#other options I considered for the works that made me struggle but it would be hard to tell:

[krys-loves-otome]

🪄💎🌈🕯

Let's Get REAL Fanfic Writer Asks

Putting part of this under a read more as I do talk about IkePri spoilers (specifically for Leon's route) as well as some potentially upsetting material.

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🪄: what is your post-writing/sharing aftercare? How do you take care of yourself or celebrate yourself when you’ve finished a fic?

Sleep or find something distracting to do to let the fic sink in. I know, I know, I preach 'don't look at the numbers, it's not a measure of your skill as a writer, they don't even matter that much in the grand scheme of things.'

And yet… I'll still refresh the page to watch the numbers go up. Yep, I'll confess to doing it. Thus why I try to make it a habit to post later in the day (sometimes before bed time) so that I can stop myself from letting those numbers get to me.

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💎: why is writing important to you?

Because, without it, I wouldn't have a voice.

Ever since I was a kid, I've always struggled with verbal communication. I don't talk a lot verbally and, though it has gotten better with time and practice, it still doesn’t feel like it's where I would want it to be. With writing, I don't have to worry about verbal ticks, volume, diction, or word stumbling. With writing, I can be as clear and concise as I want to be, plus the added bonus of creating stories.

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🌈: is there a fic that you worked *really fucking hard on* that no one would ever know? maybe a scene/theme you struggled with?

A New Resident was hard because it was the first time I'd done a birthing scene, plus trying to balance vampire lore and having 4 characters interacting at the same time without trying to leave out anyone. Sebastian was originally going to be in it too, as a sort of mouthpiece to figure out the vampire lore, but I switched him out for Arthur more for his experience as a doctor and I felt bad for just using Sebas as a prop and not giving him much to do. All he would have been doing was be a receiving piece for Comte and Leonardo, so his role got significantly cut down to make Arthur more the one asking questions.

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🕯: was there a fic that was really hard on you to write, or took you to a place you didn’t think it would take you?

Name ended up in a different place than where it started, mostly due to time constraints (it was originally a Fictober entry from last year). At first, I wanted to expand upon Leon's interactions with the original Fourth Prince (and to put my own spin on it by changing the Fourth Prince's gender), but though I did make some attempts to write what happened between the two of them, again, due to time constraints, I ended up going with Leon telling the story to his daughter, which, admittedly, is a bit more of a boring approach, but I still think it's a cute little story as is.

[rhys-writes-some-shit]

Cuddles

Alastor x Reader (QP)

You were always respectful of the fact that Alastor didn't like physical touch that he didn't initiate. You never asked why, never tried to force him otherwise, never even considered trying to touch him without his consent. This remained true for all the years you'd known him.

But sometimes it got really fucking difficult.

After a long day of work, then chores, then helping with the hotel, you were absolutely exhausted. And you still had dinner to look forward to. As much as you loved Al, his need for dinner formality really got on your nerves sometimes. At least the food was good.

Luckily, there was a little time where you could escape to your room. Closing the door behind you, you kicked off your shoes and dramatically collapsed onto the bed. As soon as your body hit the mattress, you wanted to stay there for the rest of eternity.

But that wasn't an option.

Groaning, you decided it wouldn't hurt to close your eyes for a moment. Besides, Alastor would want you to be lucid for dinner. Closing your eyes for a second would help.

"Ah, there you are." Distantly, you heard Alastor poke his head in the room. "I would like your input on supper, if you don't mind."

Unable to muster words, you made some unintelligible noises into the bed, curling up more with the blankets. Alastor's footsteps were muffled by the carpet, so you didn't know he was standing right next to you until he spoke.

"Seriously, darling, it is much too early to be sleeping. Don't be so dramatic."

A hand fell on your shoulder, probably to try and take the blankets off you. However, in your half-awake stupor, you shifted to grab the hand, pulling it towards you in an effort to pull some comfort out of it.

Your brain didn't compute what you'd just done for a full 30 seconds, until, suddenly, it hit you. Despite your exhaustion, you immediately let go of Alastor's hand and jerked to a sitting position.

"Al, I'm so, so sorry," you said, your voice sounding more tired than anything else. You ignored the way your eyes kept trying to close, Alastor's figure being nothing more than a red blur in front of you. "I didn't mean to. Give me a minute, I'll be down to help."

Alastor hummed, the contemplative hum you've learned to differentiate over time. Vaguely, you were aware that Alastor's smile softened a bit.

"I can spare ten minutes," Alastor finally said. "Move over, if you please."

You stared at him, blinking tiredly, struggling to understand what was happening.

Expectantly, Alastor motioned to the bed. "Nine minutes and thirty-five seconds."

Then it kicked in. Hastily, you moved over to the other side of them bed, giving enough room for Alastor to sit down with his back against the headboard.

Blankets curled around your shoulders, you sat there, hesitating.

"You may." Alastor answered the unspoken question. "For eight minutes and fifty-two seconds."

It was impossible to deny the smile that grew on your face as you crawled into Alastor's lap, resting your head on his chest and closing your eyes. Gently, Alastor wrapped his arms around you, holding you.

Wrapped in blankets, leaning into Alastor's solid body, the darkness behind your eyelids enveloped you. It felt like you were floating, just your and Alastor, and nothing could ever harm you ever again. As long as you kept your breathing steady, everything would be okay.

Everything would be okay.

You were right; just closing your eyes for a few minutes helped immensely. It was even better that it was spent with one of your favorite people in all of Hell. And if Alastor "accidentally" forgot to keep track of the time, extending your cuddle for an extra two minutes, you weren't going to say anything.

[starstrike]

Mithrun's desire as an SA analogue

TW discussion of SA and detailed breakdown of aesthetics evoking SA. The way I discuss this is vivid in a way that may be triggering, though there is no discussion of actual sexual assault. Just survivor's responses to it.

People relate to Mithrun and see his condition as an analogue for a few different things, like brain injury or depression. And I think all of them are there. But I also see Mithrun's story as an SA analogue, and Ryoko Kui intentionally evokes those aesthetics. I think it's a part of Mithrun's character that a lot of people miss, but I very much consider it text. This is partially inspired by @heird99's post on what makes this scene so disturbing; so check out their post, too :)

So to start off with, the demon invades Mithrun's bed, specifically. There's even a canopy around it, which specifically evokes this idea of personal intrusion; the barrier is being pulled apart without consent or warning. The way the hand reaches towards Mithrun's body from outside of the panel division makes it almost look like the goat stroking over his body. It's an especially creepy visual detail; similarly, the goat's right hand parts into the side of the panel as well. It's literally like it's tearing the page apart; but gently. So gently.

Mithrun is in bed. It is his bed that the demon is intruding on. He's in a position of intimacy. The woman behind him is a facsimile of his "beloved" that he left behind; the woman who, in reality, chose Mithrun's brother. He is in bed with his fantasy lover, who is leaning over him. While this scene isn't explicitly sexual, it is intimate. And it is being invaded. The goat lifts Mithrun gently, who is confused, but not yet struggling.

The erotics of consumption and violence in Ryoko Kui's work(remember that the word 'erotic' can have many different meanings, please) are a... notable part of some of her illustrations. I would say she blurs the lines between all forms of desire: personal, sexual, gustatory and carnal, in her illustrations in order to emphasize the pure desire she wants to work with and evoke to serve her themes. Kui deploys sexual imagery in a lot of places in Dungeon Meshi, and this is one of them.

In this case, horrifically. The goat's assault begins with drooling, licking, and nuzzling. The goat could be enjoying and "playing with" its food. But it can also be interpreted as it "preparing" Mithrun with its tongue as it begins to literally breach Mithrun's body. The goat also invades directly through his clothing; that adds another level of disturbing to me. There's nothing Mithrun can do in this moment of violation. Mithrun is fighting, but he is fighting weakly, trying to grip on and push away when he has no ability or option to. All he can do is beg the goat to stop. And it doesn't care. This all evokes sexual assault.

The sixth panel demonstrates a somewhat sexual position, with Mithrun's thighs spread around the goat's hunched over body. In the next, the goat pulls and holds apart Mithrun's thighs as he nuzzles into him. The way the clothing bunches up looks a bit as if it has been pushed up. It has pinned Mithrun down onto the bed, into Mithrun's soft furs and pillows. It takes a place made to be supernaturally warm and comfortable, and violates it. It's utterly and intimately horrifying. To me, this sequence of positions directly evokes a rape scene. I think Kui did this very explicitly. These references to sexual invasion are part of what makes this scene so disturbing; albeit, to many viewers, subconsciously. It makes my skin crawl.

This is also the moment the goat takes Mithrun's eye. Other than this, the goat seems exceptionally strong, but also... gentle. It holds Mithrun's body tightly, but moves it around slowly. It doesn't need to hurt Mithrun physically. But in that moment, it takes Mithrun's eye. Blood seeps from a wound while an orifice that should not be pierced is penetrated. This moment, the ooze of blood in one place specifically, also evokes rape. That single bit of physical gore is a very powerful bit of imagery to me.

Finally; it is Mithrun's desire that is eaten. After his assault, Mithrun can find no pleasure in things that he once did. He is fully disassociated from his emotions. This is a common response to trauma, especially in the case of SA. It's not uncommon for people to never, or take a long time to, enjoy sex in the same way again; or at all. They might feel like their rapist has robbed them of a desire and pleasure they once had. I think this makes Mithrun's lack of desire a partial analogue for the trauma of sexual assault.

Mithrun's desire for revenge was, supposedly, all that remained. Anger at his assaulter, anger at every being that was like it; though, perhaps not anger. Devotion, in a way. To his cause. I don't know. But the immediate desire to seek revenge is another response to SA. But on to Mithrun's true feelings on the matter.

This is... So incredibly tragic. Mithrun feels used up. Like his best parts have been taken away. Like he's being... tossed aside. This certainly parallels the way assault victims can feel after being left by an abuser. Or the way assault victims feel they might be "ruined" forever for other partners. These are common sentiments for survivors to carry, and need to overcome. In the text, it's almost like Mithrun feels the only being who can desire him is a demon who might "finish devouring" him. That that's his only use. It's worth noting that Mithrun trusted the demon. Mithrun's world was built by the demon, and Mithrun, in that way, was cared for by the demon. I think this reinforces Mithrun's place as a victim.

There's also something to be said about Mithrun as a victim of his own possessive romantic and sexual desire. The mirror shows him his beloved just dining with his brother, and it infuriates him. He doesn't know if the vision is real, nor if she has really chosen his brother as a romantic partner. The goat then creates a whole fantasy world where she loves him. As Mithrun's dungeon deteriorates, she is the only person that continues to exist. Mithrun continues to have control over her. And that is the strongest desire the demon is eating, isn't it? There's something interesting there, but I don't know what to say about it.

In conclusion, I think Mithrun's story is an explicit analogue for sexual assault-- though, certainly, among other things! The way the scene plays out and is composed explicitly references sexual violation and invasion of the body. His condition mirrors common trauma responses to sexual violence. And, at the end, he finally realizes he can recover.

Let's end on a happy Mithrun, after taking the first step on his journey to recovery :) You aren't vegetable scraps Mithrun. But even if you were-- every single thing in this world has value. Even vegetable scraps.

[chelscait]

not on the same wavelength. | Ona Batlle.

category: ANGST. proper.

summary: one jealous and the other uncommunicative.

word count: 1.9k. these keep getting shorter.

a/n: this was meant to be longer but couldn’t figure out how to carry it on. part 2 may be persuaded.

You were entirely envious of your girlfriend when she got the offer to go back to Barcelona, your home town.

She had been reluctant to tell you in fear of how you'd react, guilty of the fact that she chose her career over you and your feelings.

When you were dropped from the B team and moved to England, you knew you had no real chance to move back there again. The board basically told you you weren't good enough, and they do and will never need you.

You had ranted and cried all day after that meeting to Ona, and that's when she offered for you both to move as far away as possible.

The words made you freeze; you hadn't a clue about how football was run outside of Spain and didn't know a word of any other language. Her idea made you scoff.

"Don't be silly, Ona. That won't work." You shook your head as you continued your pacing, rubbing a hand down your face in the meantime.

"How do you know? It might be good to get a fresh start, you know? Just us two." Ona shrugged as she fiddled with one of your pillows she held in her lap; it was obvious she was struggling too.

"What? You're willing to actually give up on Barcelona.. for me?" Your voice cracked in acknowledgement, coming to a still before you looked at her, playing with the necklace you were wearing, which sported her initials.

"Amor, I'd give up everything for you, and I'd do anything for you. Think about it."

"I don't need to; let's do it. Fuck Barca." You agreed as you climbed onto the bed next to her, enthusiastically pulling her down to lay on top of you, squeezing her as tight as possible.

"You don't mean that." She mumbled into your chest as you practically suffocated her with your embrace, giggling softly when her baby hairs tickled your skin.

"No, I don't.. but fuck the directors."

You spent the rest of that evening researching other clubs and their logistics, as well as shouting out each club name until you found one that was at least suitable whilst still being Barcelona fans.

You had both called your agents the next day, asking for offers from any clubs and telling them you were ready and wanting to leave Levante and Barcelona behind- a fresh start.

When one of the clubs you both agreed to consider popped up in one of the options asking for both of you, you didn't hesitate and signed for the summer transfer of 2020 to Man United.

It was perfect for the both of you- a relatively newly founded club with an ambition to score high- and that was just what you both wanted and needed.

To say you were the star signings was an understatement; you both practically carried the team.

You loved it in England a lot, and you always expressed your feelings around your opinion, but Ona never agreed. Although she did love it there, it wasn't Barca, and it wasn't home.

She was homesick, incredibly, and it made you feel like shit, and it never left.

You both had made good friendships within the team and formed a tight-knit group, which benefited the club's style of play; however, you could see Ona struggle, whereas you did not have that difficulty.

She had never been that outgoing, not like you.

There were many times where Ona was left alone, having difficulties being herself without you there, and she'd watch you do what she so desperately wanted to do but couldn't.

You tried hard to get her to join in, and the halfhearted letdown always made your heart drop. That was one thing you didn't want to happen. To become distant.

For you, it felt like Ona was further away from you than she would have been if she stayed in Barcelona, and it killed you.

You didn't know what to do at all, but she promised that this is what she wanted, and it made you feel bitter that she's making you feel that you are the one that's put her in this predicament; it wasn't.

You woke up many nights in an empty bed. Ona was somewhere in the apartment by herself, and you knew she wouldn't dare leave the space of her own home, if it even was.

You traced her side of the bed through the crinkles of the cold bedsheets before you forcefully closed your eyes and turned over, a single tear slipping past your barrier.

Neither of you fell asleep that night. Ona had crept back to bed, but you could hear she was wide awake, just like you, yet she didn't move or make a noise. She let you both drown in the unknown silence and wait for further communication.

Having kept yourself away from her, you didn't realise or know her state. How much she was bottling her feelings and emotions up, her struggle however made you struggle, and the air kept inside your bottle felt like it would explode any minute.

Grabbing your phone was an indication to Ona that you were conscious that morning. She was lying on her side of the bed, looking up at the ceiling with her knees bent upward, pulling some of the cover off of you as she stared at your side profile.

You didn't say your usual good morning and give her your first kiss of the day; she didn't realise that you knew and that she was hurting you, so she moved to snuggle up to you.

You kept your focus on your phone, though, trying too hard to conceal your emotions. The aura that was irradiating from you left Ona with the battle of actually looking at you or not, and your body stiffened as she snuck her arm around your stomach, making her stick with the latter.

"Are you okay?" She mumbled into your side, playing with the hem of your t-shirt to distract her from what was to come.

"Fine. You?" You curtly answered before sniffling, taking one of your hands off your phone to trace Onas side with your finger tips.

Your slight touch welled tears in Ona's eyes; she didn't want to feel the way she did yet she did, and her feelings will most definitely hurt yours, not knowing whether she'd get another intimate moment again if it all blows up.

She tried to keep the flow at bay, but she struggled, drops falling one by one onto your t-shirt before she sniffled, grabbing your attention.

"Ona.. What is it that you're not telling me? I can see you, all of you. You're not very good at hiding it." You frowned, placing your phone back on your bedside table before playing with her hair gently, caressing her head as she stayed curled up into you.

You could feel her trying to say something; her hard breathing was delaying.

"Lo siento. Lo siento mucho amor. I'm just... it's so hard." She cried and buried herself deeper into you, yourself responding by gently pulling her up closer towards you so her face could be buried in your neck.

"I know, but we're together, right? That's all that matters as of now."

She didn't respond, continuing to sob into your neck, and your hand hesitated its journey down her back before your eyes started to tear up.

"Right?" Your voice cracked as you didn't get your answer, your mind whirling in all different directions.

"I want to go home. I want to go home, Y/N. I can't take this anymore." She sobbed as she sat up, messily brushing all of her wet strands of hair away from her face.

Your heart dropped at her words, the guilt seizing you. You didn't know what to say, and you removed your gaze from hers before fiddling with your hands.

"This is football, Ona. You can't pick and choose; it's brutal, I know, but sometimes.. you have to make sacrifices to get what you want, even if it's hard. Barcelona is not on the agenda right now, and we're not on theirs; they may never need us. You have to understand that, Ona." You tried to convince.

You knew what you were saying were lies, as there were rumours that Barcelona wanted the both of you back for a while now, but you wanted Ona to stay with you, and you didn't want to go or let go.

"It's not just the club and football, though; I miss my life, my family, and my physical home. I miss home." She suffocated in her own tears, looking up at the ceiling to try and lessen the current trailing down her cheeks.

"What about me? Am I not your home? Your life? Like you have told me multiple times before."

"You are, but just a part of it, and I'm sorry.. but it's not enough. I am not satisfied with Manchester; I'm not satisfied like this."

"And you’re not satisfied with our relationship, got it." You whispered with a curt nod, pushing yourself to sit up a bit more and chuck the covers off of you.

"Y/N.."

"You know what, Ona? This was your idea, your fucking idea to do this, and your pinning all of your... whatever! on me." You began shouting after you got up from your bed, shaking your head at Ona's selfishness.

"I'm not.."

"You may not think it, but you are. I have felt like absolute dog shit the whole time we've been here. Especially these last few weeks, and I don't know what to say to you, Ona. I don't know. You're killing me."

"I didn't realise; I'm sorry." She mumbled as she shuffled closer to the edge of the bed, in reach of you. You allowed her to grab your hand before she rested her head on your stomach. Though you made no effort to comfort.

"Ona, I just don't know what to do. I love you. I love you so much, but I don't think I'm good enough to return, mentally and physically." You laid a dead hand on the top of her head as she wrapped her arms around you, awkwardly pulling you in tighter.

"It's okay, but you have to know.. I want to go home, and I want to do this in a way where we'll be okay.."

"Ona, it's not you thinking of leaving that is upsetting me.. I'm not stopping you. It's the fact that you have continuously lied to me this whole time about how you felt. It has almost felt like you haven't trusted me, and you don't trust me. It has really hurt me how I have known what you were feeling without you actually telling me."

"I feel like I'm losing you.." She whispered loud enough for you to hear, a fresh batch of tears finding home to soak in your t-shirt.

"You're not losing me; you'll never lose me. I'm losing you." Your voice cracked before you sniffled, hands trailing to Onas cheeks to pull her face away from you. You looked down at her as she sheepishly looked up while leaning into your touch before you bent down to place your forehead against hers.

"No.."

"I think the best thing we need right now is space. I'm going to go stay with Lucia for a bit; you can stay here." You pulled away, your hands reluctantly falling from her face.

"No, Y/N.. please, this will make it worse." Ona grew panicked as she let out a sob, her hands flailing to find your own again and bring them back to her.

"Please Ona. Just let me go. I'm sorry."

[swimmingismywholelife]

The Only Reason

Summary: Even though your relationship with Christian has been rocky, neither of you are willing to go down without a fight.

Warnings: 18+, arguments, panic attack, a lot of crying, angst but a fluffy (if you can call it that I guess) ending, SMUT, some dirty talk, soft dom!Chris, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it and make sure you're not allergic to your wrap!), fingering, oral (f receiving), creampie, the smut is sweet tbh

WC: 4.4K

A/N: It's my birthday but this is a present for all of you! Inspired by "The Only Reason" by 5 Seconds of Summer. My first attempt at smut which lowkey I wasn't supposed to add but it fit anyway. This is a step considering I'm openly horny on main now so you might see more in the future 👀. I literally changed it 1274045923845 times but I'm happy with the way it turned out so I hope you guys think it's good-

"Even though my dizzy head is numb

I swear my heart is never giving up.

You're the reason

The only reason."

~~~

The front door slammed shut, indicating Christian was finally home from training. You sighed, praying this would blow over quickly so you could enjoy your dinner.

The past few weeks had been incredibly frustrating for the both of you. Chelsea had been on a losing streak with hardly any goals and Christian hardly got any play time. He was in the middle of trying to negotiate some sort of deal with the club, either to transfer or give him more playing time. Although it wasn't the option he preferred, it was likely he'd be transferred somewhere else soon, and with that contract talks had to be opened. He loved Chelsea, but the club didn't seem to return that love to him. It heavily weighed on Christian's mind, slowly draining him of the love he had for the sport, sending him deeper into a depressive and angry spiral causing him lash out on everyone.

On top of that, your own stresses had started building up. Your workload had tripled due to you being short staffed. Every time you thought you were done with a project, a modification was added or a brand new one was added to your list of things to do. You were working overtime almost every single day and you were close to ripping your hair out.

Between your work and Christian's training, you'd hardly seen each other over the past few months. He'd been extra short with you recently, something that was pretty unusual for Christian. You were typically the one who struggled to keep your anger in check, but these days it seemed your boyfriend could give you a run for your money. Most days you spent sleeping away from each other as opposed to being cuddled in each others arms. During the very brief moments you did end up spending time together, more often than not it resulted in some kind of an argument.

You both agreed earlier that morning that you were in desperate need of some kind of date night to ease your minds and to spend time together. You decided that a simple dinner would be sufficient enough. It was something small, you wouldn't have to go anywhere, and it was always one of your favorite date ideas since you'd gotten together. You were excited to finally spend time with your boyfriend even if it wasn't anything fancy.

But you knew by the way Christian slammed the door that he thought otherwise. He angrily threw his training bag to the side, grumbling to himself.

"Chris, it doesn't do you any good to pace angrily around the house," you sighed. "At least come eat and try to take your mind off things."

It seemed you only made him angrier.

"God, what don't you get?!" he snapped back. "Fucking food isn't gonna help the situation. Our team is shit, this situation is shit, everything is shit!"

You stood up from your place at the table, upset with Christian for yelling at you when you just wanted to help.

"I understand you're frustrated with everything, but don't take it out on me!" you yelled back. "All I'm trying to do is help you. I'm not a fucking emotional punching bag for you to take your shit out on Christian!"

He slammed his hands on the table, the sound echoing throughout the entire house. It startled you. Christian wasn't one to express his anger through violence like this.

"Why do I even keep fucking trying with you?! All you do is nag and nag and nag! You keep 'trying to help' but you're not!" he screamed back. "All you do is get in my face of 'oh Christian do this,' 'oh Christian try and do that.' Get out of my face for once I'm fucking tired of it!"

You were stunned. Your heart with each word Christian spat out at you. You loved him, but you knew you didn't deserve what he'd been giving you for the past few months.

"Fine. I'll 'get out of your face,'" you said calmly.

"Actually you know what? I'll do it myself. Being in here suffocates me," he said venomously, grabbing his keys and storming out the house.

You moved into the bedroom the two of you shared. What once felt like home to you felt like a prison suffocating you the longer you stood in it. And you just fell to your knees and cried.

You couldn't pinpoint the exact moment where it all started going wrong. You and Christian weren't perfect of course, but you just worked. You understood each other like no one else. You'd experienced things together that you'd never had with other people. You hadn't grown up with Christian in the past, but that didn't matter. He was your present and was going to be your future.

But that was then. Somewhere along the way, things changed. Nowadays he barely made time for you. He was gone before you woke up and you were asleep before he came home. Date nights were nonexistent, special occasions stopped being special. You couldn't keep begging for his attention, wondering if this time would be enough to keep it.

You didn't want things to end. That was absolutely the last thing you wanted to do. You loved Christian with everything you had. But you were the only one trying and you both knew that. Somewhere Christian just fell out of love with you while you were desperately trying to grasp onto something. But it was no use. He was gone a long time ago.

Christian was in the middle of figuring out the trajectory of his career, unsure if he was to wait out his contract with Chelsea for the next season or leave for a club that truly appreciated him. And pretty soon, he would be flying back to the States for international break. The last thing you wanted to do was add onto the stress Christian was feeling.

But how long would you have to keep sacrificing your own happiness for the sake of his?

Christian didn't come home that night, nor the night after that, nor the night after that. Not that you really expected him to. He hadn't been home all that much anyway, and even while he was there physically, he wasn't there. So sleeping alone in your bed wasn't that much of a foreign feeling anymore anyway. And the longer he was away, the foggier your mind became. The answer was right there in front of you. This was Christian blatantly telling you how he felt about your relationship. Right?

It wasn't until about a week later that Christian had contacted you, letting you know he'd be coming back that night. You mentally prepared yourself for the worst.

The door opened, causing you to snap out of your thoughts. You could hear the clattering of the keys being placed on the table and footsteps heading up the stairs.

The lights flickered in your bedroom. Your eyes met his, startling him.

"Oh hey, I didn't realize you'd still be up," Christian said surprised, removing his jacket and placing it on a chair.

"We need to talk Christian," you said, trying to prevent your voice from wavering.

"We'll talk in the morning, Y/N. It's kind of late and I don't want another fight right now," he responded.

"I'm serious Christian," you answered, feeling your heart breaking already. "And I don't think this can wait until morning."

"Why do you keep using my full name?" Christian asked uncomfortably. "You only use it like this when something's really wrong."

You didn't answer. Instead you got up from your place on the bed and hugged his waist, completely breaking down. You felt like you couldn't breathe through all the tears and the pain you felt. Your body gave out as you fell to the ground, taking Christian with you.

For a second time that night, Christian was surprised. He immediately wrapped his arms around you, kissing your head.

"Hey, hey, baby what's wrong? What's going on?" he asked.

You couldn't get the words out. You only cried harder as he led you back to your bed. You took in this moment with him, not knowing if this was the last night you would sharing with him. You tried to memorize the scent of his favorite cologne, how perfectly you fit into his arms, the way his kisses felt. You wanted to remember how safe you felt with Christian and how your heart longed for him to come home to you.

"It's okay, baby, it's okay. I'm right here. I won't ever let anything hurt you," he said, trying to soothe you.

Little did he realize he was the reason you were hurting so much.

You held Christian close to you as the weight of your decision started to kick in. You wanted nothing more in this world than to be with Christian. He meant everything to you. You wanted it all with him. You wanted to marry him one day, carry his children, grow old together. You wanted to wear his last name to every game he played, to support him as he reached all his dreams. You could have nothing but Christian and you would be perfectly content.

Your mother had told you growing up that every scenario that came your way had three answers: yes, no, or wait. And you so desperately wanted to believe Christian was your sign that being patient was worth it. That waiting would be worth it. That one day it would bring you the happiness you craved and you deserved.

But how long were you supposed to wait? How long had you waited for him to fulfill his promises? How long had you been patient with him? How long had you stayed loyal every time he'd taken his anger out on you? How long had you been contemplating if you were worth saving? Was this just patience or were you holding onto something that you should've let go of a long time ago?

"I'm sorry for what I said earlier baby," he said, stroking your hair trying to soothe you. "I didn't mean it. I love you so much. I'm sorry. I'm so, so, so sorry."

You couldn't get words out. You needed just one last night to call yourself his before you could make your final decision.

"Just hold me please," you sobbed out, gripping his body as hard as you could.

"I'll do whatever you need baby. I'm right here. I'll always be right here."

Christian was scared. He didn't fully understand what was going on or why you were crying the way you were. But he knew something was off and something was wrong. So he just held you as you let out all the emotions you'd been feeling for weeks.

Christian knew it was more serious than he initially thought when you kept crying for over an hour. He didn't realize how absent he'd been from your life until then. How long had you been feeling such emotional turmoil? What else had he missed? Why were you crying this hard for so long?

Truthfully, he was afraid to find out. As shitty of a boyfriend he'd been over the past few weeks, Christian loved you with every fiber of his being. The last thing he wanted to do was lose you, the relationship you'd built up for years together.

But he knew the likelihood of a break up was probably looming in your mind. Was this it? Was this a sign that something was coming to an end? He didn't want to know. He knew you two needed to talk, especially after the way he walked out. But he was afraid of the outcome.

So he just held you close to him, praying this wouldn't be the last time he got to feel you like this. He took in your scent, trying to memorize the way you felt in his arms. He left kisses on your forehead, shoulders, and cheeks, wiping the tears away as he went.

You eventually calmed down, your grip on Christian never loosening.

"Christian I-" you gasped out.

"It's okay baby, take your time. You don't have to rush anything you don't want to," he whispered gently, kissing your forehead again.

"I'm sorry," you said quietly.

"Baby, you have nothing to be sorry about," he said. "If anything, I should be the one who's sorry. I've been such a horrible boyfriend. I shouldn't have said what I said, I shouldn't have done what I did."

"Christian…" you trailed.

"Shh, it's okay baby. It's okay. We don't have to talk about this right now. We can talk about this in the morning. Just let me hold you right now. Everything is going to be okay," he said softly.

"Chris I'm scared," you whispered.

His heart broke a little knowing you were scared of what morning would entail.

"I'm scared too baby. I'm so fucking scared," he admitted. "But we'll talk about this when it comes okay? Just be here with me now. Nothing else is going to hurt you tonight I promise."

The two of you were laying on your side facing each other. Your head was tucked into his chest, tears flowing every so often. Christian never once let go, not even when his arms started going numb. You were afraid to close your eyes, scared that Christian would be gone the moment you opened them.

Your body stopped shaking and you eventually stopped crying during the early morning hours. You were quiet. And if he didn't know you well, Christian would've believed you were asleep.

But he knew better. He knew that you couldn't sleep because neither could he. Just two souls barely hanging on by a thread not knowing how to fix it.

Did you want to fix things? Or were things so far gone there was nothing you could do anymore? Was this still worth it? Was a future still possible? Would love be enough to save this?

You were set on breaking up with him the night before. You were so sure that's what you wanted. But under the moonlight that peaked through your window, you didn't know what to do anymore. Your head was dizzy with thoughts and you couldn't think clearly anymore.

"Christian?" you called out quietly.

"Yeah?"

"What are we doing?"

His body tensed at the question. He was quiet at first, not wanting to say the wrong thing. He knew this was it. His answer would either make or break your relationship.

"I don't know baby," he answered honestly.

You nestled your head further into his chest.

"I don't want to keep doing this. Guessing if you still want us. You're either in or you're out Chris. I don't want to keep playing your games."

Christian had to stop himself from letting out a sob and took a deep breath. You didn't trust him or his words anymore. And realizing that absolutely broke his heart.

"Can you look at me Y/N?" he asked.

You hesitated for a moment before lifting your head. Christian cupped your cheek with his hand, gently rubbing his thumb back and forth. He rested his forehead on yours.

"You don't have to say anything okay? Just hear me out. I know I've been a shitty boyfriend. I know I haven't been there for you. I haven't treated you well. I've lashed out on you when you've done nothing but love and support me. Through all the shit the world's thrown at me this season, you've been everything I need and more. And I haven't appreciated that. And you deserve so much more than what I've been giving you."

Christian stopped for a moment, taking the opportunity to look at you. How could he have hurt you so bad? How could he let everything slip between his fingers?

"I'm sorry for everything I've put you through. I'm sorry that you've lost trust in my words. You always tell me that my words, my actions, and my intentions need to line up and they haven't been and I'm so sorry for that. I'm sorry I've broken so many promises. And most of all, I'm sorry that you're hurting and I'm the cause of it when I told you I'd never let anyone hurt you. I failed to see what was right in front of me and I've taken you for granted and I'm so sorry."

A tear fell from your eye, quickly caught by Christian's thumb.

"I don't deserve you. I really don't. You know that and I know that better than anyone."

He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead further into yours.

"But please don't give up on us. I know you can't trust my words right now, but I swear to you I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. I can't let you go. Not now and not ever. No more games. No more confusion. No more trying to guess where my head and where my heart stand with you. Right here, right now, forever and always I'm with you. My head is with you. My heart is with you. All of me is with you. And I promise I'll prove it every day for as long as I live. So please. Give me one last chance to be with you."

You didn't know what to say. You didn't know what you wanted anymore. How could you trust him? He was saying all the right words, but did he really mean it? Were they more empty words?

Yes, no, or wait. Just like your mother said. But you'd waited so long that it seemed almost futile. Had you been wasting your time? Or was this what you were meant to do?

And though your head was fighting with itself, dizzy and numb from the constant questions running around, you knew where your heart lied. So you did the only thing you felt could portray how you felt enough to give him and answer.

You lifted your chin and kissed him deeply, wrapping your arms around his neck. His grip on your cheek was firm, bringing you as close as you could physically get. The tears wouldn't stop flowing from either of your faces, but none of that mattered. What mattered was here and now.

Yes, no, or wait. And you finally got your answer.

He kissed you like you were the oxygen he needed to breathe. And truthfully, he needed you to breathe.

You pulled back ever so slightly, just enough for you to be able to talk.

"You get one chance at this Chris. Only one," you said breathlessly. "Don't waste it."

His lips were back on yours in response, his teeth tugging on your bottom lip. You let out a soft moan as he pushed you onto your back, settling himself in between your legs. He pulled back keeping his forehead to yours breathing heavily.

"I love you Y/N. I love you so much you don't even know," he said. "I won't waste it. Not ever again."

You grabbed his shirt and pulled him back to your lips, needing to feel him closer. Your hands traveled underneath his shirt, nails scratching his skin lightly as they roamed his chest.

Christian pulled back from you for a moment to rip his shirt off before attaching his lips back to yours, giving you more access to him. You couldn't keep your hands off each other, your legs wrapping around his hips to bring you even closer to him.

"Chris," you whispered. "I need-"

"I know baby," he answered. "I know. Let me take care of you."

You whimpered beneath him as his lips moved to your neck, leaving a trail of marks as he gave you sloppy but gentle kisses. He bit down on the spot just below your ear, causing you to let out a loud moan.

"Does that feel good baby?" he whispered into your ear, sending shivers down your spine that resonated throughout your whole body.

"God yes Chris it feels so good please," you begged beneath him.

His hands grabbed the bottom of your shirt, bringing it over your head and pressing his chest against yours as he kissed your lips gently.

"So fucking beautiful. And all mine," he said to himself.

His lips returned to your neck, this time the trail leading to your breasts. You gasped as you felt his tongue along your nipple, pressing yourself further into his mouth. You only squirmed more as he moved to your other side, your fingers tangled in his hair tugging lightly. He kissed down your torso until he reached the band of your shorts.

"May I?" he asked softly.

You nodded your head frantically.

"Words baby." His fingers hooked into them, toying with the fabric. "You know the drill. I can't give you what you want unless you tell me."

"Yes please," you whined, wiggling your hips in the hopes of getting the clothing off you faster.

"Please what Y/N?"

"Please take them off Chris please. I wanna feel you on my pussy please, please, please."

"Good girl."

He slowly slid your shorts down, taking a little too long for your liking. He kissed down your stomach, loving how you were falling apart beneath him.

His fingers rubbed over the dark spot of your underwear. You gasped, hands grabbing the sheets tightly. He moved his fingers almost in a trance watching as the patch grew darker and larger.

"You're so fucking wet baby. You like it when I touch you like this?" he chuckled.

"Yes I love feeling you play with my pussy!" you moaned, grinding your hips against his fingers.

Christian pulled your underwear to the side. You shivered in anticipation as you felt Christian's breath on your lips.

"Can I taste you?" he asked, running his fingers through your folds.

"God yes! Please let me feel your tongue," you begged, lacing your fingers through his hair to bring him closer.

"As you wish princess."

Your back arched the moment his tongue made contact with you. He licked from the bottom all the way to your clit, lightly sucking on it. You moaned tugging at his curls. The louder you moaned, the faster he went alternating between licking and sucking. Your thighs closed around his head as you pushed him closer to you.

You were so lost in the pleasure that you were surprised when Christian inserted two of his fingers into your folds. You moaned even louder at the intrusion.

"God Christian more please. Please I need more!"

You were begging, but you didn't even know what you were begging for. You just wanted him to keep going.

Christian was enjoying every second of this. He loved watching you fall apart beneath him.

"You need more baby? So greedy. My tongue sucking on your clit and my fingers deep inside your pussy. What else could you want?" he teased, picking up the speed as he fucked you with his fingers.

You couldn't form any proper sentences anymore. Incoherent noises left your mouth as your body started shaking uncontrollably, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

"Damn baby you're shaking. Are you close already? I've barely even done anything," he mused, inserting a third finger and fucking you even faster.

"God I'm so fucking close please let me cum! Please please please I need to cum please Christian please!" you all but screamed.

"Shh, it's okay. You can cum baby. Let it go for me," he said softly.

Your vision went blank as you came, your hands grasping at Christian's curls to anchor you to reality. Your legs shook violently as Christian continued coaxing your climax out of you, only slowing down as your body started spasming with overstimulation.

"Christian I need more," you whined, gasping for air.

"I know baby, I know. I'll take good care of you," he said. "I'm right here okay?"

Christian kissed your lips gently, making your heart flutter. He softly caressed your face admiring how you glowed under the moonlight. You melted under his gaze holding him close to you.

"You okay?" he asked.

You nodded, giving him the go ahead. He moved back just enough to remove his bottoms before taking his place between your legs again. He placed both of his hands gently on your cheeks, resting his forehead against yours. He looked deep into your eyes as his thrusted his hips into yours. You gasped into his mouth as he picked up the speed, grinding slow but deep.

"I love you Christian," you moaned breathlessly.

"I love you Y/N," he responded. "I love you so much. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me and I'm sorry I made you feel otherwise. And I'll spend the rest of my life proving my worth to you."

The room was quiet except for the skin slapping against each other and the soft gasps you let out. You grabbed Christian's neck, bringing him as close as you possibly could. You needed him in every sense of the word, wanting to feel every inch of his skin on yours. He was yours and you were his. Your bodies intertwined in the same way your souls had all those years ago and that was all you really needed.

"Chris I need-" you were cut off with a particularly deep thrust making you moan, tugging at the curls on the nape of Christian's neck.

"I'm close too baby. Cum with me. Become one with me Y/N."

You had one of the strongest orgasms you'd ever had in your life. Your chest pressed into his as his cum filled you up, clenching your pussy around him. You held each other tightly, afraid to lose one another as space came between you.

The both of you laid there for a moment, basking in the afterglow of being so intimate. You gasped into each others mouths as your heartrates began to slow down ever so slightly.

"God you're so beautiful. The most beautiful woman I've ever seen," Christian said in awe of you.

You flushed beneath him becoming shy.

"Babe you just came all over my dick. You really shouldn't be that shy," he said cheekily. You scoffed and hit his chest slightly.

"You're actually ridiculous," you said lovingly, pressing your lips to his for a quick kiss.

He pecked you once more before pulling out of you. He got up, grabbing a towel and gently cleaning your body. He left kisses as he went, worshipping your body. Once he was done, he laid on his back bringing your head onto his chest. He kissed the top of your head as you tucked yourself beneath his arm.

"Are we okay Christian?" you asked meekly.

"Yeah baby. We're okay. We're gonna be okay."

Taglist: @pulisicsgirl @chelseagirl98 @thoseboysinblue @neverinadream @lizzypotter14 @masonsrem @masonspulisic @notsoattractivearenti @lovelynikol16 @bracedes @mortirolo @nyctophilic0vitnir

[callofdudes]

Keegan P. Russ x Autistic Reader

A/n: Once again, I myself am not autistic, I'm just here to try and spread love to you guys through characters. If any of this is wrong you can feel free to let me know ♥️

Keegan had a small circle. He didn't people a whole lot but mentoring the new kids that somehow ended up under his wing kind of became his thing. Like the unethical uncle whose closer in age to you than your parents kinda thing.

So when he heard you'd be joining the team he knew you were damn good. They hadn't had someone join for a while considering how tight knit that were, under the radar and skilled.

So whoever you were, you were worthy and Keegan could recognize that. Even if he'd test for himself your limits on field.

When you first met him he wasn't exactly what you'd expected. The others looked somewhat presentable and there was... Keegan. 😂😅

You were nervous to impress them and didn't want to fail. You were given the opportunity to work with the ghost team. You didn't want to screw it up.

When you met him, those first few days were extremely anxiety inducing. Shaking his hand and struggling to keep your eyes in one place.

"Eyes on me soldier."

"Sorry sir." You whispered, looking up at him briefly before your eyes darted away somewhere else again.

"Have trouble with eye contact soldier?"

"Yes sir... Sorry."

"That's fine. Just address me respectfully. We'll work on the eye contact."

You nod a little, following after him while Logan and Hesh follow after.

It didn't take too long. He eventually got his hands on your proper file instead of word of mouth and got to reading. This is where he discovered you are autistic.

Ah, so that explained eye contact. He doesn't know a lot about autism. He knows it makes a person neurologically different from others. But that was about it.

He just shrugged and went along with it, figuring he could learn from watching you. Since staying in the background and watching was his thing.

He watched you attempt to socialize with the others. They were all relatively quiet, all except for Hesh and Logan, who were riding the excitement of a new member.

They were a family and happy to welcome you and your skills in.

Over time Keegan got to noticing little things about you. How you flinched and at louder noises and your nose scrunched whenever you accidentally touched something you didn't like.

Especially the masks that they had for you guys to optionally wear. They were scratchy and tight and just didn't feel the best. Immediately turning down the offer to wear it.

Keegan noticed how you are your food, what you would refuse and what you'd eat. Your little organized piles, as well as with your new room.

Huh, autism definitely had its perks. That what he thought at first. One mission where you were forced to wear the mask for clearance purposes changed that.

You were stuck in this tight, itchy thing. It made your face too hot and pulled at your cheeks. You kept tugging it and trying to move it, scrunching up when it rubbed on your skin.

"Keep up kid." Keegan called behind him as he walked further along the old road. Your feet picked back up, silently following while trying to just get over the feeling of the mask.

Everything was going good, the air was quiet, the enemies were still. The ghost team doing what it did best.

Until the stress, the mask, the smell of the air through the fabric, and something inside you all too familiar snapped.

You dropped your gun at your hilt, immediately clawing at the thing desperately. Keegan whipped around, gun aimed until he saw it.

"Kid- kid, easy." He went over, attempting to pull your hands away but tears filled your eyes. "Get it off- get it off! Get it off!" You choked, voice cutting into nothing.

"You need to keep it on, it's fine."

You sobbed, finally pulling the edge, trying to rip it off your face, so Keegan stepped in. Pushing your back against the wall, his knee pressing into you as he gently pulled the mask off, letting you breathe.

Your back against the wall was grounding, breathing in air, rubbing your sweaty face of the afterfeeling. "Easy... Keep your head in the game, kid."

After that Keegan decided to do some more digging. He hadn't seen you looked so panicked.

That's where he learned about your sensitivity to different things and how textured, tastes, smells, touch, all can be affected.

And he felt that protectiveness. He didn't have to, but he went to the main office and got a different mask approved. It was a smoother, almost silk texture. Not too heavy, and it was loose. Next mission he gave it to you.

"Kid, try this." He tossed you the mask and in a last second you caught it, looking at it. "For me?" You looked back up at him.

"Keep your helmet on straight, you should be fine." He grabs his gun, nodding. "Wanna help you do your job right, right?"

You smiled softly. "Right."

From that point on Keegan pretty much adopted you. You were a good fighter, sometimes getting overwhelmed. When you were alone down in the compound with the others in the building, he was there.

"Keegan..."

"Talk to me kid, what do ya need?"

"I don't know what to do..." Your breathing was picking up as you looked at all the corners and empty fields.

Keegan nodded, grabbing the monitor. "Alright, couple feet in front of you, then you'll make a left. Should be two guys at the end of that wall. Take them down."

Keegan walked you through. It became habit to help you through when you needed it or felt unsure and overwhelmed.

And if anyone attempted to bully you or point it out? I pray for their soul, because God is the last thing they'll be talking to after that.

Keegan is pretty protective of you, and overtime You've grown closer to you. You opened up about your life with autism over drinks one evening. Telling him about the good and the bad.

Keegan wasn't the hugest talker, so he listened. Eyes on you, he tipped his drink to his mouth as you talked about autism. And then slowly throughout telling some of your life story you dragged onto topics of your favorite game characters or action figures. Iconic music people you liked or movies. And Keegan listened with interest.

You two talked until the bar closed and Keegan covered the tab, escorting you out the door.

"Keegan." You touched his arm.

He turned before getting in the car, looking at you. "Yeah?"

"Thanks. People usually say I'm annoying... You listened though."

Keegan hummed. "Always listening kid. Always."

You chuckled and rolled your eyes playfully. You got in the car and the two of you headed home.

After a nightmare of the battlefield, you would usually just hide. Your weight blanket under your bed usually worked. Your other squadmates hated you and you first started having nightmares around them.

But this time, breathing heavy, tears in your eyes, you found yourself at Keegan's door.

Keegan grumbled as he unlocked it and looked at you. "Kid... Y'ok?"

You shake your head, trembling. "Can I... Stay with you?"

There was a tense moment. Keegan didn't let many people into his room, or his bed, for any reason on that matter. But something tugged on that heart of his buried somewhere in there.

"Come in. Get comfy as you need."

You nodded gratefully and came over. Keegan let you lay down, smelling the familiar smell of Keegan on the sheets. Seeing his room for the first time. If was dark, there weren't any vibrant colors or patterns so it wasn't as much to look at.

But sometimes that's nice.

Keegan sat in the chair by his desk, looking at you, watching you get all situated in bed.

"Keegan can..." You sniffed. "Can you lay on top of me?"

He frowned. "What for?"

"Just... Please, it's complicated."

Keegan could see in your eyes you weren't pulling his leg so he did. Crawling into bed, making sure you were comfy on your back before slotting himself on top of you, arms wrapped around you a little, head settling.

"This ok?"

You wrapped your arms around him tightly. "Yes, thank you." You whispered. And within 20 minutes you were back asleep. With a warm, known body against yours.

Keegan has got your back. It's something you've slowly come to realize over time. Whether it be helping with food, environment, being a giant human weight blanket, talking you through missions, letting you ramble about anything you'd like.

You found yourself smiling with this family. Getting a chuckle out of him as you rambled on and on about things you wanted so desperately to talk about. Stuff someone was willing to hear.

This was a place that made you feel safe, a person you felt safe with.

Keegan could probably do some more research, and he promises he will find the time for it, but for now, he will learn alongside you as you grow more and more into an even better soldier.

[padfootagain]

Pet Names

Hi! Here is a request that was sent my way by @thenerdysimp : ‘And then I had a new idea just now where reader does a “TikTok prank” on Ben where she calls him by his full name. Man’s terrified and she starts to feel bad for scaring him😂’

So, here we go for this adorable idea! I hope you enjoy what I’ve written for it! Also you said ‘full name’, so I’m not just dropping the cute nickname I’m going ‘full name’… the poor man…

I hope you like this cute oneshot! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Ben Barnes x reader

Warnings: Some tooth-rotting fluff! Also… the ending turned a sexy even if there is no nsfw stuff, but the flirt is getting out of hand… (don’t know what happened to me with that last sentence but…)

Summary: You find this popular prank on Tik Tok and decide to try it on Ben. But when you call him by his full name instead of your usual adorable pet names, he panics more than anticipating, and it kind of backfires.

Word Count: 1859

Ben Barnes Masterlist – Main Masterlist

You laugh at the video on your phone, and a sting of guilt shoots through your body because… well… it is more than time to get up from the warmth of your bed and actually be productive, but then again…

You decide that one more short video will not kill you, so you stay on Tik Tok for one more.

It’s the same trend again that’s been going on for a few days on the app now: calling your significant other by their name in order to see their reaction. And you find it hilarious. Some are cute about it, some are straight up moody or even angry.

You wonder how Ben would react to that, though…

You don’t reckon that he would get angry, he is too calm and too nice for that. Confused? Yes, definitely, he would get confused, maybe even a little worried. Actually, you’re so curious about it that you’re considering pulling this prank on him.

He’s not the kind to be petty, but he will get back at you if you prank him, so you need to weigh your options. The last time you made fun of him for being taller than you, he hid your favourite snacks on the top shelf for three days…

Still, you reckon this one is rather innocent, so you decide to try it on Ben.

He’ll soon be home, he went for an early run this morning before getting some work done as he is getting ready to leave to shoot a new project in a couple of days. So, you finally get up, take a shower before he arrives and decide to wait for him on the couch, grabbing the book you’re currently reading.

You hear the key turning in the lock first, then you hear fumbling with the doorknob, and finally you hear him whistling as he steps inside your home. You hear his keys being dropped in their bowl by the door, the sound of his shoes dropping to the floor, and finally his footsteps crossing the hall. He grins as he sees you on the sofa, looking comfy and rather adorable in one of his jumpers, some sweatpants and buried under a heavy blanket.

“Hi, darling!” he chimes, hurrying towards you and you can’t refrain the smile that forms on your lips in response to his happy voice.

“Hi!”

He bends to drop a sweet kiss on your lips, but you wriggle your nose when he pulls away.

“You’re all sweaty!” you complain, making him laugh.

“True. It was a good run, though. I’m going to take a shower, I reckon I need one.”

He moves towards the bathroom, but spins around after a couple of steps, and strides towards the kitchen instead.

“Water first,” he explains at the sight of your amused frown, before disappearing in the kitchen. “Do you want some, darling?”

“Oh, yes! Thanks, Ben.”

You wait for his reaction, but you hear nothing. From your peripheral vision, you catch him peering at you from the kitchen. He frowns hard, completely puzzled, and you struggle not to let out a bright laugh.

But he shakes his head, and resumes his activity in the kitchen. A minute later, he’s bringing you your glass of fresh water.

He’s still not reacting to your prank though, so you decide to push it a little further.

“Thank you, Benjamin.”

You see him visibly tensing as you take your drink, raising his eyebrows in disbelief.

“Wow… I must really be in trouble,” he says, crossing his arms and tilting his head a little to the side. “Why on earth would you call me that?”

His voice is perfectly calm though, soothing even. You struggle not to laugh at the confused expression that paints itself over his features.

“Nothing,” you answer, but he’s not buying it.

“If it’s about the last jaffa cake that disappeared last night, it wasn’t me.”

“No?”

“It was my doppelganger.”

 “Really?”

“Hmm… Jaffa cakes are his favourite, it’s not his fault, really…”

“I see…”

But you keep on staring sternly at him, and Ben grows more and more confused and anxious at the sight.

He frowns, humour gone from his voice when he speaks once more.

“Seriously, though… what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“What do you mean ‘nothing’? You’ve never called me that before, what’s going on?”

“I’ve just used your name!”

But his frown deepens, he blinks several times, completely at a loss.

“Why would you call me that? No one calls me Benjamin. Except for my parents when they want to ground me.”

“Aren’t you a little old to be grounded?”

“You can never know with them.”

You chuckle, but Ben grows worried now, and your amusement starts feeling a lot like guilt.

He sits down next to you and takes your hand in his, enlacing your fingers together.

“What’s wrong? What did I do? I’ve done something terrible, haven’t I?”

“No, of course not…”

“I have… are you… how bad is it?”

“Nothing is wrong, I’m sorry…”

“You’ve never called me ‘Benjamin’. Ever. And you haven’t called me ‘Ben’ in like… two years!”

But you take his face in your hands to shush him, a soothing smile on your lips now.

“There’s nothing wrong! It was just a joke.”

He deeply frowns again.

“What?”

“I just saw this trend on Tik Tok, where you’re supposed to call your significant other by their name to see their reaction, and I just wanted to try it on you. It’s just a joke!”

You’re giggling now, but Ben is still frowning.

“It’s a joke?” he asks again, just to make sure. “So… you’re not mad at me, right?”

“No, of course not, honey!”

You see him relaxing next to you, shaking his head at you now, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Benjamin… really?” he asks, teasing back in his voice.

“You didn’t say anything at ‘Ben’! I had to up my game!”

“I thought you wanted to murder me or something!”

“Murder you?” you asked, laughing brightly now.

“I would actually expect you to murder me before calling me Benjamin.”

You both laugh at that.

“Don’t ever call me that again, by the way.”

“I could do worse.”

“Could you?” he snorts.

You stare at him, dead serious.

“Benjamin. Thomas. Barnes.”

You remain still for a moment, before both of you would explode with laughter.

“You’re right, it’s worse!” Ben complains, still laughing, as he stands from the couch to finally head for a shower. “Careful, or I’ll hug you while still covered with sweat.”

“Gross.”

He takes off his black t-shirt and throws it at you, making you laugh harder as you dive to avoid the dirty piece of clothing.

“You’re disgusting!”

But you hear him laughing, as he turns to look at you pushing his t-shirt away, leaning against the doorframe. And it is quite infuriating how handsome he looks like this, dishevelled, and sweaty, and you can’t help but stare at his exposed chest…

“I reckon that was a very petty vengeance,” you narrow your eyes at him as he starts chuckling again, a smug smile on his lips.

“I think you like the view, though.”

“Not at all…”

“Really?”

��Maybe a little bit.”

“That’s what I thought.”

He buries his hands in the pockets of his dark pair of shorts.

“Now, give me one of my usual pet names, please, my darling,” he goes on, his voice more tender now.

“I don’t know which one you’re talking about…”

“Any will do.”

“What do I usually call you again?”

“Hmm… let’s see…” he plays along, looking up as if searching through his memories. “There’s the classic ‘baby’, then there’s ‘love’… I’m very fond of ‘darling’, not gonna lie. ‘Honey’, ‘babe’, ‘honey bun’, ‘handsome’, and of course there’s ‘sweetheart’, and ‘sweetie’…”

“You’ve got many!”

“Hmm… you’re more creative than I am with these, I have to say. I usually keep with ‘darling’, or ‘love’, or ‘sweetheart’… right?”

“You call me ‘beautiful’ a lot, too.”

“That’s because you’re hot.”

You both laugh at that, even if the glimmer in Ben’s eyes tells you he’s not really teasing.

“Come on! Call me something proper, now!” Ben insists, and you nod.

“Alright, alright… that’s enough teasing.”

“Exactly!”

You stare intensely at him, and he waits patiently while you make up your mind. He’s expectant when he sees you opening your mouth to speak.

“Thomas.”

He lets out a frustrated cry.

“That’s even worse! No! It sounds like you’re calling my father!”

He shudders, and you double over with laughter.

“Stop laughing! That’s disgusting!”

“You should see your face!” you laugh, your stomach painful by now.

“You’re going to pay for this!” Ben warns you, and even though there’s a smile tugging at his lips again, you know he’s serious still. “You’ll have to make me forgive you for that.”

“Alright, alright… I’m sorry, that was going a little too far.”

“Indeed! Now, call me a sweet name or else…”

“Or else…”

“I’ll make sure you’re forgiven.”

You raise a surprised eyebrow.

“And how are you going to do that?”

He shoots you a bright grin.

“Oh, you’ll like that, don’t worry.”

“Will I?”

He nods with confidence, almost cocky.

“Someone’s a little full of himself over there…” you tease, but Ben merely shrugs.

“Realistic, rather.”

“Alright, anyway, I’m going to call you a cute name now, don’t worry.”

“I’m all ears.”

You grin at him, full of mischief, when you speak again.

“BENJAMIN!”

“You little minx!”

The next second you’ve jumped off the couch as Ben is sprinting towards you, running after you through your apartment, both of you laughing like crazy.

“Come back here!”

“No!”

He’s got you cornered after less than a minute, your back to the wall, and giggling like crazy.

“Now, baby, I call for a parlay,” you negotiate, but Ben is not fooled.

“Absolutely not.”

“Don’t tickle me. Please, don’t tickle me…”

“I’m not going to tickle you.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

You lower your guard a little, tilting your head.

“Kisses?” you offer as a truce, and Ben has to admit he’s tempted, but then a devilish grin spreads over his lips.

“I got better than kisses planned, darling.”

The next second, he’s bent down to pick you up on his shoulder, carrying you like a bag of potatoes across the apartment, striding towards the bathroom.

“Baby! Stop it! Put me down!”

But he doesn’t listen to you.

“Ben! Stop!” you laugh, swatting his naked back.

“And here is my name again…”

“Honey!”

“Too late!”

He steps into the bathroom, opens the door to the bathroom, and gently puts you down in the shower.

“I’ve already taken a shower!” you tell him with a frown. “You’re the one who needs one!”

But when his gaze turns more intense, you instantly fall silent, finally understanding his devilish plan.

He’s already stripping when he finally answers, his eyes still staring deep into your soul, and his smile has turned much more dangerous now…

“I know,” he nods, voice deep and husky now, terribly tempting. “But then again, if you’re so eager to say my name, why not moan it instead?”

*****************************************

Taglist: @reg-arcturus-black @wolfmoonmusic @sergeantbuckybarnes

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Am I (27m) the asshole for wanting my boyfriend (28m) to be attracted to me?

This involves sex as a topic but won't get explicit, I'll keep it vague. I'm asexual. Completely sex repulsed in a physical sense, mostly due to autistic sensory issues. I've never had any interest in sex and didn't have any libido at all before going on testosterone, so the way most allosexuals tend to view and think of sex is something I've always struggled to understand.

In previous relationships, my asexuality was handled in different ways depending on the person. One boyfriend was totally fine just not having a sexual aspect to our relationship, another one had a hookup he got my approval on. The compromise me and my last boyfriend came up with was that he'd text me his fantasies about me and that did a lot for him without me having to physically be in the situation, and even if I didn't get anything sexual out of it I did enjoy it. It was a confidence boost. I dont generally consider myself attractive or desirable, i wear sweaters in summer because im so self conscious, and this compromise actually did a lot to help me see myself in a different light.

I recently got into a new relationship and, as with every relationship I've been in, there's inevitably a discussion about how we're going to compromise on this issue. My new boyfriend didn't know anything about asexuality and barely understood when I explained but he's very insistent about not crossing my boundaries, which I appreciate. But the problem is, since he'd never considered sexuality from a less direct angle, he didn't really know where to even start with ideas when we were trying to work out a compromise. So, I started making suggestions, thinking back to what worked for other people I'd dated. Just abstaining wasn't going to be doable for him so I didn't suggest it, and he wouldn't be comfortable with a hookup.

I remembered my ex used to be able to get something out of telling me about his fantasies so I asked if that was something he'd be into. I wasn't angling to try to get him to agree to something, I genuinely just wanted to know whether or not that was an option to consider. He didn't actually answer at first, he went quiet and then he answered the question with another question and asked "wouldn't something like that make you uncomfortable?" And I said "no, because the physical component is the thing I have issues with, not the subject matter itself. So long as I don't have to directly engage in the situation, I'm golden."

I don't know if this is something that was really stupid of me to say and my autistic ass just didn't realize, but since he's so careful about my boundaries and comfort and tends to fret, I thought his problem in the moment was worry that I'd be making myself uncomfortable in an attempt to meet his needs. So I hurried to reassure him and said not only would it not make me uncomfortable, I'd enjoy it in a way. Not sexually, but I enjoy knowing that my partner is attracted to me. It makes me feel good about myself.

He got really upset. He doesn’t get upset easily and hadn't ever gotten properly upset with me before (at least not to this extent) so I was very taken aback, but I was floored by his reason for being upset. Not word for word, but he essentially said "so basically you want me to frustrate myself to feed your ego?"

I was, I think understandably, completely fucking appalled by such a suggestion. I said of course not, I was just suggesting something I knew worked for someone else because even if it wasn't his thing, we could narrow down options by process of elimination. Which made logical sense, to me. He wasn't calmed though, he started saying things like "so, you want your partner to be attracted to you even though you never plan on actually letting them act on that attraction? Do you see how cruel that is?" And... I don’t know, which is why I'm submitting this here. Is that cruel?

From my perspective, I would think it's only natural to want to know your partner finds you attractive, doesn't everyone want to be wanted to some degree? I don't get some sort of sadistic thrill out of it as he seemed to be implying, and I don't want it to impact my partners in a negative way. If this was something he would find frustrating then no, of course I wouldn't want him to frustrate himself, we could look at other options. When I made the suggestion, I figured the worst that would happen was he'd say no and we'd narrow down the list of options. I never imagined my moral character would be called into question.

He's usually so, so nice to me and it hit really hard for someone who’s usually so fond of me to say I sounded selfish and vain. Both actual words he used when this devolved into an argument. I explained my reasoning for suggesting it to begin with but he said the issue isn’t the suggestion, it's that he thinks that it's fucked up of me to want my partner to be attracted to me when I'm not going to indulge that attraction and it makes him wonder if I'm really a different, worse person deep down and he's only now getting to see it. He called it a red flag. That seemed like such a leap to me but I don't want to dismiss the suggestion out of hand. Many bad people think they're good people, so it's not out of the question.

This was our first real argument, previous disagreements had been talked out very calmly but emotions ran high with this one. I dont know if this is something that triggered him for deeper reasons, considering his reaction was so intensely out of the norm for him, or if the whole thing just looks entirely different from the perspective of someone who isn't sex repulsed.

Am I the asshole here? Is it really as fucked up as he says that I enjoy knowing my partner is attracted to me even though I won't agree to have sex with them?

We didn't discuss the topic any more that night, and it hasn't been brought up since. He hasn't been treating me differently than before, but he's always proactively apologized before when he was in the wrong about things and he hasn't this time, so to me that says he still stands by what he said. His words have stuck with me and they’re eating at me. I feel like such a horrible person, and I have no idea if I should feel more or less guilty about this.

Tl;dr: my boyfriend is upset that I like knowing my partners are attracted to me even though I don't want to and don't intend to have sex with them bc he thinks that's majorly fucked up and a red flag.

What are these acronyms?

[snarky-art]

Thriving vs Survivng, am I right, lads?

Bloom and Stella eventually get married, Daphne and the woman with her, Nadia, an oc I made and have mentioned a few times, get married with Daphne to be next in line as Queen of Domino, and Aisha and Musa get married one day, but are currently in this pic going through some Shit that’s putting a huge damper on that.

More info on everyone and political drama stuff below the cut!

Bloom and Stella are thriving.

Polyamory is super duper normalized in a decent amount of places, and is considered a norm on Solaria. Stella is eventually married both to Brandon and Bloom. Both of Bloom’s sets of parents love Stella and are incredibly happy for her. After much talk and deliberation between Daphne, Bloom, Marion, and Oritel to see how Bloom and Daphne are feeling after Daphne is healed up and in a good place and has processed shit, it’s decided Daphne will continue as heir and shall be next in line for rulership. Bloom meanwhile shall continue her role as guardian fairy, Holder of The Flame, and eventually upon her marriage to Stella will be Queen Regent of Solaria. She has a lot more flexibility this way too to go where she feels most comfortable, between Earth and other areas in The Magical Realm. Oritel and Marion don’t want Bloom or Daphne to feel trapped or be stifled with immense pressure if they can help it, and Bloom is still most comfortable on Earth, so having the option to go back and forth is important and something Marion and Oritel want her to not feel cut off from it, a mistake they made early on when they first got brought back from their stasis.

Formal picture of Nadia finally! An oc from Earth I made who’s Daphne’s gf and eventual wife. I thought it would be nice for Daphne to not worry about contextualizing her grief and trauma with someone who already had preconceived notions of her from myths and legends over the last 1000+ years.

Nadia: so you’re Bloom’s sister! That’s so cool! Do you have magic too?

Daphne, who at this point while not the holder of the flame anymore is still an incredibly powerful fire elemental who retains her nymphix and could hand bloom’s ass to her and call upon The Dragon at will whenever she wants: uh, yeah, some I guess.

Bloom: glad to see being a useless lesbian is a universal trait instead of just earth specific

Daphne: exCUSE ME-

Royal balls be like “The Incarnation of God Itself, heir to The Great Pillar of all of Magic Domino, The Dragon Reborn, Supreme Nymph of Magix, Princess Daphne, and Nadia, Barista on Tuesday, Thursday, and Weekends, of the plant Earth”

Like, oh boy, THEE DAPHNE, and Nadia from Starbucks.

Also don’t worry it’s not actually a Starbucks. It’s a small local cafe and bakery spot that Bloom really likes. Daphne went with her once, saw Nadia, and went 👀. Daphne doesn’t even like coffee also she just goes there for Nadia and was too anxious to ask about any other drinks so she just gets what Bloom got, would makes Bloom, who is not at all rich on Earth, pay for it, and then didn’t actually drink it.

Also, Nadia is definitely wearing heels here.

She’s only around 5’9 or ~175cm, while as I’ve mentioned before, Daphne is 6’7 or ~200cm.

She like to wear different heels and go “ok NOW how close am I to being taller than you” or sometimes go “ok, I think I beat you this time” when she tries on a new pair

She’s never close obviously and they both know that because hehe funny joke, but Daphne will still go “oh, you just might’ve this time.”

Musa and Aisha meanwhile are Struggling. Not only is Musa someone who is already insanely anti-monarch in her governmental views, even one that operates more as a democracy, the government she’s working with can’t stand her.

I’ve mentioned in these posts how marriage works on Andros, and Musa is Not It. She’s not even a Land Androsian, which would’ve been considered a bit of a scandal because of how their government structure is set up. No it’s much worse, for oh no, she’s not an Androsian at all! Truly horrific (I say this sarcastically, but that’s genuinely what the nobles and a chunk of the population feel).

Musa is doing what she can to appease Androsian court.

Gold is a big fucking no no on Andros, but she doesn’t want to give that up since it’s a really important part of her culture.

Aisha is standing with her on that, but it doesn’t make it easier to deal with the assholes in court.

She’s even muted her reds to lean more towards purples and blues.

Muting the reds was a huge olive branch of sorts and she’s pissed about it and doesn’t like doing it (but she did it, and it wasn’t even appreciated, but WHATEVER), but she refuses to get rid of the golds (good for her).

Aisha has gold nail polish here also. She’s doing what she can, and eventually is just gonna say fuck it and start wearing straight up gold with her silvers and tell Musa to get back in the bright red or so help me-

Stella let’s Aisha borrow her stash specifically when she first start and immediately commissions some custom ones done for Aisha’s measurements.

[fangirlies]

Jump your bones (x.t)

Pairing: Xavier Thorpe x Fem!reader

Summary: You shared a secret with your roommate Enid but little did you know it would bite you in the ass later on. 

Warnings: Swearing. Some mentions about sex. (Anything else I’d need to add, please let me know)

Word count: 989 words

part 2 • part 3

“Ugh can the two of you get a room!” you shout to your roommate and her boyfriend as they made out on her bed. “You guys are seriously starting to make me consider getting a new roommate.” As she separates from her lover, Enid laughs.

Ajax pouts mockingly, "Someone's upset they're not getting any love and affection from a specific someone." Enid gasps and softly hits him on the arm.

Knowing that Enid had revealed your secret to her partner, you glared at her.

———————

You two were playing ‘would you rather’ in the dark one night as you lay in bed, unable to sleep. You two were laughing at the options you were offering each other. 

"Would you rather be a vamp or a siren?" you asked into the darkness.  "Boringg" Enid replied, “Siren. But that was incredibly boring. Please y/n give me a juicy one!” 

You gave a gentle laugh sensing how eager she was for a challenge. Your thoughts became blank after a few minutes of contemplation. You couldn't come up with a question that would suit Enid's demand for a "hard choice." Enid broke the silence after observing your struggle.

"Would you rather fuck Xavier or Kent?" You gasped internally at Enid's bold choice of words since she rarely spoke in that manner, but a chuckle followed not long behind. 

"Easy, Xavier. I thought you wanted a difficult round!" You could tell Enid's eyes widened by your reply without even glancing at her.

Enid has been attempting to get any kind of information out of you since your first day at Nevermore. You, being the guarded individual that you are, never gave in. So this is the first time you've ever attempted to display emotion to Enid. It might have been the lack of sleep talking, or it could have been your desire to open up a bit since the two of you had grown close in the last several months, but either way Enid was eager to pull something out of you.

"Isn't Xavier cute?" She enquired. You pursed your lips into a straight line as the thought of actually fucking THE tortured artist crossed your mind. 

"He's sooo sexy. If I had the chance to jump his bones, I would not think twice about it." You both chuckled and continued your spicy game of would you rather till sleep took over.

————————

“You told him about that?” Your eyes widened in disbelief. Now standing up from your vanity and walking towards the couple. 

“That is so embarrassing Enid, how could you! Ajax, I totally did not mean I’d jump his bones. I just think he's cute. Not even! I think he’s decent looking but I would never--” Waving your hands up, you continue your rant like some kind of crazy person. Enid’s eyes were now bulging out of her skull. 

“Y/n, please stop. I never made it that far!”

You come to a complete stop and look over to observe Ajax's reaction when you realized what Enid just said. You started laughing uncontrollably, which was a tendency you had when you were extremely uncomfortable. Ajax was trying hard not to laugh, knowing that if he did, Enid would slap him again. This time most likely actually hurting him.

"Oh," was all you could utter in humiliation before spinning and reaching for your sweater. "I'll just pretend I was never here."

And with that you made your way to the quad.

  ‘Gosh y/n, you’re so ridiculous! He’s decent looking? Who even says that? This is so embarrassing.’ You thought to yourself as you took your usual seat at a bench. You knew you spoke far too much, letting out something that you never imagined leaving your dorms’ four walls. You sighed loudly as your fingers worked their way through the small knots of your hair.

“What’s on your mind, Tiny?”

It felt as though your heart stopped beating for a minute. You lifted your head from your hands, settling your gaze on the familiar pair of emerald eyes you enjoy looking into a little too much. His gem-like eyes had always been so soothing to you. So captivating. So mesmerizing. They made you instantly melt. You giggled at his nickname for you. When you two first met, you were given the nickname 'tiny.' The new name stuck because of how significantly smaller you are in comparison to this giant.

Scanning your head for any explanation, you frantically spewed out the first excuse that made any sense.

"Just swamped with schoolwork, nothing too serious," you say, giving him a small smile to make it seem credible. Xavier nodded slowly, indicating that he, too, was stressed about school.

"I could say the same thing. Drawing is the only thing that keeps my head above water sometimes."

As he offered you some advice, your heart melted.

 "Find something to keep your mind off of it for a while," the long-haired brunette continues as he stares off into the distance. " You like to write, don't you?  If you ever want to visit my shed for some quiet time, you're welcomed to hang out with me." You tilted your head to look him in the eyes. It was endearing to see him try to comfort you, even if it was just some bullshit reason you made up. Your pulse skipped a beat at the idea of you two alone in his drawing shed.

You gave him a genuine smile. "I'd like that" you replied as he started to rise from his previous sitting position.

“I’m sure you would, gives you the perfect excuse to jump my bones” he taunted as he whispered this in your ear. Exposing his perfectly white teeth just before making his way to his dorm room.

His last few words made your mouth drop open. Oh, you're going to destroy Ajax. No, you're going to destroy Enid. Both sound quite appropriate right now.

———————

A.N: hi my fan girlies! This is a little short writing about the insanely good looking Xavier Thorpe. I’m absolutely swooning over this 6’2 yummy man. Hope you enjoyed this.

Edit* this is my first writing ever in a very very long time! so happy you all are enjoying it <3

[petite-gloom]

Hi Megan, you’re one of the only autistic people in their 20s that I know, so I hope it’s ok to ask this, sorry it’s so long. I just found out I’m autistic (and quite possibly ADHD - awaiting dx) and that the shyness is actually Anxiety. I’m 24. I have a degree from university but have been unemployed for the past two years. I feel so worthless, everything seems futile? But I’m starting to realise why typical 9-5 office jobs aren’t the best fit for me - like sure, I could push through every day and get the work done but it drains me so much. I’ve been trying to figure out the things that bring me autistic joy - reading, art, playing piano, and makeup are a few things. But I’ve really been struggling to find out how to make these a career, or if I even should rely on these things to make money, lest they suck the joy out of it. I’m grateful to be able to live with my parents, but part of me feels like I’m being a burden by not bringing in some income/contributing financially. Do you have any advice/suggestions for me? I’ve been entertaining the idea of creating a YouTube channel, but worry that the anxiety and ADHD will keep me from being consistent or successful. I appreciate any feedback you may have. Thank you ❤️‍🩹 I hope you’re okay 🥹

i really wish i had something helpful to offer, but i'm not sure i do. i'm only two years older than you (26) and obviously work from home doing art, but i also live with a parent and struggle a lot behind the scenes. one thing i really want to give you a heads up on is that (depending on channel size), youtube doesn't really pay a lot- with just shy of 60k subscribers and 10-20k views per video (one video a week) i usually only make around £400 a month (sometimes a little more, sometimes a little less). the amounts fluctuate, don't match your estimated earnings, and are only updated accurately within adsense around 2 days before you get paid. it's not a stable or reliable way to make a living, which is why most youtubers have additional work and income streams. £400 is obviously still £400 and im very grateful to be able to add it to the household bills/groceries etc but it obviously isn't an amount that allows me to live independently, and the fluctuating nature of the payment amounts makes it hard to rely on for anything recurring. it's also a lot of work behind the scenes, and i do find it very difficult during weeks when im feeling more anxious or my mood is low. i don't say this to be discouraging (majority of the time, it's really fun to make videos!) but i just want to be real about what it's like as a small autistic youtuber.

it's hard to suggest other options because i don't know you personally- the level of your skills, how much support you need, how much rest, etc. people tell me there's money to be made on tiktok, so maybe that's something you could consider for makeup and/or piano (the videos are shorter so i wonder if it would be a little better for anxiety/adhd)? could you offer classes for either of these things? could you sell digital art? is there any part time work along the theme of your degree? i had a weekend job at a garden centre that i enjoyed for a long time, so maybe you could find something super chill with smaller hours that would pay a bit- a book or coffee shop?

i wish it was easier and that i had more suggestions but to be honest im always thinking the same- how can i make more to help? how can i make enough to be independent? how can i survive as an autistic person? what will my future look like? and i don't really have any of the answers, much to the horror of my own increasing anxiety. but i hope you can find something fulfilling to work on that pays a little. i hope you can find something that helps you feel as though you're contributing to your household. maybe you could express your concerns to your parents, and see if there are other ways to contribute? i know you mentioned financially, but things like cooking, cleaning, grocery shopping (if you don't already) can be nice ways to help support the household while they're working. my dad cooks and does the dishes, but i do a lot of the cleaning, and have recently taken over ordering and paying for groceries. he's autistic too, and this helps free up some of his mental space.

i don't know if any of this is helpful, but i hope it is. even if it isn't, please know that you're not alone in these concerns, or in this issue. i think it's a difficulty that all autistic people face as they age. we have different needs, often limited abilities, and it's very difficult to stay afloat in a world that is increasingly expensive, where you're expected to be able to work for more hours than you rest. i wish it was a bit easier for everyone. i wish things weren't so hard for disabled people especially

[hiiragi7]

(Warning for discussion of abuse)

There is a certain ableist and classist feel to the way that a lot of people talk about highschool education and graduation that I've noticed. "I bet they never graduated highschool" is often used as an insult and to imply stupidity, for example. I've noticed this trend for a long time, but struggled to put it into words.

While education is important, I often feel very put down by the amount of emphasis placed on being a highschool graduate (and, on the opposite end, the disdain for non-graduates). I never graduated, due to a variety of factors; I suffered very extreme abuse starting in first grade from the school environment (As a diagnosed autistic kid growing up in SPED in the 2000s, ABA was the standard), I was being abused at home, I moved schools a lot, I struggle with several disabilities which impacted my ability to learn and developmentally I was never really at the same level as my peers besides in English and art, I developed chronic physical issues while I was still in school due to a genetic condition, and finally, I was kicked out of the house when I was 17 by my parents and I just never ended up going back to school (not that I could have graduated anyway due to a variety of issues).

I was never able to learn quite right and that lead to me falling further and further behind. By the time I was in middle school, I was already so far behind my peers that even if my teachers had wanted to help me learn the content, there was so much they would have had to teach me that it would have been impossible for them to fit it into the time I had with them, especially when they had a lot of other students to attend to besides me. On top of that, I had already given up on my own education sometime during elementary school, so any attempts that were made by my teachers were not well-received by me. I had already developed a complex web of trauma responses to anything to do with school by that point.

It seemed that I was caught in an impossible situation where between the trauma I suffered with and my autism, I could not tolerate even being in a classroom setting, much less learn in it, but there were no other options, which lead to chronic activation of trauma responses which overwhelmed both me and my teachers as well as everyone else in my life. There was also no understanding for me in these settings either, and nobody informed enough to realize what was going on with me and why I was constantly either shutting down and unresponsive or having severe panic attacks. Rather, I was called lazy, manipulative, not trying hard enough, making excuses, acting out for attention, and a slew of other insults as well as near-constant punishments which only served to traumatize me further.

To this day, I only have a second grade education in math. I do not know multiplication, division, algebra, physics, chemistry, and a variety of other subjects. Attempting to study school subjects gives me flashbacks no matter which method I use, whether it's online or with another person or on my own. I am gifted in English, but otherwise I do not know many of the things that people are generally taught in school as kids.

When I tell people I never graduated, often the response is "it's okay, you can still get your GED!" as if me not having graduated is a character flaw that I must eventually work to fix. It makes me feel as though my worth and value as a person is tied to whether or not I have at least a highschool education, and that without it I am less worthy of people's time.

Going back to my initial point, if not graduating highschool makes you "stupid", you must also consider who in practice is unable to graduate highschool - I find it is often disabled kids, traumatized kids, and impoverished kids. Not all of them, I'm sure, but definitely a lot of them.

Tying intellect and a person's worth to whether or not they graduated highschool fucks over those who couldn't through no real fault of their own and frames them as lesser for it. How can you say you believe in disability rights when you shit on those who are too disabled to complete school? How can you say you are against classism when you view people who could not graduate due to having to work full-time as lesser than you?

I feel that regardless of how much people insist they are an advocate (or how much they say "No no, when I said people who don't graduate are stupid I didn't mean those people, I only meant what I see as the acceptable group of non-graduates to call stupid"), there are biases at play regarding perceived intellect and formal education. I am viewed as inherently less-than when people learn I did not graduate. My lack of a highschool graduation certificate or "at least" a GED is viewed with pity by just about everyone I talk to.

I don't have a neat way to wrap up this post, but I do think it is important for people to examine their own biases when it comes to discussing formal education, as well as the overlap of non-graduates and marginalized groups, especially as it pertains to disability politics and capitalism.

[lastsubstance]

How the TS gang feels about Mhin

(The Alchemist.) When everyone disperses and you have to choose who to follow.

Asking about Mhin.

You follow Ais.

MC: Maybe Mhin doesn’t necessarily like you, but they definitely pay attention to you.

Ais’s reaction takes me off-guard. He growls, pinches the bridge of his nose, as exasperated as I’ve ever seen him.

Ais: I make enemies as easily as I breathe, sparrow. Doesn’t bother me.

               But that dove’s got it out for me for no reason.

MC: Maybe they’re unsettled by the Seaspring.

Ais: It’s not about that.

               Goes without saying they’ve got some issues. Don’t think they understand that you catch more flies with honey than vinegar.

MC: Honey has left a bad taste in my mouth in the past. It could be the same for them.

Ais: At least you’re capable of a conversation.

               Do me a favor, and teach the dove some manners. Thought they’d lay off eventually if I didn’t bite. Hasn’t happened yet.

I briefly consider the possibility that Mhin wants to get bitten. I’m not about to propose that, though.

You follow Kuras.

MC: You and Mhin sounded like you knew each other well.

Kuras heaves a long-suffering sigh.

Kuras: I know them better than most…and less well than I would like.

               Like you, Mhin is a recent arrival. Their time here has been particularly difficult. As much as I would like to help…

He trails off, but I know exactly what he’s talking about. Mhin didn’t seem like the sort of person who would accept help easily.

MC: Do they always pick fights that are twice their size?

Kuras: I have implored them not to. They rarely listen.

You follow Leander.

MC: Mhin’s interesting. Not very forthcoming, though.

Leander: Ah, Mhin, my favorite grouchy freelancer. What’s your impression of them?

-OPTION SELECT--(Select "They seem lonely")—

MC: I get the feeling they could use a friend.

Leander: I think Mhin prefers to me alone.

MC: What makes you say that?

Leander: I’ve known them since they arrived to Eridia, and they’ve turned down every attempt I’ve made.

               Well, almost every attempt…

He trails off to take a deep swig of his drink.

Leander: Anyway, I’m just saying, if Mhin wanted to be your friend, you’d know.

—OPTION SELECT—(Select "They’re pretty irritable")—

MC: They’re a testy one.

Leander: You’ve got that right. Sometimes even paying Mhin for work can be a struggle.

MC: Mhin works for you?

Leander: Contract only. Mhin refuses to join the Bloodhounds, but they take jobs from me often enough to qualify.

               Just…don’t ever call them a Bloodhound, okay? I’ll get an earful.

You follow Vere.

MC: I’ve got to admit, I was surprised to see that you and Mhin know each other. Are you friends?

Vere: Oh, yes. We laugh, and go shopping, and have sleepovers where we braid each other’s hair and kiss with a little tongue.

I’m beginning to wonder if Vere’s ever had friends.

MC: Let me guess, you don’t like them.

Vere: Can’t stand them. The first time we met they stabbed me.

               Slid cold, hard steel between mt ribs. Nearly nicked my heart. It was exquisite.

               The knife, I mean. Some sort of antique. Mhin’s done nothing but disappoint me ever since.

MC: So you’re not close.

Vere: Can you imagine me being friends with that crabby little killjoy? Impossible. Not unless they learned to lighten up.

               And I’m afraid not even a surgeon as practiced as Kuras could remove the stick wedged firmly up Mhin’s pert ass.

[lollytea]

(Part 4 of La La Land Machine exposition posts!! I know I've made way more than 4 but this is the part that's going in chronological order. Like I've talked about Hunter and hunlow in this au before but this is his formal introduction, like Willow got in part 1. I also got quite a lot more followers since I last rambled about this AU so linking the other parts if they wanna catch up. And if they want, they can look through the tag for all the additional info.

PART 1

PART 2

PART 3

Anyway, I lied. We are only BEGINNING to talk about the hunlow slow burn. It's taken me long enough to set up Hunter and everything he's got going on. It sets up hunlow but they're not really close yet. But it won't even take that long to get the next post out because I am so excited to talk about them more)

Hunter Wittebane has lived his whole life wearing masks. He's been an actor before he developed object permanence. He was memorizing scripts by ear before he could fully read by himself.

Job after job, set after set, role after role. His environment is not only cutthroat competitive, but it's always in motion. Things never sit still. The biggest stability in his life was his Uncle Philip, whom Hunter loved intensely. Even if it felt like the only way he could express it was by bleeding.

But Hunter was only allowed to bleed in private. And if he wanted his Uncle to stroke his hair back and keep telling him he was special, he needed to prove it. He needed to be the second chance that he was born to be.

Hunter struggles to really understand who he is. Because he is seldom himself. If he's not playing a character, he's only known as the legacy of the Hollywood gem, Caleb Wittebane, Hunter's late father.

Hunter was quite sheltered as a child. Other than being out and about for business reasons, he didn't really get to experience much of the world. If he wasn't working, he was usually confined to his Uncle's house. Or hotel rooms. The only outings he goes on that are considered "personal" are to church.

He loves to read and he'll devour whatever book he gets his hands on. Unfortunately his options are limited to what his Uncle believes is appropriate. Philip views the world as a depraved and lecherous place, as are the people that inhabit it. If it weren't for this world and its poison, his brother would still be alive.

And then he wouldn't need to waste his time replicating his brother's likeness in some aimless weak willed child who can barely comprehend how important his performance is in all of this.

Philip refuses to allow outside forces to contaminate his nephew. If Caleb's soul is going to live on in the way it should have, they can't make a repeat of last time. Caleb's replacement has to remain on the right path, or his legacy goes up in flames.

The Bible is one of Hunter's top comfort reads. It's the only book that his Uncle seems pleased to know he's interested in. And he's pored over the pages so many times that the familiarity is soothing. It also puts the fear of God in him. As do Philip's frequent lessons. He's shaping up to be a very faithful little Christian.

Hunter also watches a lot of (Uncle approved) television. He's a tiny chatterbox but is pretty starved of socialization. If his Uncle isn't around, he's stuck with the family assistant Kiki, who usually ignores him. TV and books are mostly responsible for Hunter's expansive vocabulary.

As a shy but precocious little boy, his best friends are sweet, comforting preschool cartoon characters.

Even though Philip's life seemed to orbit around Hunter and he worked day and night for the sake of his nephew's success, a lot of the time he just....wasn't around. Sometimes Hunter went weeks without hearing from him and was left in the "care" of Kiki.

Hunter was always left wanting. On those lonely nights when Philip was away, he would beg Kiki to call him so Hunter could at least say goodnight. All for the sake of holding the phone tight against his ear and hearing his Uncle's soft spoken "Sleep well, Hunter," so his world felt a little less cold.

If Philip even answered.

But when Uncle was home, Hunter found himself with some very guilty feelings and ungrateful thoughts.

The details are not important. By that, I mean Hunter is quite uncomfortable recounting the things that used to happen in the Wittebane house when his Uncle was home.

He said them aloud once. At the age of sixteen, when his breathing was in sync with the girl he had fallen in love with and her fingers were tracing gentle paths down his bare back. He felt like he had melted into a world where he could say anything.

It didn't stop his voice from wavering nor his throat from threatening to close up. It was like he was having a full body rejection of the admission. These were secrets meant to remain locked up in his chest until his heart went still.

But he said them. And after that, they couldn't go back to being unsaid.

He didn't say them again for many years. It wasn't until he was a grown man. He wrote them down and he told the whole world.

But we're getting ahead of ourselves.

The point is that when Philip was away, Hunter got lonely and wanted his Uncle back. When Philip was home and focused all of his attention on his nephew, Hunter wanted nothing more than for him to be gone again. He knew that was an awful thing to want and the guilt ate him alive.

Did he not love his Uncle? Of course he did! He loved him more than anything.

That's why it hurt so much.

Sometimes, his Uncle was a comfort to Hunter's anxious heart. He held him in his arms and hushed him when Hunter had nightmares. He was safety.

And other times, he was the reason for those nightmares and Hunter didn't feel like he could be safe until that man was out of the house again.

Maybe, no matter what happened, he'd never be truly happy with any situation he was put in. Maybe the state of "being happy" just wasn't real, but a thing TV made up. There was just something inherently empty and scary about being alive.

At least that's the conclusion the small boy came to. This remained his mindset as he navigated the big loud upsetting world around him, which only got bigger and louder and more upsetting as Hunter got older and his career grew.

The most glaring problem Philip encountered grooming Hunter in Caleb's image was that there's a drastic difference between a man who achieved the most undiluted burst of stardom in his twenties and a toddler. Hunter can not immediately slide into the dignified shadow his father left behind, because he's too young for the kind of dramatic roles that Caleb had dazzled the world with.

There was nothing available to little Hunter that Philip felt lived up to the standards of Caleb in his prime. Which was understandable but disappointing. So, with a heavy exhale, which made Hunter worry the hem of this shirt ("Am I doing something wrong, Uncle?") Philip relented. Hunter would need a lengthy portfolio by the time he was older, so it was now time to start building this budding actor from the ground up.

Commercials, TV appearances, small film roles. Though it pained him to do so, Philip abandoned all the initial integrity he attached to his brother's legacy, and focused primarily on simply getting Hunter's face on a screen, any screen, whatever it took to get him entrenched in the industry.

Hunter was a lot more sensitive than other children. When he was very little, he had a bad tendency to get distressed over things like bright lights and unfamiliar places and weird textures. This led to a lot of on-set tantrums and he was deemed a difficult and entitled brat.

His "brattiness" never quite went away as he aged. But Philip did manage to curb those tendencies to be far less frequent. It involved brief private conversations in the nearest dressing room. When Hunter emerged, he was quieter and a lot more willing to co-operate with what the adults needed from him.

Hunter learned that misbehaving had consequences. He learned to swallow whatever obscure distress he was feeling and just do his job.

This didn't make his tantrums stop. They just shifted from regular occurances to big nasty explosions that build up over a period of weeks to months.

He eventually gave up trying to suppress them. It doesn't work. So, he just allows his emotions to burst out of him in the most humiliating public display a human being can put on, and then takes his punishment.

Uncle keeps telling him that people are going to think there's something wrong with him if he keeps doing this.

Hunter begs him to believe that there's not. There's not something wrong with him.

While it was happening, Philip would consider the 90s as a rocky beginning to his nephew's career. He didn't care much for any of the films or television series' Hunter appeared in, likely because he didn't care much for any production that included small children. So he was uninterested by default in any of the roles Hunter managed to book.

Regardless, this didn't make Philip any less demanding. Even if it was all tripe, and by God, he was very vocal about it all being tripe, he was still strict about Hunter's work ethic. The boy was expected to pour everything into his performance, and through there were very irritating child labor laws, Philip turned a blind eye to directors pushing the limits every now and again.

After long work days, Hunter would listen to his Uncle tear his current acting job to shreds. The stupid demeaning script that Caleb would be appalled at, but Hunter had no choice but to take, because he simply doesn't have the privilege to be picky.

Hunter felt a deep humiliation by his own career before he was even ten years of age. There was nothing that Philip held to Caleb standard, which left Hunter a paranoid wreck most of the time, fearing that he was always doing something wrong but never knowing how to fix it.

When he thinks back on being a little kid, he has a lot of memories of tearfully begging his Uncle to stop thinking of him a certain way or looking at him the way he does. He remembers his throat hurting. Things must have gotten loud.

An older Hunter would wince as he makes that connection. He remembers his throat hurting but not the consequences of raising his voice.

Every so often, a more prestigious opportunity presented itself to him (like the role of the protagonist's son in a film adaption of an American classic), and Hunter got so overwhelmed by the pressure of finally having something that could possibly hold a candle to Caleb Wittebane that he completely flubbed the audition and failed to book the role.

He knows that were dire consequences for not getting it. Although, once again, he doesn't remember the details of the punishment. But he remembers how tightly Uncle gripped his wrist as they walked out of the building. He remembers sitting perfectly still in the car, scared to make a sound by wriggling in his seat. Scared to breathe.

That was the 90s. That was Hunter's experience as a young child actor.

By the year 2000, he was ten and that's when Philip quietly realized something.

Hunter currently resembled Caleb Wittebane in miniature. He had his strong nose, his ashy hair, his dark eyes. Philip had always anticipated that there may be a bit of her in his nephew's appearance, but there wasn't a trace. It was beyond ideal.

This is when things should have gotten easier. This is when dignified job opportunities should have begun rolling in. This is when the world should have taken notice that Caleb Wittebane was not dead.

But this was not the case.

What Philip did not anticipate was that the industry had changed significantly since the 80s. It was the year 2000 and a young Caleb Wittebane was not what the industry wanted the future of film to look like.

He realized this in his study late one night as he obsessed over old video tapes. And once the truth had sunk in, he called Hunter into the room.

Hunter remembers wearing red pajamas patterned with beagle puppies. He has a memory of liking those pajamas a lot but can't recall the disappointment of growing out of them and throwing them away. It makes him suspect that at some point he just stopped wearing them.

On that night, a part of Philip gave up completely. He decided that this attempt of reviving his late brother's career was a failure before it had even started.

However, Philip was a deeply complex man. A remarkably stubborn man. So even when a part of him died, another part flared with life. It was the part of him that wanted to dig his heels in and say he wasn't done yet. Maybe they didn't want Caleb now, but this world was fickle. Who knows what they'd want in five years? In ten?

Hunter would continue making a name for himself, Philip would make sure of that.

Hunter would be something special if it damn near kills him.

And if he fails, Philip would kill the boy himself.

So, Hunter continues working diligently, attempting to find his footing in the rapidly changing environment. The early 2000s seem to be working overtime to distance itself from the 90s and it certainly takes some getting used to.

When Hunter is around eleven, he is told for the first time that he is not very nice to look at. According to various make up artists and hair stylists who he is left in the custody of when Kiki is god knows where, it's very easy to be cute as a small child. Baby fat n' all. But at a certain age, you start outgrowing it and that's when it becomes apparent whether you're going to be a handsome young man or not.

They gently break the news that there are not a lot of promising signs for Hunter. As one of the women, maybe in her late twenties, cups his face in her hands and tilts it towards the light (he really hates when strangers touch him), she sucks through her teeth and winces, as though she's trying to dig something out with her eyes but is coming up short. Nothing about his features reads as a future leading man. He can still have a steady acting career of course. But it's important he not get his hopes up too high. He's doesn't look like the typical Hollywood star.

Hunter argues with her. He riles himself up until his face flushes with rage. He looks just like his father, who was one of the most famous leading men of all time.

"Who's your Dad?" The woman asks.

Hunter frowns. He's never said the word "Dad" in his life. But the full name is familiar on his tongue when he answers the question.

"Oh, yeah," She says vaguely. "I think my parents used to watch his movies. I guess he was what they considered handsome in the 80s but..."

He doesn't like the way she trails off. He doesn't like all the new information being presented to him. He doesn't like her saying Caleb Wittebane wasn't handsome. In the world Hunter lives in, the man is picture perfect in every discernable way. He's never heard a bad word spoken of his father before, not even of the shallow variety. Uncle only lets him speak to people with nice things to say about Caleb. It's so jarring that it makes him feel nauseous. This isn't the way things are supposed to be.

And what's even worse, does looking like Caleb Wittebane not even matter?

Does this legacy he's supposed to carry on not matter?

That's always been one of his biggest fears, but he can not think about it for too long or the meltdown gets bad. But this new realization about his apparently mediocre looks catch him so off guard that he can't help it this time.

Hunter proceeds to hyperventilate in a supply closet for the next twenty minutes. He had never thought about what he looked like before. He had never really cared. He didn't know his appearance could hinder his career. He didn't know everything could fall apart just by having the face he does.

This is when a deep seated insecurity centered around his body image began spiraling out of control. It was also around the time that Hunter's dietary restrictions were being implemented, as were the intensity of his ballet lessons. This certainly did not help his already deteriorating self confidence.

From that point, Hunter is far more conscious of his own ambitions as an actor. He believes he is more than just a little boy who performs because it's what his Uncle tells him to do. He's a young man who wants to become a success like his father before him. He wants recognition. He wants acclaim. He wants...he wants....he wants something that he does not currently have.

As an adult, Hunter can only drag his fingers through his hair and sigh sympathetically at the thought of his young self believing that his determination to be a successful was ever for himself. It was for Uncle. It was for Caleb Wittebane. It was for everybody but himself. He was just a stupid kid who thought he wanted this because he knew nothing else.

The 2000s are a time when Hunter simultaneously starts slipping out of his iron confines, while getting reeled back tighter than ever. As he grows older, his curiosity becomes more and more insatiable and current pop culture is not as easy to shield him from. Especially when it's such a huge part of his life as an actor.

By the age of twelve, he's such a boring obedient self sufficient little robot that Kiki doesn't even bother monitoring him as severely as she once had. What's he gonna do, really?

And though Hunter is adamant that he never breaks his Uncle's rules, he finds himself shattering them to smithereens on a regular basis.

"I like authority. And rules," He says, ignoring the fact that there are piles of teen magazines tucked away under his mattress. Ignoring the hour of TV he sneaked in that Philip would have shattered the television screen over.

And no matter how many times Hunter wrinkles his nose in disapproval at how rowdy and frivolous today's youth are, he's still reading those trashy articles, desperate to find some connection. His small bubble of worldliness is beginning to grow.

It is slowly occuring to Hunter that he is much different than other kids. But that's a good thing....right? He's on a cleaner path than they are. None of them are being led by Philip Wittebane.

This is a good thing, he tells himself. This is a good thing, this is a good thing, this is a good thing--

However, Philip does crack down on an aspect of Hunter's autonomy that has been mostly ignored until now.

Though he tries not to think about it, as it gives him the most splitting headache, Philip must internally acknowledge those rumors from an age ago. The word of mouth telephone that crackled with the events of that one ridiculous party. Caleb Wittebane, age 17(!!!!) with his tongue down some filthy girl's throat.

The news hadn't been as scandalous as Philip viewed it as, and the world forgot about it remarkably fast. But he never forgot. And he never would. It was a pesky stain on the otherwise clean image that Philip was trying to preserve.

It hadn't been Caleb. It wasn't like him at all to behave in such an indecent way. It was her influence. It always was. Sometimes his blood boiled when he remembered how deeply interwoven she had become in his brother's life. How the child wouldn't even exist without her. It was vile. Eternally contaminating a narrative she had no business being a part of.

Obviously, he never told Hunter about all this. About the party. About the tongue. About the girl. He never mentioned the girl. She was a footnote at best.

Anyway, Hunter was almost thirteen. He was tumbling into adolescence. And no matter how singleminded and sensible he tried to act, there would be challenges to this physical and mental development. And Philip knew from personal experience that there was nothing more damaging to a clean Christian boy than fizzling teenage hormones.

There would not be a repeat of last time.

On Hunter's thirteenth birthday, his Uncle gifted him a chastity ring, like many of the other young people that attended their church.

Hunter was so floored by the gift he forgot how to speak. And when his Uncle put his hand on his shoulder and murmured "I know you won't let me down," Hunter had nodded solemnly, suddenly feeling so much older than he had been a moment before.

He now had a responsibility to refrain from things he hardly understood.

Philip felt this would be an effective precaution. It made Hunter feel important and Hunter loved to feel important.

All that concerned Philip was that the boy stick to his morals.

Keeping his stupid tongue in his stupid mouth was only the tip of the iceberg of what the rules of the chastity ring entailed, but Philip stressed the importance of it nonetheless.

And if the boy failed to do this one simple thing, Philip was going to gouge his eyes out.

A few months later, Hunter was hired to appear in an advertisement produced by his family's church. He, and several other actors in his age range, promoted the rings they wore to the children watching at home.

Hunter was very proud to be a part of it. He rarely got to do anything educational.

When Hunter was fourteen, he surprisingly booked a role as Sir William in some medieval fantasy film for swoony teen girls.

He rolled his eyes over it, but this was the point when Philip made it apparent to Hunter that swoony teen girls was a huge chunk of the target demographic of any actor his age so he best begin pandering. He was no Edric Blight (Hunter fucking hated Edric Blight) but he'd probably appeal to some.

The means of obtaining the role was not Hunter's talent alone, but it was because of a perfectionist director who wanted raw, emotionally gripping action scenes, and was disappointed that all the hazardous exploits in the script would require stunt doubles. No parent in their right mind would allow their child to be put in such dangerous conditions.

Enter Philip Wittebane and his nephew Hunter.

The film's shooting schedule had a rough history. And after a few months, production had to stop altogether when an on-set accident resulted in Hunter being sent to the hospital.

He remembers the hospital, specifically the very uncomfortable bed. He remembers rarely sleeping through the night unless he was drugged, as he kept waking up with panic attacks about all the money he was causing the studio to lose by not healing faster.

By the time the film released, Hunter was fifteen and already moving forward with his next project.

The Golden Guard was a TV adaption of a well loved comic book series that was currently in the development stages. Hunter has never read the comic (he's never read most comics, other than newspaper funny pages) but he's been informed that he is the spitting image of the titular character.

Initially he was skeptical. Who wants a famous superhero on their screen who looks like him? Certainly not current networks who have a very limited view of what leading men should look like, regardless of the comic it's being adapted from.

Apparently, a lot of negotiations have been taking place with the Golden Guard's creator, in order to obtain rights to the series. After months of arguing, they wore him down, as they always manage to wear creators down, and he agreed to hand over his baby.

The one condition that he managed to secure was that the boy cast for the screen resembled the boy on the page.

Hunter was fully aware that if it weren't for that old man's stubbornness, there was no way he would have been eligible for the role. He remembered seeing him appear once during a screen test and had wanted to thank him. The speech that fell out of him was flustered and clumsy, but it made the man smile.

"There are going to massacre the Golden Guard," He said with a bitter smile. "But I think you'll do well."

He never saw him again after that. And though Hunter did not have the frame of reference to have an opinion, the girl he would inevitably fall in love with happened to be a huge comic book nerd, being especially infatuated with the Golden Guard. And her opinions were strong.

"He was right, y'know," She would inform Hunter. "Your show is a steaming pile of shit." She would then kiss the tip of his nose. "But you're the best part of it."

Speaking of girls,

Hunter met Emira Blight a year prior when she and her twin brother also showed up for the chastity ring promotional ad. The two of them would have gotten fired for vandalizing the set and pranking the director if they weren't the most well known stars associated with the project.

Someone had tried to contact their mother to come get her children under control but she had failed to pick up the phone.

"Our precious little Mittens has an audition today," Emira explained, hands placed angelically behind her back.

"Until further notice, Mom has forgotten she has two other kids," Added Edric.

Emira smiled. "Like the next time she notices her stretch marks <33"

The two of them burst into giggles. They were left to be "disciplined" by members of the crew, who hadn't the faintest idea how to handle either of them.

Hunter had tried to avoid them while on set. He never had any personal encounters with them but he was well aware of their existence. They had been starring in twin centric comedies for the last decade or so, and were beloved talk show guests for being chatty, mischievous and overall "adorable."

Hunter found them obnoxious.

Edric more so than Emira. Especially lately, as the two were finally branching out into their own separate careers, rather than remaining a double act. Meaning Edric could be found sniffing around in the same auditions rooms as Hunter, going for the same roles.

Edric had a perfectly structured face, devoid of blemishes. He had the most photoshopped nose Hunter had ever seen, except he looked like that in real life apparently. He looked perfect and he was already a star to begin with. The roles were his the moment he stepped into the room.

But this wasn't about Edric. Edric was off somewhere else, performing the leading role in some teen musical movie that was going to become a worldwide phenomenon the moment it hit television screens.

This was about Emira, who had just been cast as Ruby Green, the Golden Guard's love interest.

Emira Blight was one of the most beautiful teenage girls in the entire world. Hunter knew this because he read it in a magazine once. More specifically, she placed 4th on the list, but that was still a pretty impressive accomplishment.

Hunter always had a difficult time deciphering the exact definition of beautiful. It was apparently a far different thing than what you would initially imagine.

From what he had gathered, it had nothing to do with being particularly interesting to look at, but having a nice and tidy face with all its features being a specific size and shape. He couldn't understand how one girl on that list could be in 8th place, while another could be in 3rd, as they all looked so startlingly similar.

That was what beautiful meant, he supposed.

There were definitely people that Hunter saw as beautiful in their own peculiar way. In the way that wasn't correct. Sometimes he saw them in movies from the 80s-90s. Sometimes he saw them in audition rooms, but they rarely booked the role.

Sometimes he even saw them on the street as the car drove past, people who made him sit up and want to look at them a little longer--

Girls. Girls on the street. Just girls. Only girls. It was only girls that he looked at on the street. It was only girls that he looked at ever.

Emira Blight had Edric's perfectly structured face, which made her beautiful in a celebrity kind of way, but also made Hunter want to look at her less. She had Rapunzel hair and a rail thin frame and, much to Hunter's dismay, she was taller than him.

The wardrobe department were given notes to add an extra few inches to the Golden Guard's boots.

"Little Prince indeed," The head stylist had murmured under his breath, just loud enough for Hunter to hear. An furious flush set his face aflame.

There were no screen test to determine Hunter and Emira's chemistry before the latter was cast, which resulted in hours of reshoots where they were chastised for the lack of romantic tension that they were putting into their performance.

To be perfectly honest, Hunter disliked Emira quite a bit and she disliked him too.

She carried her troublemaking tendencies from the promotional ad to the Golden Guard set, frequently wreaking havoc on the cast and crew.

Hunter had blown a gasket and berated her for it several times, but all she had done was smile her insufferable smile, roll her eyes and sing songingly tease him for being so uptight.

She made him mad. So uncomfortably mad. If he pulled the kind of stunts she pulled, without caring about the consequences, he would probably be dead by now.

Emira rarely got angry. Everything she did had this air of impish joy, but based on the way she spoke to Hunter, her opinion of him wasn't exactly glowing.

She called him arrogant, bossy, egotistical, to which he practically exploded in response. And then she made fun of how red in the face he got.

The only time Hunter ever saw Emira as anything less than her usual bombastic self was early in the morning, during hair and makeup.

"Are you washing your face, honey?"

"Yes," Answered Emira, looking smaller than ever in the makeup chair.

"Drinking plenty of water? Eating healthy? Staying away from junk food? Getting plenty of exercise?"

"Yes, yes, yes and yes," Emira's voice was quiet and automatic.

After a pause, she continued "It's not my fault."

The makeup artist hummed, unconvinced, which made Emira grip the seat so hard her fingers shook.

But the woman didn't push the matter any more and got to work on painting Emira's face into the porcelain masterpiece that made its way on to magazines.

Hunter watched in fascination as a few minutes of work with sponges and brushes wiped her skin clear of acne. And then she was what everyone around here would call beautiful once again.

When Emira noticed him looking, she said, in her usual playfully indifferent voice "I think Hunter's eyebags are getting worse."

"We know," The woman replied, exasperated.

The comment wasn't much, but it successfully corralled Hunter into his default mood. Not being enough. Any thoughts about Emira flew out the window, and he was back to fretting about his own inadequacy.

"And he's more sickly looking than usual," Emira decided to add.

"Well, maybe if he laid off the coffee. It's got him looking like a half-dead ghoul. No wonder it takes so long to make him look presentable."

It was a bad time for Hunter to be taking a sip of his takeaway cup. He frowned. "I've been awake since 4:30am."

"You should go to bed earlier then,"

"But I--"

"And kids shouldn't be drinking coffee at all."

"I'm not a kid!"

"Hush up. We've got work to do on this face and the last thing I need is to listen to you bitching again,"

Hunter glowered at her.

"You're gonna have wrinkles before you're 18 if you keep pouting like that."

He was so preoccupied with not throwing a temper tantrum that he didn't notice Emira leave the room.

The worst thing she ever did was while they were filming episode 3 and she had decided that Hunter's uptight behaviour deserved a humbling punishment. He didn't know how but she had somehow managed to break into his trailer and scavenged the place for something embarrassing.

This resulted in his stuffed frog Sprig being paraded around the set in Emira's arms as she declared the toy's owner to everyone who would listen in a high pitched trill. Everybody. She told everybody. Everybody knew about his toy. And now nobody was going to treat him seriously.

And when Hunter finally processed what was happening, all he had wanted to do was cry.

But he couldn't cry. Because fifteen year old boys don't cry. But he wanted to cry so badly that his usual screaming rage was nonexistent. He was just completely deflated.

He silently took the frog from Emira's possession and walked away. She had seemed confused, not understanding why he was not turning his funny red colour and yelling his head off.

She didn't bait him as much after that. She rarely spoke to him at all, outside of filming.

At one point she had randomly burst into his trailer, brandishing a magazine full of women in bikinis.

"For you!" She announced proudly. "A gift."

Hunter was a little slow on the uptake because a bikini magazine being within ten feet of his person was so incriminating that immediately thinking of the consequences nearly made him black out.

When he could speak again, he exploded "ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?? GET THIS OUT OF HERE!!"

"No, no, listen," Emira insisted. "I know your Uncle is like. Super Christian--"

"So am I!"

"And I know you're never gonna get your hands on this stuff by yourself. So, I'm helping,"

"Why do you even have this?" Hunter demanded, disgusted.

Emira took more than half a second to answer. "It's Ed's."

As if anything on earth could have made Hunter want to touch the thing less.

"Why..." He began, lost. "Why would you ever think I would want this?"

Emira cocked her head at him, puzzled. "You're a boy."

"Get out."

At the time, Hunter had presumed this to be another means of humiliating him, because he had quickly written Emira off as inexplicably cruel. But in hindsight, she had probably just been trying, in her own emotionally stunted way, to apologize to him. She had known next to nothing about boys and she knew even less about herself, other than she was a thing boys were meant to be obsessed with.

They were both just stupid kids who couldn't communicate properly to save their lives, because they had never learned how.

As a child, Emira ranged from a mild bully to an indifferent co-star, to an acquaintance of Hunter's. As an adult, she was the close friend in his Instagram comments section who kept hitting on his wife.

She still never figured out boys, but she figured out herself.

But again, getting ahead of ourselves.

Despite being the only two teenagers on set, Hunter and Emira did not spend much time together unless they were working. Once she settled down and stopped causing problems, Emira spent a lot of her time across the studio to visit her little sister, who was filming some preteen comedy show.

Hexside it was called. Some some vapid sugary husk of a television production that had magic and witches, yet not an ounce of dignity. Hunter had become quite a ruthless critic when it came to TV and film, mostly because he had spent his whole life in the company of a man with sky high standards.

It also helped him feel better about his own work as an actor. The glass half full method. Maybe the Golden Guard was not going to be the most brilliant show of all time, but at least he wasn't working on Hexside.

He had caught glimpses of Emira's sister a few times around the studio, mostly because her hair had been dyed a bright garish teal, so she was impossible to miss.

There were other cast members scattered about, you could usually tell from the explosion of layers and clashing patterns they were dressed in. Chunky belts, brightly coloured converse, weird pointy hats, jangly jewelry. They were a visual overload.

On one occasion, Hunter was waiting in line at the canteen. He was feeling lightheaded again, like if he didn't eat something in the next hour he would probably pass out while shooting. The last time that happened, it was really embarrassing.

He was a little zoned out, so he didn't pay them much attention at first. But then the poofy tutu-like skirt and zebra print leggings caught his eye, if only for him to wonder how in the Lord's name these young actors ever signed up for this ridiculous show.

It was a girl and a boy and their conversation entailed some familiar words and names that Hunter hadn't heard said in months.

Ah. The movie. The swoony teen girl movie. That had just released in theaters, hadn't it?

That's when the girl brazenly stated "I wanna sink my teeth into Sir William," successfully knocking Hunter straight out of the realm of sensibility.

What. In the name of all that is holy. Is that supposed to mean???

And also.....he's Sir William.

"You want to BITE ME??" Hunter finds himself blurting out, completely flummoxed. Was that a threat of violence? Did she not like his performance? Did she find his voice annoying like those other film critics? He used to get a lot of death threats for that when he was younger but...

It didn't really sound like a death threat. It was was just....absurd. How was he supposed to take this?

The girl whipped around, flashing Hunter with a very bright pair of green eyes. They were blown wide in panic, and she looked at him like he was the one about to bite her.

(He wasn't about to bite her.)

The girl wasn't tall, but she was big. Broad shoulders and a thick chubby build. Her face was rounder than he usually saw in young actresses, and her nose was wide and flat.

All he could really think as he was digesting these all details at once was....she was interesting to look at.

Hunter watched as a fluorescent shade of pink burned across her lightly freckled cheeks and the girl scurried away, flanked by the younger boy, calling after her.

For some reason, Hunter turned around to watch her leave until she was completely out of sight.

He was left more confused than ever.

What did he do that deserved biting? He never found out.

(Well, he found out eventually but....)

He continued to see that girl around the studio sometimes, as well as the young boy that accompanied her, and Emira's little sister.

The bigger girl usually tried to hide whenever she saw him, though Hexside's flamboyant wardrobe department made that nearly impossible. Hunter presumed she was embarrassed by what she said, though he really wasn't all that offended. He had heard way worse. The thing that drew his attention to her was actually the lengths she would go to to make herself invisible. He watched her dive under a table once.

Hunter usually just stared, not remembering until an hour later that embarrassed people don't like being stared at.

Eventually, Hunter and Emira started spending occasional school hours with the Hexside cast's tutor, which resulted in them all being lumped in a room together.

Her name was Willow Park, he learned. And with a little exposure therapy, she stopped blushing every time he was within ten feet of her. Though they still never really talked, she seemed to become a little more comfortable with his existence.

She didn't look at him much though. Or anybody for that matter. She seemed to be very guarded and closed off whenever they were in the school room. Hunter had also noticed that the tutor had to spend more time with her than anyone else.

But Willow Park was not currently where Hunter's head was at the moment. He had other things to deal with.

The recent Golden Guard script had been delivered to Hunter and did not really like what it had to say.

Apparently several episodes of the romantic tension that Hunter and Emira were famously bad at was finally coming to fruition in this big grand dramatic kiss scene.

Hunter did not think about kissing much because it made him feel very weird and squirmy, but he was always well aware that if he was ever kissing a girl anytime soon, it would probably be circumstances like this.

His opinion on romance in general is that he wasn't quite sure if it was something that could really happen in real life or if it was just a concept made up for TV.

First kisses were considered a milestone in the shows and magazines Hunter had secretly devoured. Something sacred and significant. It can't be with just anyone.

Admittedly, it had Hunter second guessing himself a little bit. Is his first kiss important? Or is that just a bunch of silly TV fluff with no grounds in reality?

It doesn't matter if it's Emira, does it? He's read books where first kisses are supposed to feel like you've been electrocuted. But in a good way. He can't imagine being electrocuted in a good way.

He gets his answer on the day of shooting when the kiss is ordered of him.

He should be grateful that they've been directed to keep it chaste. They both wear rings after all, and this is a family show.

Hunter squeezed his eyes shut, because eyes are always shut when people kiss in movies. And his mouth pricks Emira's mouth. And that's it. That's his first kiss over and done with.

And when he opens his eyes, a little underwhelmed and vaguely wondering why everything feels the exact same, Emira looks disappointed too.

That's when he realizes that the significance of first kisses is all lights and cameras. It's made up for TV. None of it is real.

But what he can't understand in the moment is why he feels a bit sad. There's no reason to feel sad.

But it's an annoyingly heavy emotion that sticks with him for the rest of the day.

They do a million shoots. Or what feels like a million. Hunter kisses Emira what feels like a million times. He had gone from having never kissed before to having kissed far too many times in one day.

And not a single kiss felt like anything but the usual emptiness that Hunter was used to.

During shooting breaks, he thought a little too much about how everything was just going to be like this. Forever. All of his experiences. Scripted. Made up. Not real.

Nothing was ever going to be real.

He didn't usually think about things like that. But now he was finding it hard to think about anything else.

Hunter couldn't sleep that night. You would think he'd sleep soundly when he had to get up before the crack of dawn, but he continued to struggle. Too much caffeine, too much brain bees that never shut up.

Tonight it was that one single thought of an entirely artificial lifetime.

Hunter was never going to be real.

After hours of restless tossing and turning, he left his bed and went downstairs, his footsteps expertly navigating across the creaky floorboards. He would watch something terrible on TV and he'd get so distracted by hating it that he'd forget his own problems.

After pushing a button, the first thing that appeared on Hunter's screen was a familiar girl's rounder than average face and bright green eyes.

Apparently, the Hexside Pilot had premiered recently. Hunter scoffed, making himself comfortable and deliberately tuning into whatever brain rotting stuff he was about to experience.

Unsurprisingly, he hated it. It was terrible. Cheap jokes. Flimsy plots. An obnoxious laugh track. He had never seen a worse show in his life.

Nothing is real, I'm not real, I'm not real, Nothing is real, I'm not real....

The costumes looked just as ridiculous on screen as they did in the studio.

Nothing is real....

The sets were cheap.

I'm not real....

Hunter abruptly paused mid laugh track, and stared at Willow Park's interesting face for an additional moment.

He knew absolutely nothing about this girl. Absolutely nothing.

The character she played was borderline illiterate, and Hunter genuinely could not say how much of her he was seeing was a script and how much was her.

But she was very lookable.

Are you real?

[the-painted-siren]

Anything At All

Summary: Lloyd is an adult who’s perfectly capable of taking care of himself—or so he wants Zane to believe. Good thing Zane doesn’t believe. Notes: A little thing I wrote for Round 1 of Who Wrote That in the Ninjago fic server I’m part of. Decided to polish it off and post it bc I had a good time writing it.

“You’re upset.”

It’s a statement, not a question. 

Lloyd glances up, his expression one that Zane knows all too well: brows creased, face pinched, eyes gleaming with a sheen of exhaustion. Lloyd leans back in his chair, an irritated grumble rumbling in his throat. 

“I am not.” Lloyd throws his pencil onto the stack of scrolls before him. The names of each of his students lay across the pages, accompanied by notes, diagrams, and schedules. Eraser shavings and crumpled-up papers overflow on his desk. 

“It's normal to be upset,” Zane says. “You're stressed from a long day.” 

Lloyd waves him off, yawning. “I’ve seen worse days,” he mutters. “I can get through this one.” 

“Have you eaten today?” 

Lloyd combs his fingers through his hair, a heavy sigh rolling out of him as he sinks down into his chair. He doesn’t look at Zane for the longest time, but the corners of his mouth turn to a pout like a child that’s been caught stealing sweets before dinner. 

“No,” he finally admits. “But it’s fine. I’ll find something to snack on later.” 

“You should eat,” Zane comments. “I can make something—”

“That’s nice.” Lloyd rises to his feet, a scowl flitting across his features as he pushes Zane toward the door. “But I’m a grown-up. I can feed myself.” 

“But I—”

Lloyd gives Zane a proper shove out into the hallway. 

“I appreciate it, buddy, really, but you can’t help this time.” 

———

Zane doesn’t believe that. 

He plays many roles within the team—medic, builder, analyst. He was built to protect and repair. And while he can’t traditionally repair Lloyd’s struggles, he figures he may be able to lighten them. He can take some of the weight off of Lloyd’s shoulders. 

Because Lloyd works—he works and he trains and he fights. Mostly because he loves doing it. He loves protecting Ninjago with every ounce of his bleeding, golden heart, even if he never says it. 

Deep down, though, Zane suspects it’s also because Lloyd doesn’t know how to do anything else. 

Zane figures he’s approximately 25% responsible for that. Less, if he takes Nya and Master Wu into account. More, if he considers the many times he’s recklessly thrown himself into battle, almost died protecting those he cares about, and never opened those vulnerable parts of himself for others to repair. 

Terrible examples that Zane knows Lloyd has internalized. 

Though, FSM forbid he ever point that out—Lloyd would have a fit.  

That leaves Zane the only option of supporting Lloyd through less direct means, which he remembers how to do with his favorite pastime. 

Cooking tethers Zane to his sense of self. It goes beyond a set of calculations that his superhuman brain can produce in seconds. He considers it an art and one of the few things that call for his opinion and not cold, hard facts—it’s something he knows he can always use to comfort his family.  

For Lloyd, Zane brings out a recipe of deep nostalgia and laughter. 

A noodle soup with a rich, golden broth flavored by an assortment of spices, ginger, lime, and cilantro. Traditionally made with beef or chicken, Zane has since changed the recipe to favor shrimp instead, as Lloyd proved to have a taste for it as a child. 

A few hours later, Zane sweeps into Lloyd’s room and sets the piping hot bowl of soup down on his desk. Lloyd looks up and immediately scowls. 

“Zane, I told you to leave me alone,” Lloyd snaps. “Can’t you see I’m busy?” 

Zane doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he scans the contents of Lloyd’s desk.  

“You are working on customized training programs for your students?” Zane asks. 

“Yes.” 

“You teach them because you care about them?”

“ Yes, ” Lloyd hisses. 

“If teaching is your way of expressing love, then cooking is mine,” Zane asserts, “and you are not the only one who is allowed to express their love here.” 

Lloyd looks gobsmacked that Zane would dare speak to him that way. He opens and closes his mouth like a fish out of water, spluttering for words that simply won’t come. Eventually, he scoffs, picks up a fork, and stabs at the food. 

Despite Lloyd’s agonizing display, Zane reckons that everything will turn out fine. He followed the recipe he wrote to the letter, the same as always. It’s never failed before; it shouldn’t now. 

Still, he finds himself watching with anticipation rushing to his head.

Lloyd shoves a forkful of noodles and shrimp into his mouth and chews—quickly first, then slowly, before he stops altogether. 

A shot of icy panic spears through Zane’s mind. Surely, he hadn’t made a mistake? Unless Lloyd had grown out of enjoying his food? Did Lloyd not like it—

A soft rumbling sound touches the air, familiar in every way. 

It takes Zane a moment to process what it is, but when he does, all of his doubt melts away. 

Purring. Lloyd is purring.

His pointed ears—from his supernatural heritage—flick once, ever so slightly. Then again, and again, until they flutter like the wings of a butterfly. Lloyd leans over the bowl, a content smile pulling at his lips as he swallows and dives for the next bite, slurping up noodles with reckless abandon. 

A cool sense of relief floods through Zane’s body at the sight. 

Ever since the Merge, Lloyd rarely seemed joyful. It was as though the years of loneliness had left him struggling to reconnect with even his closest friends and all the more desperate to assert his independence. Especially since his responsibilities had grown to include two—no, three, Zane recounts—kids and a busier monastery to maintain. 

To see Lloyd smile again soothed Zane more than words could explain. 

“Be sure to bring your bowl back to the kitchen once you’ve finished,” Zane says as he takes his leave. “I can serve up seconds for you too, if you wish.”

Lloyd suddenly spins around in his chair, eyes wide. 

“Uh, wait, Zane!”

Zane pauses in the doorway.

“Um… I know this might be a lot to ask…” Lloyd stumbles over his words, eyes darting away. “But… you know those spring rolls you make sometimes? The ones that have shrimp and pork and all that—” Lloyd makes a vague gesture with his hand. “ —green stuff you put in it. Could you…?”

“Of course,” Zane answers swiftly. “I’d be happy to make some for you.” 

Lloyd beams—soft and relaxed against the golden light of dusk pouring into the room. 

“Thanks, Zane,” Lloyd says. 

Zane merely smiles, happy to be of assistance. 

Anything at all to make his little brother smile again.

[humanitys-strongest-bamf]

"get me a damned matcha" | Chapter 23: April II

{{ Chapter 22: March II | Chapter 24: May II }} Chapter Directory

publishing early because i'm out from 8am-10:30pm tomorrow and i'm not ready for it :|

if you wanna get tagged for updates, fill out this form here!

✧ pairing ➼ levi ackerman x fem!reader, college x coffee shop x roommates!au ✧ summary ➼ After you find yourself plagued with misfortune due to struggles in your personal and family life, you find yourself needing to move last minute. As a junior in undergrad with little money and little social support, you considered yourself lucky when you found a sublease that was close to campus and was relatively cheap. Unfortunately, it seemed that your roommate did not seem to be so excited regarding your presence. ✧ content/warnings ➼ fluff, fem!reader, afab!reader, smut (minors go away) ✧ word count ➼ ~6k

“You’re going to be in the middle of nowhere just to write for two weeks?” Levi asked with a clear hint of skepticism in his voice.

You nodded as you continued packing.

“I think it’ll be a nice change of pace compared to how chaotic it can get on campus.”

Levi blinked at you a few times without saying anything, maintaining that skeptical expression with the way that his eyebrow was slightly raised. He knew there was more. As wonderful as the alone time might have sounded, the inconvenience of having to travel so far and be in an area with little to no services seemed too much to be explained by getting a “nice change of pace”.

You noticed his silence and looked back at him.

“It’s also paid,” you reluctantly admitted.

“Ah,” he muttered, suddenly understanding. Getting to do your graduation project while being paid to hang out at forest reserve did sound appealing. “Still, two weeks?”

“Actually a month,” you corrected with a shrug, “but I couldn’t afford to go for that long, so I went for the two-week option instead.”

“Hmm,” Levi mumbled without really responding.

Two weeks was a long time. The last time you left, it was only for a week and it had prompted that huge fight that resulted in you storming out of the apartment and crashing on your friend’s living room couch instead of coming home.

While he was still annoyed at himself for getting as attached as he was to you, he internally made a promise to himself to at least put some effort into not immediately regressing back into being a dick the minute you left for your trip.

“Wanna come with?”

“What?” Levi asked abruptly, having not expected the question while he was deep in thought. It wasn’t a request that even crossed his mind.

“You said Erwin’s out of town for the month, right?” you asked as you vaguely remembered Levi complaining about being locked out of lab for a few weeks and being unable to do any real work. “So you can’t even really go into lab?”

Levi was still blankly staring at you, struggling to process your sudden request.

“I can bring one guest,” you explained. “You wanna come?”

His instinct was to say no. Spending two weeks in the middle of nowhere was not something his mind would jump to when he thought of things he wanted to do to relax, although being away from people did sound nice. Plus, the idea of getting to be by you for those two weeks sounded much more pleasurable than staying at the apartment on his own when he couldn’t even do any work.

“Might be nice to be away from others for two weeks,” you said as a small smile appeared on your face. “Just you and me.”

Levi scoffed.

“And be trapped with your insufferable ass for two weeks?”

You pouted and chucked a rolled up pair of socks at him from your bag.

An ever-so-subtle smirk appeared on Levi’s lips as he caught your socks and threw them back at you.

“If I must,” he mumbled with a feigned sigh of annoyance, but that small smirk on his face betrayed him, making his desire to simply be around you more than obvious.

~~~~~

The cabin was cozy, but was by no means small. When you had imagined spending two weeks in a “remote camping resort” that was quite literally in the middle of nowhere, you imagined staying in a small log cabin that had no internet and was running on minimal electricity. Instead, you ended up staying in a fairly large cabin with multiple kitchenettes, bedrooms, and bathrooms. If you had the money, you’d pay to vacation here, so you were astonished that you were getting paid to stay here and write. Granted, you had to fill out a lengthy application regarding your ability to write, publish, and sell your light novel, but considering the fact that you needed it just to graduate, getting the application processed was a piece of cake. 

The fact that you were able to stay here, as well as being able to bring a guest along, was an opportunity that you were immensely glad to have taken. It was indeed refreshing when compared to being trapped on a crowded college campus filled with students that were either stressed, drunk, or both.

There were three other applicants that you were sharing the cabin with. Some of them brought friends or significant others as their guests, so it ended up being more like five people that you were sharing the same building with, but with how big the cabin itself was, it essentially felt like you had it to yourself.

“You said they’re paying you to do this?” Levi asked skeptically as he began methodically unpacking your duffle bag.

You had originally thrown your bag onto the queen-sized bed, which immediately made him scrunch his nose up in disgust that you were bringing something that had clearly touched the floor onto the bed where you were supposed to be sleeping. He immediately took it off and placed it onto the pouf in front of the bed to begin unpacking it.

“Under the condition that we finish whatever it is we’re supposed to be writing and submit it,” you explained as you looked out the window, which showed a serene scenery into the forest that immediately brought you a sense of tranquility. “Since I have to turn in a light novel for my capstone project, all the pieces just kinda came together.”

As expected for Levi, everything was the textbook definition of organized by the time he finished unpacking. You had stopped to help, but then he got grouchy over how you placed something a tad too haphazardly, so you just raised your hands and walked off, letting him do his own thing instead of fighting it. Your toiletries were neatly placed into the bath, with your bathing supplies standing next to each other on the shelves in the shower-bath unit. Your computers were placed on the desk near the window, with your jackets hanging off the back of the armchair in front of the desk.

Content after getting unpacked and settled in, you flopped backwards onto the bed, the memory foam mattress being a refreshing sensation compared to the spring mattresses back at home. 

“You think the landlord would be mad if we switched up the beds?”

“What’s wrong with the ones we have?” Levi asked with a frown.

“Just not as comfy,” you said with a shrug, rolling over onto your side as Levi sat down next to you, leaning his back against the headboard.

You looked up and saw the slightly unsettled look on his face as he adjusted to staying in a new environment for a few days. It was a welcome change, but one he’d have to adjust to nonetheless. No matter how you put it, staying in a cabin in the woods was vastly different from staying in an apartment on a college campus.

Realizing that the two of you found yourselves out in the woods again together made your cheeks heat up ever-so-slightly, but it was enough for Levi to immediately notice once he looked back down at you.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you mumbled, awkwardly looking away in embarrassment. “Just remembering…”

“Remembering what?” he asked with a skeptical expression.

“...that our first time was in the forest…”

You shuffled around uncomfortably, feeling a mix of embarrassment and nostalgia upon pulling up the memory.

“That was in a tent, though,” Levi noted as he scooted towards you before pulling you in flush against him.

You let out a small squeak of surprise as he pulled you in, looking up and seeing that he was affectionately looking back down at you.

“We can consider this an upgrade,” he whispered as he pulled you in, gently pressing his lips against yours.

The kiss took you by surprise at first, but it was quickly returned as you parted your lips more, grazing your teeth against his bottom lip. Your hand grabbed at the collar of his shirt as you pulled yourself over him, straddling him, never separating your lips from his. You moaned into the kiss as your hand traveled down from the collar of his shirt and down his chest towards his waist.

However, any chance of you getting to feel his cock in you immediately disappeared once you heard an obnoxious ringing tone from your phone. It was your alarm, and it was saying that it was time for you to leave to go to the orientation meeting in the main dining area.

Frustrated, you groaned and buried your face in Levi’s chest without moving from your suggestive position. Even if you skipped, the moment had already been ruined. You had no choice but to save Levi’s “upgrade” offer for later, although you weren’t sure when that would be, given the busy day you had ahead of you.

You sighed and rolled off him with a grumpy look on your face.

“I’ll be back in twenty, I guess,” you grumbled as you haphazardly put your shoes on and made your way out the door, fixing your hair and t-shirt on your way out, hoping that any of your fellow housemates wouldn’t put two and two together on what was happening behind your bedroom door.

~~~~~

It was at that point in the spring where it was both no longer cold and yet to be warm. It meant that it was the perfect weather for you to throw on a thin jacket and sit outside. Given the fact that you were at a remote resort, you were able to find peace in the outdoors, with just you and Levi. 

The two of you currently sat on the edge of the pier that looked out into the lake. The sun hadn’t gone down yet, so you still had lighting, but it was approaching evening. The orange and pink hue reflected off the water. If you had a knack for painting, this would be the perfect scenery to try to replicate. The colors of the sky blended together with the reflections in the water, almost making it difficult to differentiate between the horizon and the water itself.

Your legs were dangling above the water, hanging off the edge of the pier, with Levi sitting criss-crossed next to you. You had a notebook and were plotting out one of the last chapters of your novel, choosing to write by hand instead of bringing your laptop to avoid even the slightest chance of dropping your somewhat expensive computer into the water. Levi sat next to you, quietly gliding his pencil over his sketchbook—the same one that he had received as a gift at the white elephant exchange in December. 

You sat in comfortable silence next to him as you both focused on your tasks at hand. Once you saw how intensely he was looking into his sketchbook, you glanced over at what it was that he was trying to draw. 

It was the scenery in front of you: the water in the lake, the way the sun was setting in the sky, and the way the forest was separating the horizon and the water line off in the distance.

“I didn’t know you could draw,” you mused, looking closely at how the different elements of the sketch were elegantly coming together.

“Never had the time to,” Levi mumbled as he glanced up at the lake momentarily before looking back down at his sketch.

Although he was weirded out by the idea of coming here with you at first, he ultimately knew that it was a good thing for him as well as you. It gave him a chance to be away from lab and the cafe and mentally reset. While having a routine was great for him, it had certainly become mundane and he found himself entering a mental fog of doing the same thing every day. Coming out and being forced to adjust was something that he desperately needed.

He looked down at his sketch. He had fully expected it to be nothing but chicken scratch and was pleasantly surprised to see that it actually somewhat looked like the scene he was trying to replicate. The last time that he drew was when he was around eight years old, so it felt like a lifetime ago. This was effectively his first time actually drawing.

“Used to draw sketches for-”

Levi paused for a second as he stumbled over his words, indicating that he was bringing up a slightly sensitive topic.

“Used to draw sketches for my mother when she was sick,” he said quietly as he looked down at his pencil, although he was vaguely able to tell that you had tilted your head to indicate that you were listening.

“Haven’t really touched it since,” he finished.

He had picked up the hobby at a really young age and he really did enjoy it at the time. However, given the chaos that led up to and followed his mother’s death, he could never bring himself to do it again. It was always a ‘save it for later’ thing, and ‘later’ just never came until now.

Despite the painful memories that were brought up from him branching out into a hobby he had long buried, he did draw some sense of comfort from it. He had coped with his grief through avoidance and bitterness as he grew up and it wasn’t until he was in his late-teens that he got a chance to properly process. Even after he fully processed, he still found himself salty without getting any real closure. Helping you come to terms with your own grief was slowly moving him in that direction. Things like celebrating his birthday or visiting his mother’s grave were still painful, but it was at least more bearable compared to before.

“Wanna draw cover art for my book?” you asked with a completely serious expression.

Levi snorted at you, finally looking up.

“If you want shitty 8-year-old-level drawings.”

“I think I’ll take my chances,” you said with a nonchalant shrug, glancing down at Levi’s sketch.

The only thought that crossed your mind was that he must have been a stupidly talented eight-year-old. The sketch already looked better than anything you would have been able to produce. This didn’t really come as a surprise to you, but part of you definitely hated how quick Levi was at picking things up, even if this was something that he used to do as a child.

You were joking about him drawing cover art for your book, but given how his initial sketch was already looking, you began seriously considering it, despite the fact that him having a knack for the art right off the bat irritated you beyond belief. 

~~~~~

Being out in the middle of nowhere at least made the insomnia more bearable.

Levi was able to get a view out the window that wasn’t just the parking lot in front of your apartment building. Instead, he was able to look out into the woods, the terrain being lit up by the full moon shining above you. The stars were more than visible, given how far away from the main city you were.

The fact that the scenery would have been pitch black if it weren’t for the moon made the view seem that much more serene. Levi took a deep breath as he sipped on some tea that he had made himself earlier once he knew that it was going to be one of those nights in which it was pointless to try to get any sleep.

You must have felt the same way. Levi glanced over towards the bed as soon as he heard you shuffling around. The corner of his lips slightly pulled up as he observed how you had the blanket bunched up as you wrapped your arms around it, while burying your face into the pillow. It was so strange to him that the person he was looking at now was the same annoying brat that came barging into his life nearly two years ago.

He sighed, going to rinse out his cup in the bathroom sink, not wanting to go back out into the kitchen area this late into the night. After placing the cup upside down to dry on a laid out hand towel, he went to change into a tank top and sweatpants to attempt to sleep. Even if he couldn’t sleep, at least he could rely on you to curl up next to him (and occasionally even on him) for snuggles.

After he crawled under the blanket, Levi gently wrapped his arm around your waist, nudging you towards him. He saw you shifting around to adjust for his presence.

“Still up?”

“Mhm,” you mumbled, scooting backwards so you could feel him on you. “Sometimes if I just lie still and shut my eyes, I can trick my body into thinking I’m asleep and then I’ll actually fall asleep.”

Levi responded with a scoff, clearly skeptical. 

“That’s bullshit.”

“Sometimes it works,” you grumbled with a pout, your bottom lip slightly poking out.

“Yeah?” he asked with a raised eyebrow even though your eyes were still closed. “Like when?”

You remained silent for a few seconds as you tried to come up with a clever answer.

“Not the point,” you eventually responded, admitting defeat.

Levi rolled his eyes, but pulled you closer against him so that he could bury his face in the crook of your neck.

Although he only intended to focus on the smell of your fruity shampoo that still lingered in your hair, he quickly noticed just how close you were to him, with your ass fully pressed up against his dick. He couldn’t tell if you were doing so on purpose or not, but it didn’t stop that tight feeling in his pants from forming. Levi let out a quiet sigh of frustration as he felt his boner growing. Given your close proximity, he was sure that you’d be able to feel it too.

“What?” you asked in a slightly mocking tone.

He couldn’t see with your back pressed up against him, but the mischievous smirk on your face gave away your intention of rubbing your ass on his dick to get him worked up.

“You know what you’re doing, you little shit,” he scolded, scowling at you.

“Aren’t we just cuddling?” you asked innocently.

Levi let out an exasperated sigh as he tightened his grip around you, with a quiet growl emanating from his throat as one hand traveled up to gently grip at your neck, while the other began traveling down to your waistline.

“What was that comment about this being an upgrade earlier?” he whispered directly into your ear, making it so that you were already feeling your body heating up.

His lips brushed up against your earlobe as he spoke before traveling down to your neck, planting gentle, but chilling kisses against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. 

You were already acutely aware of his growing erection, but you could now blatantly feel his hardening cock pressing up against your ass, prompting you to press yourself against him harder, letting out a small moan as you felt his fingers reach underneath your panties to gain access to your clit.

As soon as he began moving his fingers in circles around the small bundle of nerves, you gripped at his hand, with you now being the one that was groaning in frustration as you felt your arousal begin to leak out onto your panties. 

Feeling more than a little horny, you quickly turned around, pushing him onto his back as you crawled onto him and straddled him, roughly pressing your lips against his. Your hands were tightly gripping at his shoulders as you began grinding your crotch against his, getting increasingly frustrated with the cloth that was separating his cock from your cunt. 

Your tongue prodded against his lips, which slightly parted to grant you entrance, and you heard his breathing hasten as he reached down to pull his sweatpants down, allowing his cock to finally pop up directly under you. 

You immediately pulled your lips away from his, a string of spit connecting your lips to his as you impatiently reached down to move your panties to the side, which were already long soaked with your slick. You groaned as you felt the tip of his cock rubbing up against your folds, and essentially felt your pussy throbbing and begging for more.

A small whine escaped your lips as you reached your fingers down to line up his cock with your entrance so he could go in, your face flushed and eyes clouded over with lust.

However, before you could engulf his cock with your pussy, he shoo’d your hand away.

“Never were any good at being patient, were you?” he mumbled in an amused tone as he saw the frustrated look on your face. “Relax. ”

He put his hands around your face and pulled you into a kiss that started off gentle, but quickly grew heated as he firmly placed his hands on your waist, flipping you over so that he was looming over you.

You placed your hands around the sides of his neck, pulling yourself up to keep your lips connected with his, letting out a small moan as you felt his tongue find its way into your mouth, asserting its dominance over yours, further soaking your panties with your slick. Your hands then traveled down to his waistline and you reached underneath his tank top, running your hands over his abs up to his chest as you took off his tank top and threw it across the room to the side.

Once he finally pulled away, you were able to see that the full moon shining into the room made the normally gray hue of his eyes more like silver, mesmerizing you with his gaze, which was further exacerbated by the fact that you were always weak for the way that he looked at you.

Levi gently placed his hand on your shoulder and pushed you down back onto the bed so that you were laying down fully, with his other hand lifting the hem of your tank top. You slightly arched your back and held your arms up as he removed your tank top, your nipples quickly hardening from their sudden contact with the cold air.

His hand gently massaged one of your breasts, with your breath getting caught in your throat as he pinched your hardened nipple between his fingers. His other hand ghosted over your stomach as it traveled down towards your hips, and his index finger looped around the hem of your panties, gently pulling them down and off you. 

Both of his hands squeezed your ass as he moved back up to you, slightly lifting your hips as he lined up his leaking cock with your slit.

A quiet groan emanated from his throat as he slowly pushed his throbbing cock into your dripping cunt, his eyes rolling into the back of his head from the sensation.

“...Fuck, you’re perfect,” he muttered underneath his breath, having to pause for a split second to gather himself. 

Once he opened his eyes again, he leaned down, pulling you into another deep kiss as he began to rock his hips against yours, his cock getting completely coated with your slick as he moved in and out of you. His lips traveled from your lips down to your neck, drawing a quiet whine out of you when he began gently grazing his teeth against the sensitive flesh.

One of his hands tightly gripped at your hips, with the other traveling to your throbbing clit. Your entire body jerked as you felt him press down on the small bundle of nerves, tracing agonizingly slow circles around it as he pumped in and out of you at a steady pace.

His pacing was driving you nuts, with your whining getting louder with each following thrust, which only resulted in Levi sinking his teeth into the flesh of your neck, biting you as a warning to quiet down.

You bit down on your lip to try to muffle your moans as your hands clawed at his back, needing to hold onto something as you felt the heat build up in your lower belly. Your legs were shaking around him as he continued to plunge his cock repeatedly into your dripping cunt, causing you to arch your back off the bed, pressing your chest flush against his, your hand immediately going to cover your mouth to quiet yourself down as you felt your entire body clench up from your orgasm hitting you like a freight train. 

For those few seconds, all of your senses seemed to turn off, with the world becoming a blur around you, with the only point of focus being how Levi felt on you as he held you down and fucked you through your orgasm, his pacing of his thrusts and tracing patterns on your clit never changing, repeatedly causing your breath to get caught in your throat.

By the time you zoned back in, Levi had his face buried into your neck, with subtle whimpers escaping from his throat. His pacing began to ever-so-subtly pick up as his thrusts became sloppier and harder. One of his hands gripped at your shoulders and you heard him curse underneath his breath, sinking his teeth into your shoulder as a way to muffle his own moans as he filled you with his cum, thrusting into you slowly a few more times until your pussy milked him dry. 

He held himself above you for a while, panting as he mustered up the resolve to pull himself out of you, his cock more than sensitive after the intensity of his orgasm. Levi let out another small whimper as his breath got caught in his throat as he finally pulled out and rolled over to lay next to you, immediately pulling you in for a kiss afterwards.

“Well, this will definitely help me sleep,” you mumbled as you rested your head against his chest.

He planted a kiss on the top of your head, his arm wrapped around you as he traced his thumb back and forth on your shoulder.

You took comfort in the motion, which only added to the sense of warmth resonating through you from both feeling him around you and the post-sex euphoria. Less than five minutes passed before your breathing slowly began to change, with you taking in deeper, but slower breaths as you finally began to fall asleep.

Levi immediately noticed this and gently shook you to wake you back up.

“Let’s get you cleaned up first.”

It took you a second to respond, having been pulled out of your very brief slumber.

“...whose fault is that?” you mumbled with your eyes still closed.

You could practically feel him frowning at you—or glaring, you could easily imagine both. What you couldn’t predict was the slight tint of pink on his cheeks. He technically was the one that initiated it, although it could be argued that that was your intention all along. Levi brought attention to this.

“You’re the one that stuck your ass on my dick,” he grumbled.

“You’re the one that pulled my ass in,” you retorted.

A cheeky grin appeared on your face as you heard him tut in discontent.

“You’re so annoying,” he said with a sigh before he drew his arm back and got up from under you, which immediately prompted a pout to appear on your face as you quietly whined at the sudden lack of warmth.

By the time you got yourself to actually open your eyes to see what he was fumbling around for, you saw that he was grabbing fresh sets of towels and was likely planning on dragging you into the bathroom to get you to shower.

You watched as he prepped the bathroom, warming up the water in the bathtub. He was meticulous about setting up the bath, making sure the water was at the perfect temperature and that the bathtub was filled to just the right amount. It was unclear if he was planning on sitting in the tub with you, but you wouldn’t have minded either way.

You couldn’t deny that you were surprised at first that he was willing to just drop everything and spend two weeks with you in the middle of nowhere at some camping resort for you to technically do nothing other than write your light novel. You had fully prepared yourself to be on your own for these two weeks and then come home to a grumpy Levi—that was generally how he tended to react whenever you were gone. However, you certainly didn’t mind that he decided to end up tagging along. It made spending time at the resort less lonely, and although your concentration wasn’t entirely there since you were hanging out around him, it made the whole thing much more enjoyable, and that was enough for you.

~~~~~

The fire provided some warmth, but it was a small bonfire, so you ended up still feeling the chilliness of the air around you now that the sun was starting to go down. The approaching darkness made the gentle, dancing orange flames seem that much brighter. It occasionally hurt to look at when it was freshly rekindled, but was a pretty sight once the fire settled down.

You, Levi, and the rest of the people at the resort had decided to spend your last night having a bonfire while making some smores and generally chatting about the experience. Most said that being around nature helped them focus, appreciating the time away from the hustle of modern society. You were all sitting by the bonfire, which was close to the resort, but isolated enough that it gave you a new environment to be in.

After about 30-45 minutes of chatting, people began heading back inside, preferring the warmth of the large cabin to the dark outdoors that was growing more chilly with every passing minute. After lingering behind a little, you began to get up as well.

Levi had his hand on your thigh, and he squeezed a bit as he felt you begin to get up, indicating that he wanted you to stay seated. You looked over at him.

“Stay with me for a bit.”

A small blush crept onto your cheeks as you shuffled in your seat again, moving closer to him.

“Thought I was annoying,” you mused with a raised eyebrow. 

“You are,” he said with a shrug, the corner of his lips subtly raising into a small smile.

“Well,” you said with a huff of feigned frustration, “if I’m annoying, then you’re insufferable.”

A cocky grin appeared on your face as you saw Levi roll his eyes before sighing. The banter that had formerly caused you so much grief was now something you appreciated and occasionally needed to be around. It was a staple of your relationship with him and you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

You watched the flames reflect off his silver eyes for a while, mesmerized by them as you usually were. Eventually, you noticed some of the leftover s’mores materials on the picnic table behind him that some of the others conveniently forgot to take back to the cabin. You stood up and approached it, grabbing one of the skewers.

“Want one?” you asked, looking over your shoulder back towards Levi.

“And have all that sugar right before bed?” he responded skeptically. “Fuck no.”

You snorted at his comment as you stabbed the marshmallow.

“Whatever you say, buzzkill,” you mumbled as you held the marshmallow over the fire, turning it until it completely caught on fire so the outside would char. The thought of the flakey texture of the outside and the chewy texture on the inside was already enough to get your mouth watering.

However, the world seemed like it didn’t want you to enjoy your marshmallow because as soon as you lifted the skewer, the marshmallow immediately decided it had been charred for too long and slid off the skewer, falling directly into the fire.

You stood over the fire, holding the now empty skewer without moving, desperately trying to hide the disappointment from appearing on your face. You could already imagine the smug and subtly amused look in Levi’s eyes and didn’t want to turn around to face him.

You sighed as you heard him step up next to you, taking the skewer from your hand.

“Can’t even toast a god damn marshmallow?” he asked in an amused tone as he stabbed into another fresh marshmallow.

You stuck your tongue out at him before grumbling something underneath your breath about it apparently being harder than it looks.

“Keep that up and I’ll eat it myself instead of making this stupid sugar sandwich for you,” he scolded, frowning at you, although his tone indicated his lack of true irritation at your antics.

“Thought you didn’t want all that sugar before bed?”

You called him out on his empty threat by referring to his previous comment, which only resulted in a barely audible grunt from him.

Sitting down on the bench that you had previously occupied before you got fixated, you watched as he meticulously broke apart both the chocolate and the cracker in half after what seemed like perfectly charring the marshmallow that was making your mouth water the more that you were staring at it. He put together the sandwich and then handed it over to you. 

Your assumption that he had charred the marshmallow perfectly was correct, which further pissed you off regarding Levi’s apparent ability to do everything perfectly. You knew that wasn’t necessarily true—with the primary example being his inability to grasp modern technology—but it certainly felt like it when he cooked it to the perfect texture immediately after yours tragically dropped into the bonfire. You smiled as you bit into it, with the texture of the melted marshmallow’s insides being silky smooth mixed in with the slight crackle of the burnt outer shell. That, plus the crunch of the cracker and sturdiness of the chocolate, made any potential worries nowhere to be found as you momentarily indulged in the sugary snack. You were enjoying it so much that you weren’t aware that the melted chocolate was leaving its mark on your lips.

“Tch,” Levi tutted as he sat down next to you. “How filthy can you get?”

He sighed as he brought his hand up to your cheek, using his thumb to rub off the chocolate on your lips. 

Even after the chocolate was gone, his thumb hovered over your lips and you became increasingly aware of the skin-to-skin contact. His gaze slowly lowered from your eyes, down to your lips, and then back up to your eyes, the creases underneath his eyes becoming more faint as his gaze softened. The flickering of the flames reflecting off his eyes died down as the fire dimmed, but that didn’t make his eyes and gaze seem any less mesmerizing. 

His hand that was gently cupping your cheek became slightly more firm as he pulled you towards him, gently planting his lips on you, moving them against yours in a gentle kiss, the darkness protecting you from any prying eyes.

“You went from calling me filthy to kissing me,” you whispered after he pulled back slightly, although your lips were still brushing up against each other. “I’m confused.”

“Shut up before I change my mind,” he grumbled, pulling you back into another kiss before you could think of a clever response, tasting the sweetness of the smores lingering on your lips—maybe a sugary snack before bed wasn’t so bad after all.

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