#and how those messages seep through sometimes anyway

[pinksilvace]

listen. LISTEN. The original Cats poems have SUCH an interesting historical context because on one hand it's "haha funny cat poem" and on the other it's "these were written by a royalist fascist that was every kind of bigoted imaginable" and being able to read them through both lenses is an EXCELLENT practice in media analysis, like

Me: Awww, Jennyanydots is a motherly figure to the mice and cockroaches, who are like misbehaving little boys and girls :) how sweet :)

Also Me: The "cockroaches" just need employment, you say? To prevent them from idle and wanton destroyment, you say?

[lovelykil]

killua hcs for reader who is really sleepy and likes cuddling all the time (kinda like a koala lmao) like on days with no work/school they sleep for like 18 hours (yes it’s possible)

headcanons—

: ➛killua

hc; sleepy reader

note; literally me

Imagine it's a wonderful day outside, the sun has made its arrival, the grass is greener than usual, nature's lovely scent still in the air as birds soar through the blue skyline.

everyone has gotten up for the day and up to do their daily activities while YOU remain in those messy sheets. Your leg dangling off the bed, a hand on the other side, your hair all over your pillow and drool seeping out through your open mouth.

or If you aren't a messy sleeper,, your sheets hugging your fatigued body as you sleep on your side or back with your bed hair on the pillow case.

your phone has been buzzing, someone is trying to contact you but you're too inlove with slumber to respond.

but once you finally awake from your rest it's about 4 in the afternoon.. though this was usual so you didn't care but once you checked your phone...

10 missed calls from 'shithead :3' (killua)

and TONS of text messages from him aswell.

you go to finally call him back after a brief moment to collect your sleepy self.

"hey sorry I was asleep—"

"YOU IDIOT I THOUGHT YOU DIED"

he gets so concerned about how long you can stay asleep... like are okay?? lmao???

one time he actually came over to check if you were ALIVE, thank God he has a spare key 😭🙏🏾

kil doesn't really need to sleep so he's usually up and wake WAYY before you

he picks at your face, pokes your cheek, nose really just plays with your unconscious self till he gets a reaction but he usually doesn't since you are one heavy ass sleeper

he does get lonely ngl so he tries to fall back asleep or calls Gon over to do something

anywayy

most times you find yourself weary around him.. you don't know why just his presence makes you feel safe and calm so you usually crash on him, either laying your head on his shoulder or just laying your head on his lap with the blanket covering you on the couch.

sometimes you don't even do it on purpose it just happens so naturally you crash somewhere on his body and stay there for awhile.

like once you unconsciously crawled on his lap to rest, it only took a few seconds before you passed out. He's so tense every time too 😭

but he sighs, and holds you close anyway. he lowers the volume down on the TV so not to disturb you and watches the show with his arms around you.

"you comfortable?" He mumbles, wanting to come off annoyed but secretly he was enjoying this.

you muttered something that sounded like a 'yeah' even nodding your head slightly, his annoyed eyes focus back on the TV from there the hunter smiles delicately.

sometimes you'll wake up in your bed with him facing the other way in the middle of the night. He most likely carried your fatigued body to bed, it's the only logical explanation you could come up with at the moment.

not like it matters anyway, he was there and he was warmmm. You inch closer, hands reaching, and soon you hold him from behind softly though. Killua is obviously aware you have captured him and his face burns but he doesn't say anything.

you plant tired kisses to the back of his neck which had his heart RACIN

but soon you close your eyes yet again , whispering..

"...night kil.."

his response was delayed but he delivered it nonetheless, flustered-ly like.

"..night." He hovers his hand over yours which was on his waist and he keeps it there for the night.

here's a silly one

killua DEFINITELY at some point has drawn on your face while you have been asleep

he was bored and you were in his sight 😈

prob has drawn a penis.. maybe a cat or two..

but most importantly has a drawn a mustache.

he's such an ass but it's okay cs it's killua 🎀❤️

[raccoon-eyed-rebel]

Under Orders - Part 1

Masterlist

Part 1 🔹Part 2🔹Part 3🔹Part 4🔹Part 5

Pairing: softDom!August x reader (Described Marshall x reader)

Summary: August comes home after a business trip, only to find out his princess is under some highly inconvenient orders...

Word count: 5.3k

Warnings: NSFW, SMUT, 18+, MINORS DNI, BDSM, D/s dynamic (technically D/s/D), praise kink, bondage, oral (m receiving), (first time) anal sex (toys, fingering, p-in-a) (f receiving) (unprotected), slight hurt/comfort, use of pet names/titles (Daddy, Sir, princess, kitten, sweetheart and darling), established relationship, extra light dacryphilia, extra extra light spanking. Also check-ins and aftercare... And as pointed out by a helpful Anon; degradation/name-calling (slut/whore (affectionate))

A/N: Inspired by this little treasure.

I was initially planning on keeping this a oneshot, but if anyone's up for a part 2 of this, be sure to let me know! (Am I publicly begging for reblogs and comments now? You bet your ass I am!) We're doing a little soft!August because anal is serious business and I'm a masochist as much as the next person, but... lube and patience, please.

@geralts-yenn @deandoesthingstome @keanureevesisbae @fvckinghenrycavill (I know you didn't ask to be tagged but I thought you might be interested 🙊 *nervous laughter*)

Anyway: loads of smut under the cut

You check your phone for the time as you wait in the hallway – on your knees, the way you know he expects to find you when he comes home. Sometimes, you pretend to forget, because you know it riles him up, but today you already have some bad news for him, so you’re not taking any chances. The door opens shortly after you put your phone down. Hands on knees, eyes down.

“Welcome home, Daddy,” you say softly. Daddy, he earned the name in the heat of the moment, when it just slipped out of you when he was… you don’t even remember what exactly he was doing, but you know it hurt, and that you probably deserved it. The title stuck – it goes nicely with the nicknames he uses for you and the way he takes care of you, protects you... August raises an eyebrow when he hears your greeting.

“What’s the matter, kitten?” His voice is restrained, as if he knows what’s going on. He probably has a very decent hunch: he always does. It’s what he gets paid to do at work.

“Sir has given me orders, Daddy, and he left a message for you on the kitchen table.” Your voice is even weaker now, and you’re squirming. It doesn’t escape August’s attention that you’re uncomfortable.

“Stay here, darling,” he orders. It sounds sweet, but it definitely isn’t up for negotiation. You won’t make that mistake again.

August makes his way to the kitchen, frustration seeping through in the way he walks. There’s a box on the table, which contains a butt plug – or rather: contained, seeing as the box is empty. It doesn’t take August three guesses to know where he left it. He swears under his breath as he paces back to the hallway and looks down on you.

“What were his orders, kitten?” he asks. “And look at me when I speak to you.”

“I…” You turn your eyes away from him again, but he grabs your chin and pulls it up.

“Speak up, sweetheart,” he says softly. He isn’t mad. Not yet, anyway.

“Sir said I’m not allowed to touch myself until the next time I see him,” you say. Your voice is more stern now that he’s ordered you to speak up, but that doesn’t mean it’s any easier to say it.

“Are you sure those were his words, kitten?” His voice is incredibly sweet, and he emphasizes his words in such a way that you immediately realize he wants to hear the exact words, so you shake your head in reply to his question. “Don’t lie to Daddy, sweetheart.” Shit, that’s definitely strike one. You can’t always accurately predict how many of those you get before you’re in serious trouble, but it’s usually three. He seems to be in a sour mood, so it’s probably more likely to be two.

“Sir said I’m not allowed to touch my pussy until I see him again,” you correct yourself, voice louder than you anticipated you’d manage.

“Did he, now?” You know that tone – so does the rest of your body. Unconsciously, your walls clench around nothing, reminding you of the past afternoon. It makes you squirm again, but you’re under orders, and therefore can’t do anything about it.

“Sir also gave me something special to wear for you,” you whisper, “that I had to show you…”

“Go to the bedroom and get ready for me, then, kitten,” August says. There is a hint of curiosity in his eyes, but another edge to his look that tells you he has a very good idea of what he can expect.

As you go upstairs, August goes into the kitchen and fixes himself a drink. He doesn’t usually regret his idea to share you with his old college roommate – in fact, he usually loves finding ways to play with you while sticking to the rules that you’ve been given and putting you under orders is definitely more fun when he knows his friend will have to get creative, too – but today is different. August quickly dials a number and holds his phone up to his ear.

“Walker,” the voice on the other side of the line says. August can picture the man grinning ear to ear, knowing why he’s calling. “I was expecting your call.”

“Yeah,” August says gruffly, “care to rethink your policy, Marshall?”

“No chance in hell, Walker, have fun.” And with those words, the bastard just hangs up on him. Walter Marshall knows all too well that August’s favorite pastime when coming home from a work trip, is to watch his pretty girl – their pretty girl – play with herself, and now that isn’t happening, thanks to him. August doesn’t doubt that Walter is very pleased with himself, and it makes him livid.

In the beginning of this agreement , the guys would allow it to turn into a bit of a pissing contest between them, trying desperately to frustrate the other as much as possible. You had put an end to that pretty quickly, saying you were more than happy to be their little toy, but you weren’t going to accept that at the expense of every last bit of your own pleasure. They’d both had to admit they had each been going out of their way to make each other’s lives miserable, when they had put the arrangement in place to both enjoy you – and you them. What’s happening now isn’t technically against the rules the three of you put in place, but it’s a frustratingly clever way around it. That being said, they’re still allowed to pester each other from time to time, even at your expense, but never in terms of what can’t be done to you. They’re in charge of you, not each other.

August finds you kneeling in front of the bed wearing nothing – unless you count the intricate collection of rope and knots that run over your body as ‘wearing something’. He takes a moment to admire Marshall’s handiwork before walking over to you.

“Hello my darling,” he says as he gently traces his fingers up your back, “you’re very pretty like this.” His words make your cheeks glow, and you unconsciously clench your thighs. It’s almost enough to make you forget the pain you feel in the few places where the rope scrapes your skin uncomfortably.

“Do you like it, sweetheart?” he asks, still caressing your back, slowly moving to your sides. You squirm as he touches you. There is a hint of concern to his voice. He isn’t here to spank you senseless or fuck you until you can’t walk – not that he won’t, but it isn’t his primary concern. He’s here to look after you, to take care of you when you need him to, and right now, he’s worried you look a little too uncomfortable.

“Yes, Daddy,” you say softly. You’re now moaning as you speak, not from pleasure or even pleasure through pain, but purely out of discomfort.

“Darling, are you hurt?” He already expected you to shake your head the way you do. He knows you well enough to realize you can be stubborn – too stubborn for your own good, mostly. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s had to intervene because you were putting your safety on the line, just because you didn’t want to admit something hurt.

“Sweetheart, what did Sir tell you about these?” August lightly traces the ropes on your body. “And don’t lie to me, now.”

“Sir said to take them off if they became uncomfortable,” you say barely audibly.

“And why did you not listen to him?”

“I wanted to show you, Daddy,” you reply, “and everything went fine, but then you said you were going to be home a bit later, and… I didn’t want to give up.” It’s the truth – he knows it is – but that doesn't make it any better. You should have known better than to put your safety – or at least your comfort – at risk like this, especially while you were home by yourself. Your bottom lip trembles.

“I’ll let him know you went against his orders,” August says. His voice is calm yet stern, and he begins to untie you, pausing for a moment when he sees the mess you’ve made of the rope that was tied between your legs. His words are a promise that he isn’t going to deal with your disobedience tonight – he’ll leave that to Marshall. After all, it was his order you disobeyed. You’re not quite sure if that’s the better option. The easing of the rope against your skin feels good, but it also makes you more aware of just how uncomfortable you have been the past half hour. It takes him a few minutes to take the entire thing apart.

When he’s done, he gently massages your sore muscles and skin, while looking for marks, bruises, abrasions, any kind of serious damage to your skin – he’s glad he doesn’t find any, just some superficial signs of chafing. You whine and groan as his hands move over your body – half of your cries being from the relief his touch brings, the other half in pain. August slowly works his way down your back until he arrives at your ass. You can hear the chuckle that escapes him when he sees you. His hunch from earlier was right; the plug that wasn’t in its box on the kitchen table is currently serving its intended purpose. It’s something he’s considered before, but he has never actually taken any steps to make it happen. Apparently, Marshall was less patient than him– not that August hadn’t always known that.

“And how does this feel, princess?” August gently taps the base of the plug to let you know what he means – not that you weren’t able to guess. You gasp when he does it – finally a sound that’s filled with nothing but genuine pleasure – and wiggle your ass in response, knowing very well that that won’t suffice. August’s hand lands on your behind lightly, but it’s enough to send shivers down your spine. Your core has been on fire ever since Walter tied you up, and feeling August’s hands on your skin isn’t making it any better.

“Use your words, kitten,” he says as he spanks the other side of your ass. The noise you make is almost a chuckle, which makes August smile.

“It feels good, Daddy,” you say shyly. You’d been a little nervous when Marshall mentioned trying anal play earlier this week. It was always a soft limit for you, and you trust him, so you’d agreed. Now, barely five days later, that plug is your new favorite toy, and you whine when August slowly pulls it out.

“Has Sir done anything else to your perfect little ass, sweetheart?” August asks as he runs his fingers through your soaked folds. The rules said nothing about him not being allowed to touch your pussy, and he’s planning on putting this natural lubricant to good use. You whine as he pushes two fingers into you without a problem, slicking them up with your arousal. Thanks to the preparation with the plug, he slips one finger into your ass with ease, and you moan as he starts moving it in and out of your tight hole. He doesn’t need an answer, per se, your reaction is more than enough to tell him that nothing has happened beyond what he’s doing to you now, but he demands one from you regardless.

“No, Daddy,” you say timidly, a tinge of excitement in your voice as you realize what that probably means for the rest of your night. August chuckles. Marshall may have taken his favorite show from him, but he left him a potentially very lovely night of firsts. It’s more than a fair trade, honestly. You moan when August withdraws his finger, looking over your shoulder questioningly. You’re almost pouting, but you remind yourself just in time that August doesn’t like it when you do that. Good girls don’t pout when they want something, they ask - nicely.

“What is it, kitten?” It’s both a question and a warning, and you exhale sharply in relief that you didn’t give him the desperate look you were initially planning to.

“Please don’t stop,” you say softly. Your voice trembles lightly, mostly with excitement, but partially with nerves. The bad mood he was in previously seems to have turned around nicely, but that doesn’t always mean he’ll heed your requests, although he did seem rather excited about the little anal experiment Marshall started earlier today.

“Get on the bed,” he orders as he takes his shirt off. You do as he tells you and wait patiently, not expecting him to join you, lying down, moving you so you’re on your knees next to him. One of his hands reaches for your chin and pulls you closer to him.

“Can I get a kiss, princess?” You know better than to refuse him – not that you would ever want to – so you lean forward until your lips touch his. You don’t expect him to pull you against him completely, but it’s a nice surprise. For a delicious moment, you snuggle into his side, relishing the feeling of his lips against yours, tongues sliding past one another and his teeth grazing at your lips. You moan each time he gently bites down on your bottom lip. He pulls you a bit further on top of him, your legs now on either side of one of his thighs, and gently strokes your skin along the path that was recently occupied by the ropes. The kiss is amazing, especially since you’ve had to miss him for a whole week and when you shift slightly and his thigh provides a bit of that exquisite friction against your clit, you can’t resist the temptation. Your hips grind against his leg longingly and for a moment, you forget everything except you and August – only to be reminded by two sharp smacks on your ass that, unfortunately, reality is a thing, and in this reality you’ve been told not to do what you started doing.

“You’re smart enough to know that counts as touching, kitten.” August laughs as he says it while his fingers dig into your hips, holding them firmly in place so you can’t move them anymore. You whisper an apology before you curl up against his chest. You’ve missed being in his arms, although it was nice to have Marshall around for five days. A part of you hopes the three of you will spend a night together again soon, but you haven’t had the courage to ask either one of them if they’d be up for that.

“I’ve missed you too,” August suddenly murmurs into your hair as he pulls you even closer. When you turn your face up to him, he kisses you again. It’s warm, soft, and wet and incredibly impatient, filled with love as well as lust. When he breaks away from you, you press a few sloppy kisses to his neck. It’s a very weak protest, you’re well aware of that, but you’re sad he stopped kissing you and you have to do something to prevent yourself from acting out in ways that will get you punished.

“Now be a good girl for me and suck my cock, darling.” In another world you might have wanted him to beg for it, but in this universe, his order is enough to turn you on even more than anything that’s happened before now, and you don’t hesitate to undo his belt and trousers. He stops you when you try to move towards the foot of the bed. “Stay here so Daddy can play with you.”

You writhe in anticipation when he says those words as you free his cock from its confinement, fingers wrapping his girth, barely closing around it completely. The rope, your naked body, the swift encounter with your dripping wet cunt, the kiss, and the thought of all the things he wants to do to your tight little ass have left him hard. A hum escapes from between August’s slightly parted lips when your tongue darts out to slowly circle the head of his cock. The sound turns into a loud moan when you waste very little time wrapping your lips around him.

Usually, you like to exploit the fact that this is the only way you get to tease him a bit with no – alright, barely any – repercussions, but it’s been too long since you’ve felt his cock in your mouth and you need him too much. You moan and throw your hips back when you feel one of his fingers push into your ass again. It doesn’t go in as easily as the last time, but it doesn’t hurt. Still, August feels the increased amount of friction and reaches into the nightstand for the lube he keeps there. It’s cold against your skin, but that feeling fades as he works it into you, slowly pumping his finger until it’s completely inside of you. He surprises you when he suddenly sinks his teeth into your flesh before kissing the skin he just hurt.

“Good girl,” he praises you, “you’re doing very well.” Your cheeks are burning, and the words send jolts of electricity straight to your already dripping core. Your heart swells with pride whenever he talks to you like that, and you love earning his praise. There is absolutely nothing you love more than being ‘Daddy’s dirty little slut’. You moan around his cock as you focus on taking him in as deep as possible. In this position, you can take him all the way down, but you’re afraid to as long as he’s playing with your ass like this. It doesn’t look like he’s going to stop; after a short amount of time, you feel the tip of a second finger press against your hole, slowly inching its way inside of you.

“You have to promise you’ll tell me if I hurt you, princess,” August says as he uses his free hand to softly stroke your back, “can you do that for me?” You regret that you have to answer him, but you know he’s not going to take some ‘hmm-hmm’-noise that sounds vaguely like agreement as an answer – which just so happens to be exactly what makes you trust him enough to stick his fingers up your ass, to put it bluntly.

“Yes, Daddy,” you reply after you finally manage to pull your mouth off his cock. Your answer is sincere; you know you are stubborn as a mule at times, but by now you’ve learned that August being this gentle means something will go seriously wrong if he’s rough. You trust that judgment – and you’re fairly sure Marshall will get his ass handed to him about leaving you alone to make that call about the shibari harness.

Normally, August’s moans are all you have to get off on when you suck him – and you do get off on them – but now that they’re paired with the feeling of him fingering your ass, you think you might just go completely insane. It’s very hard to keep a steady rhythm with your mouth while you frantically throw your hips back against the movements of August’s fingers, especially when you feel him add a third finger. This is where you expected it to start being painful, but it isn’t. That being said, there’s definitely more friction, and you decide it’s a better idea to stay ahead of any pain than to ring the alarm when you’re already hurting.

“Can you use some more lube?” The sharp pain of a firm smack on your ass startles you. You could have expected August to tell you off for speaking with a full mouth, and making you repeat your question, but you aren’t really in a position where thinking straight is a top priority. He seems more than happy to answer to your request. You’re guessing he’s more than excited you’re having so much fun with this new little experiment. You make a last-ditch effort to continue what you can safely call the sloppiest blowjob of your life, but you definitely can’t keep a level head anymore now that August is fucking your ass with three fingers. When a fourth gently seeks entrance you shriek, expecting pain, but it doesn’t come at all.

August can be a very patient man, he knows it, you know it – Marshall no doubt also knows it, which is probably why he recognized that August would be much better suited for this particular first time than he would be. That, and in the ‘natural equipment’ department, Marshall is just a little more intimidating circumference wise, which wouldn’t necessarily be ideal, either. You’re still throwing your hips back, fucking yourself stupid on August’s fingers, ignoring his soft chuckles while moaning louder and louder, but still too shy to ask for what you really want – unprompted, at least. Luckily, August isn’t in the mood for cruel games or teasing tonight.

“What do you want, darling?” He asks. The smile on his face is audible in his voice.

“I- I want you,” you say in between moans, “I want you to fuck my ass.” As much as your eagerness clearly turns him on more, he remains calm and takes his time, making sure you’re lying on your stomach comfortably, telling you over and over again that you absolutely have to tell him if anything is painful.

“Slow down,” you say, gritting your teeth as the sudden intrusion becomes a little too much, “please add some more lube.” He obliges to every request without question and without delay. The extra slickness makes things a lot easier, but it’s not quite enough just yet.

“More,” you grunt as soon as August adds a bit too much pressure. He halts his movements immediately and pulls back. It isn’t long before you feel even more of the cool liquid against your sensitive skin.

“Relax, darling,” August says as he carefully tries again. You take a deep breath and lean into his movements. This time, he pushes into you without any problems. You shriek at the sudden intrusion, though it doesn’t hurt at all – it’s just a very sudden, very intense feeling of insane fullness, and so different from what you normally feel, that it startles you. August doesn’t move, giving you some time to get used to his size and the feeling, which you’re incredibly grateful for. After a while he leans forward and softly strokes your hair.

“Can I move, darling?” he asks. His voice is as gentle as his touch. There is no doubt in your mind that you can trust him completely, and you nod. He wouldn’t be August if he didn’t need verbal confirmation.

“Yes, Daddy,” you moan. If your words aren’t a plea for him to start moving, your writhing hips have to be. Of course he notices – you are in no way subtle about it – and chuckles before speaking to you again: “Aren’t you an impatient little slut?” His words send shivers down your spine: you love it when he calls you that. A moan escapes you when he suddenly pulls out and slowly plunges all the way back into you, and the noises only get louder with every new thrust. August seems impressed as he picks up speed and you keep moaning only in pleasure without a single hint of pain to it.

“Such a good girl,” you hear him say between moans, “you’re taking me so well.” It’s like you’re floating on air: As he slides in and out of you, increasing his speed with every thrust of his hips, August keeps praising you, talking about how tight you are, how good you feel around his cock… Soon, you’re begging him to fuck you even harder, sinking further into that fantastic feeling than you ever thought possible. It takes everything you’ve got to keep your hands away from your pussy, when all you really want is to give your throbbing clit the attention it’s so desperately craving. Your pleasured moans become frustrated cries as your body keeps screaming for release, but none of the million sensations you’re feeling are enough to provide it. There is one solution, but you’re far too stubborn to open your mouth and ask. It’s a particularly short-lived sense of pride, as every thrust of August’s hips chips away at your determination to keep yourself from begging – and they’re coming in quick succession. If the feeling is as tight for him as it is for you, you’re going to have to be quick about it, too, because even August isn’t going to last forever.

“D-Daddy,” you whimper, “please tou-fuck! – touch me.” You can barely keep your eyes open at this point.

“Do you want to come, kitten?” August’s voice is sweet – the kind of sweet that usually signals a harsh rejection, but he’s in a good mood now, maybe you have a chance. You nod and whisper a barely audible ‘yes’ in between the cries that slip from your mouth every time he shoves his cock into you. “Is your little slut pussy begging for attention?”

“Yes, Daddy,” you manage to choke out. August’s grunts and growls are killing you, especially when he chuckles before he speaks to you again.

“Well, you’re being such a good little whore for Daddy,” he says, and for a moment you allow yourself to get excited, “go on, touch yourself.” You almost do it. Almost. And then you remember you aren’t allowed to. You want to scream, call him names, tell him he’s a sadistic bastard, but the chances of you sitting comfortably tomorrow are actually quite high. If you don’t rein in your attitude, those chances will dwindle below zero fast. Your thighs are trembling – not that the rest of you isn’t – and there are tears in your eyes now. Crying won’t scare him – if anything, it will turn him on more, and it sure as hell won’t help his ruthless tendencies, but you can’t take more of this.

“Please, Daddy, please,” you beg, “please make me come, please.” You say the word ‘please’ another ten or so times before he finally shushes you. It’s a sound you haven’t heard before, full of adoration – perhaps even a bit of admiration. You let out a loud shriek when he reaches around your hip and brings his fingers to your clit. It doesn’t take much – and by that you mean it takes him unbelievably little effort to take you right to the edge.

It’s his voice that ends up pushing you over, when he leans forward to whisper in your ear: “Come for me, you dirty little slut.”

You come so hard it almost scares you, screaming August’s name – which you’re hoping won’t land you in hot water, given the circumstances, but you can’t be sure of that – so loud you’re fairly sure the neighbors can hear all of it, and then you crash. Your cries turn into soft whimpers, and for a while, the only sounds to be heard are the ones from your mouth, his and the sound of his hips slamming into you. It doesn’t take very long before he seems unable to keep his rhythm steady. His breath quickens in that familiar way that tells you he’s close. You sigh in relief. It’s not that you want it to end, but you couldn’t possibly take any more of this.

“Darling, you’re so tight,” he hisses through clenched teeth, “you’re going to make me come.”

“Fuck, yes,” you moan, “please, Daddy, please come in my ass.” He’s more than happy to oblige, and with a loud grunt and an absolutely brutal final thrust, he empties himself inside you before collapsing on top of you.

He strokes your hair and kisses your shoulders and neck gently. Your instinctively dig your fingernails into his ass when you feel he’s trying to pull out, fearing the emptiness you’ll feel when he does.

“Shh, princess, it’s okay,” he whispers softly. You don’t seem to be in trouble for using his first name, but even that is the furthest thing from your mind right now. “You were absolutely amazing, darling. You took me so well.” He keeps talking to you until you finally melt into his arms. You’re exhausted, still trembling, but finally giving in to his touch, allowing him to take care of you. You whine when he finally lifts his warm body off your shivering one, and you only vaguely register that he grabs something off the nightstand.

“I think Sir would love to see a picture of you like this, princess,” he says as he softly brushes his fingers over the curve of your ass, “is it okay if I take one?” You nod eagerly. Something about you loves it when either one of them shows you off to the other, especially when they’re proud of you. You raise yourself up on your knees a little at August’s request. It’s difficult because you’re still shaking, but it doesn’t take long before you can collapse into the heap of pillows again. August’s hands find their way back to you shortly after, and he presses more soft kisses to your back, shoulders and neck.

“Do you want me to run you a bath, kitten?” he asks softly, and all you can do in reply is moan. After gathering your thoughts for a few short moments, you follow him into the bathroom.

“Can I get a moment?” you ask shyly, and August smiles and nods before he leaves you alone so you can clean up a bit. Despite the incredible intimacy of your relationship with August, there are some things you prefer to do in a slightly more private setting. Pushing your boyfriend’s cum out of your ass definitely falls into that category.

You’re shaking and sore, and when you’re done splashing some cold water in your face and you look up into the mirror, you see that you look very tired. August appears behind you after turning the water off, and he gently pulls you towards the bath.

“Join me?” Your words are barely a question, but your eyes are definitely begging him. Of course he agrees, he always does. It’s one of his favorite ways to unwind and reconnect after intense experiences. You’re grateful for that, because you love nothing more than to curl up against him while enjoying the soothing warmth of the water. He helps you get in and immediately pulls you onto his lap. You sigh as you melt into his embrace. His chest is a wonderful pillow, and his hands gently work your sore muscles.

“I’m proud of you.” The words are accompanied by a kiss to your temple. You laugh softly, telling August you’re actually pretty pleased with yourself, too. Your words make him laugh, too, before he tells you it’s well deserved.

“Did you like it?” It’s a redundant question – it would have been from either of you – and it makes you laugh.

“August, I fucking loved it,” you say as you snuggle even closer to him and tell him you’re definitely up for doing this again. Soon.

“I guess we’ll have to invite Marshall over sometime, then,” he says with a devious smile spreading slowly across his face. Your breath catches in your throat as he says it and your thoughts immediately run wild. Oh, yes, you think, you absolutely have to.

[purplesurveys]

1675

What would you consider to be the worst television channel out there? I haven’t tuned in to TV channels in years, so I couldn’t tell you. I only ever use the TV for apps now, like YouTube and Disney+, even Spotify.

Are you currently sitting on your bed or some other place? Where? I’m at our rooftop table.

Did anything tend to make you extremely happy today? What was it? Yeah my dad told me about seeing Yoongi on TV while he was watching the NBA game. What is it, semifinals? Finals? Anyway he caught him and took some photos for me and I found it so hilariously endearing.

Have you ever had anyone drop off animals at your house? What kind? Yup, if I remember correctly my sister had to pet-sit her friend’s cat when she went on vacation for a few days.

Are you planning on going to the movies with anyone at all this weekend? No, I don’t really go to the movies.

What month is it? Would you consider this to be your favorite month? It’s May. My favorite month actually just passed (April). I’m indifferent about May.

Do you like any one of your friends in any other way than just a friend? Nope.

Have you ever made your bf/gf choose between you and someone else? No.

Do you remember when some of the Wal-Marts had McDonalds’ in them? Or not? I’ve never even been inside a Wal-Mart. They have restaurants in them???

When was the last time you took a shower? Was that too long ago? Last night. I wouldn’t say it was long ago hahaha, but I do have to take another one early in the morning tomorrow before I head out. Do you know where the remote to the closest television is located or not? Yeah, it’s just beside said TV.

When was the last time you were somewhere that offered free Wi-Fi? This afternoon. I was at a coffee shop and the barista offered the wi-fi password, but free wi-fi tends to be crap so I just opted for my own data.

Do you know anyone who is on drugs? Are you personally on them? Hmm, not that I know of. And no, I’m not.

Name one interesting fact about yourself that people might not know about? It baffles people more than interests them, but my go-to fact is that I don’t eat fruits just because it usually garners the most interaction and reaction lol.

Do you ever have to write down a phone number to remember it, or not? For sure. I can’t remember series of numbers just by memory.

Who was the last person you talked to on an instant messaging service? Workmates; just sent them final reminders a few minutes ago for our event tomorrow.

What color are your curtains? Are you satisfied with this color? I have blinds, and they’re a shade of off-white. I like them, but I wish I also had blackout curtains as there are days that I don’t like natural light to seep into my room.

Does your phone have texting? How many times a day do you text, estimate? Yup. It really depends on my text workload for the day lol since sometimes I have to reach out to media or influencer handlers through text, but most of the time I use chat platforms like Viber.

When was the last time you were stung by a bee? What kind was it? I’ve never been stung by a bee and never want to be stung by a bee.

Do you know anyone personally who had their house burn down before? Part of the house yes, but I don’t think I know anyone whose entire house burned down.

Do you think the media can further manipulate our teenagers anymore? Sure, but I feel like the older generation is more vulnerable to manipulation.

Who would you consider to be your favorite American Idol on the show? None of my picks in the seasons I did watch ended up winning, lol. They were always booted out early on, or finished as a runner-up.

What grade will you be in when your school starts back? When does it start? I graduated college in 2020 and have no immediate plans to go back.

Have you ever had someone sympathetically lie to make you feel better? Oh, I’m sure. It’s just small white lies like ‘it’s gonna be okay’ but I’m counting those anyway.

Do you know anyone who constantly puts themselves down? Why? Hmm, I don’t think so. Everyone I know seems to be genuinely doing well.

When was the last time you layed at night and looked at the stars? Couple of weeks ago when Amygdala first came out, especially when the video came out. That song makes me think.

What would you consider the cheesiest pick up line ever invented? I’m not a fan of them in general.

If you have an iTouch or iPhone, what would you consider your favorite App? Twitter.

When was the last time you had a piece of cake? What was the occassion? Today. No occasion, it’s just what I had at the coffee shop as I didn’t feel like having a savory meal.

Do you know anyone who has their septum pierced? Does it look painful? A few people I went to college with. Yeah, I think piercings look painful to get in general.

Do you think some famous people just shouldn’t be famous at all? Who? I guess, and I feel this way mostly towards influencers who make a living out of controversies or dumbing themselves down for the camera. Off the top of my head, people like Trisha Paytas or Nikocado Avocado haha.

When was the last time you heard your favorite song on the radio if ever? I don’t have a favorite song but I was excited to hear Permission to Dance at a cafe that was playing the radio a week ago.

Do you wish you had a different first name? What do you wish it could be? I felt that way only as a kid, when I wanted to be called Isabelle instead (my second name) because I wanted people in school to stop teasing me for my first name.

Has anyone ever complimented you on your singing? Did you believe them? No, there is nothing to compliment hahaha.

Do you know someone who constantly tries to embarass you on all ocassions? Used to. I wouldn’t want to stick around with someone like that.

Do you know anyone who has dyed their hair a ridiculous neon color? Yeah but I wouldn’t deem it ridiculous. Just do whatever you want to your hair lol.

What is your favorite kind of potato chip? Are they cheap to buy? I like the taste of baked potato chips more than your ordinary chips. I don’t actually know if they cost more or not.

Are you afraid to save your surveys cause you think people will read them? Back when I was super new to surveys, I was shy about the idea of people seeing them because I thought I was the only one doing them lol so I never saved them. Like I literally just filled out the template then moved to the next without ever saving. At some point I figured my surveys would be interesting to keep as an archive, so I started a Tumblr where I dumped surveys. To this day I like reading my surveys from years ago to see how I’ve changed, to see the parts where I used to be cringey, to bring back memories I’ve since forgotten.

Has anyone ever kissed you in the rain? Did it seem romantic at the time? I don’t think so.

What is one part on your body that hurts at this moment, if anything? Lower back.

What was the last song you listened to? Did you enjoy this song? Dope by BTS. Yes, I love it.

What is your heritage? Do you have a bunch of mixed heritages? Filipino.

When was the last time you listened to a genre of you music you despise? I never listen to country haha.

How satisfied with life are you at this exact moment in time? Why is this? 8 in general, 3 in the immediate short-term because I fucking hate the work I’m stuck in right now. I CAN’T WAIT FOR THAILAND

[vendettamuses]

@maximuses SAID: i want you safe. i want you close to me. -> boba and delphine

⚔️ Prompts for Lots of Yearning // ACCEPTING ⚔️

The words are accompanied by the gentle creeping of his fingers along her back until his hand rests at the small of it. Guiding. And angled just so that, should the situation call for it, he can take her waist and pull her closer. The words are whispered, his breath ghosting against the shell of her ear, making it twitch and shift toward him. Without looking, she answers him lowly, her eyes still squarely fixated on the crowd around them. Taking note of who is watching.

"How much closer do you need me to be?"

He chuckles in response, letting the question go unanswered. Verbally, anyway. She already knows how he would respond if he could. But Boba Fett is a man of action, not words. This she knows too. (Though she also knows this is one thing he wishes he could be better at. He has said before how he is envious of some of the others - of how they can speak their love so freely, letting it flow like water in a river from their mouths. He wishes he could be so poetic and flowery in his expressions. And truth be told, sometimes Delphine wishes he was more well-versed in such a form of romance. But even still, she adores how direct and how blunt he is in what few words of adoration he does offer - no flowerage required.)

The hand at her waist rubs small circles against her back, soothing and steady, before sliding to her hip and drawing her in closer. Fingers curl protectively over the gentle slope of her hipbone, whispering a silent as close as I can have you.

"You worry too much for me." She hums as they press on through the market, stopping briefly at an unmanned fruit stand to look over the produce. Around the, the crowd parts to make way, looking on and whispering amidst themselves once their backs are turned. She hears it all. The gossip and rumors, the suspicions and the interpretations.

"Because I have seen what the galaxy is capable of," He returns, mirroring the softness of her voice. "And I have lost so much to it already. I won't let it take you from me as well. Not if I can help it."

His grip on her only grows more firm and more protective. She cannot help but be pulled into his broad, armored chest. Her hands find familiar, deep green beskar, warmed by the sun and shifting under heavy breaths grown from tension at the mere thought of him being apart from her. "You won't lose me," she hums, tracing her fingers along the edge of it, letting the heat of them seep through the rough fabric of his shirt beneath and carefully soothe his rushing mind. It works, just like it always does when she touches him. He stills like a beast soothed, his grip easing on her waist enough so that she can turn herself more directly toward him. At last, their heads turn to finally look at each other with familiar fondness.

"Delphine-"

"You won't." She cuts him off, reaffirming her statement. "Nothing will take me from you, Boba. You have to trust me."

He opens his mouth to speak but quickly shuts it. Still, it is not quick enough to prevent Delphine from hearing the message loud and clear. I trust no one but myself. It stings, but she supposes she should not be surprised. The years of service as a bounty hunter, serving only those who would benefit from his work regardless of whether he lived or died, losing people he loved over and over, knowing only death and violence and loss from each time he tried to make a fresh start for himself and others. It would only be natural for him to deduce that trust is not something he can afford to offer.

But he wants to. He desperately wants to. That is why he is here with Fennec, and with the Mods, and with Krrsantan. And her. He wants to do right by her. He wants to be good for her. He wants to provide for her and protect her and prove that this is - that they are not a mistake.

"I'm trying," he whispers, shoulder sagging as he sighs. Still, she smiles, the hand on his chest reaching up to gently cup his cheek. A warm thumb caresses just beneath his eye and without thinking, he closes them and leans into her touch. He breathes in the scent of smoky warmth and nectar and citrus that radiates from her. The soothing sensation of her touch grounds through the storm of his thoughts. And seeing him melt into her so easily, she smiles. She smiles and thinks, damned be the crowd. Damned be the whispers. Damned be the thoughts. Their secret has long been revealed. Damned be the consequences. And she leans in. Her breath ghosts against his lips, startling him briefly before his gaze fixates on her face so close to his. Pupils dilate, looking to drink in as much of her as he can in this moment as she whispers to him.

"I know."

Then she kisses him, and he feels his heart quiver in his chest. She's never done this before - never been so open and bold about their relationship. Always, always has she been so secretive, insistent on keeping things quiet and private. And he's never minded - though he has yearned for the opportunity to display their love just the slightest bit, if for no other reason than to send a message that she is not to be trifled with. That she is his partner, under his protection. Though, he has also wanted to do so just to prove his devotion to her. But she always thought that such acts would be counterproductive, attracting unneeded attention and painting a target on her back; highlighting her as a means of getting to him.

Now, such concerns seem so far from her. And he loves it.

He kisses her back, gentle and adoring. Fingers gently touch her chin, guiding her even as his fingers burn with the desire to grasp her more tightly, more intimately. All too soon, she pulls away. The kiss is brief but sweet and searingly intense. It leaves him wanting more, and she only stokes that desire as she caresses his jaw and looks at him so lovingly before dropping her hand completely.

"And I love you."

The murmurings of the crowd were far from him in that moment. His mind could only concentrate on her and her words, and he could only think to himself how lucky he was to have her. To have someone who knew his every flaw as well as she knew the desires of his heart, and loved all of him just the same... What he had done to deserve her, he did not know.

But what he would do to keep her was limitless.

[lady-grace-pens]

FOAD Snippet [2]

Mid size fluffy bit between Emily and her sister Cal :)

Taglist: @wordwizards @flowerprose

•••

Mist coats the early morning horizon, mingling with Jack Frost gleefully dancing over the hills. Both plead the newborn sun, with its golden orange light, for five more minutes. The sun cries for its place in the stars.

Heavenly rings outline the shadowy figures of the people dotting the bare street far below. Children laughing, chasing each other round and round, while their dogs play along with them. Rather a nuisance to the adults having to pass by, but the youth laughs in the face of responsibility anyway.

Cal’s signature Chamomile tea, with notes of honey and vanilla, undo the knots constraining my vocal chords. My sister is across from me, fidgeting with the knobs on the stove. She’s been busying herself since she awoke, baking batches of fresh bread for our group with a song in her heart. Pumpernickel, sourdough, and rhye fill the entire apartment. Across our dining table the next room over lay the tub of butter, cinnamon, honey, jam and jelly, all of our favorite toppings.

My phone vibrates on my hip. I glance down at it.

“Pierre’s on his way, dearest.”

“Oh! Tell him to pick up eggs from the store on his way. I thought we had enough for everyone, but we’re short.”

I relay her message before turning back to the kitchen windows.

“Darling, are you sure you know where all your classes are? I could always escort you, if need be.”

Cal meets me with a mirriad of chuckles. “Sissy, this isn’t my first year here. How many times have we run down those halls when we were kids, waiting on MawMaw to finish her lectures?”

The scene plays out in the ripples of my tea. All our games of castle… Lord. It was only yesterday. She was the little princess and I was either her dragon or the queen, knighting invisible men for acts of great heroism and bravery. Sometimes Ilya would even play with us, if he happened to be there with his parents. Those were rare, though, we were usually alone. As much as our grandmother tried her damndest to be here for us throughout the extensive traveling life professors often have, I’m more of a mother to Cal than anybody else could be. It was always so lonely in the manor on weekends, when she visited her father. I was alone, save for Mother and a few maids. On Sunday nights, when she came back, I would race down the stairs screaming, hugging her and never wanting to let go.

Salty tears seep through the cracks of my smile. “Fair point. I know, darling, I’m just-”

“Looking out for me, I know.” Cal steps over to me, interlocking both our hands. “Emmy. I’m a sophomore now. You pushed me to graduate early in high school. You pushed me to become your Vice President. My grades are never short of excellent. You have nothing to worry about. It’s okay to let go a little bit, Sissy. Relax a bit, you know? Life isn’t always word documents and web pages. I’m going to get ready, watch the bread for me?”

She leaves for her room without another word.

[zeon-twilight]

Just some more rambles.

When I make one of these posts it's always kind of difficult. I know some of the eyes on the words I write. I know other eyes could be on them if the algorithmic gods feel cheeky. I work to speak my feelings truly, but refine them, examine them, and ideally process them. What I struggle with most I think is feeling them though. It's one of those traits that have their advantages and disadvantages I guess. Feeling them is hard because it gets in the way of doing something to address the cause of them. Like, sure, I feel like crying about a bunch of stuff, and sometimes I allow myself to, but the whole time I get the sense that the energy spent crying might be better used doing something about it. This means I'm often great at getting stuff done regardless of how I'm feeling inside, which is a sometimes boon in the capitalistic sense, but not always great on the old emotional spectrum. I've been accused in the past of being aloof from time to time. It's not really something I mean to do, but I think it's gotten worse as the years have worn me down. The tiredness which pervades my being seeps through into my current endeavors. A pragmatic temptation towards indifference to the struggles of others due to my own. The resignation there is a great deal of pain in this world and fair or unfair, we all bear some measure of it. I try to put a good foot forward, but people can feel it when you don't have the enthusiasm they want from you. You know? Inside I know every person deserves effort and care which is individual to whatever bond you have created, and yet the scar tissue inside limits my emotional range of motion, and my insecurities and pains shows through. There is a sense of "What is the point of trying in a world where it all falls apart eventually?" A nasty habit of looking out for the other foot to fall whenever something nice happens. The temptation to not engage because maybe the winning move is to not play. And yet, usually even feeling all that, I try and grit my teeth, and I choose to care anyway, to try and at least go through the motions of caring even if I can't manage the full emotional resonance of it right now. Not for profit, not for some "point", or even because I think it'll make things work out for me and mine. But because it's what I want to be at the end of the day, and very few of the best parts of who I am came easily, so why would life make caring even through pain easy when it is so clearly needed in this world? At the same time, letting go, moving forward, and making sure I'm caring about the right things, the right people, is important if I'm going to improve stuff. But my thoughts have a nasty habit of pulling to the past, regrets, things I wish I could fix (partly because things keep happening to me that I can't fix, but I digress). All that existing in a socioeconomic system which has everyone scrabbling for scraps and generally many of them not living their most abundant periods of their lives, and you find the horrible recipe for these annoyingly recurrent blog posts. I wanna help the world, but that starts with helping myself and my family. Hard to when things are so scarce, and I know deep down I'm one of the *Lucky ones* I've got a roof over my head, got a computer, got *less* debt than a lot of people. It feels almost entitled to complain at all in a world where people suffer much more than I have even at my worst day, and don't even have a place to write down their feelings. Well, deserved complaints or no, I keep them neatly to this little corner of the internet now don't I? Perhaps that's enough. I suppose it's all just perspectives, isn't it? I hope things are getting better for you, Who/what/when/where-ever you are. ZT

P.S. Don't read anything too much into the highlights. I just noticed I could color text and put some vibe colors on words which stood out to me while I was proof reading. Any messages derived from the colorful words is entirely made up in the mind of the reader and not intended by the writer.

[eliwray]

As I get more down on paper, it’s all connecting together in directions that are hard to separate out into sections! I feel like the what’s-his-face meme with the conspiracy board with all the strings!

Anyway, let’s talk about sociability and masking.

So there have been studies done on “likeability”, where nonautistic interviewees are shown photos/videos of various folks in social settings -- some of the depicted folks autistic, some not. Within seconds, interviewees would decide that they liked the autistic folks less than the others, and that perception did not change with longer exposure. Interviewees also reported less interest in pursuing social connection with the autistic folks than the nonautistic ones represented. This held true when interviewees were shown audio, visual, or audio and visual footage. Intriguingly, written transcripts of the interactions gave similar scores of likeability across autistic and nonautistic folks portrayed. This indicates it’s not content but style of communication that puts off NTs.

And. Well. *gestures at Wolfe*

But let’s look more closely at this unlikeability of his, a trait he wears as both curse and badge of honor. He knows he rubs people the wrong way. He knows others know of his reputation of doing so. He uses it sometimes to make his own life easier, pushing away social obligations, but he also has to swim through that to have the impact he wants to have politically. It also seeps into his own sense that he’s a good partner for Nic, or is at least a part of that equation.

But! This is also the man who tells Naomi just what she needs to hear in a war zone. Who emotionally supports a hurt Izumi on the translation platform. Who organizes the prisoners in book 4. Who negotiates with the Welsh, and has a history of doing so with many armies on battlefields. Who sends pivotal and persuasive letters to find allies. Who gives Nic what he needs. Who - once he decides his remaining postulants will be served better by education than by removing them from the Library’s grasp - is an engaging and exciting teacher. When the students become his friends, we often see his charming side.

He is certainly not ineffectual or a disaster in all relationships or social situations. He is not lacking the capacity to persuade and sometimes inspire others. What he lacks are fucks to give specifically around everyday social expectations that are, to him, superficial. (I initially just called them superficial in that sentence but hey, I’m autistic. They mean more to other people, I forget!)

Some of the difference in the two categories above is how much leeway loved ones give him in intimate settings to be a curmudgeon, sure. But also, sometimes the difference is masking.

Autistic masking is camouflage, behaving the way others want or expect us to behave. Someone like Wolfe, who builds his understanding of the world on patterns of power and consequences he sees around him and in history, he can adapt his behavior for short periods of time to communicate better with friend or foe. He can behave as someone who will get the best outcome at the negotiating table. He can be someone who communicates love and care that someone needs. It doesn’t matter whether it came naturally to him to put a hand on Izumi’s head when she was frightened; he knew channeling his care and pride into that might communicate his message to her that she was not alone.

Devon Price in their amazing book, Unmasking Autism makes the point that afabs, people of color, queer folks, and folks who overlap those categories are culturally expected to show some level of submission, more so than cis white men and even boys. This leads to a much higher level of masking for us, and is why so very many of us went under the radar as kids, and got no autism diagnosis. Structurally, autism is overwhelmingly defined as how cis boys present with it.

This relates to Wolfe’s situation in that pivot point of submission. Even as an adult male with considerable privilege, he must submit to the Library. That has shaped what he shows others of how he functions. He hasn’t chosen his mask by some random definition of strength. He has shaped it to survive his very specific situation. Masking is deeply exhausting, and he pours his efforts into only what gains him what he values. Likeability be damned.

Once one knows the rhythms of masking, you can also see it in how he and Nic handle public displays of affection. We’ve discussed how they aren’t really in the closet. Everyone seems to know about their relationship, especially their superiors who would be the biggest threat. But Wolfe compartmentalizes. Because for him, he’s masking or he’s not. And his affection for Nic is authentic and real and not part of any camouflage he wants to use to accomplish anything.

Keep this in mind - Wolfe shaping what he shows about his ND - when we talk about the next thing.

Hi there! So this series of posts is written by an autist - nearly a year out from a late diagnosis - and I am sorting out a looong resonance with Christopher Wolfe and building a case for him being autistic.

The idea that Wolfe is autistic isn’t going to surprise anyone ever! But my reasons for it might surprise you, depending on what you know about autism. So, without further ado, let’s start what will inevitably be a lot of words on this topic.

First, a few words about autism. Like many things in oppressive systems like ours, a personal perspective of autism built on information passively gathered in our culture can easily be chock full of misinformation. Autism has been overwhelmingly defined by non-autistics describing how autistic kids’ trauma-induced behavior impacts other people, rather than the lived experience, gifts or needs of actual autistic people of any age. I would encourage actively seeking out input from actually autistic people, in order to be informed.

Quick terminology note: ASD (Autism Spectrum Disorder) is a list of problems made by non-autistics and put in the DSM. Autism is a neurodivergence that I have a lot of pride in. The largest overlap of the two is, again, what non-autistics get bothered by in autists with PTSD from being mishandled all our lives. Living and thriving with and inside autism is a whole other ball of wax from that.

I’ll mention this too, because it’s the largest misconception and it impacts Wolfe’s characterization. Non-autistics decided at some point that autists have no empathy, when in fact most autists are easily overwhelmed by an abundance of empathy for other people, animals, and even objects. Check out “the double empathy problem” for further information, but the gist is, empathy works VERY differently for autist and nonautist brains, and communicating across that gap is fraught and complicated. And nonautists have the power to define most everything about mental health. And they decided a long time ago that the miscommunications mean autists have no feelings or compassion. That is incorrect.

Okay. Next up, Christopher Wolfe, autist. This will be a nonexhaustive list of ways he embodies autism, which I thought would come with a reread later this year but my brain wouldn’t let go of until I started writing it!

More to come.

[iamfabiloz]

@jayzzu hi sorry here if ur onefire fic thing sorry I went insane and wrote so much more than a paragraph I got too into it💔 i literally cannot just do a simple thing real!! I wrote context for the scene where onewhisker and firestar r cuddling after Tallstar kicks the bucket! It is currently 4:30am I started writing at like 2am I am so sick 😁 anyways enjoy!! There’s probably a bunch of mistakes but my vision is blurring so I’m gonna pass out now AAAJWJ oki gone

Onewhisker felt cold air seep into his bones, the wind felt strange and unfamiliar to his aching pelt. A black and white figure was slumped on the ground before him. The limp tom’s once fever-bright eyes were dull and void, no spark of recognition in them at all. The cat’s pelt was cold to the touch and rolled lifelessly when Onewhisker nudged it desperately. 

Tallstar was dead. 

Windclan cats milled around the body, dipping their heads solemnly and murmuring kind words. Onewhisker sat in silence only a few pawsteps away from the cat who had once been leader of WindClan. Morningflower, Onewhisker’s sister, was hunched over looking devastated. Onewhisker felt his heart twist as he heard her shaky sobs. 

Tallstar was her mentor. 

Ashfoot, Onewhisker’s other sister, was licking her head soothingly, though her own expression was deeply grim. 

Bitter bile rose in his throat, and overwhelming grief swept over him once more in a terrible wave. He had know Tallstar for so long, he had been something of a father figure to him, he wasn’t sure what he’d do without him. Onewhisker remembered being a small kit when Tallstar had been in his prime, leading WindClan valiantly. He was beloved, even by those not in WindClan. Onewhisker treasured those memories fondly, though sometimes he found himself wishing he were a kit again. But now he was a full-grown warrior, no long wet behind the ears and starry-eyed. And Tallstar was dead. Dead, dead, dead and hunting with StarClan forever. Onewhisker wished he could mourn in peace and just think about the good times with the old tom, but it wasn’t that simple. Before Tallstar had passed, he had given Onewhisker the most terrifying message he had ever received in his whole life.

He was to be the next leader of WindClan.

Onewhisker closed his eyes painfully at the memory, still feeling surprised at the fact that it was real. Everyone had expected Mudclaw, the clan’s actual deputy, to be the next leader. But, Tallstar had other plans. With his dying breaths, Tallstar had named Onewhisker as his successor, shaking the brown tabby warrior to his core. 

How am I going to do this? Onewhisker thought helplessly. I’m not ready to lead a whole clan. What about Mudclaw? He could feel the deputy’s glare burning into the back of his head. The disgraced dark brown tom was hunched over in the back of the crowd, looking mournful yet extremely cross. I would be mad too if someone stole my position. But Tallstar chose me. And I need to honor his word, no matter what Mudclaw thinks. Right?

Onewhisker exhaled deeply through his nose, feeling even more wretched. Thought he agreed with the thoughts in his mind, nagging doubt still ate at him. He turned to gaze at the crowd.

I wish Firestar was here.

As if on cue, a flame-colored form began weaving itself through the sea of pelts. Onewhisker stiffened as the familiar orange tom grew near. Firestar’s pelt was glossy and slick with rain, his muscles rippling strongly beneath his fur. The tom’s emerald green eyes gleamed like fireflies in the night, making Onewhisker feel fluttery. The handsome tom finally made it to Onewhisker’s side, sitting down next to him with a worried look. 

“Are you alright? Losing a leader is hard, I know how it is.” 

Firestar murmured, his word gentle, reaching out with a paw to place it on Onewhisker’s side. Onewhisker shivered at the touch, despite himself. All his miserable thoughts seemed to fade slightly into the background as he stared at the handsome ginger tom. But the elder’s dragging Tallstar away for burial preparation distracted him from his momentary bliss.

“I-It’s fine. I’m just thinking, you know..”

Onewhisker fumbled, failing to think think of the right words. He sighed again, feeling his chest grow heavy once more. Firestar blinked at him, concern shining in his eyes. 

“It’s alright, you can talk to me. I’m here for you Onewhisker, I’m your friend.” Firestar pressed closer, his tail flicking at Onewhisker’s own. Onewhisker’s muzzle twitched once, before he opened his mouth and spilled his guts.

“What if I’m not a good leader for WindClan? I wasn’t expecting this at all, how can I be ready? It’s too soon… Tallstar is going to be disappointed in me and so will all my clanmates, I- can’t do this, Firestar.”

Onewhisker clamped his jaws shut, preventing anymore of his own whiny rambling.

What was that? Onewhisker growled internally at himself. You made a complete fool of yourself, you rabbit-brain.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know where that came from.” Onewhisker muttered, his eartips burning with shame.

He looked wearily at Firestar, expecting a scornful look. Instead, Firestar’s warm face was filled with sympathy. Onewhisker stiffened as Firestar leaned over and buried his muzzle in Onewhisker’s shoulder. 

“It’s alright, I know how you feel.” The ThunderClan leader whispered, his voice brimming with unexpected emotion. 

“When Bluestar died, I felt hopeless and out of my league. She had been the only leader of ThunderClan I’d ever known and I’d never seen the position taken by anyone else. It was so jarring to have to take her place and lead ThunderClan, especially with Tigerstar around. Despite that, I knew that she wanted me to continue on without her. She believed in me and I know Tallstar had the upmost faith in you. He may have been on his death bed, but he was one of the wisest cats I’ve ever known. He chose you, for a reason. He knew that you were going to do amazing as leader, better than Mudclaw ever could. Everything is going to turn out great, I know it Onewhisker.”

Onewhisker felt his pelt grow increasingly warm. He leaned into the tom’s pelt, his comforting, foresty scent filling his nose. Onewhisker made a small choking noise and felt his eyes water. He had never felt so grateful and overwhelmed by kindness in his life. Utter fondness for the other tom washed over his pelt like an ocean wave, along with something else… Onewhisker swallowed hard, deep emotional babbling threatening to spill directly from his mouth. 

“I- thank you Firestar. That means a lot coming from you.” Onewhisker meowed huskily, daring to touch his nose to Firestar’s cheek.

Firestar’s rumbling purr sent shivers down Onewhisker’s spine. 

“Your very welcome. I would do anything for you, you know. I promise whatever’s coming we’ll face it together. You and I.” 

Firestar meowed, his honey-sweet voice encouraging. He pulled his head away from Onewhisker’s shoulder, much to the brown tabby’s silent disappointment. Firestar gave Mudclaw behind them an uneasy glance, but he turned back to gaze at Onewhisker warmly. 

Onewhisker struggled to keep it together,  the fur along his quivering subconsciously. He couldn’t help but smile, despite them being present at a funeral. Feeling better than he had in days, he purred softly. 

“I don’t deserve a friend like you.” Onewhisker murmured, glancing over Tallstar’s curled up form. It was now covered in lavender, mint and other sweet smelling herbs the elders had placed upon his deceased pelt. 

Firestar nuzzled the side of Onewhisker’s head affectionately. Onewhisker bit back a mew of a surprise. 

“Of course you do. Who else would in WindClan would I pester?” Firestar joked lightly. Onewhisker hid his smile by lifting a paw to his face. 

“Thunder-cat.” He hissed playfully. Firestar purred and sat up straight. The playful light in his pretty eyes died as he gazed solemnly at Tallstar’s body. 

“He was a good friend to us both.” Firestar mewed softly, his voiced cracking with emotion.

Onewhisker nodded sadly. 

“I’m going to miss him so much.”

 Onewhisker felt his stomach twist with grief again, but this time it was less sharp. Firestar’s warm presence soothed his turbulent emotions a smidge. But he felt his eyes brim with tears again and he couldn’t help but but lean against Firestar’s glossy orange shoulder and weep silently. Firestar shifted so that his head was resting on the top of Onewhisker’s own. The warm weight made Onewhisker squirm delightedly in his pelt despite himself. Onewhisker closed his eyes, feeling his tears dampen the fur on his face. 

Though he wept, he was no longer soul-crushingly hopeless. He still felt the sting of loss but it was greatly dulled by the presence of the ThunderClan leader and the reassurance he had brought. 

He had a … “friend”, someone who he could rely and depend upon. Someone who, dare he say it… loved him, truly, Firestar could see and understand Onewhisker in a way no other cat had before. 

He has a mate and kits! A rational inner voice chimed in the back of the smitten warrior’s head. But it quickly faded to the sidelines as Onewhisker squeezed his eyes tighter, relishing the touch of soft fur against his. He didn’t want to dwell on more happiness destroying knowledge today, thank you very much. Anways…

Onewhisker he loved him, right back, always. Though he couldn’t cohesively put it into words, even inside his mind, Onewhisker was painfully aware. But just for right now, he wouldn’t dwell upon what these thoughts said about him and his state of being. 

For now, the pitter patter of raindrops splashing against stone and grass filled his head, drizzling out any further thoughts. 

Firestar curled his tail over Onewhisker’s side, partially shielding his from the dripping water. Feeling like he could breath again, Onewhisker sucked in air  deeply, but this time it wasn’t out of fear or stress. 

It was out of simple contentment. 

I won’t let either of you down, he vowed, feeling the water droplets prick his pelt.  I’ll do my best to make you proud, Tallstar. And you too, he silently thought at the ginger tom curled around him. 

I promise. 

[koushisatori]

if you can't believe in others, at least believe in us

kyoutani x gn!reader

genre: as ordered: a bit of angst w a touch of comfort

warnings: one (1) big jealous idiot, miscommunication

word count: 5.4k

note: this is smth an anon asked me to do (but like...nearly a year ago, I'm not sure if anon is still there or if they remember and my dumbass deleted the ask so I just beta-ed through whatever I had but I know they called me out on enjoying jealous characters so here we go) I'm sorry, mysterious anon, I'm stupid </3 Anyway, that's that. I don't remember if reader was supposed to be female or not so I made it gn!reader (but if I forgot to change something, pls tell me so I can fix any errors c: It's also my first attempt I apologize in advance)

In the beginning, you weren't sure why your boyfriend is ignoring you

You can't remember doing something that would annoy him, nor do you remember an instant of anger in his eyes that would give you a hint about his reasoning to stay away from you

He explained early on that sometimes he just needs a day of distance because Kentarou could feel the anger simmering right under the surface, enough that something small could tick him off already, and he would hate if you were on the receiving end of this unexplained fury

Both of you also made sure to promise each other to clearly communicate, the relationship between the two of you would not last long if you're not properly telling each other what might be bothering or hurting...just in general cross a boundary

Communication probably was one of the most important aspects of your relationship

cue to the actual situation: your boyfriend avoiding you

So, Monday evening you think maybe it's this overwhelming sensation of unexplained anger and that something at morning practice ticked him off completely

But then Tuesday comes and goes, and your boyfriend had avoided you all day long, did not even bother to read your messages,

on Wednesday, you try to talk to him, but all he does is glaring at you with a look that leaves you speechless and kind of heartbroken,

Thursday is the day you're replaying everything you did on Monday, trying to find something that he could have misunderstood, yet no matter how hard you think about it…your brain won't come up with a reason that explained why Kentarou was so upset with you!

So you decide to make him talk to you on Friday

Enough is enough, right? For gods' sake, he is your boyfriend! You miss him and his strong arms that give hugs so warm that you melt right into them

You don't get a second alone with him until school ends

you practically sprint out of the school building over to the gym, knowing that he had a free hour, which means that he is probably the first person there - your only chance

There he is, sitting with his back to you, aggressively chewing on a bun filled with chicken - his usual that reminded him of his favorite dish - glaring holes into the ground

After taking a deep breath to calm yourself, you carefully aks: ''Kentaro…Ken…?'', slowly stretching out your hand, wanting to rest it on his shoulder to maybe help to soothe him a bit

he flinches instead and his heated, agitated gaze meets your eyes, making you recoil in return

''…will you talk to me, I miss you…'' you say softly, realizing how it hurt being ignored by him

''Ah, suddenly you miss me…'' he spits, narrowing his eyes ''…didn't fucking seem like it the last time I saw you…''

''Kentaro, baby, I have no idea what you mean,'' you plead, keeping your voice low to hide the desperation lacing it, confusion written all over your features

all Kyoutani does is growl, hopping down from where he's sitting while shouldering his gym bag

''...shouldn't have been so flirty with Shittykawa like that then-'' he grumbles - ''Ken, I didn't-'' you insist, but he continues ''twirling your hair, batting your pretty eyelashes at him, fuck you Y/N, if you want him, then feel free to take a fucking leave" Kyoutani cusses, not even listening to you

You shake your head, ''Kentaro, no, you totally misunderstood the situation,'' you follow up, panic seeping into your voice now that you knew what he referred to, ''I love yo-''

''Tsk'', he moves to leave

you try to take his hand but, instead of turning around, Kyoutani just rips it away from you, tucking it into the pocket of his jacket

from behind you, you hear Yahaba and Oikawa approaching (talking about Volleyball and Captains duties)

once they guessed what must have happened, they offered you their help (they both swear that Kyoutani will never ever find a ''cute s/o as you are, y/n-chan, I'm worried for my little angry pomeranian kohai'' )

Usually, you would try to talk to him, but after enduring a week of radio silence and now this treatment, you were tired of upholding something that seemed like a lost cause

you just wave both setters off and leave the school grounds, a frown plastered onto your lips and tears swimming in your eyes

Kentarou had not listened to you, did not even really look at you, and the few seconds he did, his eyes were filled with rage instead of the warmth he had usually reserved for you (and only for you)

If your boyfriend thinks avoiding you for a week and blaming you for something ridiculous without hearing you out is how you handle a relationship…maybe you would have to consider not pursuing it any longer

Which is easier said than done

The whole night you wait for a message, anything, and then all Saturday morning

you still had hope left

You get one from Yahaba, who tells you that Oikawa tried to clear up the situation as well after the reason for your fight dawned on him (Kyoutanis piss poor mood and behavior towards him a strong indicator) but Kentaro, again, just ran off

The future team captain even called you after your lackluster answer, listening to you getting the frustration and sadness out of your system

It didn't matter, right? Your boyfriend decided to unofficially call it quits by implying that your feelings for him were not genuine instead of using his mouth to talk to you and disregarding everyone involved

as if he wanted to ignore the truth as a convenient excuse to get out of your relationship

that's the conclusion your brain came up with

You softly sniffle in the privacy of your room, clutching a pillow to your chest (which has seen more tears in the last two days than in the past three years), deciding that it would be a good idea to go into the city to treat yourself

knowing that your mother has a hair-dresser appointment somewhen today, you go and announce that you would join her to finally buy the latest season of your favorite series

once there, you additionally get microwave popcorn, chocolate, and ice cream, as well as a pretty shirt you saw on a mannequin while window shopping

you feel a lot better after spending some money and ignoring the lingering sadness of your presumable break up with Kyoutani (who you love ok, it is not that easy)

In between your stops, you meet Iwaizumi and Oikawa munching on fatty burgers (celebrating your cheat days like a holiday and indulging in whatever your heart desires, is what makes it easier to stick with healthier habits the rest of the time was the questionable explanation coming from the brown-haired setter, pointing at you with a soggy potato fry)

after a moment, the setters eyes turn sad, a frown replacing the smile on his lips

he wraps his fingers around your wrist to stop you from going just yet, apologizing for being the cause of your fight and for being unable to talk some sense into him

(you assure him that it is not his fault, knowing that your friend will probably brood over it otherwise, which wouldn't be fair)

Iwaizumi adds that Kyoutani will come around and that his cooldown time is just longer than those of other people (and if not, he will give him one of his famous volleyballs to the head and use his status as only truly respected senpai to talk some sense into him) but you again decline their suggestions

after saying goodbye (and seeing Iwaizumi give his best friend an assuring gentle pat on his shoulder, the secret softy in the usual harsh ace shining through)

If Kentaro was willing...able to throw away your relationship this easily, he can't possibly really love you, and you'd accept this even if it's hard and painful

Now remembered of what you had attempted to forget about, you feel your eyes sting with unshed tears (you thought there was no possibility of you having more tears to spill, yet the impossible seemed to be the case) you look down at your phone to text your mom and frown

Kentaro 🥰: we need to talk. Kentaro 🥰: meet me there [location]

For a second, you hesitate, biting your lower lip harshly…you really want to go and talk to him but…

The tears still sting in your eyes and blurring your view reminded you of what you had gone through the whole time, and that it was his turn to finally come to you

break up or makeup, the ball was in his court now

so while walking to where your mother would be waiting for you, you begin to type

You: No.

You: I waited for you all week, even though you ignored me, and now you expect me to run the moment you choose to stop being a childish idiot?

You: if you decide to speak to me then comqjdkn

Kentarou wouldn't say he feels particularly bad. Not at all! If someone was to ask him, he would probably answer fucking peachy, what the fuck are you asking for or growl angrily. No one would bat an eye and further question him, nor guess that maybe he wasn't as great as he pretended because he missed his gorgeous better half, but…it was his fault, wasn't it?

Of course, he originally thought he had a valid reason to be upset. And if he had just spoken to you about it, everything would be solved now. Instead of being a decent boyfriend, though, his pride overtook his thinking processes once he realized that his behavior wasn't even the slightest bit justified. Not that he knew this when he saw you speaking with Shittykawa right before school. All he could see was his gorgeous s/o shyly fiddling with her fingers, conversing with a leaned forward, very involved Oikawa Tooru. He would have fetched you away from the brown-haired setter. He had no qualms about showing his possessiveness. God, Kentarou wouldn't have hesitated to growl at the tall, brown-haired boy if not for the question he heard coming from the Captain.

''Y/N-chan, how is it that you, an adorable, charming individuum, is with a brute like Mad Dog-chan? I really-'' Well, that's where he decided to leave you with the setter. He didn't need to hear your answer. Didn't want to witness an excuse or maybe the truth. If both of you were so fucking smitten with each other to flirt this blatantly, why don't you just go and cheer for him, hold his hand, and kiss his cheek goodbye? It was his choice to distance himself.

Kyoutani couldn't help the feeling of betrayal and hurt washing over him. Maybe you just used him as a stepping stone to get closer with Oikawa, and Kyoutani has been too blind to see it. He never doubted you or your relationship before, but it's not a secret how eruptive Kyoutani could be. It has always been beyond his imagination how someone so cute and sweet like you could love a person like him. Your friends thought so. The teachers. The whole school! Everyone questioned your poor judgment. And when you came running up to him, you're cheery voice calling out for him, everyone present looked at you like you grew a second head. It's the reason why seeing you with Trashykawa ticked him off so bad. It catered to his biggest insecurities and fears. He knew that all those skeptics would be delighted to see you, everyone's darling, with the schools' star setter. They all would agree that the pretty, handsome young man is a better fit than the always hostile-looking troublemaker.

While Kyoutani didn't take Oikawa seriously in most cases, he undoubtedly was one of the most devoted people Kentarou had ever met. If Oikawa wanted to get a new serve right, he wouldn't stop trying and repeating it until his legs gave in, and Iwaizumi dragged him out of the gym. When he wanted to find more advanced players to practice with, so he could, in return, give this new knowledge to his team, there was no way he would not manage to make it happen. Even if his ideas, wishes, and plans cost him blood, sweat, and tears (like getting Kyoutani to actually train), Oikawa never backed down. Kentarou had heard that Oikawa's last girlfriend dumped him because of his passion for Volleyball. Yet Kyoutani couldn't help but think that, in you, the ambitious setter would have found someone that would be able to handle it. You usually came over to watch the team when you knew that Kyoutani was there to play. You sat on the stands with your homework in your lap and a Seijoh-coloured pencil wiggling between your fingers, not bothered by the noises coming from the court. You play with your earlobe while you frown at whatever problem you came across. You patiently wait for practice to finish. Kentarou was sure that you'd be someone Oikawa would actually try for. You weren't one of his squealing fangirls, hanging from his arm on every opportunity, but his friend. You didn't pester him to take selfies with you while pushing cute bentos into his hands. When you bring food to practice, then it's for the whole team to share. If he wanted you, Oikawa would probably have to win you over and make sure that you'd stay. Courting and all that jazz. In all seriousness, Shittykawa would be a fucking idiot if not.

The dyed-blond wing spiker had been so sure that he was rightfully mad that he didn't stop to think twice before he reacted this coldly towards you. But, and this made it even worse, Kentarou knew that he was wrong the moment you asked what happened after an entire week of enduring his silent treatment. The second he heard your shaky voice and saw the tears welling up in your eyes, his brain rebooted, and suddenly he wasn't so sure of his own reasoning. You two were together for about half a year. Kyoutani - by now - was confident in his ability to identify most of your expressions. All he could decipher in your eyes was pain, paired with a need to understand, but…if he was in the wrong…it would mean that he had hurt you the whole week, which in conclusion implied that Kentarou had been the world's shittiest boyfriend. Fuck, he thought, I don't deserve y/n.

His situation didn't get any better the moment Oikawa entered the gym. The person Kyoutani thought he had a real reason to despise now tried to mend the rift between the two of you.

''Mad Dog-chan, I think you misunderstood something there. Well, no, you decided to not listen-'' The taller male says, hands gesturing wildly. While his voice still had that annoyingly cheery tone, it had something commanding hidden underneath. And oh, how Kentarou hated when someone demanded something of him, even if it was for his own good. ''Don't want to hear it.'' the blond mutters, already aggravated. The brown-haired setter resolutely puts himself in the way again. ''Oh, but you have to! That morning, Y/N-chan literally declared her love for yo-'' - ''I don't fucking care.'' Kentarou barks, not looking Oikawa in the eyes.

After another fruitless attempt to get properly into the gym, he growls and turns to leave. Already on his way to grab his stuff and take a leave, he hears Oikawa yelling. ''You answered and justified why I asked Y/N-chan to begin with!" And then louder, even though he could make out Iwaizumi trying to wrestle his childhood friend back into the gym, "APOLOGIZE, YOU IDIOT! YOU BETTER GROVEL FOR Y/N'S FORGIVENESS! THEY DESERVE BETTER THAN THIS SHOW YOU'RE PUTTING ON, AND YOU KNOW IT!"

This happened on Friday evening, and the guilt was gnawing away on him ever since. On his way home, Kyoutani had automatically taken the detour to your house. Kentarou enjoyed bringing you home (and more often than not, you pulled him inside with you, making him cuddle you!). It makes him feel like a good boyfriend, and he knew that you arrived there safely. He would never tell anybody and deny it if you ever decided to share this, but Kentarou relished in the feeling of your hand holding his all the way while going on about your day. He admired that you'd pet every cat and every dog you meet on the trip home together with him. You were perfect for him…why again did he act like this?

What caused Kyoutani's attempt to apologize - in his usual overly blunt and partly aggressive kind of way - was Yahaba, though. Both boys denied being remotely something beyond 'not really enemies'. But his future team captain was definitely one of the very few people that could and would tell him to his face that he fucked up without real repercussions. He would presumably even help Kyoutani to get it together.

After Yahaba had called you and listened to your heartbreaking rant, the setter realized that you, his friend, and his 'not really enemy' needed to talk ut out. Totally immersed in your tirade, you accidentally let slip that you couldn't endure Kyoutani's treatment any longer. That being pushed over by your boyfriend with brash and hurtful words after handling the cold shoulder was too much. That you expected Kyoutani to break up with you on Monday either way. In-person, if he had mercy on you or continue his treatment as a silent method of doing so. While you told Yahaba about your planned ''get over it-self-care'' weekend (involving tons of ice cream, movies with crying guarantee, lots of blankets, and no smartphone), the setter had already put on his jacket, shooting a message to Kyoutani.

From Yahaba: get your stupid fucking ass outside to meet me, or I'll bench you the complete season next year

Even though the wing spiker was sure that Yahaba's words were nothing but empty words, Kentarou allowed himself to accept this threat as an excuse to put his pride aside. Because, even though Yahaba annoyed him to no end - not as bad as Oikawa but still - Kentarou was also aware that you and he were friends. If someone could help him gaining your forgiveness, Kyoutani had to accept and admit that it was Yahaba. Meeting his light brown-haired teammate was kind of awkward. Kyoutani was unsure what he had to expect, though he should have seen the rough treatment coming. Yet, getting told that you, the person Kentarou was undeniably in love with, felt so neglected and hurt that you deemed this relationship to be as good as over allowed the guilt monster in his chest to grow. Shitty Oikawa was probably right ordering him to grovel and beg on his knees for you to even hear him out.

Your answer to his message was partly unlike you. Well, the last sentence. You usually were pretty forward with him to avoid miscommunication and uncalled-for moping around. And while you sometimes send keyboard smashes to express the chaos you felt, they were always in a separate message and not so…random. The text definitely meant something like ''then come to me'' but somehow, Kyoutani had an uneasy feeling about the whole thing.

Besides, he couldn't just wait till Monday and hope that you'd accept his apology! You may send him away today already, but he still had a teeny-tiny bit of hope. If he let the thoughts of him leaving you or the other way around fester in your mind for two whole days, though,…you'd probably realize that leaving him wasn't that bad of a decision. You'd come to the conclusion that all your admirers could treat you better than Kyoutani did. And he was too selfish to let you leave. Even though all he did the whole week was being self-centered and stuck up, he would be damned to begin being a saint now and let you go. That you at least were willing to talk to him was…a relief, to say the least. Kentarou hoped that this translated to you being willing to put up with him a little longer if he apologized correctly. That you're not opposed to giving him another chance to make things right.

At your house, he was greeted with darkness. Not even a single light illuminating any of the rooms he could see from his spot on your front lawn. And the ones he saw were your and your mom's most-used rooms. Your room window, your mothers' workroom, and the living room area with an adjacent kitchen. All of those rather significant rooms and the lack of light in them seemed to be a dead giveaway for Kyoutani that no one was home. Kyoutani guessed that you were probably out with your mom, glancing over to the empty spot in front of the garage.

Oh god, your mother had been the only supportive person of your relationship. Maybe it's in your family to see the best in everyone, even in shitty people like him. But if you told her about his behavior, she'd most likely not welcome him with a smile ever again, no matter if you forgave him.

There weren't many things Kyoutani could do in this situation, but it wasn't as late as nature let it on, and after a few seconds, he had decided to sit down at the front door and wait for you, hoping that it wouldn't take too long for you to come home. As if fate wanted to tell him something, the wing spiker had put on the jacket with the half-full power bank. He had worn it to the shelter when he visited it this week while distracting himself from your absence in his daily life. You had gifted him the piece of clothing, which is probably why he unconsciously had decided to wear it to everything he did after school in the first place.

Kentarou passed the time by snarling at people eyeing him for a moment too long to not be judgmental, petting the neighbors' cat wandering over to him, and watching videos. Every time he thought ''Y/N would like this'', his heart stuttered guilty.

To Kentarou, it felt like an eternity until your mother's car finally drove up the entry. To avoid your mother's potentially deadly stare, he nervously checked his mobile, realizing that he had waited for a little more than 3 hours. Yet, the wait had done nothing to soothe his nerves. They instantly spiked up again while his heart threatened to jump out of his throat.

She will hate me. Your mother would hate me, she'll hate me, she'll ha-

''Ah, Ken-chan! Good evening.'' Your mother greets him with a tired, yet still gentle smile. Oh. The blond blanches. He'd never admit it, but he enjoyed the treatment he received from your mother more than he should. Being spoken to without suspicion and receiving a warm smile every time without fail was a welcome change to his daily life. Your mother didn't listen to people trying to bad-mouth him. To her, he simply was the boy that - normally - treats her child the way a mother wished for. Even if he pulled a face as long as a fiddle.

''I didn't know you were coming, Ken-chan, or I would have messaged you…but now that you're here, maybe you can assist us out and help Y/N inside? It would help a lot.'' His gaze immediately flitted over to you on the passenger seat. With your arms crossed in front of your chest and that stubborn but endearingly cute pout on your lips, he nearly missed the tiredness your body emitted. Kentarou wanted to rush over to your side immediately but was stopped by your mother again. ''I don't know what you two are fighting about…but please talk to each other. I don't want my baby to be this sad. Especially now, and…'' she rests a hand on his shoulder, her eyes kind and comforting ''…I also don't want to miss you here, alright?'' He stiffly nodded and watched your mother carrying in plastic bags filled with various medicine packages and food.

After coming back to his senses, Kyoutani finally stumbled over to your side, practically ripping open the car door. This new perspective revealed a plaster cast wrapping your whole left leg and a removable wrist brace on your right hand. ''Bab- Y/N…what the fuck…happened?'' His honey-brown eyes continued to wander over your injuries, and with every second, he found more. Scratches and scrapes, bandaids and bandages peeking out from underneath your clothes. ''I'm so sorry,'' he whispered, hanging his head low.

All your intentions to fight his helping hand and limp over to the door by yourself disintegrated into nothing. You never witnessed such a devastated, beaten expression on his face before. Instead, you settle for ''Will you help me?''. A question asked quietly to your fingers picking at a loose band-aid edge on your arm and pressing it back onto the irritated skin.

After you loosened your seatbelt, he waits for you to carefully place your arms around his neck. It is followed by Kyoutani lifting you out of the car so gently as if he was afraid you might break. This whole situation in itself already contradicting his brash appearance and usual behavior. It would give whiplash to all the people pretending to know him. But he was always caring in his own way when it came to you. It's why you loved him after all. Because you usually knew that he loved you, too.

For a few moments, the atmosphere between the two of you felt awkwardly tense, both of you unsure how to interact with each other. The mostly blonde wing spiker breathed out a sigh of relief when you fully leaned into his chest once he stood upright, resting your head against his shoulder. A bit of maneuvering through the front door eventually lead to Kyoutani passing through the hallway and taking you to your room, where he was gently lowering you down on the bed.

It was a now or never kind of situation. For the both of you. While Kentarou was trying to find out where to begin his apology, he took a few steps back in case you wanted space until everything was cleared up.

You unconsciously helped him making a decision by impulsively grasping onto his shirt the moment he started to withdraw, stopping him in his retreating movement. Kentarou saw your lower lips wobbling, teary eyes looking up at him pleadingly.

''Please stay,'' you say weakly, which is enough for him to throw the whole thinking process away and simply sit down next to you, intertwining both your hands. ''I'm staying. I'm not leaving. Not now nor this relationship if you still want...an ''us''. The wing spiker took a deep, shuttering breath. '' I'm sorry, Y/N…'' he finally manages to say, honey eyes locked onto your linked your hands. ''I have been fucking stupid all week. 've been a fucking terrible boyfriend, the worst to ever exist.''

As if to encourage him...to show your boyfriend that his apology was not for nothing, you shuffled around until the last bit of distance between the two of you was closed. You hum, acknowledging his words while leaning your head on his shoulder.

''I didn't think you're cheating or something, …'' Kyoutani immediately assures you. There was no way he would allow you to think that he would accuse you of something like this. ''I had no reason to be jealous, but I was insecure. Let it get the best of me. Despite our promise to communicate, I was sulking. 't was easier. I'll do whatever the fuck you want for you to not give up yet…'' he says, taking his time with every sentence.

With a sigh, you squeeze his hand. ''It will probably take a lot of cuddling and attention from you...'' you say thoughtfully ''...but I forgive you…if you promise to not do this again…'' you murmur, tilting your head upward to press a chaste kiss to his jaw. ''Otherwise, I'll accept Iwaizumi-san's offer to get your thinking process restarted.'' For a moment, your voice had its usual joking edge. But you knew talking out everything was necessary. ''But, in all honesty, 'Tarou....please, never do this again. I am honest. I will not endure this a second time. When you tell me that you need a day or two for yourself then that is totally fine. If you feel yourself giving into whatever insecurity, talk to me about it. I am sure there will be an explanation or a solution but don't leave me in the dark. Don't treat me like that. I love you. Only you and no one else. But the time love can withstand straight-up ignorance by your partner is limited.''

Slowly, your boyfriend nodded, squeezing your hand to tell you that he understood. You would probably cling to him for a while but were sure that he would survive the extra closeness. Not even half a second later, his head leans onto yours cautiously.

''…and try being nicer to Oikawa-san, Tarou, he hasn't done anything to you.'' You add humorously before small giggles started to erupt from your lips. ''Also...Baby…'' you start, being interrupted by choked-up hiccups and giggles. By using your nickname for him, you take away another persistent fear of his. What he does not miss, however, is how you wince in pain before you continue, ''…who helped you put this into words? I mean…I loved it, but…,'' You leave unsaid that words usually are not his strong fort.

Biting back a smile, he frowns, huffs, and puffs…, but the way you are looking up at him, eyes shining with relief and adoration, allows him to admit defeat. He sighs ''…it's how Yahaba said I should say it…'' It usually would be an odd enough statement to make you throw yourself all over him with laugher. As a slight replacement, you squeeze his hand a bit, still shaking with suppressed laughter. ''I promise…that I will talk to you. Can't promise the Shittykawa part.'' Another soft chuckle leaves your lips before you look up at him again. ''I hope you try nonetheless. You should not let Iwaizumi-san hear you calling Oikawa-san that, though, I don't think this would turn out well for you…so...maybe stop this at least.'' Kentarou rolls his eyes at you, but in the end, he nods.

You wait for another second to clearly distinguish the two topics before you continue. ''…Thank you…for coming and finally speaking with me instead of break-'' A hand on your lips muffles your words.

''Don't say these words. I'd never break up with you,'' Kentarou grumbles, a light, uncharacteristic light pink settling on his cheeks. You stick your tongue out, which leads to him taking his hand off of your face with a surprised noise, rather dumbfounded that you had licked his hand. It gives you the chance to lean up and finally press your lips against his. ''I'm not leaving you either,'' you murmur, feeling his lips twitch upwards slightly. You decide to leave the teasing for another day.

Moving back into your previous position was enough of a hassle to hiss in pain. It brought back Kyoutani's awareness of the second problem at hand. ''What did happen to you?'' Kyoutani asks in an attempt to tamper down the excited, happy beating of his heart.

''Oh, this...uh, when I answered your text, I got driven over by a dude on a bicycle,'' you casually drop. It was kind of entertaining to watch his expressions change at an unequaled pace while processing your words. In the end, it settled into something akin to passive-aggressive worry. The way he was immediately fretting over you while cursing and cussing out the bicycle dude was his own way of caring. As you watch him retrieving the food your mother bought, while mumbling about how you're a dumbass for not paying attention to your surroundings, how he'd come over every day until you could go to school again to bring and teach you the stuff you would miss and how he would fucking murder the bicycle idiot if he ever finds out who dared to drive you over, you can't help the smile forming on your lips.

Once again, you are proven that loving him - while occasionally troublesome and demanding - was everything but wrong.

[sub-hoshi-enthusiast]

I'm still not writing for bts anymore but I just wanted to get these few requests out cause I don't wanna be a bitch and make these people wait so long for something and then have me say "sorry lol I don't wanna do it anymore 🙃" but anyways this is for @babyboytae1 so I hope you like it (even tho you requested it like eons ago and I only just now made it-)

Making BTS Cum in Their Pants

Jin

     In the moment, Jin would find this incredibly hot. The fact that you have so much power over him you can make him cum in his pants like an over excited teenager drives him nuts. His favorite thing is when you don't actually touch him, but just tease him with your words as he desperately ruts against your thigh, a pillow, or anything else you've given him permission to use. You'd be sitting on the couch trying to watch a movie when he comes up to you all hot and bothered, so you just keep staring at the screen while lightly patting your thigh and he gets the message. He'd be grinding against your thigh,whimpering and moaning into your ear and if he tried to take his pants off for some better friction you'd just look at him and say something like "Did I give you permission to do that doll?" And he just shakes his head with a high pitched whimper while speeding up the movement of his hips. From time to time you'd look over at him with a "Is that the best you can do?" or "Look at you doll, so desperate to cum you're using my leg when you could just be jerking off somewhere." Your simple words bring him to the edge faster than he thought they would so he starts begging for his release, hips stuttering as he waits for your reply. When finally told to cum his eyes roll back in his head as he cums all within the confines of his underwear. He'd sit there for a bit before he starts complaining about how he'll have to do the laundry again even though he just did it (I want Jin as my housewife ok, sue me) but he knows he'd do it again in a heartbeat if you asked him to.

Yoongi

     If it's just in his jeans or any other regular clothes he had worn for the day I don't really think he'd mind. He loves to make sure that you're enjoying yourself and if him cumming in his pants makes that happen then so be it. He'l be damned, however, if you try to make him do it in pretty clothes he's bought to dress all cute for you. If he's wearing lingerie or a pretty skirt/dress he's found at a store just for you, he's not going to let you ruin it just because you're horny. If you guys are in the foreplay section of the night and you have him grinding all up on you in a pretty pink skirt he wore with a nice white set of lingerie and you tell him to keep it on while he cums he'll just glare at you before ranting about how much it cost and how embarrassing it was for him to go get it and wasn't going to put himself through that again so you can just take what's been handed to you. You'll just giggle at him with a quiet apology as you press a kiss to his lips and carefully undress him before going on with the night you have planned. Sometimes you'll just bring it up as a joke because you have to admit his little rants are pretty darn cute since he talks with a pout on his lips.

Hoseok

     Hoseok is very loud and very sensitive so you just have to play with him out in public, what monster wouldn't? So you have definitely made him cum in his pants more times than he could count. In changing rooms, bathroom stalls, even a little ways down an alleyway close to your home when it was dark enough. He's in heaven when you push him up against a wall, looking him in the eyes as you mutter all the dirty things you wanna do to him while rubbing him through the front of his pants. Just that is enough to make him cum. The thought of someone stumbling upon you two and seeing how weak and pathetic he becomes under your touch makes him go crazy. Realistically you've taken precautions to assure that wouldn't happen but the thought is a turn on nonetheless. Long story short- make him cum in his pants in public. If you make him walk around for a bit with his release almost staining the front of his pants (don't worry, you give him a long hoodie or shirt so no one could see it unless they were looking for it) he would be willing to go another round as soon as you got home.

Namjoon

     Oh my goodness I've been waiting for this one!! Could you imagine? Making the leader of one of the most widely known groups in the world do something so dirty?? Yes please 🤤! He can look so calm and collected to everyone else but he'll be on his knees humping your leg with his pants still on in a heartbeat if you asked him to. Now that's a pretty picture. The leader of BTS pathetically humping your leg like a mutt, not caring if he ruins the clothes he has on. Even better if you force him to wear them a little while longer into the session, taunting him about what a dirty boy he is and letting him feel his release seeping through his pants and sticking to his legs. Y'know what I think I've thought about this a little too much-

Jimin

     Jimin is the kinkiest little bitch, as we all know, so he's down for anything you wanna do to him. He is really into humiliation though so if you make him cum in his pants and then sneer at him while telling him what a pathetic whore he is for getting off so quickly he will become hard as a rock again in seconds. It's not like it's something he would do unless you told him to do so, but he does still enjoy it to a certain degree. The humiliation factor? 10/10 would do it again just to hear you insult him, but he finds it a little uncomfortable after a while with his release sticking to his legs. He does prefer to stay pretty clean for the most part and doesn't like the feeling of cum on his skin. Unless of course you wanna cum on his face, then he's all for that. 

Taehyung

     Our sweet puppy Taehyung :,). I honestly don't really think he'd like it that much. It's sticky and uncomfortable and like hell he'd let you ruin his expensive ass pants. That shit's probably Gucci so I don't know about you but I couldn't replace that in a million years. He's also just a sweet boy who wants your praise so the humiliation factor isn't too appealing to him either. The only way I could really see him enjoying getting his release on his clothes is if he cums on his stomach or something and you wipe it up with his underwear and then shove it in his mouth as a makeshift gag as you fuck him. Other than that, ruining his clothes is a no go. 

Jungkook

     Our sweet baby boy is all for experimentation with you. If there is absolutely anything you'd wanna try out with his all you'd have to do is say the word. I think with this situation it would be more like J-Hope in the sense he would love for you to make a mess of him out in public. Making him walk around the rest of the day in his ruined jeans that would probably be more visible that J-Hope's cause Kookie does tend to wear tight jeans most of the time (which is honestly probably why you felt the need to pull him aside and take care of him cause damn those thighs) unless he's wearing sweatpants which still wouldn't help his case. But that's really the only time I think he'd cum in his pants. He doesn't really see the need to do it at home since there are so many other options but if you're out in public he's always down.

[violetcancerian]

Encanto Analysis from your local Mexican-Salvadoran

Warnings: War mention, war brutality, gore, abuse, trauma, mental health 

So here it is, and I am going to put the body of the post under the cut. Y’all please keep in mind, this is my own take on the movie, whatever thing you took from Encanto is yours, but I wanted to put my little grain of salt here.

So from what we know about the town and how the Madrigals came to have their miracle and Casita, it was through Abuelo Pedro’s sacrifice to protect Alma and the triplets (Bruno, Julieta, and Pepa). We clearly see a huge conflict going on in Abuela Alma’s story to 5 year old Mirabel in the beginning, and of course, since it is being told to a 5 year old, it is watered down and simplified, when we get to the river and Dos Oruguitas scene, we see a more clear image of said conflict go on, and we see the source of Alma’s trauma, and how that trauma that she suffered passes down to her children (the scene of her walking down the hall of doors with Bruno looking at her all nervous) and her grandchildren (we see Isabela straighten up and Luisa hold a heavy sack also looking nervous), and Alma barely blinking to register they’re there. 

This movie first and foremost deals with the trauma caused in Latin American countries during the 20th century through war and conflict (based on the type of clothing the Madrigals and the townspeople have), and how that trauma passes down through generations, thus breaking the foundations of a family and home when the trauma is unresolved. 

I am not saying headcanons are not good and one shouldn’t do them, but please do not overlook the fact that this movie deals with war and generational trauma and breaking those cycles. 

As the title suggests, I am obviously not Colombian, but I do have a family member that has suffered through war trauma, who has not addressed it, and has therefore allowed said trauma to seep into the new generations (my brothers and I). So I got the message that the movie was getting across in my own personal way. 

This amazing blog gives an outstanding explanation on the background of Colombia’s history and how it relates to Encanto.

My father was born in El Salvador sometime in the 70s, so his whole life he saw the horrors of war by the military power of the country and the conflict of this same power with the guerrilla and the country's people in the midst of the Salvadoran Civil War. He never outwardly spoke of this to my brothers and I, but we would find out anyway later on (I’ll get to that later). 

So much like with Alma and Pedro, they saw this conflict slowly arise in their town (to my understanding, based on a lot of analysis videos and my own quick research, what Alma and Pedro were living through was La Violencia). They are forced to flee their home and leave behind all their belongings, not just them, but people sticking with them to escape all this violence and conflict, and Alma’s world is shattered when Pedro sacrifices himself to give her and the triplets a chance for a better life. 

In my father’s case, jumping back to El Salvador in the 70s and 80s of his childhood and teenage years, by the time a young man would be old enough to hold a gun, they would be recruited by the military, this is shown in the movie I did a project on (Voces Inocentes “Innocent Voices”) last semester and I did not know that it would impact me so much just like Encanto did, it is a good movie to watch, but note and be warned of the violence and strong language. So what did my grandmother do? She would lock my father and my uncle in the house so they would not be taken away while she went to work. She would have a neighbor slip them food through the window, she would hit my father with wires for sneaking out past curfew because raids and armed conflict usually happened in the late hours of the night between the guerilla and the military (he still has the scars on his arms from those beatings). 

Schools would be a center of violence, places of mass shootings, so the youth, what is supposed to be the future of a generation and life, was taken away from a very early age. 

As mentioned, my father never talked about this, and I only know this from a secondhand source (my mother) in the times he would talk or if he was drunk enough to talk. He mentioned to my brother once, and keep in  mind, my brother was of no age to hear this, that a young girl was caught by the military, taken to the public plaza, and cut open from the bottom up with a machete, just to be a warning to the people, and to show the “power” of the military in the area. To install fear where there was already digging deep like roots. 

So much like how Alma was with the Encanto/town, my father was when he arrived in the US as a political refugee, hoping for a new life, but still carrying the weight of the trauma they had suffered without addressing it. We have a saying “borron y cuenta nueva” (erase and new account), and while that could be applied for good, with something as traumatic as a war-filled childhood or witnessing the death of a loved one, it is not that easy to simply erase. 

Alma addressed it by enforcing strict perfection and happiness, worried and scared that the miracle, the casita, the family would all disappear and crumble again like it did in her youth without realizing that it was already happening, in trying to keep the town and the family safe and not repeat the past, she was essentially breaking the foundations of a house and home, putting too much pressure and expectations. 

My father did the same, imposing strict rules, perfection, isolation. Trying to make a perfect home life and not realizing he was doing the same thing his mother had done to him, thus leading to a lot of physical, emotional, and verbal abuse from him to us. In a sense becoming what he wanted to leave behind. Much like with Alma when Mirabel did not get her gift, pushing the odd ones (in Encanto it would be Mirabel and Bruno) away when they did not fit into the plan, he pushed us all apart to the point where, much like with the relationship between Isabela and Mirabel, the family with Bruno, my brothers and I could not STAND being in each others’ presence. 

The trauma suffered (in these two cases being due to war and loss) by the adults of course does not excuse their treatment towards the people around them, but the fact that Abuela Alma addresses it with Mirabel at the river in the Dos Oruguitas scene gave the story room and power to rebuild from there with better understanding, better communication, and it took off some load that not only Alma carried, but everyone else in the family did as well. 

Mirabel was breaking generational trauma, but the root of it was Alma realizing that she was the one broken and needed help in talking about it. It is not always easy, but at its core, that was what I felt was the main meaning of the film. The magic is in the community, in the close family, in the step to heal from such horrid events. Many of us don’t ever get that and the journey to heal relies on just us. Things such as these are not often seen in Latino households because of the mentality of the strong matriarch/patriarch/head of the family. 

Encanto is beautiful and rich, to bring back what I said in the beginning, please do not overlook the fact that this movie deals with war and generational trauma and breaking those cycles because at its core, that is what gives weight to the movie, the movie is centered around family, and as the line “we need a new foundation” suggests, build from the ground up, not necessarily “erase and new account”, but even with the imperfections, still strive to do better, despite the imperfections, learning from past mistakes.  

[the7thcrow]

indulgence | part one

~

pairing: felix x (fem) vampire!reader series

summary: an indulgence grows to become dangerous, as the society of hampden college takes note of y/n’s new blood bag.

series masterlist.

word count: 4.9k

genre: forbidden love, angst (sorta), fluff, suggestive.

warnings: blood, suggestive content (kissing and a shirt comes off, nothing too crazy lmao), hook-ups (but nothing is explicitly described), strong language, and vampires ofc.

rating: 16+

a/n: hi everyone! this is my first fic, so i’m sorry if it’s a little messy. this is part one of what will be a series. i’d love to hear some feedback, so don’t be afraid to shoot me an ask or message! i hope you enjoy!

...

..

.

You are late. The pattering of rain echos from atop your umbrella, the puddles of pooling water soaking your loafers as you hurry along the busy street. However, you pay no mind as the liquid seeps into your shoes, mud embedding itself along your pant leg. On a normal day, you’d scowl. You’d curse the shitty weather, and grumble as you marched home to change into a dry pair of shoes. Only today is different. Today it doesn’t matter, not when you have far greater troubles warranting your concern.

The Council isn’t pleased. They’d be even more upset, if that were even possible, if you arrived tardy. You can imagine their old, petulant faces, looking down on you with disgust. Perhaps even pity, seeing you as nothing more than a childish young girl, who’d been foolish enough to break her vow. You frown to yourself, that’s all they would ever see you as. It didn’t matter how the years passed by, to them you were, and would always be simply that. A child. Always younger, always naive. Most of all, always beneath them.

The headquarters becomes visible in the distance, clouded in the slight haze of fog. It appears to be like any other building on the Hampden Campus. Old and rustic, elegant in the way it was shaped and carved, a relic of history reflected in a modern day era. Only this building holds a far different tale than those surrounding it.

Far more bloody. Far more gruesome. A home to monsters.

Monsters like yourself.

You knock on the door. Twice, slowly. Then a pause, before three times quickly. A code, letting anyone inside know that you are, in fact, a member of The Society. 

The door opens with a creak, a young boy with electric blue hair peeking out through the crack. After recognizing your face, he smiles, ushering you in quickly as the door slams shut behind you.

“Y/N! It’s good to see you. It’s been a while, huh?” The boy says, casually leaning against the door. It has been a while, you never came to this god awful building unless it was absolutely necessary.

“I guess it has been. But it’s nice to see you too, Jeongin,” you speak warmly in return. You’ve known Jeongin for a couple years now, since he first arrived at The Society doorstep. Alone and confused. A freshling, having just been turned. While perhaps not physically, he’s certainly grown since then, in both confidence and courage.

Suddenly, the smile drops from his face, his expression becoming sullen. “I hear you’ve gotten yourself into some trouble,” he states. When you don’t respond, he continues. “It’s not true, is it? I know you wouldn’t-”

“Listen, Jeongin,” you cut him off quickly. You aren’t in the mood to be lectured, especially not by someone whose opinion you actually care about. “I’m already running late. I’ll catch up with you after, okay?”

“Wait, Y/N!” He calls after you, but you’ve already disappeared down the hall, heading towards the council room. You quickly cast a glance at your watch. Shit, five minutes late. They wouldn’t forget that.

With only a quick breath to gather yourself, you burst in through the large wooden doors. The silence in the council room is deafening, as all heads turn to face you. In all your life, you’ve never seen so many dissatisfied faces. 

“Ms. L/N,” the head councilman calls. He has an old face, embedded with wrinkles and a scalp of thinning white hair. Unlucky. He could have been beautiful, or at the very least, young. However, he must’ve been turned late. A pity, to stare at such a reflection for eternity. 

You stifle a laugh. The frown he always appeared to be wearing probably wasn’t helping. 

“Take a seat,” he states, motioning to the chair seated in the center of the room. How dramatic you think, to put you in the middle of so many staring eyes. While the council was only composed of three individuals, the room seems to be full of other lower ranked members of The Society. 

As you take your seat, your gaze wanders the room, landing on a familiar head of shaggy brown hair. His eyes bore into your own, his expression serious. Perhaps even angry, the longer he stares at you. 

You want to say something. Mostly, to ask him what the fuck he’s doing here. This isn’t any of Chan’s business, yet for whatever reason he has the audacity to stare at you as if it is. As if you will grant him answers. As if he deserves answers.

“Ms. L/N,” the chairman interrupts your thoughts. “Do you know why you’re seated here today?” 

Why are you seated here today? Well, that answer is complicated. How could you have possibly gotten yourself into such a mess? How could you have been so foolish? You knew the rules. You knew what was permitted and what was not. Yet, you chose to ignore these conditions.

Why? What could possibly have made you toss everything you’d promised to the side? 

Well, that story starts with a head of bright blonde hair, and a set of curious eyes.

~~~~

The library of Hampden College had become something of a second home to you. Late nights spent bent over a book, transcribing various philosophies and literature into latin. Sometimes greek, however you didn’t have quite the same knack for it. That’s where you found yourself tonight, your beaten down copy of The Iliad staring back at you from its place on the table. 

Your classics degree was coming along just fine. You didn’t mind the endless books to read and poems to analyze. Nor the papers you often found yourself crafting from this very spot in the corner of the library. It was always quiet, always solitary at this time. Even the night owl students having gathered their books, departing the library for a brief rest before their early classes the following morning.

Tonight however, was different. You heard the door creak open, glancing up as a boy appeared in the doorway. He had long blonde hair, fluffing at the nape of his neck. Sporting a sharp blazer and a pair of oxfords, you couldn’t deny he was well dressed. Perhaps that’s why he grabbed your attention immediately, you were attracted to effort. To someone who was put together, who cared. 

The boy took a seat just a few tables away from your own, gently setting his books down and disappearing into the maze of shelves to your left. You attempted to go back to your work, but couldn’t seem to find your focus. Who was this boy? You’d never seen him before in all your time at Hampden. Also, why would he possibly be at the library so late? You recognized the faces of those who while rare, might possibly be here at this time of night. He wasn’t one of them. 

You would remember if he was.

You strained your neck trying to find his figure, having lost him almost immediately.

“A fan of Homer?” A voice rang out from beside your ear. You jumped in shock, greeted by a sweet smile and wide eyes. The boy chuckled. “I’m sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

You smiled sweetly, trying to calm your beating heart. “No worries. And well, you translate the entirety of Book Eight overnight into Greek, and tell me if you could still consider yourself a ‘fan of Homer.’”

The boy laughed before beginning to pull a chair out beside you. “May I?” He asked.

Looking back, you should have said no. You had a lot more work to do, and near no time to do it. Not to mention of course, rejecting him initially could have saved you from this whole mess. Instead you nodded, a grin forming at the corners of your lips as he sat down. 

“What’s your name?” He asked. His voice was sweet, sultry. Alarming in just how deep it was, not quite fitting his bright and youthful exterior. 

“Y/N, classics department. Yourself?”

“Felix,” he answered. There it was, the first time you heard the name that would cause your undoing. “I’m majoring in history. Listen,” he began, leaning in slightly closer as if he were going to tell you a secret, his voice lowering further. “I must say, I’m in here all the time, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before.”

You hummed, leaning in closer to him as well. His eyes glinted. “Well that’s simple, I’m assuming you don’t frequent the library at-” you glanced at your watch- “2:32 in the morning.”

Felix’s eyebrows furrowed with something like concern. “You’re here every night at this time? Why?”

“Hey,” you began, not wanting to lose the playful nature to the conversation. You’d heard enough concerned voices to last a lifetime already. “Aren’t you here this late yourself? You’re in no place to judge.”

He laughed, and you knew you could get used to that sound. “Fair enough, I’ll leave it be.”

“Why are you here this late, anyway?” You asked.

“Oh, so you get to know my secrets, but I can’t know yours?”

“Of course.”

He rolled his eyes playfully, resting his head on the desk, cradled by his crossed arms. “If you must know, I couldn’t sleep. Figured I’d read some of your classics, thought they might help me doze off.”

You shoved his arm, to which he feigned a groan of pain, clutching his shoulder. “Excuse you,” you laughed. “I have a lot of Homer to struggle through, and no time for your cheap shots. You can go ahead and leave now.”

You were surprised when he got to his feet, worried for a moment he’d taken you seriously and was actually about to make his exit. Instead, he disappeared into the philosophy section, emerging with a copy of The Odyssey. Felix flopped down back in his chair beside you, extending his feet on top of the table and leaning backwards. 

“Well, then I guess I’ll suffer along with you,” he said. Without another word, he flipped towards the first page.

Felix was a good person to study with. Well, technically you weren’t studying with him, but nonetheless it was nice to have him in the room. He didn’t bother you, didn’t speak, just let you do your work. Sometimes you’d look up and meet his gaze, his eyes imploring you. Curious. Mischievous. 

Dangerous.

“Alright,” you yawned after an hour or so had passed by, stretching your arms high in the air. “I’m done.”

He smiled, slowly closing his book and setting it down on the table. “Yeah? Finally going to go home and sleep?” 

“Sleep? What’s that?” You said, playfully scoffing. “Nah, it’s already past 3:30, it’ll be 4 by the time I get back to my apartment. Not worth it at this point.”

“Hmm,” Felix hummed, a flicker of mischief in his growing smile. “What ever will you do to pass the time?”

“I don’t know,” you returned, excitement building in your chest. “But I suppose I’ll leave you now. You still have about 3 quarters of The Odyssey to get through, and I don’t want to tear you away from-”

You shouldn’t have been surprised when his lips crashed into yours, but you were. You let out a small “mff�� against the sudden impact. It took your brain a second to catch up to speed on what was happening. Here you were, with this incredibly beautiful boy of whom you literally just met, kissing in the middle of the library. 

Your second thought was about how you’d never done this before. Not kissing someone, hell you’d done a lot more than just that. But never a stranger, and certainly never a human, for that matter. You had to be careful with who you got close to, you never knew who could be dangerous, who could be a hunter. Besides, The Society had rules, and this alone was undoubtedly breaking a few of them.

So what the hell were you doing?

You should stop this, you thought. But the more you settled into a rhythm, the more your worries trailed from your mind. Felix was a good kisser. A really good kisser. His lips were soft, warm, his breath sharp with the taste of mint. When the dork had a chance to pop a tic tac you didn’t know, but it made you smile against him. 

You ran your fingers through his hair, leaning into him. He groaned in response, moving his hands down your figure, settling in on your waist. Carefully he began to fiddle with the buttons at the bottom of your blouse, and with that it all suddenly became real.

“We can’t do this,” you breathed, finally breaking away from him. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. I went too far, I-” he began to apologize, frantically removing his hands from your body and shifting backwards into his chair.

“No,” you replied, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips at his sweetness. You grabbed the collar of his shirt, gently tugging him closer to you. “We can’t do this here.” 

The Society had rules, plenty. Human’s, in any sort of relationship, were out of the question. Public displays of affection with even your own kind, especially of the more vulgar sort, were off limits as well. The idea was to not bring attention to yourselves, to not cause a scene. And if you were going to break one of these rules so terribly, you figured you could at least pay the respect to do so privately.

“Okay,” he mumbled, placing his forehead against your own. “Where should we go?”

“My place? It’s a little far from here, but I don’t have any roommates. So..”

Felix smiled, planting a soft, lingering kiss at the nape of your neck. “Lead the way.”

~~~~

The walk over to your apartment wasn’t awkward per say, it was simply...charged. Felix had his arm looped around your own, making your way silently down the dark, lantern lit path through campus. You could feel your heart beating rapidly in your chest, a desire thrumming down inside you, resurfacing. It had been a long time since you’d last been with someone. That last person being Chan, your ex as of eight months ago.

Things had been good with Chan. Great even, in the beginning at least. He was intense, thoughtful. He loved you deeply. Most of all, Chan understood. Like you, he was a member of The Society. He was under every restriction you were, and felt all the same frustrations. 

Of course, not all good things can last. Eventually your relationship began to sour. Your arguments became full on brawls. Your differences and quirks became unbearable. You couldn’t be in the same room without being at one another's throats. You were the one who finally decided to end things. 

Chan was the only man you’d ever loved, and since him you’d never entertained the thought of being with another. Until now, that is. You glanced towards Felix, who was staring ahead down the street, his eyes dark. You could feel his own desire radiating off of him, visible in the way he slowly swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing. Besides, Felix could give you something more. Something Chan could never.

No. You stopped yourself. That wouldn’t be happening tonight. It would only make things more complicated, more dangerous. Still, you could feel it deep inside you, pounding for control. That familiar, incessant hunger. The more you tried to ignore it, the more it was there. Becoming stronger as your ears focused in on Felix’s heart beat, the sound of blood pumping through his veins.

You were pulled from your thoughts as the sight of your apartment complex appeared in front of you. Quietly you entered, making your way up the stairs and towards your own door. Releasing your arm from Felix’s, you fumbled for your keys in your purse. Giving him a small smile, you twisted your key in the lock, and allowed him inside.

The moment you closed your apartment door, all bets were off. Felix tossed his books onto your kitchen table, clashing into you with a speed that almost made you lose your own breath. You felt your back press against the wall behind you, Felix’s lips devouring your own. Desperate and wanting.

He quickly revisited the buttons of your blouse, this time starting at the top and beginning to make his way down. All the meanwhile his lips traced your neck, gently brushing against your skin. With every new kiss fueling your own desire, you slowly began to rock your hips into his own. This was escalating. Fast. As he finished with the last button, he allowed your blouse to drop from your shoulders, smiling to himself as he took you in. 

“Your turn,” you breathed, tugging at the collar of his shirt as a signal to take it off. He did so, absent-mindedly tossing it aside into your living room. He took your chin in his hand, forcing you to look up at him, staring deeply into your eyes. Then he proceeded to say the very last thing you ever expected him to:

“Look at your eyes… You haven’t fed in weeks, have you?”

You slapped his hand away and shoved him off of you, rushing to the otherside of the room, putting the coffee table between yourselves. “How-How do you?” You stammered, physically unable to form a complete sentence. How could he possibly know what you were? How did he even know you existed?

Felix’s eyes widened, clearly shocked by your reaction. “No, no. Don’t worry!” He said frantically, outstretching his hand to you. “Listen, I’m not going to hurt you or anything. I didn’t mean to scare you, I’m sorry! I’m sorry.”

You stared at him, disbelievingly. “Yeah? And how do I know that?” You let this man into your home, your safe space. How could you have been so stupid?

“Look, I grew up around Vampires okay? My neighbors, back in my childhood home, they were like you. I know the signs. I know how your eyes blow out when you’re hungry, the way they glaze over when you haven’t fed in a while. That’s it. I didn’t even realize until I got a good look at you, back when you were translating. It’s no big deal, really.”

You scoffed. No big deal? Felix didn’t seem to realize just how big of a deal it actually was. Humans weren’t supposed to know what you were, certainly not at Hampden. The Society had made well sure of that. God, if The Council saw you now...

“Y/N, I’m sorry. I should have told you back at the library. I honestly didn’t think it would freak you out this much. That’s on me,” he said, inching slightly closer to you. Despite yourself, you didn’t move away.  “I’m serious though, it’s been a while since you last fed. Hasn’t it?”

A while was an understatement. The Society had been going through a shortage of blood bags, after having severed their connections with one of the nearby hospitals. Meaning if you wanted to drink, it would have to be from one of their Certified Donors. Which was another, fancier and far more innocent way of saying prisoners. These were humans who had given their lives to The Society, some willingly and others not so much.

You didn’t like going to their quarters. Located in the basement of the main district, it was always quiet down there. Always solemn. You’d never been to a place lacking so much hope. You’d only gone once, and drinking from that man still haunts you to this day. The way he didn’t move or speak, or even wince when your fangs broke his skin. The way his eyes were hollow and empty. How when you were done he simply laid down in his bed and turned away from you, without another word. 

The Certified Donors were what made you begin to hate The Society in the first place. Since then, your resentment only seemed to grow. 

You sighed, walking past him and flopping onto your couch. “Yeah, it’s been a while,” you confessed.

Felix carefully approached you. Instead of seating himself next to you, he got down on his knees, resting a hand on your thigh. “It’s okay, you can use me. I don’t mind.”

You were ready to tell him no, the word lingering on the tip of your tongue. However, you couldn’t bring yourself to deny him. Perhaps it was your hunger, the fact that a few more weeks in this drought, you might actually become ill. 

Or maybe, just maybe, it was the fact that you wanted to disobey the society. That this little act of rebellion, this utterly wrong indulgence, was what made your desire grow unbearable, unchained. You hated The Council, you hated the Certified Donor system, and you hated the way they had such a firm grip and control on your life.

A beautiful boy was seated in front of you, begging you to drink from him. How could you possibly say no? Better yet, why would you say no? To deprive yourself of something so great, for something you despised so deeply seemed ridiculous. That was the moment your judgment lapsed, that you crossed the point of no return. If you drank from Felix, there would be no going back. If the council found out, there would be consequences. Big ones.

But who doesn’t love a little risk?

You sunk down to meet him on the floor, staring at his bare chest. You could hear his heart pumping, its pace quickening the closer you got to him. 

“Are you sure about this?” You asked.

“Yes,” he whispered. You shifted your position. Not quite seating yourself in his lap, but hovering above, your knees on either side of him. 

“This might hurt a little bit,” you warned. You extended your fangs, approaching his neck, carefully. You didn’t realize until then how nervous you were. It had been a long time since you’d fed from a human. You’d drank from Chan of course, but he was also a vampire, and your blood didn’t have quite the same effect. There was pleasure in it, usually accompanied in moments of ecstasy, but it didn’t replenish you. It didn’t heighten your senses, nor fill you with energy. Most of all, it didn’t satisfy your hunger, your thirst. Not at all.

Felix’s blood would. 

You kept this in mind as you finally plunged your fangs into his neck. Felix let out a gasp, tensing beneath you, his hand clutching onto your arm for support. The taste of his blood grazed your tongue, metallic and warm. Delicious.

Fuck, did blood ever taste this good before? You didn’t think so.

The sweet taste consumed you. Intoxicating. Raw. Cascading over your mind in a blanket of pleasure, reveling in the way its effects seeped over your body. You could feel your mind growing sharper, your senses becoming more alert. It was a relief, after weeks of blurry weakness, of being too close to humanity in your thirst. You felt yourself again, the monster you are. The monster you are glad to be.

Here you were powerful. Invincible. And all you wanted was more. More. More.

More of this power, this sensation, this strength. This is what feeding should be. What feeding can give you. Not from a blood bag, nor a helpless prisoner, but from someone you want. Someone you desire. Someone who desires you in return.

It was as you felt Felix’s grip on your arm loosen that you finally broke away, breathing hard as you caught your breath. Felix’s eyes shifted to yours lazily, dazed. Perhaps even delirious. For a moment you feared that you’d taken too much. He blinked slowly, his eyes regaining focus.

Then he smiled. “Shit Y/N…” he began, his voice appearing more of a croak. “That felt really fucking good.” 

You grinned, leaning into him and pressing a series of kisses up along his jaw. Felix shivered, allowing his hands to slowly slide up your figure. Wanting.

“Yeah?” You whispered, your lips brushing against his ear. “Then how about we continue where we left off?”

      ~~~~

The next morning you woke to the sound of your alarm buzzing, sunlight peeking through the opening of your drapes. You heard a low groan next to your ear, quickly becoming aware of the hand wrapped around your waist. 

So last night really happened. The reality of your situation dawned on you. You’d both drank from and fucked a human. There was no going back now, you’d completely disobeyed The Society.

Worst of all? You didn’t care. At least, not near as much as you should have. 

You shifted to face Felix, seeing his eyes still closed, eyebrows furrowed. “Hey,” you whispered, planting a soft kiss on the tip of his nose. “We have to get up. I have class.”

He groaned again in protest, shaking his head and burying his face into the crook of your neck. Between last night's events and the ringing of your alarm, you both only got about two hours of sleep, and that was being generous. This was no problem for you, as while sleep was a luxury, it was not a necessity. The same didn’t go for Felix.

“Come on,” you laughed, worming out of his grasp. “You’ll be fine, I’ll go make us some coffee.”

You rolled out of bed, throwing on Felix’s discarded shirt and heading towards your kitchen. Flicking on the radio, you felt oddly blissful as you grounded the coffee beans into a filter. It had been a long time since there’d been another person in your apartment. It made the space seem less… haunted. No longer lingering with the essence of Chan’s ghost. It felt fresh. New. 

Felix emerged from your bedroom, rubbing his eyes sleepily, sporting only his khaki’s from the past day. His gaze met yours and he smiled. “So, I take it my shirt is yours now?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, leaning forward over your kitchen counter. Felix bent down, causing you to become nose-level with one another. The close proximity made your heart race.

“Mean,” he murmured, leaning forward to kiss you softly. There was no unchained desire, no promise of more. It was simple, warm. A morning of peace after a night of wildness.

You could get used to this, you thought.

The thought sunk in your chest like a stone. This wouldn’t be as simple as you wanted to be, as you needed it to be. There would be sacrifices to make, and cautions you’d have to adhere to. You had to get the truth out in the open. Better to rip the bandaid off now rather than later.

 “Felix, you can’t tell anyone about this.” You said. The smile faded from Felix’s face, and for a moment he looked so… hurt. He stepped back.

“About the feeding? Y/N, I wouldn’t tell anyone what you are, don’t worry about-”

“No, not just the feeding. About us. About any of it.”

Felix opened his mouth to say something, but then quickly closed it. His gaze hardened. “Ah. Got it,” he stated sharply, grabbing his blazer and motioning to the door. “I’ll just head out then.”

“Wait, Felix! No, it’s not like that,” you said, rushing around the kitchen island and reaching for his arm. He turned around to face you, his expression wounded. “Listen, I don’t know how it was with your old neighbors, but here at Hampden things are different. There’s certain rules we have to follow, and what you and I did? Well, that broke about a hundred of them.”

Felix was silent for a moment, then sighed. “Okay… But what do you mean rules? Who’s enforcing them? Hampden?”

“No, it’s bigger than that. There’s a group of us here, a society. There are rules we abide by, and they’re meant to keep us safe. Keep us united,” you explained.

“Like a cult?” Felix asked, and you had to refrain from rolling your eyes.

“Well, if that helps you, then whatever. Yeah, sure. A cult.”

“Where do you-”

“I’m sorry,” you cut him off. “But that’s all I can really tell you, at least for now. Honestly, the less you know, the better. Just for safety’s sake.”

“Oh. Alright,” Felix said, his lips pursed. He wasn’t pleased, that much was obvious.

“I know this sucks, I’m sorry. But if we want to keep doing this-”

“Wait,” Felix interrupted, his eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “You want to keep doing this? I thought you’d get in trouble?”

You smiled, and were pleased to see the corners of his mouth curve up in return. “I’ve already risked getting myself in trouble.” You trailed your finger along the bare of his chest, feeling the warmth radiating from his skin. He was so alive, so real. And it only made you want him more. Perhaps, that’s why he wanted you as well. You were unpredictable, wild. A challenge. 

A match made in hell.

“I dug myself a grave, Lix.” You looked up at him, entranced by the curiosity swimming in his eyes. “Might as well lie in it.”

~~

next chapter 

[madfantasy]

I haven't seen you post in a while, I hope you've been doing okay? How is everything? Hope it's been a good year so far for you 💕💕

You're too kind, u & everyone who made inquiries, bless ur hearts.. im sorry for disappearing, but yeah, I don't have net— using my phone credit and hope this posts..

I tried to record my voice answering this, like I sometimes did on tik, suddenly ended up trying to muffle the floods of my burning tears, so now I have an awkward vid of me talking then weeping out of nowhere, which a good reason for me to keep up the no cry habit, heh.. but seriously, I suppose I'm fine till I be conscious of it.. its much easier for not to talk .. even tho I'm aching to be back in thy company, lonely in my foresight to catch on to the present that joins us, hand held out to reach like minded souls but shying from the fear of forgetfulness occurring..

I'm fine tho, did few new stuff, merely drowning in too muchness and nothingness as usual, this month I guess you could say I took an act of mad fury in search of any happy source because the echoing silence and the swarm of sadness nipping on my brain cells thickened, and the reasoning merged with the obscene. So instead of giving my guardians the usual of 3/4 of my earnings last month for net and groceries, I spent it all. Ya know, as it was told to me it mine to do as I please? As being prevented any chance of work if it was possible, 't was supposed to be spent on art supplies & measly delights craved for years ?

Before hand, I've been begging them to take me for months to get any clothing or whatever, be it the first time I ever see a shop, then just to drive around, then just me peaking to the outside when the front door is open, merely seeking change I suppose. They kept vaguely promising me until they refused point blank— getting tired of my nagging, then their car just stopped working till this day. Its in the workshop rn..

Anyway, befouled by despair, needing the mere basics of life and not granted, I was delighted when i found a site to buy from cheap & pretty, I pressed buy without any further considerations, or taking their permission and thrilled to be able get gifts for my siblings too. I say gifts but really they are deprived necessities too and not even much just one each cuz well, they are 5 of my babies and to start with the top of priorities; we all draw

I could already see it, they can't help themselves; heck seeped through the clenched gates of their mouths, trying desperately to poison me with undirect attempts this time, cuz I bought for my sibs they're out of the option of calling me selfish. I was upping the same trance like state of vague existence dealing with them, absorbing their insults and degrading just to make sure my shi arrives safe.

Unfortunate for me, the site chose the worst carrier in this country

I did everything in my power to make it into their convenience, by embarrassingly messaging the carrier daily, they took a week of promising to deliver and flanking so my guardians reached a heated level of threatening, waving their hands nd almost tossing shi at mE saying that they don't care if they came and if i dared to order something again they'll do this and that. Not allowing me to open the door for the delivery guy when he comes, blaming me for missing vaccination dates (they kept missing them even before)& missing going to important places(again, they just didn't go to for ages), made them loose sleep, etc etc— in turn, I seen red and regretfully blew up.

I screamed at them its literally the only time I ever did this, it BECAUSE it easier on them & I'll do what I want whatever anyway, & to stop interrupting me while I try to explain things , then they suddnly back done and be like I'm not mad at u I'm mad at the delivery ppl, that they are proud of me for being able to do all this, and such sort. I left them to cool in my room, Idk how I did it but must have slam-gripped something so hard it chipped most of my short nails & cracked one, was glad I didn't hurt my drawing hand but yeah, goofy mani

They robbed me of the joy of anticipation & the dissipation of apathy, I started to lose sleep again and my liberating dreams left me and I don't think I remember leaving bed.

But still, If not force myself to do things.. there'll be nothing for me if I don't.. at least I know im able of that

I got my guardians happy tho after another tiresome refusal, by trying out one of those Uber-eat like local apps here, since they have no car and being disabled & ill, I ordered McDonald's for the first time. Slythry behind their backs per habit, told them someone coming and they had that look again, but thankfully the guy came through and didn't steal my money, heh. For a big 1800 calories meal I suppose it was passable, the happy fam faces I got was the real treat..

Oh with that thing with the credit card stating I owe them money, waited weeks & nobody got back to us? They started taking from my guardian's account directly to pay it, saying oh we did send you warnings--- TO THE SHADOWY LINES OF THEIR POSTERIOR A.K.A NOWHERE. Thankfully the account is mostly empty nd just for random transactions, i alerted my guardians not to use it. And again, my god, another round of endless calls and promises started, and we wait again so they just don't act as if we owe them a frking 17k dollars that we don't have.. was panicking cuz I have nothing and but my guardians were weirdly comforting about it and told me not to worry

One thing good bout no net is it made me stop thinking about life in general, and stop the tiny unnoticeable prick of misery when I have no input to share, trying not to helplessly compare people just living, in inflated style or not, in media, to my isolated-most-of-my-life style and missing much of that organic "life experiences and chances", heh. At least, my situation would be favorable to me if it was ever possible for it to let me have peace, or have the simple knowledge I'm not virtually imprisoned and have never familiarised with nothing of this world but the surrounding walls.. its nice to have more time to be consumed by muse and day dreaming that flutters life through my dull being and sing chorus of inspiring means for art to flow and finds its way delicately onto my realised canvas.. but no, I continued drawing whilst sight blurred with salty droplets contradicting that happy tintin dance on tiktok I worked so long on just cuz I couldn't stop, not the tears or the mad scribbles of determined intention to visualise the mourned excitement I need, hating everything I make

Somehow the lilac dream still intrudes, visualising me friends, living, in a quaint home, maybe we roommate, arm in arm we go to make every fracture of fate's encounters a disgusting adventurous thrill, like building a maze of cardboard or chasing each other in the dark.. maybe getting that half bleached head and endless ear pericings ... then it dies and I totally forget it..

But what those awesome headphones helped me do, literally blocks all their voices listening to Sev losing it and I can Waltz around not feeling gutted to go and interfere or play the referee each time. But I can't wear them forever, gives me a bad headache, and honestly; I can't be too neglectful.. my sibs hates me for it already hehe

At least these clothing came true to their measurements, felt the new sensations on how everything I wore hugs me & learnt the baffling ways on how "gender" and region plays different tunes on the same measurements. Getting fitting things felt like suddenly there's hope to be, for myself to be me, and ease this severe disassociation between who I am, and what my body is .. from how little I see myself nd consider it worthy of anything because of how long it been living like a phantom among people.. to numb this dysphoria until it be gone one day

Saddened that the only site I can't order from again if they keep using that awful carrier

...

I missed our country's 91 national day, too. They made sales everything 91 riyal so.. but knowing the sellers here, I don't think most of em went true with their offers.. Horrible news tho on the celebrations, sigh

I turned this into a dear diary, guess bothered you enough today, sorry

So thankful to yous, Idk if I can be back, but I'll remain creating, and will keep the thought alive of being tickled when sharing my creations with your viewing pleasure somehow

'till then my precious dears, take care 💛🙏

26.9.2021, 8 pm, sleeping

[savagetrickster]

Stay with Me | BNHA

request:  Hi! Can I request a scenario where Bakugou thought that reader was starting to lose interest, but in reality reader is just really busy and doesn’t realize she’s treating baku differently and Bakugou confronting her about it then it ends with some fluff fluff. 💖 p.s luv ur work

anime | character:  bnha | bakugou katsuki x reader

word count: 1949

themes/warnings: soft!bakugou, insecure bakugou,  college AU

a/n: sorry for not posting a fic in such a long time, I’ve been SO busy. so anyway, okay I kinda went little off-track and ended up writing the way it is shown below but i hope you’ll still enjoy reading this, though i have to say I’m not really fond of how it turned out. this fic has not been beta-ed so pardon me if you find any cringey error.

The city of Musutafu moved as sluggishly as possible for a city of its size and caliber. It was one of those days when the moon was mostly hidden behind the clouds.

Kirishima let his eyes roam the street outside. The inhabitants of the boulevard were constantly on the move despite being a Saturday; it was a startling contrast to the cafe they sat in where a comfortable nonchalance clung to every aspect of the little business.

The slow, sleepy music playing from the speakers.

The casual yet practiced movements of the baristas as they prepared the orders. 

The lazy, idling manners in the way the customers brought their cups to their lips. Carrying every bit of thoughtlessness and indifference in their actions.

Well, almost everyone but them.

A perplexed frown pinched between Kirishima’s brows as he turned his gaze away from the window beside them.

Bakugou Katsuki had been sulking at the window ever since he plopped into the seat across him. 

He had been sitting in brooding silence for what felt like fifteen minutes and the expression on his face hadn’t changed. If there were any at all, it was only that his scowl grew bigger.

“As much as I like hanging out with you, I have to say this is getting a little…weird.” 

Kirishima briefly flitted to the counter to see curious eyes on them, “My colleagues are starting to think we’re dating.”

Tonight was the fourth time Bakugou had come to find him right as he was knocking off from his part-time job this week. 

“Who gives a fuck about what they think?” Bakugou muttered gruffly,  finally looking away from the outside.  

Kirishima had known him ever since they met in middle school to know the scowl on Bakugou’s face was…well, his default expression. 

Long enough for him to tell at one glance that the scowl he’d been seeing on Bakugou’s face was different. This one seemed to come right out from the depth of his fierce vermilion eyes — Bakugou was upset.

And it was about you.

No matter how hard Bakugou tried to hide how much he was a sucker for you, Kirishima could always tell. 

Even though they had matured into college students, Bakugou was still the same stubborn guy who wasn’t the most comfortable displaying his affections openly.

Mere mentions of you would soften the scowl on his face, and the rough edge in his voice. It was easy for anyone else to miss the difference but it was obvious to Kirishima. 

His grumpy complaints about how clingy and touchy you are were one of their common topics in their conversations. The annoyance scowling in his eyes when he did was always subtly soft and warm. 

But something changed, as Bakugou had mentioned, in the recent two weeks.

Nights in his dormitory room were spent alone. He was so used to falling asleep and waking up, to the sight of you curling up right next to him.

The last time he saw you were from afar, watching you rushing off to somewhere. 

Dates with you, even as simple as a meal in the cafeteria was scarce. 

Your replies to his texts were late and sometimes curt. The usual ‘good morning’ and ‘goodnight’ from you, if you didn’t spend the night with him, were no longer…usual. 

Sometimes his messages to you would be left hanging for days before you replied.

The tone when Bakugou was telling him about all these strange distances between them was nonchalant, but the scowl on his face told Kirishima a different story.

Kirishima tried to think of something to say, but all he could think of in the end was the same thing he’d been saying ever since Bakugou shared this with him.

“Stop worrying man, she’s probably just busy?”

Bakugou’s face carried a carefully blanked expression as he raised his eyes to meet Kirishima’s.

“…Or maybe she’s losing interest in me.” 

His arm was tucked between his pillow and his head as his other held his phone to his face. Vermilion eyes stared blankly at the quiet chatroom he shared with you, particularly fixated on your last reply to him.

Two days ago.

The gloom hung over his gaze these days were like the dreary seasons of dull, gray monsoons. 

The hopeful morning sun filtering into his room through the wooden window blinds above him was a startling contrast, and so was the lively laughter ringing out from the basketball court somewhere near the dormitory blocks. 

Probably some idiots shoving snow at each others’ faces, Bakugou thought seethingly as he clicked his tongue in annoyance at a particular spike of volume in the ruckus downstairs. 

It was Saturday and the morning was already—

His eyes flitted to the time written in the corner of his screen.

— halfway to noon.

A quiet sigh left him.

Like on Saturdays, he should be on the way to meet you for your usual brunch. Except things weren’t quite ‘usual’ anymore.

Bakugou released another sigh as he let his phone fall away from his face along with his raised arm, landing on the bed under him with a muffled ‘plop’.

His forehead ridged with a scowl. Just how did he fuck things up?

His memories sifted through the times he called you names and how you would still smile back at him like he was your whole world as if he didn’t just call you an idiot, a nerd, or a moron. 

A bitter taste of guilt entered his mouth.

Maybe he shouldn’t have assumed that you knew he was feeling affectionate when he did?

Perhaps you’ve grown sick of him? And realized that you didn’t need a shitty boyfriend who called you insulting names or would shrug off your affections as if they were annoyances.

His jaw clenched to his gritted teeth as a frustrated hiss slipped from him.

Shit, maybe he did fuck up afterall. Fucked up big time.

And he was probably going to lose you. Everything that made you…you.

The way you smiled at him with a loving, bright glint in your eyes as if he was the one who put the stars in the sky.

The sweet kisses you love to plant on his lips and forehead.

How your hand would hold onto his — small but warm with your love.

Bakugou felt his throat swell with the presence of forming tears as his heart twinged in his chest.

The idea of losing all that spurred a rush of panic in him.

Bakugou shot off his bed, put on the nearest shirt and jeans he could grab, and hurried out of his room.

The first place Bakugou thought to look for you was your dormitory but his worst fear made him hesitate at your door, with a hand hovering over its handle. 

In fact, he’d thought about doing this for the past two weeks but the wisps of doubts whispering nasty things wouldn’t let him.

His jaw clenched to his gritted teeth.

What if there was someone else— 

Bakugou shoved the unfinished thought aside; it was unbearable to even think about that possibility.��

His scowling gaze snapped to his hesitating hand and his lips instantly curled into a sneer to a spark of irritation within.

What was with him? He was starting to remind himself of Deku, hesitating outside doors with twiddling thumbs like a wimp.

He was Bakugou Katsuki and he should be announcing his arrival by bursting through one.

Man, you thought you could finally enjoy a good night’s sleep after countless of sleepless nights.

But no…nope. 

The heater just had to break down at an ungodly hour when you were still trudging through the last thesis for your project and you could find no other alternative places to work on them. 

Bakugou came across your mind but again, it was crazy late or more accurately, early to budge into your boyfriend’s room.

Like every other night, you’d been tirelessly working on it so you could finally submit the project you’d been assigned since two weeks ago.

It was the infamous final year project you’ve dreaded ever since you heard about it from your senior — dubbed as ‘the project from hell’.

And indeed, it was a project from hell. It seemed to suck out your very soul. The exhaustion weighing you down like lead ran bone deep, that even lifting your head off your pillow was such a struggle.

With a broken heater sitting uselessly in your room, you’d spent the whole night wrapped in your blanket, with the lingering winter chill prickling at your skin. 

So you couldn’t help sighing at the sudden warmth enveloping your body after spending the night shivering away under your blanket at the mercy of the dropping temperature.

Your arms found their way around the heat source.

You didn’t see the tender curl of his lips when you sighed blissfully and nuzzled into his chest or the softening glint in the usual fierce edge held in his vermilion eyes.

It was like nestling inside a warm cocoon that…

— awareness seeping into your groggy senses pried your eyes open.  

…breathed.

What or rather who greeted you lifted you right out of your morning grogginess and struck you with an overwhelming barrage of emotions.

“…Ka-Katsuki!” You missed him so much.

Along with how the shadows and sunlight filtering in from behind you fell across and highlighted his chiseled profile, there was something about the way his intense eyes looked down at you with his head leaning against an arm. 

This sight gave your heart a fluttery squeeze.

You weren’t sure why Bakugou looked so strikingly handsome like this — maybe it was because you haven’t seen him for awhile?

“When did you come in here?” Words started pouring out of your mouth. 

You’ve always wanted to vent and rant about the dumb project to Bakugou so there was too much you wanted to say, 

“Oh my god, you’ve no idea how much busy I was these few weeks-” but the brooding look that hadn’t left Bakugou stopped you.”…Katsuki?”

You’d never seen Bakugou look this down before, and it didn’t sit right with you.

You hesitated but asked anyway.“…What’s wrong?” 

The cloud that fell over his eyes told you that something was definitely wrong.

“…I’m sorry, (Name).”

You grew concerned as you tried to understand his unreadable demeanor. “What’s this about— ”

“Are you losing interest in me?”

Your next breath was caught in your throat at his strange question and the only thing you could do was blurt out a —“What?”

You watch him exhale carefully with a bewildered look. 

Bakugou didn’t even care how he looked to you now.

“Look, I know I’m a huge fuck-up as a boyfriend and you probably think I don’t care about our relationship cause I act like I don’t.”

There was so much to say, so much guilt brimming inside him. 

“But shit, I do care.”

He was desperate. 

He didn’t want to lose you. He couldn’t. He loved you but he was an idiot for not showing that to you. 

So he needed to let you know now.

His hand on your waist pulled you up to him and his eyes were pinned on yours.

Your mouth opened, then snapped close at the silent, blazing gleam in his gaze.

Your voice had fled at the way he stared at you. 

Longing and heavy with remorse.

“Stay with me,” His lips brushed lightly across yours as his voice cracked with an aching need.” …please.”

He kissed you and the world fell away.

[kojinnie]

In the fifteen days of your absence

Pairing: Reader x Reiner Braun

Tags/Warning: deep angst in the end

Summary: Reiner wanted to leave you, but you chose to leave him first.

Word Count: 1.5K

A/N: Written half-drunk at 4 AM. Very unstructured piece that I wrote in a whim. Just me being overwhelmed with emotion. So please, bare with me.

There is a prolonged misery in the way Reiner Braun saw the world, in a rather apocalyptic outlook which made wariness became a permanent figure throughout the course of his life, he couldn't help but to incessantly ponder on his role in the world. Every day, every waking moment in his short, miserable life. Like it was an urgency that he had to find answer to immediately. 

"What was I destined to be?" was the question he pondered every morning. He had grown to believe that everyone was made for single, destined role and he was on an never-ending quest to find his. You often thought, what was it that drove the man into the verge of such desperation to find an answer? "Doesn't that depend on what you choose to do every day?" you once asked, as the two of you laid naked on your bed. He didn't utter a word afterward, but he knew your answer-slash-question wasn’t up to his appetite for philosophical discourse. He just rolled over away from you and succumbed into silence until the next morning when he left your apartment without saying goodbye. Even in the path where he left, you could sense he left with utter disappointment towards you.

He didn't reach out to you after his shift. Nor did he send the customary good morning text that had grown to be habitual rather than a display of affection over the past three years you had been with him. You waited patiently until the night came, yet still there was no sign of him. That night, you slept anxiously, jolting out of drowsiness each time your phone buzzed, only to find that it was just a typhoon warning. You didn’t care, all you wanted to know was how Reiner was.

The next morning, out of fright of somewhat the expected disappointment, the first thing you did in the morning was shoving your phone underneath your pillow, as you got ready for work. You didn’t want to have your heart shattered by the non-existing message or missed calls from Reiner. That was the least you could do to refrain having an anxiety attack an hour away before your shift started.

At lunch, your Japanese bento tasted bland. And the words of your manager rung into your eardrums like a mere inconvenience. You had grown antsy by that point, and you had not checked your phone since the morning. You continued to torture yourself by putting your phone on Airplane Mode. You couldn’t bear having each minute neurotically checking your phone to see whether Reiner had texted your or not.

By the third day, you caved in. You finally operated your phone because you had to call your grocer for a weekly delivery. When things were okay, Reiner would come by and walk with you to the nearby deli. He would buy three bottles of his favorite ranch, one that he would store at your house, one at his mum’s, and one for his own storage at home. But now that he was off the grid, you didn’t feel like leaving your apartment and opted for a delivery instead. The courier was grim, didn’t say thank you even after a rather generous tip. He was listening to Happy Days Are Here Again, the melodious tunes seeped through his headphone. What an odd irony, you thought to yourself as you closed the door on him.

There was a sickening anticipation as you waited for your phone to load, and when the homepage popped open you felt nausea looming as you found no sign of Reiner neither in your inbox nor your call log.

You had grown accustomed to the anxiety of being with Reiner. As if being nauseous, with your heart thumping all night, wondering his whereabout, is the default state that came with dating the man with those sorrowful eyes. 

Reiner Braun. That man. 

He had affinity for leaving in the quietest fashion, putting you in the dark over what went wrong. Beating yourself up for his departure. Sometimes it would be because of the little thing you said mindlessly, or the way Reiner felt like he had been treated by you in a way that he regarded as distasteful. But he never told you about it, he would just disappear into the thin air and let you succumbed into your own misery in the complete absence of him, until you came to your sense into what wrongdoing you might have committed.

Yet, despite knowing his playbook already, still you were the willing victim, “Reiner, I’m sorry. Please, forgive me.” Were the words he would be waiting from you.

“Do you love me still?” once Reiner asked, when the two of you were soaked underneath the summer rain because Reiner forgot to bring the umbrella although you had reminded him numerous times before stepping out of the apartment. You thought the question was a misfit given the circumstances, but he looked dead serious as he wiped his eyes from drips of the water that drenched the two of you.

“Yes. I do.” You said, to which he nodded with no smile.

For the longest time you wondered what did he mean by that? Until you realized too late, that he was so scared of being left, that his question was his desperate way to commit you into forgiving him after a small mistake he had done. Later, you were bed-ridden from the cold you got after being drenched for hours, and he asked you again, “Do you love me?” You had no other choice but to plant a deep kiss on his soft, thin lips as an answer. A display of forgiveness he was yearning for.

Reiner’s absence persisted like the growing pain he caused within you that was only becoming more gaping as days go by. When fifteen days had passed, your friends started to chirp, ‘Why don’t you just come to his house?’; ‘But you have tried calling him right?’. You couldn’t quite explain the strange way you understood Reiner, in silence, in certain distance, in mutual recognition of each other’s disdain. 

You knew he had blocked your caller ID, and how should you tell your friends that you never went to his home more than once before? Because you could feel the palpable reluctance in him as once, years ago, you insisted to drive him home. “In certain distance, did our love find no resistance,” he once declared.

In resistance did our hearts bound with happenstance,

and in happenstance did we end in desistance.

Reiner. Reiner. Reiner. You thought of him relentlessly. Was it only a happenstance that you uttered the wrong choice of words as he asked for validation of his role in life? What was it that he wanted to hear from you anyway? Maybe: ‘You are destined for something big, Reiner.’ Did the happenstance finally led him to desist from further effort in loving you? 

The thought persisted when you walked down the street that night, out for a beer on your own. As you passed through the lonely buildings of your neighborhood, the reminiscing of his form made your thoughts murky, as you crossed the avenue in scurry, with your gaze that had gone blurry.

You couldn’t make out of it, but a very loud noise suddenly deafened your ear and you could feel your body tossed into the air and fell into a hard surface. You could feel nothing as you slipped into the abyss of nothingness. Was it the sound of Reiner calling for you finally?

“Do you love me?” you heard a voice. A deep, sad voice coming from a mouth of a man with sorrowful eyes.

“Yes, I do.” you answered. But still he asked, “Do you love me?”

And he asked again, “Do you love me?” and again, and again, no matter how much you have answered, “Yes, I do, Reiner. Yes, I do.” still he asked the same thing, “Do you love me?”

You didn’t know where you were, you could hardly see the man that you had loved with your demure heart, despite the desolation of his heart. You could only hear his voice, calling out for you like you wished he had been in those fifteen days of his absence.

“Reiner,” someone said, a kindly voice of mature wisdom. She sounded a lot like your mum, “let her go.”

“I can’t,” he refused, his voice broke in despair, “not until she answers me.” 

“Baby, do you love me? Do you love me?”

You shouted with all your might, “I do, Reiner! I do!”

Yet he heard no words. He held you close in his cradle, yet still he knew you were slipping away. Underneath the bright lights of an ER did your body lay cold. Reiner had came late after he was told, “She got hit by an eight-wheeler,” a colleague told him over the phone. Even then, Reiner knew he had lost you, but still he wished for the last chance to make amend. It was true he contemplated to leave you, but never did he expect he’d be given no second chance to atone.

In his cradle, you finally went away. Underneath his tears, your face drenched once again. In the agonizing realization did Reiner find himself, drowned in his regret on how he had chosen to spend the last fifteen days he would ever have with you.