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astarionfreak · 2 months
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At least you purr for me
// Astarion (Spawn) / Reader (Fem!Tav)
You've been faking orgasms your entire life. And yes, you even faked during that night in the forest with Astarion. After a couple bottles of wine, the truth comes out and Astarion wants to rectify the situation.
18+ • NSFW • 6.3K words (1/1) | Read on AO3 (a teaser is available below)
Tags: Smut, first orgasm, masturbation, inappropriate use of tadpole, vaginal fingering, penis in vagina sex, oral sex, vampire bites
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Astarion’s body language is relaxed, but you can tell that something has changed. Your little confession earned you his full attention. He’s going to try to fuck you again, isn’t he?
Then you feel it, that familiar tug inside your mind. Your breath catches in your throat.
Is it true, what you said?
You nod.
I’d like to discuss this further with you if you’re interested?
You shrug.
Not the resounding ‘yes’ I was hoping for, darling.
Astarion leans back on one hand and takes a slow sip of wine from the goblet in his other hand.
It’s also not a ‘no.’
Astarion responds to something Karlach said. It earns him another laugh from the group. You’re still not focusing on the actual words being exchanged, you’re just watching Astarion.
Yes, well, now that I have all the information on your little . . . predicament. I’d like to try again.
There it is. Another man treating you like you’re a poor, broken thing that desperately needs him to be cured.
I don’t need you to fix me, Astarion.
You’re staring at him now, but he seems to be hardly paying you any attention. Even though he’s actively inside your mind.
Did I say I wanted to fix you? I only meant that I want to fuck you, dear.
You sigh.
I don’t know if that’s a good idea.
You shiver as phantom fingertips begin to trail, feather-light, up your inner thigh. Your mouth drops open and you inhale sharply. After only one night together, he knows exactly how to touch you.
Astarion is still in the middle of a conversation with the group while he teases you. How is he able to do this?
I only have good ideas. Just say the word and we can share another private moment.
His fingertips aren’t there, not really, and yet you feel them slide up and down your thigh. Every time his fingers move, they go farther and farther up — inching closer to where you really want them to be.
Maybe, Astarion. But when?
You shift in your seat, squirming as the invisible fingers slide to your other thigh — continuing to tease you with slow and gentle movements. You struggle to control your breathing, trying to focus now only on keeping your breath steady and slow so as to not raise any suspicions.
Now is as good a time as any.
Then he adds another hand. This time delicate fingers move down your neck, caress your shoulder, beneath your clothes and slowly brush over the swell of your breast. The fingers trace your curves, over and under.
You’re sitting rather stiffly now. The hair on the back of your neck stands at attention and goosebumps are scattered along your arms. If anyone were to look at you, they would surely know something is going on.
Read entire fic on AO3.
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sehtoast · 3 months
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Give and Take (Homelander x Reader Smut)
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18+ | 606 words | mild smut, emotional homie, he loves you, gender neutral reader | Fic Directory
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He likes to be held afterward.
Face buried in your neck, nuzzling against you as he melts into you. Each pass of your fingers through his hair elicits a soft sigh or a hum of approval. 
He's still inside you, limp, trapping the proof of his love in there. He doesn't want to pull out either. You're so warm… so safe. And this way, he's a part of you. 
He suckles a small spot at your neck. To him it is soft, but you'll bruise anyway. His love has always marked everything it touched.
You've always loved him anyway. 
You hum as he does it. Your fingers trace up and down the length of his back and he shivers. 
Still so very afraid to believe that your love is unconditional. It's real. 
You are real. 
You don't send him away after everything is said and done. It's not a transaction to you, not a deal to be made for his good behavior or a stunt for your ratings. Sometimes he needed to be reminded, but it'd always make him cry. Something that should humiliate him, soothed away by kisses and whispers of love and the mere presence of you. 
He'll never have enough of you. Like an animal, starved and desperate, he clings to you. 
It's a mindless act when he starts to grind into you again. It's wet and messy and his breaths are hot against your neck. He doesn't move to arch over you, doesn't grip at the headboard he's destroyed in countless ways to protect you from himself– none of that. 
He's slow, each thrust a combination of care and laziness. Needing more no matter how much he'd settled down. 
By the time the moans start, he's rutting into you, face still buried in your neck, hands gripping your sides. Your name falls from his lips like prayers repeated over and over to the only god he'll ever believe in. 
He used to tell himself all the time that he’d never have this.  Much as he always hated to admit it, he knew that what came before you was, at best, something ugly– something cruel and greedy.  He was a tool to be used and discarded, a toy to be thrown away when he broke or they got bored.
He stopped believing that would ever change, but then you came along.  
You, with your soft, kind eyes, your warm smile, your touches of love and your words of honey stumbled into his life by chance.  He’s never been more grateful for the disorganized webs of fate in his entire life.
He used to be so afraid that you were temporary.  He knows better now.  Somehow that is just as scary, if not more, as not knowing.
You intend to stay with every fiber of your being.  You adore him.  You love him.
You fucking love him.
Your hands ghost up and down his back as he finishes and settles again.  One snakes up into his hair to scratch and pet, the other thumbing at his hip.  You nuzzle against him and he lets that last scrap of tension fade from his body.  
He breathes you in like you’re the last breath he’ll ever take.  You hold him like he’s the last thing you’ll ever touch.
You give.  He takes.
“I love you,” he whispers near silently into the crook of your neck.  “I love you so much.”
He gives. You take.
You know that he feels vulnerable every time he says it.
“I love you, too.”
You know he feels so much better when you say it back.
You’ll always say it back.
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fluentmoviequoter · 28 days
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We're Getting Married Now?
Requested Here!
Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!LAPD!reader
Summary: When Tim finds out you need a fake boyfriend to take to your cousin's wedding, he steps up and offers to go with you. After a night in his arms, you learn that his "boyfriend act" isn't just an act.
Warnings: I referenced a few lines from The Rookie (no spoilers though), a few vague mentions of insecurities and rude family members (they apologize). lots and lots of fluff!! one bed trope?
Word Count: 4.3k+ words
Picture from Pinterest
Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List
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When your phone rings on the way to work, you don’t expect to see your aunt’s name on the caller ID. 
“Hello?” you greet. 
“Hey, sweetheart. I was going through the seating chart for your cousin’s wedding and seemed to have misplaced your RSVP,” she explains. 
“I, uh, I didn’t get an invite. She’s getting married?”
“Of course. You lot aren’t getting any younger, as I’m sure you know, and when she met her fiancé, well, I think we all knew. Anyway, you say you didn’t get an invite? Must’ve gotten lost in the mail, those incompetent kids aren’t as reliable as they used to be. I suppose that explains your lack of congratulations, though, which I’m sure everyone will be relieved to hear.”
“I bet,” you mumble before asking, “So what do you need from me? Sorry to interrupt, but I’m nearly to work.”
“Oh, yes, I’m sorry, I suppose the wedding planning is making me a touch scatter brained. All I need from you is a confirmation that you are attending. It’s at her fiancé’s family orchard, I’ll send you the address. Everyone is coming out Friday evening and the wedding is Sunday afternoon.”
“Uh, yeah, I have this weekend off. I may be a bit later on Friday, but I’ll be there.”
“And I’ll assume you’re still single, so no plus one. Although, sweetie, you really shouldn’t let this discourage you. I’m sure you have plenty going for you and the right man is out there somewhere,” she says, lowering her voice as pity laces every word. 
“Actually, I’ll be bringing my boyfriend. If there’s room for one more, of course.”
The words come out before you can stop them, and after you slam your gear shift up and set your brake, you grip your steering wheel with both hands. 
“Boyfriend? Well, good for you, sweetheart, I didn’t want to seem insensitive before, but your clock is ticking! I will put you down for two then. Oh, one more thing-“
“I’m actually at work and can’t be late. I’ll see you Friday,” you rush out before ending the call. 
Hitting the back of your head against the headrest, you wonder who you can ask on such short notice. Getting a fake boyfriend is entirely avoidable, of course. You’d have to tell another lie about him being sick or dumping you or call your aunt and explain that her constant jabs at your lacking love life pushed you to speak without thinking. 
“That would go well,” you murmur as you gather the strength to get out of your car. 
She’d probably say something like, “Well then he just wasn’t the one,” before telling everyone that you did something to get dumped, or she’d remind you that you’re running out of time, it’s practically too late, so you should stop trying. You don’t mind being single, but she rips you apart, finding a way to make it your fault for being too busy with work, unwilling to compromise, or “looking too chubby in red.” (Her words.)
As you walk into the station and change into your uniform, you are struck with the perfect idea. 
“Nolan!” you call, rushing to his side before he can enter roll call. “I need a favor.”
“Uh, yeah, I’ll do what I can,” he answers kindly. 
“Long story short I need a fake boyfriend to go to my cousin’s wedding or my aunt will expose me as a dirty rotten liar who can’t get a boyfriend.”
“Wow,” Nolan responds. “Does she really- never mind. When’s the wedding?”
“This weekend.”
“Bailey and I are going to San Diego to meet Henry for a few days. I’m so sorry, I’d help you if I could.”
“Yeah, no problem. Thanks anyway,” you tell Nolan while looking for someone else you can ask. “Aaron!”
Aaron turns in the doorway, stepping back toward you and Nolan with raised brows. 
“What’s up?” he asks. 
“I need a date, a fake boyfriend for a wedding this weekend.”
“I don’t do weddings.”
“Aaron, please,” you plead.
“Look, I’d love to help you, but my family’s got a big dinner thing this weekend and they rarely end well, so I’m booked.” He pats your arm and adds, “Hope you find someone who can help.”
You nod as he walks inside. Looking around the station, you realize your options are very limited. 
“Think Angela would let me borrow Wesley for a few days?” you ask Nolan. 
“Why don’t you just find someone to actually take as a date?”
“Because that’s the entire problem, Nolan. I can’t get a date.”
“I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”
As you follow him into roll call, you whisper, “I’m going to have to ask Smitty.”
Nolan stifles a laugh, shaking his head as he takes his seat. You tune Wade out after receiving your assignment for the day, glancing around the room as you try to find someone else you can ask. Maybe you should just cancel, tell your aunt that you’re the one who got sick, and now neither you nor your boyfriend can make it. 
Standing in the bullpen, you have your aunt’s contact pulled up on your phone but can’t seem to press the call button. 
✯✯✯✯✯
“Sergeant Bradford,” Nolan says. “I need some advice.”
“I already don’t like this, but go ahead,” Tim replies, resting his hands against his belt. 
“If a fellow officer, a close friend, was going to cancel going to a family member’s wedding because she couldn’t find a fake boyfriend to keep her controlling aunt off her back, would you help her?”
Tim doesn’t answer, turning away from Nolan. As he walks toward the bullpen, Nolan raises a fist in victory, hoping it works out for you and Tim. It’s clear to everyone that you have feelings for each other, but neither of you seems eager to do anything about them. Maybe this is the push you need to take the next step. 
✯✯✯✯✯
Tim’s hand covers your phone screen before he takes it from you, holding it by his side. 
“You need a fake boyfriend?” he asks. 
“Who told you? ... Nolan, I should’ve known not to trust him and his big mouth.”
“Who’s getting married?”
“My cousin,” you answer, pursing your lips in confusion about why he’s interested. 
“The cousin from the aunt that manipulates and belittles you every time you see her?”
“I’m still sorry for calling you that day, I shouldn’t have. Just didn’t have anyone else to cry to.”
“She lied to you, told you things about yourself that couldn’t have been further from the truth. So, now that you have lied to her, what are you going to do about it?”
“Cancel,” you whisper. “If I can just press the button to call her.”
“I’ll call her,” Tim offers, raising your phone. “Or I can go with you.”
“Tim, I can’t ask you to do this- to lie for me and spend your weekend off at a wedding, around people you don’t know.”
“You’re not asking,” Tim reminds you. “Which one? I make a call, or I go with you.”
“Are you sure?”
“Wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t.” Tim smiles while assuring, “We’re friends, and we’ve been on vacation together before. This is just like that.”
“I don’t want to go…”
“But you don’t want to deal with the grief you’ll get if you don’t. I get it, but I’ll help in any way I can.”
You nod, taking your phone from Tim. “Thank you.”
“When do we leave?”
“Friday night. The wedding’s Sunday.”
“Two days before? Why?”
“I don’t even want to think about that right now.”
Tim raises your right hand, pushing a bent paper clip over your finger as he promises, “I will make sure you survive this weekend.”
“And I… will apologize in advance.”
✯✯✯✯✯
When you get out of the shower Friday night and get dressed, all you can think about is the weekend ahead. If you or Tim get uncomfortable, you could put your relationship on the line to look like a happy couple in front of your family. 
Tim’s knock draws you from your thoughts, and when he takes your bag from you, you realize something: Tim already acts like your boyfriend, so he really is boyfriend material. Your crush on him is bound to be affected over the next 48 hours, but he agreed to this, so maybe there’s a chance he feels more than friendship, too. Shaking the idea from your head, you accept Tim’s help as you climb into the passenger seat of his truck. He waits until he’s on the freeway to ask you about the wedding and your family. 
“What’s the fiancé like?” he asks. 
“I haven’t met him. Didn’t even know they were getting married until a few days ago.”
Tim nods, laying his elbow on the center console and moving closer to you without thinking. 
“I- I want to go ahead and tell you that you don’t have to do anything you’re uncomfortable with. My family can be a lot-“
“I’m not here for them. I’m spending the weekend with you, and nothing more. Remember that, okay? So, if you need an excuse, a buffer, anything you want or need, that’s me this weekend.”
“I can never repay you for this.”
“I’ll give you a call next time I need a wedding date,” Tim suggests. 
“Deal,” you reply with an easy smile. 
✯✯✯✯✯
Someone squeals your name, and Tim grips your hand when you flinch. 
“I’m so glad you made it!” the woman says, pulling you into a hug.
“Of course. And congratulations!” you reply. “Sorry about the invitation confusion.”
“Oh, no worries, I get it. Stuff happens. My mom said you were bringing your boyfriend?”
Tim steps forward, wrapping an arm around your waist as he offers his other hand. “I’m Tim, the boyfriend your mom mentioned.”
“Oh,” your cousin says, shaking his hand. She looks between you and Tim, and as you begin to expect a sarcastic comment, she says, “Nice to meet you, Tim.”
“That wasn’t so bad,” Tim whispers in your ear. 
“I guess I could’ve been overthinking it,” you admit. 
“You’re in chateau Sauvignon Blanc,” a man says, passing a key to Tim. “Follow the white path and you won’t miss it.”
“The chateaus are named after wine,” Tim muses. “Must be nice to be marrying into a family of nepotism.”
You laugh at him, and when he refuses to let you carry your bag to the chateau, you fall into easy conversation on the short walk. Entering, however, you stop in the doorway. 
“What’s wrong?” Tim asks quickly, stepping forward so his chest presses against your back. 
“Nothing, just- there’s only one bed in here,” you say quietly. 
“I think we can make it work. There’s always the floor if you want to treat your fake boyfriend like that,” Tim jokes, closing the door and tossing your bags on a nearby chair. 
“I- why’d you agree to come?” you ask him. 
“You needed a date.”
You don’t quite accept that. It’s not enough reason for someone as logical as Tim Bradford. You don’t have time to question him further, though, as you receive a text that dinner is being served in the main tasting room in just a few minutes. 
“Hey,” Tim says, laying his hands on your shoulders. “We’re two people on vacation together. It doesn’t have to be awkward.”
“Sorry. It’s just, this isn’t what I was expecting.”
“That’s okay, but we’re going to keep moving. No one knows me here, so I’m whatever-“
“I need you to be,” you repeat. “Thank you.”
Tim smiles, and you take your bag into the bathroom to get ready while he changes. When you exit, wearing your favorite outfit and hairstyle, Tim stands, offering both his hands. 
“You look stunning.”
“Clean up pretty nicely yourself, Mr. Bradford.”
“Oh, so you’re a flirty girlfriend?”
You roll your eyes, attempting to pull away from Tim. He tightens his hands around yours and pulls you into a hug, hooking one arm around you as he leads you back to the white path. 
✯✯✯✯✯
Sitting beside Tim, your hand stays in his until the food is served. So far, all of the attention has been on your cousin and her fiancé, and you’re more than happy to listen along to their chatter rather than talk yourself. 
“What about you two?” your grandfather asks. “How’d you meet?”
Tim moves his hand out of yours, patting above your knee as he answers, “We met at work; different divisions, but we joined forces for a narcotics bust and I just couldn’t get her off my mind, so I had to ask her out.”
“How long have you been together?” someone inquires. 
“5 years,” you and Tim say together. You add, “But we’ve only been serious for what? 6 months or so?”
“Since you finally agreed to my begging, you mean?” Tim asks, sending you a comforting smile. “Yeah, about that.”
“Cute,” your cousin comments before the conversation returns to her. 
You close your eyes and release a breath, leaning toward Tim when his hand covers yours again. 
✯✯✯✯✯
“How are we doing this?” You ask, standing at the side of the bed with your arms wrapped around your waist. 
“It’s a bed,” Tim says, blinking at you. “Seems pretty straightforward.”
“Well, yeah, but… what if I, like, snore more or something?”
“I’ll live. Just get in the bed.”
You crawl under the covers, murmuring, “Thought you were gonna call me boot there for a second.”
“I still may,” Tim responds as he turns the light off, lying beside you. “Is this okay?”
“Yes. Thank you, Tim.”
“No problem.”
✯✯✯✯✯
When you wake up, it’s a few minutes before dawn, and a strong arm is holding you against the mattress. When you try to move, Tim pulls you closer before tucking you against him as he relaxes again. 
“Friends on vacation,” you remember, pressing your cheek against his chest as you get comfortable. 
Suddenly, you remember you have to survive another night by his side. The idea makes you want to pull away, but his touch and heartbeat lull you back to sleep before you can. 
✯✯✯✯✯
“Your cousin is here,” Tim whispers, shaking you gently. “She wants to talk to you about dresses.”
“You’re a snuggler,” you mumble as Tim pulls you out of bed. 
“No one will ever believe you,” Tim says darkly. 
“Is she really here?”
“I wouldn’t lie about that. This isn’t a horror movie.”
Nodding, you pick up a change of clothes and move into the bathroom. Tim’s voice is muffled through the wall, but you can tell he’s being civil even as his patience wears thin. Straightening your outfit, you open the door and smile at your cousin and Tim.
“You’re wearing that?” she asks.
“You’re beautiful,” Tim says, smiling at you.
“What exactly are we doing?” you ask.
“I wanted to see the dress you’re planning to wear to the rehearsal tonight and the wedding and reception tomorrow. If you need something different, we can-“
“I won’t need different dresses,” you interrupt. “I like the ones I brought.”
“As do I,” Tim adds. “But I’ll leave you two to talk about dresses.” He stands, kissing your temple and pausing by your side to whisper, “Call if you need someone to save you.”
Smiling, you tell him to be careful. Your cousin waits until he leaves to sit on the end of the bed, waiting for you to show the dresses you packed.
As you hold them up, you remember Tim's compliments this morning as you hide your smile at her surprised reaction. And his arm around you last night. He’s taking his fake boyfriend duties seriously, and you’re unsure if your feelings can survive another night beside him.
“They’re pretty,” your cousin says finally. “I have a few more things to do before the rehearsal this evening, but I’ll see you around.”
“Congratulations again,” you call, exiting the chateau behind her to look for Tim.
When you round a corner on the white path, you run directly into Tim. His arms come up to catch you, holding you against his chest as he raises his eyebrows in surprise.
“Did it go okay?” he asks, rubbing a hand down your spine.
“Yeah. She said the dresses were pretty, so that was unexpected.”
“Wait ‘til she sees them on you,” Tim replies. “Can’t imagine getting upstaged at my own wedding.”
“What do you want to do for the rest of the day? The rehearsal isn’t until 5 and then most of the wedding party is leaving for bachelor and bachelorette parties.”
“You could model the dresses.”
“Stop,” you plead, laughing as you press against Tim’s chest.
“It’s my duty as your boyfriend.”
“I knew I should have asked Smitty.”
Tim narrows his eyes, shaking his head. “Don’t make me think about that.”
✯✯✯✯✯
“Where do you think the red path goes?” you ask.
“Are you asking me on a treasure hunt date?” Tim replies.
“Maybe. Care to follow our own version of the yellow brick road? See if you can find your usual personality on the way back to Kansas?”
“You don’t like my new personality? The one I created just for you?”
“Tim,” you warn. “Red path, yes or no?”
Tim takes your hand, leading you out of the chateau and back toward his truck before turning onto the other path.
“If we find a crime scene or something,” you begin.
“What?” Tim interrupts dramatically.
“If we find something unexpected, what then?”
“Wait,” Tim calls, gently pulling you back toward him. “What is this about?”
Glancing down, you say, “Last night.”
“Look, if I made you uncomfortable-“
“No, not at all. The, uh, the unexpected part was how much I liked it,” you admit quietly.
Tim taps his knuckle lightly against your chin, smiling as you raise your head to look at him.
“Just tell me what’s bothering you.”
“I don’t want to ruin anything. We’re friends, and I care about you, but this weekend could ruin everything if I make one wrong move.”
“You said it yourself, we’re friends, and we’ve been friends for years. Walking on eggshells around me all weekend is unnecessary, not to mention more dangerous than just telling me you like being cuddled.”
“You like being cuddled.”
“Never say that aloud again.”
You chuckle, taking Tim’s hand as you begin walking again. After a few minutes of walking in silence, you stop.
“The red path looks exactly like the white path,” you point out.
“Not true. The red path is red, and the white is white.”
“Wow. You should have been a detective.”
“Are we on the same page?” Tim murmurs.
“Yeah, I’ll be myself with you this weekend. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Nerd.”
“Excuse me?”
“Sorry, Dorothy.”
You roll your eyes, walking away from Tim. He laughs before taking a few long steps to catch up with you. Wrapping an arm around your shoulders, Tim apologizes, and you lean against him, trying to remember what he said about being honest.
✯✯✯✯✯
“Hi, sweetheart,” your aunt greets you as you enter the venue for the rehearsal dinner. “You are at table 2, and your boyfriend is at table 9.”
“You didn’t seat us together?” you ask.
“Well, it was late notice, learning you were bringing a plus one. Sorry.”
“Uh, okay. Thanks.”
Tim lays his hand on your lower back, leading you to your table.
“I’ll be right back,” he says, reaching over the table before leaving.
You watch him walk to his table, switching a nameplate before returning to your side. He sets his nameplate on the seat beside you, sighing as he sits.
“Have I told you recently that you’re the best?”
“You don’t have to, I know,” Tim answers smugly.
“What do you want to do when this is over?”
“Planning ahead, aren’t we?” Tim smiles as he leans toward you.
✯✯✯✯✯
Exiting the venue, you take Tim’s hand, wrapping your other hand around his forearm as you walk beside him. He tugs you closer, keeping you close until you’re back in your chateau. After changing quickly and washing your face, you collapse onto the bed.
“I thought my family was tiring,” Tim jokes.
“Still up for cud- lying closely on the same piece of furniture?” you correct.
Tim leans over you, smiling as he says, “Since you asked so nicely.”
You stare at the ceiling until Tim returns and pulls you into his side as he lays beside you. Rolling against him, pressing your ear to his chest so you can hear his heartbeat, you accept that things are changing.
“I don’t think we can go back to how things were before,” you mutter.
“Me neither,” Tim agrees softly, moving his hand to your upper back.
“Did I ruin everything by letting you come with me?”
Tim rolls onto his side, facing you rather than holding you.
“What’s the plan for tomorrow? Does everything get awkward after the wedding?”
“You didn’t ruin anything,” Tim answers. “I offered to come because it was an opening to spend time with you.”
“But-“
“We’re friends, right? That’s what we say but that’s not how it feels.”
“How does it feel?” you whisper.
“Like more. Tell me you’ve been pretending, and I’ll let this go, but nothing I’ve said this weekend has been a lie or an act.”
“I have feelings for you,” you confess. “I have for years, but I didn’t know how to tell you or what you’d think. So…”
“We both did. Stay quiet to preserve a friendship that could have been much more.”
Inhaling deeply, you move forward, closing the distance between you and Tim.
“You asked what happens after the wedding,” Tim says. “I’d like to keep going from here.”
“I’d like that too.”
Tim smiles, wrapping an arm around your waist as he rolls over, pulling you with him. You laugh against him, falling silent when you look into his eyes.
“Can I-“ Tim begins.
“Kiss me,” you demand.
Tim cups your cheeks as he pulls you down against him, kissing you softly. You slide your arms over his chest, holding his jaw as you reciprocate his every move. Tim’s arm tightens around your waist before someone knocks on the door.
Pulling away, you sigh before getting out of bed, cracking the door open to see who it is.
“Hi,” you greet, surprised to see your aunt outside.
“I moved your seats for the wedding and reception,” she tells you. “Since you seem inseparable.”
“Thank you.”
“Sorry for earlier, and for interrupting. I’ll see you at the wedding.”
After you close the door, you press your hand against it and take a few breaths, surprised by her apologies.
“Are you okay?” Tim asks, sitting up as he watches you.
Walking back to his side, you lie down and move against him, smiling as you answer, “I’m great.”
Tim holds you close, both of you falling asleep on the same side of the oversized bed. When you wake up the following morning, you chuckle at the sight of it, with one side still made after a night in Tim’s arms.
✯✯✯✯✯
“You’ve been in there for a while,” Tim calls, tapping his knuckles against the bathroom door.
“Maybe she was right,” you answer. “I mean, the dress looked great on the mannequin, but…”
“Open the door,” Tim demands.
“No.”
“I will kick it down. You know I can.”
You pull the door open before he can do anything, and Tim’s eyes widen when he sees you.
“You look…”
“I know.”
“Perfect.”
Furrowing your brows, you look down at the dress.
“How do you feel?” Tim asks. “In the outfit, in general?”
 “I feel good, really good.”
“Well, you look even better. Don’t let whatever someone said make you think otherwise. And I was right.”
“About?”
“You’re gonna look better than the bride.”
Tim’s smile, accompanied by his kind words, makes you smile, wrapping your arms around his waist as you hug him tightly. Your relationship with him has changed this weekend, and you’re still giddy because you can tell him you love him whenever you want.
“I love you,” you say against his suit.
Tim pulls back quickly, looking into your eyes as he asks you to repeat it. After you do, he smiles and replies, “I love you. I’ve loved you for years.”
“We’re going to be late,” you remind him, narrowly dodging a kiss.
Shaking his head, Tim offers his arm, keeping you close as you walk to the wedding venue entrance. Finding your seats, you sit beside Tim, pulling one of his hands into your lap as you look at him.
“Those bouquets are really bright,” you say.
“Our wedding will be much better,” Tim agrees.
“We’re getting married now?” you ask, smiling.
Tim looks at you from the corner of his eye, shrugging as he says, “Why not?”
“I love you, Tim Bradford.”
“Thank you for letting me be your boyfriend this weekend,” he replies. “I love you.”
“Oh, you’re going to be my boyfriend for a lot longer than this weekend.”
“And after that?” Tim asks, interlacing his fingers with yours.
“That part is up to you, I think.”
You stand, keeping your hand in Tim’s as the wedding procession begins.
“Then, yes, we’re getting married,” Tim whispers. “But it will be perfect.”
Keeping your attention on one another throughout the ceremony, you fall in love with Tim again. After the bride and groom walk down the aisle together, you pull the paper clip ring from your dress pocket. Tim stands, and when he turns to you, you raise it.
“Tim Bradford, will you be my boyfriend?���
Tim chuckles, pulling you up to kiss you before you slide the ring onto his finger. He had nearly forgotten about giving it to you before leaving the station but seeing it on his finger makes him even more eager to marry you someday.
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trans-axolotl · 1 year
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hi! What is peer respite?
hi anon! I love talking about peer respite :D
Peer respite is a community-based alternative to psych wards. They offer 24/7 short term crisis stabilization-usually for around a week to 2 weeks. Unlike psych wards, they are completely voluntary and all the staff are people with experience with mental health/extreme states/being in the mental health system. Staff are extensively trained in peer support and mental health first aid, and oftentimes staff members will have other degrees in mental health or healthcare related fields. Usually, peer respite is in a house and it is a homelike environment where you can leave at any time, can have visitors, can have your phone, and can bring comfort items and preferred activities. At peer respites, there are no restraints used, no strip searches, and no solitary confinement.
Each peer respite is a little different, but I can tell you about one that my friend works at who is a social worker with lived experience of psychosis! When people decide to come to the peer respite, they usually make a plan for how they want their stay there to look like. Peer support workers will lead optional life skills/coping skills groups throughout the week, as well as other group activities for anyone who wants to participate. There is self-advocacy education, crisis planning options, and art wellness activities. Everyone is assigned a personal support worker who they can go to any time they need a check in or one-on-one support. Staff and guests work together to cook meals, and the entire stay is free of cost.
Since peer respite is an alternative to the psychiatric systems, most peer respites do not provide traditional therapy or psychiatric medications. Most peer respites will work with you to set up outpatient therapy services if you're interested, and I know a lot of people who continue to see the outpatient providers that they already have throughout their stay at peer respite.
A lot of people who go to peer respite have really positive experiences, and there's been several studies done looking at the outcome of crisis stays at peer respite. A lot of people speak positively about the homelike environment, being able to get emotional and crisis support without the fear of institutionalization, and being able to have autonomy about what your days look like, what choices you make, and what healing looks like to you. Some people stay at peer respite and are still able to go to school or work for the week while knowing that they have a safer environment to go back to.
Peer respite is not a perfect solution for everyone's experience of crisis. If you need a longer term stay, are looking for immediate clinical therapy, are someone who is searching for immediate medication support, or who needs immediate physical medical care--peer respite might not be able to meet your needs. Each peer respite house is going to be different, have different staff and visitors, and different policies, and some people might just not feel comfortable in a particular peer respite house. It's shitty and I hope this changes, but some peer respite houses are inaccessible, will have policies around drug use that might prevent people from staying, or have policies that prevent people who are homeless from staying. So, peer respite definitely isn't a perfect solution or something that can meet everyone's crisis needs, but is a really cool option that I hope continues to become available in more states.
Here's a directory with links to peer respites in the US, and here's research done about peer respite!
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homoeroticbetrayal · 1 year
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Iconic Homoerotic Betrayal: Round 2
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Round 2 Directory
Context:
Judas/Jesus
Summary by Clock
Judas sold Jesus to the Romans for 13 pieces of silver. He signaled the Romans and marked out Jesus amongst the disciples with a kiss. (He could have just pointed and said "that's Jesus" but he decided to kiss Jesus one last time.) He later hung himself, the 13 pieces of silver laid unspent by his feet.
Geto/Gojo
Summary by @gosephjoseph
Together, Satoru Gojo and Suguru Geto were “The Strongest” in both power and bond, each other could seemingly endure anything as long as they had each other. Geto was Gojo’s moral compass who taught him compassion towards the weak and inspired Gojo to protect others in spite of himself and was able to unlock his true potential. Geto, ultimately, burnt out from his consumption of curses and disdain for humanity ended up denouncing his ways in a violent matter. When confronted by Gojo, Geto made it clear that this was his path to fight for whereas Gojo could simply do what Geto was set out to do without effort. The two were no longer the strongest together, Gojo had become the strongest alone and was not aware until after Geto left. Once aware of this change, Gojo states that it isn’t enough for him to be “the strongest” if he couldn’t save those (Geto) who didn’t allow himself to be saved.
Despite the death penalty on Geto’s head, Gojo refuses to kill him right away, and even after he manages to 10 years later does not allow his body to be cremated which enables the cursed deity Kenjaku to inhabit his body. Kenjaku exploits Gojo’s weakness for Geto in Shibuya, basing his entire plan on the notion that the unstoppable all-powerful Gojo Satoru would only stop at the sight of the late Geto Suguru, and he was correct. Gojo is able to see through the farce and rejects his Six Eyes telling him that it’s the same Geto Suguru as his SOUL knows that it isn’t him.
Throughout their story, despite the betrayal the two hold each other in their hearts; Geto fondly remembering Gojo while Gojo still holds trust for him even after Geto proves to be an active threat. His last words to Geto, while unreleased to the audience, are able to make Geto smile fondly and asked to be cursed instead.
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alexaloraetheris · 8 months
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I juat remembered the day, about two months ago, when I went to renew my perscription and ended up derailed by some kind of divine influence that really, really wanted my help. 😂
So I have an appointment at 9. First thing I do is sleep in because my alarm simply did not ring. First time that happened. I cursed out the damn phone and ordered a taxi, which I had specifically hoping to avoid because of the traffic congestion.
My driver is a woman a bit older than me, and she's in a good mood so we chat. She told me she was thinking of moving to [city on the coast] because taxi drivers are paid better there, and I tell her I have family there, we comment on what it's like to drive in a city essentially built into three hills and a cliff. She mentiones she has scoliosis, and it sometimes impacts her ability to sit in a car for long periods of time. I had scoliosis as well, but I had managed to fix it with exercises almost completely so I recommended my physical therapist, and assured her it's not too late, because some of the people in my therapy group were even older than her. When she let me off she thanked me for the help.
Feeling good that, even if I had to pay out the nose for the ride, I got there in time and even managed to do a good deed. I rush in, tell the reception guy I'm here to see my doctor and settle in to wait.
Two hours later, I see people being called in but not my name. I ask why, and doctor looks at me blankly and says I'm not in the system. I have to tell the reception I've arrived so I show up on his schedule.
I'm mentally cursing out the entire hospital, but I wasn't raised by wolves. I thank the doctor, politely tell the different receptionist that the last guy probably didn't hear me when I told him my appointment, got added in and went back to wait.
Ten minutes later, a visibly nervous girl with freshly printed papers sits in the waiting room. I'm in a bit of a mood, but I'm also a firm believer in helping if I can. I paste on a smile and ask 'First time?' and she admits she just got sent here for a potential ADHD diagnosis and she had no idea what to do. Having been there and knowing exactly how hard it was to do it on your own, I gave her the number of the psychologist who made my diagnosis, assured her that the psychiatrist she was here to see is the same one I have and that he's a good guy, explained what ADHD actually was and how the meds work. She was neraly crying with relief by the time I was done, and I promised she could send me questions if she needs to.
I finally, finally go in for my appointment in a slightly better mood, only for my psychiatrist to tell me Concerta is no longer imported, I have to go on some other meds and for that I need my family doctor to sign off on a regular perscription instead of getting an Rx perscription from him.
This is the worst case scenario, because I do NOT want my mother, who thinks ADHD was invented by quack American psychologists to sell expensive meds to parents with unruly children, to know I have ADHD. So I mentally curse out the entire healthcare system, go to the family doctor and explain the situation, that my mother absolutely CANNOT know about my diagnosis. Even though the doctor was not aware of my diagnosis so far, she listens attentively, and we make sure that my mom can't check the insurance we're both under to see what meds I'm on or that if she checks my name in the pharmacy directory she can't see me either.
I thought I handled that situation rather well but I must have looked more worried than I thought, because the doctor admitted her high-school age granddaughter had been asking questions about psychologists and antidepressants and she had so far been dismissive. But if she really needs help, she might do the same thing I did and seek help on her own, and my doctor realized she ought to either change her attitude fast or be left in the dark while her granddaughter is struggling. So I told her which psychologist I went to when I was also a depressed high schooler and how it helped and what I would have wanted my family to keep in mind. She thanks me and hands me a new perscription and sends me on my way.
So by now I am starting to notice a pattern.
Now, I'm actually an atheist, and I have 'Culturally Catholic' as a flaw and a laundry list of Stuff(TM) I have had to unlearn, but sometimes I really wonder if Someone Up There looked at me that day and thought:
"Hmm, looks like I have three problems I can solve with one well-positioned dumbass. Time to ruin her day for the good of the world!"
I mean. Happy to help but I really hope ruining my day won't be necessary next time.
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allsmilesreally7 · 5 months
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you’re on your own, kid–chapter nine
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series masterlist
pairing: Rafe Cameron x female reader
word count: 6.5k
warnings: swearing, vomiting, anxiety, depression, mentions of food/food monitoring, ptsd (nightmares, panic attacks) mentions of rape and sexual assault, mentions of eating disorder/throwing up, mentions of cocaine addition and withdrawal, smoking, counseling (please let me know if I missed any!)
a/n: thanks for reading this far! also a big thank you to my dear friend @runningfrom2am and two glasses of sav for motivating me to post this chapter even though i have my doubts.
PLEASE READ: this story will contain dark topics of eating disorders, vomiting, rape, and sexual assault (not by Rafe). Please proceed with caution and do not read if these are triggering topics to you!! This fic is in no way intended to romanticize any type of sexual abuse or disordered eating.
If you are a victim of rape or sexual assault, please know that you are worthy and your feelings are valid. Please contact the following for resources and professionals who can help you:
US–National Sexual Assault Hotline: 1-800-656-4673/https://www.rainn.org
UK– Rape Crisis England and Wales https://rapecrisis.org.uk
AUS– https://www.nasasv.org.au/support-directory
EU– https://www.rcne.com
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Rafe woke you up at seven am Monday morning.
The past week, he’s let you sleep until close to noon, since you woke constantly throughout the night. The weekend since your return from the hospital Friday night has been no different: Rafe would wake up to your screams in the middle of the night, rushing to your room and staying with you until you calmed down enough to sleep again or pass out from exhaustion, whichever came first.
“Why are you waking me up,” you grumbled, rubbing your tired eyelids with your knuckles.
“We have therapy in a few hours—on the mainland,” he clarified, but it did nothing to stop your eyes widening in fear as he spoke.
You knitted your brows, your breaths becoming erratic and heavy. “Wait–what?”
Rafe nodded and crouched down to where you were scooting yourself further away on your bed. “Honey, we have to get you help. We talked about this.”
Your throat bobbed. “It’s on the mainland,” he continued, resting a hand on your bedspread next to your own. “I promise, you won’t have to run into anybody you don’t want to see. And your parents will not find out. I took every precaution I could think of.”
His words gave you little comfort as tears welled in your eyes. This was entirely too much information first thing in the morning. What you didn’t remember was that Rafe told you all of this already, several times, over the weekend, but you were too spaced out to be listening to him.
Rafe watched your shoulders shake as you hunched over, eyes keeping straight ahead. His hand remained, available for you to hold at your convenience.
After a few minutes, you pushed past him and headed to the bathroom to begin your morning routine of drowning out your retching with the sounds of the running shower.
Rafe had already been dressed and ready to go when you emerged from your room after your shower, breathing heavy and wearing jeans and a crewneck amid the late-May humidity.
“Are you sure you don’t want to change,” he raised a brow. “It’s starting to get hot out there, and I don’t want you to be uncomfortable on the car ride.”
“No,” you answered sternly while crossing your arms. He couldn’t help but notice every inch of your skin was covered, even down to the sneakers you’d opted for instead of sandals.
“Okay,” he signed. “You ready?”
You furrowed your brows, three wrinkles appearing on the skin of your forehead, but nodded once.
Rafe took the lead, picking up your bag for you and getting the keys. You stared at the front door with your arms crossed, not having moved an inch. He stood still for a moment while you looked between the door and your shoes, unable to take the first step.
“Y/N? You okay?”
You bit the inside of your cheek and curled your toes in your shoes. There was a whole world out there, full of people that could see you and noises that would scare you. There were people that were dangerous and people that you knew—that knew your parents. There was a risk they all could see you, or see you with Rafe and wonder why the two of you would be together given your history. The world was full of people to see, emotions to be felt, conversations to be had—and that terrified you.
“Hey,” he said softly, coming to your side. “I know it’s hard, but it’s gonna be okay. I’ll be with you every step of the way.”
“Stop patronizing me,” you spat, your emotions overwhelming you. You didn’t know what you should feel. “I didn’t ask to do this.”
“I know,” he kept his voice a steady calm, “I know you didn’t. But I’m running out of ways to help you here.”
He was right—he tried just about anything he could think of to help you in the confines of your one-bedroom apartment. He offered to watch TV, to read with you, to paint, to talk, but you wanted nothing to do with him. He’s tried everything except tie you down and force-feed you, succumb to too many sleepless nights checking up on you, but mostly cared for you when no one else would. You knew he’s at his wits end with you, and rightfully so. You’d been nothing but horrible to him all his life, and now he was stuck with the burden of you.
You wanted him to bring you the pill and leave, then hopefully never speak of it again for as long as you both should live, but you should have known Rafe’s heart of gold better than that. Of course he would care for you, even if you didn’t deserve it. Even if he thought you deserved what happened to you, and you know he wouldn’t think that. Rafe Cameron was the biggest playboy on the island but he would never believe any woman, no matter how vile, deserved this.
You didn’t deserve him, or the kindness he showed you.
“I promise you, I did everything I could think to make you comfortable. I researched the best psychologists I could find, and I made sure it was a single office so you wouldn’t have to see any other people while you’re there.” He didn’t mention how he asked for your input—multiple times—when scouring the internet for doctors. This one went to grad school at Columbia, he told you. At least you two would have that in common if nothing else. But like every other time in your lives, you pushed him away, rolling your eyes and stomping to your room.
You owed him this. He’d gone to all this trouble for you because he cares about you. Why? You didn’t know yet, but he didn’t deserve your cold exterior either way. The least you could do is make this easier on him, but at what cost? He said he took precautions, but there would always be a risk, and that scared you more than anything. You couldn’t let yourself be vulnerable again—look where it got you.
He reached his hand up to rest it on your shoulder, but you pulled away. You staggered towards the door, clenching your fists up in your shirtsleeves and hoping Rafe wouldn’t catch the tear rolling down your cheek as you made your way to the car.
The drive took about two hours, the majority of the first hour spent in line for the ferry to the mainland. Rafe informed you he had a standing appointment for you every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday at ten at a single psychologist's office on the mainland.
This is what your life has amounted to: driven to therapy by a guy that can stand to be around you, for what reason you didn’t know, since you find yourself so insufferable currently.
He pulled into the small lot next to a red-brick building, two stories high with multiple single-office businesses inside. He opened the passenger door like the perfect gentleman, ushering you inside quickly and away from the sun's rays beginning to penetrate the hot pavement.
You felt the same way you did when your dad brought you to the doctor's office at eleven years old, having gone to every other appointment with your nanny before your mother fired her, claiming you were old enough to care for yourself.
It was humiliating; he did the best he could, but he didn’t know what to do with his oddball daughter who spoke like a grown up and watched CNN instead of the Disney channel. You felt like everyone was staring at you that day, just like the way you felt them staring today.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Rafe sat anxiously in the small waiting area for the next hour. He knew he was asking a lot of you today. He knew it was difficult for you to leave the safety of your home, but he also knew nothing in your home could help you, especially himself.
The chair seemed too small for his broad frame to fit into, the air was too crisp with the fresh linen fragrance from the plug-in around the corner, and the hands on his watch clicked a little too loudly for him to concentrate on biting the nail of his thumb down to the nub.
The sound of the door handle turning broke his attention away, the bouncing of his knee ceasing. You rushed out of the office with a stern face and brushed off his greeting smile. He looked to the doctor while you shut the entrance door a little too forcefully, his eyes widening in surprise.
The doctor motioned for him to follow her around the corner, and though his heartbeat sped up at the thought of you outside alone, he obliged.
“She barely spoke to me, Rafe,” she told him sternly.
“Oh my god,” he muttered, rubbing his forehead with the palm of his hand.
“I think you pushed her too quickly into this. I don’t know if she was emotionally ready to start speaking to someone today.”
The psychologist was middle aged, female, academically acclaimed with common interests as you, specializing in sexual trauma survivors—he made sure of it. He did everything to make sure you’d be comfortable with the only other person you’d be seeing on a weekly basis. He asked you for your opinion after he spent hours and hours reading reviews, but you always brushed him off.
He knew you’d accepted his plea that night on the hospital bed, when he’d wept and begged for you to help yourself. A small part of him knew you weren’t ready, but he thought if it were up to you, you’d never be ready, and looked at it like ripping off a band aid, hoping that giving you a little push would help you at least be able to eat a full meal. Now it’s his stomach that churns at the thought of you suffering at his hand.
“God–fuck. I can’t–You don’t understand though,” he argued. “She’s not eating, she’s not sleeping. She passed out for god's sake, and she won’t talk to me. She’s killing herself, and I can’t stand by and watch her do it.”
“I know, Rafe,” she looked into his watery eyes. “I know you have good intentions. There’s nothing we can do to change it now; we’ll try again on Wednesday. Try to talk to her again—when she’s listening to you, not when she’s lost in her head.”
He brushed away a stray tear. His heart ached.
“It’s going to take time,” she continued, “but we’ll help her heal. You just have to be patient.”
Rafe found you leaning against the brick building, crouched down to your knees with your head in your hands. Rafe slid down to sit next to you, feeling equally defeated. He knew you felt his presence when you tried to quiet the sobs muffled in your lap.
He broke the silence after a minute because he knew you wouldn’t. “I’m sorry if I pushed you into this.”
You sniffed in response.
“I don’t know what else to do, honey,” he pleaded. “I can’t sit around and watch you suffer anymore. I want to help you, and I’m trying to, but I don’t know how.”
You brought your shirtsleeve up and wiped your nose, lulling your head back against the brick. You didn’t know what to say to him, so you said nothing.
The two of you sat in silence again for some minutes, hearing the distant waves crashing and the occasional car horn as the only sounds surrounding you. You were utterly alone except for the odd car passing the street several yards to your right.
Rafe turned to look at you, your skin splotchy and cheeks wet, and studied you for a minute. “You’re beautiful,” he blurted out, without thinking. Well, that’s a lie—he was thinking: thinking of how beautiful you are, since that's typically the only thought going around in his head at any given time.
You looked down to your lap, trying to conceal the smirk growing on your lips but failing miserably.
When you didn’t respond, and he was certain you wouldn’t, he stood up, brushing the dust from his shorts.
“C’mon,” he started, extending his hands for you to stand with him. “Let’s get going. It’s starting to get hot.”
You accepted his hands, rough and calloused with a gentle demeanor, and he helped pull you up. He didn’t miss the wince of pain flash across your face.
He led you to his car, into the passenger seat with a pillow on it. I thought it’d be more comfortable for you to sit on since you’re still sore, he said gently when you left your apartment this morning. He thought of everything to help make this easier for you.
“You didn’t eat,” he stated once he sat down in the driver's seat. “Do you want to get breakfast? I saw a café on the other block we could stop at?”
You shook your head. You weren’t up for seeing any more people today. “McDonald’s drive thru?” He questioned, raising an eyebrow.
“No.” At least you were giving him one-word answers now.
“Okay then,” he sighed, putting the car into gear. “If you get hungry on the way home, you tell me and we’ll stop, okay?”
Even with the grumbling in your stomach Rafe no doubt heard, you didn’t say another word the rest of the drive to the ferry.
While the car was parked on the ferry back to the island, the two of you seated inside, he asked you again if you wanted to eat.
You didn’t bother to answer.
He knew you must be hungry, as he himself was starving as the clock neared noon.
“Do you want to go sit up on the deck? I feel like getting some fresh air,” he offered, hoping that if he made the gesture about himself you would oblige. You didn’t.
You declined his offer to turn on music; he hoped to gauge your mood by what song you chose, but you offered him nothing. Rafe had hoped your sour mood would lighten during your time in the car, but leaving you to sulk in your thoughts didn’t help him in any way.
He wondered for a brief second if he was harming you more than helping you. Sure, no one else knew what you were doing cooped up in your apartment alone, but was pestering you to eat when you didn’t want to and leave the house making things worse?
Once the ferry crossed onto the island, he asked you again if you wanted to stop at a bakery, hoping your favorite pastry would win you over and brighten your difficult day.
“No,” you answered crossly. “Take me home.” He felt the familiar tremble of heat waver across the console to him; the same heat he’d felt many times before when you were angry at him.
He obeyed with raised brows, and once he pulled into the familiar car park and opened your front door, you stormed to your room where he didn’t see you the rest of the day.
Tuesday morning Rafe heard your feet padding against the hardwood floor while he was making pancakes in the kitchen.
He looked up to you; your hair tangled with sleep, donned in an oversized sweatshirt and knit shorts.
“Morning,” he grinned at you. “I made pancakes.”
You gave him a half-smile while you sat on a barstool at the counter. He placed a plate in front of you with two golden pancakes topped with banana slices in the shape of a smiley face.
“I have more if you want,” he added, but he would be happy if you ate the two he gave you. He soon joined you with his own plate, double the height of yours, and the two of you ate in silence.
“What do you want to do today?” He asked.
“Nothing,” you replied somberly.
“C’mon, Y/N. I want to get out of the house with you. We can go to the park down–” he was cut off by the ringing of a phone—your phone. He almost forgot you even had a phone, seeing as how you were barely using it these days.
You looked down at where it was placed on the counter, then back up at the ceiling, like you were cursing whoever was up there doing this to you.
Rafe looked at your phone and saw one word: Dad.
You let it go to voicemail, but the call came back immediately. You picked up after three rings.
“Hey, dad,” he heard you say in a steady voice—a voice he hadn’t heard all week—while you stood from your chair, plastering your face with a mask of confidence.
“Yeah I was in the shower when you called. That’s why I couldn’t answer right away,” you lied— a pause. “What did he tell you?”
Rafe looked at you with wide eyes which you mirrored. What? he mouthed. Your eyes darted frantically back and forth and he saw the lump in your throat you swallowed.
He joined you where you were pacing the living room, putting a firm hand on your trembling shoulder. He motioned to the phone, and you seemed to understand what he was asking. You put the phone on speaker.
“–and he said he saw an ambulance go into your apartment over the weekend. Now why would he say that, Y/N? Did you get hurt? Did you go to the hospital this weekend and not tell me?”
Your panicked eyes met Rafe’s—you were caught in your lie, and for a second you didn’t know what you would do to dig yourself out. His breath quickened. He could say it was him; that he was at your apartment and fell and knocked his head, or something stupid like that. That would absolve you, though it would make himself look like a fool.
He pointed to himself, silently telling you Say it was me. Say I got hurt and you called it for me.
“Hello? Y/N? Did you hear me?”
You shook your head furiously, mask of indifference coming back on. “No, dad, I’m fine. I didn’t see anything this weekend. It must’ve been called to another unit.”
You paused with a waited breath, hoping he would believe your lie. Your dad sighed with a chuckle, “That old bastard doesn’t have a clue what he’s talking about.” You breathed a sigh of relief in tandem with Rafe. “I just worry about you, honey. I’m still getting used to not having you home.”
“I know you do, but I promise you I’m okay.” Rafe didn’t miss the way your voice cracked on your last word.
“Okay, honey. I love you. I’ll see you soon.”
“I love you, too.” Rafe reached his finger up to wipe the tear escaping your eyelid while you hung up the phone—and broke down.
He had to catch you before you fell to the ground, lowering you gently to lean against the back of the couch. He joined you on the floor, crossed legged while you held your knees to your chest and cried.
He slowly moved a hand to your hair, flinching but allowing his touch after all.
“I don’t like lying to him,” you admitted through your broken cries. His fingertips rubbed circles in your scalp.
“I know you don't,” was all he said in response, because what could he say? All he could do was be there for you as you cried it out for hours.
On Wednesday morning you drove back to the mainland in silence. Rafe waited again anxiously for you, making eye contact with the doctor once you emerged from your session fuming when she shook her head. You hadn’t revealed much to her today, either.
Rafe had decided he would let you move at your own pace from now on, keeping his intentions out in the open since your own secrets ate away at you so deeply, but he could do his part by nudging you in the right direction, and maybe some of his old fuckboy charm that used to have you seething would do the trick.
You sat back down in his Range Rover with a huff.
“What?” he questioned. “Not good today?”
You scowled and rolled your eyes in response. At least he was getting a reaction out of you.
“Hungry? I know I’m starved.” He pressed. You flipped him off while your eyes were trained out the window.
He chuckled, handing you his phone. “Why don’t you pick some music for the ride back?” You snatched it out of his hand and began scrolling.
His mouth twinged upwards when he saw which album you picked. It was one of your childhood favorites: Paramore’s Riot!, the same songs you would always play when you were angry, especially at him.
He smiled to himself, remembering the songs blaring from your childhood bedroom all too well. So that’s the kind of day it was going to be.
Before he turned into the main drag taking you to the port, he pulled into the McDonalds drive thru. He could practically hear the furrowing of your brows from across the center console.
He ordered himself a ridiculous amount of food, only fitting for a college football running back. He turned to you. “Want anything?” he asked with that stupid smirk he knew you hated.
“No,” you growled.
He turned his back to you. “I’ll also take a bacon, egg, and cheese biscuit meal.” His shit-eating grin radiated across the car as bright as those golden arches.
When you pulled up to the window he paid with his black card, acting especially saccharinely to the employee who’d rather be anywhere but here, making you gag silently.
When he received your food, he placed the sandwich wrapped in your lap, the heat seeping through the foil and your leggings, lighting your skin ablaze. You picked it up and resisted the urge to chuck it at him.
He put your drinks in the cup holder between you, only muttering “Eat up,” with a wink, and drove off to the port.
You were halfway across the sound—and Rafe was halfway through his third McGriddle—when you peeled back the wrapper and began to pick at your biscuit. He kept groaning dramatically the whole time he was eating, telling you with a mouth full of biscuit how this was the best breakfast he’s ever had and how that location has to be the best McDonald’s in the whole state. So you really started eating to shut him up, but he didn’t care. At least you were eating. He would transform himself back into high school annoying douchebag Rafe for you to prove him wrong, and if that’s how you ended up nourishing yourself, so be it. He didn’t care at this point what your intentions were, as long as you’re eating.
You later stepped out of the car in your apartment complex as Rafe groaned and stretched his arms up, lifting his shirt and exposing the soft hairs of his stomach. “Oh, God,” he moaned. “I ate too much. I need to walk some of this off.” He looked at you with a cheeky smile, patting his stomach.
“Not a chance,” you spat back. “Now give me my keys to my apartment.”
Neither one of you dared to address how your apartment key ended up on Rafe’s keychain, or his new clothes that should show up every few days at your doorstep. Or the freshly washed clothes that would wind up back in your dresser drawer—clothes you definitely didn’t wash. You didn’t have the energy to fight those battles, so you spent the rest of the day in your room with music blaring like you were twelve years-old again.
On Thursday Rafe got you to eat a bagel with cream cheese around lunchtime and you laid in your bed while he watched TV on a low volume. You lunged for the bathroom twenty minutes later. That was all you did that day.
On Friday when you emerged from the small office, Rafe noticed a small book sticking out of your purse and a scowl on your face. You narrowed your eyes as you passed him, stating you were going to the bathroom before the drive back home.
The psychologist shortly followed, meeting Rafe in the waiting room.
“Anything?” Rafe asked hopefully.
She shook her head. “She’s not ready to talk. I gave her a journal to write in, to see if she can at least release her thoughts in that way.”
She turned her body toward him, speaking in a low, accusing voice. “She needs to feel safe before she can start to open up, and that includes feeling safe to express herself at home.” He knew what she was implying; Rafe would never in a million years invade your privacy by reading your journal, though he desperately wanted to know what was going on in your head. You would open up to him when you were ready—if you you’re ever ready.
You emerged from the bathroom down the hall, frowning when you saw the pair talking, undoubtedly about you.
“Ready to go?” Rafe asked, holding his hand out to you. You sighed and crossed your arms, brushing past him like he was nothing but a piece of gum stuck on the sidewalk. The doctor gave him a hopeful look before he followed you outside.
“It’s Memorial Day weekend,” he stated, squinting without his sunglasses in the late morning sunlight.
“So I’ve heard.”
He pulled your door open and offered you a hand, which you refused. Once you were settled he seated himself. “We should do something.”
“No,” you answered immediately.
“Did your parents ask you to come to their barbecue?” He asked once you were on the next road.
You swallowed nervously. “No.”
Rafe hummed at your lie. “My dad invited me—us, actually, but I told him you probably wouldn’t want to go.”
“You’re not my caretaker,” you spat, surely still a little bit mad Rafe told his dad your secret. “You don’t need to speak for me.”
“No,” he reconciled, “but we have been spending a lot of time together.”
“I suppose.”
“I suppose that means we should try to get along. Y’know, like do stuff together.”
You deigned to answer, only looking over at him when he pulled in the Starbucks drive thru.
“I really don’t feel like this,” you admitted, slumping your head against the window. Whether you were referring to the drink or this argument, he didn’t know.
He ordered your favorite drink anyway. “Just in case you get thirsty on the way home,” he winked.
Rafe was driving out of the port when he tried again. “You want to go to the beach today? I don’t think it will be too busy yet since the tourists are still getting in.”
You shook your head, not even bothering with the words this time.
You were pulling into your complex when Rafe asked you one last time. “C’mon, Y/N/N. Why don’t we go to your favorite spot? It’s super secluded and I’m sure we won’t see–”
“No!” You shouted in the middle of this thought. “I’m not fucking going anywhere with you.”
Rafe froze, blinking his eyes at your outburst.
“I’m already going to the mainland with you three times a week,” you continued, the strain in your voice making your words hoarse. “I can’t go anywhere else, so stop asking.”
You sounded desperate; pleading for him to stop bugging you about this, but Rafe was relentless. “Why can’t you, Y/N?” He spoke with as much fervor as you had. “Why? Is it because you don’t want to be seen with me? Is that it?”
“No,” you choked out, your eyes dampening.
His words were laced with passion, with venom—with every insecurity he’s ever felt at the receiving end of one of your glares. “No? Well it sure seems like it. You’ve spent your whole life embarrassed to be seen with me, and I’m starting to think–”
“Jesus Christ, Rafe,” you groaned. “Not everything is about you. I know you think the word revolves around you, but do you seriously think I’m embarrassed to be seen with you? After we’ve been friends our whole fucking lives?”
“It’s hard to not think that when you always act like you want nothing to do with me, and you know how I feel about you.” He was devastated, the hurt in his heart from years of rejection seeping out into his words. “All I’m doing is trying to help you, and you want no part of it. And now, after two weeks, I can’t help but think it’s me.” You have to know everything he does is for you—everything he’s ever done has been for you, because of you. He’s trying to goddamn hard to be right for you, but you always seem to make him feel utterly inadequate.
You rolled your eyes. “Of course you think this is all about you,” you scoffed, patience growing thin.
“Then what is this about,” he demanded, curling his fists on his knees. “You won’t fucking talk to me, or the therapist I spent hours finding for you, or anyone. So please, enlighten me on why you refuse to do anything to help yourself.” Rafe was trying to be gentle with you, but his patience was weakened. He rubbed his sweaty palms against the material of his jeans.
The tears escaping your eyes broke his heart, the trembling of your hands the stake through his chest to finish the job.
“I don’t want to see them again,” you croaked.
He blinked once, twice, then again. “Them?”
You stared at him.
“Who? Who do you not want to see?” You blinked, and he knew.
You looked down at your lap. His nails bit his sticky palms; he could see the rage bubbling up in his blood as if it were a thermometer about to boil over.
“Them,” he repeated with a clenched jaw. “You don’t want to see them?”
You didn’t acknowledge his question.
“How many people did this?” He spoke eerily softly, like his rage would be preserved and contained until the moment he could get his hands on these people. These people. There were multiple violent criminals, absolute scum of the earth people walking around out there like nothing ever happened—like your life wasn’t just destroyed.
You shook your head, instead bringing your thumbnail to your mouth to chew on.
He grabbed your chin between his thumb and index finger, tilting your head to look at his. You gasped and jumped. “How many, Y/N?”
The water in your eyes dried instantly in the flames that replaced them, the stream seemingly radiating right off you and into the stuffy air of the car. “Don’t you fucking touch me.” You slapped his hand down from your face, reaching over to grab his keys out of the ignition and storming out.
Rafe scrambled out of the vehicle, his legs and words failing him as he tried to keep up and apologized profusely. You fumbled with the keys once you got to your door, hands trembling and your eyes blurry, Rafe trailing closely behind you. He tried to help you but you pushed him away, so hard he nearly stumbled back into the wall across the hallway.
Once you flung the door open, he tried following you into your bedroom.
“Y/N, I’m so sorry. Please talk to me,” he pleaded. “I’m such an asshole, I just got angry. I’m sorry, honey, please.”
You whipped around, pushing back against his chest when his momentum kept him going forward. “I want to be alone, Rafe.” Your eyes glared at him with fury. He hated himself—hated making it about himself, again.
“I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean to upset you,” he groveled.
“Rafe,” you trembled in a quieter voice, and his heart broke at your sniffles and quivering jaw. “I really want to be alone right now. Please just leave.”
He bowed his head but nodded once, respecting your wishes even though it killed him, turning around and slamming your front door shut behind him so hard you swore the whole building shook.
Rafe returned to your apartment two hours later, flowers and a croissant from your favorite bakery in hand. He didn’t know where to go when he left, as it would have been the first time in two weeks he’s ventured out into the town alone. It felt foreign to him—he always knew his world revolved around you, but now the thought of you consumed him, every fiber of his being tangled with yours. He didn’t realize just how used to your presence he got, even while you were pushing him away, until you were gone.
He needed to let off some steam, as did you. He went to the corner gas station and bought a pack of cigarettes, smoking almost half the pack sitting in his car. He hadn’t smoked cigarettes since high school—and he quickly remembered why he’d moved onto the harder stuff. He knew it was a slip, but he was stressed and needed some release, and he wasn’t going to subject himself to going to Barry’s trailer (even though he found himself driving down the familiar road to the Cut, he quickly turned around).
He’d given you time to cool off, and he was hoping it was all you needed before you would listen to him. This was your first time being away from him since it happened, and he hoped he didn’t leave you alone too long. He knew you were a big girl and spent many afternoons alone before, but he couldn't help but worry, especially when he left you in such a fragile state.
He drove to the old town and stopped in the bakery and florist respectively. He picked you up an almond croissant and a bouquet of your favorite flowers, heading back to your apartment before either his desires or his regrets overtook his mind.
He knocked a few times, giving you an out if you so wished, but heard nothing. He used his key—your spare he found hanging by the door one day and added to his own keychain—and let himself inside.
The first thing he noticed was the quiet. He didn’t hear any crying, or vomiting, which calmed him but also made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He thought of that night one week ago exactly, when he’d found you lying on the bathroom floor. He thought he lost you forever, and he swore his heart dropped the same way it had that night. Yet he looked down the hall and the bathroom door was open, unoccupied.
He knocked on your bedroom door and when he received no answer he peeked his head inside. Your bed was empty.
He opened the door wider and glanced around. You were sitting in a chair on the balcony connected to your room, writing in the journal given to you by the therapist.
You looked focused, but peaceful; the tip of your tongue poking out between your lips as it did many times in class when you were concentrating really hard on something. He smiled at that, remembering all the times he’d been so enthralled with you in class that his friends would throw wads of paper at him to get his attention.
You didn’t dare glance up until he stepped onto the balcony to join you, helping himself to the matching chair across from you. He sat your flowers and treat on the table between you.
You sniffed once. “You've been smoking?” You didn’t sound accusatory, or reprimanding, more so like stating a fact.
Rafe lowered his head in shame, bringing a hand up to scratch the back of his neck. “Yeah…I-uh…I needed something.” He hoped you caught onto what he was trying to tell you without literally saying I needed coke so bad that my bones hurt but I couldn’t do that to you. From the way you lowered your eyes back to the page and continued writing, you did.
“I-I got these for you,” he stuttered, motioning to the table in front of him. You kept writing.
He sighed. “Y/N, I’m sorry. Can we talk?” He wanted to talk, but he had to make sure you were listening, just like the doctor said. “Can you look at me?”
You sighed and closed the journal, setting it and your pen down in the crease between the chair and cushion. You met his eyes, urging him to go on with your guards up.
“I’m sorry I got upset with you earlier. I was just being selfish, and insecure,” he admitted. “But I want you to know I didn’t mean to minimize what you’re going through. I didn’t mean to make it about myself, I guess I just have a bad habit of doing that.”
He chuckled slightly, but you didn’t laugh.
“I don’t think you’re ashamed to be seen with me. Like I said, I was just being selfish and I guess some other shit came out with it. You shouldn’t have to worry about that right now, though. You should just focus on yourself, and I want to be here for you.”
Your once rock-hard expression softened, a crease finding home between your brows. Rafe wanted to smooth it away so badly.
“I promise you won’t have to deal with my shit like that again. The last thing I want to do is hurt you, or make you upset in any way, or do anything to keep you from…processing all of this.” Rafe had to choose his words carefully, not wanting to make you feel weak or inferior in any way. “You have to believe me.”
“I do,” you replied in a gentle voice, nodding lightly and making Rafe’s face soften like butter.
“I want to be honest with you, and I ask that you be honest with me in return.” You furrowed your brows harder, and Rafe decided to ask his question before making you respond. “I know you haven’t been talking with your therapist.”
You looked down at your hands in shame. He continued: “Do you not get along with her? We can find you someone else if you don’t feel comfortable with her–”
You shook your head and cut him off before he could offer to go to more trouble for you. “It’s not that, it’s just…” you trailed off.
“Just what, honey?” He urged, leaning in with his elbows on his knees.
“I’m just not…ready,” you confessed.
He nodded solemnly, thinking carefully before he reacted. “Do you think this could help you? Do you think you could ever be ready to talk, to her or to someone else?” To me, he wanted to add. Do you think you could ever want to talk to me?
You thought long and hard. Rafe was about to repeat himself when you said, “I-I don’t know.”
He nodded again, face softening. It wasn’t a no.
He smiled tenderly. “Then we’ll keep trying.”
You didn’t smile back, but you bit the inside of your lip as you nodded in agreement. You unfolded your legs from under you, reaching out to grab the white paper bag on the table in front of you.
“Thank you, for this,” you pointed. “You didn’t have to do that.”
Rafe smiled again, blushing slightly. “You deserve it. You deserve everything good in this world, and so much more.”
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starrgaziinggg · 3 months
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SMAU | undercover JYP-U
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chapter 34 -> a night to remember
Walking out of the exam hall on Friday afternoon had you feeling ecstatic. It had been a long two weeks, not only considering exam prep. With the account revealing Jeongin's 'secret', your mind hadn't been able to solely focus on studying.
You had no idea who was running this account. Revealing your friend group's secrets was one thing, but to lie about Jeongin stealing exam answers was something else entirely. It took on a whole new malicious level of thinking, and you had no idea who would hate you all enough to do something like that.
Disregarding those thoughts to the back of your mind, you had said your farewells to Minho, Lix and Hyunjin as you and Chae had walked back towards your dorm to get ready for the party. Hyunjin had told you the boys spent hours putting up decorations in their dorm, trying their best to reign in the Halloween theme for Ryujin.
"I'm so fucking glad that exams are over," Chae sighs, practically skipping along the street as you descend towards the guys dorm.
It had taken you both three hours to get ready, after returning from your exam. The other girls had started an hour before you'd even arrived.
"You have no idea how much I'm looking forward to getting drunk tonight," she continued, spinning around in her costume. Ryujin had planned Harry Potter themed outfits for her, Yuna, Chae and Lia, and while the former three girls looked incredible, poor Lia was still stuffed in her bed with the flu.
"Oh girl," you chuckle, watching your friend smile back at you with glee, laughing when Yuna attempts to push Ryujin into a bush in front of you. "I know exactly how you feel."
And you did. The only things on your mind were 1. To have fun and wash away the stress of exams tonight and 2. To find out what monster was behind this account.
You knew it was taking a toll on your friends, too. Jeongin, the usually chirpy boy with the biggest, 'I don't give a fuck' mindset out of anyone of your friends, had been reduced to a shell of himself after his so called secret was leaked. You, Hyunjin and Minho had sat with him for hours consoling him and trying to figure out a way to navigate the situation.
What you couldn't wrap your head around was why the account would lie about Jeongin's 'secret'. It made no sense considering everything else they had revealed was fact. It threw a spanner in the works for you, and it was hard to pin the blame on anyone.
"Wait till you see the guys in their costumes," Ryujin claps her hands, grinning like a maniac. She'd spent hours choosing which costumes to give them, since none of them had the time (nor the energy) to choose them themselves. Maybe it was a bad idea to leave her in charge. At least, some of the boys would definitely agree. She'd been especially brutal with Changbin's outfit, all things considered.
Walking into the boys dorm, what could only be described as chaos ensued. Ryujin had clearly spared no expense, and you counted Hyunjin lucky that you'd forced Ryujin to let him do a couples costume with you and keep him out of her evil scheme.
Jeongin was jumping from furniture to furniture, pretending to shoot webs out of his hands while Chan shouted at him. Chan's costume might have been your favourite as you stood clinging to Ryujin as laughter overcomes you. It might have been, but when you turned to your left and caught a glimpse of Changbin, your opinion quickly changed. Ryujin literally collapsed into a heap on the floor laughing at him.
"I know we've had our fair share of disagreements, but really Jin?" Changbin whines, tapping a crumpled Ryujin with a cowboy boot. "Look at the state of me!"
Minho pops up out of nowhere to stab Changbin's neck at that point, manically laughing when Changbin rubs at the spot Minho's fake weapon had attempted to impale him. You shake your head at their antics, smiling when a pair of toned arms wrap around your torso.
"You look sexy as fuck," Hyunjin says lowly into your ear, placing a kiss against your cheek as he spins you in his arms.
"Watch the makeup!" You laugh, shaking your head and giving him a once over. If he thought you looked hot, he was something else entirely. You decided to give him a proper kiss, placing your lips against his momentarily.
"Ew," you hear Jeongin say from Chan's confinements after being forced back onto two feet firmly on the ground. "Get a room!"
You roll your eyes at the younger boy, grabbing Hyunjin's hand and pulling him towards the kitchen. You hear the music start playing and can only assume Jisung has managed to connect to the speaker.
"I'm serious," Hyunjin says into your ear from behind you, placing his hands on your hips and spinning you around to face him. You hear a chorus of 'ooh's from your friends; Ryujin, Felix, Yuna, and Chan in the kitchen. You flip them off without a second thought.
"Yeah yeah, I'm hot, move on," you say cheekily, giving him a grin. Hyunjin just shakes his head at you, pulling out ingredients to create your favourite cocktail. "Mojito?"
"Of course," he replies, expertly concocting the drink you love so much. "I bought the ingredients yesterday just for you."
"Don't act like it's not your favourite too," you point out, to which he puts up his hands in defeat. You watch as Ryujin busts into the kitchen with her camera, giggling like a maniac.
"Pose for a picture! I'm gonna post all our costumes as a competition and see who gets the most likes," she explains, ushering you to Hyunjin's side and making you both turn around to face her. You roll your eyes with a smile, leaning into the tall man beside you and making a peace sign.
Just before Ryujin snaps the image, Hyunjin presses his lips to your cheek, making you grin. The flash goes off, and Ryujin audibly squeals when she sees the photo she's taken.
"You guys are ridiculously cute, look," she says, turning the camera to show you both the image. Hyunjin wraps an arm round you, giving the photo a thumbs up.
"You're so talented, Jinni," he says in approval, which you nod at. "If we don't win I'll be pissed."
"Mojitos!" Yuna interrupts then, bounding up to you and Hyunjin and giving him a pout. "One for me?"
Hyunjin shakes his head smiling, bringing out a third glass. "Whatever you wish."
Yuna sends you a grin before pointing at Ryujin, the latter attempting to take a picture of Jeongin whilst he springs around the room. You can't help but laugh at your friends antics, thankful your mind has been well and truly taken away from all the drama this semester had caused you.
"Stay still!" Ryujin shouts, furiously moving her camera to track Jeongin's position. Seungmin walks into the kitchen then, so Ryujin turns her attention onto him instead, making him pose.
"Aren't you the cutest," Yuna compliments when Seungmin's finished, pinching his cheeks. He swats at her, rolling his eyes. Hyunjin hands both you and Yuna your cocktails, which you thank him for with a peck.
"Yeah, well I got it better than some of the other guys. Chan's saying his frat bros have a Halloween themed party going on and want us to join, but Changbin's refusing to be seen by anyone else in his costume," he explains, nodding to Changbin who's sulking in the kitchen corner as Ryujin takes his picture, too.
"A frat party?" You question, sending Seungmin a raised eyebrow. "Do we not recall how the last one went down?"
You point at the subtle scar on your cheek for good measure, which Yuna pouts at, giving it a kiss.
"You're beautiful," she says with a grin, which you stick your tongue out at. "But yeah, as much as I'd love to see Chan's gorgeous frat friends again, I dunno if it's a good idea."
"You know I'd usually agree, but Chan says there's not a lot of people there, since they had their actual big Halloween party on Saturday. This is just a small costume party for the frat guys and their close friends," Seungmin informs you, shrugging his shoulders.
Hyunjin turns to you with a shrug. "I'd be down. I wouldn't be surprised if Alex has already messaged me about it," he says, referring to one of his friends that's also a member of the frat. You'd been informed by Hyunjin later on that he was the one that had driven you to the hospital that one time. "But if you're not up for it, we don't need to go."
He turns to you, and you sigh. "Oh, what the fuck, why not. It would be nice for you and Chan to see your friends again. Plus, we could all use a good night. As long as that guy Changbin fought isn't there."
"Nah, Chan said he was some guy from a rival frat," Yuna says with a grimace, shivering. "Was winding him up all night apparently. Anyway, that's a no go topic for tonight. This is post exam, audition and drama stress fun."
She gives you a wink as Hyunjin cocks his head at the blonde. "How did your audition go, anyway?"
Yuna had already informed you how her audition for the end of year showcase the drama department put on had gone, after it had happened. The play that had been chosen was Legally Blonde, so obviously Yuna was gunning for the lead.
"Excellently, of course," she replied with a flick of her hair. "I think the recent drama gave me a good edge to my performance."
Hyunjin laughs at her, but Seungmin says nothing, just grabbing his phone where it was placed on the counter. "Let's tell the others we're gonna go, yeah?"
Nodding in reply, you walk through to the living area of the boys dorm. Jeongin's finally pulled his mask down, bleach blonde hair fluffy atop his head. He was desperate to get it dyed back, his roots growing out quickly. Hyunjin was much the same, though you'd admitted to him you liked the blonde locks, and forced him to keep it just a little longer.
"Ryujin, I love you, but I'm changing before we go," Felix says, shouting through to her whilst running into his room. Changbin groans at that, digging his heels into the carpet with a pout. You chuckle, taking your jacket from Hyunjin and thanking him.
"I want to change too! Chan, please can we go back to ours?" He pleads, giving the older man his best puppy eyes. Chan shakes his head absentmindedly.
"No can do. Felix!" He shouts, though Felix reappears instantly, sporting a hoodie and baggy jeans. "Oh. Excellent timing. Let's go, everyone!"
"Yes dad," Jisung groans, pulling the witch hat off of his head and chucking it on the ground before leaving the boys dorm. You watch Ryujin give him a glare, complaining she spent good money on that, before heading to the front of the pack with Chae, Chan, Minho and Felix.
"This outfit better pull me mad chicks tonight," Jeongin says, hanging back with you and Hyunjin as you follow the same route to your sister university. Hyunjin shakes his blonde head at him.
"You do realise you need actual rizz to pull chicks, right?" He berates the younger boy, ruffling his hair with a grin.
"Fuck off, Hyunjin," Jeongin whines, pulling away from his older friend. "You clearly have no rizz, since you two haven't even -"
"Okay!" You shout, pushing the younger boy away and watching him turn around with a devious smirk. "Ignore him, he thinks he's invincible in that Spider-Man costume."
Hyunjin chuckles, not saying much as you cross the road to the frats. As Seungmin had mentioned, the frat wasn't brimming with drunk college students like the last time you were here. It appeared much more civilised, Chan's friend greeting you at the door and ushering you in, with maybe twenty people drinking casually and chatting around the large entryway.
"Plenty of drinks in the kitchen," his friend grins, chucking an arm around Chan as you all start to mingle. "Yuna, Sungwoon's been talking about you nonstop, he's outside."
Yuna gives a happy squeal, giving you a wave before making a beeline outdoors. Jeongin pulls you towards the kitchen area with Felix, and before you get a second to think you're downing shots with them. Taking note of the fact Hyunjin's standing with Alex, you make three drinks and head in their direction, passing the two men their glasses.
"Thanks, angel," Hyunjin smiles, giving you a kiss on the cheek. He slings an arm around you comfortably, and you appreciate how easy it is to be with him. You didn't know what you expected, being official with Hyunjin, but it was honestly better than you could have imagined.
"Yeah, cheers," Alex thanks you, clinking your glasses. "I'm actually glad you guys are finally together. Hyunnie boy wouldn't shut up about you for months."
Hyunjin rolls his eyes, pushing his friend with a laugh. "Yep, shut up Alex."
Raising an eyebrow, you squint your eyes at Hyunjin. "Months, eh?"
"Don't let it get to your head," he smirks, giving Alex the evils.
The next couple hours are spent chatting to more of Alex's friends, which had become Hyunjin'a friends by association, sprawled out on the comfortable sofas in the living area. The girls dip in and out, coming to chat periodically before getting swept away again.
After a while, you feel yourself start to yawn, the stress of exams evidently taking their toll. Hyunjin saunters up to you, making Jeongin gag from his spot beside you on the sofa, instantly fleeing the scene.
"Hey babe," he grins, pecking your cheek. Smiling back, you pull your knees to your chest, leaning into him. "Tired?"
"Mhm," you sigh back. "Those all nighters have fucked me up big."
He laughs, patting your head fondly. "Wanna come back to the dorm with me? I'm shattered too, but these freaks don't seem like they're leaving any time soon."
He nods his head towards your friends, scattered around the frat. You can't help but smile at them, most of them still in their costumes, chatting and drinking. It was your favourite thing to see, then having fun. To Hyunjin, you nod sleepily.
"Sounds good to me. Let me say bye to the girls," you say, heaving yourself off the sofa and wandering off in Yuna's direction. She notices you straight away, pulling you in for a side hug - evidently blasted.
"Peeling off early with your boy toy?" She raises her eyebrows mischievously, placing your face in her hands. "Don't blame you. My guy's gone to sleep already, idiot."
"Where's Ryujin?" You say in between laughter, taking the odd alcoholic concoction out of Yuna's hands and pulling her into the kitchen.
"No clue to be honest," she says, downing the water you give her. "Saw her last maybe an hour ago?"
"She just messaged saying she's alright," Chae chirps, joining you both. "Like five minutes ago? Dunno where she actually is though."
"Aw, let her have her fun," Yuna swats her hand, tilting her head. "After everything with Changbin she deserves a bit of freedom."
"My thoughts exactly," you agree, winking at Chae who laughs. "Anyway, get home safe, message me when your back, and let me know how Lia is. See you guys in the morning?"
The girls hug you, bidding their farewells. You wave bye to Jeongin, Chan and Jisung, the only of the guys you can see, before meeting Hyunjin at the entrance and leaving. You both spend the short walk home chatting about the night, keeping both your spirits high.
"Did you see Felix like, at all?" Hyunjin asks while he uses his key card to unlock the door to his dorm. "I swear I saw him once and then he disappeared."
"Honestly I feel like everyone split off to mingle pretty early on," you reply lazily, kicking off your shoes and jacket. It was almost eerie how quiet Hyunjin's dorm was, usually bustling with all the boys. "It was nice to talk to your friends, though."
"Yeah, they seemed to like you a lot," he grins, turning and placing his hands on your hips. "Not surprised though, with a face like yours."
"Oh, that's all I am, huh?" You say slyly. "A pretty face?"
"And a beautiful dancer, a smartass, a funny little thing..." he berates you, which you hit him on the shoulder for. He only shakes his head. "Seriously though? How lucky am I to call you mine, yeah?"
"Im yours now, am I?" You raise an eyebrow, letting him pull you closer towards him.
He rolls his eyes dramatically, inching forward. "If you're willing to be stuck with me."
You grin, tilting your head. "Right back at you."
He ends your back at forth by kissing you, a hand placed on your cheek, simultaneously moving you backwards to his room. Giggling between kisses, you turn the handle to his door and watch him kick it shut behind him, deepening the kisses and moving you to sit on his bed.
You pull apart, watching his handsome face stare down at you with a smile. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
"Because you're stunning," he says instantly, not missing a beat. "And I thoroughly enjoy looking at you. You do need to take that face makeup off though, because it's completely smudged."
"So is yours!" You laugh, placing a thumb over his lips and smudging it even more. "Fuck, no makeup remover here."
"Come again?" Hyunjin says, holding up a bottle of makeup remover and cotton pads. You furrow your eyebrows in astonishment.
"You have makeup remover?" You ask shocked as he hands you it whilst removing his own makeup.
"I dunno," he says once he's finished. "I bought some stuff you might need incase you stay over. Dorm full of boys, not much feminine equipment here."
You laugh as you finish removing your own makeup, setting everything down on his bedside table.
"How considerate of you," you smile when he sits next to you on the bed. He rolls his eyes.
"It's more of an excuse so you stay more."
"Oh yeah?" You respond slyly before he starts kissing you again, a hand moving to your cheek. You stay like that for a while until you take the initiative, playing with the hem of his tshirt.
"What's this?" Hyunjin says with a smirk, breaking away from you momentarily to look at your hands.
"What?" You say with a giggle, shrugging shyly. "Is it so wrong of me to want to take your top off?"
"You first," he nods, which you hit him for with a laugh. "Seriously though, are you sure you're okay to take this further?"
You squint at him. "Do I look like I'm not sure?"
"Baby," he sighs, tilting his head. "I'm just making sure you want this. God help me, you must know how much I want you."
You feel a tingle down your spine at his words, but you play it cool, smiling up at Hyunjin.
"I want you right back," you reply, nodding to solidify your certainty. He laughs at you, shaking his head.
"And you're not drunk?" He says seriously.
"I stopped drinking hours ago. Stop stalling, dickhead," you say, pushing his shoulder gently.
"Okay, okay, I guess I'm just nervous," he says with a shaky laugh, and you tilt your head at him. "Come on. I know you've heard the rumours about me on campus hell, even from our friends. I don't want you to have expectations here because frankly I have very low confidence on how long I'm gonna last."
You chuckle at him, taking his face in your hands. "I don't care about your sex god rumours, Hyun."
This seems to give him some confidence, because with a final shake of his head, he's kissing you again, slowly pushing you down onto his bed. He kisses your neck, hard enough to leave marks which you'll kill him for in the morning but right now you just don't care.
"I have no idea when the guys will be back," he says breathlessly as he pulls away from your neck.
"Better make this quick then," you smirk, almost confused at how easy this feels. In the past, your sexual encounters had been rushed, messy one night stands or awkward fifth date endings. You'd never felt so many feelings towards someone you were intimate with before, and it made all the difference.
"Next time, I promise I will take my time with you," he says, reattaching himself on your chest, moving your top to the side to give him access.
"Next time?" You say breathlessly, which he rolls his eyes at, pulling you towards him to remove your tshirt and his own, and Jesus - this boy should take his top off more often. His toned stomach, defined biceps...the list goes on.
"Trust me," he whispers, unclasping your bra and throwing it on the floor. He looks up at you, puppy eyes that draw you in immediately. "There's gonna be a next time."
And you're entranced, watching him work his magic on your body, hands and tongue everywhere. He pulls down your skirt, and then your underwear, and you don't feel insecure for even a second when he attaches himself to your core, spreading open your legs. Your hands fly straight to his hair, tugging at the blonde strands without a coherent thought.
"Hyunjin," you groan, lifting his head up to face you. "I want you, now. Before anyone gets back."
He smirks, his classic smirk, wetness dripping from his lips. "Don't have to tell me twice."
After removing his jeans and boxers, he rolls on a condom, aligning himself, an arm propping himself up by your head. He leans in, kissing you gently.
"You're so beautiful," he whispers, using his other hand to move the stray hair from your face and rubbing your cheek with his thumb. "I can't wait until I can spend hours making you feel good."
This man. He made you feel so ridiculously turned on it should be a crime. He pushes into you slowly, not leaving your eyes as he does so. The stretch is manageable, but you wince nonetheless, his hand intertwining with yours immediately.
"You're okay," he says, a statement that makes you feel at ease instantly. "Tell me if it hurts."
"It's okay," you smile, pecking his lips quickly. "You can move."
It takes a minute of his slow movements for you to get used to his size, but once you do, the pleasure is unmatched. He finds a rhythm that works for the both of you, hitting the spot deep inside of you that has you whining his name and your eyes rolling back. He places a hand on the headboard of his bed, increasing his pace when he sees how much you enjoy it.
"You feel so fucking amazing," he groans, dipping down to kiss you as much as he can through your breathlessness. "Fucking hell, you have no idea how hard it is to hold back right now."
"Then don't," you say instantly, prioritising his pleasure over yours. You definitely had heard the stories on campus of Hyunjin - one in which he was the only guy who had made a girl finish in her life before, so you knew he'd make it up to you. Right now, all you wanted was for him to let go.
"Fuck, don't say that," he shakes his head, moving a hand to grip your waist as he pulls himself inside and out of you rapidly.
"Do it. Cum for me, Hyun," you all but whine, which seems to be his breaking point, he groans, thrusting into you hard a couple more times before slowing down and stilling inside of you.
"I hate you," he groans, face hidden in your shoulder. You laugh, catching your breath as your chest rises and falls. "I seriously hate you. I could have kept going."
And that's the moment the door to the boys dorm swings open and you hear the boys crashing in, completely smashed. Jeongin's distinct voice overpowers as he stumbles around the living room, complaining that daddy Chan removed him from the fun.
"Good thing you didn't," you smirk, a hand gently pulling through Hyunjin's blonde hair, which he laughs at, groaning as he untangles himself from you to dispose of the condom.
"Bro, you're smashed. Go to fucking bed," you hear Minho say to Jeongin, whilst Hyunjin pulls on his boxers and chucks you one of his large tshirts. You pull it on, laughing at the guys outside. There's a banging on Hyunjin's door then, which he rolls his eyes at.
"Hope you wore protection, sex lord!" Jeongin shouts through, Hyunjin replying with a, 'shut the fuck up.'
"Jeongin! Go to sleep!" Seungmin shouts from his room, Hyunjin flopping back into bed with you.
"I say we wait five before we go out to brush our teeth," Hyunjin chuckles, kissing you on the lips gently. "Hopefully by then Jeongin will have crashed."
"You want me to use your toothbrush?" You ask, an eyebrow raised.
"Hell no! I bought you your own," he fake gags. You smile at him sleepily, ruffling his hair.
"You're just the cutest," you coo. He swats at you in return, pulling you into his arms.
"Nah. All you."
"Gross!" Jeongin shouts. "Nobody wants to hear your declarations of love!"
You only shake your head at him, thankful for the man holding you. Everything may have gone to shit in the last two months, but at least one good thing had came out of it. And you weren't planning to get rid of him anytime soon.
@cursed-mars-bars @imasimplol @hyunverse @aestaeticous @dorisnumber1fan @amnmich @detectivedoodle @mara-mars @end0rchans @raresevng @nhyunn @lixie-phoria @beomgyusonlywife @seolarpower @cuddlethebear r @weird-bookworm @ceelestic @worcesheshestershiresauce @hyuneyeon @downbadreading @where-is-innie @its-hannjisung @weird0o0 @sxhxnax @moretinyideas eas @realrintaro @pinkcherryblossomangel el @tesywesy @beaann @cutesince2000 @lynlyndoll @furryenthusiastbread @nyasstars @eyearebee @lynlyndoll
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unseededtoast · 1 month
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Turtle Doves | Joel Miller
Part Five
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Chapter Directory
Series Summary: In which two broken souls connect so deeply, that if one should perish, the other would surely die of a broken heart. (slow burn, timeline changes. After TLOU1, before TLOU2, assumed knowledge of infected, uses elements from both show and game)
Series Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, death, and sexual content.
Also cross-posted on Wattpad and AO3. Link to my masterlist for everything else I’ve posted!
The man is wearing a dark green flannel, medium wash jeans, brown boots, and a broken watch. He's got a rifle leaning against the table beside him.
With the back of my hand I wipe sweat off my brow. Unfortunately, I was not placed on graffiti cleanup today. Instead, they're making me dig holes for new fence posts on the QZ border. FEDRA is trying to rebuild what the Fireflies blew up, and digging deep holes for hours on end only makes me more bitter towards the wannabe mercenary group. Manual labor paired with no sleep for the past two days is not working in my favor. I have to constantly fight to not pass out from overexertion. But, I'd be lying if I said I hadn't considered passing out to get out of work.
The hours pass by slowly, but surely. As soon as we get cleared to leave for the day I make a beeline for my apartment, wanting to at least get a shower before I start my activities for the night. I've got a list of things I need to accomplish, and I'm hoping to do so before curfew. However, with the luck I've been having lately, I'm not holding my breath about being back before curfew.
After I've showered and made myself presentable again, I leave my apartment and head towards area four. I'm counting on someone to have reported those poor girls in the alley today, there's just no way nobody found them. And I'm hoping my contact will have some good information for me. As an incentive for information, I brought along a few pills. Information like this is sure to come at a hefty price, and free narcotics usually does the trick.
I locate the familiar apartment and knock on the door. It's not unheard of for regular people to be in area four, but it is unusual. Thankfully, the soldier opens the door and lets me in quickly without asking questions. I stand in the doorway of the rickety apartment and nod to the man standing across from me.
"What are you doing here?" His voice is callous, but curious. We had just delivered to this guy last week and I know he isn't due for another round of pills until next week, so it is weird for me to be here right now. I clear my throat,
"I need information, and I'm hoping you can be of assistance." I start off. The man's eyes narrow,
"What kind of information?" His eyes briefly look me up and down, probably searching for obvious weapons. I move from the doorway to the man's living room, where my voice is less likely to be heard by bystanders.
"I know there have been bodies found. I need to know what FEDRA is doing to find the killer." My voice is stone cold and serious. On our drug runs, I try to stay friendly to the clients, so they keep quiet and keep coming back. But this is something else entirely. The man scratches the back of his neck and takes a few steps towards me.
"How do you know about that?" His voice is equally as cold. I look right into his eyes, trying to pierce his soul so he sees just how serious I am about this.
"I have my sources." I decide against confessing what I really know. He licks his lips and shakes his head,
"Noelle you know I can't tell you shit like this." He sounds frustrated, he has to know something. Otherwise he'd be asking for more elaboration.
"What if I gave you these?" I pull out the small bag of pills from my back pocket. The man's eyes grow wide as he sees them. His gaze flickers between me and the pills.
"What's the catch?" He asks and I shake my head innocently.
"No catch, just information." I say, hoping that the thought of free drugs is enticing enough to get what I need from him. He paces back and forth before he gives in.
"Fine. I'll tell you what I know." He says, eyeballing the pills. I release a breath I hadn't realized I was holding and motion for him to continue on.
"You'll get these after you fess up." I explain my terms more thoroughly to him. Thankfully, he starts talking without argument.
"Three bodies found, ages fourteen to seventeen. Two girls, one boy. All had the same marking on their forehead. All killed brutally. I heard from another guard today that they had concluded the girls had been sexually assaulted before they were killed. Same with the boy." He explains, and my blood boils at his words. It's bad enough these children were ruthlessly killed. But to have been defiled before? It's sickening and awakens a rage in me I've never felt before.
"List of suspects?" My voice is uncharacteristically dark and I take a few steps towards the soldier. He shakes his head,
"I don't have names, nobody has a name. But, I did hear something about a man, or some small group, staying out near the wharf in area five. I guess we've been having perimeter issues around there. It's no surprise, there are a few empty warehouses out there and nobody ever patrols them. My best guess, start there if you want to find who did this. As far as I know, all FEDRA is planning to do is to sweep the warehouses tomorrow and then call it if they don't find anything. They don't want people knowing about this, they're hoping it just stops. They're worried a riot will break out. We don't have the numbers to go investigating this, we still have our orders. My guess is that we're just going to blame the first man who looks at someone the wrong way." He spills more information. My fists clench involuntarily as he says FEDRA is basically trying to sweep this under the rug to stop a potential riot. It seems that good old-fashioned vigilante action is going to be needed after all. Appreciative of his cooperation, I toss the pills over to him.
"Thank you. Those are on the house." I say as I make my way out of his apartment, on a newfound mission.
I feel as if I'm practically flying to area five, near the wharf. I'm familiar with the empty warehouses, there are plenty of transactions I make there. But, I've never noticed any sign of someone living there before. Usually, even just one straggler leaves some sort of evidence. Unless they're dumping their evidence into the water.
I begin searching the warehouses one by one, knowing that this might take a good while to be thorough. I intend to search each warehouse with a fine tooth comb. Those children deserve someone to fight for their justice. And if FEDRA isn't going to get these families justice, then I sure as hell will. I know I would want someone to do the same if it were my child.
The sudden thought of Lucas makes my heart constrict with sadness, and I find myself clutching the necklace that never leaves my neck; a constant reminder of my family who are only with me now in spirit.
The first warehouse proves to be empty, every surface is covered with a thick layer of dust and nothing has been recently disturbed, save for rat droppings here and there. The second warehouse is also empty, but I did find some spent shell casings. Probably remnants of some shootout, but I don't know if the killers had anything to do with it, they seem to be keen on using blades.
With hope, I step into the third, and final, warehouse that sits on the wharf. The creaky old building looks like it could fall over at any second and so I'm careful of where my steps land. I take my flashlight out to look at every minute detail, looking for anything that suggests someone is staying here. I take a deep breath and stand up straight as the faint scent of a fire tinges my nose.
Carefully, I make my way up the warehouse stairs to where a small landing overlooks the rest of the building. To my surprise, there's the remains of a poorly constructed fire. It looks like it's been put out for a while, but was lit recently, as evidenced by the warmth of the wood. The floor surrounding the fire suggests that there were at least two people here, there are two different shoe tracks imprinted in the dusty floor.
I walk over to what looks like a makeshift mattress, made out of broken down cardboard boxes. Crouching down, I examine some scattered papers. There's a hand-drawn map of the QZ and there are circles drawn around areas with accompanying notes. I read the notes scribbled on the edges of the paper and realize I'm looking at the killer's plan. I feel like I could throw up as I read what it written on the paper.
They had singled out their victims, made note of their physical appearances. The notes imply that the killer wanted nothing more than to defile the victims in any way possible. It's almost like the killer, or killers, were playing a game. After I've read everything, I fold the map and tuck it in my back pocket, looking for any other evidence they might have left.
Sticking out of the cardboard boxes is another piece of paper. I turn the paper around in my hand and read what's written on it. It's a checklist, or more of a goal list, and it's clear as day to me now that these killings were a game, and that there are definitely two people in on this. The listed goals include finding suitable victims, seeing who could stab their victim more, who could kill their victim the quickest without a headshot, and who could get their victim to give up the most information.
On the left and right hand side of the paper there are numbers listed, along with words. The numbers correlate to the listed goals, and the words are all about what they learned from their victims. The killers got information about their victims' personal lives, it seems they weren't after much more than that, which I find to be a little odd. Usually infiltrators want to know where the armory is, where the food is kept. But it seems these people may have a steady flow of food and weapons if their focus was on personal information; making it all seem more like a sport. Like they chose this QZ as their hunting ground. I fold this paper and put it in my pocket as well, and search for anything else. However, that seems to be it.
The lack of personal belongings, weapons, food, paired with the lack of additional fire wood tells me that these people left and don't plan on returning here. Perhaps they knew they were going to be tracked down and so they left before anyone could find them. Maybe they were satisfied with the carnage and fear they created, so they just left before they could get caught. If my experience in this world has taught me anything though, it's that people as vile as this will never stop hurting others. It's possible they may even return here, maybe with more people. Maybe this was some sort of test run, to see what they could get away with. It's hard to know for sure.
I fall back so that I'm sitting flat on the floor, and tears make their way down my face. These predators killed those children for sport and just left without any sort of repercussion.Tears of sadness and frustration fall for the children who lost their lives, for the families who lost their dear loved ones. After a few minutes of anguish, my sorrow turns to anger, and I stand to my feet, wiping my face and making my way back to area one.
Each time my foot hits the pavement, the anger intensifies. These people will not get away with what they've done here, they will face consequences. I will hunt them down until I find them, even if that means I must go to the ends of the Earth. In this world, there is no place for evil offenders such as them, it's bad enough the infected threaten our lives everyday. Life is valuable, and those who don't treat it as such must be taken out of the equation for the greater good and the order of civility.
With one last sniffle, I knock on James' apartment door. He doesn't answer after a few minutes, so I knock again, louder this time. I hear a chair scrape against the wooden floor, and heavy footsteps come my way.
"What?" James' gruff voice demands before he even sees its me. His hard exterior immediately softens as he sees me standing there. I let myself in and am surprised to see an unfamiliar man sitting at the table.
The man is wearing a dark green flannel, medium wash jeans, brown boots, and a broken watch. He's got a rifle leaning against the table beside him, which should intimidate me, but in my current state, it doesn't phase me.
The man stares back at me like he's angry I'm here, like I interrupted something. But, I can't seem to find it in myself to care what I interrupted in this moment. My mind is on one track and one track only. James closes the door and stands between me and the unfamiliar man. He clears his throat and for the first time, I think James is uncomfortable. I tear my gaze from the stranger and look to James.
"I need to talk to you." My voice cracks as I speak. James nods and glances back to the other man.
"Can it wait?" He asks and I bite the insides of my cheeks to keep my anger at bay. I cross my arms, not backing down.
"It can't actually." I keep my words vague because this other man doesn't need to know anything about what I'm doing. James lets out a huff of air and runs a hand through his hair. The other man shifts in his seat. The two men exchange a glance, and I can tell it's loaded with some sort of silent communication. James nods his head, as if he's coming to some sort of conclusion.
"What is it then?" James asks, taking me aback. He knows what's going on, and I'm surprised he even suggested that I talk in front of whoever this man is. How do I know this man isn't going to go talking about everything I say here? I glance quickly at the man, who's now leaning forward on the table.
"Really? You know what I'm here about." My voice is tinged with anger and I set my jaw tightly. James takes a seat across from the other man and gives me a reassuring nod.
"It's okay Noelle, he's a friend. And he's leaving the QZ tonight, he won't talk." James promises me. I shift my weight from one foot to the other, struggling with what I should do. But, I don't see any other option but to tell James what my plan is. With an exasperated sigh, I uncross my arms and start talking.
"Fine. I went back out after curfew and found two girls, both killed like the boy was. I let someone else report them, I couldn't be the one to do it. And so later I went to area four and talked to one of our clients to see what's being done about this. He gave me more information about the kids, led me to the wharf in area five. I searched them all and this is what I found." I take the papers out of my pocket and spread them out on the small kitchen table, giving extra space to the unknown man. The two lean in to see what I've presented. I give them time to read the papers, and I see James' face grow pale. The other man's face seems to be set in anger.
"It was more than one." James states as he finishes reading the papers. I nod my head in confirmation.
"I think it was two. There were two sets of prints on the floor. But I think they left the QZ. The firewood was going cold, and there were no possessions left behind." I take the papers back and put them in my pocket. James scrunches his eyebrows together.
"So if they're gone, what's the issue?" His question shocks me.
"What's the issue? Three kids are dead because of them. One of them died in my fucking arms. They're just going to keep doing this. Maybe not here, but to others. I came here to tell you I'm leaving. I'm going to hunt them down." I stare right into James' eyes as I tell him I plan on leaving. Immediately, he shakes his head.
"No, Noelle, you can't leave." He practically begs. I shrug my shoulders,
"Why not James? I do the same damn thing every day here. I do my duties and then I run pills. Over and over again. These children deserve justice, someone has to fight for them. Why not me?" I tell him, feeling only slightly awkward that a stranger is present for this conversation.
"Who's going to keep things going? Theresa won't." He says, only caring about the pill smuggling operation we have going here. I shake my head, he just doesn't get it.
"There are plenty of others who can run pills just as good as me. Get one of them to do it, James. Hell, I'll even give you a list of who gets what and when." I say, more than willing to leave behind the schedule I've got going with our clients. James throws his hands up in frustration.
"So after all these years you're going to leave? Just like that?" He incredulously asks. I'm almost at a loss for words, he's acting like he's never going to see me again.
"I won't be gone forever. Once I kill these bastards I'll be back and it'll be like I never left." I tell him the truth. I do fully intend on coming back here. This shouldn't take me but a few days. James runs a hand through his hair and then focuses his attention on the man across the table from him.
"Man, do me a solid. Go with her." I'm almost offended that James thinks I need a security detail to go with me. Before the man can reply, I interrupt.
"No James, I can handle myself. Have some damn faith." I protest, but James keeps his eyes trained on the other man. Feeling patronized, I turn on my heel and leave James' apartment before either of them can say another word, slamming the door behind me. Sure, it's a little juvenile, but so was James' blatant display of his lack of confidence in me.
I go to my apartment to gather things I'll need, being sure to bring all the ammunition I have, my good hunting knife, and other survival necessities. I was planning on leaving first thing in the morning, but I know James will just come over here and bother me, so I'll leave tonight before he gets the chance to.
It leaves a bad taste in my mouth, how things left off between James and I, but once I return I'm sure we'll be able to patch things up, we always do.
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zahri-melitor · 28 days
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The thing about comics canon is that sometimes the level of complexity is off the charts.
Take Barbara and Jim Gordon’s relationship.
Babs is Jim’s daughter. That’s a truth in all continuities.
But her birth parents?
Are they Jim Gordon and Thelma/Barbara Gordon (Silver Age, Who's Who: The Definitive Directory of the DC Universe #2), where her biological brother is Tony Gordon? (Pre-crisis can’t decide on what Barbara’s mother’s name is and how many times Jim’s been married)
Are they Roger Gordon and Thelma Gordon (post-Crisis, Secret Origins v2 #20), where Jim and Barbara Eileen adopted Babs after her parents died in a car crash and her cousin and adoptive brother is James Gordon Jnr?
Are they Jim Gordon and Thelma Gordon (post-Crisis, Gotham Knights #6), where Jim had an affair with his sister-in-law that may have resulted in the pregnancy that led to Barbara, and her half-brother is James Gordon Jnr?
Are they Jim Gordon and Barbara Eileen Gordon (new 52, Batgirl v4 #5) where her biological brother is James Gordon Jnr?
Because each of these graduations changes things. Tony is Babs’ older brother. James Jnr is her younger brother.
James Jnr’s psychopathy has an additional twist to it if Barbara joined the family as a pre-teen, where he’s already acting out and being creepy, as does Barbara Eileen leaving with James Jnr. She’s legitimately terrified for her life about her new sibling and nobody is listening.
Whereas if James Jnr is her biological brother and they grew up together, Barbara’s been watching him his entire life, and seen his slide and so spent her childhood questioning herself on how bad he’s become makes even more sense, because that’s her little brother. But also she found him torturing animals, she can never be sure if the action he just took was meant to hurt or to help, etc etc.
And each permutation of this story brings a different edge to Babs’ childhood and backstory. But simultaneously there’s a central truth – the person Barbara calls Dad is Jim Gordon, and that aspect of their relationship on page has never, ever changed.
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this is a fanart blog! I’m not affiliated with Moulinsart or anything official, and I don’t make any money from this blog. It’s entirely for laughs, even when the posts aren’t funny. I try and keep the content on this blog safe for work, there will be swearing and mild injuries every now and then. Let me know if you want anything tagged.
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Post-Canon Characters - Where Are They Now?
- Archibald Haddock
- Chang
- Tintin
- Martine Vandezande
- Zorrino
The ProfessorCalculusStanAccount Post-Canon Timeline (in chronological order):
- St Benezet’s Basement
Tintin and Chang go undercover in a Catholic boy’s college to investigate a series of student disappearances.
(X) (X) (X) (X) (X)
- The Golden Palm
Tintin goes undercover at a film festival disguised as Hollywood starlet Marlene Katz to fight off the mob.
(X) (X) 
- Call of the Songbird
On a backstage tour of the Museum of Art and History, Tintin steals an ancient Chinese whistle to return it to its place of origin after Chang laments how European museums are full of stolen artefacts.
(X) (X) (X) (X) (X) (X)
- The Beast of Loch Broom
After falling out with Tintin, Captain Haddock decides to take Chang under his wing to go monster hunting at a loch he used to visit on childhood holidays.
(X) (X) (X) (X) (X) (X) (X)
- The Gypsum Maw
Tintin is sent by his editor to interview a caver who is stuck in an unregulated cave.
(X) (X) (X) (X) (X) (X) (X)
- White Boy Goes Dancing
tintin finally goes to the club with chang
(X) (X) (X)
- The House of Glass
Calculus is the judge of an international flower show where the plant used to make Rajaijah madness juice is on display.
(X)
- Tintin Takes the Tube
During the London Blitz, Tintin, Chang and Haddock go to check on Chang’s uncle in Limehouse. Haddock uncovers a Nazi plot in some London Underground service tunnels.
(X)
- Unnamed Area 51 story
Chang and Tintin have a midlife crisis and decide to break into Area 51 after a bunch of alien sightings flood the tabloids, and get into trouble with the US government.
(X)
- The Goddamn Moustache Saga
Haddock really fucking hates Tintin’s new look. Bullying ensues
(X) (X)
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noosayog · 10 months
Text
wc: 700
warnings/content: non-con? (sfw)
part 7. directory here.
--
A while ago, you and Atsumu had made plans to celebrate the end of finals week by taking a trip to a nearby town for the weekend. With the events from last night looming above you, that obviously isn’t happening so you pack your things and sneak out to make the earliest train to your hometown to escape potential confrontation. 
There was a part of you that had hoped that Atsumu had camped outside your door the entire night to catch you and desperately apologize and beg you to stay. Shame burned at your cheeks when you scanned the entire hallway and found it empty and clear as it is any normal day. 
With that, you speed off to the station before you can embarrass yourself any further. 
The break at home is welcome. Not to say that you’re not still utterly heart-broken, but the reprieve from Atsumu is much needed, however short. You steel yourself for the inevitable encounter as you return to your apartment a week later, making sure to wipe any delusions of Atsumu waiting for you from your mind. Anticlimactically, you survive the short trek from your building entrance to your door in peace.
It’s much later, when you’re leaving for your first class of the semester that it finally happens. By now, you’ve had plenty of time to run all the possible scenarios and plan your respective responses. Predictably, he marches straight up to you when your eyes meet. You immediately move to avoid him but you must be equally predictable to him because he grabs hold of your wrist before you can put any more distance between you two. 
“Where have you been,” he breathes. 
Yep, you had thought through this scenario. This is manageable. 
“Away from you,” you return evenly, trying to twist out of his grip. 
He sucks in a breath at that, like you had just punched him in the gut. Not a bad idea.
“Baby-”
Pet names were scenario C of your imagination. Nothing you can’t handle. 
“Don’t call me that,” you say, still trying to writhe away. 
He tightens his hold and pulls you that much closer. This makes you stiffen up. You had thought of the physical contact route, but had no countermoves for his brute strength. 
“Let go,” you seethe. 
“Not until you let me apologize.” 
“You can apologize all you want. I won’t accept anything, and nothing is going to change,” you recite your practiced lines. 
Atsumu seems to be figuring out what is and isn’t working, and words aren’t, so he focuses his efforts on keeping his hands on you. 
“What can I do, then?” 
“Nothing,” you answer. “We were nothing anyway, so you don’t have to act like you owe me anything.” 
You know you’re being cruel. But you just want to hurt him, make him feel what you felt. 
It works because he clenches his teeth, jaw tightening. 
“You know that’s not true.” 
“Who cares if it isn’t? You clearly didn’t.” 
He groans in frustration. “Why can’t you just- and why are you so-” 
He’s talking in a frenzy, a mix of unfinished thoughts and voice raising in volume. 
You’ve practiced a line that would end all this uncertainty. You’re late to class, you rationalize. This has to end so you can move on, you convince yourself. 
Deep breath in. 
“Miya,” you cut him off authoritatively. “There’s one thing you can do.” 
His eyes widen; he thinks you’re throwing him a bone. 
“Fuck off and stay away from me. I don’t want anything to do with you and nothing would make me happier than if I never saw you again.” 
Shaky deep breath out. It’s fine, you’re fine, it doesn’t hurt. You’re imagining it. Your vision is blurring a little but you keep repeating it. It’s fine. You’re fine. It doesn’t hurt. 
His grip on you releases, his hand dropping down at his side limply. It’s all going perfectly according to the scenarios you had run in your head. The tears in your eyes were not planned, but you’re fine. It’s fine. It doesn’t hurt. 
The damage is done and you think you’re free to go, so you turn to make your way to class and leave him behind.
That’s when you’re yanked backwards, one arm winding all the way around your waist and another palm sliding under your chin. And suddenly, his lips are on yours.
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rottenpumpkin13 · 3 months
Note
I think the moment Seph discovered pasta salad was a thing and he tried it, it would change the directory of his life
Cloud throws open the door frantically, running into the house. His mother looks up from the pot she's stirring, ready to reprimand her son for not taking his muddy boots off, but stopping when she notices the expression of panic on Cloud's face.
"Ma!" Cloud pants. "Sephiroth locked himself in the Shinra mansion's library! We think he's going insane!"
Claudia puts her wooden spoon down and reaches for her recipe book. "Say no more."
(Later)
Sephiroth is shoveling his ninth helping of pasta salad into his mouth at rapid speed. Claudia stands behind him, tying his hair up and out of his face.
Yellowed texts and old books are strewn haphazardly across the table, discarded in favor of the ginormous pasta salad bowl in the middle.
"—and now how am I supposed to go on with the knowledge that I'm barely a human being?" Sephiroth chokes through mouthfuls of pasta. "That I've been fed nothing but lies my entire life?"
Claudia hums. "Sweetie, maybe if you feed yourself good things from now on, you can revert the pain in your heart."
Sephiroth continues chewing, pensively. "I don't believe that food can fix any of this."
Claudia finishes tying his hair. "Would you like to try some cheesecake next?"
Sephiroth stops chewing. His pupils expand, he sits up straight and nods eagerly.
Zack and Cloud stand in the library's doorway watching all of this.
"I can't believe we didn't think of this earlier," Zack says, smiling.
Cloud frowns, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I can't believe you were stupid enough to tell her that he hasn't eaten in months."
"So?" Zack frowns. "What's the problem with that?"
Cloud frowns. "She's going to put him in a food coma."
"Nice!"
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generationlossupdates · 10 months
Text
GenLoss Episode 3: The Choice
Yall know the drill by now ^_^ I've bolded the most important bits for those who want to skim, and I'm putting it all under the cut to avoid dash clutter. If I'm missing anything important/messed up a specific detail PLEASE let me know so I can fix it, thanks!
The screen turns on, multiple error signs flashing before a drone camera turns on, showing different areas of the Showfall Media Headquarters. It switches to Ranboo, where he rips the dynamite attached to his neck. He walks up to the camera and asks the audience whats happening. As the can’t see chat, he gets no answer and suddenly we can hear H. They explain to Ranboo that they now have control of some of the facility, but still need to shut it down. They need Ranboo to get to the server room in order to take complete control.
Ranboo is panicked and attempts to take the mask off, when H tells him he can't yet, or else the entire operation will go up in flames. They also use the mask to communicate Ranboo. He begins to travel, needing to hide from Showfall agents with Squiggle masks. Ranboo peaks at different areas he'd been in, realizing that what happened was actually real. H confirms as such. He spots an exit and attempts to leave, wanting to call the police but H tells him he can't and to keep going. Ranboo doesn’t want to but H suddenly changes his story, saying the others are in fact still alive, and Ranboo (reluctantly) obliges. He goes down the escalator and when he nears a glowing blue mall room, a metal machine with a TV head runs to glass and starts to slam on it. Ranboo panics and H says its just security.
He keeps moving and makes it to the server room. It turns out he needs a keycard in order to get in. Ranboo keeps going, finding an office full of people with Squiggle masks. He seems apprehensive to enter but H says they're 'mostly harmless' as long as he doesn't do anything too entirely out of the ordinary. He has to get a keycard, a USB drive, and a code. He gets the keycard with ease but struggles to find the USB. After a few minutes of searching he finds the USB, and now has to find the code. After a bit more searching he finds 4 different codes and leaves the office.
Ranboo returns to the server room and enters with the items he collected. H says to be careful and to plug in the USB. They need to put in a code to the computer, though it’s unclear which code is correct. H gives chat the choice to pick which code to use. Ranboo is instantly unhappy with this, and instead of going with chat's pick, he chooses a different code and unfortunately it’s not the right one. The server shuts down and security gets upped, forcing H to leave. The facility blares and everything flashes red. Ranboo runs away, trying to avoid the Showfall puppets. 
Suddenly he hears voices coming from the former food court. He finds random streamers, though they cant hear him. He spots Charlie (WHO IS ALSO LIVE ON HIS OWN STREAM ON HIS OWN CHANNEL) and runs up to him. He pulls his headphones off and Charlie breaks out of the illusion, seeming incredibly confused. Ranboo screams at Charlie and tells him that they have to GO. They look for a directory, and after finding one Charlie looks behind the stand and finds a dead Showfall agent. They look over and Ranboo spots the 'security' (the metal TV head machine). They panic and run, starting to get chased by Showfall agents. They hide in a messed up props area and Ranboo picks up a knife while Charlie begs for an explanation. Ranboo says that he doesn’t have one and they go through the exit door in the room, winding back up where Charlie has been streaming. 
They leave running towards an exit before Showfall agents start chasing them. They wind up running through the rooms of the episode 2, slowing down for a moment before more agents come pouring in. They run down a hallway and turn into a small room where they find H.
H has been stabbed and tells them both that he won't make it. They explain Ranboo needs to finish the job by hitting the kill button and hands them a map. Ranboo stares at H’s body before turning and storming off, entirely in his own mind. Charlie rambles behind him, though his words can’t be made out. Ranboo walks right up to a Showfall agent and stabs them directly in the stomach before continuing the search.
Ranbooo and Charlie find their way back to the set of the cabin from the first episode, and Security jumps out, attacking Charlie. Before he dies he screams out for Ranboo to hit the kill button. Showfall agents begin to pour in as Ranboo runs for the button. He hits the button and everything goes dark, shutting off for good. Ranboo walks through the rows of deactivated agents, heading towards the genuine exit door. He opens it, and right before he goes through he does a Truman Show style bow, revealing H behind him. His mask, for the first time in this episode, turns back to a glowing red and H drags him through the door.
Everything fades to black and when we come back, Ranboo is chained up (Jesus on the Cross style), with his head being in a box, in front of lots of TVs. His mask is slightly broken as well and we hear H. H congratulates Ranboo, saying he completed the experiments. H explains that they never died and that the founder gave them a purpose to create these experiments to find people ‘worthy’ of joining the cast and living (and performing in the future shows) forever. Ranboo begs to be let go as his mask flashes on and off. H goes on to say that Ranboo’s actions we’re entirely his own, and that Ranboo can join the cast. They say that we (the audience) can even decide Ranboo’s fate. The chat gets to vote whether to let him live or die. In the last 30 or so seconds, Ranboo begins to beg and plead to be killed.
The vote ends and H flickers onto the screen, announcing that the chat chose death. The box around Ranboo’s head clamps shut, killing him, and the credits roll. After they end, the screen slowly pans out to show a tv, and a gloved hand pulling out a tape from the TV, labeled ‘TSE’ (The Social Experiments). The hand places the tape back on a shelf, where 7 other blank tapes sit, and the stream ends.
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homoeroticbetrayal · 1 year
Text
Iconic Homoerotic Betrayal: Round 2
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Round 2 Directory
Context:
Ides of March
Summary by Mean Girls (from an Anonymous Contributor)
Why should Caesar get to stomp around like a giant while the rest of us try not to get smushed under his big feet? What’s so great about Caesar? Hm? Brutus is just as cute as Caesar. Brutus is just as smart as Caesar.
People totally like Brutus just as much as they like Caesar. And when did it become okay for one person to be the boss of everybody, huh? Because that’s not what Rome is about. We should totally just stab Caesar!
Joshua/Neku
Summary by @purplelea
What if I was a jerk who decided to reject everyone because I was scared of getting attached and getting hurt, and what if I ended up in a death game where I had to learn how to put my trust in others in order to survive
What if I started to change, I started to trust others, to value their inner worlds, and then you came along as one of the people I had to learn to trust
What if you understood me better than anyone else, what if I recognised myself in you, and what if I HATED you for that, because you were everything I were, but that weren't not who I wanted to be anymore
What if you made it so hard to trust you because you were so grating and annoying and didn't deny when I accused you of killing me
What if you gave your life for me right after I learned that you weren't my murderer, what if I had spent an entire week blaming you for my death and what if you died for me before I could even apologise for that
What if I grieved you for a week while trying to fight for my life and fighting to keep trusting others despite all the hurt it kept bringing me
What if I fought my way to the end, victory and salvation so close, and what if suddenly I saw you again, giggling and telling me you were the one behind the whole thing since the very beginning
What if you told me that you were the one who killed me. That you were the one who created this death game. That you were the reason all of this ever happened. That I was nothing but a plaything in your grand scheme, that I've been your pawn since the very beginning, and all the fights I fought in order to come back to life were in fact helping you to achieve your goal of destroying my city and everyone I cared about
What if, still smiling, you gave me one last chance to save everything. A duel. A countdown. 10 seconds, one pull of the trigger, and you would be dead, my death would be avenged, my city and my friends saved
What if three weeks before that was exactly what had been asked of me, to kill someone else to save myself, and what if back then someone had to stop me from doing it
What if, pushed by how angry and hurt I was because of your betrayal, of your lies, of how you manipulated me and everyone around you, I found the strength to aim the gun at you, ready to shoot, crying but determined
But what if this time, because of everything I've been through, everything YOU put me through, I couldn't do it. Because you betrayed me, you hurt me, you did everything do I would want to pull that trigger, but everything you did also lead me to change, to start to trust others, and you're included in those others. You made me see that others' lives are worth the fight, are deep and meaningful, are something precious that shouldn't be discarded because I can't understand them
What if as you counted down to zero, I lowered my gun, and when your countdown met its end, you shot me once again, a bullet piercing my heart just like your betrayal did a few moments before.
What if after living all of this, I woke up in the middle of the city where I had been waking up at every start of every week of the death game you put me in, but this time alive and well, and I had to come to terms on how I felt towards you and the whole ordeal
What if I did come to terms, and put words on it. An entire monologue I gave to you, not even knowing if you were listening, but trusting that you would.
What if my name was Neku Sakuraba, and yours was Yoshiya Kiryu, but I could call you Joshua, seeing as I was your dear, dear Partner.
"I can't forgive you, but I trust you."
For other JoshNeku essays, see spreadsheet
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xinyuehui · 2 months
Note
Hello there! do you still have an older version of evolwallpaper? I was late to the party and I can't install it properly anymore T_T
Hi anon, unfortunately I no longer have the old .exe 😩 I checked weibo, other users in China are having problems with it as well, my conclusion to this is that it's a broken app full of bugs, probably got nothing to do with regions (ノへ ̄、)
Babe because of your ask, I spent good 5 hours tonight trying to debug it, because I insist we all get the dynamic wallpapers!!!
Original guide // Deepspace PC guide
By the end of this tutorial, we should have a video like this applied to our computer wallpaper:
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There's Nikki, MLQC, Deepspace and The Perceiver wallpapers.
New guide:
https://paperwall.papegames.com/
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Same step as before, download this but don't install yet!
The following was actually hidden in their Q&A, you'll also need this for it to run, download the runtime version.
https://dotnet.microsoft.com/en-us/download/dotnet-framework/net48
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After you install the .NET Framework 4.8 go ahead and try to install the PAPERWALL .exe
→ If it works, great! We solved the problem!! 🎉 (You can skip to the section on the bottom on how to use the app)
→ If you get this error message, ugh congratulations, this is where I tried about 67 solutions for hours just so you don't have to
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It's weird, because at this point, the thing have successfully installed on your local drive but it won't run.
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Let's go back a step, if you open the .exe again, take note of where it's at on your computer. For me you can see that it's in the C drive, I presume it'll be the same for you.
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Find the folder, open it
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Open the app
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→ If it works, great! We solved the problem!! 🎉 (You can skip to the section on the bottom on how to use the app)
→ If you get the same error message, read on:
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If the images haven't loaded in the 1.0.1 version it will most likely going to crash when you try to do anything on it, so read on:
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Let go back to the C drive
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We are gonna move this somewhere else, if you have a hard drive, paste it to your hard drive, if you have another drive on your pc, you can move it to the other drive. BUT DO NOT MOVE IT TO YOUR DESKTOP!!!! Because we practice good computer hygiene 🙏
Once you've moved everything away, open it back up and try to install it again in your new file location
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→ If it works, great! We solved the problem!! 🎉 (You can skip to the section on the bottom on how to use the app)
→ If you still get the same error message, I will send my portfolio to Paper Games to be a software developer in their office and write a new app
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Once you get it running *fingers crossed* move the entire folder back to your C drive if you moved it to your hard drive, unless your hard drive is plugged in all the time.
If for whatever reason you get the "access to the path is denied" error message, try the right click and select the "Run as administrator" option.
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For easy access:
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Go onto your desktop, or wherever you want to access it from quickly and paste shortcut!! Remember it's the shortcut!!
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How to use the app
The UI has changed a little since the original one, but it's easy to navigate.
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Change the language to English, it should reboot the app
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From here it's self explanatory
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For good computer hygiene you might want to double check where the wallpapers are stored and change directory if needed.
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If you're like me and have 2 monitors, this is what it'll look like with the wallpapers applied and the game opened, looks like I need a 3rd monitor for Shen Xinghui ⭐
(Desktop icons should show up, I just don't have icons on the desktop)
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If you still have problems, check your PC specifications against the following that were recommended on the official site:
System: Windows10 or above
RAM: 1024MB or above
Processor: 1.66Hz Intel i5 or above
Graphics: HD Graphics 4000 or above
DirectX: 10
Secret third thing: you might be able to run it and have the lovely wallpapers but it suddenly goes glitchy or black screen... that's because of the faulty app, I've seen people mention it on weibo, it's not just you 😔
───── ⑅ ♡ ⑅ ─────
Feel free to drop me an ask with images if you still run into problems, hope this helps, until next time~ (✿◠‿◠)
Check out this tag for already answered questions #/wallpaper woes
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