#it's just that my life is really terrible! and i constantly feel tense and upset about it! lmfao

[damnation-if]

Hi, I just played the demo and I loved it! I was wondering if you could give us an estimate of when the next update is coming?👉👈 (Or link a relevant post, if you already talked about and I just didn't scroll down far enough to see it 😆)

Also, I wanted to check, can you be in a romantic relationship with more than one character, and not just a sexual one? Because I might be in love with every single character in this game 🤭

hi, thank you! i'm glad you're enjoying the game :) i've answered the question about romancing multiple characters a couple of times in a couple of different asks but the posts all kind of link back to each other so you should be able to find all the info by. following the various links in each ask i think, starting here XD

i'm going to put the answer to your other question under a cut because some of it is quite emotional for me

i did Sort Of talk about this at the time when it happened, by which i mean that rather than making a post, i talked about it in the tags of an unrelated post i was using to distract myself (i think it was character playlists and how i'm not sure if it's a good idea to do them or not if i recall), but earlier this year while i was already going through a really rough time, my laptop died and i lost a lot of work on the game.

i knew my laptop was old and that this was possibly approaching so i made regular backups and the good news is that because i write in a separate word document and keep backups of those also i didn't actually lose any Writing. however. my twine has a problem in that every second or third game file that i publish from the build is Haunted - it contains passages i removed weeks ago, or writing that i deleted long before publishing it, that kind of weird annoying shit. (other authors have seen my files do this lmfao) and i just have to hope that the backups i make either won't be needed or aren't haunted. anyway... because hope is futile, the last backup i made was indeed haunted, and utterly useless to me as a recovery file. because it's just twine, i still have all the writing, as i mentioned... but i would have to re-code the entire chapter and put it all back together again because of how much the file did not export, which is a complicated and daunting process.

so i made a rambling explanation of this in the tags of a post and decided to take maybe a couple of days off and cool down from this specific disaster before getting into it.

i wake up the next morning to find the IF community absolutely plastered all over with Helpful Informative PSA posts about how Silly it is not to make backups and how if you just make backups you'll never have problems again and you should know better than to not make backups.

now. i'm not a catastrophist. i know for a fact that nobody was making or spreading these posts out of cruelty or a desire to make me feel bad. i also know that it's not particularly realistic to expect people who don't even know me to hunt down the source of a piece of hearsay that's like "i heard from someone that someone said that an author lost a bunch of their files and is really upset about it" to find out what the situation is and whether or not it's what they imagine. i don't even think the vast majority of people knew who it was that was the author involved, or who i am either.

but to already be going through an extremely stressful time and then lose my laptop on top of that and then be obliquely referenced by people i thought of as my peers as kind of just a big silly bumbling goose who didn't know how to manage my files and a "don't be like this person" attitude really, really hurt me. i can't express just how deeply it hurt me. one particular author was openly laughing at me and saying it was my own fault for being too stupid to make backups using a certain twine peripheral program.

so. there was a period of time where i could have found the motivation to just restart the whole chapter myself and re-code it in a frenzy because i wanted to get right back into writing it because. like a lot of authors, i LOVE writing. that's why i do this even when it's difficult. but that potential recovery was sandblasted away by the reactions of people that i thought of as my colleagues in some sense (even though i understand that they didn't do it with bad intentions, in most cases). and i hope people can understand that it greatly lengthened the amount of time i needed to spend away from the game recovering emotionally, despite being a Very Small issue to most people. i'm literally upset again just typing out this answer lmfao

however one other small piece of good news is that my laptop seemingly just lost the ability to turn itself on (because of its age) so i Think the hard drive is intact. meaning that i think i can get someone to pull all the files off it and just have them back fine once i do. the other piece of bad news is that my life is a trainwreck! and i cannot afford that right now. which is why i sort of pivoted to writing the 2000 follower celebration sidegame as a way to enjoy myself while i hurtle through hell sdjgbdfhfdgh

shortly after this thing with the laptop the house i was living in was sold out from underneath me, even though it wasn't supposed to be, and i had to find somewhere to live with my 18 year old cat, but the city i lived in had zero places that would allow cats (they're totally fine with Dogs though of course) so i had to move to an entirely new city on my own while worrying about her health. and right now i spend every fortnight desperately trying to scrape together enough to survive the next fortnight. there were entire months where i had no access to internet! it's been pretty Bad!!

so i get that people really want updates, and i'm really flattered that people do and it makes me happy that people like the game so much. but i am currently expending so much time and energy trying not to die lmfao, and i need to save up the money to get my files back around that. i truly cannot tell you when the next update will be, but i promise you that it Haunts me, probably more than you can imagine XD the sidegame will Definitely come out before it though, if that's something you're looking forward to.

thank you again for your message, and i'm sorry that i don't have good news for you. but i am trying, constantly. every day.

#what does the chaos mirror see #eternal-flame #i hope it doesn't come across like i'm mad about this question because i'm not<3 #it's just that my life is really terrible! and i constantly feel tense and upset about it! lmfao #i was SO nervous when i published the game for the first time that the build i published would be a haunted one lmfao #literally combing through every single accessible passage with a magnifying glass to make sure it wasn't #would it have been better to get the haunting out of the way with publishing the game or keep it for this backup problem?? i don't know #wish it just wouldn't do it i guess. but then again i haven't noticed it as a problem since getting my new laptop #so hopefully i won't have to worry about it in future #hurgh... still not over this properly i guess lmao

[justimagineok]

2:30 series - The Trip - part 7

・pairing: idol jungkook x female reader

・genre: angst

・word count: 1.4k

・warnings: angry/frustrated JK

2:30 masterlist

"YN? What are you doing here?", was the first thing Jungkook said to you when he woke up, his back all sore from Jin's terrible couch. How a couch could be so expensive and so crap, was beyond his understanding.

"Good morning to you too", you murmured, looking at him. "Could ask you the same question. Why you're here and not home, Kook?"

Jungkook's jaw tensed like he was reminded of why he was there in the first place. "Didn't want to bother you. It wasn't worth it.", he answered shortly, like he was teasing you, but you didn't catch it yet.

Seokjin gulped, clearly sensing the tension in the air. "I'm gonna go.. to .. Anywhere else.. so you guys can talk. ", he pat Jungkook's back and gave you a comforting half smile before leaving.

"Jungkook ", you tried again, struggling to find out why he was acting like that. He didn't use to act like that, being so distant and cold. “I don’t understand what is happening. Why you're mad at me?”

Jungkook scratched his head before speaking again.

"You really don't know?!", he spat back.

"No. I really don't. ", you tried to contain the sadness in your voice, but it cracked anyway. You guys were in good terms when he traveled… Why he was like that now? It was something that you say to him? What?

"Please tell me, so we can work this out. "

Jungkook rolled his eyes, annoyed, and sat down by your side. He looked into your eyes, trying to scan you, but he knew you didn't know why he was mad. You always acted like that. Like you didn't want to bother, to disturb. Like it wasn't worth it if it was for you, but he was starting to get mad with this.

"I'm sick and tired of watching you go out of your way to protect people and fight for then, but when it comes to you and me, it is always hard. You get all worried about being a burden and all… I'm tired of hearing you say that is not worth it when is something for us.", Jungkook was avoiding your eyes right now. He didn't want to be that honest, but there was nothing he could do once he started. "I choose you, baby. I'm tired of you not choosing me back.”

"That... is not true, Kook.", you said way too weakly. Hearing Jungkook say those words was like a punch in your stomach. "This is not what is happening.. I thought I was doing what you wante-"

"C'mon, YN!", Jungkook yelled, making you jump. He got up the couch, placing his hands on his hips, trying to control his anger. "You did because you wanted to!"

"Stop yelling at me, Jungkook", you said quietly, and Jungkook finally looks at you again. He didn't mean to yell at you or to get angry. Jungkook stayed there shocked, seeing the tears falling from your eyes. You sniffed, trying not to show you were crying, but you couldn't.

"I'm going home.", you whispered, grabbing your purse.

"You always end up leaving!", Jungkook said loudly, slamming his fist into your leg repeatedly.

"What?", you turn around, the sadness in you giving space for the anger.

"You can never stay and figure it out, like you say you want to do. You always run when things get hard, YN. You act like a flight risk!", Jungkook wasn't letting anything go today.

"I'm a flight risk?!", you raised your voice for the first time.

"Yeah!", Jungkook raised his voice just like you did. You didn't want to discuss, even more, in Jin's house, but this was escalating quickly.

“Yeah?! Well, sometimes I worry that you only love me because it’s convenient for you!”

Jungkook's face twisted, and his jaw clenched, showing how upset he was with your accusation.

“Nothing about you is easy or convenient, YN. Certainly not to love you.”, he stated.

Your eyes widened.

"And what do you mean by that, Jungkook?"

"What I mean is that you constantly doubt my love for you and my commitment to this relationship! "

"I don't do that."

"Yes, you do! Sometimes I feel like you'll leave the same way you came into my life. I feel like I'll turn around, and you'll be gone."

"So it's all my fault? "

Jungkook sighed, visibly frustrated.

"I didn't say that. What I'm saying is that shouldn’t be so hard to love you."

And you felt like you've been punched right in the face.

"It-- it's that hard to love me?", you asked, feeling like the floor was swept away from your feet. Jungkook breathed deeply, choosing his next words.

"It takes me no effort to love you, baby, but it's a struggle to prove to you that I do, cause you act like you can't see it sometimes. That's what's tiring, YN. Sometimes it feels like I'm the only one seeing and believing in a future for us. Feels like I'm alone in that. It's like the interaction between us alternates between me saying 'I love you and..' and you're saying back 'I love you, but.'"

He made a pause, pinching his eyebrows.

"I don't even know if that makes sense, but that's how I feel, babe.",

You nodded, the words you wanted to use were all gone.

"It makes sense.", you swallowed the tears in your throat again. He was right.

You always worried that you were getting in Jungkook's way, weighing in down. You never thought he could notice how much you struggled to stay out of anything that could harm him, even depriving yourself of enjoying good things with him. You avoided going to Hybe's, afraid it would distract him or disrupt his practices. You only went whenever he insisted or when you really couldn't help your need to see him in the middle of the day. You settle down to watch his practices on Hybe's channel on YouTube.

Jungkook noticed you rarely came to see him at the building, so he understood that you just weren't interested or found it boring. He understood that watching a bunch of people doing the same dance repeatedly to perfection wasn't interesting at all. Even if one of them was your boyfriend and crazy about you. You avoided meeting the members, afraid they'd hate you, but instead, they loved you to the point Jungkook got jealous once. You always avoided. Avoided being there in the defining moments of his life as if you were going to stain them with your presence. And that hurt him. He tried to understand it was just your way, but you didn't seem happy with it. So why did you do it?

Jungkook loved to be there, even if it was for the silly moments of your life. When you got a new job, when you finished your college, when your cat died or when you dyed your hair, and it looked terrible, but he loved it too. Cause you looked cute even so. He couldn't understand why you keep acting like that.

"I understand what you're saying, Kook.", you looked at him. "I understand that you're tired. You're young. Free.", you gave him a half smile looking at his pierced eyebrows. He was beautiful and kind. How could a person like him end up with a person like you? "I let all of my problems weigh down on your chest. It's not fair. So you gotta go, leave."

Jungkooks' brows arched, not understanding what you meant.

“Not literally”, you smiled, but it didn't reach your eyes.

"Wh- what you're saying, YN?", Jungkook's voice was so shaky that he couldn't think straight.

"I'm telling you not to waste your 20's on me, Kook.", you stated.

"What? What do you mean wasting?", he was getting despaired.

"I'm going home, Kook. I need time.", you look at his eyes, and you wanted to comfort him, but you couldn't. Nothing he said was a lie, and you couldn't say it was. You didn't know what to do with himself.

"We're not breaking up, right?", his voice cracked, afraid of your answer. "Right?"

"No. I just need time. I see you soon, okay?"

Jungkook only nodded as he watched you leave Jin's house, wiping your cheeks with your palms and walk down the hallway. Only then he noticed his eyes were also filled with tears and falling way too fast.

"I just want you to let yourself be loved, baby.", he whispers.

#2:30 #bts fake texts #bts fic #bts fake chat #bts fake chats #bts scenarios #jin fake texts #seokjin x you #jungkook x yn #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x reader #jk x reader #jk x you #jk x y/n #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst

[spaloonbabooguuscooties]

Begging at your feet rn to see more of your elka stuff and ESPECIALLY your elka and franke stuff

THE BEST I CAN GIVE IS UHHHH a little bit of background on some things that have been cooking because im bored.

The basis of elkas character being a control freak who is so obsessed w upholding the status quo of her mind and staying normal and being ‘happy’ in her future despite everything she sees being a doomed ending. the vision of a married life with nils lutefisk, who never really seemed to care about her and who she doesnt even know she actually loves or not. because it doesnt feel like how it SHOULD feel and she wished he was something different but she doesnt know what

she doesnt allow herself to think maybe shes Never been happy with a man. that maybe she only feels the need to be because thats all shes ever known or seen herself having

also the added very important headcanon that elka gets so obsessed over this future that she forces herself to have visions of it constantly, over working her future sight to the point that by the time the canon game happens her vision has clouded over and shes completely blind and has to use clairvoyance to ‘see’. (based on her early concept model with white eyes. anyway)

her first year of summer camp kicks off her relationship with nils but also an unexpected friendship with Kitty, and they end up getting very close, and though its confusing its the best elkas ever felt- up until she’s graced with a vision of her and kitty getting into a terrible fight, and rather than putting herself through that she just pretends they were never friends in the first place. (because shes normal)

kitty is understandably confused and upset about this and doesnt know why elka is suddenly giving her the cold shoulder. they both leave camp completely fucked up over their toxic female friendship drama and the next year kitty is ‘seemingly’ over it, already rebounding to a New girl she met on the bus, franke.

of course, franke is a lot different than elka. kitty finds her a lot easier to get along with, more relaxed, they kind of compliment each other in a way. the budding friendship to serious crush to summercamp love story pipeline.

BUT.. franke cant really help but noticing how tense kitty and elka are around each other.

its a lot to get into but my friends and i kind of spitballed franke having like. psychic hyper empathy based powers. shes more of a feelings guy. she kinda goes with whatever kitty wants but she can be good when shes not around. theres like a whole thing i made up for it BUT anyway

she doesnt know whats wrong with them just that the vibes are fucking rancid and she wants to help kitty out by getting to the bottom of it. and so she starts talking to elka when she can , and elka pities her a bit because she sees franke as this completely gullible goofball under kittys spell, cursed to follow her around like a lost puppy. especially because kitty has only grown hostile to elka since theyve been back at camp, elka kind of knows kitty is/was using franke to make her jealous. much like , well, she was using JT to get to nils. so franke is kind of like a tennis ball getting kicked between the two of them.

because a lot of this stuff is roleplayed out there was a bit going about franke being illiterate (because shes dumb) that franke plays into in a self deprecating humor kind of way, but elka takes it completely seriously and takes soooooo much pity on her she decides to help franke learn to read by showing her her favorite book pride and prejudice. has franke hold the book while elka uses her eyes to read it for her. this made a lot of sense in the moment dont worry

franke goes along with this even tho she can. absolutely read. because, like, maybe if they talk enough she can squash her and kittys beef. this ... goes okay, but franke ends up really enjoying this little book reading thing they do together. she is unfortunately a little baby butch lesbian and elka is pretty and nicer than she initially thought, when she isnt talking about stupid boys, and gets Really into the romance aspects of the book that Elka herself enjoys. and elka ends up enjoying it too, because without kitty around, franke is just such a good listener, and a little charming, and does whatever she asks, and gosh, if she was a boy she’d be everything elka wanted, wouldnt she? oh well!

and even though she looks, she cant find an end in sight for their future. maybe this friendship could be different from kitty, maybe she doesnt have to be afraid of how close they are. so she lets it happen, because it distracts her from the grief of boys who refuse to understand her. every time her and nils break up, franke is there to say Well, he never deserved you anyhow! and she feels better for just a little while.

this isnt even getting INTO the feelings that evolve over the future and the self destruction elka puts herself thru to secure her marriage but ive rambled enuff. maybe you all will feel what i feel if only for a moment

#uh yeah definitely putting this under a read more the levels of delusion here are too much. #elka doom #franke athens #psychonauts

[readingrobin]

Since I was caught up in the Magical Readathon this month, it gave me the opportunity to pick up my pace a bit reading-wise. Managed to get into those sweet double digits when it came to how much I read and the majority of them were great. It started off on a high note, but I think by the end I was getting into some very lukewarm reads. Nothing too terrible, since I didn't manage to DNF anything this month, but it's always disappointing to end a month with a whimper rather than a bang.

Total Books Reads: 11

Total Pages Read: 3,520

Books Read:

Murder for the Modern Girl by Kendall Kulper (3.5/5) (Review)

All the Stars and Teeth by Adalyn Grace (3/5) - A sea faring journey is just what I needed to get in the mood for a summer that feels not too far off. I will say, this book definitely lives up to its promise of adventure, due to its tense, bloody action and introduction to a world with a interesting magic system, though I did find myself constantly confused and unable to really visualize soul magic. I think the book's greatest strength is its setting, where each island holds its own kind of magic and traits. Though we didn't see every island, I'm sure the rest will be left for the sequel to explore, there was enough to sate me for this particular journey.

When it comes to our main crew, I think I have to echo some other reviews by saying Amora comes off as the least interesting. Bastian has his charm and inner turmoil that he tries to keep behind a mischievous facade, Ferrick, his foil, a bit more straight laced and focused, while also having the neat featuring of regrowing limbs, and Vataea, a mermaid with a sultry, yet scary strength. And Amora is…just there. She's the princess, our main character, the one who believes she alone can save the kingdom, which somewhat makes me feel like she views her crew as nothing more than lackeys and sidekicks who are but tools to help her get to each destination while she does the most self-sacrifical work. I know she's meant to be a stubborn royal who was most likely raised to believe so, but it still doesn't exactly put her in the best light to the reader.

The writing itself kept my attention, but the plot had the standard twists and formula one finds in most YA fantasy. Nothing wrong with a formulaic plot, but there should be some sort of window dressing or aesthetic that keeps it from fading into the background with all the rest like it. My mind was starting to expect certain plot beats, only to go "ah, there it is" when the shoe inevitably dropped.

Mage and the Endless Unknown by SJ Miller (4/5) - Not gonna lie, this graphic novel gets rough. If you're up for seeing a little mage constantly facing some sort of traumatizing event from the terrifying creatures he meets on his travels, well, this'll certainly do it for you. The artist really has a knack for drawing unnerving, rigidly detailed creatures that give off a Junji Ito vibe. The contrast of the amount of gore, violence, and disturbing visuals offset the more friendly and cartoonish looking mage, giving the idea that one of these things doesn't belong in this setting. Though upsetting at points, there is a glimmer of hope to this comic, one that offers a sense of peace and rest. The comic does have a physical release coming out, but you can read it now on the magecomic website.

Elatsoe by Darcie Little Badger (4/5) - It's odd how I went into this book having both some expectations, mostly due my friends and everyone else lauding it extensively, and no expectations at all. This pretty much happens whenever I'm 3-5 years behind reading the latest hot titles. But Elatsoe really does live up to its clout. The world has a somewhat normalized take on the paranormal, where vampires, or "cursed" individuals, magic users, and faeries are a known part of the world, interacting with society with life pretty much going on as normal. Well, aside from the string of mysterious deaths that seem to linger around a small town in the middle of Texas. It presents a setting that is both familiar and yet holds a bit of intrigue in a sort of alternate Earth containing all the history of our world with just some extra bits.

I loved the incorporation of Lipan Apache culture in the story, giving it an identity all its own and more weight to its events. The theme of oppressors actively displacing and sacrificing the oppressed to survive and further their own needs will always be haunting, especially when tied to the history between colonizers and indigenous peoples. Little Badger gives an equal amount of lamentation for the crimes of the past and present, while also celebrating the endurance of culture and its teachings that are passed down throughout the ages. 

A big plus for making Ellie's asexuality just a casual feature of her character rather than making it an entire plot point. As an asexual person, I'm glad to have any normalizing representation that's more than an entire story where the protagonist has to repeatedly defend and validate their sexuality to other people. Here, it's just a part of her being, no big thing, and that's the way it should be. 

Nettle & Bone by T. Kingfisher (4/5) - I've been hearing a lot of good things about T. Kingfisher and how I would really jive with her work. Well, diving into a story with a main character that has trouble really understanding the world around her while also bringing together a group that may qualify as one of the odder found families definitely wins me over.

I think what really endears me to this book is how much I appreciate Marra as a character. I love how, despite how constantly and profoundly out of her depth she is, she is still determined to do anything to protect her family. That, while she is surrounded by people who, on the surface, are more exemplary and powerful, she is capable of working marvels. What makes her stand out among other royal heroines is that her abilities are not tied to skills she earned through her title or some kind of destiny, but a certain domesticity she finds comfort in and developed all by herself. Marra is a self made woman, wanting to make herself of use to others instead of sitting around, waiting to be used as a chess piece. I think there's something amiable in depicting a sort of power in the mundane, that, with enough determination and love, could be as strong as any weapon or magic.

The writing style makes it so immersive as a dark fairy tale. Kingfisher always nails the tone of a scene, whether it be unnerving, reflective, mysterious, or tinged with a hint of humor. There were some elements I think could have been expanded upon. I wish we got a little bit more characterization from Prince Vorling other than what we got as second hand accounts. Most of the time, he never really felt like a threat, just something far away and not really tangible, despite his lingering marks on Kania. I really wanted to see more of that Goblin Market as well. So very ripe with fantastical possibilities.

The Moth Keeper by K. O'Neill (3/5) - O'Neill, throughout all of their work, knows what it takes to make each of their worlds atmospheric, engaging, and magical. It's mainly through their artwork, which is just totally immaculate here. The night scenes, will covered in a dark, expansive sky, still have a certain glow about them, coming from Anya's lantern and the ethereal presence of the moths. The adding of animal characteristics to the characters also bring about a certain kind of charm, though I wonder if there was a purpose behind these designs beyond aesthetic. The art itself make it worth checking out, but I don't think it ultimately saves a story that seems somewhat empty.

I think, as I was reading, I never felt totally ingrained in the world. It seemed almost aloof in nature, not really explaining certain things or leaving other elements up to interpretation. I mentioned the story seeming somewhat empty, which kind of makes sense for one that has a desert setting and deals with feelings of loneliness in a community and isolating yourself. But there's not really much else that compensates for that space, not in depth worldbuilding or interesting character dynamics. The message is a reassuring one, that your responsibilities in your community shouldn't be a source of isolation, but rather a way to get closer to them. It's a simple, reflective story, which is fine, but I think I was expecting more out of the premise.

The Cloud Roads by Martha Wells (3/5) - Wells certainly has a penchant for emotionally aloof and antisocially prone main characters, but I'm all for it. In a world devoid of humans and populated by a slew of humanoid creatures, the story offers a setting completely alien to the reader, which leaves a lot up to the imagination. At first, it was somewhat difficult for me to properly visualize all the differences between the species. The book already has an appendix for how to differentiate between the Raksura and the Fell, so it would have been helpful to have another that focused on the other races in the world.

I don't know if this is just me, but I thought that it was somewhat odd that, despite possibly coming from a similar ancestor, the Raksura are an all sentient, rational thinking race among all their classes, but the Fell are a mostly animalistic hivemind species aside from their rulers. It kind of made for a messy parallel and I think was to make the reader empathize more with the Raksura and showcase the Fell as entirely evil with no capability for civility. I suppose it certainly helps side with the heroes as the two constantly slaughter each other, but it makes for a pretty boring antagonist that is simply evil scary monsters just because. The story seemed like it had a few opportunities to go deeper than that, as Cloud has a history with them and Wells has shown that she is capable of more nuanced storytelling, but fell off about halfway through.

I wish there had been more time set aside for Cloud to truly learn about his people and reflect on his place in their society before they thrust him into the hierarchical issues and the disputes with the Fell. Cloud has only just found his people for the first time after losing his mother and siblings as a child, wandering alone and hiding what he is from others, and I don't think we get a lot of him reflecting on what that truly means. Also, imagine going through all that, and discovering that your main purpose in that society was basically to breed. Again, may just be a personal thing, but I know that would certainly lead to an existential dilemma for me. Personally, I'm not a fan of society structures as, "you're born as this class, so obviously you must serve that role forever" seems too dystopic for my tastes. Wells subverts this with Chime in a way, but again, doesn't really tap the full ramifications or intrigue behind it.

The Sandman Universe: Nightmare Country Vol 1. by James Tynion IV and Lisandro Estherran (5/5) - It's very rare that I find a Sandman-affiliated comic that I don't like really. I love this world and all the terrifying sorts of beings that live within it. I know Tynion more for his young adult Wynd series, but know that he's very capable at writing horror and Nightmare Country certainly proves it. This comic takes Sandman back to its horror roots, following the Corinthian as a being with teeth for eyes other than him has been stalking a woman in her waking life for some time now. This volume serves as a good setup to the story, getting all our main players in, bringing back some familiar faces and introducing some new ones. With how the story ended, I'm really interested to see where exactly it's going to go.

Vespertine by Margaret Rogerson (4/5) (Review)

Labyrinth Lost by Zoraida Córdova (3/5) - I feel very lukewarm about Labyrinth Lost. It wasn't a particularly bad book, I think it's just one where I've read similar stories before and they were told in a way that was more gripping to me. I didn't really connect with the simpler writing style, or connect with any of the characters. I think the only elements that I was really interested in was the magic system and the environments of Los Lagos. I'm always a fan of the trope of the tempting feast, the one meant to lure you in with delicious food and fascinating company, only to trick you into eating dirt and keep you there forever. It's a portal fantasy staple, really. 

It may be just a me thing since I was breezing through this book so quickly, but the pacing felt a bit off at times, with the action starting and stopping so often, especially towards the end. I think what really threw me off about the group is that we don't really have a strong trio of characters between Alex, Nova, and Rishi. Usually in fantasies that usually follow a group of three characters off on a typical quest, there's some cohesion to them. They may get off to a rocky start, but eventually they really start to work well as a unit and become stronger for it. Here, the group doesn't really feel like a stable triangle, as they usually range from being incredibly snarky and antagonistic towards each other (Alex and Nova at the start, then Rishi taking over that job from Alex as the two start to get on better) or being completely devoted to each other (Nova warming up to Alex, as well as Rishi being a constant supportive force and that's it). I wish Rishi got some kind of quality that made her more of an asset to the team other than Alex's best friend and love interest. She literally just fell into the portal to Los Lagos after Alex on accident and really doesn't serve a function other than backing Alex up. It doesn't make her that memorable as a character and it's a little disappointing.

I know there's plot reasons as to why they don't really feel like a great team but the twist towards the end probably would have hit a lot harder if they were. 

Other than that, the family dynamic was a great element of the story, which makes it a bummer that we don't really see more of them. I know the sequel follows Alex's sister, which would probably focus a bit more on that aspect, but I don't think I gel enough with this writer or the overall story to continue.

The Book Woman of Troublesome Creek by Kim Michele Richardson (2/5) - Though I may not have liked this book very much, I will say that I appreciate that it introduced me to an interesting aspect of history that I had not known before, such as the Pack Horse project and the Blue Fugates family. I'm a real big fan of pieces of history that slips through the cracks and lead the way for improvement in societies that were disadvantaged, which was one of the aims of the Pack Horse project. To know the dedication of librarians in this context, to be introduced how they would travel in dangerous conditions to bring people books and magazines that would either give them a relief for their hard lives, or help them learn new skills that would help them contribute in new ways to their families or communities was a much welcome lesson.

That's probably the only praise I can really give this book. I wasn't a fan of how this book centered on the constant sense of tragedy that lingers around Cussy May. It seems that, no matter how little good she experiences, she can't hold onto it for long or it's overshadows by the many, many horrible things that happen to her. Numerous sexual assaults, medical assault, losing so many people. At some point, it almost feels manipulative that we're constantly supposed to feel bad for Cussy, but at some point it gets to be too much to take seriously. Did I feel anger at all the injustice she faced? Sure, as any rational minded person would. But when the only thing your character experiences is constant hardship without any slack, it gets to be real repetitive and boring. And that ending was just the cherry out a cake made out of frustration and emotional exhaustion.

When it came to the author's treatment of race in the book, I'm just gonna say that it's a bit messy in certain scenarios. Framing Cussy, a person with blue skin, as someone who is somehow treated more poorly than the few black people in the community, was, I don't know, probably not a great choice. The scene with the doctor's Jamaican servant (you can tell she's Jamaican because the author makes sure to lean hard into the accent), who doesn't even let Cussy into his house or provide her a drink when he asks her to, just felt a little tone deaf. 

While I'm glad this books highlights the importance of literature within a community, as well as how wealth and information disparity leads people to become more disadvantaged, misinformed, and generally have harder ways of living, its tone and content just felt a little overbearing.

Average Rating: 3.5/5

#robin's book log #reading wrap up #monthly wrap up #murder for the modern girl #all the stars and teeth #mage and the endless unknown #elatsoe #nettle and bone #the moth keeper #the cloud roads #nightmare country #vespertine #labyrinth #the book woman of troublesome creek

[mentally-illenial]

Content Warning ⚠️ : drug mention, PTSD, stress and complaining

We officially sold the big car yesterday. There's a demand for used and new cars right now; dealerships have been shrinking in inventory since last summer. So a local dealership was quick to offer us our asking price, which is a godsend, honestly. But I didn't feel any relief or happiness about it yesterday. I know it's going to take a huge chunk out of our bill debt, and I'm incredibly grateful we had the resource to use as needed... But I feel bad. I feel guilty about selling a very generous gift that we only had for a year. I feel stressed that we had to downsize because we can't even afford something as simple as the gas for the big car, let alone should anything happen to it. I'm stressed that we lost a valuable vehicle, as our family is ever growing and genuinely could use the extra space and power (towing, storage, etc). And I'm anxious as fuck about the financial situation still. I've been applying for jobs regularly, and without bias; I had an interview at the most depressing Aldi store I've ever seen in my life the other day. I'm willing to work in service or retail hell to keep us balanced. But I'm honestly not content with the situation. And though selling the car brings in a significant amount of monetary relief, it feels like I've just borrowed a couple more days of uneasy peace, and that nothing has actually improved.

Last night I was feeling so upset, so I took a kpin before bed. I was tired and needed the sleep, but the anxiety and stress were making my body and mind so tense that it felt like I wasn't even lying there, but instead floating out of pure tension just over the sheets lol. I did knock out eventually, but now I'm groggy and just kind of bummed out today. I have a run that I'm planning to get to soon, and that's a nice thing to look forward to. But then it's back to the job grind, taking care of the house/husband/pups, and just trying to keep moving on. I'm out of a lot of core recipe ingredients. I'm out of my DOC (coffee lol); I have black tea, so at least my caffeine addiction is placated. My husband is just as picky as his kids and prefers foods that I don't have or don't have the ingredients to make right now... And my PTSD gives me extreme anxiety when someone close to me even comes off as upset, whoops.

My goal is to just tighten all the belts and just make it through this summer. I don't want the kids to worry or feel pressured about our financial issues. It's not their responsibility or burden to carry. Unexplainably luckily, my sister and mom have offered to help with groceries while the kids are here, so that's one fewer stressor on my mind for the next two months. Granted, they're preteen and teenaged, so they eat like rabid ship rats lol, so I'm not certain how long things will last. But they do enjoy some very cheap and easy meals like pancakes and chicken and dumplings, so that's stuff I can whip up with relatively cheap ingredients. But I'll have to keep looking for work while trying to keep everyone afloat.

It's not very helpful, also, that it seems all my husband wants to talk about or watch/listen to is bad news. I realize everything is awful right now and good news is few and far between, but every day, all day, he just wants to reiterate all the awful things happening around and to us. It's just his modus operandi for processing, I think, but it really wears me down. I KNOW how fucking terrible everything is. I KNOW how corrupt the government and the powerful corporations they shield are, despite the dire needs of the very people and economy that fund their existence. I KNOW the earth is dying and supply chains are breaking down and people are being violent all the time. Even when I try my damndest to ignore anything but good news/content, the realities seep through. And having my only constant human contact and partner constantly reiterating the awful echoes of our current realities just makes me feel so pressurized. There's no true relief to be had anywhere.

Blegh. Sorry if you read all that and are bummed out now lol. I just don't have anywhere else to put this weight. Which reminds me, I'm also supposed to be looking for a therapist right now... ugh. I hope everyone is hanging in there and doing okay right now. 💙

[c-is-for-circinate]

Like, is the gist "Real life pedophilia/incest/rape is bad, and stories saying these things are good are bad, but including these topics in a story isn't inherently bad, so the people being like 'hey, maybe Ao3 shouldn't have so much kiddie porn there's an entire category called "Underage"' are just overreacting and making things worse?" Because it feels like you're saying, "your negative reaction to this stuff is valid, but also you're annoying and prudish and bad and really you aren't valid."

So here’s the thing: it really does not sound like you're asking this question because you want my answer, it sounds like you want to be angry with me and have a fight. And fair enough! I'm not terribly interested in a fight, but apparently this is my day to dive into this topic as thoughtfully and honestly as I can be. Maybe I'll say something you haven't already heard from other people before. Maybe not! Only you, anonymous asker, know that.

To begin with, you got part of the gist right. Real life rape (including child abuse/child sexual abuse as well as incest) is bad. Stories about rape, about underage sex, and about incest, are stories.

They're stories. They're pixels on a screen. They're not real. Whether they claim that rape is good, or bad, or sexy, or melodramatic, or life-destroying, or a normal Tuesday afternoon. They're stories.

And having a negative reaction to them is valid. Stories can stir up powerful emotions in people. It is absolutely, 100%, fair and valid and even normal for there to be certain tropes, plot elements, events, and kinds of content that make you upset and that you never want to see in a story you read, ever. You don't have to want to read about sex. You don't have to want to read any of it. That doesn't make you bad.

There are tropes, plot elements, events, and kinds of content that upset me. There are stories I won't read. The same is true of literally everyone else I know. Even though I know the stories aren't real. Even though I know the things happening in them are happening to fictional characters, who do not exist, who I cannot protect and who also cannot be harmed because they're not real. Even then, I can be made sad and scared and upset and hurt by reading those stories. And that is okay and that is valid and I am not bad or wrong for being upset about the story I've read, and neither are you.

But that doesn't mean the story doesn't have value to somebody else. That doesn't mean the story isn't important to somebody else.

What I see most often coming from antis, possibly even including yourself, is an overwhelming desire to protect. They want to keep themselves and others--possibly people they know, possibly hypothetical people they may never meet--safe from being hurt by these stories. And that desire to protect, also, is normal. It's even admirable! The problem, though, the thing that does more harm than good, is when that desire to protect drives people to lash out against things that matter to other people.

There is a difference between actual rape and stories about rape. There is a difference between a story that could theoretically hurt somebody, someday (which is all stories, always), and a story that hurts you personally. And there is a difference between a story that hurts you personally, and a story that is inherently poisonous to everyone who touches it.

We know--absolutely, scientifically, incontrovertibly--that stories about rape do not make people rapists. Yes, even the stories where the rape is there to be sexy. Even stories where the person being raped is a child. Even then. Fiction is not the same thing as normalization; again, there are far smarter people who have written far more extensively on that topic than I, and next time I come across something that goes more into detail on this point I promise I will reblog it. If this really is the thing you're afraid of, I may not be the right person to convince you that this is an unfounded fear, but I know someone out there can elaborate on it.

(Unfounded, which is not the same thing as invalid. My mother's claustrophobia is unfounded; it flares up in many situations where there's no physical threat whatsoever, where she has plenty of space to move and air to breathe. It's still real. It still chokes her. It's still valid, she is not bad or broken to feel that way, and she still can't drive through certain tunnels. The fear is real. But the thing she's afraid of can't physically hurt her, and that is worth knowing in terms of how she deals with it.)

We know, absolutely, scientifically, and incontrovertibly, that stories about rape and many, many, many other things can hurt and even traumatize their readers. Even though the situation you're reacting to is not real and you receive no physical injury, you can still be hurt by it. The key word there, though, is readers. The fact that the horror genre is out there terrifying people who enjoy being terrified for fun does not damage me unless I do something stupid and try listening to the Magnus Archives again and end up tense and miserable and paranoid for the rest of the week. The fact that guacamole is apparently delicious to everybody else in the world does not hurt me unless I do something stupid and order the wrong thing at a restaurant, and end up itchy and miserable with a little trouble breathing for the rest of the night.

The fact that there are, yes, tens of thousands of fics on AO3 in which characters under the age of 18 have sex? It can't hurt you. Those fics do not hurt you by existing. They can only hurt you if you read them. They can only hurt anyone who reads them. That's why there is an 'Underage' tag--and it's worth noting, 'Underage' is a warning, not a category. Nobody wants you to get hurt reading the wrong fic, any more than the sushi chef wants my throat to swell up because I ordered something with avocado. Literally nobody wants that.

The flip side, of course, is that you hating each and every one of those fics individually and as a group doesn't actually hurt me, or anyone else who writes, reads, or enjoys them. By itself. You can hate anything you like, and fic writers can write anything they like, and it all comes out in the end, more or less. Except.

Except that reading fic is always, entirely, 100% opt-in, and online harassment isn't even opt-out. Some antis have a nasty habit of going after writers whose content they don't like; climbing into inboxes and comments sections, calling those writers nasty names, throwing around cruelties and aggression and insults. I know that's not the same thing as simply disliking a genre, or even passively disagreeing with its existence (although disliking a genre and disagreeing with its right to exist are also very different things). I know not all antis do that. I don't know you, anon, but based on the speed and aggressiveness of this response to my last post, I can't help but wonder if you would do that.

And that does hurt people. Just like it might hurt you if someone threw a bunch of content that makes you uncomfortable into your inbox. Including the harasser, actually--because getting into fights with strangers on the internet about things that make you angry, sad, defensive, and upset isn't good for anybody. Including both you and me.

Anyway, after yet another lengthy ramble, let's get the tl;dr response to your ask here: nobody is ever bad or wrong for disliking certain content in their stories, no matter what that content is. You and your emotions are valid. The "overreacting and making things worse" part isn't about what you feel, but what you do with it. Constantly engaging with places where the thing that upsets you will probably show up, even to argue and try to fight it, will make things worse in the sense that now you're spending way more time thinking about this thing that makes you upset and angry, thereby leaving you more upset and angry. Getting together with a bunch of your upset, angry friends to make your feelings everybody else's problem? Makes fandom a more toxic place for everyone else involved.

Don't read stuff that's going to hurt you. Don't make other people read stuff that's going to hurt them. That's the whole thing, really.

#Anonymous #asked and answered #rape cw #incest cw #discourse #anti discourse day

[7-wonders]

Honey Honey, Nearly Kills Me (werewolf!Duncan Shepherd)

You understand that Duncan Shepherd is a busy man. You knew that when you first agreed to go on a date with him, and three months into what's now a full-blown relationship, you especially know it now. His busy schedule is not something that you hold against him, considering you're pretty busy yourself. Still, one of the only rules you mutually had was that, when you're spending time together, work and life and everything that kept you away from each other was only supposed to be tended to if absolutely necessary.

That core guideline is the reason that, as you sit across the table from him, you're silently fuming.

This is the third time he's checked his phone in as many minutes, and you're getting pretty sick of it. All night he's been off. His eyes have been constantly shifting around the restaurant, and his body language is extremely tense. He keeps drinking glass after glass of water like he ran to get here instead of driving, and there's a little bit of sweat on his brow that makes you wonder what he was doing before dinner.

As far as you're aware, there's no looming deadline for Congress to push through tonight, and his staff at the Foundation know not to call him on his evenings unless the building is on fire or the FBI is sniffing around (which, apparently, happened to him before). So why the hell does he keep looking at his phone like he has somewhere better to be?

You sigh in annoyance, deciding to test how well he's paying attention by saying something completely out of left field. "So anyways, when the goats came running through our archives, it was quite the shock. Had to make sure they didn't eat the papers, and all."

Duncan hums.

"You're not listening at all, are you?"

He finally looks at you, and you can almost feel your anger seeping away when he shoots you a sheepish smile. "I'm sorry. I'm being a really terrible person right now."

You fight the urge to say that it's okay, because you've been working on trying to be more assertive. "Is something on your mind?"

"It's just...getting late, is all."

Now you check your own phone. "Dunc, it's six o'clock."

"Yes, and I have stuff I need to do. You don't know everything about my life, Y/N," he snaps.

You recoil as if he physically slapped you with his words. You've never seen his emotions change so fast, and he's never spoken to you in such a tone before. Looking away from him as you feel the heat of anger rising to your face, you motion to the waiter that's been serving you. "Can we get the check, please?"

"Absolutely. Will this be on one tab this evening?"

"Ye--" Duncan starts.

"No. Two, please." Duncan's stunned into silence. Rightfully so, you think.

Silently, you each pay your respective bills before walking outside and getting into the car. The sunset is beautiful tonight, and you'd make a note of it to Duncan if you weren't so upset at him. You purposefully walk just a little bit faster than him to prevent him from opening your door like he normally does. Petty, but it gives you enough satisfaction to get you through the car drive.

Well, you'll get through the drive if Duncan doesn't kill you on the way home. He's driving like he's being chased, weaving in and out of traffic with a white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel. You grab onto the handle above your seat as tight as you can, genuinely worried that you're going to get into a crash.

"Will you slow down!" you yell after he narrowly avoids sideswiping another car. The traffic finally begins to thin, and it's then that you notice that you're heading out of D.C. Suddenly, every true crime podcast you've ever listened to comes flooding to the forefront of your mind.

You really don't want to be the next case covered on Morbid.

The sun continues to set, but it doesn't get darker. A luminescent full moon slowly begins to take center stage, and if you weren't worried about being murdered and chopped up into small pieces, you might take time to admire it. You've been driving for at least half an hour now, and you think you'll reach Baltimore in record time if Duncan keeps driving like this.

"Where are we going, Duncan?"

"Away from the city," he says tensely, not taking his eyes off of the road.

"I can see that, but why are we going away from the city?" you ask. He doesn't respond, and you can feel your chest tighten with fear. "Are you going to kill me?"

Duncan laughs, and you really don't know what to make of it. "It's the exact opposite. I'm trying to protect you."

"This is a funny way of showing it."

He's sweating even more now, you can see it glinting on his cheekbones in the light of the moon. Suddenly, Duncan veers off the road, taking his immaculate, expensive Benz down a dirt road in the middle of a forest somewhere between D.C. and Baltimore. Duncan would never get dirt on this car if he could help it, or even take it on a slightly bumpy road lest a stray pothole knock the car's alignment out of place. You're on the verge of hyperventilating now, and you shakily force the door open and tumble out of the car the moment he slams on the brakes.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Your voice echoes through the trees, only birds and whatever other animals call this forest home around to listen to you.

Duncan also exits the car, attempting to cross around to your side. You move the opposite way, trying to keep distance between you two. "Look, to put it simply, I forgot what day it was."

You laugh in disbelief. "So you decide to snap at me and proceed to drive like a bat out of hell for 20 miles out of the city?"

"There's a lot that you don't know about me, Y/N." His hands run through his hair as he paces back and forth, getting more and more agitated.

"Y'know, you've already said that once tonight, and that's what got us into this situation." Duncan groans, stumbling backwards away from you as he grips his head, looking like he's in pain. "So tell me! What is it that I don't know about you?"

"Do you believe in the supernatural?"

You scoff. "What, like ghosts? That's seriously what we're doing right now, telling ghost stories?"

"More like werewolves." He lifts his head from his hands, and the breath escapes your lungs. His normally-blue eyes are gone, replaced with irises that glow red. And that's not a simile; they're literally glowing.

"What the fuck," you whisper to yourself.

"I only have a little bit of time, baby, so I'm going to explain as best as I can." He tugs his shirt up over his head, and you realize that he's stripping, which is the least surprising thing to happen tonight. "Five years ago, I was bitten by what I thought was a wild dog when I was vacationing in Aspen. I went to the doctor, they ran tests for rabies and infection and they all came back negative. I thought I was fine, until the next full moon came around."

He bends at the middle in pain, and you can see his muscles flexing in his back. You want to go help him, but something in your mind tells you to stay put.

"Then, I learned what had really bitten me. Apparently, werewolves run a very connected network across the US. The D.C. werewolves knew I had been bitten, and were more than happy to take me in and show me the ropes. They said I had been bitten by a rogue werewolf, one that refused their body's attempts to shift back after the full moon ends."

"So you're a werewolf." You're not questioning him, rather, you're trying to wrap your head around what he's said by repeating it out loud.

"Yes, one that's--" a strangled yell rips from his throat, "one that's trying everything to hold back from shifting right now."

His hands shake as he reaches to the ground, grabbing his car keys and tossing them towards you. You fumble them, but manage to catch them before looking at him in confusion.

"I didn't mean for you to find out this way. Truth be told, you've made me distracted in the best ways. Distracted enough that I forgot when the full moon was when I asked you to go to dinner with me tonight."

"It's okay, Dunc." You're not sure what you're comforting him for, but you want him to know that you don't hold anything against him.

"You need to leave. Take my car, go back to the city, and go home."

"What about you?"

He screams, and you swear you can hear bones breaking. "I'll be fine. Please, I won't be able to bear it if I hurt you. Get in the car, Y/N."

For once, you don't argue with him. You climb into the car through the passenger side before sitting in the driver's seat and locking the door. Looking out the window, you only see a flash of his eyes and hear the howl of a wolf before jamming the keys into the ignition and peeling away from the forest.

When you reach the main highway and begin to drive back to D.C., tears start to fall. Not because you're scared for yourself, but because you're scared for Duncan. In the span of an hour, you've thought you were going to be murdered, driven out to the middle of nowhere, scared out of your wits, found out werewolves were real, and learned that your boyfriend was a werewolf.

Duncan, on the other hand, had to reveal his most shameful secret in a way that he wasn't comfortable with. And in your opinion, that's worse than all that you've been through. Even as you reach the bright lights of the city once again, your mind is already made up with what you'll be doing tomorrow.

You're up before the sun, driving back to the spot where everything changed less than twelve hours ago. With two large cups of coffee and a bundle of clothes in tow, you wait. Sure enough, when the first light of dawn begins to peek through the trees and the morning sun awakens, Duncan comes stumbling out of the woods. He's naked, and leaves are stuck in his hair. It's entirely unlike Duncan, and you sigh when you think about the kind of night he must have had.

Leaving the heat on and the car running, you grab the clothes you had grabbed from his apartment and get out of the car. He only notices you when you close the door, the sound waking him from whatever post-shift stupor he was in.

"Y/N?" Duncan says, unsure if what he's seeing is real. "You're here. You came back?"

"Of course I came back." You push yourself off of the side of the car, holding out the sweatpants and sweatshirt that you had managed to find among the button downs and slacks he's so fond of. "I come bearing gifts."

"You're a godsend, I'm freezing." You toss the clothes to him, averting your eyes as he gets dressed. Even though you've seen him naked before, you're not sure how he's feeling after everything that's happened.

"Don't wolves run hot?" you ask.

"Yeah, normally I do. Something about the shifting back and forth throws your systems out of whack for a little bit."

"Well, there's coffee in the car to get you warmed up a bit more, and I--oh!" You're cut off by Duncan surging forward to wrap you in a tight hug, your arms automatically going around his (clothed) form.

"Thank you," he mutters into your hair. "I've been so scared that you would leave me when you found out, and then last night was my worst nightmare come true. I thought you were gone for good."

"Never, Dunc," you say, looking at him to get the point across. "You hear me? I'm here, with you, for the long haul. The good, the bad, the...hairy."

He laughs, and you know that everything is going to be okay. "I love you."

It's the first time he's said it, but compared to shifting in front of you, it's the easiest thing he's ever done. There's no hesitation in you, either. "I love you too."

He kisses your forehead softly, and you melt in his embrace. "You said there was coffee in the car?"

You nod. "And the heat's on full blast."

"That sounds like a dream," he sighs. "You're a dream."

"Let's go, then. Don't want you turning into a pup-sicle."

He groans at your pun, making you snicker. "You're not gonna stop with the wolf jokes, are you?"

"Never." You grin at him, and he knows that everything is going to be alright.

//

idk tiny baby taglist: @dark-mei-rose @blakescoven @angelicmichael ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

#duncan shepherd #duncan shepherd imagines #duncan shepherd imagine #duncan shepherd x reader #werewolf duncan #house of cards #house of cards imagine #hoc #hoc imagine

[yeahimaloser]

By The Window

Hi everyone! Sorry this might have taken a while, I was a little stressed out, but here it is! I hope you like it! it’s a little hurt/comfort one-shot! This ones a littttle bit more spicy than my other one shots but is still sfw :)) so I hope you enjoy!!

summary: God, you missed him, you missed Keigo so much that it hurt, you wished over and over agian for him to just come back home to you. 

Reader has no pronouns metioned

4k words

You faced the window, sighing.

How long had it been, 2, 3 months since you’ve seen Hawks? It felt like a lifetime ago when he kissed you goodbye, it felt as though you had forgotten the way his hands held you, it felt like you hadn’t seen those piercing golden eyes in years.

Your heart yearned for him to come home, you knew that it was for a mission, you knew that he had to have no outside contact, but still, all you wanted was him, for him to come home.

Nothing felt right without Keigo, everything felt wrong. Watching movies felt like a tedious effort, without Keigo holding you to him it felt lonely. Sleeping felt uncomfortable, the bed never felt so big without him inside the covers. Even eating felt different, without Keigo talking to you about work, just talking about random things that never failed to put a smile on your face. 

You tried to cheer yourself up, but it made no difference. 

No matter how much self-care you did to try and relax, your body still craved him. Still wished he was there with you, holding you, teasing you. You felt as though you were going crazy without him.

You even thought about how he would be acting if he were with you, how he would randomly start slow dancing with you in the kitchen when you prepared dinner, how he would joke with you, how he would softly kiss your lips after a long day. How he would tell you stories about his work while in bed, making little patterns on your stomach as you drifted off to sleep, his voice soothing you until your mind fogged over. You supposed you missed the domestic bliss of it all, you missed how your heart leaped whenever he spoke to you, you missed the way his voice sounded whenever he would just mindlessly talk to you. The way his love never failed to make you feel more alive.

Every day without him felt like a sin, like being without him felt wrong. Like being away from him felt like you had committed some sort of crime, and you were doing something wrong.

It hit you again, that pang. After Keigo left, after about a week that’s when you started to feel it. It came in small waves at first, with small little feelings of sadness. When you would have to make dinner for one, when you had to sleep alone. That’s how it started anyway. But now, it had gotten bigger. The waves increased until you were practically drowning in your loneliness. You hated it, you hated everything about it.

Still looking out the window, you quickly wiped a tear that seemed to fall on your cheek.

You weren't sure why you refused to cry, no one would see if you did, no one was around to see you break down. But maybe you didn’t want yourself to admit it, to admit how you felt like you couldn’t live without Keigo by your side. Maybe you didn’t want to see yourself cry, to admit how utterly angry you were at the universe for taking Keigo away for this long.

Perhaps it was wrong of you to want him to come back, maybe it was wrong of you to just want him back in your arms. It probably was, he had a job, and here you were, upset that he wasn’t with you. You just hated it, hated all of it.

He didn’t tell you when he would be back, only that he would be gone for a big mission, he told you how much he would miss you, how he would fly home to you immediately, even if his wings were on fire, he wouldn’t stop till he saw you again.

So you waited by the window, waited for him to fly through the window, to kiss away your tears, to push away your loneliness with his strong, secure, hands. For you to feel him again, for you two to just… be together again.

Yet, you knew that wouldn’t happen. 

Keigo was miles away from Japan, on a secret stupid government mission, you hated it. Was it so much to ask to have your boyfriend back to you? Was it too much to see him again? For his voice to soothe you? All you wanted… was him.

The sky was now darker, the sun had started to set, and the sky brightened with different colors, illuminating its beauty. Normally, you would find something like this beautiful, but without Keigo to enjoy it with you, it made you feel uneasy. It made you feel like you were enjoying some bittersweet moment, but in the end, it just became bitter.

You hated all this, you hated when Keigo had to leave you for so long, you hated that you couldn’t enjoy your boyfriend for long periods of time. But most of all, you hated how selfish you felt.

Keigo was out there, risking himself so the world could be a better place, but here you were, wondering when he would be back. You felt like such an idiot, like a terrible person.

Yet, you couldn’t help it. You just missed him so much, you couldn’t help how lonely you were without him with you, without his calming presence you felt lost, like you had strayed away from him. You hated it, hated feeling so worthless and horrible.

But that didn’t mean you didn’t feel worried about him, quite the opposite. Whenever his name was even mentioned, you couldn’t help but tense up, thinking, “Are they gonna announce that he's ok? That he’s not? What if he never comes home? What if…”

But whenever you had those doubts that intruded your mind, you would always remember what Keigo had told you, “What? You’re worried about me? Why? You know I’ll always come back to you, I love you! I won't leave you, I promise. I’m a hero, I’m strong, I’ll always come back to you, my dove, no matter what. You can always count on me to see you again, even if I can barely stand, I’ll always come home to you. And besides, I think you're the only person who would be willing to put up with someone like me!”

You remembered how you had teased him about how cheesy the line was. But looking back on it, those words kept you going, every time you felt hopeless, you would always come back to those words, those words that would comfort you. Even if they were cheesy, they still reassured you, still helped keep you going even though your world felt like it might collapse on top of you.

You heard a chirp, snapping you out of your thoughts, a red little bird had landed on the window sill, chirping a happy sounding tone. You would normally smile at the cute thing, but even a small bird reminded you of Keigo, making your smile falter. 

There wasn't very much daylight left, but still, just getting outside and finding some nice fresh air would soothe you enough. A breath of fresh air might have been just what you needed, to beath out the loneliness you felt.

You stood from your spot next to the window, stretching as you did so. You haphazardly put on a light sweater and shoes, you would only be gone for a little amount of time. You still had yet to make dinner for yourself.

Locking the door to your home, you set off.

You supposed it really wasn’t your home, it was Keigo’s. After he had made your relationship public, he asked you to move in with him. He had been so cute and kind about the whole thing, constantly making sure you were ok with the move and were fine living with him. He really didn’t want you to feel like you had to do anything that you were uncomfortable with. 

Keigo was always like that though, always making sure you were ok and secure, always checking up on you. But whenever you did the same, asking if he was ok, he would always push you off and tell you some bullshit about how you shouldn’t worry. That was one thing you hated about your boyfriend, how stubborn he was. No matter how much you reassured him that you loved and accepted him, he only got as far as telling you his name, telling you what it meant to him. He told you once, that he just preferred to look onto the future instead of dwindling on the past. You liked the sentiment, but still, you hoped that in the future he would open up to you more.

You walked down the sidewalk of the city. Yet, it seemed more peaceful than it usually was, the sunset in the background, the soft wind, the overall glow of the city that you and Keigo lived in was beautiful. You wished he could see it. You wished he would hold your hand, whispering jokes and praises in your ear, teasing you, and playfully talking about his day.

You were struck with that wave again, that feeling of sadness, of loneliness. It was just so hard without him, you didn’t really think you would miss him this much, this was the first big mission where he would be gone from you, and you hated it, no, you despised it.

You just felt like a piece of you had left, and it hadn’t come back for so long. Some days your mind would start to drift too much, wondering if that knock would come on your door, telling you that Keigo Takami was gone. You tried your best to stifle those thoughts, to push them away. Keigo would come back to you, he promised.

You balled your hands into fists, determined not to cry. You took a few deep breaths in order to calm yourself, trying to stabilize your mind from drifting. If you did cry though, would anyone care? Would anyone ask? What would you even say? The love of my life is risking everything so people will be safe, yet here I am, crying about how lonely I feel. It was annoying that a part of you wanted to cry, while another part of you wanted to push away those feelings, to just shove them down and for them to just go away. You just wanted to feel better again.

In an effort to distract yourself, you looked up at the sunset, trying to think of something other than Keigo. Trying to show your mind that it needed to stop thinking and craving him.

You took a shaky breath as you stopped walking, you had found a nearby park to try and calm your mind. 

You stopped to enjoy the view, but it was all so melancholy. It was all so bitter and wrong, you felt so out of place.

You sighed, perhaps this wasn’t the good idea you thought it was. 

But as you were about to walk off from the sunset, you felt it.

The flash of wind, the red in your vision, and finally, the feeling of a warm and tight embrace around you. The hands that rested on your hips, the chest that was pressed firmly against your back. The smell of the soft breeze, you recognized it. 

At first, You gasped, confused. What was going on? Who was holding you? 

Then you realized, it was Keigo.

The smell, the feeling, the presence, it was all him.

You whipped around to face him, he smiled at you, it was meant to be playful and teasing, but you could see the longing behind it, the way his eyes shone with love and want. The way his hands rubbed light circles on your hips, trying to reassure you he was really there with you, that he was home. 

Before you knew it, your eyes had started to water, you quickly tried to wipe them away, you didn’t want Keigo to see you so upset. 

But Keigo had already pulled you into him, kissing your cheek lightly, “Hey there Dove, did you miss me?”

It was a dumb line on his part, he knew you had missed him, he knew how much you were worried about him, how much you had been thinking about him while he was away.

He rubbed comforting circles on your back, “M-Maybe,” your words were meant to come out playful and teasing, but they came out shaky, which just made Keigo smirk.

You pulled back from him, getting a better look at him. The sunset light hit him perfectly, the sun seemed to glide through his hair, the piercing light set his eyes a glaze. His smile made your stomach flutter, the way he gently caressed you made you feel so safe and warm. His embrace was inviting and intoxicating, and you loved every second of it.

It was then that you realized he was in civilian clothes, a nice orange sweater that gave him an even more glow to his skin, if that was even possible. 

He was just… breathtaking.

You leaned into his lips, you couldn’t stand it anymore, you just missed him so much. 

He leaned into you too, if not more so. You had almost forgotten how warm and soft his lips were, how inviting and sweet they were. How his hands would hold you securely against him, making sure to reassure you that he was there, and he wasn’t leaving anytime soon.

The way he hungrily fed into you, kissing you back with more passion and strength. You had to admit, it was a little rough for him, normally his kisses were soft and careful, but you could tell that he craved you as much as you did him.

But after a few moments, you pulled away. Keigo tried to chase you back to him, tried to bring you back into his oh so lovely lips. But you knew better.

Even if all you wanted to do was to keep going, to kiss Keigo until both of you were sick of kissing one another, you knew that was better to do in the privacy of your home.

Keigo once told you that, “The media is always watching, babe, the last thing we want them to see is both of us kissing each other's faces off.”

It was clear that Keigo’s mind was a bit foggy with longing, you knew you two had to get home. Even if your body ached for Keigo to hold you, how your lips screamed for his, you wanted to savor him, not just rush and ruin it.

“Keigo, we should go home,” But Keigo whined, pulling your hips to him. But you just smiled, “come on Keigo, we can enjoy each other all we want when we get home,” you leaned into him, kissing the top of his nose, “I missed you so much baby, let's savor this, please.”

Keigo nodded, “Yeah you're right, I guess I got a little carried away there.”

You gave him a tired smile, “Believe me, I’m trying to not get too intoxicated myself. I just…” you trailed off, looking down at your hands, “I was so lonely without you Kei. I hated it, I just-”

But Keigo shushed you with a quick kiss on your cheek, “I know baby, me too. It was so hard, not holding you in my arms, not kissing you every night before I went to sleep, not seeing your stunning face,” you rolled your eyes, but Keigo just kissed your hairline lightly, “not to hear your beautiful voice. God, dove, let’s go home before I just say ‘fuck it’ to it all.”

You giggled a bit, you hated to admit it, but Keigo always had a way with words, he always knew what to say to make you smile and feel so much better. But you also hated how much you wished you could do the same to him.

“Come on Keigo, let's go home,” you intertwined your hand with his.

He brought your hand up to his lips, giving your knuckles a gentle kiss, “Lead the way lovebird.”

______

After you both had gotten back to the apartment, only stepping a few feet through the door, your hands were already firmly in Keigo’s hair, dragging him down for a kiss. It was sloppy, but it was passionate and love-filled. The way his hands roughly pulled you into him, the way he would break for a second, looking at you with love in his eyes, only to dive back in. The way his wings would puff when your hands brushed past them, it all felt too right. 

After a while, Keigo pulled away.

Now it was your turn to whine, to try and feel his lips again. “Hush, you cute thing,” he gave you a quick kiss on your nose, “don’t you need food? I don’t think you’ve eaten, have you?”

You glared at him, “No, but who cares! I missed you so much, I-I wished so hard that I could feel your lips again,” you looked away from Keigo, not wanting him to see you so flustered, “And I missed your hands,” you brought his left hand up to your lips, ghosting your lips over his knuckles. You could feel him tense up, so you kissed his palm. When you looked back up at him, he was bright red. 

Oh did you love that sight, when he would get red from embarrassment, from when you got to tease him for a change. You loved the way his wings would puff up, and he would try and calm them down. All of it was just downright cute.

You made your way up to his arm, “I missed these arms around me,” then to his neck, kissing his pulse point lightly “This delicious neck,” you said softly. You heard him gulp, it was clear that even though you craved him, his body and mind seemed to crave you just as much. You nipped at the spot a bit, just to watch his little struggle, but eventually, you made your way up to his lips, whispering against them, “So, Keigo Takami, is it ok if I enjoy myself a bit?”

He let out a light chuckle, but his eyes gave away his longing and desire, “Please do… but we have to eat dinner soon, I’m hungry.”

You sighed, “You ruined it,” but you really couldn’t be happier

_____

Your eyes fluttered open lightly, the light from the window peeking into your eyes.

You groaned, expecting to roll over to a cold, empty part of the bed. To realize that your delightful, kiss filled night was all just a dream. 

But when you did rollover, the other side of the bed was warm, yet still empty. You, still in your morning haze, were confused.

That was, until Keigo walked over to you, with a tray of breakfast foods. Then it all came back to you, how you both barely slept, too busy talking with each other, still wrapped In tight hugs, whispering little, “I love you”s through each kiss you shared.

It was all so lovely. 

You smiled up at him from your position on the bed, “What’s all this?”

He just smiled back at you, the sunlight mixing with his complexion made his skin so angelic, “I thought we could have some breakfast in bed. I-I kinda feel a little bad.” His puffy eyebrows knit together, his eyes darted away from yours.

You gave him a confused look, “Why’s that?”

He sighed, placing the tray down while sitting next to you on the bed. He lightly stroked your check, “I left for so long, baby, I know how lonely you were without me. I wished I could have been there, to hold you and kiss away your worry about me. I hate feeling helpless, especially when it’s with you.”

You smiled at him, “You have a way with words, Mr. Takami.”

He gave a little chuckle, leaning down to your lips, his hands still grabbing your hips lightly, pushing you firmly down on the bed, “And you have a way with my heart, my love.”

______

Of course, that wasn’t the end of Keigo’s pampering. Not only of you, but also of himself as well. 

He loved it when the two of you had a day off together. After you both ate breakfast in bed, he wouldn’t let you leave.

“Babbbbbe, you can't just leave me by myself. I need your cuddles and love,” he whined.

“Kei, sweety, I have to use the bathroom.”

When you got back though, he pulled you back into him, “You aren’t leaving me that early!”

You giggled, “Who said I wanted to birdboy.”

He nuzzled his face into your neck, kissed you lightly, whispering soft, lovely things, “I love you,” “I missed you so much,” “Your so warm baby.” He said each one after each kiss he left on your skin.

You relaxed into his touch, gently running your hands through his hair, down to his feathers.

He shuddered slightly, but didn’t stop you. You brushed them carefully, making sure not to damage them or irritate them in any way. You made sure you were being soft and, overall, gentle with him. Making sure when he would twitch you shudder as your fingers worked through his wings, they were good twitches and shudders.

“Mmmm, Baby,” he said, his face still planted firmly in your neck, “that feels nice. Thank you.”

“Thank you Keigo,” he kissed your neck again, gently, “thank you for coming back to me, thank you for pushing away my loneliness.”

“Oh, Dove,” he said, “thank you for waiting.”

You sighed, you loved this. You loved mornings where the two of you could just relax and bathe in each other, drinking one another up, taking your time savoring him as he did the same to you. The way both of you would just happily cuddle and lean into one another's touch. You loved the way Keigo would tiredly whisper sweet words to you, loved how his lips, although sloppy, would kiss your skin lightly. How his hands would rub your skin, relaxing you into his touch, making you lean that much more into him.

You just loved his presence.

“Keigo,” you said lightly.

“Yes sweetheart,” his words tickled your neck.

“I missed you.”

He rose from his spot on your bed, making you whine.

But you stopped when his eyes looked into yours, the way they were so intense, yet at the same time, so goddamn gooey. He just looked so soft, so utterly in love you thought the whole thing couldn’t be real, no one person could look down at someone with such pure love and adoration.

But Keigo did, “I missed you too, let me kiss away all the loneliness, all your longing, I’m here baby, and I’m not leaving anytime soon.”

#bnha hawks #hawks x reader #mha keigo takami #hawks x y/n #keigo takami #mha keigo x reader #keigo takami x reader #keigo x reader #mha fanfiction

[bb-bambam]

'Cause I'm Into It

Jeno likes to think of himself as a relatively easy-going person. Most of the time, he's content to let things happen and remains unbothered by them. There are some occasions, though, where staying calm feels impossible – and watching Mark be all over Jaemin with no way of intervening is one of them.

Rationally, of course, Jeno knows being jealous is silly and being so possessive isn't a particularly attractive trait. But something about seeing Mark lay his head on Jaemin's shoulder for what feels like the hundredth time has all logical thought flying out of Jeno's brain.

He tries not to make his feelings obvious afterwards, continues to laugh and smile and talk to everyone as he normally does. It isn't too difficult, either, because he loves both Jaemin and Mark too much to not let it go. And of course, Mark has no way of knowing why what he did was so upsetting to Jeno anyway, so Jeno can't even hold it against him without feeling guilty.

Still, once he's in their shared room that night, Jeno wordlessly climbs into Jaemin's bed to wrap himself around Jaemin and hold him close, Jeno's front pressed against Jaemin's back and his head tucked into Jaemin's shoulder. It feels like Jaemin can tell something is wrong, because the atmosphere in the room is unusually tense.

For a while, they both just lie there, not speaking, and Jeno starts to wonder if they're going to fall asleep with this tension still lingering between them. It's never happened before, and he finds that he hates the thought of it.

The fact is, the two of them have known each other for too long to let bad communication make things awkward between them, so Jeno finally decides to suck it up and speak. "Nana," he says quietly, his voice muffled by Jaemin's shirt. "I...didn't like what happened today."

Jaemin sighs, a tiny little thing that Jeno wouldn't have caught if he didn't literally have Jaemin in his arms. "I know you didn't," he says. "I mean, I love Mark-hyung. And I love when he's affectionate. But I saw the footage afterwards, and...and Jeno-yah, your face was just –"

"I know," Jeno says, cutting Jaemin off because he doesn't think he can handle hearing about how repulsive Jaemin finds Jeno's obvious possessiveness. "I know, I should have controlled myself better."

"What? No!" Jaemin says, shifting away from Jeno slightly and turning in his arms so they're facing each other. "No, I was going to say that it kind of broke my heart, silly."

"Huh?" Jeno blinks at him a few times.

"Jeno-yah," Jaemin says, the corners of his mouth pulling upwards, "you looked like a kicked puppy. Like you just suffered the biggest betrayal of your life. Of course it made me feel terrible."

Jeno feels even more guilty now – the last thing he wants is to make Jaemin feel responsible for his own twisted jealousy when it wasn't even Jaemin's fault. "Sorry," he mumbles, suddenly unable to meet Jaemin's eyes. "Jaemin-ah, you know I would never – I mean, I know you love affection from all the members. I don't...distrust you or anything."

Jaemin starts smiling for real at that, which has Jeno experiencing both the desire to kiss him and sheer bafflement at the unexpected reaction. "You are so..." Jaemin reaches out and gently pulls Jeno's chin up so he can see that Jaemin's eyes are soft and fond. "I know you don't, Jeno. You're the sweetest, most understanding man in the world. You could never."

Jeno immediately relaxes. "As long as you know it."

"I don't mind you getting jealous, you know," Jaemin says matter-of-factly. "God knows I get jealous constantly."

"Do you?" Jeno asks, genuinely curious. Jaemin has alluded to it in the past, of course, but only on camera – and it's always hard to tell how much of that is a performance and how much is real.

"Of course," Jaemin says easily. "I get jealous when I see you with Mark-hyung, with Jisungie, with Doyoung-hyung with Renjun, with Taeyong-hyung, with Donghyuck, with Ten-hyung, with Chenle, with Jaehyun-hyung, with Donghae-hyung –"

"That's just...you're just listing every person I know," Jeno says, bewildered.

Jaemin smiles sheepishly. "Exactly," he says. "I think I'm better at hiding it than you are but...you aren't the only one who gets possessive. In fact, you could really stand to be more jealous sometimes."

"Uh," Jeno says, again taken aback by the turn that this conversation has taken.

"I mean, Mark-hyung was all over me," Jaemin says coyly, moving a little closer to Jeno. Their faces are only centimeters apart now, and Jeno swallows. "He had his head on my shoulder and he hugged me and I nuzzled his neck –"

Jaemin is intentionally riling him up. Jeno knows he's doing it on purpose, and he still falls for it. "Stop" he growls and pulls Jaemin in for a sloppy kiss. Jaemin makes a happy sound that gets muffled in Jeno's mouth as he returns the kiss eagerly.

When they pull apart several long moments later, Jaemin has a dazed look in his eyes that Jeno is inordinately pleased to have put there. "That's what I was waiting for," Jaemin murmurs, his eyelashes fluttering. "I really think you should stake your claim even more."

And who is Jeno to deny Jaemin what he so clearly wants? "Okay," Jeno says, tightening his hold on Jaemin and letting some of his innermost thoughts out. "Then I'm going to leave one mark on your body for every time I had to watch Mark-hyung touch you." Jaemin looks like he's going to say something, but Jeno thinks he can guess what it is and addresses it first. "Actually, you know what? I don't think that's enough, not to teach everyone to keep their hands off you."

"So you'll give me more than that?" Jaemin asks, looking excited at the very prospect of it.

"We'll start with three for each time," Jeno says, pausing to kiss Jaemin deeply and getting momentarily lost in it. Jaemin chases after his lips when he pulls away, and Jeno smirks. "We'll see if you've earned more by the time I'm done."

Much later, when they're both sated and Jeno has finished kissing every single mark he's left on Jaemin's skin, Jeno wraps his arms around Jaemin again as Jaemin nuzzles into Jeno's neck contentedly.

"Jeno-yah," Jaemin mumbles sleepily, kissing Jeno's neck subconsciously. "Next time I'll mark you all over, okay? So everyone knows you're mine too."

Jeno smiles and kisses Jaemin's temple. He likes the sound of that a lot. "Okay, Nana. Whatever you want."

#writing #nomin #nct #i always get inspired by the irl stuff as you all know !

[goldencuffs]

the tape

tw: a sex tape is filmed and released without consent.

Damen didn’t expect to wake up on Wednesday morning to the headline: Famous Football Player Caught in Tantalising SEX SCANDAL, Scroll for Video — but, well. He sort of knew it was a possibility.

 Julius had been a sweet little thing at Ernesta, the club Damen and his teammates frequented after a game or a training session or anything, really. Damen had caught sight of Julius’ blonde hair under the strobe lights, and had made his way over, tipsy and light, and just horny enough that he could last a full conversation with minimal wandering hands.

 Julius had been a ‘huge fan’ and pretty enough that Damen neglected his one rule: which was to never hook up with fans. They’d made it to Damen’s penthouse within half an hour, and Julius must have set up his phone to record them when Damen went to the bathroom after the first round.

It had honestly been the most average sex of Damen’s life — which was the only reason why he had been upset that Julius had leaked the tape at all. Damen hadn’t even tried very hard to make Julius cum, and he’d still been mostly hard throughout it all, his own release unsatisfactory.

 When he tried to explain this to Laurent later that day, during lunch at their favourite brunch place, Laurent’s face twitched. He looked furious, and then upset, and then both those expressions slowly absolved, until his expression was a flat, distant thing that unsettled Damen.

 In fact, it unsettled Damen so much, he began talking, without quite meaning to, “I just wish he’d told me he was going to film a whole tape, you know? That way I could have busted better moves. Or, made suggestions with the lighting or something. Look here — my entire body is blurry, so it’s like, what’s the point? What the fuck are we supposed to be looking at?”

 From his phone, Julius’ breathless voice panted, “Yes, harder, oh you’re so good for me.”

 It wasn’t loud enough to be heard by the other patrons in the cafe, but Laurent put his knife and fork down and hissed, “Will. You. Put. That. Away.”

 Damen did, swallowing. For the first time since he had read the article, seen the tape, and responded to the dozen or so text messages from friends about the tape, he felt embarrassment.

 Laurent wasn’t looking at him anymore. His eyes slid away, to the busy road outside, his mouth turned.

 Damen turned back to his food. Neither of them said anything else for the rest of their meal.

 *

 Damen genuinely didn’t mind the release of the tape. Julius had wanted his fifteen minutes of fame; Damen had wanted a lay — it was a win-win situation.

 No one else cared too much about it either; his teammates made sly jokes about it in the locker room, Makedon slapped him on the back with a shake of his head, and even Kastor let it slide.

 But there was one thing that did bother Damen — and it was that the love of his life, the man of his dreams, his soulmate, Laurent, was ignoring him.

Laurent had been downright hostile any time someone mentioned it; he’d eviscerated Nikandros verbally during dinner when Nikandros had made a joke about it, and he refused to look Damen in the eye.

 That was the worst part, thought Damen. Laurent was now skittish around him, like the thought of being around Damen too much nauseated him.

 He’d always known Laurent was reserved when it came to sex. He made jokes about it, talked about it as much as a healthy, twenty-seven-year-old man did, but it was never on a personal scale. When it came to Laurent’s own sex life, he was always tight lipped, even though sometimes Damen wanted to know, purely on a masochistic level. It honestly killed Damen when Laurent came in last summer to review his legal contract, briefcase in hand, and a bright red hickey on the white spot beneath his ear. It was the first time Damen had thought he might kill someone — rather violently, too.

 So, that was one of the reasons Damen used to justify Laurent’s behaviour. He was probably embarrassed about seeing… so much of his best friend. Damen wouldn’t have minded seeing Laurent naked, but that was only because he had been in love with Laurent for the last four years now.

 The second reason was that Laurent was so disgusted by Damen he didn’t want to be friends anymore.

 Damen didn’t like thinking about the second reason — so he didn’t.

 *

 A week after the tape, Damen invited Laurent over to dinner, at his family home. Theomedes was obsessed with Laurent, which Damen understood wholeheartedly; he was constantly wondering why more people didn’t fall in love with Laurent three seconds into meeting him.

 At first, it had seemed like Laurent might refuse. He was doing that a lot lately: skipping plans, cancelling so last-minute Damen couldn’t cajole him to reconsider, or in most cases, just flat out saying no.

 It seemed like today, the latter would be the possibility, so Damen said, panicked, “Please. I’ll make your favourite dessert.”

 Laurent perked a little at that. “Really?”

 “Yes!” Damen said, perhaps a little too aggressively, but it had Laurent nodding, a quick, stilted movement.

 Damen ruined the first three batches of chocolate mousse, but the fourth was decent, and the fifth was a bit better than that, so he went with it.

 Laurent arrived at seven sharp, straight from work. He had his favourite suit on, the charcoal wool suit that made everyone realise that Laurent was about ninety percent leg, and he was wearing the bright, spotty tie Theomedes had gifted Laurent about three Christmases ago.

He was so beautiful, Damen’s chest hurt. “Hi,” he said breathlessly, unexpectedly shy.

 Laurent’s gaze was unimpressed. His mouth did something strange; it compressed in on itself, until it sat in a straight line, and his eyes hovered over Damen’s shoulder.

 “You have something on your face,” he said.

 Damen tried a smile. “Well, get it off for me then, sweetheart.”

 He leant forward, very desperate suddenly for Laurent's touch, which in the past, Laurent had been very generous about.

 Laurent shoved the wine bottle he was holding into Damen’s stomach. Damen stepped back with a surprised oof, fumbling to catch it, and Laurent made his way past him, into the kitchen to talk to Theomedes.

 Damen stared after him, at a complete loss.

 He sulked in the bathroom for a while, and only came out when he was sure he could no longer avoid his father’s calls anymore.

 Laurent wasn’t looking at him when Damen returned, but he didn’t shuffle away as Damen took his usual seat beside him.

 Dinner was so pleasant, Damen almost forgot about how strange Laurent had been acting. Even Laurent had loosened, and he gave his first proper smile to Damen in a whole week when he tasted the mousse. It was a small smile, but Damen was going to remember it for the rest of his life, since they were so rare now, apparently.

 Of course, just as Laurent had completely relaxed, Theomedes said, “Do you think we’d have a case if Damen were to sue the tabloids and the man in the tape?”

 Laurent stiffened so much it was like he’d been propped up by invisible string. His shoulders tensed and pulled back, and his back was so straight Damen was sure he could run a smooth line down it.

 Haltingly, Laurent said, “I — don’t. I’m not quite sure.”

 “Why not?” Theomedes said.

 Damen said, “Dad. I’m not going to sue. He was just a dumb kid.”

 Laurent seemed to stiffen further at that.

 Theomedes frowned. “But surely —”

 “I’ll ask someone at the firm for you, sir,” Laurent said, in a polite, contrite tone that wasn’t like him at all. “I only deal with sports law so I — I’d have to ask.”

 That settled Theomedes. Damen relaxed a little too, until Laurent pushed away his dessert, despite having more than half of it left.

 It was such a depressing thing to see, Damen couldn’t finish the rest of his either.

 *

 With how jumpy Laurent was, Damen expected him to leave straight after their plates were cleared, but Laurent lingered, drinking his wine, and talking to Theomedes about the Lions chances of winning this season.

 Damen barely listened. He was upset, and his stomach had been rolling tumultuously for the last hour.

 He excused himself to his bedroom and sat on his small, single bed for a few moments, feeling sorry for himself.

 When that didn’t make him feel better, Damen went to his desk and pulled out a well-read book. Book was perhaps an overstatement; it was a small collection of poetry Laurent had written for him a year after they met. He had handed it to Damen after his birthday party, when everyone had left, and they could have some privacy.

 “You don’t have to read it,” Laurent had said, bashful, when Damen had paused in stunned silence. That was when Damen knew — and over the years that feeling had only solidified.

 The binding hadn’t been the best, so Damen had rebound it himself. Along the way he’d marked a lot of the poems too. The love poems were a source of both serenity and torture, since Damen daydreamed that Laurent had written about making love in moonlit sheets about him, but.

 He was surprised when there was a hesitant knock on his door. Laurent peeked his head through, and then he was stepping inside, wine glass topped up and his tie loosened.

 Damen’s heart lurched.

 “What are you doing?” Laurent asked, and the wine must have made him forget that he was mad at Damen, because he sounded curious, joyful.

 Damen gestured to the curling cover of Laurent’s book. Laurent flushed heavily, the colour vining his cheeks and neck and ears.

 “You kept that?”

 “Of course I did,” Damen said, affronted.

 “They’re terrible,” Laurent said, shaking his head, still red. “I don’t think I’ve even read enough poetry to justify writing so many.”

 “They’re wonderful. See.” Damen flicked through the pages and showed Laurent all his markings, scribbling along the columns of Laurent’s poetry.

 Laurent watched with hungry eyes. But he said, “Oh, Damen,” with so much sadness, Damen went, instinctively, to touch his shoulder.

 “Hey,” he said, unsure.

 Laurent stepped away from his grip, but he sat on the edge of the bed, facing Damen.

 “What is it?” Damen asked, because Laurent’s face was pale, haunted.

 “Nothing,” Laurent said, attempting a small smile.

 Damen tried to return it but couldn’t.

 They sat in awkward silence for a while — which was foreign, between them. Damen talked enough for four people at a time, and Laurent, though he said otherwise, liked that.

 Eventually, Damen said, “You’re coming to Nikandros’ party on Saturday, yeah?”

 “Oh,” Laurent said, surprised. He blinked. “This Saturday?”

 “Yeah,” Damen said, his stomach knotting when he realised Laurent was most probably going to say no.

 It was worse than that. “Ah, shit, I’d completely forgotten…” Laurent trailed off. “I didn’t realise when I — I have plans.”

 “What plans?” Damen frowned, because Laurent had approximately three friends, including him, and they were all going to Nikandros’.

 Laurent flushed again, a finger tracing the rim of his glass. “Armand from work — do you remember? I mentioned him a few times at — anyway. He. He asked me on a date and I said yes.”

 “Oh,” Damen said, so flatly he didn’t think he had even made it sound like a word.

 “Yes,” Laurent said, flushing even more, not looking at Damen’s eyes. “We’re going to Charls. You’ve been there, haven’t you? Is it any good?”

 “Hmm,” said Damen.

 “Oh,” said Laurent, awkwardly. “That’s good.”

 He left ten minutes after that. Damen smashed a penholder.

 *

 The days leading up to Nikandros’ party were the worst of Damen’s life. It wasn’t as though Laurent hadn’t dated anyone for the last few years, but the fact that he was going on a date with Armand, rich, successful, handsome Armand, who cracked dry jokes and said things like, My supervisor would kill me if I said this but did you know… He was just so boring. Laurent could do way better.

 Nikandros’ party was, thankfully, a wonderful distraction. It was as raucous as ever, and the cacophony of noises prevented Damen from thinking too much. Damen drank, he danced, and he thought of flirting with Naos’ sister, but decided against it.

 He was on the alfresco, smoking, trying to ignore the couple in the corner who were three seconds away from having sex, when Laurent opened the sliding doors.

 Damen was so surprised, he almost dropped his cigarette. Then he tried not to get his hopes up. He was either so drunk he was hallucinating, even though it had never happened before, or Laurent had ditched Charls to bring himself and Armand here.

 Laurent was drunk, or at least getting there. When he saw Damen, he smiled wide, his teeth showing.

 Damen swallowed, eyes following Laurent as he made his way over. Laurent surprised him even more; he sat close to Damen, until their thighs touched and rested his head on Damen’s shoulder.

 “Hey,” said Damen, his heart racing, confused and hopeful all at once.

 Laurent propped his chin on Damen’s shoulder. “Hello,” he said softly.

 Damen’s mouth was dry. Laurent plucked Damen’s cigarette from his fingers and placed it in his own mouth.

 Damen asked, “Armand?”

 Laurent exhaled. “He was a dick. And not in the nice, sexy way.”

 “There’s a nice, sexy way?” Damen said, amused and relieved.

 “There can be,” Laurent said, handing the cigarette back to Damen.

 They shared Damen’s cigarette for a while, fingers brushing up against each other. Laurent was still on his shoulder, and this was so achingly familiar, Damen had been afraid he’d lost it forever.

 A few moments later, Damen asked, “Was he a jerk to you, Laurent?”

 “Not really,” Laurent said.

 “Good,” said Damen.

 Laurent propped his chin on Damen’s shoulder again. “What would you do if I said yes?”

 Damen said, too seriously, “I’d kill him.”

 Laurent’s breath caught. His eyes searched Damen’s face, and Damen tried valiantly to keep his expression as neutral as he could.

 Laurent pulled back. His eyes flickered to the ground, then to Damen, and then away. “I should probably go. I have a huge headache.”

 “Okay,” said Damen.

 Laurent squeezed his hand quickly, then dropped it. He made to leave the alfresco, his movements unhurried, a little disjointed.

 At the doors, he paused. Damen saw him hesitate, and then Laurent turned around and asked, “Are you free tomorrow?”

 “Yeah,” said Damen, even though he had promised Kastor they’d have lunch together.

 Laurent nodded. “Good. Come over for dinner. I’ll make lasagna.”

 “Sure,” said Damen, now smiling so wide his cheeks hurt.

 Laurent smiled too. “See you,” he said, before he stepped through the doors, into the crowd.

 Damen watched him go, his heart settled and his smile only widening.

#captive prince #damen x laurent #im very sorry anon i know this is MONTHS late #and i barely mentioned their careers lol #thank you for reading anyway!! #my writing #my fic

[everlastingdreams]

Weeping Monk x Reader : Playing With Fire         chapter 24

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Story Summary:  The Huntsman, that is what they called your brother. A name he had earned by hunting down the fey for coin. Coin that is given by Father Carden for his services. You refuse to stand aside and watch how your brother hunts down those who are fey. When you start to warn the fey camps your brother wishes to attack, you find yourself behind enemy lines. But when the Weeping Monk becomes suspicious of you, you realise you are playing with fire.

Chapter Summary:  You finally arrive at the safe place but when you step out out of the tunnels it appears it isn’t exactly safe for Lancelot to do so as well.

Notes: A little late, sorry. Reusing my gifs because I am truly to tired to make another tbh. Let me know what you think, please.

Warnings:  None in this one.

Word count: 2274 words in this chapter.

Chapter:  24/ 33+ something

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The boy was adamant not to let you out of his sight as you travelled through the tunnels. Lancelot followed close behind the two of you, his hand resting on his sword constantly. Then the scent reached his nostrils and with each step the scent grew stronger.

You were nearing the exit of the tunnels, you could see the sun illuminating the last bit ahead.

“Y/n.” Lancelot called out to you and you turned around to look at him.

“There are people up ahead. Fey kind.” He sounded nervous.

You knew he expected there to be trouble, the fey would not be happy to see him in their sanctuary.

“I'll go first !” The boy stated.

“I'll go with you.” You quickly said, before the boy would run off on his own. Then you turned to Lancelot “Stay behind me. Some people there will recognise me from when I... warned them. Let me talk to them first.”

He balanced his weight on his other leg, clearly not at ease with the situation now. He gave an affirmative nod.

You took a deep breath, placing a hand on Percival's shoulder as you walked forward out of the tunnels and into the sunlight.

Luckily you had told Lancelot to stay behind you because the second you stepped out of those tunnels, archers jumped to their feet and took aim. They were clearly not expecting to see someone there that moment. But they had been on the lookout. You were suprised to see that you were once again standing in a forest, the large rock formations that reached the sky succesfully embraced this place. Hiding it from the world outside from which you came. A world hidden from the other. Other people were approaching now as well until there was a small crowd.

Lancelot set one step outside as well but you quickly stepped in front of him when you saw the archers react to the sight of him.

You could hear them whisper his previous title to one another. They had recognised him instantly. The boy was a few steps ahead of you and stopped when he saw the archers and the others who drew their weapons. You suddenly felt Lancelot trying to move you but you refused to move.

“Y/n, get behind me before one of those arrows hits you!” He hissed at your defiance.

You spoke lowly so only he would hear “Not happening! If I move they will kill you.” 

Then you felt him grab hold of the back of your jacket but you quickly slapped his hand away and glared at him “Don't even try to pull me away.”

He really disliked you doing that, his jaw was tense, his eyes focused on the people ahead. Then a familiar face came forward past the others and you smiled widely when you saw who it was. You had not seen her in months, but she did not look happy with the reunion when her eyes went to Lancelot.

"Nyra..." You greeted her nervously. She was one of those people who looked intimidating but under her hard exterior she had a good heart. You had met her before, she had been leading one of the fey camps you had first helped. It appeared she was leading this place as well as the other people looked at her for instructions. Her eyes fell on the boy who looked at her with wide eyes, her armor and her markings on her body must have caused that reaction. She had once told you that each marking stood for a paladin she had killed and you did not doubt her explanation. She turned her attention to you "Y/n.. it is good to see you." she tilted her head, a polite greeting and then turned her attention on Lancelot "I cannot say the same for him. Why have you brought the Weeping Monk here, y/n ?" You saw how Lancelot cast his eyes to the ground at the mention of his previous title before focusing on the archers again. It wasn't easy shielding him from the arrows aimed at him but you still tried your best "I know that what I am about to ask of you is a big favor." Her eyes narrowed, silently guessing what you were about to ask of her. You took a deep breath, readying yourself "Back when I helped your camp escape my brother, you told me that if I ever needed help, you would help me. I never wanted to take you up on that offer but I fear I have no other choice. The three of us are seeking refugee." "I said I would help you, y/n. Not the Weeping Monk." She reminded you, looking at Lancelot with great suspicion and a hint of fear. "If you send him away, I will not stay here either. This man..." You looked at him over your shoulder before turning back to Nyra "...Lancelot saved my life. He saved Percival's life."

You put a hand on the boy's back "The Huntsman is dead. And if Lancelot had not helped me, my brother would have killed me. And he would have sold the boy to the Red Paladins." Nyra raised a brow and her eyes widened in suprise "The Huntsman is dead ? He killed the Huntsman ?" You swallowed thickly, thinking back to what you had faced in the tunnels "My brother found out that I was helping the fey and that Lancelot had helped us escape the paladin camp. He... threatened my life. Lancelot fought him... but I killed him.." Nyra was thinking about your words. You could see her deciding about his fate, about your fate. "Did he suffer ?" She asked you expectantly. You furrowed your brow but understood why she had asked, your brother had done terrible things to the fey. "For a couple of minutes, before y/n..." Lancelot answered the question for you. And it was audible that he sounded pleased with that fact.

She had noticed how pleased he sounded that the Huntsman had at least suffered at his hands. "And now you've come here to seek sanctuary among us, the three of you ?" She asked for clarification. Lancelot could see Nyra's hesitation and knew it was because you insisted that he would be allowed to stay as well. This would be the perfect place for you and the boy to stay, man-blood would never be able to pass through the tunnels safely. No paladin would set foot here, no one of the church would. He couldn't let you give up your place here only because they wouldn't welcome him here. And as much as he hated to do this, he had to let you go. You felt Lancelot touch your arm and turn you just a little, he leaned towards you to talk to you "Do not refuse their offer if they offer only you and the boy sanctuary here." You scoffed and spoke just loud enough for him to hear "Oh, so now you would leave me alone ? Really ?" He was ready to protest until he picked up on the sad tone in your voice that you had tried to hide under the sarcasm. "Y/n, you and the boy will be safe here." He felt as if he was trying to convince himself along with you. "Is that really what you want ?" The sarcasm was gone, and the sad undertone that you had tried to hide was clearly audible now. He fell silent and swallowed. Weeks ago you had made it very clear that you wanted him to leave you alone, and now you sounded upset at the idea of him leaving. "If you're not staying, I'm not staying either." Percival suddenly said with a look of determination in his eyes. His eyes snapped to the boy "Percival-" The boy got visibly upset "What ? What are they going to do, keep me locked up ? I'll go back through those tunnels, you're not going to get rid of me just like that ! The Green Knight believed in you, he wouldn't want you to go. You're one of us !" Nyra quickly spoke, shocked at the news "The Green Knight ? YOU are fey ?" She sounded like she did not believe it so you reacted by picking a leaf up from the ground and taking Lancelot's hand before he realised what you were doing. You held the leaf against his skin and the pattern of leaves started to cover his whole hand. Those close enough to see, gasped at the sight. Nyra's eyes went to you now "How ?" "It's a long story, Nyra. The Green Knight told him that all fey are brothers, even the lost ones. He is not lost, Nyra. He is here now, with his people. Not with those who raised him to believe he is a manifestation of evil." You saw her falter as she thought about your words "Please, Nyra. Gawain had faith in him. I have faith in him. Your people need him. The fey need everyone they can get." Finally Nyra gave a quick nod "I will allow it. See this as my way of repaying you for saving our people." You breathed in relief at her answer, forgetting that you were still holding Lancelot's hand with yours.

“But if I believe him to be a threat, I will not show mercy.” Nyra warned, looking you in the eyes. She was serious.

“I mean you no harm, nor anyone else here.” Lancelot replied truthfully to her warning.

You looked at him for a second and only then you let go off his hand when you realised you were still holding it with yours.

She looked him up and down with doubt before she beckoned for the three of you to follow her, the people stepped aside as you walked past them.

You followed her through the forest “Where are we going ?”

Nyra actually smiled at that question “I am showing you the way to your new home. It is not far.”

“How do you two know each other ?” Lancelot kept his distance from Nyra, not wanting her to feel threatened any more then she perhaps already was.

She didn't look at him as she answered his question “We met one night when y/n came to warn my camp. The rain was ruthless that night, she was soaked to the bone when she arrived. I told her about this place while some of her clothes dried by the fire.”

Lancelot looked at you and you nodded, confirming that the story was true.

“Your camp ?” He was interested in that, especially after how you had always stubbornly refused to give any information about that.

“We had a camp in the South, the people from the camp in the North are here too.” Nyra explained.

He had found the camp in the South abandoned months ago, and now he knew why. Lancelot looked at you and went to walk closer beside you, he took hold of your arm, slowing you down a little to talk quietly so Nyra would not hear “The camp in the North ? The one I asked you about weeks ago, and you pretended you did not know what I was talking about ?”

“I have no idea what you're talking about.” You wanted to sound casual but failed when you saw his expression, you knew he didn't believe you.

He knew you were lying then and you were still trying to deny it. Lancelot wasn't angry about it, not at all. But he wanted you to admit that you had helped the fey in the North as well. He was curious just how many lives you had saved like this. He gently pulled your arm, making you walk closer to him.

You rolled your eyes, you knew he wasn't going to let this topic go just yet “What ?”

Then he leaned in close to your ear so Nyra would not hear “Did you warn the camp in the North, y/n ?”

You had felt his breath brush past your ear and for a moment you forgot how to form words.

He was waiting for your answer unaware of how flustered you felt now. He leaned in to whisper again but you quickly responded.

“Yes. Alright, I warned the camp in the North. What did you expect ?” You tripped over your words as you spoke hastily.

“That was what I expected all along.” He deadpanned.

You glared at him “Then why keep asking me ?”

Lancelot let out a chuckle, smirking at you “I wanted you to admit it.”

You groaned, hating how pleased he looked now. Like he had won a game.

“How are you feeling ? If you are in pain I can-” He send you a look of concern

“You're not putting me on the horse again, Lancelot.” You would rather walk then end up in another awkward situation.

He let out an audible breath, sounding defeated.

Nyra was looking at the two of you curiously before turning to the boy and discreetly asking him “Do they always act like this around each other ?”

Percival first looked in your direction before looking up at Nyra confused “Like what ?”

Nyra's curiousity grew the longer she watched you and Lancelot interact, she looked down to answer the boy “Like they are in-”

“Is that where we will live now ?” The boy interrupted her as he pointed to the houses up ahead.

She was not given another chance to finish her sentence “Yes.”

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#weeping monk x reader #weeping monk x you #lancelot x reader #lancelot x you #the weeping monk #weeping monk #cursed weeping monk #cursed #cursed netflix #cursed lancelot #cursed percival

[sloppy-butcher]

Jealous David king and jake park headcannons I demand of you (in the least demanding way possible uwu) 🥺❤️

haha don’t you worry anon. i got you owo. thank you for the ask and thank you for waiting for so long <3 hope these are good enough for you <333

its kinda nsfw? its only kissing but like.. yknow..

Headcanons for Jealous! David King and Jake Park

David King

Don’t let this guy's tough exterior fool you, deep down inside he is really a sensitive fellow. You can tell when his mood shifts merely, by the way, he looks at you or by the way his hands flexes on your knee. He has a keen sense of all others around you, watching like a hawk for any signs of trouble or danger even if you were only surrounded by friends. He acts broody and unbothered - he has to when considering what labels life has put on his because of the masculine physique, but truly, he is smart and knows when your graze lingers on another for a suspicious amount of time.

David is naturally friends with all other survivors - he’s the dedicated bodyguard. An intrinsic desire to protect those weaker than him (which happens to include almost every other survivor) drives David to befriend all other survivors and instinctively they flock to him. He is safety, he is light and all things good. So when David notices that you start to hang around another person more than you would with him, laughing more and touching their shoulder as you talked, it takes a lot for him to get angry. Sure, his chest puffs out and he marches over to you, draping his beefy arm over your body and leaning into your conversation, but he never actively pushes the other person away or even throws them a glare. He hopes that through these simple gestures you will understand what he is so upset about.

If by some miracle, you do not pick up on his souring mood, David would shift his tactics into overdrive. He’s a big guy and he knows it and he certainly knows how to use it. When next you are in a trial with him and the other survivor in question, David arrives shirtless. You lose blood at the sight alone, feeling weak in the knees and light-headed. He was heavenly, glowing in pride, and god-like beauty. He was foolishly brave for exposing himself in such an indecent (but not unappreciated) manner, and you made sure to scold him every chance you got. “Why are you doing this?” You whisper-shout at him from the other side of a gen. David shrugs, passing a cool eye over the third party member who shuddered under his gaze. He stretched his chest and tensed his arms accentuating the glorious muscle. “No reason.”

He would become overly-protective of you to the point that it was self-damaging. He’d throw himself recklessly between you and the killer, going in for risky hook saves without a care for the killer's whereabouts. It was you he only cared about - only you. He had just unhooked you from your second stage and had led you to the corner of the area to heal. Though your clothes grew red with blood, you bit back the whimpers of pain and instead looked up at the man you loved. You knew something was wrong. “David,” You called, a small hand reaching up and cupping his bruised face gently. At your touch, he softened and hummed, leaning into your palm, seeking your comfort and warmth. “Why are you acting like this?” For a moment he debated where to ignore your question or not. But at the look in your eye, the desperately sweet and tender embrace of compassion, he relented and sighed, feeling horrid guilt crawl up his spine like sickening spiders. “You do love me, right?” He asked, attention downcast. Had you not trying to be quiet you would have gasped in disbelief. “David, of course! A thousand times, of course! How could I ever love anyone else when you exist?” You lift your other hand to his face and careful brush back stray strands of brown hair. Still, he refuses to look at you. Of course, you loved him. Yet he still allowed himself to doubt you - he felt ashamed. You lean forward and press your forehead to his, trying with all your might to radiate your love for the stupid man. After a moment he smiles and finally brings his eyes up to yours - they were filled with tears.

“Oh, my love.” You coo closing the distance and kissing him tenderly. He gives in to you, pushing back with force restricted, he had much more to give you but restrained himself and allowed you to lead. A large hand finds its way up to your back and offers you structure as the embrace deepens, tongues flickering about and dancing in each other's mouths. David feels heat replace shame and love replace jealousy. There was no way this was not real love for if it was then you were the greatest actor in all the world. After a few minutes, you break apart, a trail of saliva connecting your two lips. He's panting hard, trying to remain aware enough to hear you speak. At this point, he wanted nothing more than to bury himself in you, bleed into your love like how the sun breaks the evening sky. “I should get you jealous more often,” You hum, feeling him chuckle in response.

Jake Park  

Jake is a most peculiar case. He acts aloof, floating above all other humans and their mortal troubles in an untouchable manner. To be jealous of another person is a complete waste of energy and time for him. He looks down at melodrama and scoffs at things so simple. But if you can get Jake to open up, to get him to take you in and love you, then his whole previous attitude changes.

Jake is never overly clingy, never the first to initiate any form of physical affection - in front of other people that is. In the quiet woods when the only eyes are yours and his, he reaches for you like a child with fingers twitching and expression desperate. Do not shun him away and he will bloom under your light. He is a thirsty man, always in need of your watering embrace. While you are in the presence of other people, however, Jake is more reversed, only ever standing near you and only occasionally holding your hand. He watches you constantly and notices immediately when your gaze shifts to another survivor and stays there for much longer than his liking.

He wouldn’t call it being jealous - it’s more like he’s being overprotective. If you are found sitting alone at the campfire, he practically sprints over and sits beside you without a word or a look. If you are on-hook, he will drop all previous activities to travel across the realm to save you before anyone else has the chance. It is sweet and enduring, to be doted upon so totally and devotedly, but you start to realize his true intentions when one day you catch the look he gives the other survivors.

Never had you seen such a dark expression on your man before, the lines around his gentle hazel eyes growing incredibly heavy and dirty. He glares pure poison at anyone near you, spitting at them with nothing but a mere downward twitch on his mouth. The others would react violently, hands raising up in a defenseless gesture as they backed away from you and your fuming partner. You’d feel pressure on your shoulder and looking over you’d see Jake pushing himself into you, his attention following the retreating survivor. Jake was digging a trench between himself and the others, isolating himself in the saddest and heartbreaking manner.

“Why are you so angry, Jake? What has happened to you?” You ask him one evening while the two of you sit alone in a forest clearing, earning nothing but a soft ‘hmm’ from the man as his hands worked masterfully on repairing his toolbox. You sigh and shuffle closer, knowing full well that he could not deny you if he felt you so near him. He visibly stiffens as your hand overlaps his, fingers snaking into his own. “I have never seen you so angry before. Has anyone hurt you? Want me to go beat them up?” He laughs at your suggestion, finally relenting to your advances and passing you a soft side-eye. At the comfort of your furrowed brow, Jake felt his jealous boil and seethe and eventually soothe - you were so calm and understanding and he felt terrible for harboring such negative emotions.

“I have seen how you look at the other survivor. How you... long for them.” Jake falls despondent and quiet, retreating back into himself where nothing could hurt him, sinking down to a place where would he be safe. Just as the total blackness would threaten to take him all, you grabbed his hand and pulled his head out of the murky water.

“Jake. You are the only one for me. The others come and go but you,” You cup his cheek in your hand, “, are forever.” All the world leaves his body at your words and he leans into you. “You must stop shutting yourself away from everyone else,” You scolding tone failed as it barely had the strength to stand on its own as he distracted you with his expression and Jake closes his eyes and covers your hand with his gloved one. He moves it over his mouth and you feel him start to kiss your palm. You shiver at his butterfly touches. “I’m sorry.” He breathes in between kisses, talking directly into your skin. His other hand moves towards your head and suddenly he’s pulling you towards him, facing you completely. Gaining confidence he glides up your arm and to your eagerly offered neck. His lips are cold and there is hard stumble on his chin that tickles your sensitive neck wonderfully. You gasp as he bites down, teething you until he left a red, sore spot. He grins at your reaction. Jake then spends the next few minutes branding you with his mark, awarding your skin with the sign of his presence there. You were his alone and though you may wonder and gaze out the window at passers-by, you would always return to him.

#its himbo and feral hours #dbd imagine #dbd headcanons #dbd x reader #dbd david king #dbd david king x reader #dbd jake park #dbd jake park x reader

[plus-size-reader]

Jealousy pt.2

Geralt of Rivia x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 1338 words

Warnings: none 

Summary: The silent treatment gets to be too much for both the princess and the witcher.

——————————————————————————————————

Geralt couldn’t stop thinking about that night in the bar, staring at you as you waited for his answer. 

“What about you Witcher? Would you be a waste of my time?” 

It was quite the question, a question he couldn’t have answered if he wanted to but that wasn’t because there wasn’t an answer to give. It was that there was no good way to give it. 

Perhaps Geralt had felt something for you in that moment but as far as he was concerned, it was a moment of weakness. There was no way Geralt of Rivia truly cared for you. 

He knew that for certain. 

There was no way that he could go from despising you in one second to not being able to get you out of his head in the next. That had never happened to him before and he wasn’t about to let it right now. 

Instead, he simply chose to not acknowledge the comment at all. It was easier to ignore you entirely than to work out whatever it was he’d felt there, if anything at all. 

Not that it was easy considering the fact that he now had to listen to both you and Jaskier carrying on as you rode along the path. You were riding behind Geralt on Roach while the bard trailed along on foot and that couldn’t have been enough distance. 

Nothing would keep you two from laughing and joking at every turn...and to make it worse, Jaskier was now composing a song in your honor. 

At this point, It would be a miracle if you all made it to the next town without Geralt leaving one of you for dead in the woods. 

Now, Geralt was sure that if he buried that shred of something he felt for you deep down, he wouldn't have to deal with it anymore but that just wasn’t the case. 

It wasn’t the case because he wasn’t the only person who’d taken part in it. You knew just as well what the Witcher was doing, and while you weren’t sure if it was genuine or not, you knew it would be fun to play around a bit. 

Geralt was jealous.

You knew that much for sure, and while you had no clue what he was jealous over, you knew that it had something to do with Jaskier and that was enough. 

So, you had been playing it up since you realized and didn’t say anything in Geralt’s direction unless you absolutely had to. It was perfect, absolutely perfect

...For the first few days. 

However after that, you started to realize if maybe you had pushed the witcher too far. It had gotten to the point where he didn’t even look at you and it was starting to bother you. 

If you thought Geralt was bothersome before, you could have never imagined that having him not speaking to you would actually be worse. 

It was terrible, but you couldn’t help yourself. 

Maybe you had misread the signals that the witcher had given you in that bar, and he actually had no interest in any of you at all. After all, you hadn’t known each other for that long. 

You had never been around a witcher before, in all your life, and it was possible that maybe you just didn’t understand him as well as you thought you did. 

In any case, you had to figure out what he had going on if you were going to participate in this journey any farther. 

You waited until Jaskier had turned in for the night and then made your way over to where Geralt was waiting, sitting against a tree in the darkness. He didn’t sleep nearly as much as the rest of you did, so you knew where he’d be. 

Not that it made you any more confident in your approach as you walked over to him, the ground crunching slightly beneath your feet. 

“Good evening Princess” the comment came out of nowhere, startling you even though you knew where it was coming from. With his keen senses, Geralt couldn’t be snuck up on, but you couldn’t help but tense. 

That was the first thing he’d said to you in two days, and you were a little shocked at his strange use of your title. In some ways, it seemed more like an insult than anything. 

Though, it could have just been the way the word sounded rolling from his silver tongue.

“Hello witcher” you greeted, sitting down beside him in the grass without any care for the fabric of your skirt. Right now, it couldn’t have been further from your mind. 

As you sat, you felt as though you could feel your pulse as the blood hammered against your veins. You couldn’t think straight and you had no clue what was happening. 

Of all the people in all the realms that could have made you feel this way, why was this man the one who got you so flustered? There should have been nothing about him to intrigue you.

You had hated him all this time, cursing your father for making you leave your home in the company of such a buffoon but now you were mourning the words you’d once shared. 

No matter how unfriendly they may have been at the time. 

“Couldn’t sleep?” he wondered, trying to work out what you would be doing out of bed this late. After all, there was no reason for you to not get your beauty sleep knowing that you had two men looking after you. 

You didn’t have to worry about any sort of danger knowing the Witcher was here. 

If only he knew how much upset he had caused you in these last few days. 

You had gotten very little peace over him, wondering constantly over what it was that had gotten into him. Had you really been so bothersome to him that he couldn’t even look at you? 

It didn’t make any sense. 

“I guess not” you hummed, shrugging as best you could as you thought it over. You kept your eyes straight ahead, watching the way the stream glistened in the moonlight. 

It would have been beautiful if you weren’t in this current position. However, there was nothing you could do to rectify this situation without the cooperation of your traveling companion. 

“Is Jaskier not awake to entertain you?” he suggested, shocking you with his boldness. 

It was quite strange, all things considered, but not for the reason you may have thought. After all this time with him refusing to even speak to you, that was the first thing on his mind. 

Why would he care?

“He is not, though, why would I choose him when you’re so very entertaining yourself?” you jabbed, your tone sweet though your words dripped with venom. 

After all this time, the witcher was going to blame you for this, even though he had clearly initiated the entire event on his own. 

Geralt laughed, the deep sound under his breath though you couldn’t have misplaced it. This was the sort of thing he would have expected from you a few days prior but not right now. 

It felt like things had changed between the two of you.

“I just assumed you preferred his company” he allowed, thinking back to the flirty comments you two shared and all those little jokes that he wasn’t a part of. 

It just seemed to follow that you would choose him if given the choice between the two of them. 

“As strange as it is, my dear Witcher, I wouldn’t trade your company for anyone else's”

For you, it was a bit more of a confession than you had intended but neither you nor the witcher seemed to mind. In fact, it was only going to make it that much sweeter if and when you decided to be more open about the feelings you shared. 

Though, that may have taken a bit more time before either of you was ready for that. 

#the witcher #geralt #geralt of rivia #the witcher x reader #the witcher x ps reader #the witcher x plus size reader #the witcher imagine #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia imagine #geralt of rivia x ps reader #geralt of rivia x plus size reader

[ladynyctophilia]

Avoiding Red

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Mature Themes

Pairings: Vivienne Tang x MC (Rozario)

With the heist gone wrong, it all felt like a dream. I fell off of the helicopter with guns pointed at me in every direction, but somehow I was still shoved into an ambulance and rushed to a hospital for surgery.

At this point, I didn't know the difference between fantasy and reality. There was even this one night where I thought Vivienne was at the hospital with me, kissing my hand, but I knew that wasn't true. The Poppy should be laying low by now, probably in another country after all that heat we attracted in Paris. Again. 

I've been left with nothing but questions. Did I really join The Gilded Poppy? Was Vivienne Tang real? Or was I just waking up from a coma? However, whenever I moved, the gunshot wound on my lower abdomen, and the breaks in my ribs told me otherwise. My heart ached.

This is real. 

And every night I had to relive those same events in my dreams, but in my dreams I died on that rooftop. 

However, my thoughts were interrupted by the clicking of my room door opening. The nurse was probably back with this morning's pain medication. 

More pills to shove down my throat. Yay. 

But to my surprise, it wasn't the nurse, and I could feel my heart quickening as a short man dressed in a well-tailored suit that complemented his sun-kissed features entered the room. I tensed, ignoring the pain from my wound. This man wasn't a doctor or a nurse, and he didn't look lost either. That could only mean one thing. He stared at me, and I stared at him, but none of us gestured to speak. The man's hair was black as a starless night, even darker than Vivienne's, but his eyes were full of warmth. The green of his eyes reminded me of the emerald eyes of Vivienne's serpent ring, but unlike the color of envy, his gaze felt safe, and not like the cunning nature of the thieves and criminals I was acquainted with. I sighed. 

Vivienne...

However, a glint of light brought my attention to his chest, where a badge rested, flashing with justice. I didn't think about the police or anything like that when I was here. When I could think straight…

Ha. Straight. 

Shut up, Rozario.

...all I thought about was Vivienne and the look on her face when I let go. Did she really poison me? My heart wanted to deny any suspicion of betrayal in Vivienne, but my head knew better. Vivienne did have a past of lying and running away. She was a criminal after all, and I've been burned before. 

" Rozario Inmaculada Cruz," the man finally announced, waiting for my reaction. 

I winced at my full name that was weighed down by tradition and religion and stained by the memory of my father's stern voice, but other than that, he was getting no reaction out of me, and my eyes quickly narrowed. 

Excellent detective skills, Jimbo, you know my name. 

I didn't reply. To my surprise, his voice wasn't French; it was American, with a hint of something familiar. Very familiar. Spanish, but not from Spain. He was familiar to me, like a ghost. 

Sus. I was growing suspicious, but that didn't help the squeeze of anxiety in my guts. Technically, I was in France legally; I just wasn't doing legal things...my situation suddenly dawned on me. I was going back to America in chains and would probably be locked up for the rest of my life. I was terrified. Before it could begin, my life was over. I will never-

"Rozario," the man's deep voice called to me again," you don't have to talk," he hummed, with a hand scratching the stubble underneath his chin thoughtfully. A habit whenever he was thinking most likely. "Just pay attention, I don't have a lot of time here, and neither do you." I'm assuming that the detective was a very patient and reserved man, but my eyes lingered on his antique, probably handcrafted watch. 

Damn. I really have spent too much time around thieves. 

The detective noticed and cleared his throat, pulling down his sleeve." Rozario, I'm going to be blunt with you, you're fucked," he said with a shrug, taking off his glasses as if to see me better. "No matter what you do or say, you will end up in the slammer, but," he held up a finger, checking to see if I was still paying attention. "The number of years can be significantly reduced if you cooperate and help the French government and I catch these so-called members of The Gilded Poppy," the detective got right to the point with a casualness that I didn't associate cops with. It was like he didn't care, whatever my answer was, but there was a gleam in his pale eyes that told otherwise. 

He had a lousy poker face. Remy taught me the signs. I wanted to be stern, I wanted to be hard and cold, with no emotion, but there was a ball growing in my throat that I couldn't swallow. I was scared, but I couldn't give The Gilded Poppy away, could I? No. I quickly shook my head away from that thought as my eyes glistened with tears. 

Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry, don't cry...COME ON, ROZARIO!! 

I mentally slapped myself. 

Cry like a little bitch later, you can't cry in front of this man, or you will die a hundred deaths of shame. 

With that much needed mental pep talk, I lifted my chin up and locked eyes with the detective...cop whatever he was, and opened my mouth. 

"No, I will not help you, or anyone hunt down The Gilded Poppy," I declared firmly, trying to sound as emotionless as I could, but I came out more stubborn than I wanted. Both a blessing and a curse, hiding my emotions was never my strong suit. "So…" I looked away, trying to deflect whatever feelings from giving me away, "you are wasting your time, whoever you are." 

"Whoever I am?" The man raised a brow, pulling up a chair next to my bed to sit as if he was here to tell me my Abuela died. "Yes, I'm a private investigator that deals in foreign affairs, but I took your case because I know you, Rozario, from high school." 

WHAT???!!!! 

My panic was apparent, and whatever pathetic excuse of a mask I had on my face crumbled away, never to be rebuilt again. You would have thought I looked shocked. No, I was just sad, and it showed. I still wasn't quite sure who he was, but I believed him. Shit. 

"Now," the investigator spoke after waiting for a reply he never got. "It's been seven or eight years, but yes, we attended the same school in Florida, but I was a year below you. Thomas Parker," he hesitated, but continued, dropping his investigator persona for a slight second, glancing around the room as if someone was there. Still, no one was, and he whispered, bashfully while avoiding my gaze, "we were in the dance club together...." 

Tommy. Dance club. For a naive moment, all my worries had washed away, and my heart raced with excitement. It was like I had never left America and could recite the "old days" with Thomas and complain how terrible Mr. Jenkins was, but no, that wasn't the situation. He was an investigator, and I was now a thief...an art thief. The same coin, but different sides. "Tommy...Thomas," I finally said, savoring the taste of that familiar name, a name I knew as real and not fake. "Yes," I nodded, still avoiding his gaze shamefully. "I remember," outside of the dance club, I didn't know him well, but I knew that his mother was from Cuba like my parents were. However, he had grown into a completely different person. Puberty had really hit him like a truck because the Tommy I knew was shorter, hairless, and had the cutest chubby smile and carried around a deck of Magic The Gathering cards. He was adorable, but the Tommy that sat beside me wasn't that person anymore, now he was Thomas Parker, here to take me away for my crimes. 

His sigh brought my attention back to him, "what happened, Rozario? After high school?" For a second, he looked betrayed, and I was taken aback, still too stunned to conjure up any answers or explanations, "did you not have money?" He asked, but didn't wait for me to answer. "For a while, I assumed you were kidnapped and forced to do these crimes, but you definitely robbed that jewelry store on purpose. So, what happened?" He leaned back, now crossing his arms like a child would if they were pouting, but he just seemed...angry...and hurt. Why? He was only ever an acquaintance. "What happened to the girl who was constantly doodling in her sketchbook, with dreamy eyes and a contagious smile?"

"I...I…" I opened my mouth, ready with excuses, but the ball in my throat had grown too large for any words to be processed, and if it weren't for the wetness on my cheeks, I wouldn't have known I was crying. "A-adventure…" I finally whispered, not knowing if he heard.

Thomas's eye twitched at my answer, but seeing my upset state, he slipped back into his role as a private investigator and not Tommy from the high school dance club. "Your parents don't know, but they will," he said, pulling out a notepad and pencil from his pocket, "and you are looking at a thirty-year sentence, at least, when you return back to The States, but," he paused, clenching his jaw. "With good behavior, that sentence can be lowered to as short as a decade if you cooperate and help me put the rest of The Gilded Poppy behind bars. I know that the real Rozario would have never committed those crimes. Can't you see that they've tricked you?"

Thomas and I both knew that wasn't true, all those choices I made back then were mine alone, but it seemed as if he was trying to convince himself otherwise. I opened my mouth to speak, but he put a finger up to hush me. 

"Don't say anything," he asked, voice going soft, "I've seen cases like this many times before. A naive girl gets charmed by a few criminals, and then the said criminals offer to show the girl the world and offer them wealth, a life of excitement and freedom. The naive girl accepts, she does a few crimes and has fun, but when something goes wrong, the criminals escape as the naive girl gets arrested and framed for their crimes."

"They wouldn't do that to me," I blurted out, much louder than I had meant as my heart quickened on the verge of another panic attack.

Thomas shrugged, gesturing to the hospital room, "then why are you still here? You've been chained to that hospital bed for a week, and rumor has it that you were poisoned," he raised a brow, "and the last time I checked, french security guards don't poison burglars."

"No," I shook my head, still denying the possibility, but the deeper Thomas's words sunk into me, the more insecure I felt about the trust I had in The Poppy, and he was right. It didn't help that I had been betrayed and abandoned by Vivienne the first time I was in Paris...but that was before they really knew me. I was on a trial heist then, but honestly? I would have thought Vivienne would have gotten me out of the hospital by now….or at least given me a sign that The Poppy was here. Maybe they weren't coming back, and my heart sunk further, like a dying whale, panging with something I could only describe as regret. 

"Look," Thomas stood up, "whatever our past was, I'm here as an investigator, but I don't want to see you wilt away in prison when I know you don't belong there. We all make mistakes," he set down his notepad and pencil on my lap, "here, I know drawing puts your mind at ease." He gave me a small, sad smile before heading towards the door, "think about it, Rozario, you have twenty-four hours," and with those words said, Thomas left me alone with nothing but my thoughts and his notepad. 

I blinked, my eyes crusty and sore from crying. I didn't know what I was going to do. The thought of having to live a life in prison terrified me. I didn't want to betray The Poppy, but was it worth a life in prison? Maybe I could find a way to cooperate without The Poppy getting caught. 

Honor among thieves.

I snorted at that quote, beginning to sketch without even thinking. All I knew was that I was hurt, alone, scared, and depressed. I needed the embrace of a loved one more than ever.

Where had my life gone wrong? 

A few of my tears dampened the paper, and when I got a closer look, I could tell I was just drawing a woman with Vivienne's likeness. Vivienne. I wanted to burn hotter than coal with anger, but instead, my soul wept as I clutched the drawing to my chest. Despite it all, I missed her. 

There was a knock on my door, and I couldn't even compose myself properly before the nurse let herself in with a tray of today's breakfast. French hospitals put America's cafeteria food to shame, like always. Besides some language barriers, the hospital staff had been very kind, I owed them my life, but I was a mess right now and couldn't survive any more human interaction today. This experience had really brought out the introvert in me that I didn't even know was there, so I stayed silent, with my eyes on the notepad and flipped it to the next page, but instead of finding another blank page, there were words. 

You are a thief now, aren't you? Escape the hospital and head to the hardware store down the road. You have 24 hours.

I read over the words at least twenty times before they registered. Escape. I had to escape. Was Thomas helping me escape? Or was The Poppy here to rescue me? It seemed like an almost impossible task, but it gave me hope, and I looked over to my left hand, chained to the hospital bed. Thanks to Nikolai, I could pick that, quite easily, in fact with my other hand free. Child's play. My heart fluttered with anxiety, and I looked at the nurse, but she wasn't in the room. Huh. I didn't even hear her leave. Suddenly, a long, slender hand cupped the side of my face and turned my gaze to the body it was attached to, the nurse, Vivienne. When our eyes connected, the stars aligned, making my heart flutter and eyes glisten with equal amounts of disbelief and admiration. "You're another hallucination…" I whispered, sunken eyes dreamy as her thumb dragged slowly down my lips. 

"No," Vivienne shushed me with her lips, soft and flushed against mine, but she broke the kiss with a hiss before we could get lost, pressing her forehead against mine in promise. "A hallucination wouldn't burn the world for you." 

To be continued…

#vivienne tang #vivienne x mc #queen of thieves lovestruck #lovestruck voltage #nikolai stirling #fanfiction #HEIST GONE WRONG #angst #red

[diaphragmjellyfish]

Roast Me, Baby

Not my gif

Note: This is my first fic ever, so any feedback would be appreciated! 

Warnings: anxiety, panic attack, insults, sweet Rafe

Summary: Reader is a pogue and she and Rafe make fun of each other constantly. Like witty banter and roasting, and they act like they hate each other. Keyword- act. One night, the reader has had a terrible day and is having major anxiety, when Rafe finds her and unknowingly makes it worse. She goes into full-blown panic and he gets all soft and sweet and fluffy. 

Life as a Pogue was anything you could ever want. It was a simple life, full of adventure and fun. And your personal favorite activity, pissing of Kooks. Specifically, Rafe Cameron. You guys had a strange relationship full of constant roasting and acting like you want to kill each other. But you’d be lying if you said you didn’t look forward to the witty banter. It was a good way to let off steam, and he seemed to be the only person you’d ever met that could keep up and not take anything personally. And you’d bet money he felt the same way about you. 

It was a sunny day, late afternoon just before the sun went down and you were sitting on the docks near the Boneyard looking out at the ocean. You’d always loved sailing, and wanted to travel the world by boat one day if you could ever afford it. Suddenly you were interrupted from your fantasy by your nemesis himself. 

“Damn, someone should really pick up the trash around here. Get back to the dumpster, Pogue.” He said, smirking at you. 

You just rolled your eyes and laughed to yourself as you continued looking out at the water. Verbal battles with Rafe were sometimes your favorite part of the day. You turned around and noticed that his goons, Topper and Kelc, were with him. 

“Ya know, I heard a statistic that the hair product from you three alone accounts for over 90% of plastic in the ocean,” you quipped back. 

“Don’t push me troll. I might have to teach you some respect one of these days,” he challenged. 

Topper and Kelc looked annoyed, though they were used to Rafe doing this. He always talked about you, how much you got on his nerves, how you were a dirty pogue with no manners or morals. They started to walk away, knowing he’d follow. When they were a few steps away, he looked at you smiling and said,”Until next time, y/l/n.” He winked, and ran to catch up to his Neanderthal friends. 

As much as Rafe Cameron was your mortal enemy in life, you had to admit that some things he did just made your heart flutter. If he didn’t stop winking at you, you might just walk into the ocean to avoid the embarrassment of catching feelings for him. 

Encounters like this happened often, and you were always ready for them. Except for today. You woke up with a tight chest and a pounding heart. So it was going to be an anxiety day. Okay. You had to push through it like always. But the day only got worse. Work was an absolute nightmare. You were a waitress at a restaurant on Figure 8- Kook central. Your boss yelled at you for being 5 minutes late and not having your hair up, someone let their toddler throw food all over the walls and you had to clean it, you didn’t get a lunch break because it was so busy, and to top it all off, some lady threw her drink at you because it didn’t taste like Diet. When your shift ended, all you wanted was to walk home, eat a barrel of chicken nuggets, and go to sleep. Only it was storming outside. 

Normally you’d be fine walking in the rain at night, bit with the already bad day you were having and your anxiety, your brain screamed at you to take cover and wait for the storm to end. There was a small pavilion by the golf course that would likely be empty, where you could freak out in peace. The walk there was horrible, cold, and wet, but you finally made it and plopped down on one of the tables and tried to do some breathing exercises to calm your pounding heart. It seemed to be getting worse, though. 

Rafe had left some golf clubs at the course when he was there earlier with Topper, and as he was running through the rain to the main building, he spotted you. It had been a couple of days since you guys had had a good bickering, and he needed to let off some steam. He approached, but didn’t notice your struggle to breathe. 

“What’s up troll? You’re looking particularly disgusting today. Tell me, what’s it like to have no future and to know that you’ll be slaving away for the rest of your life?” He knew it was harsh, harsher than usual, but he was pissed that Ward made him come back for those stupid golf clubs in the middle of a storm. He’d expected you to roll your eyes, clap back, or even give him a shove for that extra brutal dig, but he didn’t expect you to start choking on sobs. You grabbed at your neck, now sitting up, and tried your best to get air into your lungs, but it wasn’t working. His comment had sent you over the top, wondering if you really would be a slave to the rich and have soda sumped on you every day for the rest of your life. 

Rafe was shocked. He’d never seen you anything but smiling, even when he teased you mercilessly. 

“Woah, hey, are you ok y/n?” He asked.

You shook your head no and grabbed at your chest, looking at him with terrified eyes. You’d had bad anxiety before, but you’d never been unable to breathe like this, and it was scaring you. 

“Ok, ok, I got you,” he said calmly while he lowered your head between your knees. “Just breathe. In through your nose, out through your mouth.” He rubbed your back comfortingly. He used to get panic attacks when his parents were going through divorce, so he knew what you were feeling, and that the best thing to do was distract you. He sat beside you and began to talk. 

“You know this one time, when I was like 12, my parents had just told me and Sarah that they were getting a divorce. She didn’t seem to care, but I was so upset, it was like my whole world came crashing down.” You were able to take shaky breaths at this point, and nodded along to the story. 

“And you know what I did? I had this whole plan to get them back together where I would get them both on our boat and push it off the dock, but I wouldn’t give them the key. And I wasn’t going to let them off until they made up.” Your breathing had slowed slightly and you gave a small laugh. This made Rafe smile, so he kept going. 

“My dad threatened to beat my ass unless I let them off, so I did and he beat me anyways. And that’s when the anger started.” You tensed, and reached out to grab his hand that wasn’t rubbing your back. 

“The next couple of years, I was so mad at everyone and everything all the time. And when Dad met Rose, I kind of spiraled. Started getting into drugs, stealing, bullying. But one day like a year ago Topper convinced me to go to this kegger at the Boneyard. I was by myself off to the side just drinking and being pissed, when this girl came up to me and said ‘why the long face? Daddy didn’t buy you the right color Corvette?’” 

You brought your head up from between your knees and smiled slightly, “I remember that.” 

Rafe moved so he was sitting with his arm around you, and your head on his shoulder. He continued, “Yeah. And I just thought like, who does this girl think she is? She can’t talk to me that way. So I clapped back, called you a troll and told you to go back to your bridge, and you just laughed. Threw your head back and laughed like you didn’t have a care in the world, like I’d just said the funniest joke and not completely insulted you.” His hand was rubbing up and down your arm now, and his other hand came up to caress your face, pushing your hair behind your ear. 

“And we went back and forth, roasting each other for hours. That was the best I’d felt in a long time. I was letting off steam, getting my anger out, and you gave it right back to me smiling the whole time. I’ve never met anyone who smiles as much as you.” He gave your shoulder a squeeze and you laughed. Your breathing was normal now, and you’d forgotten about the tightness in your chest. There was a pause, before he leaned down and placed a soft kiss on your forehead. Your heart fluttered. 

You lifted your head up to look at him and said, “Thanks. I don’t know why I was freaking out like that, but I’m really glad I wasn’t alone.” 

“I get it. Here, the rain stopped. Let me drive you home.” He stood up and offered his hand for you to take. 

“Umm, I actually might walk.” Fresh air always helped when you felt anxious, and you thought if you got in a car with that circulating AC air, you might freak out again. 

“Then I’ll walk you home.” 

As you stood up to take his hand, Rafe noticed your shivering form. You were soaked from the rain, and wearing only a thin t-shirt and shorts. 

“Let me just grab something from my car real quick.” he said. You both walked through the parking lot towards his black SUV, the only car there, and he reached into the back seat and pulled out a hoodie, holding it out for you. “Here, put this on.” You didn’t object because, to be honest, you were so cold you couldn’t feel his skin. It hung down to your knees and swallowed you whole. Rafe just looked down at you with something like affection in his eyes and said “Adorable.” You blushed at the ground and started walking again. It wasn’t a super long walk, maybe half an hour, but it went by like 5 minutes. You talked, played eye-spy, and at one point he gave you a piggy back ride because you kept stumbling on a gravel road. 

You reached your house all too soon, and went to take off the hoodie and give it back when he stopped you, “Keep it. It looks better on you.” You blushed and stood on your tippy toes to kiss his cheek. 

It was his turn to blush as you said, “Thank you Rafe. For everything.” 

You caught him looking down at your lips, and he started to lean down. He made you feel so much better tonight, and you wanted to know what it’d be like to kiss him. So you closed your eyes, and your lips met in a sweet kiss, his hands on your waist and yours cupping his face. You separated after a few seconds and both started to laugh. He followed by saying, “Maybe after tonight you’ll let me take you out some time?” You nodded and smiled ear to ear, because even though you never imagined this happening, you were happy to be with Rafe.

#outer banks #rafe cameron #rafe x reader #john b #obx imagine #x reader #fluff

[rpmemes-galore]

How to write a character with PTSD / C-PTSD:

*disclaimer:  this is entirely based on my own, personal experiences with PTSD. it’s to serve as a basis and guide, but not a firm rulebook for writing it. different people can have different symptoms, at varying levels of severity. PTSD is also often tied with depression and / or other generalized anxiety disorders.This will be extremely personal, and has the potential to be triggering to anyone who has suffered abuse / noncon, or has ptsd / c-ptsd.

WHAT IS C-PTSD? 

Complex post-traumatic stress disorder (C-PTSD; also known as complex trauma disorder) is a psychological disorder that can develop in response to prolonged, repeated experience of interpersonal trauma in a context in which the individual has little or no chance of escape. --- wikipedia

C-PTSD is a subset of PTSD. Whereas PTSD is mostly associated with a traumatic event that only lasted for a short amount of time, or only once  ( eg. car accident, sudden loss of a loved one, ect. ) , C-PTSD has to do with prolonged traumatic events  ( eg. ongoing abuse, imprisonment ).   And depending on the severity and conditions of the prolonged event, those suffering with it can have varying symptoms and levels of symptoms. For this guide, I’m going to be focusing on the PTSD / C-PTSD that I, personally, struggle with: severe, caused by abuse and noncon. References from MAYO CLINIC

INTRUSIVE MEMORIES:

Recurrent, unwanted distressing memories of the traumatic event: Unlike in Hollywood, flashbacks do not have to be full-blown reliving of the event  ( though, it can be ), but rather small, often disconnected glimpses of memories that strike while going about your daily life. Things that can trigger it are smells, sounds, or the sight of something connected to the traumatic event. It can be benign as the sound of someone walking toward you, or bad as someone getting in your face and shouting at you. And what triggers you one day may not trigger you the next.

Reliving the traumatic event as if it were happening again (flashbacks): In my personal experience, this is much harder to come back from than the smaller glimpses mentioned above. This is a full reliving. As far as you’re concerned, you ARE back in the trauma. You ARE back in that house, in that room, with that person... you see them, hear them, they’re in front of you, and you’re that defenseless child, again. This often leads to a panic attack, even after you’ve returned to reality.

Upsetting dreams or nightmares about the traumatic event: Can’t talk about this one much, because I specifically taught myself to lucid dream due to nightmares I used to have... but, that was a long time ago. I do remember they would not be perfect recreations of the event. They’d be disjointed. Often would involve people who hadn’t been there at the time, or random details would be mixed up or completely wrong  ( for instance, instead of standing in the kitchen, you might be out in a field. Multiple events could be happening at once, with no coherency. )  And I do remember waking up suddenly, in a sweat... and sometimes avoiding sleeping for DAYS just to avoid having those nightmares.

Severe emotional distress or physical reactions to something that reminds you of the traumatic event: Similar to the first point, this can also be caused by sights, sounds, smells that you recall from your traumatic moments, or, sometimes, even just from the place where your trauma happened. Unlike the glimpses of memories or full flashbacks, these are disconnected feelings, usually fear, anger, betrayal... and in response to something that might seem silly to someone else. For instance, for me, I have a severe reaction to flyswatters. What is a simple tool to someone else, that they have no issue touching, I can’t even go near. Hands start shaking, I can’t breathe, I tense up like I’m going to be hit.  And similar to that, the sound of someone raising their voice, even happily or not toward me, fills me with immediate dread.      note: this can lead to being a pleaser. desperately trying to avoid upsetting anyone because you’re terrified of people who are upset, whether it’s your fault or not. 

AVOIDANCE 

Trying to avoid thinking or talking about the traumatic event: Self-explanatory on the not wanting to think about it.No one likes to think about things that upset them. As far as the not talking about it goes, it can have a lot to do with shame. You’ve been trained to think it was your fault you were treated so badly, and telling anyone else, means you’re admitting that you were bad and deserved it. And you’re afraid they’re going to agree with your abuser. Or they’re going to gain up on you with your abuser... even if there’s no rational reason to believe these things, the thoughts are still there. 

Avoiding places, activities or people that remind you of the traumatic event:  This can lean toward the extreme... specifically going out of your way to avoid things. Cancelling plans if it might be even slightly related to your trauma, such as a person from that time being there, being in a place --- or sometimes even being near a place --- that reminds you of your trauma  ( like a store you went with your abuser ) , or refusing to take part in something that you and your abuser did together. This can even extend to tasks around the house. For instance, if housework was something tied to your abuse, even marginally, you might avoid doing dishes, or washing the floor.  

NEGATIVE CHANGES IN THINKING AND MOOD 

Negative thoughts about yourself, other people or the world / Difficulty maintaining close relationships / Feeling detached from family and friends: Self-esteem plummets. You have a lot of trouble trusting others, or believing that they truly want the best for you. You have trouble believing that you have any potential, or that you’re capable of doing anything... lose trust in your own judgement and second guess everything you do. You ignore red flags. You constantly need validation in your choices. You feel like someone else needs to second any decision you make. Nowhere feels safe. Even going out of the house is a struggle, and you’re scared and uncomfortable they entire time, like you’re waiting for something bad to happen. 

Memory problems, including not remembering important aspects of the traumatic event:  Feeling like there’s a grey area or the memory being fuzzy, even when you specifically try to recall certain moments. This can lead to doubt, and wondering if you even have trauma.  ---- And not only that, but if your abuse involved gaslighting, you lose faith in your memory of the event. You start overthinking. You doubt whether or not you were even abused. You think you might be remembering things wrong, misconstruing things, being unfair to your abuser. 

Lack of interest in activities you once enjoyed: As PTSD often goes hand-in-hand with depression, you can experience the same symptoms, including lack of motivation or interest, even in things you genuinely enjoy. For me, I LOVE writing. But, actually finding the motivation / energy / confidence to do it is hard... even on good days, it’s a fight to get myself to sit down and accomplish anything. 

Difficulty experiencing positive emotions / Feeling emotionally numb:  Good feelings feel bad. That’s the only way I can describe it. Things like happiness or satisfaction feel... wrong. Like, you’re not supposed to be feeling them. The way I’ve had this explained me to me is: your brain is so used to feeling bad emotions that feeling anything positive is foreign. it’s easier to stick with what you know, no matter how hard it is.  ----- You can have moments of complete emotional nothingness. You disconnect from your feelings completely. The world around you doesn’t feel real. The people around you don’t feel real. It’s like being in really terrible VR. 

CHANGES IN PHYSICAL AND EMOTIONAL REACTIONS:

Being easily startled or frightened / Always being on guard for danger:  You’re always jumpy. It’s like you’re always waiting for the other shoe to drop, or waiting to be hurt or yelled at. 

Self-destructive behavior, such as drinking too much or driving too fast:  This can also extend to self-harm in many forms ranging from cutting, to holding hot objects... ( the most difficult part is when you feel dirty inside and feel like you need to cut or burn it out. It’s an overwhelming feeling that’s very hard to beat or calm yourself down from. )  or just neglecting yourself, like not tending to cuts or scrapes. And you feel like you deserve them. You tell people not to worry when you get hurt because you’re used to it... and, because it’s you that it’s happening to, it’s okay.   Other forms can include substance abuse, alcohol abuse, or even --- consciously or unconsciously --- seeking out abusive relationships just for a sense of normalcy. 

I hope that this guide helps you. And if you are struggling with PTSD, yourself, please don’t be afraid to reach out and find help. You are loved. And your worth is NOT determined by what other people have done to you. 

#not a meme #long post #ptsd tw #cptsd tw #trauma tw #abuse tw #rape tw #selfharm tw #noncon tw #extremely potentially triggering. #writing resources #this was very personal and hard to write #but it means a lot to me and i felt like i need to share. proper representation is important #any negative comments regarding this / negative comments toward people with this condition / or inappropriate jokes on this post #will be blocked.