#A LOT of control in a verge of emotions without noticing)

[pmpwbrrs]

dark does NOT want to get its bag wet. beige helps to prevent that

im not sure if these two are capable of compassion tho. do not be fooled

also floewrs 💦💦🌷🌿🌷🌿🍃🌸🌿🪻🪻🌿🌼💦🌼

[vivsinkpot]

Zoom In, Don’t Glaze Over: How to Describe Appearance Without Losing the Plot

You’ve met her before. The girl with “flowing ebony hair,” “emerald eyes,” and “lips like rose petals.” Or him, with “chiseled jawlines,” “stormy gray eyes,” and “shoulders like a Greek statue.”

We don’t know them.

We’ve just met their tropes.

Describing physical appearance is one of the trickiest — and most overdone — parts of character writing. It’s tempting to reach for shorthand: hair color, eye color, maybe a quick body scan. But if we want a reader to see someone — to feel the charge in the air when they enter a room — we need to stop writing mannequins and start writing people.

So let’s get granular. Here’s how to write physical appearance in a way that’s textured, meaningful, and deeply character-driven.

1. Hair: It’s About Story, Texture, and Care

Hair says a lot — not just about genetics, but about choices. Does your character tame it? Let it run wild? Is it dyed, greying, braided, buzzed, or piled on top of her head in a hurry?

Good hair description considers:

Texture (fine, coiled, wiry, limp, soft)

Context (windblown, sweat-damp, scorched by bleach)

Emotion (does she twist it when nervous? Is he ashamed of losing it?)

Flat: “Her long brown hair framed her face.”

Better: “Her ponytail was too tight, the kind that whispered of control issues and caffeine-fueled 4 a.m. library shifts.”

You don’t need to romanticise it. You need to make it feel real.

2. Eyes: Less Color, More Connection

We get it: her eyes are violet. Cool. But that doesn’t tell us much.

Instead of focusing solely on eye color, think about:

What the eyes do (do they dart, linger, harden?)

What others feel under them (seen, judged, safe?)

The surrounding features (dark circles, crow’s feet, smudged mascara)

Flat: “His piercing blue eyes locked on hers.”

Better: “His gaze was the kind that looked through you — like it had already weighed your worth and moved on.”

You’re not describing a passport photo. You’re describing what it feels like to be seen by them.

3. Facial Features: Use Contrast and Texture

Faces are not symmetrical ovals with random features. They’re full of tension, softness, age, emotion, and life.

Things to look for:

Asymmetry and character (a crooked nose, a scar)

Expression patterns (smiling without the eyes, habitual frowns)

Evidence of lifestyle (laugh lines, sun spots, stress acne)

Flat: “She had a delicate face.”

Better: “There was something unfinished about her face — as if her cheekbones hadn’t quite agreed on where to settle, and her mouth always seemed on the verge of disagreement.”

Let the face be a map of experience.

4. Bodies: Movement > Measurement

Forget dress sizes and six packs. Think about how bodies occupy space. How do they move? What are they hiding or showing? How do they wear their clothes — or how do the clothes wear them?

Ask:

What do others notice first? (a presence, a posture, a sound?)

How does their body express emotion? (do they go rigid, fold inwards, puff up?)

Flat: “He was tall and muscular.”

Better: “He had the kind of height that made ceilings nervous — but he moved like he was trying not to take up too much space.”

Describing someone’s body isn’t about cataloguing. It’s about showing how they exist in the world.

5. Let Emotion Tint the Lens

Who’s doing the describing? A lover? An enemy? A tired narrator? The emotional lens will shape what’s noticed and how it’s described.

In love: The chipped tooth becomes charming.

In rivalry: The smirk becomes smug.

In mourning: The face becomes blurred with memory.

Same person. Different lens. Different description.

6. Specificity is Your Superpower

Generic description = generic character. One well-chosen detail creates intimacy. Let us feel the scratch of their scarf, the clink of her earrings, the smudge of ink on their fingertips.

Examples:

“He had a habit of adjusting his collar when he lied — always clockwise, always twice.”

“Her nail polish was always chipped, but never accidentally.”

Make the reader feel like they’re the only one close enough to notice.

Describing appearance isn’t just about what your character looks like. It’s about what their appearance says — about how they move through the world, how others see them, and how they see themselves.

Zoom in on the details that matter. Skip the clichés. Let each description carry weight, story, and emotion. Because you’re not building paper dolls. You’re building people.

[goldsainz]

# HIGH INFIDELITY — CHAPTER TWO !

SERIES MASTERLIST !

001. SUMMARY !

✯ rafe’s feelings are conflicting, both for him and for you.

002. WARNINGS !

✯ nothing, i think.

003. NOTE !

✯ kinda filler (but not actually) chapter

word count : 1,6k words

Rafe Cameron likes to pretend that nothing in the world can hurt him, that nothing can truly bother him. Though he does hate, and he hates a lot. He hates the shrill sound of Rose’s voice, he hates the expectations Ward places on him, but most of all, he hates not having control. And tonight, at the party at Tannyhill, it feels like control is slipping through his fingers.

The party is everything Rafe Cameron loves and hates about his life rolled into one. On the surface, it’s perfect—just the right mix of chaos and control. The music is loud enough to drown out any awkward silences, the drinks flow as freely as the insults behind polished smiles, and every person in the room knows their place, even if they won’t admit it.

Rafe thrives in this world, the effortless ruler of his gilded kingdom, but tonight something is off. His usual sense of control feels… frayed, like a taut wire on the verge of snapping. He leans casually against a wall, scanning the room, and his jaw tightens when his eyes land yet again on Joshua Diaz.

Josh has always been likable in that unassuming, easygoing way—popular without being cocky, charming without trying. It’s infuriating, really, how people just gravitate toward him, and now you have fallen for his charm too. Because of course you have.

Rafe’s eyes follow you both as you weave through the crowd, your laughter bubbling up every time Josh leans in to whisper something. It’s a sound that cuts through the haze of noise, sharp and impossible to ignore. And Rafe hates that he notices it.

He tells himself it’s not jealousy. It’s something else—something easier to swallow, like irritation. Annoyance at Josh for bringing her here, into his space, when you so clearly don't belong. You’re a Pogue, for crying out loud. What is Josh even thinking?

But deep down, Rafe knows it’s not just about you being a Pogue. It’s the way you carry yourself, like you're unaware of the lines you’ve crossed just by stepping into his house. Like you don't care. It’s the way you laugh, uninhibited and real, in a way that no one in his world ever does. It’s the way you look at Josh, eyes bright and full of warmth that Rafe hasn’t seen directed at himself in years.

It’s maddening.

He shifts his weight, arms crossed over his chest, as he watches Josh place a hand on her back, guiding her through the crowd with ease. Rafe clenches his jaw, a low simmer of frustration building in his chest.

What does he see in you?

The question gnaws at him, and he hates that he’s even asking it. Hates that he’s wasting mental energy on a girl who should be nothing more than a passing annoyance. Yet he can’t stop watching you, can’t stop the irrational churn of emotions every time you smile at Josh like he’s the only person in the room.

He convinces himself it’s not about you. It’s about Josh. It’s about protecting his friend from making a mistake, from getting too close to someone who could never understand their world.

You’re looking out for him, Rafe tells himself, though the words ring hollow.

Rafe tears his gaze away, forcing himself to look anywhere but at you. The room feels suffocating now, the press of bodies and the buzz of conversation blending into a dull roar in his ears. He grabs a drink from the table beside him, more out of habit than thirst, and downs it in one sharp gulp. The burn of alcohol barely registers; his mind is too tangled in thoughts he refuses to name.

It shouldn’t matter to him. You shouldn’t matter to him. Yet, as much as he tries to push the feelings down, they bubble up like a poison he can’t shake. Every laugh, every fleeting touch between you and Josh grates on him, a reminder of just how out of control he feels tonight.

And control is everything to Rafe Cameron.

He sets the empty glass down harder than necessary, drawing a glance from one of the partygoers nearby. He ignores it, his attention already drifting back to you despite himself. You're standing near the pool now, the soft glow of the lights casting a golden hue over your skin. Josh is still by your side, but his focus has shifted to someone else. You’re alone, if only for a moment.

The logical part of Rafe tells him to let it go, to stay where he is and let the night play out. But another part—a louder, more reckless part—urges him forward. Before he can second-guess himself, he’s moving through the crowd, weaving between groups of people with single-minded determination.

When he reaches you, you don’t notice him at first, your gaze fixed on the water as you swirl the drink in your hand. There’s a calmness about you, an ease that feels so foreign in this world of his. For a moment, Rafe hesitates, caught between wanting to ruin it and wanting to understand it.

“You look out of place,” he says finally, his voice low but cutting.

You turn, startled, and meet his eyes. There’s no fear there, no shrinking under his scrutiny. Instead, you raise an eyebrow, your lips curving into the faintest hint of a smirk.

“And yet, here I am,” you reply, seemingly unfazed.

The simplicity of your response throws him. Most people would stumble over themselves trying to appease him, but not you. You hold your ground, unbothered, and it both infuriates and intrigues him.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he says, though the words come out weaker than he intends.

“Neither should you,” you counter, tilting your head. “You don’t even look like you’re enjoying your own party.”

Rafe opens his mouth to respond, but for once, he’s at a loss. You’re not wrong—he hasn’t enjoyed a single second of tonight. Yet, as much as he wants to push you away, he finds himself rooted in place, unwilling to leave.

“Maybe I’m just trying to figure out why Josh brought you here,” he says, falling back on the sharp edge of his words.

For a moment, he thinks he sees a flicker of amusement in your eyes. “Maybe you should ask him,” you say lightly. “Or is it easier to corner me instead?”

Rafe’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t respond. He doesn’t know how to. For all his bravado, all his carefully crafted masks, he feels exposed under your gaze, as if you can see straight through him.

And he hates that too.

For a moment, the world around you seems to fade, the noise of the party muffled by the weight of the silence between you and Rafe. His sharp blue eyes hold yours, and though he tries to mask it, there’s something raw and unspoken lingering there—something that sets your nerves on edge and makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Neither of you say a word, but the tension is palpable, stretching between you, ready to snap.

Then, like a switch being flipped, your expression changes. The barely-there softness in your gaze hardens. Without so much as a word, you turn your attention away from Rafe and lean into Josh. The move is deliberate, calculated, as if you’re making a point. You whisper something into Josh’s ear, your voice too low for Rafe to hear, but the intent behind it is clear.

Josh’s easy going demeanor shifts almost instantly. His brows furrow, and his head turns sharply in Rafe’s direction. There’s no mistaking the glint of surprise—and maybe a hint of irritation—in his eyes as they lock onto Rafe’s. Whatever you said, it’s enough to make Josh stand a little straighter, his shoulders squaring as he regards his friend with a newfound wariness.

Rafe stiffens under the weight of Josh’s gaze, his fists clenching at his sides. He feels exposed, like he’s just been caught in the act of something he can’t explain. The simmering frustration he’s been trying to suppress threatens to boil over, but he forces himself to stay composed. Barely.

Josh leans in closer to you, murmuring something he can’t quite catch, and you respond with a casual shrug, as if Rafe isn’t even worth a second thought. The sight of it—the ease with which you brush him off—grates on Rafe more than he cares to admit. It’s as if the two of you are speaking a language he doesn’t understand, leaving him on the outside looking in.

For the first time in a long time, Rafe Cameron feels like he’s lost control. And he hates it.

He hates that he can't tear his gaze away from the two of you as you weave once again through the crowd. Hates the way he barely moves from the spot he was standing, as if his feet are rooted to the floor by some invisible force, forcing him to watch you slip further away from him with each passing second. 

The longer he watches, the more he feels himself unraveling. Every smile you share with Josh, every glance exchanged between the two of you, twists something inside him, something raw and unexplainable. He’s not supposed to care. He knows that. You’re just another person in his world, another blip in the endless sea of faces he can’t be bothered to remember. But tonight, it feels different.

And he can’t stand it.

[wlwdwtys]

Chara and Papyrus post Fake Pacifist friendship

Okay okay but hear me out. Undertale au where after genocide, frisk does pacifist and at the end, once they've settled on the surface, Chara takes control of Frisk's body. At first slowly. Papyrus is the first to recognise the differences and to figure out that this is a different person, not just Frisk acting weirdly (combined with the Papyrus being smarter than he lets on). He doesn't remember the genocide and he notices the new person acting standoffish, preferring to watch from the shadows. Papyrus joins them, trying to cheer them up and in the process figure out as much information as possible about this new person. They've had experience with the people not being who they say they are before (Frisk told them about Flowey and Asriel being the same person and the whole story.). So Papyrus tries to figure out why is this new person overtaking Frisk's body, why is Frisk distressed by this, is this new person dangerous and what can possibly help Frisk without harming the other person. Chara can't fully overtake Frisk yet because of the whole determination thing, it takes time, it's a slow process. Plus Chara just secretly wants to be with the monsters a bit. Even if they all think that Chara is Frisk, it's still nice, seeing their family, even through the lense of dehumanisation. Maybe they don't have to kill everyone quite yet. They have to wait anyways so why not give themselves a little more freedom? Papyrus and Chara start to slowly bond. At first Chara completely pushes him away, genuinely not really caring, plus viewing him through the fog of objectification (viewing him as a tool. Just another soon-to-be dead monster.) but eventually Papyrus starts gaining their sympathy. He figures out what Chara actually likes, trying to see through all the masks. He brings them chocolate, helps them to spend more time with Toriel and Asgore, listens to them talk about flowers, although Chara is hesitant, but then they start to rant like a complete nerd. Papyrus counts that as an absolute win. He has experience being friends with dangerous sociopaths (Flowey) so I think it'd make sense that he manages to befriend them. But eventually Chara starts to overtake Frisk more and more and gathers enough power to get their plan over with. Kill everyone. Take revenge for their pain and suffering. Be the devil that everyone thinks they are. They are standing near their bed, holding the golden medallion and the true knife in their hands when Papyrus finds them. He immediately understands that something is wrong, that true knife couldn't mean anything good. Chara hesitantly looks up, the images of his death flashing in their mind. First victim. First obstacle to get over. And then they'll be unstoppable. But they just can't bring themselves to. They tell Papyrus about who they really are. About Frisk's determination during the genocide run bringing them back, about the genocide they helped commit, about the bloodlust they felt, about the deal. They ask Papyrus if he hates them now. If he hates them because they killed all of his friends once before and are on the verge of doing it again. Papyrus asks about their past, the time they lived with the Dreemurs, before the death, about their life with the humans before the fall. Chara is surprised but tells him anyways, getting emotional as the wholesome and the sad memories bring back the emotions. At the end of their talk, Papyrus concludes that they are a kid who did a lot of bad things but that doesn't mean that they can't change. He says that even though he doesn't remember his previous death, that he meant what he said then. That they can always change. That he will not hate them for trying to get better. Never. Chara manages to drop down their walls for a moment, giving in and hugging Papyrus and crying. From that point on Chara tries to fix what they've done and all of that good healing shit. Also they go to the underground at some point to chat with Flowey because he might just be the only one besides Frisk to actually understand Chara. So.. yup.

[gamergirl-06]

Bruno x Preg! Reader

Summary: You find out you’re pregnant while Bruno is out helping Sam. Emma comforts you when you have doubt’s.

Notes: this is separate to my actual fanfic that I am posting here from my Wattpad, you can also request anything if you like.

I also had this idea in my head for a little while just had to write it.

Start

You sat on the edge of Emma’s bed as you cried. You had been feeling sick the last few days and you prayed it was just a stomach bug.

However you had a feeling it wasn’t a stomach bug after you thought back to when you and Bruno did it after he had gotten back from monarch studios.

Now here you were, crying on Emma’s bed with a positive pregnancy test in one hand and the other hand covering half of your face as you try to control your sobbing.

A knock then sounded at the door.

“Hey (Y/N/N), can I come in” it was Emma, she must have been startled with the others when you ran past her and the others and up to her room.

Her room was your safe haven, a place you could keep calm without anything negative affecting you.

Wiping the last of the tears off your cheeks you managed a little “you may”.

Emma opens the door and smiles “hey, are you ok, me and the others are wondering if your alright”

Sometimes Emma could be a bit of a…person who cares about fame and not people’s feelings, but ever since the world went to shit, she was a lot kinder to people and as Andrea put it “the old Emma (before fame)” plus she had become your closest confidant.

You smiled as she walked over and sat next to you giving you a side hug which you accept.

“I don’t know, if I’m being honest” you said truthfully “ I don’t know what to do”

Emma noticed you fidgeting with something in your hand “what is it”

You opened your hand as she looked at it “ I’m Pregnant Em”

Her eyes widened and she hugged you “congratulations I’m so happy for you”

You smile “thanks…but”

Emma gives you a frown “but what?”

“We’re in the apocalypse, how can I bring a child into this world” you said and then tears brimmed your eyes “what if..what if Bruno doesn’t want anything to do with me or the baby or leaves me” tears fall down your face.

Emma grabs both sides of your head “hey look at me, you don’t need to worry about being alone, you have us and you have known Bruno since before all this but if Bruno decides to leave you, then Sam will kick his ass”.

You giggle, yeah that’s something Sam would do.

“Thanks Em, I appreciate you”

“It’s all good” Emma said as she have you a proper hug this time

Just then you heard the front door open and voices, Sam and Bruno must be back.

Your heartbeat quickens and Emma gives you final piece of advice “breath, relax and you got this girl”

The bedroom door opens and Bruno enters “Hey mi amor (my love)”

Emma gives a smile before exiting.

Bruno sits down next to you and pecks your lips “Eres hermosa (You’re beautiful)”

You smile before quickly looking at the ground

Bruno’s smile fades as he watches your emotions change

“Babe what’s wrong” he asks as he cups your cheek

When you don’t answer he gets worried “bebe dime que pasa (baby tell me what’s wrong)”

You place the test in his hands as you whisper a “I’m pregnant Bruno”

He freezes as he looks at the test unable to communicate.

You stand up and rush out the door but a hand grabs your wrist.

You turn around and see it’s Bruno who was staring straight into your eyes.

“Don’t go” his voice was low and shakey, you could see he was on the verge of tears.

“Ok then I won’t” came your reply as he pulled you into him.

He presses his lips to yours in a passionate kiss . Breaking away from the kiss he rests his head against yours

“Please don’t go, I love you so much, I can’t wait to have a child with you”.

“Really” your eyes lit up happy hearing the news.

“Of course your the love of my life” Bruno said “and I’d be damned if I let this family go”

He gave you another kiss

“I love you” you said

“No I love you more” replied Bruno

“We’ll see about that”

End

[lovehealgrow]

5 Signs You’re Suppressing Your Feelings

If you haven’t learned how to process your emotions, they can begin to feel really heavy. Maybe you’ve pushed them down for a long time and don’t know how to get back in touch with them. Sometimes we learn to suppress our emotions in a way to survive and cope. It’s hard to know where to start!

I like to use the analogy that suppressing emotions is like over-stuffing a garbage bag. You can keep pushing things down over and over. However, eventually it’s going to rip out the bottom. At that point, it can be really hard to sort out what you’re feeling and where that feeling came from. It all becomes jumbled together, overwhelming, and even messy.

Here are some signs you may be suppressing your emotions:

Feeling out of control– You might feel like you have a short fuse or not feel in control of how you express emotion. If you have been suppressing your feelings, there may be a build up that leads to a sort of “explosion”. This can feel really scary and you might tell yourself that you have to suppress your feelings even more. However, regularly expressing feelings (big and small) can help to alleviate this.

Discomfort with other people’s emotions– If you have a hard time sitting with your own emotions, being around others who express what they feel openly may be uncomfortable. This applies to big expressions of emotions across the spectrum – happiness, sadness, frustration, excitement. Watching someone else freely express how they feel might draw attention to your own, inhibited, emotional expression.

Disproportionate responses– Maybe you’re noticing yourself on the verge of tears after watching a commercial or hearing a song you’ve heard many times. Or you might become incredibly angry or flustered after spilling your coffee. You might find yourself wondering where it’s all coming from. This is a sign that your feelings are just under the surface and may come creeping out when you don’t expect it.

Physical/somatic complaints without a medical cause– We hold our feelings in our bodies. If, for example, you are someone who gets a stomach ache every time you worry, and you are ignoring that feeling of worry, you might be experiencing some unexplainable stomach issues. Another way this shows up a lot is muscle tension and stress. If you aren’t acknowledging the stress, the muscle tension will be really difficult to manage. (I always recommend folks to get screened by their doctors, however, just to rule anything else out).

Avoidance/numbing– Sometimes, in order to keep uncomfortable emotions at bay, we engage in activities that distract or numb us. This can be a coping skill and often the strategies we use are normalized such as – impulsive shopping, drinking, substance use, over working, or keeping ourselves so busy that we don’t have time to focus on emotions.

A big message here is that suppressing your emotions may have been a way to survive or cope with things that felt too big. Rather than this being a source of shame, it can be a great source of curiosity and a way to learn more about yourself through exploration and expression.

Therapy can be a great place to begin taking your time sorting through your emotions. If you’re ready to get started on your healing journey, I would love to support you. Click here to schedule an appointment with me today!

[thesundowncrew]

This time Nightshade heard something, her ears perked and gaze snapping towards the sound. A bit of a shuffle and a soft 'thump' just outside Samhain's door. She looked back at her sleeping friend. He'd be okay for a few minutes right? He wasn't going anywhere.

She didn't sense any malicious energy so she was relaxed when she popped her head out into the hall to see who it was. "Oh!" It was the teen boy! Bran wasn't it? He looked frazzled, on the verge of tears even. She could sense a tumble of emotions building up in the young boy, a lot of frustration and anxieties and guilt. And that was cause for real concern in soft-hearted Nightshade.

"Heeey," she cooed, squatting low to the floor in the doorframe of Samhain's bedroom, the door opened just enough for her figure to stick out halfway. "You okay?"

—

“Let me go?”

Aah, he understood now. He understood everything. This place. These fantasies. Why wouldn't anyone want to leave? Everything felt so real here, so solid and warm. Just like her hand that was still enveloped in his. Like the sun shining right above them or the grass beneath their feet.

“I… I don’t understand, love.”

Neither could he. He couldn't believe an illusion could work so well, constructing itself from nothing but past memories and running emotions. Like a perfectly programmed script and the characters were just dolls being told how to act when they said their lines. But oh, how undeniably realistic this curated world was. The way her eyes darted in panic, how her voice wavered and her hand trembled in fear. And how utterly cruel.

“Have I done something wrong?”

"No, love, not at all," said Samhain and he closed the gap between them. He could feel the illusion slowly unraveling as he took hold of his own consciousness, his own thoughts and emotions. He could hear the sound of his heartbeat reverberating throughout the dreaming, like thunder rolling down the valleys. He kept the dream draught encased in his hand while he held Liore's face with the other. Their world was collapsing all around them and yet they only had eyes for each other. "You kept yer word after all."

"When we were ten summers old, your mathair took her own life. When we were thirteen, ah almost bled out in the snow," said Samhain suddenly, taking a lock of her hair and holding it to his lips. He spoke slowly and calmly, in his usual, soothing voice. But who was he comforting this time? Liore... or himself?

"When we were fifteen, we promised ourselves to each other. That after Granda passed, ah'd build us a boat an' we'd make it to the mainland. We'd travel an' see the world an' all its wonders. You'd make your remedies an' ah'd do whatever it took to provide.." The edges of the dreaming rippled, doing its best to keep itself together but it was no use. Samhain had taken control now.

In the illusion, they had created a whole life for themselves; living freely and far away from the village, flourishing in their young adulthood. "We never made it to our twentieth summer," he said flatly, though his eyes and chest weighed heavy with remorse. He plucked the aster and returned it to her, tucking it behind her ear again. "You said that you'd always be with me, but ah doubted you. After the first few hundred years, ah could barely remember what you looked like. Ah welcomed all my nightmares if it meant ah could see your face one more time. But you were right.. You kept your word. You've been here all along..."

He pulled the facsimile of Liore into his arms for one final embrace, whispering into her ear. "Safe, in my memories."

—

Samhain woke up with a jolt, his breath a-shudder before calming himself into a steady rhythm once more. Nightshade turned as soon as she heard him. "SAMMY!!" she pounced without a moment's notice, arms wringing around his neck into a tight hug and squealing. "Omigosh omigosh omigosh!! You're awake, thank Bast!!"

"(WHEEZE) It's.. (COUGH) nice to see you too, Nightie.. (GASP)"

Feldmire listened to Nightshade’s story as well.

It had watched from the shadows as she arrived, hidden in dusty corners and crevices. Nightshade’s appearance was unlucky, but Feld didn’t worry too much — even when she stumbled upon the loophole in its deal with Maude, and even when Maude failed to stop her. What could this girl possibly do to ruin its success? How could she wake Samhain when Feld had entangled him in the dream so thoroughly?

Samhain’s dream had exceeded its expectations and eased the constant hunger that gnawed within the creature. It had replenished Feld’s energy, renewed its confidence. Feld floated in a sea of satisfaction.

It still followed the girl, its curiosity too strong to resist. It slipped behind a wall in Samhain’s room (it was so easy now, with that pesky barrier gone) and watched through a crack as Nightshade tried to wake him. When she placed a silly little pouch in his hands, the creature stifled a snort of derision. It had no idea what the pouch held or what purpose it served, but it seemed foolish to give a gift to someone who would never wake up. Why didn’t she keep it for herself?

The girl talked on and on. By the time she switched the topic to desserts, Feld’s interest had waned into boredom. So it left. It drifted lazily away, through the pipes and insulation, up into the attic. It curled itself on the seat of a tattered armchair, basking in a spot of sunshine like an especially unpleasant cat.

Surely the girl would give up soon. Maybe she’d take a nap before she left, and it would taste her dreams as well, but Feld didn’t find her presence nearly as appetizing as Samhain’s. It doubted her dreams carried the same delicious blend of melancholy.

For now, it savored its victory and amused itself by imagining what trinket it might turn Samhain into.

—

Nightshade described memories and rambled about desserts, and always, always, she spoke as though she were addressing someone. Someone important in all her stories. She wasn’t talking to herself, Bran realized, the truth slowly dawning on him and dread twisting its way into his throat. She was talking to…

Samhain.

He was still there. He’d never left; he was simply trapped asleep. Feld had gotten to him. Which meant Maude had lied to Bran when he’d found her that morning and asked if Samhain had left yet, because Maude always knew which guests Feld captured.

The unfairness of everything crashed down on Bran, heavy and overwhelming. Trembling, he slid down the wall to sit on the floor. His breathing wavered, so he pressed the back of his hand against his mouth to muffle it. His eyes stung, so he squeezed them shut.

He knew he was acting childish. He knew he should have expected this to happen. Why had he thought Samhain would be different? He needed to compose himself, enter the room, and gently tell the girl that her friend wouldn’t wake up, no matter how many stories she told him. He needed to apologize to her, because in the end, all the fault rested upon him.

He needed to get up, at least. But for some reason, he couldn’t. He stayed there instead, just outside Samhain’s door, and willed himself not to cry.

—

The dream went fuzzy around its edges. Leaves and flowers blurred together like watercolors.

Liore, the dream’s heartbeat, stayed strong for now. She clung to life even as other parts of the illusion faded. Nothing softened the immediate impact of Samhain’s words. Her breath faltered, and betrayal and confusion flitted vividly across her face.

“Let me go?” she echoed softly, her tone laced with hurt. “What do you…?” Her words trailed off, and she lowered her hand from his cheek, but she didn’t let go of his hand. “I… I don’t understand, love.” She was trying to understand, though — it showed in her faint frown, her creased brow, the way she searched his gaze desperately for clues. If she noticed the change in his eye color, she showed no sign of it. Her voice wavered slightly. “Have I done something wrong?”

[littleliquor]

When Daylight Fades (pt. 5)

Note: I’m still in the process of merging my plot to the original plot. It’s quite a challenge because I’m still trying to find a way to kind of alter the original plot without completely setting its direction astray. But I’m heading there. HOWEVER, though I have a good idea of how the story ends, it could either be a happy ending or a sad ending and I haven’t decided between them, yet. 

Background: Reader ran into Wednesday’s visit to Weathervane while receiving a deeply upsetting news that brought her to the verge of losing control. After the exhausting attempt to regain control, reader sought comfort from Tyler. The reader’s own history and trauma slowly unravelled as the story proceeds.  

Warning: light fluff (once again, I stopped right where it’s supposed to stop because I’m about as bad as a first time parent talking to their kid about the bird and the bee)

Part 1  Part 2   Part 3  Part 4  Part 6  Part 7

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

I took a short detour into the town of Jericho for my usual afternoon coffee. Indulging in Weathervane’s over-roasted coffee scent had become a part of my everyday routine. I would sit for an hour, waiting for the end of Tyler’s shift. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed my new classmate’s haste entrance into the cafe. Wednesday took no time to quickly spewed out her order to Tyler. Right in the untimely malfunction of the espresso machine.

“A quad over ice. It’s an emergency.” 

Before I could make a decision on whether or not to strike a decent conversation with Wednesday, my phone rang. 

Margery Calling… 

I picked up the phone, expecting the bright voice of the young apprentice. Instead, I was greeted by the low, clear voice of the Supreme herself. 

“Y/N…” 

“Just because I’m not picking up your calls, doesn’t mean you should call me on Marge’s number.” I interrupted her sentence with as much hint of annoyance as I could possible give out. 

“That’s not why I’m calling. Marge is dead.” Joy delivered the worst news I’d heard in the entire day. Without saying a word, my first instinct was to run outside of Weathervane. An overwhelming mixture of emotions engulfed the entirety of my mind, confusion, sorrow, rage… 

“How?” I rubbed my thumb over the nail on my middle finger, trying desperately to distract myself. That was when I realized my hands were shaking. A soft light glow bleed from my index uncontrollably. I shoved my hand inside my pocket frantically, hoping no one would catch my hysteria. 

Marge was only an apprentice, far too weak to wield her power fully. It was a little harsh of me to say it but she was an easy target. She was kind, perhaps too kind for her own good. I found her passionate, bright perspective with others to be annoying, but she could’ve been so much more. Marge didn’t deserve this. 

“Steel bullet to the heart. Apparently, she was tied down with a chain before her killer shot her.” Joy said, solemn and stern. Deep down, I knew she was worried about another witch hunt. It would be the worst nightmare for a lot of us. 

“Cowards.” I pursed my lips, trying my hardest to keep my voice from cracking. 

The killing of a wielder using steel chains and bullets was not a spontaneous murder. It was a deliberate, well-planned murder most often seen among witch hunters. With our information all over the internet, we had become more vulnerable than ever. 

A loud thudding noise from the cafe brought my attention back to the surroundings. As I turned back to the glasses, I caught the glimpse of Wednesday’s impressive stunt to take down three teenage bullies two times her own size. 

“Be careful out there, Y/N… I’m worried for all of us.” Joy took a deep breath. “Promise me you won’t go looking for whoever killed her.” 

“Joy, you need to warn everybody and fortify the Coven…” Before I could continue, I saw Tyler walking out of Weathervane towards me. “I need to go now. Later.” 

I slipped my phone back inside my coat hurriedly. The world of witches and warlocks were a more complicated and dangerous than people imagined. Tyler’s Hyde identity had brought enough on his plate already. He shouldn’t have to deal with my issues as well. 

“Hey, you don’t look so well. What happened?” Tyler pressed his finger gently in between my eyebrows. I noticed I’d been frowning the whole time. 

“It’s nothing really. Just some… family business.” I tried to smile at him. Somehow I made myself looking more nervous to him. 

“I’m off in a moment. Do you want to go get a burger and talk about it?” Tyler brushed his hands on his apron, asking carefully. 

My heart was racing but it wasn’t because of him. The chaos was slipping out of my control as my panic took over. It was screaming in every drop of blood that ran through my veins, enraging, threatening to burst out from my pores. 

“I… I actually need to tend to something. I’ll meet you back at your house, okay?” I left him a light kiss on the cheek and ran off to the woods separating Nevermore and Jericho on my foot. 

I sprinted through the wood full speed ahead. The rustling of the trees and the whistling of the wind accompanied my every hurried steps. It was sharp and loud. I couldn’t keep track of how long I’d been running but I didn’t stop until my lungs began to give out… or until I tripped over the long stretch of a tree’s exposing root. 

I knelt down on the ground, all fours pressing over it. The air was treacherous with a cold danger somewhere. But at this very moment, at least, I was all alone. The red glow that had showed its sheer presence before had grew stronger with a bright red color, now leaking through my whole body. 

I wished I could pretend that the death of my Coven member meant nothing to me. Reality was that it had brought back all the memories that I’d die to forget. My mother’s scream in the town square in the middle of the night, my sister’s cry as the flame from the pyre beneath them consumed them whole. Starting from the fabric of their dresses, until their voices stopped. 

They’d taken away my family once… They’d do it again… 

With a deafening scream, the glow swept through the woods around me in a violent storm. I managed to minimize the scope of its explosion at the last second, but the poor trees standing meters from me had all been turned to dust, drizzling in air like they never existed. 

I struggled to pick myself up from the ground while containing the chaos under my hold. I had always suspected that this youthful flesh was not enough to keep all the chaos under control. I only hoped it will ease up as I grow older. After the cathartic explosion, it felt as if I had exhausted my body. Every step seemed to be heavier and heavier. I dragged my legs towards Tyler’s house slowly. 

It was almost past midnight when I reached the Galpins’ front porch. Sheriff Galpin was out of sight, again. He took the truck with him. I lowered my entire body in utter lassitude, slamming my entire hand on the doorbell. As the door opened, I laid all of my body weight over Tyler, holding onto him by his shirt. Before he could tell a word, I pressed my lips over his in an ardent kiss, breathing in his scent until it filled my lungs and my mind.  

Tyler’s hands crawled along my spine to the back of my head, holding me even closer to him. With a small opening of his lips, I slipped my tongue into his mouth, enjoying, but not satiated by his reciprocation. I couldn’t stop myself from the intoxicating taste of him. I pulled away for a gasp of air, but he immediately caught up to me. It wasn’t enough. I wanted more, a lot more. With a soft moan leaving his mouth, we stumbled into his bedroom. @sarcastic-sourwolf​ @snips-501​ @gayandfairycore @o-the-o-grim-o-reaper-o​​​​

[lay-z]

Xu Xialing | Smut HC

MCU | Shan-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings

Pairing: Xu Xialing x F!Reader

Warnings/Info: SMUT | F/F | 18+! | dom!Xialing/sub!Reader; kinks; edging;overstimulation/orgasm denial | voyeurism/exhibitionsim | nylon fetish

Tags are at the end of the post! (:

Aight, let’s do this...♥

Xialing is not the most emotional person, because she taught herself to conceal them

And if she does get emotional in public, it is usually anger or frustration

She projects a lot of her (emotional) trauma onto her opponents whenever she spars or fights at the club, sort of like a coping mechanism

However, a lot of times her emotions get out of control, especially after fighting and beating someone up

There’s so much abundant energy she must get rid of then

And Xialing notices that it’s at these times she gets in the mood to fuck

But she swiftly grows tired of finding the right woman who can keep up with her

Most women at the Golden Daggers club are not necessarily what she looks for in a sexual partner

So, when you show up one night, she’s immediately intrigued

The whole evening, she tries to keep her eyes on you, checking you out, until she decides you’re worthy enough to be approached by her

As soon as your special relationship is established and terms are discussed, it’s on

Xialing is quite dominant, but you don’t mind that

In fact, you welcome and desire her dominance over you

She loves to see you in nylon or mesh tights, with form-fitting dresses or short skirts, and high heels

It’s a major turn on for Xialing to know that so many people lust after you, but she’s the only one who can have you

She likes to watch you fingering yourself until she cannot control herself any longer, and after you come, she’ll allow you to eat her out afterwards

It’s the only time where you have any sort of minor control over her

Xialing will have you sit on her lap while she’s in a meeting with her followers

She will have you wear nylon tights or stockings only, maybe a lace bra or bralette if she’s generous or not in the mood to have the others see all of you

And her delicate fingers will slip under the waistband of the smooth fabric, and she will play with your pussy until you’re dripping wet, squirming under her touch

And she’ll relish the feeling to know that she can do that to you, because you enjoy it too

If you behave during those meetings, Xialing will reward you by allowing you to come with a vibrator inside you while she plays with your clit

However, if you squirm too much or come without her permission, Xialing will either keep you on the verge of climaxing, but denying you to come, or make you come until you whimper from overstimulation

She would never admit it at first, but after a while she grows fond of you beyond sex, and will keep you around because she enjoys your company

You don’t comment on it, but you notice a slight change in her behavior, and the fucking slowly turns into making love

Xialing becomes soft on you, and the punishments become less and less for a while, until you tell her that you liked them

So, you start roleplaying more, and you act like a brat until Xialing is riled up enough to punish you afterwards

Though that doesn’t mean that you don’t enjoy her softer side, in fact, you love to know that Xialing has deeper feelings for you

And even though your relationship has started with sex only, it keeps growing into something more

@positivelymarvelous​ @the-dragon-heart​ @dustiebunsstuff​ @xxxtwilightaxelxxx​@pinkbay-love​ @everwhovian @zealouspursecowboydeputy @crazycookiecrumbles @m-1234 @justifymyfeelings @omni-verse @boobearlover2469 @inmybussiness-dontdothat @shawn-chi @whinsical-ash @theonefairygodmother @lalasunny @badass-dora-milaje @selenasprompts @gaysoffuturepast @laamaking  @rizthenerdypisces @jupitermaximoff @cuteflowers-101 @issbella-mendez9340  @hufflepuffs-and-hozier @astrolisn @cremedelabrulee @honey-clo @dangerouslyclose @missusstark​ @dracoxxyoflam​ @everydaymj​ @mimaligrl @calsgirl​ @lovelyrdjr​  @walking-anxious-disaster​ @austynparksandpizza​  @the-dragon-heart​ @dustiebunsstuff​ @0mni-verse @godjihoe​ @sydx-x445 @snazzy-name-insert-here​ @danny-boy27​  @mionemymind​

[purefandomonium]

Connection Part 11: Missing Number

RED: Everything was fine at first. I didn’t… I never even knew it was all fake.

RED: I can’t remember everything, but I know for the first few playthroughs it felt so real. I really felt like I was making my own story.

RED: You couldn’t have told me it was all a lie.

“…So what did? You said before it was the repeated playthroughs but was that all?” She watched him shake his head.

RED: There was… something else…

She noted the way his posture changed. He moved to bring one leg to his chest as though holding it close was some sort of lifeline. His gaze met the ground, if one could call the blank void a tangible space. He looked disturbed.

RED: The game was always a little buggy. Little things here and there. I… They weren’t usually… noticeable. Not at first. Not until that… that thing… happened.

Red locked eyes with Leann through the screen.

RED: How familiar are you with the glitches in this game?

She shrugged. “I know there’s a lot. I’ve never purposely sought any out though so my knowledge is kinda limited.” She averted her eyes from the sharp stare. He didn’t seem to realize how intimidating he was being.

RED: Do you know about the main one?

Leann wasn’t the type to beat around the bush. After a long silence, “Missingno?”

RED: It shouldn’t exist. For all intents and purposes that thing sHoldN’t bE HerE.

He bared his teeth in disgust at the mere thought of it. Of how the very first time he encountered it, he was forced to fight it against his will. How he was hesitant to do something that he normally wouldn’t have questioned. He didn’t want to fight it, didn’t want to even look at it, but the unstoppable urge to do so made him anyway. He remembered watching in absolute fear and realizing that he wasn’t in control of his body. That all he could do was watch as that thing existed and he was powerless against the way it broke the world he knew.

He remembered being forced to do it again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, until something finally snapped.

RED: I’ll never forgive them for allowing something so vile to exist in the first place.

Leann’s eyes widened at the sudden jump in words. “Isn’t it just, like, a bunch of missing data the game doesn’t know what to do with? Hence the name. It’s just a really big sprite it can’t load, right? So it carries over into the rest of the code…” Her words died as Red’s expression morphed into something feral.

RED: It corrupts the rest of the code! It destroys everything it touches!

RED: Do you know what kind of pain that is?! To be scrambled by that thing! Over and over… So many years…

Even now, he could feel its presence. It was always there, but as the years wore on and players repeatedly abused the thing, he found its existence weighing heavily on his mind. Some days he was certain the thing was taunting him. Laughing at how he’d never be rid of it, never be free from the burden its damage had done. He couldn’t look at the scenery without seeing some sign of it. His own self was corrupted by it, form fizzling in and out between himself and a garbled mess of nightmares and agony. That wasn’t even taking into account all the damage the other glitches had done. He pulled his hair to try and clear the thoughts.

Red looked like he was on the verge of a breakdown. Whether it was one of anger or sadness was yet to be seen. She felt her chest grow tight. “Hey… I’m sorry. I know that doesn’t really do anything for you but…” She was at a loss for words. “Damn… I’m so sorry…” She felt horrible.

Red forced himself to calm down. Sometimes it felt like his emotions were the only things he had control over, and even they still betrayed him. He let go of his hair.

RED: Sorry for that. It’s just… It’s difficult to explain. That thing is like… It just doesn’t belong.

He shuddered like he was going to cry and Leann found herself absently rubbing a thumb along the side of the console. “That sounds absolutely terrifying.” She likened it to some cosmic eldritch horror. Something that broke all of humanity’s perceived concept of reality. Now it made more sense, the way he was acting. What looked like a funny little sprite error on the outside was something so horrific it shattered poor Red’s sense of reality and maybe even his sense of self. Maybe that was another reason why he was so jumbled in the beginning.

RED: No matter what I tried to do, I couldn’t stop myself from going through with it. I couldn’t stop all the other glitches.

RED: I tried getting the players’ attention. I tried warning them, begging them… Threatening them was the only thing that worked.

RED: As soon as they stopped dragging me around like some puppet, I realized I could still control my own actions.

RED: So I started fighting back…

RED: I made them so afraid of me, they got rid of me. Ran away and left me be. It wasn’t ideal. But at least I wasn’t being made to do things against my will. I wasn’t being sent to my death, only to be brought back in a new game and forced to do it all over again.

RED: …Eventually the players stopped coming. And I could finally get some rest.

“Jeez, Red… That’s just… That’s the most fucked up thing I’ve ever heard,” she said, voice barely above a whisper. “Now I feel bad just for getting you in the first place. I had no idea it was this agonizing.”

RED: Don’t feel bad. I’m glad you got the cartridge.

He slowly relaxed his posture until he was sitting cross-legged again, staring at his hands.

It was hard for Leann to be sure, but he appeared to be taking steady breaths.

RED: ………

RED: You said in the beginning you wanted to help show me what life is like. Prior to meeting you, I’ve never felt so alive.

RED: I was so used to being thrown into darkness repeatedly and being forgotten. But you haven’t done that. You’ve let me exist. You’ve let me live a little.

He looked up at her with a smile.

RED: I don’t think my mind has ever been this clear and I have you to thank for that. I may still be in pain, but I’m always in pain. This is the first time the pain’s ever felt dull, almost like it’s… fading.

RED: You haven’t exploited me or tried to hurt me, and I greatly appreciate that. I want you to know that if I ever got the chance, I’d like to return the favor.

This was the most he’d ever spoken in the couple months she’d known him. He’d never been so open before, nor had he been so vulnerable. Leann still may not have had a clue about how something like him could exist, but she knew he was getting better. Judging by the warm look on his face, he almost seemed a little bit happy. She couldn’t help but smile herself at the sight of Red looking so serene.

“I’m glad I’ve been able to help you, Red. I haven’t really felt like I’ve done much for you, so hearing this is really nice. Thank you.”

RED: You’re welcome.

RED: If you don’t mind, can we maybe talk about something else now? This whole thing was a bit depressing.

“Of course. What do you want to talk about?”

By now it was well into evening, the sun was setting, Leann’s parents were somewhere downstairs, and her and Red continued to converse about anything they could think of.

Part 10: here Part 12: here

[myopinionhi]

A Will Solace Character Analysis: the Underappreciated Soft Side

I've noticed many fanfictions have Will Solace OOC. So I’ve been thinking about aspects of Will’s personality fans seem to either gloss over or exaggerate. Here, this post is me doing an in-depth analysis explaining Will Solace’s canon personality in the books, and how it can sometimes differ from fanfictions. Sprinkled in this analysis are tips to fanfiction writers on how they write Will as more in-character.

There is one major aspect of Will that people seem to ignore or underemphasize. Nico best explains it when describing Will in this quote

Jason was a fighter. You could tell from the intensity of his stare, his constant alertness, the coiled-up energy in his frame. Will Solace was more like a lanky cat stretched out in sunshine. His movements were relaxed and nonthreatening, his gaze soft and far away. In his faded SURF BARBADOS T-shirt, his cutoff shorts and flip-flops, he looked about as aggressive as a demigod could get, but Nico knew he was brave under fire. During the Battle of Manhattan, Nico had seen him in action - the camp's best combat medic, risking his life to save wounded campers.

To sum it up, Will Solace is a very chill and calm character. A lot of writers make Will more irrational, impulsive, overbearing, and emotional than he actually is. Will is not the type of character to create drama unless he's, as Nico puts it, "under fire." In other words, the intense side of his personality doesn't come out unless the situation is urgent or dire.

Fans remember during the Second Giant War how he gets angry and argues with Nico over Nico's health and shadow-traveling, so many assume Will is going to be this fiery over a lot of other things regarding their relationship. For example, fanfic writers may make Will controlling or overly sensitive with Nico. However, keep in mind, Will gets heated with Nico during the Second Giant War because Nico's shadow-traveling is killing him. This is how Will describes Nico's dire state.

"Coach Hedge told me all about your shadow-travel. You can’t try that again."

"I just did try it again, Solace. I’m fine."

"No, you’re not. I’m a healer. I could feel the darkness in your hand as soon as I touched it. Even if you made it to that tent, you’d be in no shape to fight. But you wouldn’t make it. One more slip, and you won’t come back. You are not shadow-travelling. Doctor’s orders."

Will is a healer. When he touches Nico's hand, he can sense how little sleep and food Nico has been getting and how Nico's being taken over by darkness. Nico is on the verge of death and hasn't cared about his health for a long time. Nico is also stubborn about it, so Will has to be aggressive in order to save Nico's life. This aggressive behavior is not the norm for Will, but it can sometimes come out when he has to assert control in a life-or-death situation.

Will is a calming prescence. He's a diplomat. He stops violence on multiple occassions.

He's one of the few people who's able to calm Clarisse's violent rage, and he does so in a gentle manner.

Clarisse pointed her dagger at Rachel. "What about their allies, huh? Did you see that tribe of two-headed men that arrived yesterday? Or the glowing red dog-headed guys with the big poleaxes? They look pretty barbaric to me. It would’ve been nice if you’d foreseen any of that, if your Oracle power didn’t break down when we needed it most!"

Rachel’s face turned as red as her hair. "That’s hardly my fault. Something is wrong with Apollo’s gifts of prophecy. If I knew how to fix it –"

"She’s right." Will Solace, head counsellor for the Apollo cabin, put his hand gently on Clarisse’s wrist. Not many campers could’ve done that without getting stabbed, but Will had a way of defusing people’s anger. He got her to lower her dagger. "Everyone in our cabin has been affected. It’s not just Rachel."

One of the most underrated Will Solace moments is when he stops a bloody battle from happening between Camp Half-Blood and Camp Jupiter.  

But he knew it wouldn’t do any good. After weeks of waiting, agonizing and steaming, the Greeks and Romans wanted blood. Trying to stop the battle now would be like trying to push back a flood after the dam broke.

Will Solace saved the day.

He put his fingers in his mouth and did a taxicab whistle even more horrible than the last. Several Greeks dropped their swords. A ripple went through the Roman line like the entire First Cohort was shuddering.

"DON’T BE STUPID!" Will yelled. "LOOK!"

People are so used to seeing demigods, especially male demigods, being aggressive fighters that they can't wrap their heads around a brave and strong demigod who actively tries to avoid unnecessary conflict and destruction as much as he can.

And that's Will Solace's strength: he has the ability to prevent as much harm as possible.

Will is a difficult character to write. There's a lot of dueling factors with his personality. He's calm and pacifying while also being brave and assertive. He's fun and lighthearted while also being intelligent, logical, and grounded. He's laidback while also being responsible and hardworking. He's insecure but not melodramatic. He's very caring and protective but not pushy.

Will's personality confuses Nico sometimes too.

He’d always thought of Will as easygoing and laid back. Apparently he could also be stubborn and aggravating.

The trick to writing Will is to keep in mind his default personality is a soft and lighthearted character. Writers tend to overemphasize the hard side of his personality when his default personality is actually the soft side.

Think of the relaxing, lanky cat metaphor Nico uses for him. He and Nico bicker often, and it works for Will because he rolls with everything and doesn't take things too seriously. He's able to alleviate Nico's moodiness with humor, wittiness, groundedness, and patience. Nico affectionately calls Will a "dork" because Will usually keeps things light. Interestingly enough, he's able to be lighthearted without coming across as insensitive or an airheaded goofball, the latter of which is something Nico dislikes about Percy's personality. On a related sidenote, another way writers make Will OOC is they make him too dumb or too immature. I know I mentioned to focus on Will's soft side, but be careful to avoid that too. He's a SENSIBLE, lanky cat.

The way Will keeps his composure during a stressful situation by using laughter while still being mature is expressed well in this exchange with Apollo. (Yes, Will has a lot to manage.)

It was difficult to think of this young man as my son. He was so poised, so unassuming, so free of acne. He also didn’t appear to be awestruck in my presence. In fact, the corner of his mouth had started twitching.

“Are—are you amused?” I demanded.

Will shrugged. “Well, it’s either find this funny or freak out. My dad, the god Apollo, is a fifteen-year-old—”

“Sixteen,” I corrected. “Let’s go with sixteen.”

“A sixteen-year-old mortal, lying in a cot in my cabin, and with all my healing arts—which I got from you—I still can’t figure out how to fix you.”

“There is no fixing this,” I said miserably. “I am cast out of Olympus. My fate is tied to a girl named Meg. It could not be worse!”

Will laughed, which I thought took a great deal of gall. “Meg seems cool. She’s already poked Connor Stoll in the eyes and kicked Sherman Yang in the crotch.”

The fiercer side of Will's personality comes out only when the situation calls for it; this happens sometimes when he has to be a caring family member, a responsible healer, or a warrior in a dire situation. Even when he gets more forceful, he doesn't get more forceful than he has to.

Since Will has such a balanced and lighthearted personality, what are his flaws? What are the dark sides of his personality? There are four main things that stick out.

1. He's insecure about his self-perceived lack of abilities.

"I agree," Will said. "I wish I was a better archer … I wouldn’t mind shooting my Roman relative off his high horse. Actually, I wish I could use any of my father’s gifts to stop this war." He looked down at his own hands with distaste. "Unfortunately, I’m just a healer."

2. He sometimes struggles to endure the heavy responsibilities he has as a healer and as a protector to his family.

“I got it reattached,” Will told me, his voice shaky with exhaustion. His scrubs were speckled with blood. “I need somebody to keep him stable.”

I pointed to the woods. “But—”

“I know!” Will snapped. “Don’t you think I want to be out there searching too? We’re shorthanded for healers. There’s some salve and nectar in that pack. Go!”

I was stunned by his tone. I realized he was just as concerned about Kayla and Austin as I was. The only difference: Will knew his duty. He had to heal the injured first. And he needed my help.

3. He forces himself to bottle his emotions to keep his composure.

Will laughed under his breath. “I’m terrified. But one thing you learn as head counselor: you have to keep it together for everyone else. Let’s get you on your feet."

Here's a second example.

I rested my hand on Will’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. We’ll be back by dawn.”

His mouth trembled ever so slightly. “How can you be sure?”

4. He constantly worries about his loved ones.

Nico rested his hand on Will’s shoulder. “Apollo, we were worried. Will was especially.”

In conclusion, Will Solace's personality is difficult to get correct. But don't worry, if you write Will as a laidback, witty cat in your fanfics, I guarantee he'll be more in-character than many other fanfics with Will Solace.

(Note: I am only human. If you believe I'm misinterpreting some aspects of Will's personality, feel free to express it. What I say isn't 100 percent the right interpretation.)

[an-aussie-button-masher]

FROM SCRIPT TO SCREEN: FIVE OF GAMING’S BEST VOICE ACTING PERFORMANCES

   What’s the first thing people tend to look for when rating a video game? It’s usually the graphics, the controls, the writing, the soundtrack; those are the most common features critics tend to focus on. However, there’s another important part of many games that is often overlooked: voice acting. What good is strong writing if all the characters are droning on like they’re just flatly reading lines off a script? How interested can you get in a game when even the characters sound lifeless? Voice acting is a much more important aspect of video games than many people think, and it requires just as much acting talent as any big blockbuster film or your favourite TV series. You might even be surprised at how many “big-name” film actors also do video game acting, or how similar the two types of acting can be - voice-acting often involves just as much ad-libbing and physical movement as live-action acting. I’ve put together a list of five particularly standout voice performances in video games, from superhero action adventures to psychological puzzlers. If nothing else, maybe after you’ve read about the importance of voice actors in games here, you might notice them more often in your favourite games! Enjoy.

Kimberly-Sue Murray as Gamora (Marvel’s Guardians of the Galaxy)    For such a goofy, comedic, over-the-top game, Marvel’s Guardians of the Galaxy has some surprisingly moving moments. Certain characters that have been reduced to comic relief in the films, like Drax, are given story beats that demonstrate how serious and genuine they can truly be, and their respective voice actors really give it their all to create some truly touching scenes. Throughout the game there are several genuinely emotional scenes that are played straight without being undercut by gags, and Gamora’s voice actress Kimberly-Sue Murray absolutely masters these moments. There’s one scene in particular that gives a glimpse at how broken and haunted Gamora really is by her past as Thanos’ assassin, and Murray gives a marvellous performance of the on-the-verge-of-tears anger of the whole scene.

Kevan Brighting as the Narrator (The Stanley Parable)    This is the story of a Narrator named Kevan Brighting. The Stanley Parable is a game all about walking around a big empty office building, either doing what the Narrator says or going against the “script”. It might sound a bit dull on paper, but Brighting’s voice work makes it extremely engaging and memorable. It’s entirely up to his voice to carry the whole game from start to finish and back again a hundred times over, and he does an excellent job of it. The Narrator goes through a huge range of emotions across all the different endings - excitement, sadness, frustration, fear, rage; it can sometimes feel like the Narrator is a wholly different “person” from one ending to another. For purely a disembodied voice, Brighting demonstrates a brilliant talent at acting that will bring you back to the game a hundred times over.

Mark Hamill as the Joker (Batman: Arkham Asylum)    For those that find that name familiar, yes, that Mark Hamill. A lot of people might only know him as Luke Skywalker, and they’d be surprised to hear that he often voices Batman’s infamous archenemy since it’s such a completely different kind of performance. While I personally wasn’t impressed with a lot of the voice acting in Arkham Asylum, I have to say Hamill’s Joker absolutely steals the show. Hamill nails the entertainingly psychotic villain, and the fact that he sounds practically unrecognisable compared to his acting as Luke really says something about his impressive range. Joker’s constant maniacal giggling and sociopathic comments over the asylum’s loudspeaker gives him the most amount of lines in the game, which is definitely a good thing as I never got tired of his antics due to just how darkly hilarious they always were.

Christopher Judge as Kratos (God of War 2018)    Sometimes, with enough of a time skip between appearances, a character can seem like a totally different person - which is occasionally a good time to switch up voice actors to demonstrate their new personality. Kratos, the vengeful deity-butchering star of the God of War series, is an outstanding example of a new voice for a new demeanour. In the fourth entry to the series, released in 2018, Christopher Judge replaced T.C. Carson as the voice of Kratos to suit the older-and-wiser shift in characterisation. Judge voices Kratos with a much more stoic and solemn bearing, while still giving a cold and powerful gravitas to everything he says. Kratos’ fury is much more restrained (usually), but you can still clearly hear the repressed anger and deep-seated guilt from his violent past in his voice, and Judge perfectly captures all sorts of emotions without fully breaking the stone-faced seriousness of this new Kratos.

Dameon Clarke as Handsome Jack (Tales from the Borderlands)    Handsome Jack, one of the most prominent characters throughout the Borderlands series, is among the most well-known and popular antagonists in the gaming world. His charismatic and megalomaniacal nature makes him an extremely memorable villain, and Dameon Clarke’s performance is one of the biggest factors in Jack’s popularity. While his role as the main baddie in Borderlands 2 is the most famed, it’s in the spinoff game Tales from the Borderlands that I believe is his best portrayal. Clarke brings back the same manipulative and narcissistic jerkass act that fans know and love, and shows new sides of it with more vulnerable and genuine moments where it’s hard to tell if he’s actually mournful and regretful of his actions, or it’s just more manipulating and gaslighting. It’s best shown in Jack’s final moments in the ruins of the Helios station, constantly flip-flopping between red-hot murderous fury towards the main character Rhys and begging him not to “kill” him again.

   I hope you enjoyed a look at what I think are five of the best voice acting performances in video gaming! Of course, there are countless voice actors in countless games that would probably fit perfectly on this list, so if you have a favourite voice that you think deserves a spot here, let me know! Thanks for reading!

[startanewdream]

heyyyy, i was wondering if u could write something about james and sirius finding out about harry telling snape "theres no need to call me sir professor" its just the most iconic line from the books and i always thought james and Sirius would be v proud of harry and find it absolutely hilarious if they found out😭🤣

Heeeey! Now, there is no way I truly could make justice for this perfect line, but please enjoy this short homage to one of the best scenes ever, set during Christmas of Year 6.

___________________

Being a parent (means no fun)

Harry is wrapping a gift in his room when James knocks on the open door, holding a pile of clothes.

‘Fresh clothes’, he announces.

‘Can you leave on the bed? I will sort it out later’.

‘Sure — late Christmas gift?’, James asks, distracted.

‘Yeah, I — yeah’. There is something in his voice that makes James pause. He looks at the gift Harry just finished wrapping. He doesn’t know what it is, but the tag reads Ginny in a flourish caligraphy he never sees Harry using.

Hmmm. If only Harry would admit it, he thinks, but he just presses his lips, not saying anything. They — well, Lily — had agreed not to mention anything about his crush until their son talks about it first.

Harry leaves the gift on his desk with a guilty expression, avoiding his father’s eyes, and goes to pick up the clothes in his bed. James sits lazily on the couch by the window, waiting patiently. They are alone in his room — if Harry is looking for the best moment to confess his crush, this is it.

But the minutes drag on without Harry saying anything and his hope diminishes; Harry seeks really concentrated on sorting his clothes between what he is going to take back to Hogwarts and what he will keep at home. When he disregards his dress robes, James finds an opening.

‘So, how was old Slug’s party?’

‘Hum, what?’, Harry asks, looking flustered for some reason. ‘Good, I don’t know. Luna was fun, but it’s not my kind of party’.

‘Slughorn has invited you to his little club?’

‘Yeah’.

‘I figured so. He wouldn’t lose the chance of collecting you’.

Harry shudders. ‘Everyone wants the Chosen One?’, he asks, in a feeble attempt at a joke.

James smiles anyway. ‘Mostly because of who your mum is. You think I love her? You haven’t seen how Slughorn worships her’.

Harry laughs now. ‘Yeah, I’ve noticed it. He keeps comparing me to her’.

‘Wow, that’s a compliment if I've ever seen one’.

Again Harry looks flustered. His lips tremble as if he is on the verge of saying something, but he turns his gaze away. ‘My grades have gotten better’, he says nonchalantly. ‘But then Slughorn is a professor a lot better than Snape’.

‘It helps when your professor doesn’t hate you on principle’, James agrees, making Harry grin. ‘How are Slug’s dinners? Ginny is a member too, right?’

Harry lets the sock he is folding slip from his hand. He dives under the bed and emerges with his ears very red; James presses his lips again. Sometimes it’s really hard to stay quiet.

‘I — I don’t know. Maybe I should… if only Hermione wasn’t — I mean, Ginny is a member, but I haven’t been in any of Slughorn’s dinner’, he admits, sounding really miserable with the fact.

‘No?’, James asks, surprised. ‘How come? Your mother used to love these dinners’.

‘Oh, I —’, he rolls his eyes. ‘Ron can’t go, so I usually schedule a practice for the same night, you know. If I am not on detention with Snape, that’s it’.

Another rolling of eyes, with more disdain this time. 

James sighs. Be the parent, he tells himself.

‘Detention, Harry? I know Snape is not —’

‘He hates me’, Harry notes indifferently. ‘Nothing will change it, why bother? And in any case, it was worth it’.

There is a glint shining on his eyes now, so mischievous that almost seems wrong to be on the eyes he inherited from Lily. It’s a much more marauder’s glint.

James saw it a lot of times in his reflection on the mirror, always on Sirius’ face and even in Remus’ eyes, as innocent as he pretended to be.

‘What did you do?’

‘Oh, first class of DADA. He tried to hex me, I defended myself, and he got snape-ish, asking me if I had heard him saying we should practice non-verbal spells. I told him that yes and...’

‘And?’, he presses when Harry stays quiet, smirking more than ever.

‘And he answered me “yes, sir”, you know, all bossy, so I told him there was no need to call me sir’.

James’ lips tremble. 

Don’t laugh, he orders himself. You are the parent. You can’t support him being cheek with a professor.

But it’s Snape.

Still, you are the adult here.

He is a git.

Since when does this matter?

He deserved it.

Of course he did, that’s not the point.

Harry’s answer was really good.

With Lily as his mother, what did you expect?

Lily will approve it.

No, she won’t.

Not out loud. But her son being sassy? She will be proud. Why can’t I be proud? Please? Just a little?

You are proud, you just can’t show it. You are the parent here.

Being a parent is not fun.

Took you 16 years to figure this out?

James closes his eyes, pinching his nose and urging himself not to show any emotion at all. 

Be the parent. Be the parent. Be the parent.

‘You will be all year in detention if you don’t control your tongue’, he mumbles, voice weak.

‘Snape doesn’t control himself, why should I?’, Harry asks, and when James opens one eye he sees his son crossing his arms.

Be the parent. 

‘Because it will make your life easier’, James says, raising. ‘Well, I’ll let you rest. We leave tomorrow morning to the Burrow’.

‘Okay’, Harry shrugs.

James walks away calmly , closing the door to Harry’s room. He goes to his own room, closing the door as well; he picks up his wand and casts a Silence Charm on the door.

Then he allows himself to laugh.

______________

‘And then’, James says, tears of joy escaping from his eyes, ‘he told Snape there was no need to call him sir’.

‘Oh, Merlin!’, Sirius cries, doubling over with laughter. ‘I wish I were there to watch it! The pure boldness!’

‘Can you imagine his face?’

‘Ohhh, he must have hated it! Cheek from a Potter?’

‘Don’t put this on me, it’s all Lily’.

‘What is my fault?’, Lily asks distractedly, entering the room. James’ smile dies. Ops. He doesn’t really want to share it with Lily — if she argues with Harry —

‘Harry’s cheekiness’, Sirius replies without any shame, offering her a goblet with eggnog. ‘He has James’ look, but your spirit’.

‘Tell me something I don’t know. Why this time?’

James throws a betrayed look at Sirius before sighing. ‘Lily, love, now don’t be mad, he already got a detention for it —’

She raises her eyebrows. ‘What Harry has done now?’

‘Well, you see, Snape was being his usual self —’

‘Oh, is the no need to call me sir, professor? He told me ages ago’.

James blinks. ‘You were not upset?’

‘Of course I was, I’m his mother, I had to be’. She drinks from her cup, that mischievous glint on her eyes too, complimented by the most kissable smirk James has ever seen on her lips. ‘But, really, I could not have retorted it better’.

James decides he can’t love her more than he does now.

‘Oh, James, Lily’, Sirius sighs, placing his arms around their shoulders, bringing them close and drying dramatically a tear from his eyes. ‘I’m so proud of you. You raised your son so well’.

[honeymoonjin]

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 6.6k || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+

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ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: mentions of sexual content

A/N: please do tell me your thoughts on this chapter ! lots of things are going on at once and you may not be happy with me about all of them fskjfksdfjsd

DAY TWENTY-FIVE

You wake up to hair tickling your nose. Flinching away automatically, you’re met with the sight of Taehyung’s distinctive curls as he snores against your chest. His weight presses you against the bed, one of his hands tucked around the nape of your neck and a leg hooked over your hip. Even though Tae was a cuddler, this was closer than he tended to be.

Coming to sit on the side of the bed above you, you catch sight of Jimin leaning in with a fond, albeit sleep-deprived smile to ruffle Taehyung’s hair and then gently buff you on the cheek. You can’t help but return his smile, but it only takes a moment for the reminders of reality to flood back into your mind.

Jimin, already fully-dressed and with subtle sweeps of pearlescent silver on his lids, frowns at your change in demeanour. “He’ll be okay,” he whispers, not needing to ask you what’s on your mind.

You nod, careful not to jostle the sleeping man on your chest. Part of you just wants to fall back unconscious with him until things are back to normal, though the thought of going into town to visit Yoongi gives you something to stay awake for. “Are the others up?”

“Not yet,” Jimin mumbles, glancing towards the door as if he could see them from his spot on the bed. “I wanted to let them sleep. I’ve been messaging hyung.”

Fighting the urge to sit up, your eyes widen. “Is he doing okay?”

Jimin shrugs. “I doubt he’d admit over text if he wasn’t, but he seemed hopeful. His father is starting to stay awake for longer bouts of time, almost enough to hold a conversation.”

“That’s good,” you respond in a small voice, though it’s just a guess, your voice lilting at the end in uncertainty. You didn’t know anything about heart attacks, had never been confronted by them in your life, and could only assume that responsiveness was a positive sign.

Taehyung shifts on top of you, and you freeze, waiting for him to adjust himself, grumble a bit, and continue snoozing.

Jimin quirks a smile, gets up, and makes his way around to your side of the bed. Lying on top of the covers, he turns his face to you, so close you feel the tip of his nose bump yours. “Y/n,” he starts off slowly, eyes swimming in some unreadable emotion.

You find yourself unable to break the gaze. “Mm?”

“I don’t want to wait.”

Your brows furrow. “Wait for what? The others?”

“No, no,” he dismisses, plush lips protruding a little in insistence. “I… This has me thinking. The whole situation with Yoongi’s father, I mean. I can’t imagine any of us here are exactly at risk of heart failure, but it does make me think about just how much is left up to fate.” He drops his eyes, then, tilting onto his back to stare up at the ceiling. You feel a nudge on the back of your hand, and look down to see Taehyung unconsciously reaching out, wrapping his fingers around yours. When you look up, Jimin still hasn’t continued. His jaw works, like he’s toying with the right words to say.

When he finally speaks, his voice is a low, smooth murmur, barely loud enough for the two of you to hear. “Our plan of waiting until we can date like normal seemed logical at the time. But I care so much about the two of you. Too much. It seems foolish to postpone anything just to play it safe.”

You blink, stunned by the vulnerability in his voice and the words it delivers. “So… What are you saying, Jimin?”

He swivels, quick enough to jiggle the bed, and Taehyung whines against your collarbone, slowly beginning to rouse from sleep. Jimin doesn’t notice, his eyes burning twin fires as he leans in close again. “I don’t want to wait to tell you I love you.”

“I love you too,” you whisper back without hesitation. Jimin’s hands reach out gently to cup the sides of your face so tenderly, eyes crinkling, and suddenly you feel the sting of tears. Taehyung’s weight begins to shift and lift off of you, rolling onto the other side of the bed, and the sudden change has you feeling unmoored. “This is going to get messy, Jimin. You know that.”

“What’s going to get messy?” Beside you, Taehyung pushes himself up onto one elbow, blearily rubbing at his eyes.

Instead of responding, Jimin’s teeth peek out from a grin as he launches himself over you and collides with Taehyung mouth-first, gripping his t-shirt and holding him close for a few, meaningful moments.

When they break apart audibly, Taehyung looks stunned still, and Jimin lets out a disbelieving laugh, like he can’t even process his own enthusiasm. “Tae-tae, I love you,” he announces in visible delight, smile stretching.

Taehyung’s eyes widen and glisten, and his fingers jump up to wrap around Jimin’s wrist. “Minnie,” he breathes, and the three words that follow don’t need to be voiced for you - and Jimin - to hear them.

Straightening up further and turning to address the both of you, Jimin looks like a mad scientist on the verge of a breakthrough, his previously coiffed appearance looking decidedly rumpled. “It- I don’t care if it’s messy,” he confesses, “I don’t. And I don’t care that it’s scary, or that I don’t know what I’m doing when it comes to- to this, or that we’re still in the show. You make me happy, both of you, and I love both of you, and…” He cuts himself off to swallow and suck in a breath, fingers clenching in the fabric of Tae’s shirt that he never let go of. “And I think I deserve to have this.”

When he puts it like that, you have no rebuttals. Sitting up to meet him halfway, you seek out his lips and let your eyes fall closed to savour the closeness.

Jimin kisses you like he never has before. It’s free, unfiltered, and not in the greedy, intense way he kissed you when you were scening together. Jimin kisses you like he’s entirely liberated, like he could spend an eternity with his lips joined to yours, unhurried and assured.

Your lungs lighten with a lack of oxygen, but you refuse to part from the softness of his embrace until you’re physically tugged out of it.

Taehyung pouts up at you, tilting his chin up. Even as he feigns being playful, you know what he’s asking for, and it’s more than just a kiss.

You turn to him, bending until your cheek is pressed to his. “Taehyungie, I love you,” you profess into his ear, lips curled at just how true it is, at how light it makes you feel to say it.

“That’s a relief,” he mumbles, pulling back just enough to give you an indulgent yet chaste kiss, mouthing the words I love you too against your mouth. With a dreamy sigh, he collapses back onto the mattress and bats his eyes up at Jimin. “I hope this confession doesn’t make you too soppy.”

“And why is that?” Jimin asks, a hand lazily running up and down Taehyung’s side, skimming his hip and dipping beneath his shirt to rub his soft stomach.

Arching into the touch like a pleased pet, Taehyung shrugs in mock-innocence. “Y/n and I still need someone to rail us,” he states. “When is mean Minnie going to come out again?”

Jimin’s eyes glint at the prospect, and suddenly you see the expression of the man who originally entered the Villa. The cocksure, unforgiving dom who had you weak at the knees from the start. If it didn’t send a spark of arousal through you, you’d probably be impressed at how naturally he brings it to the surface. “If you’re needing a little discipline, Taehyung, you only have to ask. I won’t be so soft on you next time. I hope you don’t regret it.”

Shameless, Taehyung pouts and whines deep in his throat, wrapping his lower half around where Jimin’s seated. “Well, don’t do it now,” he scolds in a small voice, “it’s not fair making me horny before we go to the hospital. You better fix this.”

The mention of the hospital sobers you all up a bit, but Jimin just furrows his brow down at Taehyung, pushing him flat on his back with a single strong hand, and using that same hand to palm roughly at Taehyung’s crotch, a tent beginning to form in the boxer shorts Tae had worn to bed.

Taehyung keens, but lays back obediently and lets Jimin massage him to full hardness, heavy breaths pushed out of his nose.

“Come on, then,” Jimin says after a moment and removes his hand entirely to stand up, ignoring Taehyung’s indignant gasp, “let’s take a shower and get that little demon back under control. Y/n?”

“It’s not little,” Taehyung grumbles under his breath as he gets up and hobbles toward the bathroom with a visible erection.

You sit up, shaking your head at Jimin’s question. “I want to check on the others when they wake and let them know we’re visiting Yoongi today. Maybe pack some of the leftovers in the fridge so the Min family have some decent food there.”

Jimin hums in acknowledgement, half-turns as if to leave, then freezes, waiting until Taehyung disappears inside the bathroom, turning the shower on with inaudible muttering. “Y/n,” he starts, huffing out a breath and letting his shoulders relax. “I know it’s not only us.”

You cock your head to the side in confusion. “Huh?”

He sends you a smile, halfway between shared humour and resignation. “You really should tell Yoongi-hyung.”

Before you can process the response, he’s in the bathroom and shutting the door behind him.

Down in the kitchen, Jin has bet you to the leftovers, bent over the counter with a red-stained pair of chopsticks hovering above the bowl. Mouth full, he puffs his cheeks in a smile of greeting.

You slink behind him to grab a mug for coffee, admiring the broad planes of his shoulder blades beneath a fine knit sweater. “I was going to bring those for the Mins today,” you say with a mock sigh, mind already straining to think of what else you could bring.

Jin is one step ahead of you. Without pausing his chewing, he props himself up on his elbow and points the set of chopsticks at the dining room table, which you didn’t notice is laden with tupperware containers, stocked with different foods. “Couldn’t sleep,” he states after finishing his mouthful. “What time are we heading in?”

You shrug, using the coffee machine to brew a cup entirely on auto-pilot. “Jimin and Taehyung are awake, but I’m not sure about the others. Let’s wait a bit and then check in with Yoongi.”

With a slow nod, Jin carefully sets his chopsticks down, balancing on the brim of the bowl. “You worried me last night,” he admits softly.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he rebuts without hesitation, turning to offer you his open arms. Abandoning the coffee, you step forward into his embrace, the tension in your muscles loosening the second he tugs you in closer with a strong arm around the small of your back. If he tilts his chin up, he can rest it on the top of your head, and you smother a giggle at the odd feeling of it moving against you as he continues to talk. “All that matters is that you’re okay. Are you okay?”

You melt against his chest, linking your hands around the back of his neck to return the hug. “Mostly,” you say after a moment.

Jin hums, making no move to break apart the hug, and begins to gently rock the two of you back and forth, free hand running lazy figure eights up and down your back. “I’ll take it. Maybe after we visit Yoongi, you’ll be a little more okay.”

“I think so,” you murmur into his sweater. Truth be told, you feel so safe and at peace in Jin’s unhurried embrace that you feel somewhat better already. Closing your eyes to enjoy the slow swaying, you let go of the thought that’s been festering in the back of your mind for a while now. “Does it feel like everything’s falling apart to you? Not- not all at once and dramatic, but like we’re all unraveling on a single thread.”

When Jin sucks in a deep breath, his chest puffs and jostles you slightly. “I understand what you mean. I don’t think it is, though.”

“You don’t?” Suddenly, the snug grip around you loosens, and Jin pulls back to release you from his hold, hands slipping down to link with yours. You miss his warmth immediately, feeling slightly unsteady on your feet. “But Yoongi might not come back. And- And I voted you off and now I’ll have to keep voting you off and it just feels worse every time, and it feels like nobody is really doing this just for the competition anymore and... “ You find yourself falling short, unable to articulate your thoughts. Jin waits patiently, his deep brown eyes watching you kindly. “I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. For everything to turn sour.”

“It might,” Jin admits, gaze darting up and around in thought, until it catches on the coffee machine, sputtering out the last few drops. He squeezes your hands reassuringly before letting them go, and moves over to grab the coffee cup as he continues talking, pouring some milk from the fridge just how you like it. “But then again, it might not. I think focussing on that worry too much will only make it more likely to happen, or will at least prevent you from enjoying the good things to come.”

“Maybe.” You take your coffee from him with a grateful smile, though you’re still not convinced. “How do I just ignore that dread, then?”

Jin leans back against the counter top, shrugging with a thoughtful look on his face. “We have no control over whether Yoongi returns or not. The best we can do is support him through a difficult time. Then, even if he doesn’t come back to the show, I’m sure we’ll stay close. That’s what you really fear, isn’t it? That this house is the only thing tying us together?”

Taking a sip of the coffee, you nod silently. Even hearing Jin say it aloud strikes a note in your heart, and the pang of Yoongi’s absence flares up with it.

The therapist just gives you a warm, genuine smile. “Then I have good news, Y/n. It’s not true. Ask any one of us. The grounds we met may have been set up, but it’s far beyond that now, and I think you feel that yourself, deep down. At the very least, I fully intend to bless you with my companionship for the rest of your life. You aren’t getting rid of me that easily.”

Despite yourself, you let out a surprised laugh, and feel your worries ease. “As long as you still cook for me sometimes,” you bargain, and Jin mock-winces, before reaching out to link your pinky fingers together in promise. “You have a deal,” he declares, moments before you hear a rolling thunder of feet banging down the stairs.

Practically tumbling into the kitchen, Hoseok, Taehyung, and Jungkook barrel into each other with heavy breaths. All three have jackets on and are holding pairs of shoes, like they’re ready for a school trip. Jimin and Namjoon join behind them a few moments later, far more calmer than the formers, but are equally dressed-up.

“Guys!” Jungkook pants, hand whirling at the door like he’s directing traffic. “We gotta go!”

“Is Yoongi okay?” you ask immediately, heart skipping a beat at the fearful looks on their faces.

“No,” Taehyung says in a frantic, thick voice, “hyung said the hospital served him plain toast and orange juice for breakfast. With pulp! We gotta get something to him and his family fast, that’s like prison food!”

A heavy breath whooshes out of your lungs, and your body goes weak, nearly tipping your coffee over by the handle. “Jesus, don’t scare me like that! Okay, let me just get my jacket and we can head there. Jin already made some food.”

You’re just reaching the doorway before Namjoon sucks in a dramatic gasp. You turn around to watch him raise a hand to cover his mouth, looking around at all of you.

“How… How are we going to get there? We don’t have a car, and Sejin isn’t here today.”

Jimin’s shoulders sink, and his eyes fall shut in visible pain. “Shit. Then we only have one choice.”

Taehyung frowns and reaches back to rub Jimin’s shoulders in encouragement. “Hey, how bad can it be?”

Jimin stiffens and glares out the window as a beefy stranger in sweaty workout clothes bumps into him after the bus takes a tight left turn. “Hey, hyung?”

Jin, with one hand in his pants pocket and the other on one of the overhead loops, glances up. “Yeah?”

“I don’t suppose you’d have room for one more patient at your practice?”

With a click of his tongue, Jin shakes his head. “You’ll survive, Your Majesty.” The bus  hits a road bump at speed, sending the gym rat knocking into Jimin, pinning him against the side of the bus, before using Jimin’s shoulder to catch his balance again. Instead of apologising, the man gives a short laugh and moves back, lifting a hand up to grab onto the bar and exposing the dark sweat stain on his armpit. Jin’s face goes pale. “Tuesdays at seven.”

The professional porn star grits his teeth, staring past Jin’s broad shoulders to the scrolling LED display at the front of the bus, an automated voice announcing the stop in unison to the text running across the screen. “We’re the next stop,” he declares with a shiver of relief. “Come on; I’m heading to the doors.”

With a brute determination, Jimin winds past high school students, office workers and small families alike, collecting you all on the way. Most of you had managed to get seats together or sitting next to strangers, but Jimin and Jin were the last ones to get on (Jimin out of sheer reluctance, Jin because he’d taken on the role of counting heads) and missed out on the luxury of sitting down.

The bus driver truly had no qualms about speeding through the streets of Seoul, shaking the metal carriage from side to side with abandon. It was nothing you weren’t used to, but for Jimin, his first time riding a bus certainly didn’t seem to be a pleasant or tolerable one.

Before long, you’re on steady ground again, breathing in the cool air outside Severance Hospital. Now so close to Yoongi again, you feel anxious to get inside and find him, but Jin insists on double-checking you’re all still in one group. Once he’s satisfied, he leads from behind and you make your way to the front entrance of the massive building.

Inside, the lady at the reception directs you to the cafeteria, where Yoongi said he’d meet you. Secretly relieved that you weren’t going to his father’s hospital room, you make your way there and pick two tables by the windows, pushing them together to make enough room for the eight of you.

Even just counting the eight chairs has your eyes pricking, and you find yourself unable to sit still waiting for Yoongi. A single day feels like a lifetime of anxiety, and even as you and Taehyung watch Jungkook play a game on his phone with running commentary, your gaze keeps darting to the automatic doors every five seconds.

Because of your intense vigilance, it’s you who spots him first, the mop of dirty blonde hair (the mint barely still clinging to the ends) catching your eye the second the doors open.

You get up without words, leaving the group. Noticing your sudden absence, you hear them the moment they see Yoongi waving shyly and tiredly, but you have a few metres advantage, and it’s you who meets him halfway before anyone else.

It’s all you can do to hold yourself back from running in the hospital cafeteria, but by the time you get close enough to see the puffiness under his eyes, you dash the last few steps and wrap him in a tight hug, burying your face into the crook of his neck.

Your heart is racing wildly, and you can feel an unmatched but equally frantic rhythm beat against you too, Yoongi holding onto you just as strongly.

“Oh, sweetheart. I’ve missed you.”

His voice brings tears to your eyes, harsh and unforgiving, and you have to fight the tremble in your lip to return the sentiment. You feel arms around you from behind, the pressure increasing as the others join the hug. The vulnerable tone of Jungkook, Namjoon’s broad hand on your shoulder, the relieved sigh from Taehyung, Jimin’s deceptively strong body weaving into the center. There’s an absence, still, and you all break apart the group hug after a few moments, seeking the final member out.

To your surprise, Jin is only a step behind you all. Preventing him from joining the hug, however, are the tears wetting his face and blurring his vision, eyes squeezed shut in an unsuccessful attempt to stem the wave of emotion. He sobs silently, breaths uneven and shoulders shaking, trying to wipe his face with clumsy hands but only soaking them too, knuckles pressed to his eyes.

Yoongi lets out a wounded noise, hurrying forward despite him exhaustion. “Hyung, hey, shh, I’m here.” He hooks onto Jin around his waist with one arm and gently tugs one of Jin’s hands away from his reddening face, pressing it to Yoongi’s own cheek in an invitation to look at him. “I’m okay. I’m here now, I’m with you.”

Jin hiccups, visibly fighting to calm down as he blinks through streaming eyes to look down at the younger man. “It wasn’t the same,” he sniffles, “it’s not right without you.” He takes in a single, laboured breath and swallows the thickness in his throat, slowly settling with Yoongi in his arms. “Is your dad okay?”

Yoongi lets out a laugh of disbelief, pulling Jin back towards the tables you’d been waiting at. The rest of you migrate there too, nobody wanting to let Yoongi get too far. “He’s doing fine, actually. Fine for a Min, at least. Near-death experience and he’s already getting my older brother to get him tickets for the Samsung Lions game next week.”

The eight of you sit, finally filling all the chairs the way it should be. Jin takes some tissues from Hoseok’s small satchel to clean up his face, nodding soberly. “That’s really good to hear, Yoongi-ah. All of us were so worried.”

Pressing his lips together in a sad smile, Yoongi looks around at you all. “I was too. I- I really appreciate you all coming in to visit. Dad’s recovering, but… it’s still scary. They’re keeping him here for a bit longer, and after that he’s going to live with my brother for a bit since he lives closer.”

Hoseok, on the other side of Yoongi, leans in for a side hug, pouting. “I can’t even imagine. How are the others holding up?”

“Mom’s doing okay. She’s always been the strongest out of all of us. Yoonji took it really hard. Her and dad have always been the closest. She hasn’t left his bedside since we got here. She says to say hi, though.”

Your heart aches for the poor girl, unable to picture her so despairing after how she’d been in her short time at the Villa. There’s a question on your tongue, but you feel hesitant about bringing it up at the wrong time.

Jungkook, however, has no such concerns, sitting beside you, opposite Yoongi, with bambi eyes. “Does that mean you’re coming back home, hyung?”

Yoongi lets out a small breath at the use of home, and nods after a moment. “Tomorrow, I think. I haven’t talked to Sejin about it yet.”

Jin presses his lips together. “Leave that up to us, Yoongi-ah, just focus on you and your family right now. Oh! That reminds me-” he pushes the bulging grocery bag down the table to Yoongi. “That’s for you all to have. Taehyung told me the food here wasn’t so good.”

“You didn’t have to,” Yoongi breathes, eyes wide as he glances between his hyung and the stacked tupperwares, “but thank you. I’m sure they’ll love your cooking as much as I do.”

“Ah, now you’re laying it on too thick,” Jin deflects with a wave of his hand, though you catch the pink in the tips of his ears. His eyes are still reddened, and when the attention is off him you think you catch his lip tremble a few times, but other than that he seems to have settled down again, relieved just as you are to have Yoongi in your company again.

Jungkook, on the other hand, hasn’t looked away from Yoongi for a single second, eyes wide and focused in as if he might vanish at any moment. The rest of you chat about how strange it is to be outside of the show, and how long ago that first night now feels, but Jungkook offers up nothing. He’s across from Yoongi, Taehyung lazily tugging his hand into his lap and leaning on his shoulder, but even that doesn’t deter his watchful gaze.

It’s not until Yoongi is sharing a story about the horror on his brother’s face when they received their first meal at the hospital that suddenly Jungkook is pitching forward in his seat, elbows crashing on the slightly wobbly cafeteria table. “Hyung!” he blurts, cutting the elder off mid-sentence.

Yoongi’s brows lift in shock, eyes darting to the youngest. “Yeah, Jungkookie?”

“Can I- can we, uh talk in private?” Jungkook swallows, looking smaller and more vulnerable than usual, wearing a zip-up hoodie that’s entirely too big for him and with his hair tucked behind his ears. After Yoongi acquiesces, the two disappear down a hall that leads to a private outdoor smoking area, leaving the remaining six of you in confused silence.

“What was that all about?” Hoseok asks after a moment, glancing back and forth at all of you. “Did I miss something?”

“I think we all missed something,” Namjoon responds quietly, equally befuddled. “Jungkook did seem pretty distressed.”

Taehyung, without a shoulder to lean on, sits up and tries to bury his worries. “Let’s just wait and see what happens when they get back. If it’s important, I’m sure they’ll tell us, right?”

“Maybe they’re just re-enacting The Bachelor,” Jin theories, “if Jungkook comes back with a single rose, be suspicious.” He pauses, eyes narrowed in thought. “Or Yoongi’s fly was down and Jungkook didn’t want to embarrass him in front of everyone. There are too many variables here.”

“They could be planning a surprise birthday party for one of us,” Hoseok offers up.

“Or one of us has been replaced by an alien and Yoongi is the only one Jungkook can trust,” Taehyung suggests, voice wary.

“Or they’re elo-” Jimin cuts himself off, head darting to the side. “Oh, here they come. Yeah, they definitely just eloped.”

The two guilty parties are doing a miserable job of playing casual. As they approach the table again, Yoongi is in front with red cheeks and bright eyes, surreptitiously pressing his lips together, and Jungkook is trailing behind with a hand fisted in the fabric of Yoongi’s shirt, unable to contain his grin.

“So…” Hoseok trails off meaningfully, beaming at the two of them. “When’s the honeymoon?”

Jungkook’s smile drops, replaced by genuine confusion. “Huh?”

Hoseok blinks. “Didn’t you two just-?”

“Just what?” Shaking off his frown, Jungkook cheers up again. “Hyung is letting me stay in the hospital overnight!”

“What?” you blurt out incredulously, not expecting that to be the reasoning for the strange meeting.

“I’ve never stayed overnight before,” Jungkook gushes, feet tapping on the floor tile in excitement, “and I read somewhere that the fourth floor is haunted. But you need to either be the one in hospital or be family for them to let you stay. Yoongi’s gonna vouch for me and say I’m his brother.”

“In exchange for…” Yoongi starts emphatically, eyes intense and serious.

Jungkook huffs, but it doesn’t dampen his obvious thrill. “In exchange for buying Yoongi lamb skewers from the restaurant down the street tonight and tomorrow morning. What a deal, right?”

Taehyung perks up, eyes wide. “Wait, can I stay too? I wanna see the ghosts!”

“There are no ghosts in the-” Jin begins with a sigh, but Jungkook interrupts, placing a gentle hand on Taehyung’s shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, hyung,” he murmurs softly, “but the doctors would never believe you’re one of the Mins. You’re too hot.”

Yoongi’s mouth drops open in apparent offense, before he cocks his head to the side. “You do realise you’re also insulting yourself, right, Jungkook?”

“Listen, that’s not important now,” Jungkook insists simply. “Tae-tae-hyung, I promise I’ll facetime you from the fourth floor. Be ready for the witching hour.”

Taehyung swallows in reverence and nods. “I’ll be waiting.”

“Oh my god,” Yoongi mutters under his breath, pinching his brow. “What have I signed up for?”

By the time conversation naturally starts to die off, your social batteries draining, it’s time for Yoongi (and Jungkook, apparently) to go back up to the room for dinner. The remaining six of you make your way home on the bus with distinctly less fanfare than when you arrived, all a little exhausted from the onslaught of public spaces after being in the Villa for so long.

It’s weird how tiring it is just being in society, even when you weren’t really interacting with anyone else. But everyone seems to breathe a sigh of relief when you let yourselves in the front door and collapse in the living room inside, Jin making some coffee and the rest of you taking a moment to rest your weary feet.

The absence is still felt, even more so with Jungkook gone too, but it’s far less distressing. Instead, the quiet is a little calming, like a lazy day in after a stressful week. Jimin and Taehyung head upstairs early, and you let them go alone, sensing they’re wanting some time to themselves.

Downstairs, Jin, Hoseok, Namjoon and you spread out on two couches, cradling hot mugs to wake you up a little. It’s easy enough to sit in silence for a bit, but then Hoseok is sitting up, biting on his lip.

“If Yoongi-hyung is coming back tomorrow,” he starts softly, “then what does that mean for all of this? Do we just… start it back up? The competition, I mean.”

“I guess so,” you venture. “But we can’t exactly start a week on a Friday. Maybe Sejin will wait for Monday?”

“Eh, it’s all the same to me,” Jin quips. “Not much skin in the game anymore, huh?”

A flash of guilt strikes your face as you recall only days ago the way he’d been so blindsided by your elimination. It was hard to say if you regretted the decision; you’d originally hoped taking the competition out of the equation would make things simpler, but the fallout that followed and the unsteady peace between the two of you doesn’t really feel worth it. Despite that, there was no easy choice, and for all you know the exact thing could happen with whoever you vote out. You just wish you had some conviction for it.

Jin notices your expression and frowns, but before he can open his mouth, Namjoon pitches in. “I’m kind of dreading going back to it,” he admits, scratching at his knee through a small hole in his pants, “but at the same time I wish we could go back to it already. At least it was consistent. This whole break just makes me anxious.”

“It definitely isn’t fun,” Hoseok supports, sending Namjoon a reassuring smile. “But hyung said he’s coming back tomorrow, and Sejin has been good to us so far. Let’s have some faith that it’ll turn out fine!”

You bite down hard on your tongue. Even if it turns out fine, there’s only so much time you’ll have before you’ll have to boot another man out of the running of the game. Hoseok, Jimin, Yoongi, Jungkook or Namjoon. Despite everyone feeling that your bond is stronger than just circumstance, you know it’s impossible not to take that decision personally, and you’re dreading going back to it.

Though, deep down - and it flares that guilt even stronger to think of it - part of you is growing restless, fidgety at having suddenly been deprived of the physical pleasures you’d grown used to receiving in such abundance. It’s only been two days, and you feel stupid for even noting your body’s yearning after such a short time, but it’s nonetheless there, and at least if you went back on schedule, you’d be able to indulge again.

Things felt so somber and serious when all you had were those swirling emotions, and no way to release them. But it feels wrong to even think about pursuing anything when the whole status of the group is on rocky footing.

“You’re thinking too hard.” The voice tugs you unceremoniously out of your haze with a gentle shove to accompany it. Jin, sitting beside you, has scooted closer to eye you with a warm albeit slightly concerned gaze. “What’s on your mind?”

“Everything,” you admit, and Namjoon makes a noise of agreement from the other couch. Hoseok has an arm slung over his shoulders, and you blink in surprise at the casual contact the two of them are sharing. Neither of them have seemed to be the touchy type since you’ve met them, but they appear perfectly comfortable. You make a mental note to keep an eye on them, but it quickly dissolves in your brain the moment Jin puts a hand on your knee and gently squeezes it.

“Hey,” he buffs in a low voice, “let’s get some fresh air, yeah? You boys up to join? It’s still warm out.”

“We’ll head up,” Hoseok says after a glance shared with Namjoon, “it’s been a long day.”

“That it has.” Jin squeezes your knee once more and gets up as the two others heave themselves off the couch and thud upstairs. Holding out a hand to you, the eldest helps you up and leads you out back, linking your arms tightly and walking side-by-side with you out the back door.

The stars are blocked from view by cloud, but the moon provides enough waxy light to see by, the grass glinting silver. Like two lovers from a Jane Austen book taking a turn around a room, the two of you begin a lap around the expansive backyard, following the path.

“This feels very cheesy,” you admit to Jin, glancing up at him with a bemused smile. If you’re honest with yourself, the distinct oddity of wandering around a lawn late at night for no apparent reason is enough to distract you from your worries.

Jin returns your smile broadly, and presses you a little closer to his side. “All the more fun, don’t you think? The cameras aren’t even on. We can actually enjoy the privacy for once.”

You sigh out filaments of tension with every breath, the cooler night air easing your lungs. “That’s true. I haven’t actually come out here often.”

“I noticed. Afraid of the sun?”

“Oh, please,” you defend, “if either of us is a vampire it’s clearly you.”

Taking a few, quiet steps, Jin hums calmly, then suddenly lunges for your throat. A startled yelp leaves you as his face buries in the crook of your neck, and your shoulders rise up to wiggle away from the cold tip of his nose. “St-ah-stop!”

He pulls back, satisfied at his own joke and how effectively it caught you by surprise, but the adrenaline from the sudden fright has you giggling hopelessly, using your free hand to press against your mouth.

“Oh my god, you’re so mean,” you whine, but there’s only playful pouting in your tone, no real malice.

Jin clicks his tongue, entirely unruffled as if he’d never launched himself at you. “What can I say? Daddy is getting old, I think I’d prefer being called Sire.”

You splutter on air, reaching over to whack him. “Be careful what you wish for. I know several kinky little shits in this house that would take you up on that.”

“Strange,” Jin muses, “that you seem to think you’re not one of them.” He sends a smirk down at you, but as you stare up at him too, the gaze softens. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I shouldn’t make those jokes when we can’t actually- Never mind.”

Without intending to, you come to a stop, stepping across from him so you can see him head-on. “The cameras aren’t on,” you point out. “The show is paused.”

Jin’s brows come together, his lids lowering. “Y/n…”

“We could. Not even the- the whole kinky thing, just…” You bite down on your tongue at the reluctance on Jin’s face. “If you wanted to.”

He exhales raggedly, stepping closer and placing his broad hands on the sides of your shoulders. “Of course I want to,” he says, enunciating each word with intentioned care, “but you voted me off, Y/n.”

A chill runs through you, though the air is unchanged. “But Jin, the- we aren’t- that doesn’t matter, the show isn’t even-”

“I understand that,” he allows, closing his eyes briefly with a slight shake of the head, “but I’m going to respect your decision, even if you don’t. I want to do this the right way.”

Your heart sinks, unable to be mad even as humiliation stings your cheeks red. “I don’t even know when the show will end, it could be longer because of this break.”

“And I’m a patient man,” Jin states. You can feel the finality in the air. His choice wasn’t going to change, and you no longer have the energy to try. Instead, you just nod silently, missing the atmosphere only five minutes ago when you hadn’t put yourself on the line and gotten rejected.

His hands on your shoulders feel hot, anchoring you, and acknowledging them only makes your eyes prick more, wishing you could feel his whole body against you again. Knowing that you - god, that you loved him - and that he felt strongly about you too, but that you’d voted him out just to make things easier… It didn’t feel easy now. It didn’t feel worth it now.

“I think it’s time for me to go to bed now,” you say hollowly. You can’t imagine sleep will come kindly, but you feel the desire to be alone and bury yourself deep under the covers until morning. Perhaps longer.

Before you can pull away, Jin leans in, and your heart stops.

With eyes fluttering closed instinctively, you feel lips press chastely, but meaningfully against your cheekbone, before a soft whisper wishes you goodnight.

When he stands up again, you open your eyes and blink harshly, willing the pooling tears not to fall before you’re out of his sight. Emotion is swelling and crashing inside you like a storm at sea, and all you can manage is to choke out, “that’s not fair,” before you’re rushing across the grass, uncaring if your socks get dirty or stained, and barreling up the stairs with tears rendering your vision useless.

[rinstars]

𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 — 𝐬.𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮 (𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞)

pairing: suna rintarou x reader

genre/trope: angst, unrequited love, forbidden love

warnings: nsfw, profanity, infidelity, mentions of weed/drugs, intoxication

description: you knew you never meant to him as much as he meant to you.. yet deep down, you still hoped his heart also breaks with every single goodbye and the regrets of the past clings to him a lot more than he let you believe.

note: this is a repost of 'the call' where i changed and added a few things to make it fit as a prologue better, so make sure u still read it. i'll do this series at my own pace so please just be patient! i'll open the taglist so just send me an ask if you want to be tagged hehe.

The smell of leather and weed floating in the space surrounding you constricts your breathing, making you gasp for air – even more as he suctions the air out of you through your heated shared kiss, your lungs burning with the need for oxygen. But you ignore it. Running your fingers through his hair and meeting his hunger with kisses equally as rough, you ignore the building pain on your chest.

You rock your hips towards him, feeling his hard crotch rub you through the lace of the panties you bought just a few days ago. Pulling away for a moment only to gasp on his reddening plump lips while he lazily guides your movements on his lap, triggering a flood of pleasure wash over you.

Slender, pale, and long fingers reached over to snatch another blunt, taking a long drag before the very same fingers of the opposite hand takes the back of your neck so he can pull you closer to his lips. He breathes the smoke out of his mouth into yours, connecting your lips once again.

Despite the distinct scent of the drug, you taste a tinge of sweetness on your tongue as his own massages yours. Rocking your hips harder to his forces a moan out of you, making your fingers curl around his lengthy hair. You pull away, muttering a small give me a minute to him. Leaning back on the steering wheel, you watch him while you try to control your ragged breathing.

His hair is long. Long enough that it falls softly all the way to his eyes and cheeks, the ends brushing his really pale skin. With your earlier statement, he just shrugged with the same unchanging look of nonchalance in his eyes—proceeding to take drags out of his blunt. His beautifully shaped eyes now bloodshot and shiny with moisture.

He's almost like a vampire, now that you think about it. So beautiful. Such pale skin but such dark hair. Sharp gaze but soft lips. Intoxicating scent but still so sweet.

The most similar thing between him and vampires, you thought, is the way he sucks all the life out of you. Drying you out and taking all your light.

This man has corrupted you more than you're willing to admit.

You opened your mouth to say something when the blaring ring of his phone makes you jump. His eyes glanced over the source before grabbing it with a sigh and scanning the monitor. You didn't even need to ask who it is. You're very well aware who it is, and why he never hesitated to answer.

When it comes to you, it always takes a lot of rings and missed calls before he picks up, though. You understand. You tell him you do, you always will.

He doesn't pick a call up on the first ring unless it's his girl. Astumu whispered as if he heard you ponder about the caller in your head one night when you were drinking with him in a bar. Loves her a lot. Probably too much.

The alarms rang in your head that night, no matter how much you tried to ignore it. So annoying but at the same time so painful. You didn't know how to turn it off and you wish every single time you could.

"Darling," He whispered with such a loving voice, one you never heard from him when he answers your calls. Your heart ached but you knew better than to confront him about it. Instead you cry in the arms of the twinss—more on Atsumu's, since Osamu takes you through an hour long lecture of why you should have known better.

You know that much, you think.

You shouldn't have let yourself get dragged in this stupid situation, craving a taken man and his touches. Letting him in on your secrets even when he barely lets you get a peak in his.

"I miss you too, my love.. Oh?.. I'll be home soon." He speaks in pauses as he lets her finish speaking first. You close your eyes to prevent the liquid threatening to spill out, taking a deep breath before slowly lifting yourself from his lap to the passenger seat. His eyes widened a millimeter—almost as if he cares what you do, when he noticed you getting off him without having to tell you. You noticed he ended his call with her and you refuse to look back at him. If you do, you are sure of another sleepless night.

Another sleepless night of asking yourself what went wrong and if he ever regretted his decisions— maybe he, too, spend the night wide awake asking himself why he brushed off every single detail of the past like it never existed, why he acts like you're a stranger he met for the very first time when both of you coincidentally takes the seat next to each other on a bar, why he never gave you an explanation of what happened that day.

Cold fingers hook under your chin, slowly turning your head to the left. He leans over the center console, connecting his lips with the soft skin of your neck, making you exhale out at the feeling of him sucking all the reason in you again. He runs his tongue wet on your collarbones, creating a glistening trail.

"I'll see you soon?" He whispered on the crook of your neck, nibbling it a little with his teeth. The bruises he leave on your skin another reminder that everything is real.

You just hum with a nod, cupping his jaw and slowly pulling him away from you with a small smile. One of his bangs fell in the middle of his face—you reached up to brush it away.

So many unspoken words from you. Too many. You wonder if he has anything he's holding back to say too as his eyes linger on you a second longer than usual. Or maybe you're just desperately reading into the lines again, like what Osamu said way too many times.

"Rin, what.. what are we?" Every parting is like this, like a new way of saying goodbye that you both developed. You just needed to be reminded, to wake up from whatever delusions you're starting to have.

"Nothing." He replies as flatly as all the other times before. Not a hint of emotion – no amusement or remorse.

You swallow, letting your hands fall to your sides. On the verge of turning around and reaching the door, his voice echoes once again. "How many times are you gonna ask me this?"

Until you start feeling something.

You thought to yourself. Anger, disgust, love, hatred, adoration, anything. You just want him to feel something. Prove to yourself and everyone else that you're not just a tool to him.

"Sorry. Slipped out of habit." You settle for that response now. No point having a conversation with him about this.

"You don't have to leave right away, I can still drive you home."

Losing all the strength to refuse, you found yourself just agreeing with him. Why the fuck are you even so upset to begin with? You knew what you signed up for. You knew about the girl. You saw him with her in the very same bar a few nights ago. Watched how much attention he gives her, how tightly he holds her.

Of course, you knew about the girl. Your past with her woven in a way no one will be able to deny, and she knows it too, as much as Suna and the twins do. How could you forget? Everything to you was clear as day, from the very first day to the last. Rintarou knows it hurts you more this way, but he never bothers to hide it from you—how he chose her over you.

"I'll break your heart by the end of this, baby." He warns you as you feel his length slip inside you, making you moan out in ecstasy.

"I don't care." You pant, grabbing him by the hips as a way of telling him to go faster.

Looking back, maybe you shouldn't have been so foolish and say that. Now, you're paying the price. Now, your exit has been sealed.

The moment you met him, you forgot everything – your reason, pride, dignity, loyalty, sense, self-love. You hate how intoxicates you like the drugs on his backseat and yet you can't stop. You wonder if he knows how you feel about him—how you still feel about him. If he notices the way your eyes would light up when you see him or the way you would wrap your arms so tightly like you're afraid of letting him go.

The car stopped soon after and you looked out the window to find yourself in front of your house. You collected your things and fastened the clasp on your sandals then opened the door, stepping a foot outside when he once again stops you by the wrist.

"I'll call you soon. I promise."

"I'll be waiting." You wriggle out of his grip without looking back, stepping your remaining foot out to join with the other as you stand up to leave. "Take care, Rintarou."

"You too, baby." The sound of his tires grow fainter by the second as he speeds off to his and his girlfriend's shared apartment and it was so loud, you couldn't tell if there was a strain on his voice when he said that or if you just imagined it again in your head.

You didn't notice the sobs wrecking your body. Not until you feel warm droplets fall to your open palms in front of you. You clutched your phone tightly, holding it to your chest.

You can only hope the next call comes soon, interrupting the continuous flow of the songs on your phone—the very records that remind you of what you never had—or perhaps, if things went a different turn; what you could've had with him.

[midnightsconspiracy]

Consolation

Consolation - @midnightsconspiracy

Summary: Jay’s perfect to you, but in your eyes you’re definitely not. This leads you to distance yourself and prepare for heartbreak, until Jay reassures you otherwise.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1092

Requested: Yes!!

‘Hello could I request something with Halstead where their partner is feeling a little self conscious about their appearance and starts to push jay away and he notices and finally she tells him it’s because he’s so in shape and she feels like she doesn’t compare and just ends in lots of fluff? Totally get if you don’t feel like writing this topic! Your work is amazing keep it up :)’

A/N: Cried whilst watching criminal minds last season writing this, so it took me like 10x the amount of time to write it.

Masterlist

Jay had always been an attractive guy, drawing in the attention of both males and females alike. It was something that always just happened, something that was outside of his control, not that he minded most of the time. But now that he was in a committed relationship, he just wanted it to stop. The women who approached him to get his number or his bed always got turned away with a polite smile and firm rejection. However many of them lingered after to tell him how he deserved better, or if you weren’t with him that night, insisting that they didn’t see anyone, so they would tell if he just happened to fall into bed with them. That would piss Jay off even more than the original flirting did, why would he want someone else when he had you? Even when Jay would get angry at the person, there was still a part of you that felt as though you were inadequate, in comparison to those other women. That somehow they were better for Jay than you, even though he had picked you to be the one to date. They were always pretty than you, friendlier than you and way more confident than you. But your insecurities ran further than just the other people, it was Jay himself that made you feel that way too. Not that he was verbally expressing these ideas, god no, Jay was an absolute sweetheart, never saying a bad word against you and always treating you with the utmost respect and loyalty. It was the way he looked. The man was chiselled by the Gods, every single feature of his body was perfect, along with his personality that had originally been the part that had drawn you in. You felt as though you were nothing compared to him, although he liked to believe otherwise, but in your mind, you had so many imperfections that you would never rank as high as him.

So it led you to the conclusion that you would never be good enough for him, and the best thing for the both of you was if he would were to find someone who could compare to him. That meant distancing yourself, letting him down slowly, so you wouldn’t hurt his emotions in the process. It was easy enough at first to avoid your boyfriend, blaming it on a case that your firm had you running overtime on, but that excuse soon ran dry, as he got suspicious of your workload. Even when you did finally see him, you wouldn't hold conversation or be affectionate, always on the verge of tears, knowing what you needed to do. Kim had been your rock during this process, understanding you needed to do whatever you felt, but still encouraging you to speak to him. She had told you that whatever mindset about not being perfect you had was ridiculous; one that it was stupid and you were amazing and beautiful, and two Jay would not care about this and speaking to him was your best option. But you blindly ignored her, that insecure part of your mind taking over all your thoughts once again, reverting you to your original plan. You had recruited her in your idea, to keep a watchful eye out for where Jay was and what he was saying about you. She reported back that Jay didn't get why, not understanding what had he done for you to have this complete change of attitude. And that question still remained unanswered even after two weeks, as you kept this act up, just wanting to get it over with and finally let him have a better life without you.

But one day he decided that it was time to do something about it, tired of being ignored by the one he loved. So after work on a normal Tuesday evening, he drove over to your apartment, wanting answers to your new attitude. Deciding against knocking, he used the spare key to open the door, wanting to catch you off guard completely. As he entered he found you perched on the end of the bed, head in your hands, looking way too sad for his liking. "Y/N" he quietly spoke, not wanting to startle you but still trying to catch your attention. Looking up, you tried avoiding catching his eye, knowing if you did you would burst out in tears. You couldn't do this anymore, your heart was breaking and so was his, today was the day where you would bite the bullet. Kneeling in front of you, he took your hands in his, trying his hardest to gain your attention, wanting to make sure everything was ok with you. "Y/N, what's going on with you? Have I done something wrong?" Nodding your head, you sobbed, the words getting stuck in your throat, leaving you a blubbering mess. "I-i just can't J-jay, I'm nothing compared to you." Your crying intensified as you crumbled into a ball on Jay's lap, mumbling incoherently about everything you had been worrying about in the last two weeks. Little did you know, Jay could understand everything that you were saying, confused over why you would be feeling that way. Gathering you up in his arms, he pulled you into his chest as close as he possibly could, rubbing your back to comfort and calm the tears you were shedding. "Why would you think that? You mean everything to me and I wouldn't trade that for the world, no matter what you look like. You are perfect and even if you weren't, I would still be with you in a heartbeat." He stated, kissing your forehead and cradling your shaking self, whispering reassurances and affection to you as he did so. "You really think that?" You asked, still not believing what he was saying. "Of course I do sweetheart, I love you so much that you've ruined anyone else for me, you're that perfect." He reassured, slowly rubbing your temple as he smiled down at your now relaxed figure. "I love you too Jay," reaching up you kissed him briefly, before throwing your arms around his neck to properly hug him. Although there still was a little piece of you that still didn't believe it, Jay's words calmed you and your spiralling anxious thoughts down. Knowing that even if you didn't feel beautiful at times yourself, it didn't matter to Jay, he loved you for you and nothing would change that, not even those women who challenged your position by flirting with him.

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