#like my anxiety is better enough its not even that i just straight up

[biteapple]

its also interesting cause Hope always had a chronic vomiting issue her whole life which vets could not figure out and basically said "sometimes cats are just vomiters" and when i first moved in with my roommate, she got a LOT better (1nce a month vomit instead of daily), but it came back overtime. now that my roommate's gone... she's literally only vomited once this week

#i wonder if its an anxiety thing + something else...? #he wasn't very nice to the cats. she would chase Olive around and i could never get them to not fuck off about that #he would also just feed them deli meat. which i got him to stop partially but she would just do it when i was at work #Hope has kidney issues she really cant just eat deli meat whenever she wants its so bad for her and i dont know whats in it #could be cured could have onions and garlic in it i cant know theyre both on a strict diet dont give it to them #i even got special treats so she could give them treats that they could atleast have every once in awhile that wasnt like. deli meat #but she would STILL give them deli meat and would sometimes admit it to me if he felt guilty enough about it. wondering if that helped them #Olive's doing a lot better now that he's moved out though #i have a feeling a lot of her anxiety was just directly caused by them when i wasnt around to see or do anything about it #also despite Olive being on a different diet for weight loss she wasnt losing weight and i bet he didnt help that #sometimes they both just didnt eat their dry food and it got me really worried #but straight up i think he would just feed them whatever she wanted before i came home to feed them so they just werent hungry #also Hope's been VERY demanding whenever i take my turkey out for my daily sandwich. #which. i think is because whenever he took deli meat out they would always give them some #now that i think about it my mom ALSO would give them just like everything they asked for when they lived with her #almost certainly... not helping the stomach issue. ESPECIALLY kidney problems included

[konigbabe]

NSFW alphabet with König

Pairing: König x fem!reader

Word count: 3.8k

Tags/Warnings: smut; nsfw; praise kink; p-in-v sex; penetrative sex; unprotected sex; oral sex; fem!oral receive; m!oral receive

A/N: This is essentially my own interpretation of what König's NSFW alphabet would look like.  | source |

masterlist • request • faq • AO3 • ko-fi

A little warning before you read this; what you're about to read is my own interpretation of König, how I see him, and my opinion on what he likes and doesn't. My vision may be different from yours, so please be mindful of that.

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

König would want to remain inside of you for a while after you’re both done, just catching his breath and making sure you’re alright, asking you whether he was too rough or whether he hurt you in any way. He'd linger there, taking the time to enjoy the warmth of your embrace and savor the connection between you two, content to stay until his body had fully regained its strength. All the while, he'd be checking in to make sure you're feeling good, and if there's anything he can do to make your experience even better.

He'd be willing to go to great lengths to ensure your comfort and make sure you feel secure and loved. Wrapping his strong arms around your naked body, your skin and senses enveloped by his scent and his hoarse voice whispering sweet nothings into your ear. You can feel the warmth radiating from his arms as he holds you close, providing a safe haven for you.

"Geht es dir gut? Are you alright?"

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

König is a true boob guy; he utterly loves your boobs regardless of their size or shape and is truly enamored with them. There isn't a time when he wouldn't hold them, squeeze them, and play with them as he's seated deep within you, filling you up to the brim; but it doesn't have to be sexual all the time. After a long day or rough deployment, he'd just come home and lay on your chest, one hand casually enveloping your boob for comfort as you watch the TV or talk about your day. He'd kiss you and caress your chest, and whisper in your ear how much he loves it, how much he loves you, and how much he wishes he could stay there forever.

For you, it's his hands; not only can he do wonders with them, but you absolutely love holding them. Whenever you lay with him, you take his hand with both of yours, feeling the rough texture of his fingers as you kiss each tip and his palm, a simple gesture you've come to learn helps soothe his anxiety as König has tendencies to get into his own head when intimate, making him spiral and disassociate. You instinctively know to be gentle, to rub his hands in slow circles and whisper calming words in his ear until the effects of his anxiety slowly dissipate, allowing him to find the comfort and safety you yearn to give him, something you've come to understand in the early stages of your relationship.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum)

Feeling hesitant to let you experience his taste for the first time as you went down on him. But as he watched you hollow your cheeks, sucking him off with an intensity that was almost as if you were starving for it, his hesitance quickly gave way to desire, and he couldn't help but release into your throat when he saw the look of content in your eyes, an utter look of desire that shot straight into his core. Both of you were aware that the fantasy of having all of him fit inside your mouth was impossible but that never stopped you from trying. König's moan of pleasure filled the air, and you could feel the wetness pooling between your legs. His release was enough to make both of you satisfied, and afterward, he'd always let you have a taste, building into your addiction. All the worry melted away as the pleasure of his taste became an all-consuming desire.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Following the fact that you awoken König's obsession with blowjobs, all this man has been dreaming about was to just fuck your face, seeing your eyes water and mascara running down as you struggle to take his full length in, your mouth feeling as if it is being stretched beyond its capacity as he thrusts deeper. Your hands hold onto his hips for dear life as he uses your mouth to pleasure himself, your throat feeling the strain of his girth as he continues to pump. His groans of pleasure echoing off the walls as he comes closer to the edge, moans of pleasure a testament to his delight in the experience. But he's too afraid to act on this primal urge, his insecurities holding him back from indulging in his wildest fantasies.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Experienced enough to know what he's doing but had a relatively small number of previous partners - and even fewer of those who stayed long enough for him to find the true comfort of a relationship and intimacy. He's usually more content with being left alone, satisfying his needs on his own terms, not having to worry about what his partner might be thinking or feeling. He prefers to live a life where he can have his own space and not be in a constant state of worry over a potential relationship, taking solace in the fact that he can be his own person.

With you in his life, the beginning was rather rough. You've never heard anyone say more "nos" and "stops" as König did when your kisses turned more heated, when your hips sought his, hands fumbling with his clothes before he caught them, fingers wrapping gently around your wrists to stop your advances as his comfort zone became compromised. It took a lot of patience to get him to relax, but once you did, König couldn't help but admire and be amazed by your sincere and passionate desire to please him. He felt deeply touched and grateful for your willingness to work with him and help him open up and feel relaxed about the situation.

The phrases you'd hear from him on daily basis before were definitely "Darf ich dich küssen?" (May I kiss you?) and "Darf ich dich anfassen?"(Can I touch you?). He would try his absolute hardest to speak English with you, aware that you had only a limited understanding of the German language, but there were certain things he felt more comfortable saying in his native language, and who were you to deny him that comfort.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying.)

König might appear tough on the outside, but beneath the surface lies a gentle giant. He loves to make eye contact with you and to read their expressions to understand what will bring the most pleasure and joy. In the bedroom, König is an incredibly passionate and tender lover, always paying attention to detail and making sure you feel truly worshipped.

He loves when you sit on his lap, his hard cock burying deep within your soaked walls, allowing you to have all the control. Your thighs sit on either side of his hips as he brings his legs up, enveloping you in his warmth. Big hands sit comfortably on your thighs, drawing circles on the heated flesh with an occasional grip when the head of his cock nudges your cervix, resulting in a blissful groan from him that reverberates through your body, leaving you with a feeling of absolute pleasure.

Another one of his favorites is spooning; one hand gripping your ass, almost covering it all as his other seeks the feel of the soft tissue of your boobs. He's not much into dirty talk, not really experienced with it so he'd rather remain silent, few grunts and moans leaving his lips that are pressed against the crown of your head, eyes squeezed shut with pleasure as his hips rock upwards and bumping into your ass.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

König takes his role as your lover very seriously and is devoted to expressing his passionate feelings to you. He's incredibly focused and silent while he's with you, and wants nothing more than to make sure you know how much he cares for you. He can be playful and lighthearted when the opportunity arises, but his main goal is to provide you with the utmost pleasure and make sure you feel loved.

If you're feeling a bit playful and you've enjoyed a few drinks beforehand, he might be willing to entertain you, the alcohol providing him with a much-needed boost of confidence and an extra bit of energy to keep the fun going.

"Liebling, quit provoking me or I'll get my revenge on you," he'd tease.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

When home, König keeps himself groomed; not too short but doesn't want to make you uncomfortable, knowing just how long his hairs can get. He has a fine trail of hair running down his abdomen, leading all the way down to his crotch, neatly groomed and trimmed.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

As mentioned before, König is a sensual lover; a romantic softball. He will whisper sweet nothings into your ear, kissing your cheek softly with his lips lingering and his breath brushing against your skin. He'd be so close to you that you'd be able to feel his heart racing against your own, and his strong arms tightening around you as he holds you. His hands would delicately explore your body, his gaze full of longing as he drinks in your beauty.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

König is used to being alone and lonely, so the sensation of wrapping his own hand around his own cock brings a sense of familiarity more than being buried deep inside of you and feeling the pleasing texture of your inner walls as they hug his cock with each slow, shallow thrust.

Even now, you sometimes catch him during the morning standing underneath the lukewarm water of your shower, one hand against the cold marble tiles as his other hand moves along his cock, thumb swiping over the head, spreading his precum laced with water over his skin to make it easier for him to move his hand up and down. He gasps softly, eyes closed as he enjoys the sensations of his own pleasure and as you watch, you can't help but be in awe of the pleasure he is feeling. His breathing grows faster, his hips arching as his fingers move faster. You can see a sheen of sweat on his skin, the water droplets mingling with it as he moans and his breathing increases in pace. His hand movements quicken and he finally reaches his climax, his body trembling as he enjoys his pleasure. He takes a few moments to catch his breath before finally turning off the shower and stepping out. You can't help but feel a bit of envy as you watch him turn to you with a blissful smile on his face and a satisfied look in his eyes.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Wet sex; now König and you tried shower sex once which ended in disaster. The slippery feeling of tiles didn't allow for much leverage, König's massive height not really helpful either when finding a safe and most importantly comfortable position to enjoy the moment. But what he absolutely loves is that after-shower glow you have on you; when your hair is still wet, droplets of water running down your neck, following the curve of your breast and cascading down your torso. His eyes stay glued to the droplet, watching it disappear into the towel, before he finds another one, falling from your hairline, sliding down your temple, to your jawline, and following the trail the previous droplet created.

The feeling of your wet skin against his felt like nothing else, as all his senses start to go wild. You can feel König's love and passion as he takes his time to make you feel as if you are the only thing in the world. The feeling of wet sex was an experience like no other.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the deed)

Bedroom, undoubtedly, or the couch - anywhere inside the safety of your own home is perfect for König. He likes to enjoy the comfort of being surrounded by quiet and having all the time to explore your desires and see what is only for his eyes to see. He can lie down with you, relax and indulge in whatever brings him pleasure and peace of mind.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Praise; he lives for it. He loves it, even more, when you're vocal about how he's making you feel and what his touch does to you. Telling him how good he is at pleasing you in bed, and how much pleasure you experience when you're together, is something he'll never tire of hearing. He'll be thrilled to hear words of encouragement and admiration for his sexual prowess and the care and attention he gives you in the bedroom. Show your appreciation for the pleasure he brings you and he'll be sure to give you even more.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

Anything that could have the potential to cause you harm or distress. When in war zones, he´s surrounded by pain, loss and damage, something that's embedded deep in his soul. The knowledge that he could've done harm to you in the most intimate moments of yours makes his anxiety spike.

König also wouldn't enjoy having someone else join in. He wants you all to himself, knowing that he's the only one who can truly bring you the pleasure you desire, and satisfy your needs to their fullest extent. You are also the only person who has seen König naked, and he can't imagine someone else's prying eyes on him, measuring him, comparing him. Just the thought of this would eat him alive.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

König's a pleaser; doesn't mean he doesn't want to receive as well. He loves it when you take him in your mouth, worshipping him like he was a deity. And in some sense, with the amount of pleasure he's able to give you, you feel like he truly is a god.

When going down on you, he takes his time. Kissing the trail down, he'd stop at your chest, gently sucking and lightly biting at the flesh of your boobs until they are tender and aching, nipples erect and begging for attention which he'd give them later. Toying with your belly button for a second before laying his tongue flat against your swollen clit, nibbling and kissing your quivering mound as his fingers plunge deep inside. His attention would be mostly on your clit though, knowing that's what gets you truly going; swirling his tongue before wrapping his lips around it and sucking gently, increasing the pressure until you can't help but moan.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Slow and sensual on his own accord but again, König's a pleaser; he'll do what you ask him, listening to your commands like the good and obedient soldier he is. You want him go deeper? He'll throw your leg on his shoulder, bracing his arms on either side of your head, fingers digging into the hard surface of your bed as his hips spread you open, allowing for that desired deeper feel you craved from him. You want him to go faster? No problem; angling his hips and digging his knees into the mattress for support, he'll pound you in lightning speed. Want him to go harder on you? He'll spread your legs wide, bottoming into you with each thrust, making you jump up on the bed a little each time.

Want him to make love to you? That's his favorite thing in the whole world. He'll make sure you're fully satisfied, his own pleasure coming second to yours. His skilled hands and body will make sure you have the best time possible, and you'll be begging for more each and every time.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

König enjoys slow and tender lovemaking, as it gives him a chance to ensure that all of your needs are met. He knows that it takes time for your body to get used to his size and that, with proper foreplay and lubrication, the experience can be far more pleasurable. As such, he takes his time in order to make sure that you are both comfortable and enjoy the experience. Quickies are not an option for him, since it would likely cause you discomfort and he wants to make sure that you always receive the pleasure you deserve.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

With a good amount of alcohol surging through his system, König becomes a willing participant in your little experiments. Nothing too out of his comfort zone but as you build your relationship and deepen your connection, you see him open up more to your desires, extending his willingness to learn about your body and mind.

You make him test his limits, discovering all sorts of intimate secrets, buried deep within your shared passion. Experiencing a newfound level of raw undeniable connection never before felt with another person, he trusts in your guidance.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Man has stamina for days; especially when adrenaline is pumping through his veins. After years on the battlefield, his endurance remains unparalleled to any of your past lovers. Finding yourself completely taken with his might, you thank God he’s yours to enjoy.

The only time he finishes embarrassingly quick is when your mouth is wrapped tightly around his cock, tongue flat against his underline, feeling the heavy flesh on your tastebuds as you make eye contact with him; his cum will flood your mouth as his eyes roll back and body quivers.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Not really into toys as he doesn't really know how to use them properly on you or on himself. He knows exactly where to touch and kiss to make you go wild, and he loves to explore each and every inch of your body until you can hardly take it anymore and he doesn't need any toys for that. He savors every moment and truly takes his time savoring all that your body has to offer.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

König isn't that big on teasing as much as you are, eliciting a moan from him as you slowly sink onto your knees before him, hands struggling with his belt as you undo them. He's expecting your mouth around his head the moment you free his cock of all the restraints but instead, your lips latch onto his sensitive balls, sucking at the razor-thin skin as you use your fingers to spread his precum onto his cock, lubricating it, listening to the desperate growl of pleasure that leaves his throat as he begs you to finally wrap your mouth around him.

What he is more into is payback; when you tease him, he'll tease back ten times more. When he feels you nearing your climax with his tongue playing with your throbbing clit, he slowly stops all action, fingers still deep inside your warm walls as his lips move to kiss your thighs, hips, and stomach. His touch tantalizes you, sending chills up and down your spine, your whole body coming alive as he works his way towards your breasts, sending an ever-intensifying wave of bliss every place his lips touch without moving his digits inside you even an inch.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

König is very reserved, usually pretty quiet and controlled, able to maintain his composure through most of your time together. But as his arousal heightens and his control slips, his moans start to resonate more deeply with each passing moment, his body trembling in anticipation of the pleasure ahead. As he reaches his release, a quiet whisper of your name escapes his lips, almost as if it's a reflexive prayer.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

He loves when you sink your teeth into his flesh; not enough to draw blood but enough to leave bite marks that remain for days. Marking is something he's come to love, especially on himself. It makes him feel like he has a place where he belongs, someone he belongs to. He loves the intense arousal that comes with that bite, it makes it easier for him to draw his strength from you and the more you mark him, the more that connection between the two of you seems to grow. Every time you mark him, it's as if you're sealing in your love and devotion and he wouldn't have it any other way.

König isn't overly possessive; he knows that you had a choice, you could have chosen anyone in the world, but you chose to entice him, so he doesn't feel the need to prove that you belong to him [not as much as he loves when you prove to people around that he belongs to you].

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants)

Solid 9.5 inches (24 centimeters) - way above average even for men of his height. He's not circumcised, as most Austrian men aren't. His cock curves slightly to the left and upwards when erect. Surprisingly, he isn't particularly wide in girth, but his length more than makes up for it.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

König's drive may be lacking due to his anxiety, and he may apologize for not being able to satisfy your desires as much as you had initially hoped; however, he still strives to make sure you get some form of release, whether it be through his physical or oral stimulation. He may not be able to give you the satisfaction you desire in the moment, but he still puts in the effort to make sure that you get some sort of satisfaction.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

Depends on the day he's had; after a long and draining day, König's more prone to falling asleep shortly after, his body worn out from the heaviness of the day and fulfilling your desires in the nighttime.

If the day was good, König will reward himself and you by taking care of you afterwards, bringing you a cup of cold, refreshing water and providing a massage to all the strained muscles. You can feel his calloused fingers kneading into your tired body, releasing the tension and soothing your aches, a blissful groan of contentment leaving your lips as you settle your head onto his chest and take in the moment.

#könig #konig #könig x reader #konig x reader #könig headcannons #smut #könig smut #könig smut headcannons #konig cod #moni writes #cod #callofduty #codmwii #callofdutymodernwarfare2 #codmw #callofdutymodernwarfare

[joels-shitty-puns]

The Key To Your Heart - Track 8

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Musician!Reader

Series Summary: After writing your feelings for Pedro into a song, it gains a lot more popularity than expected. Ultimately it brings both criticism and support, with new possibilities around the corner.

Series Warnings: 18+ only (MDNI). Alluding to sexual scenarios. Kissing. Fat shaming, name calling. Mentions of food, weight loss, weight gain, dieting, weighing, potential eating disorder, food guilt. Potential for puns/dad jokes (name of my blog, and the fic) should give that away. This is my first fic which should be its own warning, lol. Also some cursing. Mentions of masturbation (f) maybe more smut later idk. Sadness, reader is pretty depressed. Poor body image. Rude people. Bullying-ish and just lack of support? Anxiety. Age gap! Reader is in her mid 20's, Pedro is current age (48).

Other stuff: Reader is plus sized. AFAB. Inexperienced. Also has a dog, but you can pretend it is another creature probably. Further, in case it isn't clear, italics almost always are the reader's inner thoughts!

Word Count: 2.8k

Series List: Here!

Miss Chapter 7? Here!

Hi all! I know this one took a lot longer than previous. I was on vacation and then went straight into my work week. I almost thought about ending it after the last chapter but I realized there's still some loose ends! Also I gotta say I'm really overthinking the voicing for Pedro, but I hope you all enjoy it nonetheless. This chapter entirely got away from me and wasn't the plot I anticipated, haha. Once again, thank you all for reading. I love all the comments, messages, and asks I get about my story and it honestly blows me away. Please continue to like, reblog, and let me know what you think! Love to you all!

Also I made dividers! Weeehooo

The rest of the evening was filled with kisses, cuddles, and sweet nothings whispered to each other through smiles. It was just a quarter after midnight when Pedro finally pulled his lips away from yours and looked at the clock. Turning to set his forehead on yours once again, he quietly spoke.

"I should probably get home, Princesa," he punctuated with another kiss.

You let out a whine, but knew you weren't ready for it to move much further than this too quickly. "What time is it?" You kissed him.

"It's already after midnight." He kissed.

"Hmm," you hummed with another press of your lips to his. "And I never even turned into a pumpkin." Kiss.

"I don't think that's how the story went, mi amor," he ran his hand over your hair, kissing your lips, your cheek, below your ear, and finally your neck.

"Mmmm," you sighed, tilting your head to give him better access. "I can't really think clear enough about how that story went right now." You ran your fingers through his curls.

He kissed down your neck again a few times before gently nibbling your earlobe. Your breath caught in your chest.

"We should really slow this down and call it a night," he whispered directly into your ear. You felt his nose brush your hair and his warm breath on the side of your face. 

You sighed with a pout of your lips. You knew he was right. It was too soon into the relationship - or whatever this is - to go any further. But damn, would you be lying if you said you didn't want it.

"I know, baby. I know." He sighed in response, caressing your cheek with his thumb.

He pulled back, rubbing the back of his neck nervously, and adjusting in his seat, pulling his sweater down further over his waist. You tried to ignore it, but you couldn't help letting your eyes drift down a little lower towards the area he was trying to cover. He placed his hands in his lap, clearing his throat. You looked back up at his face, noticing his cheeks turning a pink hue.

Guess I'm not the only one feeling a little excited here, you thought with a smirk at the idea of you making him react this way. You rubbed your thumb across his reddened cheek. "Don't worry, baby. Me too," you sighed, feeling a little antsy and frustrated yourself. His eyebrows raised, mouth pulling into a mischievous sideways smirk. 

The two of you let out a nervously happy laugh. "Maybe… I could take you on a real date soon? If you would like that?" Pedro asked, looking at you once again with those big brown eyes. "I would love that, Pedro. More than anything." You pecked his lips once more, running your hand over his bicep.

He kissed you back before pulling away with a small laugh. "Okay, I gotta go, baby. I'm enjoying this a little too much, and we should probably cool it down." He gave another nervous laugh.

"Sorry," you giggled. "You're kind of addicting, and you don't know how long I've waited for this. Kissing. Mutual feelings. Romance…" you trailed off with a grin.

"Love?" He asked, holding your cheek and giving a soft smile.

"Yes. That too." You closed your eyes, leaning into his cheek. "But that still sounds so wild to me.  I'm scared to say it to you in case you'll change your mind, or realize you don't feel the same, or that it's too soon for… that word, or…" you rambled quietly, your insecurities creating a wall you know all too well.

"That just isn't true, sweetheart. I know it's soon, and we technically just met, but we've been talking for several months now. We've talked nearly every day. I started to realize I might love you a while ago, but seeing you for the first time over video really made me know for sure. Getting to meet you in person somehow even made me fall harder," he held your hand in his.

"After just one meeting? I mean, it's just… people that have known me for years haven't felt that way, and someone like you? Someone famous and beautiful and so much more experienced and mature than me… I just.. I don't want to push you away, but I can't help but worry that you'll change your mind or it isn't real and it's all just going to… vanish," you looked down at your connected hands, closing your eyes to swallow your emotions.

"Hey.. don't do that. Don't put yourself down or build those walls. I fell in love with your music and your voice the first time I heard it. Getting to know you through text and finally talking to you on the phone, getting to learn all your quirks and your sense of humor, your personality. You. I don't know how anyone could not fall in love with you, and I was scared to let it happen. I told myself not to get wrapped up in relationships. That it would just cause more heartache that I couldn't go through again. But somehow you lured me in like a siren and I couldn't ignore it. I heard your song and wanted to know you. I talked to you and needed more. I don't care that you weren't famous before, and that you don't have a lot of experience with relationships. And any other insecurities you have can just go away, because they aren't true. You are beautiful. You're funny, smart, sweet, and you have the most beautiful voice and heart of anyone I know. I knew you were beautiful before I saw you, and I fell so hard when I finally saw you for the first time."

"Pedro…" you blinked at him.

"The constant thought that you already loved someone, and it, to my knowledge, wasn't me, hurt every day I talked to you. But I couldn't stay away. I just kept wanting to be closer. I want to be with you. If anything, I wonder why you would want to be with someone so much older than you. Someone who can't love you the way you deserve, without paparazzi and fans and spotlights. I hope you won't change your mind. Because despite my best efforts to avoid relationships, I fell in love."

You had tears in your eyes as you looked up from your lap to meet his eyes. "I love you Pedro."

"I love you too." He kissed your lips once again, and as he pulled away, he said your name in a whisper. "Believe me, having to stop kissing you is just as difficult for me too. Maybe tomorrow I can take you on that date?" He asked, standing up with your hand in his.

"I'd love to go on a date with you," you smiled at the ground, cheeks heating. 

"Great! I'll talk to you tomorrow," he kissed your cheek before kneeling down to give Skipper a gentle rub and receiving several wet doggy kisses. The two of you laughed as Pedro stood, wiping his face on his sweater. "What can I say, I like kisses from everyone in this household." He winked.

"Okay cheeseball, get outta here," you gently shoved him before giving a final kiss and waving goodbye to him.

The next day, you were sleeping in, feeling relaxed and happy, like you finally could rest easy. It was around 11 AM when your phone rang, waking you up from your deep, peaceful slumber. Blinking your eyes open to see the morning sun beaming through the window, you stretched and grabbed your phone, looking at the clock as you did so. It was Pedro calling.

Cheerily, you answered the phone, though your voice betrayed you, still sounding groggy and cracked having just awoken. "Morning Pedro!"

"Baby… were you crying?" He asked, sounding concerned.

"What? No? I just woke up. Why would I be crying after having such a nice night with you?" You giggled.

He didn't laugh. In fact, he was a bit quiet. Unusual for the bubbly personality he usually was. "Pedro?" You asked after a beat of silence, suddenly feeling nervous.

He sighed and said your name in a tone that sent a chill down your spine. "I think you should check your phone. It's… something's happened. You should see it yourself. I just… I'm so sorry. I hope you'll forgive me."

Your blood ran cold. What is he talking about?

"Pedro, I don't under-" he interrupted you. "Please. I'm sorry. Just, you should read through everything and think things through. I hope you'll still want to call me back and talk. Goodbye. I love you." He hung up the phone.

With shaky hands, you looked at your phone. 45 missed text messages, 10 of which were from Pedro. 200 notifications on your personal Instagram. 20 emails. 

What the hell?

You first opened Pedro's texts.

"Baby. I'm so sorry. I should've never dragged you into all this, I'm so sorry."

"I'm sure you've seen by now, I'm so sorry."

"Please forgive me."

"I know you probably want your space, but I hope you're okay. I love you."

"Baby?"

"Are you okay?"

"I'm getting worried"

"Can we talk?"

"I hope you're just asleep or something."

"I never meant for this to happen."

What. The hell. Happened?

The other messages were from family and friends, all seeming to be freaking out about something. Still confused, you finally came across your answer.

News articles flooded your page. 

"Pedro Pascal Seen Leaving Party with Mystery Woman"

"Pedro Pascal Enjoys Halloween Party with Date"

"Pedro Pascal: New Girlfriend??"

"Pedro Pascal: Matching Costumes with Unknown Girl"

Oh shit.

Photo, after photo, after photo. You kept reading.

"Mystery Girl's Co-Worker Speaks Out!"

"Unknown Woman Is Pedro Super Fan"

"Pedro Pascal Dating Obsessed Fan?"

"Pedro Pascal Being Stalked By Woman"

Okay this is getting absurd. 

You clicked on the coworker article. Sure enough, your coworker, one you always thought was rude, had thrown you under the bus. Your name was out there now, thanks to her. "She and I go way back. We're practically besties. And yeah, she's totally in love with Pedro Pascal. Obsessed even."

That. Bitch, you thought angrily.

It was time to call your agent, Rose. You already had several missed calls from her, and she knew all about Pedro and your crush. She had become your confidante. You dialed her number and she quickly answered on the first ring.

"Rose! What should I do? There's pictures of me everywhere. My name is out there. My coworker commented on it. I haven't left my bedroom yet, but I wouldn't be surprised if they've found out where I live. I'm so scared. I don't know how to deal with this kind of thing."

You were on the verge of tears.

"First of all sweetheart," she calmly answered in her southern twang, "take a deep breath." You did what she said, though it hardly seemed to help.

"Second of all, I've been working on some fixin' since it all caught wind this mornin'. Things are startin' to calm down. Nobody seems to know that you're that singer, either. They just think you're some girl who managed to meet Pedro. But, I will say I think this may be the push you need. It might be time to tell the world, sugar. How you choose to do that is up to you, but don't you worry, I'll put out the fires."

You took a deep breath and sighed. "I think you're right. It was only a matter of time."

"Have you talked to Pedro yet?"

Shit. Pedro.

"Sort of. He called and woke me up. He apologized and basically hung up, telling me to call when I read everything. But I had a bunch of texts from him. He kept apologizing."

Rose clicked her tongue. "That poor sweet man. None of this was his fault. You know that too, right, darlin'? This is just what happens in show business. It ain't fair, but it also isn't his fault."

"I know that, Rose. He didn't do anything wrong. I got so caught up in all the headlines that I immediately called you and forgot to call him back. I bet he feels awful. I should get back to him. I hope he's okay, too. He only seemed concerned for me, but most of those headlines were actually about him and his dating life. I can't believe I put him through that." You suddenly realized what he may also be feeling after his confessions last night about avoiding relationships, and the inability to give you privacy from paparazzi.

Rose sighed. "Now if you don't call that sweet man, I will! You two lovebirds are perfect for each other. Apologizin' and feelin' awful for one another when neither of ya did anything wrong. Go get 'im. And hang in there, love. It'll all work out, trust me."

Your cheeks heated at her words about you and Pedro. "Thanks Rose. You always know what to say."

You two hung up and immediately you called Pedro.

"Pedro… I'm so sorry."

"Hon- wait what? Why are you sorry??"

"Those headlines were about you too, and your dating life and history. I hate that you were dragged into all this drama."

"Honey, no, please don't worry about me. Are you okay?? I know this is new for you and some of those articles were pretty mean. And that coworker of yours!? Clearly not a friend. How are you feeling?"

You took a deep breath. "Honestly, P, I'm so stressed. But I talked to my agent and she really talked me down. She said she's been playing crisis management all morning and it's dying down. But she does think it's time I tell the world who I am."

"Oh… babe. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for any of this to happen. I was so selfish, I just wanted to see you and I didn't think about the consequences. I should have known this would happen."

"Pedro, please don't feel bad. None of this is your fault. She's right, it's time. I couldn't keep it a secret forever. And the party was not a great experience, but honestly, last night was one of the best nights of my life."

"So.. you still want to be with me?" He asked, cautiously.

"What? Yes, what kind of question is that? I love you, Pedro. Of course I want to be with you. Did you change your mind?"

"No!" He answered quickly. "I want to be with you."

"Good!" You smiled for the first time since seeing all the turmoil today. "I guess I better figure out my plans for the big reveal. I have some ideas, but…" you trailed off, pausing a few seconds.

"What is it, baby?"

"I don't want to make you feel like you have to if you don't want to, but… would you come over? I think I'll go on Instagram live, and I don't want to be alone. You don't have to be in the shot, I just want your presence there. You make me happy. Just you, me, and Skipper together today."

"Of course. Anything. I'll be there."

"Thank you, P. Give me an hour?"

"Perfect. I'll see you then. I'll bring you breakfast."

"Thank you, Pedro. You're really too good to me."

"No such thing, mi amor. You deserve it."

The conversation ended, and you showered, thinking through your words for the internet. Picking out the perfect outfit and place in your house for the big reveal, it wasn't long before the hour was up and Pedro was knocking on your door with breakfast and drinks in hand.

"Yum! Thank you, Pedro." You helped him carry, and then kissed him deeply, pouring all your love into the kiss, letting all your stresses of the day fade into pure love. He kissed you back, pulling you in closer by your lower back. "I wasn't sure if you were too stressed to eat, so I got things that would be okay to reheat, or leave out until you felt up to it."

"You're the best, you know that?" You rubbed his cheek.

"Mmmm, that's yet to be revealed, mi amor" he raised an eyebrow and winked, pulling you in for another kiss. You giggled, feeling bubbles of nerves and butterflies in your stomach at his implications. But now was not the time for those thoughts. You had more pressing matters.

Pedro noticed your stress shift. "You ready?" He asked while squeezing your arm. "I'm about as ready as I'm gonna be, I guess," you shrugged. "Let's do this." You stated, him answering with a curt nod.

The two of you made way to your music room, setting up your tablet in the right place near your desk. He sat in a chair just on the other side of you, outside of view, but close enough to make you feel more at ease. He was even close enough to hold your hand under the desk if you needed. Meanwhile, Skipper sat under the table near your feet, willing to keep you company when he could tell you were unhappy.

"Here we go," you breathed. You clicked the button to go live, and the stream began.

Want more? Track 9: Here!

Thank you for reading! Stay tuned for more!

Taglist: (Want in? Let me know!)

@pedrotonin @starcrossed02 @lightupsketchersperson @cartoon-garbage04 @tyferbebe @maryfanson @gwendibley84 @faithfullyyours2000 @brilliantopposite187 @hc-geralt-23 @jenniferpendragon @winchestergypsy90 @red-red-rogue @theendwhereibegin @lottieellz101 @oliversaurus @kyga01 @milly-louise @titabel @taz-97 @stefanibear003 @marantha @fandomoniumflurry @ilovemybrown-eyedbabygirl @leiadjarin

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x you #a! wrote a fic #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x afab!reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x musician!reader #pedro pascal x plus sized! reader #pedro pascal x y/n #rpf #pedro pascal rpf #key to your heart

[celestialbeing2]

daffodils.

a finnick odair x fem!reader story

summary - as the flowers were blooming, so did your anxiety. why? a household slip up. it happens to the best of us. lucky for you, there is only one other person in district four that can calm your nerves.

warnings - not the best grammar, not proofread (fluff!)

maybe it was just you allergies getting the best of you. or was it seasonal depression? no that's not likely. either way a wave of anxiousness had hit you. hard.

it was about that time in district four. the flowers were blooming, and the sky and water were a breathtaking shade of blue. the district filled with vibrant colors. spring made its way. and you weren't here for it.

on these days when you weren't feeling 100%, you would find your designated "comfort spot". it was a small patch just large enough for you to lay down without feeling suffocated. the patch gave you the best view of the sea. it was also surrounded by yellow daffodils. it was all far too amazing for the eyes.

as you made your way over to your patch, your chest felt heavy. thoughts were swirling around in your head and it was extremely hard to process one complete thought. you felt sticky from the sweat beads on your forehead. even though there was a strong breeze that day, you still managed to sweat buckets. the tears rolling down your cheeks could have also played a factor in the stickiness.

you weren't really sure what exactly happened, but the last thing you remember is dropping a vase. not just any vase, it was a family heirloom. before anyone in your home got the chance to figure out the source of the crash, you were out the house. to say you were nervous from the potential outcomes of the accident was a understatement.

as you finally got to your patch and sat down, your focus was on the ocean. the serene waves made you feel slightly better. but hearing the waves crash immediately brought the nervousness back. you tried to redirect your focus on the small insects around you, but the buzzing of the bees made you think of how your ears rung after the crash.

the ocean and the animals were checked off of your fixate list. that left the plants. in front of you was a collection of flowers. bu the daffodils caught your eye the most. some were white, some were yellow, while some were both. you love daffodils. they only bloom once a year, and they only live for a few weeks. so you have to soak in their beauty for as long as you possibly can.

however, the footsteps behind you snapped you back into reality. who could even be out here? no one knows about your little spot. no one besides...

"mr. odair" you said, turning your head around slowly. not ready to meet his sea-green eyes. his stare could be too intense sometimes. nonetheless, you loved it.

"no need to be formal with me, honey" he replied, squeezing his way into your area. you adored the pet-names he gave for you. the way they rolled off of his tongue made you love him more day by day.

once finnick sat down, the silence between the two of you grew louder. you stared at the daffodils on your fingertips, while finnick looked straight ahead at the sea. he has always had a desire to be around the sea. no wonder why hes the best fisher you know.

before you could fill in the silence, he jumped in. "why are you out here? i stopped by our home to see if you were busy but when your mother told me you were gone i was extremely worried. is everything okay?" he said, positioning himself to face you with his classic big doe eyes. this time they were glassy, as if he was about to cry. he truly was worried.

"sorry. i broke something and i just panicked. i thought i was done for. you know how my mom gets sometimes. i just acted impulsively, i didn't mean to hurt you." you answered him. you probably were too focused on finding the rights rather than on him, because he was in a different position, with something in his hands.

his fingers were moving quickly, weaving something together. you couldn't see what it was. his hands are always at work in some way. that wasn't new to you. what was new to you was his sudden vulnerability. he quickly wrapped up making the thing that was in his hands. he held it out to you.

it was the stems of the daffodils in front of you. they were tied into a intricate pattern that resembled a headband. on the side on the band, a white and yellow flower sat on top of it.

"i know you didn't mean to hurt me. you never mean to hurt anyone. i know you. you're selfless and kind. don't take my feelings to heart. i just care about you a lot." he said, averting his gaze to the band. he then placed the band on your head.

"it fits perfectly" he said, fixing the band and smiling to himself. if only he knew how adorable he looked. his smile was large. crescent dimples were indenting his cheeks, and the soft blush over the tips of his ears and cheeks nearly made you melt.

"i..i don't even know what to say" you mumbled, grasping one of his hands. finnick lightly chuckled.

"that's fine, let me do the talking" he said proudly. he then brought your head to his lap and placed it down gently, like it was made out of glass. he didn't live up to his previous statement though. instead of him talking and you listening, you two sat in silence again. like how it was when he first came to your spot.

this silence was more comfortable. finnick and comfort mixed well together.

#finnick oneshot #finnick odair #finnick x reader #thg finnick #finnick odair imagine #finnick x y/n #finnick fluff #finnick odair fluff #the hunger games #tbosas #thg x reader #peeta mellark #coriolanus snow #thg x you #coriolanus x reader

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

If You Can't Dance 1

Warnings: dubcon, noncon, other possible triggers. Proceed with caution.

Note: this is what you get when you encourage me. Please leave any and all feedback! 🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

Part of The Club AU

“It's so nice to finally meet you in person!” Melinda beams as she holds out a bright drink. The layers of blue and purple make you wonder about its contents.

“Yeah, so awesome,” Faye hollers as she sips from a yellow cocktail. “Must be lonely working from home.”

“Oh, uh, not really,” you sway, trying to avoid the bodies around you. Your throat scrapes as you have to yell over the pumping bass. “It's…quiet.”

“Quiet!? Carly giggles, “then It's good you got out! This merger is going to be lit.”

“Lit?” Melinda, the eldest of the trio rolls her eyes, “you young ones.”

You wade with them through the crowd, the heat of the clubgoers catching beneath the wool of your sweater. You feel out of place in your dowdy pullover and long peasant skirt, especially as sequins and bright prints refract in the rainbow of lights. Even your coworkers belong, blouse sleeves rolled up and blazers handed over to the coatroom.

“Hopefully they're still down for work drinks!” Faye trills.

“Bigger and better. Work mandated cocktails should just be a thing,” Carly guffaws.

“Mmm, and what about work mandated flings?” Faye ogles past you.

You crane to follow her eyeline. You see several men, striding through the crowd with ease. Tall and not bad looking by common standards. You see nothing especially alluring but you understand what people look for; good posture, nice eyes, broad shoulders.

“Erm,” you look back and taste your drink, giving a face. “Is there alcohol in this?” You call over.

“Duh!” Carly laughs again, “oh my god, you're so adorable! Oh, you know what, you should start coming into office. We do lattes on Friday.”

“I er… don't mind….”

You don't finish your protest as the tempo shifts and Faye squeals, “oh this is my song, girls!”

They throw an arm up each, balancing their drinks in their other hands. You sniff the glass and try another gulp. You cough and hide it behind your hand. They barely notice you. No one really does, you're tiny and dressed like wallpaper.

As they shimmy and swing to the music, you don't know what to do. You wiggle awkwardly, but you don't dance and have no rhythm. You find yourself downing the drink out of anxiety.

You feel an odd sensation in your eyelids and a ripple in your brain as you get to the bottom of the drink. You copy Carly and leave your empty glass on a table. Another song and the heat beads on the nape of your neck.

The flashing lights and wall of sound makes you dizzy. You shouldn't have finished the drink. You don't feel right. You look at the others and how they giggle and joke. You don't fit in. Just like always. You know your coding and you know how to be alone.

You sidle close to Melinda, she seems like a mother, well, she kept mentioning her kids. “Is there a bathroom here?”

She laughs, amused by your obvious question, “over there.”

She points through the crowd. You see the top of a sign but not enough to read it. You smile and wave to the other girls, fleeing as they barely notice.

You get caught between a couple as you try to squeeze by. You squeal and get knocked around by a large guy on the other side of them. You're caught in a tidal wave of people as you peer desperately at the neon blue sign.

You can't get there but you need to get out of here. Your skin is on fire, your vision is streaming, and you can't breathe. The air is hot and humid and putrid.

You claw before you, forcing past the crush around you, stumbling towards the entryway. You trip out the door and heave in, gulping down cold air, trying to get your head straight. Your chest hurts and you're shaking. You need help!

You look around for anything. Anyone. The bouncers are distracted with those seeking entry and those in line don't seem to see you. You lean on the corner of the building and put your hand on your sweater.

You clutch the wool and shake your head. It's been a while since you felt this. The world spirals around you as you struggle to steady yourself. You keep your other hand on the wall and murmur. You're going to pass out.

You shouldn't have come here. You knew this would happen. But they didn't give you a choice. The email said mandatory. You need this job. What are you going to do? Everything is falling to pieces.

“Pardon me, are you alright?” A lilting voice startles you. You part from the wall, nearly falling against it as you teeter on your feet, “oh, woah, watch yourself.”

The man catches your arm, keeping you from tipping over. His touch surges in you but you know you can't stand on your own. You gulp and gurgle, fanning yourself.

“S-s-sorry,” you pants, “I just… I can't breathe.”

He leans in as you can barely speak. His blue eyes are intent on you as he keeps you upright, firm but gentle. He nods as he listens to your staggered words.

“I… too hot… inside…”

“Oh, dear, yes, I agree,” he smiles kindly, “here, why don't you…. lean here, yes,” he eases you against the brickfront, “catch your breath,” his accent is soothing, “and…” he looks around, gesturing to the bouncer, “Pardon, yes, would you fetch some water for the lady?”

The man grumbles but glances inside the club. He must know the stranger before you, “you have some water and it'll be just fine. Hmm? Will you count with me?”

You give him a bewildered look but he's already counting, “one, two, three…”

#jonathan pine #dark jonathan pine #dark!jonathan pine #jonathan pine x reader #drabble #au #series #if you can't dance #the club #the night manager

[anauro]

I’ve been going through my Google docs and found this alternative ending to ch20 of Drugs and surgical scrubs aka what would happen if Regulus didnt blurt out “the Barty and Rel thing”

“You know how sometimes friends decide to fuck up the friendship with sex?” Evan didn’t wait for an answer, before carrying on, “they say it’s just gonna be a one time thing, that it won’t change anything, but it actually does change pretty much everything. And then the other person expects things to get back to normal and I want it too, don’t get me wrong, I really do. But I can’t.” Evan looked at him pleadingly. “I can’t.”

Regulus felt anxiety weave its way into his brain. He set down his coffee and looked Evan in the eyes.

“What exactly are you telling me, Evan?”

In the peripheries of his vision, Regulus could see Evan’s nails digging into his palm. His breath hitched in his chest as Evan opened his mouth.

“Me and Barty slept together.”

Oh.

The air got knocked out of Regulus’ lung and his vision went black as Evan’s words settled in.

Evan and Barty slept together.

His two best friends. Straight. Fucked each other.

This better be a fucking joke.

But Evan didn’t look like he was joking. Instead, he mirrored Regulus’ terror, both of them staring at each other with pure fear.

Regulus cleared his throat. “Come again, sorry?”

“I slept with Barty.”

The pain that exploded in Regulus’ heart was overwhelming, each heartbeat spreading it further around his body.

“But…but you’re both straight,” he managed to squeak out.

“No, that’s the problem, Reg.” Evan reached forward and grabbed Regulus’ hand. Regulus allowed it, too shocked to protest. “I don’t think I’m straight and it scares the crap out of me,” he said in hushed voice. “I… you’ve known me since I was a little kid, so tell me. Am I different now? Does this change anything?”

Regulus wanted nothing more than to run away from here and be sick in some bathroom and then challenge Barty about this new development.

The pain in his chest was not easing off and Evan’s fingers around his hand felt like blades, seeping the poisonous venom into Regulus.

The same fingers held Barty’s hand. Touched him.

Regulus closed his eyes shut.

“Liking men isn’t a bad thing, Evan,” he forced the words out of his mouth. “It doesn’t change who you are. You were always like this, you just didn’t realise until now.”

“So I lived over twenty six years of my life without knowing? What other things am I hiding from myself then, huh? From you?”

Regulus shook his head, biting on his bottom lip. He didn’t want to have this conversation with Evan, least of all now. But when he opened his eyes and saw the desperate look on Evan’s face… Evan was still his friend. Even if Regulus hated him at that very moment.

“I’m gay, Evan.”

Surprised flickered through Evan’s face.

“You… what?”

“I’m gay, Evan,” Regulus repeated, wringling his hand free. “I’m gay and I always have been and there’s nothing wrong with me, so there’s nothing wrong with you either.”

Evan watched him, utterly astonished.

“Don’t give me this look, Ev,” Regulus sighed. “I didn’t tell you before, because it wasn’t relevant. You guys were doing your girls and I… I was hooking up with men all along.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” Regulus scrunched up his nose. “What are you sorry for?”

“For making you feel like your sexuality wasn’t relevant. For not being enough of a good friend that you felt safe coming out to. For that… I’m sorry.”

Oh.

A warmer feeling started to spread through Regulus’ body, originating at the fingertips Evan held just a moment ago. It eased Regulus’ heartache, an aloe vera to his soul.

“It’s okay, Evan,” he said quietly. “It was me who didn’t want to come out to you guys rather than you doing anything.”

“Man, look at us,” Evan mused. “We could have been having awesome gay sex all throughout uni.”

Regulus swallowed down the bile that was coming up his throat.

“Yeah. We could have.”

He could have had Barty all along. For years, he could have had him.

If only he had said something.

“How did it happen?” The question was out of Regulus before he realised.

Evan gave him a confused look. “You mean me realizing I like women and men?”

“I mean you and Barty.” Even saying the words out loud burnt in Regulus’ throat. “How did it happen?”

“Oh.” Evan’s smile faltered. “It… just kind of did? I said I’ve been having thoughts about men and he offered and I agreed.”

“He offered?” Regulus all but choked out.

Was that how easy it was to get Barty all this time?

All he had to do was ask and Barty would offer?

#drugs and surgical scrubs #dass #regulus black #Evan rosier

[ponett]

Got a spoilery ask about SLARPG regarding Melody's character arc and, to a lesser extent, the ending, so I'll put this below a read more!

Anonymous asked:

Heya! I adore adore adore SLARPG, and have latched pretty hard onto Melody and Harmony's dichotomy for a while... I was wondering whether you saw Harmony more as an obstacle to Melody's growth, or something to be worked on and reconciled with more like Madeline and Badeline from Celeste? Unless it's spoilers of course. It's one of the few threads left open after the game, and as a plural woman myself I was just curious. X3

I'll say up front that I've generally avoided stepping in and telling people what The One Correct Interpretation is for a lot of things in SLARPG. I didn't intend for Melody to be read as plural, since in the story Harmony is a parasitic outside force, but I also understand where that interpretation comes from and won't tell folks they're wrong for relating to her like that. That's just the beauty of art. We can relate to things however we want. I just wanna make sure my personal framing is clear before I talk about the thought behind Melody and Harmony's relationship

Harmony is more of a literary device than a character. While she's not an alternate personality for Melody, she's also not really a full person in her own right. I don't think about Harmony having her own arc. She's a magical force that occasionally externalizes Melody's darker, more self-critical thoughts for the audience, where normally she would keep them to herself. She has her own design and name to make the dialogue boxes easier to follow. I also keep it intentionally vague whether or not other people would be able to see Harmony because I find that understated uncertainty more fun.

On a literal level, Harmony is a magical parasite, and therefore an obstacle to be overcome. She's not supposed to be there, straight up. But because she's just the embodiment of dark thoughts that Melody is already having, there isn't really much point in "defeating" Harmony to me - which is why things play out the way they do.

Even if Melody got rid of Harmony, she would still have to deal with those feelings. It would be a purely symbolic victory. And symbolic victories like that are often satisfying as hell in fiction, but in real life you can't defeat your shadow self to stop those 3am "what if my friends are only pretending to like me" thoughts. So instead, Harmony is something Melody needs to cope with and minimize. It's not about getting rid of bad thoughts forever, but rather learning how to deal with them better. And that's an active, life-long process. And so Harmony remains, but Melody is working on having healthier relationships with both her loved ones and herself.

I'll also say that, while I love Celeste, Madeline and Badeline's arc is mostly irrelevant to the way I write Melody and Harmony. (I don't think this ask is accusing me of plagiarizing Maddy Thorson or anything, to be clear. I'm just on a tangent since the comparison was brought up.) SLARPG began development in 2015, so the Harmony scenes, and Melody's arc as a whole, were already planned before Celeste came out. While I worried about getting compared to a much more popular game, I stuck to my guns, knowing that my story was different enough to stand on its own. If anything, I just avoided specific phrases like "reflection" or "I'm a part of you" to try and keep people from just pointing and going "Celeste reference!"

Unfortunately the "wow this is just like Celeste" comments were unavoidable, as were the newfound generalizations about what all indie games about trans girls with anxiety must be like because there are two (2) whole games that share some common story tropes, and it seems like the ending may have thrown some people off because of expectations created by Celeste. But what are you gonna do? I at least avoided my absolute nightmare scenario of Deltarune Ch.2 doing glitch aesthetics or giving Susie and Noelle a kiss mechanic lmao

#anon #ask #slarpg asks #slarpg spoilers

[sillyphobic]

Party Favor

Prompt: It's Megumi's birthday today and all he can think about is you. (Fushiguro Megumi/reader)

Notes: I uploaded this on ao3 too, so if you see the same fic that's why LOL also happy birthday to my boy he deserves the world

It's Megumi's birthday today and all he can think about is you.

The whole gang had thrown him a birthday party tonight, and that includes you. It was his day, but he couldn't help shifting glances at you every moment he could. You were just so beautiful, he thinks, he simply couldn't take his eyes off you. The moment he saw you walk in the room, he was practically a mess.

Megumi was never a big fan of parties, but it was different when you were around. You had always made everything so much more tolerable for him, he even stayed around longer than he could imagine. Nonetheless, he still decided to take a step outside as an escape from the chaos. He was having a good time taking in the scenery - that was until he heard footsteps, your footsteps, silently walking towards him. Of course the two of you had to be alone.

It took Megumi whatever courage he had and a deep breath to start a conversation with you. And even so, he was jittery the whole time; rubbing his thumbs against each other and never looking at you straight in the eye because god knows what he might do if he looked at the you that was standing before him. 

"Fushiguro-san, you always get so fidgety whenever I talk to you," a soft giggle escapes your lips and he can feel his face get red up to the tips of his ears.

He tried to explain it the best he can, in between all the nervous stuttering that was getting in the way of reaching to you. You were so close, close enough for him to hold your hand in his if he wanted to, yet you felt further than the mountains that expanded upon the horizons. His mouth ran dry; he was out of things to say. 

You let out another (be it melodic) giggle, "Sorry, I was just teasing"

Megumi freezes, his eyes could only follow your hands reach into the pockets of the coat you're wearing. You take your time feeling around before taking out something he couldn't quite decipher until you extended your hands towards him. On your palm lays a box, it's pink and the wrapping looks incredibly handmade. Additionally, you mention how embarrassed you are for having messed up a gift wrapper that bad, but if you did it, it's goddamn Pablo Picasso. He couldn't stop himself from shaking as you placed it gently on his trembling hand, he swore he could've exploded when your fingers made contact with his for a sheer second. He thanks you for the gift, shooting a rare, genuine smile; a smile, unbeknownst to you, he could only have when he was with you. 

Soon enough, his thoughts wander back to his first meeting with you. You were outgoing towards everybody else, but you always knew to be patient when it came to him. He could never forget the first time you spoke to him, because from that day on you were the only thing he could ever seem to think about. Wow, did you make that all by yourself? You're so cool, you complimented his Shikigami. It was simple, really, you praised him once and he began to yearn for more. Even though you guys talked frequently, interactions with you were mostly short, but damn did they keep him guessing for long. 

"The view is really pretty today, don't you think?" you ask him, gazing at the cityscape. Snow slowly fell down from the sky, coating the brightly-lit buildings with thin layers of white.

Your sweet voice made him feel funny and he notices the lack of distance between you two.

"You're prettier though."

The words just spilled out like water. Pools of anxiety bundled up inside his stomach, but he didn't regret what he said. He knows he's probably being obvious, he didn't care though. You're kind and smart and interesting and you deserve to know that. He looks at you, a smirk creeps its way into your cute face. Better yet, you move an inch or two closer to him. When he leans back, you lean forward. The red in his face has reached to his neck, it's becoming unbearable. 

"You think I'm pretty?" your teasing tone catches him off guard, bringing heat to his cheeks.

Megumi monologues to himself, the prettiest in the world. He wishes he was brave enough to say it out loud and close the gap between the two of you, if only he had the courage. The birthday gods must've felt generous, because you give him exactly what he wants. You tuck a strand of his dark, messy hair behind his ear. Then, your soft hands trail its way from his hair to his right cheek. Your gentle touch makes him melt like butter. He tries to mutter something, anything, as a response, but all he could do is hope that, amongst the distance (or lack thereof), you couldn't see what he was thinking of. It's just that nobody has ever touched him with such affectionate, nobody's ever made him so dizzy. Heck, he's never even considered the possibility of falling in love -- everything changed after he met you. 

"Uhmm... Errr... I..." were the only things he could muster up to tell you.

His face moves towards yours, still leaning to your touch. Now you were really close. He wonders if you know how worked up you're getting him, how nervous you're actually making him feel. You only smile, he realizes that you know exactly what was going on. Your pupils avert away from his eyes and onto his lips. Megumi's heart skips a beat. Out of instinct, he tilts his head and goes closer. Closer and closer until the distance between you was no more.

He's never had his first kiss before, so he doesn't really know what he's doing. All he knows is that he doesn't want this to end, not yet, not when everything he's ever wanted is right here. He decided to close his eyes instead of staring creepily at you. You could never guess how long he's dreamed of this. He guides his fingers atop the hand that you placed on his cheek and caresses it slowly. Your lips are soft and perfectly fit against his, almost perfect to how he imagined them to be. You bury your palm into his hair, making his head spin and face burn like heatwaves.

You pull away and he immediately yearns for your lips once again. After a few seconds, he allowed himself to open his eyes and look at you, directly this time. Upon meeting his gaze, your eyes soften and your lips, the ones you had just recently kissed him with, folds upwards into a smile.

"Hm. That was a rather strange answer to my question."

He chuckles at your comment; it eases him, although you always had that effect on him.

"Best birthday gift ever."

#megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro #fushiguro x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fluff #kissing #first kiss #jujutsu kaisen megumi #jjk megumi

[c-e-d-dreamer]

Barbarian Bat: Part Three

A/N: Let's all just pretend that I'm not super behind on writing and updating.... aha? But I hope everyone enjoys this next part! We're getting angsty up in here.

Read on AO3 // Chapter Masterlist // Previous Part

Nesta’s heart pounds between her ribs, the thrumming beat in time with every hurried step through the snow. She’s half aware of the cold biting across the skin of her cheeks, of the numbness beginning to creep into her fingers, but it’s hard to focus on anything other than forcing air into her lungs, forcing it around the lump pressing painfully in her throat. Her whole chest feels hollowed out, feels bruised and empty, and she can feel the familiar prickle of tears burning just behind her eyes.

The snow and the trees pass by in a watery blur, but Nesta keeps pushing forward. She refuses to give in to the dread that weighs heavy in her gut, refuses to give in to the darkness swirling in tighter and tighter and threatening to pull her under. Perhaps, if she keeps walking far enough, she’ll finally wake up back in her bed in her tiny apartment back on earth.

“Nes!”

Nesta takes a moment to close her eyes, a near hysterical laugh bubbling up and out of her. Of course. Of course, he followed her. Of course, she’s never truly allowed a second of peace.

“Nesta!”

“You are quite literally the last person I want to see right now,” Nesta calls over her shoulder, rolling her eyes.

“Nes, please. Stop.”

“I’m serious. Leave me alone.”

Nesta hears Cassian let out an annoyed huff, hears him jog through the snow to catch up to her. “If you are going to storm off, at least do it in a different direction.”

“Just because we’ve resonated that doesn’t mean you get to tell me what to do, you insufferable alien,” Nesta seethes, trying to pick up her pace.

“And your stubbornness is walking you straight into Metlak territory.”

Nesta whirls back around to face him, her hands clenched into fists at her side. “Didn’t you know? I’m the stubborn one. The scary one. So why don’t you take a hint from the rest of the tribe and finally just steer clear?”

Cassian frowns, and even across the distance still between them, Nesta can see the pained look that mars his expression as he presses a hand to his chest. “You are my mate. The one my khui has chosen as mine.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t want to be.”

“Yes, you have made that perfectly clear. I am sorry. I am sorry that your khui did not choose someone better for you. I am sorry that it is me you are stuck with.”

The words hit Nesta hard enough that her breath stutters for a moment, cracks ricocheting through her chest. The defensive quip dies on her tongue, any other words tangling into a tight knot.

How could he not know? How could he not know that she had been drawn into his gravity from the moment she laid eyes on him? How could he not know that every teasing remark, every smile, every laugh he directed her way left something warm and dangerous blooming within her that Nesta refuses to name? How could he not know that he is all that is good and brave and kind, and it is her that does not deserve him?

“Cassian…”

But Nesta trails off as Cassian’s eyes widen, his attention drifting firmly over her shoulder. He looks nothing short of alarmed, and it has every hair on the back of Nesta’s neck rising, anxiety beginning to spark in her veins. Tentatively, she turns back around and comes face to face with a pair of large, round eyes. The white fur of the creature is dirty and splotted with brown spots, and when Nesta takes in a gasping breath, she’s hit with what smells a lot like a wet dog. The creature tilts its head, peering up at her almost curiously, before opening its beak-like mouth and giving Nesta a perfect view of its fangs.

Nesta tries to slowly back away, but her feet have sunk too deeply, her snowshoes catching and dragging in the snow until she’s toppling backwards and landing with a quiet cry of surprise. The metlak lets out some sort of call, a sound that reminds Nesta of an owl hooting, and then two more creatures are stepping out from the tree line and approaching her.

“Nesta!”

Nesta's heart stutters and pounds in her chest, and she tries to scramble back away from the creatures, away from their large unblinking eyes that are pinned on her, away from their mouths full of fangs. Another hooting sound and that first metlak dares to take a step closer to her, Nesta's whole body locking up with a full body flinch in anticipation of an attack.

A roar sounds from behind her, and Nesta can do nothing but gape as Cassian goes rushing forward and barrels into the group of metlaks. The creatures are quick to fight back, arms swinging and dragging their claws against his skin. Cassian reaches to pull his knife free from his belt, but one of the metlaks sinks its fangs into his arm, and he lets out a pained shout of surprise as his knife falls into the snow.

With a growl, Cassian throws his arm out and shakes the metlak free, sending the creature sailing through the air until it goes crumbling into the snow. The other metlaks are briefly distracted by their fallen comrade, so Cassian whirls around, his hands sifting through the snow to find his missing knife. But the distraction is short lived, and soon, the two remaining metlaks have their attention solely back on Cassian, letting out more of those ominous hooting sounds.

“Cassian!” Nesta screams out in warning. “Cassian!”

Cassian looks up in alarm just as one of the metlaks pounces, claws and fangs burying into his back. He turns around before the remaining metlak can join the attack, kicking out his leg and sending it back toward the tree line. His hands reach back to try and grasp at the metlak still attached to him, but the creature rears its head back and takes another bite out of Cassian’s shoulder.

Cassian stumbles, dropping down to one knee and clearly in pain. Nesta can’t take anymore, can’t just sit by and watch. She pushes back to her feet and rushes forward. She spies Cassian’s abandoned knife, scooping it up out of the snow as she goes. She curls her fingers tight around the hilt, drawing her hand back and swinging forward until the carved bone is embedded deep in the metlak's fur. The metlak lets out an anguished sound, squirming until warm red spills across Nesta’s hands and between her fingers, but it releases its hold on Cassian and collapses at their feet.

Nesta’s chest is heaving, and the knife slips from her grip as she staggers back a step. She swallows hard around the bile threatening to rise up in her throat, blinking down at the metlak blood staining her skin. A finger beneath her chin has her gaze raising and meeting a pair of eyes glowing with concern.

“Are you well, Nes?”

A hysterical laugh threatens to bubble up out of her at the question. “You’re the one who was just attacked, and you’re asking me if I’m well?”

Nesta reaches her hand up in the space between them, trying to put pressure on the wound left behind from the metlak’s claws on Cassian’s chest. Between the way her fingers have started to tremble and the slickness of the blood, her hand slips against his skin, but Cassian’s own fingers curl gently around her wrist, halting her movements. With everything that’s happened, the touch shouldn’t be as warm and grounding as it is, but there’s no denying the calming feeling that washes over her.

“Do not worry about me,” Cassian tells her as he reaches down and grabs his knife, standing up with a grimace. “We must get you somewhere safe, away from metlak territory.” Cassian looks up and around them, taking in their surroundings. “I know this area. There is a hunter cave not far.”

Somehow, numbly, Nesta nods her head. She stumbles back to where their packs are laying in the snow, shouldering the weight of both of them. Cassian tries to take them from her, but she holds firm, especially as blood continues to slide along his skin in streaks of red. He seems less than impressed, but he leads the way through the snow, keeping his knife raised and ready in case of another attack.

Thankfully, they really don’t need to walk too far before reaching the hunter cave, but Nesta still lets out an exhausted sigh as she drops their packs to the floor. She goes to move the privacy screen into place at the cave entrance, but a pained grunt draws her attention back to Cassian. He’s dropped to his knees, whatever adrenaline that was keeping him going now gone.

He winces as he pulls his vest off and tosses it aside, and Nesta gets her first look at just how bad the wounds to his back are. The gashes are deep and still bleeding, the one at his shoulder where that metlak bit him especially gruesome. When Cassian falls forward, just barely catching himself with his hand, Nesta rushes to his side. She drops to her own knees beside him, stretching an arm across his waist to try and hold him up.

“You need to see Madja,” Nesta tells him, eyes raking over the concerningly high number of scratches and gashes. “We need to get you back to the main cave.”

Cassian shifts enough that he can slide his palm along Nesta’s cheek, thumb skating across her skin. The way his eyes droop and are unfocused has fear spearing icy cold through Nesta’s chest, twisting tighter and tighter until it hurts to squeeze air into her lungs. She curls her fingers around his wrist, squeezing hard and holding him there. Holding him here with her.

“Cassian…”

“My mate,” Cassian whispers, his words slightly slurred. “Safe.”

Cassian’s eyes flutter closed, and then he’s slumping forward, Nesta just barely able to brace him and the dead weight before his face makes contact with the stone floor of the cave.

“Shit,” Nesta whispers to herself, giving Cassian’s shoulder a shake but he doesn’t move or make a sound. “Shit shit shit… Okay… Okay.”

Nesta closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, steadying herself and willing her thundering heart to calm. She can do this. She has to do this. With a determined nod, Nesta pushes back up to her feet. She goes over to where she dropped their packs, rooting around in Cassian’s until she finds his flint. She finds fuel in one of the baskets tucked along the far wall of the cave, stacking them in the makeshift fire pit the way she’s seen the other members of the tribe do before.

It takes a few strikes of the flint, but finally, Nesta is able to get sparks. She holds her breath until the sparks grow into proper flames, the orangey glow quickly filling the cave. She grabs their waterskins next, stepping just outside of the cave and filling them both with snow before setting them above the now crackling fire to melt. It takes some tugging on Nesta’s part, but she’s able to drag the heavy privacy screen in place over the cave entrance, trapping the warmth from the fire in with them.

Nesta uses the first waterskin to pour the now melted water over her hands and clean them, and then she turns back to Cassian and his wounds. She frowns and tilts her head, trying to determine the best next steps. She doesn’t exactly have a first aid kit handy on this planet. She decides to reach for her furs, untying them from her pack.

She takes Cassian’s knife and slices the furs into strips, cutting the final strip into squares. She crushes some soap berries into the waterskin and dips the first square of fur into the sudsy water. She keeps her touch careful and gentle as she cleans each of Cassian’s wounds. Amazingly, some of the more shallow scratches have already begun to heal, his khui clearly working hard and quickly.

She covers the worst of his wounds with the strips of fur, finding some twine in Cassian’s pack to tie the ones on his shoulder in place, then sits back on her haunches with a soft sigh. She only allows herself a moment before pushing back to her feet. She discards the now pile of bloody furs and dumps the dirty water. It takes some awkward maneuvering with Cassian’s large body, but Nesta is able to roll out his furs and get him into them.

He hasn’t moved or made a sound since he lost consciousness, but his chest continues to move up and down with each breath, and when Nesta presses the palm of her hand there, she can feel the beat of his heart beneath her fingertips. With nothing to keep her hands or her mind busy anymore, it’s hard to stop the dark thoughts that swirl and roll in like storm clouds. A lump presses in against her throat, her stomach churning as she grips at the leathers of her clothing until her knuckles turn white. She has no idea if she’s done enough, no idea if Cassian will be able to heal, if he’ll even wake up. And she has no idea where they are. No idea how to contact anyone from the main cave to get help.

“Please don’t die on me,” Nesta whispers, brushing the dark strands of Cassian’s hair out of his face. “You can’t die on me, you stupid alien, you hear me?”

Nesta holds vigil until exhaustion sinks into her limbs and threatens to tug her under. Until her eyelids start to droop and she has to shake herself to keep them open. She curls up beside Cassian, keeping her hand firmly on his chest, on his still beating heart. She allows the assurance that, for now, he’s okay to wash over her, allows the steady thrum under her hand to finally lull her to sleep.

It’s the cold beneath her hands that she feels first. Cold and hard, and when she curls her fingers, it’s the distinct feel of metal beneath her touch. In a second, her eyes snap open, taking in the white, clinical walls, the various metal panels, the flashing lights. Fear grips her tight enough that Nesta swears she’s being burned from the inside out by its icy grip. She opens her mouth, tries to scream, but all there is is a lump pressing into her throat.

Nesta tries to sit up, tries to clamber off the table, but she can’t seem to get her limbs to work. It’s like she’s pinned down, like she’s paralyzed, and that fear turns into a full blown panic, clawing at her chest and leaving it heaving. She thrashes her head, trying to escape, but as she turns to the right, she realizes she’s not alone in this room.

Cassian is sprawled across the floor, and it takes Nesta a moment too long to realize that his eyes are staring unblinking up at the ceiling, that his chest isn’t moving. In fact, the longer she stares, the more gashes that seem to appear across his skin, blood gurgling and pooling beneath him. Nesta thrashes harder against her invisible restraints, tries desperately to reach for him as the familiar sting at the back of his eyes blurs her vision.

Nesta wakes with a jolt, Cassian’s name weighing heavy on the tip of her tongue. Her heart pounds between her ribs, squeezing and twisting in a way that leaves a steady ache. Her stomach roils, and she’s confident that if she had anything in her gut, she’d have lost it. Her breath still heaves out of her as she turns her attention to Cassian, but he hasn’t moved, his condition still the same as before she fell asleep.

She lets out a quiet breath and lays back down beside him, tries to lull herself back under, but sleep does not come easily, and it’s fitful for the rest of the night. By the time pale morning light starts to creep into the cave around the privacy screen, she feels more exhausted than any sort of rested. Her chest still aches like a festering wound, her limbs heavy as she shifts and stretches.

But Nesta still pulls herself up. She slides the back of her hand along Cassian’s temple and cheek, and she frowns at the way his skin feels warm, like he’s practically radiating heat. Does that mean he has a fever? That his wounds are infected? How is she supposed to know what the normal temperature of an alien is? She peels back each of the strips of fur to check, but almost all of his wounds have closed up, even the worst of them scabbed over.

“Cassian,” Nesta tries, gently shaking his shoulder.

Cassian lets out a quiet groan, a soft murmur that Nesta can’t quite make out what he’s saying, but she decides any sound is a good sign. She quickly adds more fuel and stokes the fire back to life, tugging the privacy screen back enough that she can reach a hand out and pack more snow into a waterskin, melting it down. She adds soap berries and takes the time to reclean all of Cassian’s wounds, carefully laying the strips of fur back in place and tucking him back in.

By the time Nesta has finished, her stomach seems set on being louder than even her khui, and she knows she’ll need to venture out of the safety of the cave. She grabs Cassian’s knife and keeps it poised in her hand as she slowly pulls back the privacy screen the rest of the way and peeks her head outside. When she’s sure the coast is clear, she steps out properly into the snow and the two suns already sitting high in the sky.

Nesta knows that the hunters have caches near each of the caves. She knows that she just needs to find the tree that has the markings in the bark to indicate where this cave’s cache is. She heads for the tree line, making sure she keeps the cave in her line of sight at all times as she wanders through the snow. Her eyes scan the different trunks until she finally spots the one with knife markings on it. She drops to her knees and digs through the snow until she finds a quillbeast buried there, tugging it free and piling the snow back on top of the cache.

It’s messy and imperfect, skinning the quillbeast when she makes it back to the hunter cave, and it takes much longer than Nesta thought it would but she makes it work. She cooks the meat over the fire and nibbles on the pieces, occasionally glancing toward Cassian to check on him. She’s going to need a proper plan soon. A long term plan soon.

But for right now, all Nesta can think about is how gross she feels. The trek to the Elder cave and everything that’s happened since then hasn’t exactly lent itself to the opportunity to bathe and she’s certainly feeling it. Her braid is practically crusted over with grease, and there’s a layer of grime and sweat clinging to her skin that has her nose scrunching in distaste.

She clambers up to her feet, grabbing one of the waterskins and making for the cave entrance. Darkness has started to creep in outside, and Nesta swears she can feel eyes staring at her from behind the tree line. It has her shuttering, memories of the metlaks still fresh in her mind. She makes quick work of packing the waterskin with snow and securing the privacy screen firmly back in place, some of the tension finally loosening from her shoulders when she’s sat safely back at the fire.

She sets the waterskin above the fire to melt the snow and gets started on her hair while she waits, tugging the leather strap free and carefully unwinding the strands. She digs a bone comb out of her pack and uses it to work through the tangles. By the time she finishes, the snow has melted and the water has warmed, so she crushes up some soap berries, lathering up her hair and carefully rinsing the strands.

Just that one thing already has her feeling infinitely better, but she peels off her shirt and sets it aside. She uses the spare squares of fur to scrub and rinse down her arms, along her shoulders, across her collarbones. Her khui begins to sing loudly in her chest, sending vibrations skittering through her veins, heat creeping up her spine, and her hands pause their movements. A shudder takes over her body, her breath catching in her throat, as if it knows what’s happening before her mind catches up.

She didn’t even hear him get up. Didn’t hear him move across the cave and closer to her. But now she can hear the way his own khui answers the song of her own, can feel the warmth radiating off him as much as the fire in front of her.

Despite his overly large hands, Cassian’s touch is surprisingly gentle. The tips of his fingers whisper across her exposed shoulder, tracing shapes and patterns along the skin. Nesta can feel her heart starting to trip over itself between her ribs, can hear her damn khui practically screaming away, but she can’t find it within herself to move away from him, can scarcely breathe. Goosebumps bloom down her arm at his touch, and she hates it.

She hates his tenderness and his kindness and the fact she doesn’t deserve it. She hates the way their khuis sing and twine together, filling the space of the cave around them. She hates the way she wants to lean back into him, to give in until she’s consumed. But, instead, she stares resolutely at the shadows cast across the cave walls from the fires, focusing on anything other than this big, blue alien and his intense stares and his easy smiles and his charming words and his boisterous laughter and his stupid gentle touches to her shoulder.

She tries to focus on being back on that spaceship with her sisters, back to what she left behind on earth. Tries to focus on every barely sutured wound, every chink in her armor weighing her down and promising to pull her under. Tries to focus on the sorry bruised and battered state of her heart, not even close to worthy of being offered over.

Cassian switches his attention to her other shoulder, fingers still tracing those soft, aimless patterns. The shuddering breath that tumbles past Nesta’s lips sounds too loud even to her own ears, but his touches don’t falter, and she swallows hard, forcing herself to find her voice again.

“Freckles,” she breathes, turning her head enough that she can meet his gaze. It’s a mistake, their faces now close together, but she pushes on anyway. “They’re places where the skin goes darker. Often from the sun.”

“Free-kels,” Cassian repeats, his brows dipping as he focuses on speaking the word.

Nesta snorts amusedly at the pronunciation attempt. “Close enough.”

Cassian drops his gaze back to her shoulder, his fingers resuming their movements. “Your sisters have them too.”

“Yes. Feyre on her nose, and Elain on her cheeks. I have mine on my shoulders.”

“I like them.”

He says the words so genuinely, almost reverently, and Nesta’s heart gives a traitorous squeeze in her chest. That tightness only seems to grow when Cassian shifts his head, his mouth brushing along the same path his fingers had traced moments before. Nesta closes her eyes, letting the feeling wash over her, but her eyes snap back open again when Cassian’s hand skates across her cheek. She blinks in surprise at the tear he caught, not even realizing it had slipped free.

“I’m sorry,” Cassian murmurs, shifting away from her.

The loss of his presence and his warmth is jarring, the cold seeping in around her and sinking its claws into her. She wraps her arms tightly around herself, her bottom lip finding home between her teeth.

“I had this boyfriend back on earth,” Nesta begins, her voice quiet. She’s not sure where the need to tell him comes from, but once she starts, the words continue to flow out of her. “Sort of like a pleasure mate, I guess. But he was… cruel. He was awful. He made me feel weak. And when I finally left him, I swore to myself that I would never feel weak again. But I did. On that spaceship. Waking up there and seeing Elain and Feyre and knowing there was nothing I could do to save them. That I couldn’t save them. I felt just as powerless again. I want to stop feeling weak and powerless.”

Cassian reaches across the space between them, settling his hand overs and stopping her from twisting her fingers into knots. “I could train you, if you want. Teach you how to use our hunting weapons, so you can always protect yourself. So you will always feel strong.”

For a moment, Nesta can do nothing but stare at him, her heart lodged firmly in her throat and tangling with the words there. This is a ledge, one that she can’t come back from if she steps off it, and the ground is shaky beneath her feet. If Cassian picks up on her trepidation, he doesn’t let on. He merely watches her quietly, patiently, his thumb sliding almost soothingly along the back of her hand.

“And what if I decide to use those skills to fight you?” Nesta teases lightly, hoping to steer the conversation back to familiarity, to steady footing.

“Then I would know that I trained you well,” Cassian tells her sincerely. “I would be proud of you.”

Nesta pulls her hands free from Cassian’s touch, turning her attention fully back to the fire. “You should be resting. You shouldn’t be up. You’re still healing.”

Cassian lets out a soft sigh, but Nesta can’t bear to turn and look at him, to see the expression she’s sure is on his face. She hears him move away, the shuffles as he moves back toward the furs. She bites her lip to keep it from trembling, grabbing her shirt and yanking it back on.

“What is your plan then?” Cassian asks from behind her. “We will have to go back to the main cave.”

“I know,” Nesta murmurs, curling her knees up against her chest.

“Rhys is a good leader. He will not force… it will be your choice, but we will not be able to keep it a secret any longer. Everyone will know that we have resonated.”

“Maybe just you should go back to the cave then. Then, no one will know your mate is the scary one.”

“You think that is what I wish?”

Nesta lets out a dry, mocking laugh, whirling around to face him. “It’s what you should want. There’s something wrong with me.”

Cassian frowns, tilting his head curiously. “Are you well, Nes? We will have Madja speak with your khui. We will fix it.”

“You don’t get it,” Nesta huffs frustrated, barely stopping her eye roll. “You can’t fix it. They can’t even fix it back on earth. It’s… it’s inside my head. In my mind.”

Cassian’s expression is pained as he watches her, like his own heart is breaking at the admission. He hesitates for a second before closing the distance between them again, his hands reaching up to frame her face. He presses his forehead against hers, each touch so gentle, so caring, and Nesta’s vision starts to blur.

“Then tell me how I can help. Tell me how to ease this pain in your head.”

Nesta shakes her head, swallowing down a choked sob before it can escape. “I’m telling you. You can’t. I’m broken.”

“I refuse to believe that,” Cassian tells her fiercely, his thumbs catching every tear that slips free and slides down her cheeks. “Because there is nothing broken to fix.”

“You just don’t understand,” Nesta scoffs.

“And you do not see what I see. I know that you are hurting. That these males in your past have hurt you. But I see how you still walk with your head held high. You are still so strong. I see how fiercely you care for your sisters, that you would do anything for them. I see everything that you do at the cave and everything that you are doing now, and I am honored that my khui has chosen you as my mate.”

Nesta pulls her face free from Cassian’s grip, scrubbing the back of her hand against her cheeks. “I thought I told you to rest.”

“You need to rest too.”

“I will.”

Cassian scrutinizes her for a moment, but when he finally seems satisfied with what he sees, he nods his head. He moves back over to the furs, but rather than slip beneath them, he begins to rearrange them, fluffing them up, preparing them.

“What are you doing?” Nesta demands even though she already knows the answer. “Cassian.”

“I will not have my mate be cold,” Cassian explains, as if it’s that simple, shifting the furs closer to the fire.

“I’m not the one who’s injured. You’re still healing.”

“I do not care.”

Nesta rolls her eyes at that, crossing her arms across her chest. “Gods, you can be so stubborn, did you know that?”

“Then we are evenly matched,” Cassian tells her, meeting her gaze head on.

Nesta sighs, already knowing she’s going to regret this. “Fine. We can share. Then everyone wins. Just… just don’t make it weird.”

Cassian’s expression betrays nothing, but he gestures toward the furs for her to go first. With another roll of her eyes, Nesta moves and slips beneath the furs. She shifts as far to the edge as she can, keeping her back to Cassian as he clambers beneath the furs beside her. She relaxes once he’s settled, but it’s short lived when his arms reach out and curl around her, tugging her back into his chest.

“Cassian,” Nesta warns between clenched teeth.

“I am not making it weird. I am merely helping to keep you warm.”

It's a lie and they both know it. Especially with the way his hand flexes against her waist, his arms tightening. As though he's afraid she'll disappear on him, as though he's desperate to keep her here in his embrace just a little bit longer. And maybe Nesta should call him out on it, maybe it makes her selfish, but she allows herself to sink back into him, allows her eyes to flutter closed, allows his warmth and the security of his arms around her and the steady beat of his heart at her back lull her into blissful sleep.

—

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#nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #acotar #acosf #nessian fanfiction #nessian fic #nesta x cassian #IPB AU #my fic

[call-of-ishmael]

The Last Ishmael OCD Post

One of my first times that i dabbled into character analysis was about Ishmael's OCD, people like that post but i really feel i could have done better

Canto V was my last major chapter i was willing to read. As i put more distance between me and the story, i want one final farewell in the form of finally fixing up my analysis

PART I: THE META-TEXTUAL

Before i delve into the writing itself, here is some pointers the story gives to her OCD in the form of flavor text and descriptions.

Firstly we have her Bio

This is easy to miss as its just a tiny blurb above her whole intro blurb.

Now, "obsessive compulsive neurosis" is a very weird way to phrase it, "obsessive compulsive" is clear enough but "neurosis" is odd, this is not TOO odd though, as "neurotic" used to be how OCD was classified as a disorder.

However if we look at her bio in Korean, the particulars do simply straight up say "OCD" very clearly, you'd need to MTL but this was also confirmed to me by a friend from SK

The sinner bios are biased though, and are written through a very corporate lens, so lets see if there's any other pointers elsewhere

Her base EGO, Snagharpoon, actually does just that

Her passives name is called "Compulsion" and in its gameplay design its a very interesting way to also point to it

Ishmael is a very all or nothing person, you do it well or you don't do it at all, and this is reflected on how this passive aids you to play

This passive is excellent for boosting the consistency of playing by only going for "Favored" or "Dominating" clashes, while punishing you for taking chances on clashes you MIGHT win

Base ID Ishmael is also a unit with all single coins, rolling tails puts her in a very unfavorable position so this also adds an extra safety net on top. Worth noting being all single coins is also a high risk high reward type of play style.

Finally we see two more pointers id like to note, both from Canto V

The Compulsive`s Knot, an ego gift themed after a naval rope, one of many in the dungeon all alluding to her struggles.

Most obviously though

Her exclusive status effect, Compulsion. This is in direct reference to her EGO passive, providing an attack boost at the same time it provides a drawback in the form of low SP.

We are gonna talk a bit more about this passive since it ties into another gameplay oriented way to point towards her OCD

During the story dungeon we have an event where a noise is heard, you are given two choices, check, gain SP, don't check, lose SP.

Compulsive checking is probably the most well known (to the conditions detriment we will talk about it later) hallmark of OCD

Notably, this doesn't aid Ishmael, while checking can avoid the combat encounter, not checking only has a chance of triggering it, and most interestingly, her SP will always start at -25 during combat encounters. Meaning the temporary boost in her sanity will just get reset next battle, should you decide to check. Checking wont satisfy her anxiety for more than a brief moment.

Lastly the most obvious ones are all the references to Obsession. These are so abundant i feel if you are familiar with the Canto its redundant to have them, i wanted to draw more attention to the allusions to compulsion, as they are less common.

PART II: BEFORE THE STORM

Even since before her own Canto, we can see Ishmael's ruminating and anxious tendencies pop up during previous chapters, which for OCD is important to explore as OCD is an anxious and ruminating disorder.

So lets talk a little bit about OCD! Its a disorder characterized by repetitive and constant intrusive urges to perform a task or a thought (lets keep this in mind for later)

These thoughts or actions are used to try to relieve stress from an anxiety inducing thought or situation. The most common example is OCD exacerbating germ phobia, and causing people who have it to wash their hands in excess.

While OCD is usually described as "irrational thoughts" i feel that's a pretty limited way to view it in my own experience with it. OCD compulsions and thoughts can be informed by very real worries, the worry of getting sick, of making the wrong moral choices, of hurting others. Being clean is a normal and a good practice to stave off getting sick, its the frequency and intensity that turns it maladaptive, OCD turns your own lived fears and traumas against you, and those might very well be real things to worry about, which makes dealing with it very hard.

Enough of that off to the writing!

Lets start with Canto II

This is the first example of her constant need for a lack of ambiguity, previous to this we see her complain about the treatment the sinners are receiving from Effie and Saude, skeptical of the whole deal.

Until shes shown the plans, they are so well crafted shes able to anchor to that and calm down.

This by itself is not really much other than being very detail oriented, lets look a bit further into the chapter

Here we see that aspect elaborated upon more, this moment is framed as a very important one between Dante and Ishmael in their dynamic later on, Ishmael is incredibly upset at the plan having fallen apart so quickly, while yes this is not unreasonable to be upset at, her anger is remarked on by Dante and Gregor as very intense and unusual. This in my opinion is a minor but clear indication her need for planning and considering every option is due to a deep anxiety, but don't take it from me, lets look at Canto III

Here we are told pretty explicitly, Ishmael moving quickly and asking lots of questions is something Dante has noted as an anxious habit.

And here we have more elaboration on what exactly that moment at the Casino meant for Ishmael, it was enough anger and disappointment she has stopped expecting Dante to perform well and instead taken it upon herself to see things go according to plan, this is VERY important to her.

And her worries, are repetitive enough to annoy others, and to be remarked upon by Dante.

This is perhaps the more notable chain of events to point out previous to her chapters aside from 4.5, as it helps contextualize all her usual ways of acting in a more complete light, showing a lot of this is driven by a deep anxiety

And this all makes S.E.A all the more interesting as it pays off on this.

Something i quite enjoy about Limbus is how it re-contextualizes things characters have previously done and said. And the events of S.E.A and Canto V bring a lot of interesting stuff to the table

Lets get cracking with this chapter

In general shes extremely confrontational, and tense, more than usual

But its her anxious outbursts i wanna focus on, what she puts

emphasis on.

This chapter is so crucial in this whole analysis. We see some behaviors way more clearly now, firstly we see her emphasize her need to be absolutely 100% prepared for this, no ambiguity no risks she wants certainty.

But we see something even more clearly and that's her ruminating behaviors, shes brought up things like this to a smaller extent before like commenting on a lot of aspects but here we see in full display her inner world become externalized, shes started voicing worries shes never voiced before can Dante turn them back always? What if Dante dies? What if the sinners get eaten can that be turned back?

And these don't all get brought up immediately, she mentions them in different conversations, pointing to the fact shes constantly going over the subject in her head with no pause, and she gets frustrated when she cannot work on these worries when she cant do anything to quell the anxiety.

And the last part, when Dante finds her so fixated in her planning its impossible to even talk to her. She has to perform some action do something to stave off the disaster she can see coming in her head

As someone with OCD inevitably i have to mention the personal component that drew me to analyze this was how real this feels to when you spiral

A lot of the times OCD is explained as the compulsions being something you do cause you feel its a sort of ritual to stave off disaster. Its in this way i see it reflected in this moment.

As we see with Heathcliff acting as her foil, he points out her worrying is really not doing much other than just her talking and talking, and by the state shes in when Dante checks in on her, aimless not even paying attention to anything else we see the main objective of the planning really isn't practical as much as a compulsive coping mechanism.

She has to do something

PART III: INTO THE DARK

Lots to cover and honestly i will make a companion post to this with all the examples, so for this section i wanna cover some highlights instead, as well as a general discussion of the tone.

The way this chapter is structured is very interesting, its really reflective of the mental state of Ishmael. The chapter feels really aimless, they wander around not really ever finding what they need, which drives Ishmael more and more tense and frustrate

Its a good continuation to how we see her by the end of S.E.A fixated on one goal one thing

As previously stated shes inflicted with a constant special and unique to her status effect called "Compulsion" as covered in Part I

Her behavior is also reflective of this

For a good part of the first third of the chapter shes in her room, the whole time whetting her harpoon, nonstop

However you might notice compulsion is not as present as obsession, and compulsion is also important to OCD its in the acronym! And i have seen others point to it too

However id like you to remember, in the post earlier i said thoughts can fit into OCD, compulsions can be mental and sometimes almost exclusively or mostly mental. Its even in the DSM noted that for diagnosis the compulsions to count you for a diagnosis can be mental in nature

Its in this aspect that i feel Ishmael shines a lot

In general OCD in media is lacking in representation and is often a trait given to assholes or villains

The normal conception of OCD in movies or TV is of neat freaks or control freaks, Compulsion is usually heavily emphasized when it isn't the whole picture

Often ignored though is the aspect of Obsession, some people can have Purely Obsessional OCD (Pure O), this isn't a formal diagnosis or term but its colloquially used by people who have it. Its a bit of a misnomer, as compulsions are present but internalized as mental rituals or rumination

Usually its harder to diagnose, its harder to treat as there's no apparent compulsions others can see, and the people having it seem pretty high functioning to the people around them.

This can be noticed though in people avoiding certain subjects, avoidant behaviors can be the clearest external behavior.

I personally read Ishmael as having more mental compulsions, the way she tends to be a more ruminating and anxious character than outwardly compulsive

During S.E.A and Canto V we see outward compulsions more but from the examples from previous Cantos we can see that's not her usual and she operates more on anxious overthinking most of the time.

However another aspect that ties into mental compulsions is in the previously mentioned avoidant behaviors, we see her isolate and try to stave of having to deal with her worries in both S.E.A and the beginning of Canto V when shes in her room, in both cases doing some excessive preparation in a compulsive way.

CLOSING THOUGHTS

As previously stated Canto V deserves its own companion post, and ill work on that later, i feel this encapsulates what i wanted to say well enough.

I wanted to discuss the previous signs of her behaviors that make me certain her OCD is an intended textual read, and in my opinion a well executed one

Canto V was hard to read as it felt very real and very familiar to the worst times i have had due to my OCD.

Shes a character that despite my distaste i have developed for the franchise, it will never stop meaning a lot to me same as her chapter will always be a piece of storytelling that affected me deeply in ways others haven't

To close i want to leave off what i feel encapsulates the feeling pretty well, in my favorite moment with the membrane consuming her as a metaphor for letting fear, anger, obsessions and compulsions cloud your mind until you forget why you were even there

To you, dear reader, Bon Voyage

#ishmael lcb #ishmael limbus company #project moon #lcb ishmael #canto V #canto v spoilers #limbus company #lcb

[gemstone-roses]

Hii!

I hope you're having a nice day!

Could I get Hannibal/Hannigram comforting reader after they have a breakdown.

I just found out I lost my internship because the company doesn't like people with anxiety so kinda pissed. I just need some fictional men comfort but if you don't like it please ignore!

Thank you!

Take care!

~🦊

Hi! my day was shitty but it ended better than it began so!your so kind! I'm sorry that happened to you,some people really fucking suck. hope some hannibal comfort can help🥺

Warnings: breakdown, crying, use of darling, one mention of dessert sorry if you don't like dessert

Summary: what it says above,comfort, hurt/comfort, the reason for the breakdown is not specified in the fic, gender neutral , hannibal being comforting as fuck.

A:N- please do not interact if you are a minor! 18+ only.

"Good morning" hannibal smiles at you, your wondering down the corridor, head pointed down at the floor. You don't even look up. Hannibal notices instantly, he's concerned, its not like you to ignore him, in fact you've chastised him before for not saying good morning to you when he forgot once, which just worries him even more.

Slamming the door to your workspace, you take a shuddering breath, bracing yourself on the desk. There's a knock at your door.

"Y/n?" Hannibals voice is soft and it makes you waver

He gets no response but he can hear your ragged breathing through the door.

The door clicks open and he approaches you slowly.

"Y/n", he says again, leaning one hand on the same desk and the other on your waist.

You look up at him, tears streaming down your face and hannibal instantly opens his arms.

He holds you so tight and you'd think it would impede your ability to take in a breath even more but it does the opposite, you make no move to pull away as the man holds you while you sob.

"Hey, your alright, I've got you darling it's okay" hannibals words, whilst they provide you with an immense amount of comfort, just make you sob even more.

"Oh darling" hannibal gives you a squeeze. He can feel your body shake with sobs.

"I need you to take a breath for me, can you do that?" He starts rubbing your back as he speaks.

You try and do as he asks, it's just a small one, comes out all shaky,but it's enough for now.

"that's it" he encourages. You hold onto him for dear life as he soothes you.

When your sobs die down to just sniffles, you pull away slightly, hannibals face is full of concern and you can see it that he wants to soothe you.

Hannibal moves his hand to your face, swiping his thumb over a tear.

"I got you, okay?" He assures you

You give a little nod, your lip starts to quiver again and hannibal pulls you straight back into him.

"Come here darling, its okay,let's get out of here hmm? Let me take care of you?, you can tell me all about it if you want?" He asks

You nod, wiping the tears from your face before reaching out for his hand. Hannibal keeps your hand in his as he escorts you to his car.

"Now, what's your favourite dessert?, we can get it to go?" He smiles, starting the car.

#hannibal fanfic #hannibal lecter fanfiction #hannibal x reader imagine #hannibal x reader #hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal nbc imagine

[likeastarstar]

THE BETA TESTER

SUMMARY: You're just an ordinary girl, asking someone who she barely knows for a simple favor. To take your virginity. Very simple.

WARNING! SMUT AHEAD! Includes slight anxiety, extreme honesty, mxf sex, loss of virginity, unprotected sex, vaginal fingering, descriptions of...parts, creampies, slapping, mentions of bondage, jokes about fisting, aftercare, soft...soft and also hard!

masterlist.

"I want you to fuck me."

Jungkook froze, choking on the coffee he had held up to his mouth and sputtered out a response, coughing dramatically, "What the hell?" He wheezed, looking at you with wide eyes.

You rolled your eyes, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. You couldn't really blame him for his reaction, the two of you weren't in a relationship and you didn't particularly like each other. You barely even knew him- he was just some hot guy your roommate had grown up with.

But he was always here and you were a virgin. A virgin- never before touched. It was a fact of life that Jungkook had recently become aware of after a game of truth or dare with the aforementioned roommate.

"I want to have sex and I want to do it with you first." You stated calmly, "You're like my beta tester."

"Absolutely not- you'll imprint on me," Jungkook said dryly. "I'll never get rid of you- I barely know you. I'm not even sure I like you."

"That's why it's perfect, I tolerate you, you tolerate me- I'll have sex with you once and then move on to bigger and better things. Its perfect." You said wistfully.

"Let me save you some time, it doesn't get much bigger or better than me," He smirked, leaning back in his chair. "I don't understand why you think I'd agree to this in the first place."

You frowned, uncrossing your arms and letting your hands rest on your hips. "Well- I know you like sex,

I hear you and Hobi talk about it all the time. Plus, I have an amazing ass- see? Don't you wanna touch?"

You turned around, arching your back slightly so that your skirt lifted just enough for the bottom of your ass to be revealed and to emphasize the perkiness of it. Jungkook's eyes were trained on your backside, pressing his lips into a tight line.

He did want to touch.

"Not enough? Fine, reason number three why you should let me ride- you get to teach me." You listed in a peppy little voice.

He lifted an eyebrow, head tilted to the side with a curious expression on his face. He narrowed his eyes, tongue poking out through his cheek. You were winning him over- you could tell by the shift in his demeanor.

His legs were parted, knees spread far apart enough to leave a you-sized space between them with his pelvis angled forward. His jaw kept clenching and unclenching, wet pink tongue fiddling with the ring looped around his bottom lip.

"Why would I want to teach you?" He breathed out, voice suddenly airy and forced.

You smiled, stepping forward until you were standing between his knees. You placed your hands on the arms of the chair and leaned down over him, letting you hair fall over your shoulder like a curtain around the two of you.

You noticed him inhale deeply, breathing in the scent of your shampoo and deciding he liked it if the slight upturn of his lips was anything to go off of.

"The ego stroke, maybe?" You whispered, "Or maybe you'll like getting to tell me what to do, maybe you'll like having someone to mold into the perfect fuck for you- right? After all, I don't know what I like yet, you can help me find out. It'll be fun, right?"

"R-right," He stuttered, watching your face get closer and closer to his. He angled his face up at the last possible moment and you kissed him- cutting straight to the chase.

You slid your tongue over his lip ring and tugged at it, keeping the control for a moment before Jungkook sprang into action, hands coming up to cup your face against his, holding you there. His tongue licked into your mouth and forced out a moan from you, lips firm and dominant against yours. He parted from you when you needed to catch your breath, panting slightly against your skin.

"So?" You whispered against his lips, small hand curling around his neck, fingertips tickled by the soft ends on his hair.

"Yes, sure- okay. I'll have sex with you, I'll take your virginity." He nodded with a dazed look on his face.

"Thank you, Jungkook. Really, thank you." You smiled, kissing him again sweetly.

"N-No problem." He stuttered, smiling shyly in response.

You didn't set up a specific date but there were tasks to check off first, things to prepare before...before it happened. But now he was standing there and there was a picture on your phone of a very clear STD test with Jungkook's name on it and you were wearing pretty lingerie under a very unassuming set of sweats.

It was late and you were sitting on your couch, wondering if this was a mistake. What if you weren't worth it? What if this was a total mistake and the reason you hadn't had sex before was because you were horribly disfigured and completely ugly and what if your vagina looked weird? You picked at the waistband of your sweatpants and pulled them down, staring at the purple pair of lace panties you picked out. It looked normal enough....

A knock interrupted your thoughts and you jumped, anxiety sparking in your gut. You snapped your pants back up on your hips and pretended the entire thing didn't happen, rushing towards the door. You flung it open, Jungkook staring at his phone standing idly in front of it.

"Hey," You breathed out, feeling awkward and short of breath.

He looked up, shoving his phone into his pocket with a lazy smile. He had a duffel bag shoved over one shoulder and he was incredibly sweaty, a black hat shoved over his hair. You tilted your head to the side with a frown on your face, sniffing him harshly before your face screwed up, "Dirty."

"I was gonna shower first," He snapped, rolling his eyes before pushing past you. "You've got the place to yourself tonight?"

"Just me," You confirmed, closing the door behind him and following him to your bedroom.

He dropped his bag in the middle of the hallway and you tripped over it, blushing when Jungkook sent

you a judging look. He scanned your body idly before peeling his shirt off, making a beeline towards your bathroom, "I'll be quick."

He was quick. You barely had time to feel nervous before he was walking out with wet hair and a towel wrapped around his hips.

"I've been thinking and we should go over some ground rules," He announced, sitting beside you. "Maybe some of your hard nos? A safe word?"

"Hard nos...fisting?" You joked, narrowing your eyes at him.

Jungkook scoffed and looked offended, wide eyes staring at you, "Do you think I'm a sex freak?"

"Safe word...freak." You responded plainly, shrugging.

"Don't make me regret this, please," He sighed, sitting on the edge of your bed beside you. 

You stopped yourself, staring down at your hands. Humor was the only thing stopping yourself from being honest and the honest to god truth was that you were nervous and shy. You had spent your entire life only truly exposed to your own self- now you were about to be very...very exposed to someone you didn't really know.

"Do you not want to do this anymore?" You said softly, unable to look at him.

"W-What? No, I want to. I just scrubbed off the first layer of my skin all so I could smell good for you. Believe me- I want this," He assured.

You smiled slightly, sniffing him again. He smelt like your soap this time but also something else- cologne or something that he must've brought with him. You reached out and dragged a finger in a light circle on his shoulder, smile growing when you noticed the way he stiffened beneath you.

"Soft. And you smell good," You noted, leaning in towards him.

He nodded silently, hooking an arm around your waist and pulling you onto his lap, his other hand at the back of your knee to help as you swung your leg over him.

"I'm gonna try my hardest to make this worth the wait." He promised.

"Speaking of hard," You quipped, kissing him before Jungkook could tell you to stop making stupid jokes.

He grunted against your lips and kissed you tongue first, dipping back on his elbows and taking you with him. You let your hands wander the length of his bare torso, taking advantage of your free access to him. You hadn't ever done this before- let yourself be completely open with someone.

You were so used to pushing away feelings like this, feelings that made you want to glue yourself to him and never stop touching him, ever. You rocked your hips against his, frustrated by your panties and sweatpants and his towel keeping the two of you apart.

He smirked against your lips and you felt your hands start to shake, overwhelmed when your touch grazed over his nipples- nipples! You pulled apart from him, hands still skimming over his body, moving onto his tattoos.

"Just take things slow, we have all night," He assured quietly.

You flickered your eyes up to his but decided to focus a little harder on the ink cutting through his skin, muscles tensing beneath the surface.

"Can you just talk me through everything?" You asked, "I don't need to be coddled or anything but...I just want to know what's going on."

His eyes were huge, reflecting back onto yours as he nodded, lips slightly swollen and rubbed pink.

"Of course," He smiled. His eyes flickered from yours to your lips, "I'm gonna kiss you again."

He did, softly this time. Every time he kissed you, it felt different. You kept waiting for it to get old, less exciting, but you just leaned in everytime and hoped that it wouldn't ever end. His hands moved from your hips to the hem of your sweatshirt, slipping under and flattening his palms against the plane of your back. You felt his fingers feel around, exploring the way your spine dipped in and pressed down there, forcing you to arch your back.

"You're so small. I didn't know you were this small," He noted, rubbing up and down your sides. You really didn't think of yourself as small but under his large hands, sure, you might be tiny in comparison. He pulled his hands back down and grabbed the material of your hoodie, tugging at it incessantly, "I'm gonna take this off now."

You nodded, lifting your arms in perfect time for him to pull it off and shook your hair out, hoping you didn't look insane. You silently pleaded that your boobs weren't the weird shape until his eyes latched onto your chest, admiring the way your bra wrapped around your frame and emphasized the heaviness of your breathing. He licked his lips and furrowed his brows, lips attaching themselves to your neck and sucking on the skin there.

"A-Are you gonna leave marks?" You asked, hands wrapping around his shoulders as he dipped his head further to travel down your collarbone.

"I want to, is that okay?" He muttered against your flesh. You nodded and hissed when he nipped at your skin, a heat you hadn't ever felt spreading throughout your body like wildfire. He soothed the bite with a soft lick before shifting the angle of his head, biting down again.

You breathed in the scent of your shampoo in his hair, beads of water flecking off the ends and landing onto your skin. You shuddered, pressing yourself flush against him for warmth and security. His hold around you tightened, lips soft on your skin.

You felt the clasp of your bra snap undone and suddenly your chest was exposed to him, Jungkook kissing his way down before you could get paranoid about having inadequate breasts. His tongue felt nice against the soft flesh and you gasped when his lip ring dug into the sensitive peak of your nipple, his teeth scraping against the area to make matters worse. He sucked a bruise there before moving to the other, a quiet stream of curses falling from his lips.

"This feels so good- you're so good," You moaned, hands shaking as you held his head to your chest.

You ran your hands over his body and dug your nails into him, massaging circles into his skin. His body was perfect- sculpted, chiseled, and covered in beautiful tattoos. You chose right- he was perfect for this, perfect for you. You whispered his name because you just wanted to hear what it sounded like in this context, whispered and soft and weak.

Jungkook looked up, dark eyes searched your face, his eyebrows scrunched together in a way that made him seem overwhelmed by the situation you two found yourselves in, almost pleading you to do something- anything. He looked so delicate you felt your heart rip apart before you could stop it.

"Where have you been hiding all this time?" He mumbled, pulling you down with a hand at the back of your neck. He didn't give you another choice but to put all your focus on him, not that you wanted to do anything but this.

"I don't know what you mean by that," You joked, smiling against his lips.

"I mean, it doesn't make sense. You're so- I mean, look at you. The way you feel, the sounds you make, none of it makes sense. How am I the only one who's gotten to..."

You waited for him to continue but he got shy, stammering repeatedly before you got annoyed and rolled your eyes at him.

"I just didn't want to. I didn't meet anyone who I wanted to..." You stopped, feeling shy yourself. You cursed inwardly, letting out a puff of frustrated air. "Whatever- you're here now. Consider me found."

He smiled, kissing you deeply. You rocked against his body, pulling him closer to you for more, more, more.

"You wanna fuck me that bad, baby?" He smirked, whispering in your ear with an unhurried drawl, grinning fully when you gasped, hands tightening in his hair, tugging his head back slightly. He kept his eyes on you as his face angled back, exposing the sharp angle of his jaw and the thick column of his neck.

"Uh, yes." You admitted, "That much. Please? Will you please fuck me? I can't wait any longer."

Jungkook flipped the two of you over so that he was standing between your legs on his knees, looking down at you with a sneering, cocky look on his face, "How does begging for cock feel?"

You forced yourself to maintain eye contact with him even though your entire body felt nervous and jittery and you were pretty sure you were going to melt into a puddle pretty soon.

"Feels good," You said sweetly, smiling up at him with wide eyes as he stroked your cheek softly, thumb padding the flesh of your bottom lip. You took it into your mouth and sucked on it, thinking that might feel good too.

The look on his face was worth it, your chest blossoming when Jungkook moaned, feeling your tongue wrap around his digit. His jaw fell open and he inhaled sharply, head looking to the side so that his hair flopped over attractively.

"Get on your hands and knees then," He grunted, jutting his chin out towards you, "Wanna see you bent over for me."

You did as he said, ass up and shoulders down. He let out a soft groan when you sunk down to lay your cheek against the mattress and arched your back, liking that you could see him better this way. The towel he had looped around his waist was getting dangerously low and you wanted it off- wanted to see him completely bare.

"You like the idea of getting tied up?"

"Maybe- not now, I think I want you to be more vocal with me though- dirtier." You mused, flipping your hair over your shoulder to look back at him.

"I can do dirty, baby." He nodded, dragging a finger along the seam of your underwear. Next time. Would there be one of those? "Good choice of panties- soft, delicate. I like the way the lace presses into your ass. Suits you."

He smoothed this hand over the flesh of your ass and squeezed before moving his touch down to your thigh. He caressed the flesh there before slipping his fingers between your legs, pressing into your inner thighs while his thumb pushed against the thin lace of your underwear, wetness seeping through the material and giving away just how turned on you were. He dragged the digit up to your clit, rubbing your clothed pussy and teasing you endlessly.

"You think I'm soft and delicate? You really do not know me very well," You tssked, gasping as he pressed harder, his other hand flattening against the small of you back to hold you there, your spine stretching out beneath his touch.

"Believe me, you're plenty delicate." He mumbled, "So soft that it makes me a little nervous. I keep reminding myself that I have to be careful with you, you've never done this before, have to protect whatever idea you have of what sex should be like in your mind."

You pulled away from him, rolling over onto your back and looking at him. Maybe he wasn't the right choice for this. Maybe he was too nice of a person. You really did think he was an ass before this- an unattached, hyper sexual guy who didn't care about anything but sticking his dick in something.

"It's just sex," You insisted, staring at him with a blank expression.

"Sure," He shrugged, "And you're just an ordinary girl."

He was using a sarcastic tone but you ignored it because you didn't know what he meant by it.

He kept switching between the version of him you thought you knew and whoever this was, telling you that you were soft and wanting to take care of you. It made your head spin and disoriented you- maybe that was the key to good sex because in a flash he had pulled your panties down your thighs, trapping them together and sunk a finger into your pussy, lips attaching to your clit. You yelped in surprise, his hand coming up to grasp your hip, holding you upright.

"This feel okay?" He asked, continuing to pump his finger in and out of you. You were so wet the slide was easy and you preened when he spread your arousal through the folds of your pussy, tongue and fingers both paying great care to pleasure you.

You hummed in response and you heard him chuckle, adding a finger when his digits returned back to your hole, stretching you wide with a smooth motion. "No one else has touched you like this?"

"J-Just myself," You nodded.

"How'm doin?" He slurred, too busy eating you out to fully annunciate.

"G-Good! So good, Great, I-" You cut yourself off, moaning loudly, "Keep going."

His fingers were bigger then yours were and it felt good to be stretched out like this, touch pressed against your walls and rubbing in just the right spot. You could barely keep your eyes open, your legs shaking and everything else melting away beside the feeling of absolute and complete pleasure. You felt electrified, unable to breathe deeply in favor of short, airy pants.

"Holy fuck," You cursed, biting down on your lip as your hips wiggled against him.

He added a finger and you squirmed beneath him, shocked by the spike of pain that ran up your spine before melting away to something better but not fast enough. Your hips froze and angled away, your thighs tensing.

"I'm sorry- I'm sorry," Jungkook soothed, kissing the flesh of your ass. "I just want you to be ready, okay?"

"Okay," You nodded, voice broken and panicky.

This was it- the anxiety was setting in. Jungkook could hear it in your voice and slowed down, pulling his touch away from you completely. You felt him nudge you at your side and then he rolled you over, laying you down on your back.

"Hey," He said softly, getting your attention, "You're fine- okay? You're good. We can stop if you want but I promise you, I won't do anything you won't enjoy."

You nodded, pushing him down by his shoulder, "Keep going."

He smiled at you and did as you said, kissing down the length of your body until his face was buried between your thighs, tongue lapping at your clit again, "God, you taste good."

You closed your eyes and put your hand in his hair, strands barely damp now. This time, he didn't stop and you didn't want him to. When his fingers slipped between your folds and into you, you liked the stretch and felt familiar with it.

He tapped at your lips with two fingers, causing you to snap your eyes open and look down at him with alarm. He laughed at your shocked expression, slipping his digits between your lips and pressing down on your tongue.

"Taste yourself," He muttered, keeping his eyes locked on yours as you sucked. It was strange, the taste of your own arousal- you hadn't ever experienced anything like it but something about knowing that he did that to you, that he made you that wet, turned you on.

He pulled his fingers away and plunged them back into you suddenly and you came on his tongue with a broken cry. You angled your hips up, knees pulling up around his ears. He waited until you had floated back down to earth, eyes opening again to find his heavy gaze locked onto your face. You blushed and watched him move up, covering your body with his. You pushed his towel away, annoyed to all hell that he still had it on.

"Can I-"

Your mouth watered and you reached out, fingertips grazing his inner thigh, inching forward to take him in your hands when he stopped you. His cock was flushed pink and the tip was wet, leaking persistently against his own skin and you wanted to know what he tasted like too. It was easy to imagine the weight of his member on your tongue, the veins pressing against your gums and rubbing on the inside of your cheek. You looked up at him with a small pout in confusion, lifting your eyebrows expectantly when he locked eyes with you.

"No, this is about you," He reminded, "Tonight you should just worry about you feeling good."

"I want you to feel good too," You insisted, leaning in towards him more.

"I will," He insisted. "I assure you, I already feel very good. We have all night, remember? It's not like you won't ever have another chance."

He's so nice- so fucking nice. You felt your head swim and the room felt like it was swimming and suddenly Jungkook was saying this was it- he was going to do it.

You felt him, gasping as you focused hard on his face. Jungkook's face was taunt and concentrated face as he pushed inside of you, stretching you, making room for himself in your body. It was unreal- you felt so full, so...whole. Jungkook watched your face carefully, slipping into you further.

He was wider than you thought he was and seemed to be endlessly long, you were aware of your entire body, nerve endings that had been dormant your entire life suddenly lighting up. Jungkook let out a stream of curses, stilling when his hips were against yours and he was buried to the hilt.

He didn't move, kissing you everywhere he could reach. He kissed your arms, your shoulders, pressed his lips to your neck and your cheeks. His hands caressed you, waiting patiently for you to say something- anything.

It felt like it lasted forever, that moment of him focusing entirely on you. He let you control everything, staying still even as you experimentally rolled your hips in small circles, wanting to feel him all angles. It didn't hurt- not that much. It was uncomfortable but you knew you were ready and relaxed under him.

You arched your back slowly, getting used to the burn of being filled, "Y-You can move."

He nodded silently, seemingly unable to speak at the moment and his hips flicked back and- oh. this was good.

Jungkook pulls out slowly just to push back in, and it’s ruining you- destroying you every part of you and putting you back together like a doll. You watched him carefully, admiring the sweat beading on his neck, the roll of his hips, the way his tattoos looked pressed up against your body.

You liked the weight of his body on top of yours and the tightness of your chest, the squeeze of your core as he pushed into you. The drag was slow and your hips ached from being forced apart, Jungkook's thighs pressed up against yours. You wished you could see him from all angles, the way his back stretched, the way his ass looked.

Jungkook moaned and it sounded like the cry of an angel, making you gasp in surprise and your pussy clench around him. You never would've waited this long to have sex if you knew it would be like this- if he would sound like this while you were under him. It was addicting, all you wanted to do was hear it again, make him moan again. You could see yourself going crazy trying to listen to the sounds he made again.

"Tell me you feel good," He demanded, "You're doing such a good job for me, being such a good fucking girl- tell me I'm making you feel good."

You let out a shattered cry and felt tears bead at the corner of your eyes at the sheer intensity of it all, "I-I do."

"Come on, pretty girl," Jungkook grunted, pushing up off of you so that he could get a better look at your face. His hips moved faster, shallow, quick thrusts against yours. He spread your thighs wider in his hands and slapped the skin there lightly, "Use your words."

You were openly crying now, a slight look of alarm coming over his face before you rolled your hips up against his, flexing your core until you lifted them entirely up off the mattress and pressing yourself flat against him. He smirked and supported your lower back with a hand while the other rubbed your clit, "I- I feel so good. You feel so good inside of me. P-Please, don't stop. Please? Please, Jungkook? Please keep fucking me?"

He smiled and nodded, fucking you fully now. You were lost to the way he felt inside of you, dizzy at the sight of him.

"I won't," He assured, "God, you're so pretty like this. You should see yourself, cheeks flushed, hair a mess, swollen lips, begging for my cock. You look so fucking sexy."

You moaned, your voice cracking. You wanted to tell him he looked sexy too but you couldn't find the words, pressure building in your stomach and distracting you entirely. He kept going, muttering under his breath.

"Tits covered in marks I made, pussy soaked because of me too, huh? I'm the only one who gets you like this." He grunted, "Shit- you were right, this is an ego stroke. Maybe next time, you can put me in my place."

Next time. Would there be one of those?

"Does that sound good? Do you wanna put me in my place?" He smirked, leaning down to kiss you.

You whined and grasped at his face, wanting to keep him near you, "Yeah, next time, okay? I'm gonna cum now, okay? Is that okay?"

"Yeah," Jungkook said breathlessly, slamming his hips up against yours and suddenly that was it- you were done.

Your thighs squeezed around him and you came undone beneath him, trembling in his embrace. Jungkook rocked into you, hands rubbing soothing circles into your skin and clit. You felt your vision black out and heard your voice cry out his name in a broken sob. Jungkook followed you close behind, cumming inside of you.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," He chanted like a mantra against your lips, pleadingly appreciating you for gifting him something you were more than happy to give up.

It was a heat unlike anything else you had ever felt, a feral need for Jungkook being uncovered. He matched your ferocity, kissing you messily as the two of you rode out your highs, bodied grinding against one another selfishly.

He held you there for a moment, a million times more soft than he had been seconds before. He peck your lips sweetly, pushing your hair back with a shaking hand.

"You did so well," He whispered, hugging you close. "Did I hurt you at all?"

"No- it was perfect," You beamed like you had just finished running a marathon or some other worthy accomplishment, squeezing your arms around his thin waist.

He lifted himself off of you and disappeared, leaving you alone. Was that it? Was he leaving? You tried not to feel disappointed, reminding yourself that it was just sex- this was just sex. He was just helping you out, doing you a favor- nothing more. You were supposed to barely know him, remember?

Jungkook reappeared, still naked but with a pack of makeup wipes in hand. You frowned before he took one out of the pack and started wiping you down with it, prying you legs apart and making quick work of the mess between your legs.

"Hey! Those are expensive!" You snapped, staring at him.

"I'll buy you more- go pee right now or else you're gonna get an infection." He instructed, his hand patting your thigh lightly.

You grumbled but did as he said, your legs giving out beneath you twice on your way there. You glared at Jungkook when he snickered, wondering if now was when he was leaving. But when you got back into bed, he strolled back into your room with a banana and some water in hand. He took a bite of the banana and held it out to you, looking around your room.

"You wanna watch a show or somethin?" He asked aimlessly with his mouth still full, not bothered in the slightest that he was stark naked in front of you.

"Y-You're staying?" You asked, an excited tone giving away your thoughts.

He laughed softly, plopping into bed beside you with a soft nod. He pulled the covers around him and pressed himself up to your side, kissing the top of your shoulder, "Duh- talking shit and falling asleep after is the best part of sex- well, other than the actual fucking. Anyway, I promised you the whole package, now should we watch a show or make out some more?"

You smiled shyly and wrapped your arms around him, looking up at Jungkook with wide eyes, "I wanna make out."

"Good choice, pretty girl." He smiled, hand already pulling your face towards him.

#jeon jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook x you #jungkook oneshot #bts smut #bts fanfction #bts fluff

[mostlymaudlin]

ooooooh ok juicy sfc posts happening !! i rly honestly truly love to see it. here's my unasked for two cents, as someone who did find the story really hopeful. im posting this not to like, discourse or disagree or discount what im seeing, but to just maybe offer a different pov for ppl who might be trying to file this story away in a less devastating way.

i, of course, think baz deserves better than what he gets from his family. we all deserve to have families that love us unconditionally, and so many of us DONT have that -- including baz. that hurts !! i also think simon didn't deserve to lose his magic, and penny didn't deserve to take on the sole responsibility for keeping simon safe, and agatha didnt deserve to be shoved into every princess/damsel role ppl cast on her, etc etc. 

what i like so much abt this series is that ppl dont get what they deserve, but theyre still okay. its why i also love the end of awtwb -- simons LICH ER ALL Y crying lol. he got a whole mega-bucket of extra trauma dumped on his plate that he hasnt even started to process. but its still so clear that he's got the support he needs to live a good life alongside this terrible knowledge. the mage fucked him over even more than he knew, but he doesnt have to define himself by these terms anymore -- we've seen his growth in this regard.

bazs main arc in the series is about how he sees himself -- in crudely simple terms, he rly wants to be a Good Guy (you know, not a vampire, straight, a good pitch etc etc) but sees himself as cursed with that impossibility. this continues as his idealized Good Guy self develops over the course of the books into something that actually feels more achievable to him and is less reliant on the shit his family put on him growing up. 

the cool thing about snow for christmas is that -- just like when simon finds out abt the mage at the end of awtwb -- we get to see baz's new sense of self tested. we get to see what he's using to draw the lines of morality. and we get to see that while of course he still cares about what his family thinks, and it still causes him anxiety and trauma and all the shitty things that he doesnt deserve -- he has grown from that place where their value system can make him hate himself.

and moreso on the hope part -- the grimms value, above all, the ability to fit into the roles they think theyre supposed to hold. its bullshit, and they've both caused themselves problems and absolutely are fucking up their children. daphne fully had to be saved by a cult bc of it and shes still not over that mindset -- these ppl need therapy lol. so it's def sick n twisted that they're celebrating baz being able to hide better rather than celebrating who baz is, but is this not the utmost sign of love that they're capable of? baz gets to fit in better -- that's all they've ever wanted for him, whether we agree with that or not. baz seems to recognize the balance of this in the story. he narrates the rest of the dinner with a sort of dry, relieved, disbelieving tone. it’s like hes huffing a laugh, shaking his head, thinking, “did i really used to pin so much of myself on this stuff? how silly.” he is not distressed bc he understands his parents, and he has, again, divorced his sense of self from their expectations. so much so tht he says fuck it and gives simon the lil kissy at the end, because THIS is his new value system: he ALWAYS kisses simon goodbye!

so, is this a step forward for the grimms being more supportive parents? yeah, maybe not. maybe it never gets better than baz hiding his fangs at dinner and everyone doing the bare minimum to accept simon's role in baz’s life. that's not what baz and simon deserve. but it could be enough, because simon and baz have different ways that they measure their happiness by. they have each other and penny and shep and ruth and agatha and niamh and every other person they'll meet in the many, many years ahead of them whose opinions they can choose to make important to them, or reject. i love this for them! the true queer hope story imo. thats what i want for myself and for the people i love. 

to be clear: this story made me sob so hard i scared my cats. (im not rly a crier, they did not know what to do). i had to put it down in the middle because i couldnt see the page. any queer person who has Family Shit is bound to get whammied lol. but! i personally find comfort in the idea that we can coexist with people who are important to us but also very difficult to be around, even if its not totally what we deserve. its a very quiet, somber hope -- but that only makes it feel more real to me. 

#snow for christmas #snow for christmas spoilers #idk if we're still doing that hahahha #sfc #ss #a #<my ol simon snow analysis tag LOL been a while

[yoditorian]

Lacuna - The Rewrite - Part 2

din/gn!reader

i split the original chapter into two upon rewriting, which is why the second half is missing

original part 2//series masterlist//main masterlist

word count: 3.1k // warnings: some swears, too many italics, that's literally it tho, still 18+ no babies

“-wiped out, no one survived.”

“Well, someone did.”

They’re arguing, still. And you’ve been delivered five meals since being directed into the small office for questioning. So it’s been at least a day, almost two. Probably. The voices in the hall fade, they must be off to discuss your situation with someone who might be able to make the decision. They’ve already searched you and your pack - already confirmed you’re not a spy for the Empire - so what’s the hold up?

You don’t hear a set of footsteps approaching the door, too wrapped up in your own anxieties about what might happen if they don’t let you in. Which is probably why you jump half a foot in your chair when the door slides open. It reveals a woman, dark hair and sharp features, deep green flight suit tied at her waist. She’s pretty, although she’s clearly not sure what to make of you just yet as she eyes the binders at your wrists.

“What do you do?” She asks, arms folded as she leans against the doorframe. You don’t answer straight away, not sure if it might be some kind of test, but at least she doesn’t look overly annoyed that she has to repeat her question to get an answer.

“Pilot, mechanic, fucking janitor - whatever, honestly.” 

“Triple threat,” Her voice is even, but she’s fighting a smile that gives her away immediately. Not a test, then. “What kind of experience you got?”

Shara has to admit that the rumours of a surviving member of the Corellian spy ring had piqued her interest. Jet fuel runs in the blood there, it’s a safe bet that whoever the generals had spent the better part of forty eight hours grilling has more than enough experience to hop straight into a starfighter. And with heavy losses in recent months, pilots are something the Rebellion is desperately short on. 

So she isn’t shocked when you start listing every planetside transport, every planet hopper, cargo freighter, gunship, and starfighter you’ve ever worked on or flown. The list is extensive, impressive honestly. It dwarfs the experience of many of her colleagues, and Shara can’t help the thrum of excitement in her veins. Not only are you an experienced pilot, but you’re a mechanic - a scrapper, the rebels need more scrappers. Too many politicians, too many people who are far too used to having every resource in the galaxy at their disposal. It’s a glimmer of hope, she realises, in a night becoming all too dark for anyone’s liking.

“So, you can fly anything?” Shara asks, no longer hiding the wide grin on her face.

“Anything.”

You’ll fit right in, she decides - there and then.

And you do, you slot in like you’ve lived your whole life orbiting Yavin.

They drill you like there’s no tomorrow, you’ve got the deep muscle aches to prove it but it’s thrilling. Your back hurts and it’s everything you ever wanted it to be. Where the Corellian spy ring was all sneaking and secrets, the Rebel base on Yavin IV is a full scale production. Every daylight hour is spent running the same manoeuvres in the main four fighters - before you know it, you could fly any one of them with your eyes closed. Despite the pain and the exhaustion and the repetitive nature of the training, you love it. But you’ve got your eyes on the prize.

A coveted position in one of the primary starfighter squadrons has conveniently opened up, its previous placeholder reassigned, and you’re not the only one who’s sure that the fourth bunk in Green Squadron’s barracks has your name on it.

“I know I don’t see you coming for my track time.” Shara Bey’s voice is loud and clear over the buzz of the hangar, and you can’t keep the smile off your face despite the ache deep in your bones.

“Maybe I am, are you finally gonna do something about it?”

Shara launches herself at you the moment you set your datapad down, a boisterous laugh echoing off the ships. You’re steadily climbing the ranks in training, the years of experience already under your belt make you more confident in the cockpit than the other new recruits and you’re not afraid to pull a stunt or two. A flawless dead drop recovery had earned more than a few nods of approval from some of the qualified pilots. Although the Commander overseeing the recruit training made it clear that it was definitely what landed you with patrol maintenance duty on top of your usual drills in the first place.

“I talked to Draven.” She says, and your stomach flips. You’re leaps and bounds ahead of the other recruits, for sure, but nobody seems to want to sign off on your training. There’s always something about required hours or simulation times or more drills. You’re starting to get the feeling that, while you’ve got enough support from your would-be colleagues, no one in command wants you in the air at all.

“I told you I would!”

“I know, I know. But look, if I ask it’s more like an endorsement.”

“Shara-” You’re talking over one another, but not missing a single word. It’s a talent that leaves the commanding officers astounded more often than not.

“He said he’d think about it, which in command language means no-” 

“Tell me there’s a but.”

“But,” She grins widely, “He told me if you get this next info grab done, he’ll put in a good word with my commanders. And my commanders know I’m not going in the air unless you’re at my nine o’clock.”

Shara’s been far more welcoming than just about everyone since the moment she’d rocked up to your interrogation room and asked about your experience. And, over the moon to find you wandering around the halls and out of the binders, she’d spent the whole of your first night curled up in your bunk in the recruit barracks - recounting every little bit of drama she could think of. By the morning, you know who was dating who, who wasn’t happy about it, which crews were rivals, and which held the fastest course runs. Hers, obviously . 

You weren’t as forthcoming with your own journey, only mentioning that you’d run with some rebels for a while on your home planet, made a few detours along the way - she didn’t seem too surprised, and you wondered how much of that she knew already. Ran’s voice, still, in the back of your mind reminding you that everybody has an agenda . But her eyes were so open, so kind, you’ve yet to see that slip. Shara Bey might be the first genuinely good person you’ve ever met.

“And Kes’s crew is due to swing by tomorrow, in case you’ve changed your mind.” She winks, although she already knows you well enough to know you won’t take her up on the offer.

It had come up that first night, somewhere along the way, when she’d started lamenting about the pitiful state of the dating pool. Not something she had to worry about anymore, thank God, but a nightmare nowadays if you were after anyone who didn’t have history with someone in their own crew. She was happy to get her boyfriend to set you up with one of his friends - Pathfinders, never on base long enough to establish a history with anyone, fine enough to pass the time, and strong enough to manhandle you a little. If that’s what you’re into. 

You’d still been a little wary of sharing too many details about your history, something about how you weren’t interested muttered in the dark over the quiet breathing of the other new recruits. You could only tell her that you didn’t expect to see him again. He’d gone home, you didn’t even know where home was. She’d understood, with an arm around your shoulders and an attentive ear if you ever wanted to share more, although she made it clear that the offer of a muscular pair of emotionally unattached Pathfinder arms was always open.

It’s close to a year since you got scooped up by their spies for asking about the Rebellion, but Shara’s never failed to make it seem like much longer. Like you’ve been best friends, sharing lunches and secrets on the landing pad in the shade of her A-Wing for your whole lives. Even now, she’s looking at you like she knows you - backwards, forwards, sideways, inside out. Truth be told, she kind of does. It’s a closeness you’re sure you’ve never had with anyone, and you know you wouldn’t give it up for anything.

“Someone came here last week having never left his planet before and they put him on the training roster. You’ve logged more flight time than any recruit I’ve ever seen and we didn’t even have to teach you in the first place. I know you’re Draven’s golden child, but he can’t keep you on the ground forever, kid.”

“You can’t call me ‘kid’, I’m older than you.” You laugh, shoving her shoulder with your own.

“You’re ruining the moment.” She winks, pressing a kiss to your temple before she waves at a commander calling her name and makes her way to her ship.

The datapad beeps a reminder from its resting place on your tool trolley, you need to pack for your intel grab. It shouldn’t be a long trip, Draven had assured you, a simple in and out: information in exchange for protection and transport to the base. Protection and transport optional. He makes the hard decisions, you’ve learned during your time running the smaller missions for intelligence. The more important runs get given to rebels like Cassian Andor and the group of mercs you’d seen filing into the command room a few days ago. It was an odd combination, seeing people like that somewhere like this, and you know you shouldn’t have stared but you couldn’t help yourself. Weapons strapped to every empty space on each body, armour and clothes on a number of species from all across the galaxy. One of them had looked jarringly like you, although you hadn’t really gotten a good look at their face before they’d disappeared.

Just this mission, and you’d be in the air next week. Hopefully. It’s enough to get your feet moving towards the barracks to pack.

You only need the basics, a change of clothes and some medkit refills. Just in case. Except there’s still an empty space when you zip it shut, sitting heavy between your neatly folded shirts and the top of the bag, and you keep looking at your blanket. It gets cold in hyperspace, a voice in the back of your mind pipes up, and you decide that’s good enough reason as any to fold it in alongside your supplies. It smells solidly of the clean soap of your bedsheets, his scent - Din’s scent, a mix of metal and warmth - had faded before you even plucked up the courage to go looking for the Rebellion, all those months ago. You still hold it to your nose for a moment, just to check, before it too gets folded and laid in the top of your pack.

Now you’re ready.

Din isn’t overly fond of Nevarro. It’s not an unbearable heat, the dry plains are to thank for that, but he’s not a fan of days where the wind picks up and carries the sulphur of the lava fields under the lip of his helmet. The covert welcomed him back, more or less with open arms - though he’s not sure if their ever-dwindling numbers might have had anything to do with the warm reception. He hadn’t let them go without a cut of his pay for every job he’d done for Ran, always sending something back to the foundlings, so at least he hadn’t totally abandoned them. The Armourer decided he should be their beroya , their bounty hunter, and within days he found himself tracking a quarry in a system he’d never heard of. It was easy, really, to take the skills he’d garnered all his life and apply them to this. Paz had laughed with the familiarity of an old friend and told him that if a skinny thing like Din was their beroya , they were all fucked. So at least no one was openly angry that he’d left them.

The guild rep slides a puck across the table, metal scraping against the stone, and the blue hologram flickers. The human man staring back at him is unassuming, but the notes suggest otherwise. A former senator’s assistant, with strong connections to both the Empire and the Rebellion. Din nods, flicking the puck off and tucking it into his pocket without another word.

His loyalty is to the covert, to the Mandalorians. It always has been and it always will be. This is the way. But one mention of the Rebellion has his mind surging back to thoughts of you. Everything in his life seems to. Every time he sets foot on the Crest all he can see is you, bent double with your head in an access panel and a greasy rag tucked into the back of your pants. He’d see the sun and remember how you always used to turn your face to it, just for a moment, whenever the team ran jobs planetside. You’d never told him where you came from, but Ran had let bits and pieces slip over the years. In the looming shadow of the Razor Crest, Din wonders if you ever made it off the station. If you decided to drop everything and find the rebellion, the way you said you would when you were half asleep on his chest, your mind fucked out and hazy. He hopes you did.

The tracking fob brings him to a semi populated planet, somewhere near the border of the Unknown Regions. Vast swathes of land and water are completely uncolonised, left to nature, only a few cities dotted here and there over the whole planet. The bounty is evidently in possession of some brains, having chosen a mid-sized city to get lost in, and Din is almost disappointed that he knows it won’t take long. Wishes he’d picked a different puck, a little further away. Just to keep his mind occupied and out of more dangerous territories.

He stays vigilant, but pays no mind to the beeping of the fob on his belt. He can steal a moment, he thinks, to take in the area. To live the life of some extravagant explorer in his mind while he does a little recon, the life he might have led before it was cruelly snatched away in seconds on Aq Vetina. The last thing he expects to see when he walks into that crumbling little cantina is you.

Din spins on his heel and is out of the door almost as soon as he enters, slipping down the alley to the side of the building to catch his breath. He’s fairly sure you don’t notice - but his mind is reeling, echoes of the vows he swore as a child and the Armourer’s words swirl in his ears.

His loyalty is to the covert. His loyalty is to the covert. His loyalty is to the covert. 

But he only sees you. The way you always had time for him back on the station, how you told the others where they could shove it but always gave him a smile. You went above and beyond to help him without complaint when he asked, only ever got snippy with him when someone else had pissed you off first. He still remembers the way you felt in his hands, how you sounded, how you tasted. He still thinks about it on quiet nights, more often than he should. This is not the place to remember, there’ll be time for that later, although his body needs another minute to be completely convinced.

All he feels is guilt, once the blood comes back up to his brain. Guilt over the covert, over his vows and his creed and his people. But what’s more convincing is the guilt he has over you. Over how he just walked away, left you sleeping, and took the ship you’d spent months working on. Even if you were the one who told him to take it. You’re beautiful, still. Of course you are, you always have been to him. 

You notice when he walks in this time.

The sunlight streaming in from a window catches on the glass of his visor and your heart jumps into your throat. You don’t know if he’s spotted you yet, as he takes a seat at a table by the door angled away from you. Logically, you’d say it could be any Mandalorian. But you spent countless hours studying the way he moves, you had to know his gait to know if walking around a corner would get you killed or not. It almost had on more than one occasion. You could recognise his footsteps anywhere.

The untrained eye would think him relaxed, as relaxed as a man in head to toe armour can be, but you know better. There’s a tension in his shoulders, the same he used to get when Xi’an made another move on him with that grating giggle or Qin handled a blaster too roughly. His hand sits on his thigh, fingers splayed, ready to find the smooth contours of his blaster at any moment. Ever the soldier, never quite at ease. Apart from the last time you thought you’d ever see him, it seemed.

He leaves before you’re even done with your drink, sitting there for barely five minutes when he throws a couple of credits on the table for a drink he didn’t buy and stalks out. You sigh and down the rest of your drink, hoping it’ll quell the nausea rising in your stomach. It doesn’t, but you follow him out all the same.

You’re sure you were right behind him, weaving through the slowly emptying streets as the sun sets and the chill of the night begins to settle in, but now he’s nowhere to be found. Until you feel a set of eyes land heavily on your shoulders. You turn, slowly, and catch a glimpse of where he ducked into a narrow alley. The city’s full of them, but you’re certain he hadn’t been there when you passed it.

A long moment passes when you’re swallowed by the shadow of the buildings towering either side of you, a moment where he just watches you. You can’t deny you’re watching him too, carefully surveying his armour for new nicks and scrapes. There’s more than you’d like to admit to caring about.

“What are you doing here?” He breaks the silence, the tension, first. You shrug. 

“Working, what are you doing here?”

Din holds a small round disk in his palm, arm stretching out towards you as the holo flickers to life and you’re faced with your contact for the intel drop.

“Working.”

Fuck.

And that’s when a really, really bad idea starts to take shape.

i don't have access to my old taglist forms anymore so feel free to message or drop me an ask if you want to be tagged in future :)

#summary is i love shara bey and i want to be her best friend end of chapter #lacuna #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #star wars fic #the mandalorian fic #liz does words

[homemantis]

Going off of this!!

I’d like to share my own take on Craig Tucker in regards to how I view him, + his asd. He’s my little meowmeow and I chose how to write him. >:) Oh my god this is a mess of thoughts. Some headcanons, some just straight up analysis. While I do enjoy a lot of fanon portrayals of Craig (and Tweek) as they are all valid and fun in their own ways and I love seeing everyone’s takes on them, I definitely do have my own favorites. There is no one way to interpret a character after all! That being said, Craig Tucker is a LOSER (affectionate). He’s a cringefail loser nerd and I hope he knows it. This man is a nerdy hyperfixated disaster who on the surface level only has three moods: bitchy, neutral, and adoration. He’s a sarcastic little bitch who always complains about the fucking bizarreness of everything that's going on around him. He does not want any part of it. He will flip it off. He will flip his family off. He will flip you off. He will flip off god. However, in some instances, family, friends and those special people (or guinea pigs) he doesn’t know how to express his emotions, and so he will fall back on the gesture as a means of affection. (i.e. when you insult your best friends as a sign of knowing each other for a long time sorta thing.) Most of the time, I think he’s just. Neutral. He’s going through life as boringly as he can and he likes it that way. He even brings this up: “Boring, just the way I like it.” And I hate to reach here, but as someone with autism myself, and I know others with this condition, a lot of the time we HATE change. Routines, schedules, boringness, its just the way to be, it’s not scary or weird, it’s just normality in a world of bizarreness. I don’t want to go on a spontaneous adventure, I need time and preparation to do things outside of normalcy, even if it is fun and a good change, I will need time to adjust. I could see Craig 100% being the same way.  Even in ‘Tweek x Craig’ he’s especially upset about the towns attention on him, as being in a ‘relationship’ with Tweek is a big change and is the first out of him and Tweek to go out of the way to try and solve the issue via the fake breakup. Another point here is his ‘problem-solving’ attitude. In ‘Put It Down’ he tries to ‘solve’ Tweek’s anxiety by distracting him, when what he needed to do was just talk to Tweek about his feelings. I’ve actually seen other autistic people say that this episode taught them how to better empathise with others, and truly it’s a guiding point for me as well! It’s a genuine good reminder to me that when my friends are upset maybe the best thing to do is just listen and affirm feelings. Thanks Craig :) Once again, he always has a neutral expression, he doesn't smile often and we don’t even see him smile much in tfbw when your character takes a selfie with him. I like to hc that he just has a resting bitch face lmao. But a lot of autistic people genuinely struggle to convey or even feel emotions in the same neurotypical way. This can often be called masking, and because I don’t want to ramble for forever, I definitely recommend looking up autistic masking for yourself. His voice is even neutral and monotone, which can be an autism thing! Some asd individuals have trouble putting emotion into their voices and can seem un-caring, when thats not true, and it’s just more natural to be monotone. I definitely don’t think Craig is without emotions, he’s just not going at expressing his feelings (which I’d love to talk about in contrast for his relationship with Tweek but that’s for another day as this post is long enough). For example, he does seem worried about Tweek’s anxiety in ‘Put It Down’ and even asks how Tweek is when they’re broken up in tfbw. He’s worried about how others see him being gay in ‘Tweek x Craig’ and he’s infamously known for his love for his guinea pig, who he’s upset at the notion of someone insulting the love for his pet in ‘Tweek vs Craig’. Anyway, why do I think he’s a loser? Well as @craigrights put it in our dm’s, Craig:

- gets NO bitches except one meth addict

- needs braces

Which. Yeah. Thank you Syd, you’ve summed it up. (Yeah absolute hc that he has fucked up teeth and needs to wear braces lmao.) But other then that, I love the popular fanbase headcanon that Craig is just a major nerd for space stuff. He has space memorabilia around his bedroom from what we can see in tfbw. I’d also like to note that aside from the little boxes on the floor, which can be probably cleaned up in a minute or two, his room is really clean! An absolute clean nerd (autism). Weirdo.

So yeah, I can absolutely see him being hyperfixated on space and astromony, and adores it. I can totally see him being super quiet only giving the occasional blunt one-liners but then flipping into rambling about space whenever you give him the chance. He loves Stripe, and all the variations of stripe over the years which is honestly really heart-warming. It really does crush the whole ‘bad-boy’ persona when some of the characters chalk him up to be a troublemaker. This kid loves animals. DORK.  Last thing is the fictional red racer tv show, I could sooo see him having a mini-fixation on it too. When Cartman asks him to fight Tweek in ‘Tweek vs Craig’ he responds that he’ll only do it after red racer. THIS BOY HAS WORKED RED RACER INTO HIS AUTISM SCHEDULE.. A LOSER. Anyway this was an absolute ramble!! And not even all my thoughts on this character, I’m forgetting a LOT and it’s sorta sad how much I could probably add to this. I could also talk a bit about his character relationships in my own personal au? headcanon? Idk what you’d call it. I’d love to ramble about Tweek too, and especially Creek headacnons as a whole as I had to personally hold myself back from adding a bunch of Creek into this ramble. I love them too much I’m sorry.  Anyway, let me know if you want to hear anything more about the topics listed above! You guys are epic, thanks for listening. <3333

#craig tucker #south park #analysis #rambles #Mantis Rambles #tweek tweak #sp creek

[mbti-notes]

Anon wrote: Hello, mbti-notes! I will quit trying to be creative and will just thank you for this blog. I always come here when I need to somehow freshen up my thoughts. I like your approach and your wording.

I was going to ask you a question about a better way of socialising, but before that I wanted to explain my current mental state. It got long, sorry in advance.

So, lately I have been socialising my a** off. Like literally hopping on every opportunity to have a conversation with anybody. Even with people that I feel no sympathy for and initially despise. I tried to prove to myself a theory that I can have a nice conversation with any kind of person. For what?

Maybe, I am thinking, I was just trying to become a «better adult». I have always been told by my parents and elders that I am a sloppy, slow to react child, that is spending too much time in its head. And I felt uncomfortable with that. Though I doubt anyone would be comfortable with listening to such half-teasing accusations )). But I respect and love my elders, though can be bitter sometimes. Unconditional love is a thing, yeah. No one is perfect.

And I just tried to prove myself that I can be that easy-going, light, happy person. I tried and I succeeded. Because you think what you believe - in a lot of cases. And you can go a pretty long way with silencing that tiny voice in your head that keeps asking: «Is that the real you? Why are you trying to become the person that you despise the most? And why do you not feel anything?»

But because there is (Thank God!) such thing as one’s nature, I am entering my usual state currently. With constant cold showers of mild social anxiety, but having my own projects back on the forefront and exploring new interesting topics that fill me with knowledge (and thus providing comfort/sense of self).

But there is a doubt in my head that is always present: may it be that I am just «slacking off»? Not doing enough of my Extraverted Feeling exercises? Should I go back to caring about people around me even if it seems to be pointless, emptying all of my resources and making me feel miserable and hollow? Maybe it is true that «what doesn’t kill me makes me stronger» and I should continue this slightly destructive way of self-exploration?

Because of those constant intrusive (and self-deprecating) thoughts I feel the need to go back in time somehow. In a way, return to the foetus version of me and tell it to feel less guilty for not liking people around it, for not having answer for everything and being a little bit slow to grow up. And maybe take with me that precious naivety of my younger self, that openness which helped me overcome dark pessimistic thoughts with ease.

But I based my whole socialising experiment on trying to prove that the child me was wrong. That elders are right because they are more experienced and know the flow of things better. Simultaneously, though only a little bit, it helps with fear of dying a mediocre person. At least there is a possibility that you will gain «enlightenment» skill with age. It could have been worse, right?

And of course it is not my first experiment. I did a lot of it in my teens too. Now I am just being more conscious about the steps that I am taking.

And my sentences may be lacking structure, that’s why I will try to sum up everything I wrote in one question. If you would be so kind, please answer. I would really appreciate your feedback.

My question:

Is there some better way to stop feeling disgusted with yourself while trying to socialise, other than just straight-up ignoring your feelings and discomfort?

Example:

I am talking with a person. At some point I understand that I do not care about them. Then I feel hollow, because somewhere deep I start to feel that I sincerely do not care for anyone. I even question if I have any feelings at all. Maybe I am just a piece of egotistic shit and that is all to me. To avoid this dark thought I just throw it away. Stuff it in a metaphorical drawer. And maybe try to justify my lack of empathy by thinking that we are all the same and I am not the only one with a social mask. And maybe feel manipulated/tricked by society/media/literature/art for putting in our minds this concept of sincere empathy afterwards.

Thank you for finishing my long ask!

Hoping to receive a reply.

An INTP (early twenties, female)

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

I appreciate that you have a desire to improve yourself and I certainly wouldn't want to discourage you. However, I would never suggest anyone try your method. What can I say when people go against my advice? Your case is a textbook example of two mistakes I have repeatedly warned people about:

1) It is important to wait until one is psychologically mature enough to pursue inferior function development, otherwise, one could easily get trapped in inferior grip. You are not yet at the stage of ego development where healthy inferior function development is possible or desirable. The results of your "experiment" only confirm this.

2) It is important to approach type development with the right intention, armed with the right understanding of its grand purpose, otherwise, one is likely to exacerbate developmental issues or create even more. Your motivation for function development was suspect from the start. It is apparent in your admissions that you are driven by ego, childishness, and faulty reasoning (that keeps you trapped in your own world of distorted beliefs).

Why do people socialize? They need relationship. To be successful in interpersonal relationships, you have to: invest in strengthening relationship bonds over the long term; care about psychological well-being; open yourself up to being seen and loved. It doesn't sound like any of this was happening. How can a proper relationship form when your intention in socializing is merely to prove some imaginary point? Other people don't really exist for you except as objects to be used and discarded once the point is proven. There is no "social" in your socializing. There is no "Feeling" in your Extraverted Feeling actions.

As far as I can tell, one reason you've faltered is that you don't know what exact problem you're trying to solve. From your description, it seems the main problem is a lack of feeling and empathy. Forcing yourself into inappropriate socializing situations isn't going to solve this problem. If lack of feeling/empathy is indeed at the root, then you ought to focus primarily on it. Lack of feeling/empathy isn't a crime and doesn't automatically make you a bad person; it is a legitimate psychological issue that people experience for a variety of possible reasons. Take time to understand how and why you suffer from this issue. Perhaps consult some experts on the matter.

Putting yourself down or destroying yourself is unnecessary and counter-productive. Self-denial and self-hatred are major impediments to personal growth. If you truly want to grow as a person, the first thing you have to do is face facts and accept the truth of what you are, rather than live in a fantasy world where you believe that weaknesses and faults can be eliminated with the wave of a magic wand. Only by being seated firmly in reality will you have the right frame of mind to learn effective coping and adaptation strategies to make the best of what you have.

#intp #empathy #development #self esteem #self worth #ask