♤ 𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐥!𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬 ♤

LaDs' Rafayel rambling — "Oceanic Nightfall" tender moments

!!!!!slight poilers ahead. I also made a comparison with Caleb after his return (*cough*, coming back from the dead - it's written in a small font if you wanna avoid reading it)

This man is so special to me, to be honest. Last night I watched one of his limited Tender Moments card, Oceanic Nightfall — and when I tell you that I was absolutely flabbergasted with how angsty it was. I saw the card's image and thought "oh, this is gonna be spicy". I was so mistaken, oh Gods 🥲

That card is anything but spicy; sure, there's a lot of tension between them in the second half of the card, my heart was doing gymnastics when she entered on him being ass naked in the bathtub with a paintbrush in his hand. I hadn't expected him to be so shameless, considering I don't think at that point they were exactly lovers (or probably just at the delicate line between friends and lovers). Not that surprising, because it's Rafayel, after all; he does act strange a lot of the time if we take into account the usual standards.

I adore the fact that MC didn't walk away and the fact that she didn't give in easily. She told him square in the face that his manipulation tactics don't go unnoticed by her and I absolutely adore that, lol. Yes, gurl, say it out loud for everyone to hear.

Also, she calls him annoying and he seems to be pleased by that. Rafayel is so pleased with the fact that she does view him differently than others.

I have to admit that his tantrum with the glass had my jaw drop to the floor because I absolutely despise such behavior — I am hater through and through of that gesture, especially since she hadn't done something deserving of such a reaction.

Let's take another scenario as a comparison: when MC throws a glass at Caleb for what he's done to her, for locking her in his apartment and being an ass with his overprotective, obsessive tendencies. I completely understand her point of view and I think he deserved it, to be frank (as someone that appreciates and loves him as a character overall). I think she should've done worse, if you ask me, but that's another story (I am a hater of controlling behavior, sorry not sorry)

Actually, Rafayel's gesture triggered me. It took me several seconds to process what happened because I couldn't believe it — to the point I'm not even sure if the glass just slipped from his hand or if he really threw it on the floor (I'll do a rerun of that card just to be sure, but I don't think I misinterpreted it).

Despite it all, that made me fall for his character even more. This is a card from the beginning of their relationship, since before they even got a chance to kiss, so I think that makes it even more interesting. In later cards and events, it is shown how complex Rafayel is; he is deeply in love with her and stops his manipulative tendencies. The only people he's cruel with have nothing to do with her. Their begining seems very abrupt and he does act like an absolute menace, like a pitiful crybaby sometimes.

Later on, these moments just end up being part of who he is as a person. I know I kind of bullied him in this post until now. Truth be told, he's very mature and he's shown as being a very wise person, regardless of his childish tantrums — and they're not even exactly childish, they're just part of a very troubled personality. He's shown taking care of MC, protecting her, giving her wise advice in a way someone very old would. His soul is, indeed, old, especially since he remembers his past lives. He's watched the world change and crumble before his eyes and he's still there, in Linkon.

Rafayel can be a child in a good way, like the time when they ran in the rain together because he never did that (he's a Lemurian, it doesn't rain underwater); in several tender moments, he encourages MC to be kinder with herself, to find herself in the small things of life, to pursue her little dreams and the bigger ones. His devotion to her is undeniable, and as time passes by, there are less and less tantrums from him. It's almost as if he's found his own emotional security and stability once she appeared in his life.

Even in this card, Oceanic Nightfall, Rafayel tells her that he's changed since she appeared in his life. She questions his strange behavior and it seems like he's a bit self destructive — that makes him such a relatable and real character.

Rafayel is full of flaws and insecurities and they make him so much more beautiful; he's perfect because of his own imperfections and I love him that way. He shows that he tries to change for the better, even if it's shown as a slow process. Also, he does that for her alone. He doesn't care about other people and I think that's very interesting. I like him a little cruel, a little heartless; he has all the rights to be, considering his life (or lives) as a Lemurian.

Also, if anyone has some thoughts about this, you can share them <3 I'd be happy to hear some more opinions on this (I know that the Rafayel girlies are down bad for him exactly because he's got a twisted personality and I wholeheartedly agree 😫)

@lunariadew asked: 'Can you write a poly fic maby like a feel good fic or date night or something with all the boys! I’m greedy and I think there’s not enough poly fics as there should be'

Nothing profound this time around! Just some good old-fashioned shenanigans. I've wanted to do a fic with all the boys for SO long (Infold, hire me to write a sitcom-style show for the guys, PLEASE) I've kept it platonic since it's early stages; it's open to interpretation about how many sparks are flying and between whom exactly..... 👀 But if ppl want more of this, I'm all over it. Platonic or romantic? I'll play it by ear!

Game Night

L&DS Boys X Reader

Summary: The most important men in your life can manage one evening together, right? For you? Please? Pretty please?

Genre: Fluff + humour

Warnings/Additional Tags: f!reader, some swearing, a lil conflict, non-canon (I know some of the guys probably know each-other but we're pretending they don't 😇)

| Word count: 4k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

“Rafayel… what do you think this is?”

The artist stands at your open door, wearing a self-assured smile and one of the flashier outfits you’ve seen him in, and that’s really saying something. Between you is a bouquet of lilies, petals curled like frozen licks of fire that compliment— deliberately, if you had to guess— the warmer fires within his eyes. Those eyes narrow at your question.

“What do you think it is?” he says suspiciously, lowering the flowers.

“…Game night?”

You’re not sure why you phrase it so tentatively. You know what it is; you’re the host. You open your door wider, stepping aside to give Rafayel a better view of the apartment behind you, and the remainder of his smile sinks.

“Hi,” Xavier calls out, and you don’t have to see him to know he’s giving a wholesome sort of wave.

“Hi…” Rafayel answers, barely more than a whisper as his eyes flit between everyone else in the room, because he’s the last to arrive. “Game night, yeah,” he nods assertively, “I knew that.” Then a deep breath: “Can I, like, put these somewhere—”

“Kitchen counter,” you gesture.

“Got it.” He doesn’t have to be told twice.

Closing the door behind him, you watch as he skirts past the lounge and makes for your kitchen, where another bouquet already lies waiting. He zeroes in on it. “Looks like mine’s not the only heart you’re breaking tonight, huh, cutie? What are these—” he pokes at a petal— “daturas?”

“They’re her favourite,” speaks a distinctly low voice.

Rafayel doesn’t look up. He plonks his bouquet on top of the other and winces: “They’re really not, though.”

“He’s right,” you chip in, giving Sylus a sheepish smile, and now Rafayel looks up, beaming.

“She likes roses,” Zayne says, with the calm confidence he’d quote a medical journal. On the sofa beside him, Xavier nods, and you grin at them both.

“Noted,” Sylus chuckles.

Rafayel’s less convinced. “Since when?!”

“Since forever, Raf. I like lilies too, so I didn’t say anything, ‘kay?” You beckon him back to the lounge, ignoring his splutters of disbelief. “C’mere, let me introduce you to everyone.”

The man slinks to your side like a reluctant shadow, and your hands find your hips. “This is Zayne. Xavier,” you point out, putting faces to names; Rafayel’s heard stories about each. Then you nod towards Sylus. “Over there’s Skye.”

From his place by the window, Sylus lifts a hand in greeting.

“So… yeah,” you finish. Oh, wait! “Guys, this is—”

“They know who I am,” Rafayel shrugs, his fame apparently heavy on his shoulders. He glances around the room for validation, but he gets none, so he tries again. “You do know who I am, right?”

“Sorry,” Xavier admits with an awkward smile, glancing back at Sylus: you?

The man has to think about it. You know for a fact he’s traded more than one of Rafayel’s paintings for a profit, but he smirks and gives an even more exaggerated shrug than the artist himself.

Really?

“You’re Rafayel,” Zayne states plainly.

“Yeah! See, I told you, cutie—”

“You slipped on a paintbrush and checked yourself into Akso, right? The nurses still talk about it.”

Rafayel’s enthusiasm drains. He looks conflicted as he mulls over the additional information. “In, like, a good way?” he hazards.

Zayne stares back at him, wielding silence like a scalpel before cutting deeper with a: “…sure.”

You bite back a smile. Leaving the two to discuss the finer details of Rafayel’s notoriety at the hospital, you wander over to the kitchen, where you fish out a vase from the back of a cupboard. You fill it, set it down on the counter, then reach for Sylus’s bouquet. There’s a black satin ribbon; you untie it.

“Are you sure this is a good idea, sweetie?” asks the man himself, joining you discreetly.

The others can’t really hear you— they’re still talking. “What,” you smirk, retrieving your scissors from a drawer, “you worried Xavier’s gonna arrest you?”

Sylus laughs lowly, quietly. “That’s adorable.”

“Good.” You pick up a flower and trim a leaf from the stem. “Because even if he wanted to—” you wave it, just short of his face— “I’d protect you, ok?”

He regards the flower beneath his nose. Smiles smugly. “These can be toxic, sweetie.”

“Really? Whoops.” You put it down, then snatch up a lily from Rafayel’s bouquet. “En Garde!”

“These too.”

“What the hell?”

The flame-red flower drops from your fingers, and Sylus laughs more sincerely. “Stick to roses, kitten. Or…” He moves his hand over his deconstructed bouquet, his Evol pruning the rest of the leaves from the stems. A tendril of it gathers the flowers, delivering them to him so he can hold them out to you with a flourish. “Live dangerously. Who am I to judge?”

You take them, then plop them into the vase. “Cute.”

“I’m here all week,” he grins. “You’d better wash your hands, hmm?”

With a hmph of agreement, you turn to the sink. You spend half a minute, rubbing soap and warm water over your hands, and when you turn back around— still drying them— something is different. The lilies are gone. Sylus is looking at you, innocuous.

“Real mature, Skye.”

He makes no effort to defend himself. You’re about to tell him that his magic better extend to making flowers reappear when your attention is whipped back to the lounge. The voices from that side have raised, so you lean forward on your kitchen island, watching their owners in a sort of stakeout.

“I take it you have a plan,” Sylus whispers, leaning with you.        

You look at him. He looks back. “The plan is for hosts,” you scold, “not guests.” He’s much too close so you step away, reaching for the vase of daturas and holding them threateningly out, like you’re not afraid to use them. “Go back to the guests, deserter.”

Sylus lifts his hands in surrender, smirking in a way that says he knows he’s met his match. You shoo him further, back into enemy lines, then resume your stakeout. Xavier is sharing his own “embarrassing” medical story— talking about a time where he once passed out from exhaustion while fighting at your side, and you think it’s supposed to make Rafayel feel better.

It doesn’t, of course, and even Zayne is gazing down at the floor, self-conscious.

Sylus meets your eyes across the room, signals with a tip of his head: now's a good time for that master plan, sweetie.

Right. Your plan. Your master plan, yeah.

…

“You should have picked the doctor.”

Sylus’s words are near-silent: for you, not anyone else, and you pretend you don’t hear them. “But no,” he carries on, because he knows you can, “you just had to have the artist.”

“It’s Pictionary!” you snap, drawing all eyes in the room.

Lounging beside you, Sylus feigns an amused surprise, as though he hasn’t just been trying to elicit that exact reaction. On the other sofa, Zayne and Xavier stare, taken more genuinely aback. You give a smile of apology.

“Guys, concentrate!” Rafayel clicks his fingers at you. He’s stood in the centre of the space by a large drawing pad, and he goes back to frantically sketching on it. The drawing is… interesting. Abstract. Maybe even beautiful? But you don’t have a clue what it is.

“Thirty seconds,” warns Zayne, studying the little egg-timer he’s guarding.

You tilt your head at the drawing. There’s maybe a— wait, where did those extra colours come from? Where did he even get those pens? Anyway… there’s a circle. “A globe?” you guess. “Earth! No? Umm… oh! The sun! The moon!”

Rafayel shakes his head with every suggestion, adding even more intricate, unhelpful scribbles. Is that a fifth pen?! You nudge your other teammate, calling for back-up.

Sylus regards the drawing listlessly. “A unicorn.”

“What?!” Rafayel’s tone has reached a pitch that almost makes you wince. “No! C’mon, are you even trying?”

“No,” Sylus lilts with a pleasant smile, lifting the drink he’s been nursing to his lips.

You kick his foot. “A bowl of fruit!” you exclaim, determined to make up for the lack of enthusiasm. “A plate? A plate with food? Breakfast! Lunch! Dinner!”

“Time’s up,” Zayne interrupts, and it’s a mercy, really; you deflate with a sigh.

Rafayel puts his hands on his hips as he takes a step back to observe his work. He tucks four fine-liners back into his pocket— purses his lips as though he really can’t see a problem— and he’s keeping you all in suspense.

Sylus is up in an instant, stealing a card from where it’s been discarded on the coffee table. He reads the answer, then rolls his eyes. The original pen was also abandoned, so he plucks it up, then strides to the drawing pad.

He draws an oval. Then a triangle.

“A fish! A fish!” you cry out.

“You’re good at this, sweetie,” Sylus grins. He puts the lid on the pen with a click before dropping it into Rafayel’s hand.

“Is it my turn?” Xavier asks, trying to relieve the tension of the room. He gets up and smiles as Rafayel passes him the pen. “Your drawing is pretty. The composition is really—”

“Don’t,” Rafayel says. “Like, thanks? But don’t.”

“Fair enough,” Xavier chuckles.

You all prepare for the next round: Zayne handing you the egg-timer, Xavier re-organising the stack of prompt cards. Sylus takes a photo of the drawing pad before ambling back over— a moping Rafayel in tow— and they both sink down either side of you. You glance at the latter, giggling. “A fish, Raf? Really?”

“So I didn’t just wanna draw you some basic fish, ok?” The artist crosses his arms with a pout. “But fine, enjoy mediocrity, I guess.”

To your left, Sylus raises his glass in toast to the notion. There’s a noise: Xavier tearing the used page from the pad. You look up. “Xavier, can I have that?”

“Sure.” He brings it over to you.

You look at the drawing again, holding it at arm’s length and rotating it experimentally. You’re seeing a lot, but nothing that screams ‘fish’. There’s a circle, still. Oh! “It’s a fish bowl! Wait, wait, wait— is that Reddie?”

“Yeah!” Rafayel beams.

“Aww!”

The renewed team spirit drops off with Sylus; he’s on his phone, not paying attention. He seems to sense your scrutiny because he peers up, gives a ghost of a smile, then returns to whatever he’s doing. Meanwhile, Xavier is ready for his turn, so he signals for you to start the timer. You give him a thumbs up as you turn it over. “Go!”

He starts drawing.

“A car,” Zayne guesses after all of five seconds. Correct. Next. “A river? No. Oh. A snake.” Yes. “A cupcake?” Also yes. (In fairness, he was never going to struggle with that one.) “A person? Ok. Oh, a scientist, no? Ah, a doctor.” Yes again, and really— what?

Zayne continues to list correct answers, though thankfully, that’s the last of the coincidences. You watch on, vaguely in awe, until you feel your phone buzz in your pocket. You check it casually, aware that Sylus is next to you, looking down at it too.

It’s a text from him: The drawing… Can I have it?

You glance up at him subtly, meeting his eyes and giving a discreet yet firm shake of your head. He frowns. You’re not having this debate here, now, so you let your gaze return to the drawing pad while idly retrieving your drink.

A few seconds later, there’s another text: Found buyer

Then another: Quarter of a mil

You almost choke on that drink.

“Umm… cutie?” Rafayel asks, poking you. He points at the timer you’ve left on the coffee table, and the top half is empty.

“Shit, yeah. That’s time!” you call.

Xavier stops drawing. The small, crude sketches behind him have reached double digits. He looks really proud. “Great! How many was that?”

His eyes find you. Zayne and Rafayel’s, too. Were you supposed to be counting? Uh—

“Eleven,” says Sylus, and it’s way too smug to be a lie.

“Awesome!” Xavier flips the drawing pad over to where you’ve been tallying point totals. He adds eleven marks to one side. “That’s—” he counts both— “ah, thirty-three to nine.”

A silence falls over the room. Unsure of what else to do, you give a half-hearted round of applause and Xavier laughs awkwardly, still humble, despite it all. “I think we’re kinda done with Pictionary, yeah?” you suggest, rising from your seat. “I should probably get started on food, anyway.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that.”

The insistence came from Xavier, and you freeze suspiciously; he’s never turned down free food.

“You’ve already done so much,” he explains, “setting this all up for us. You should relax, really! Leave it to me.”

The word ‘relax’ is not synonymous with the image of Xavier anywhere near your kitchen, but he’s looking at you so earnestly, blue eyes brimming with warmth, and what are you supposed to say? No thanks, Xavier— I value my life? Everyone’s watching you. Gods help you. “That’s really sweet, Xavier. Thanks.”

Your fellow Hunter’s smile widens even more. He heads off to the kitchen, a spring to his step that makes your heart sink with dread. “Actually—” you glance at your ex-teammates— “could you two go help him? Zayne and I’ll tidy up over here.”

Rafayel and Sylus do as they’re asked, even though their expressions remind you that cooking is not, typically, a three-man job. It’s tactical, though. You wanted a moment alone with Zayne. “Are you ok?” you ask, once the others are out of earshot. “I know this must all be a lot. The guys can be, well… yeah.”

He knows what you mean, right?

Zayne has slipped away from the couch; he’s crouched on the floor, collecting a few prompt cards that have wandered astray. He glances up at you, pushing his glasses back on his nose. “I’m ok,” he assures with a fond smile. “Thank you, though.”

“You’re welcome.” He hands you the cards and you slot them back into their deck. Then you turn to the drawing pad. “You and Xavier make a good team, huh?”

The doctor straightens to his full height. “Mmm. It helped that we didn’t spend the entire game comparing the size of our… drawing abilities.” 

You laugh unashamedly. The pen’s still at-hand, so you pick it up— reward another point.

Zayne chuckles.

“Food’s gonna be a while.”

You both turn, following the voice back to Sylus, who has apparently decided he’s had his fill of kitchen duty. What was that— a minute? He seems to have anticipated your dissatisfaction, because he’s brought a bribe with him: the box of chocolates that had come with his bouquet. It’s already open and he holds it out, tempting you.

He’s right— you don’t know when you’ll next be eating— so you select a heart-shaped chocolate, popping it into your mouth with a smile and a muffled: “thanks.”

Sylus smiles back. Then he holds the box out to Zayne. “Doctor?”

It takes a nod of encouragement from you to prompt Zayne into taking something. He chooses a white chocolate truffle, mumbles his own thanks, but Sylus doesn’t relent— not yet. He shakes the box slightly, incitingly, and he doesn’t move it away until Zayne takes two more.

Your physician shoots you a surreptitious smile as Sylus falls back onto the couch, content he’s won your hearts, and that he won’t be sent back to the kitchen anytime soon. His long fingers lift another chocolate from the box, and he meets your eyes as he slips it slowly past his lips, humming like he’s enjoying himself.

You cross your arms, unimpressed. He gives you the least convincing look of innocence you’ve ever seen.

There’s an exclamation from the kitchen: “Hey, where did my flowers go!?” 

Shit. You hastily push the drawing pad aside then scurry over to assist Rafayel. You don’t have a plan, exactly; it’s not like you can help him look for them. “Umm… they’re around, Raf. I moved them somewhere safer, that’s all.”

“Where?”

“Uh—”

“Does it matter?” Sylus speaks from behind you, because he and Zayne are close at your heels. “She said they’re somewhere safe.” He leans on the kitchen island. “Don’t you trust her?”

Rafayel scoffs. “I trust her plenty.”

“So prove it. Drop it.”

“Skye,” you caution, “stop.”

Sylus does stop, but not because you asked. He’s done enough already, hasn’t he? Rafayel is bristling with indignance— a lit fuse— and behind him, Xavier sneakily checks the trash can, looking relieved at what he doesn’t find. He gives you a subtle glance: Where actually are the flowers?

You lift a shoulder an inch: Beats me!

There’s a soft, almost imperceptible crackle, and it draws your eyes to the vase of daturas between you all. They’ve caught light— their petals twisting, darkening, within larger flowers of fire.

“Rafayel!” you gasp. “No, no, no, the fire alarm!”

The torched flowers are encased, all of a sudden, in a fine layer of shimmering frost. Sylus blinks down at them, unmoved by their destruction. Zayne’s hand is still outstretched, snowflakes etched over his palm. Then something… odd happens. The ice doesn’t stop. It spreads over the rest of the kitchen island, to all of your bewilderment.

“Zayne?” Your voice is fraught with worry, but you don’t give a damn about your kitchen.

The man winces, and you so rarely see him out of control. The silver-white patterns have crawled up his wrist, and the ice continues to spread; even Sylus steps back. Sharp, jagged crystals start to form— inching out towards everyone.

“Zayne!” you try again.

His chest rises as he drags air through his teeth; it looks like it hurts, but the ice does stop. The others are still, suspended by momentary uncertainty, and you rush to Zayne’s side, taking his hand.

“What the hell was that?” Rafayel remarks, shaking away his surprise and thawing an icicle that’s way too close for comfort.

“He wouldn’t have needed to use his Evol if you hadn’t used yours.”

It’s Xavier, strangely— you would have expected Sylus. The Hunter’s tone is gentle as always, but there’s something behind it, this time: a frustration that lends an edge.

Rafayel hears it too. “Hey, I’m not the one who started this!” He points to Sylus. “He—”

“Has been lighting fires all evening,” Xavier finishes. “But at least his were only figurative.”

Sylus laughs, and it’s the kind of laugh where you just know he’s vying to make things worse. “Look at that,” he says, “the boy next door can bite.”

Xavier’s eyes sharpen. Beside you, Zayne slips his hand from yours. It’s an instinct you know well. This moment is volatile, and you have to be ready. It could go a dozen different ways; it’s just waiting for a spark.

“Guys,” you manage to get out, “please, just… everyone, take a breath, ok? Everything’s fine, we just have to—”

A spark.

There’s smoke. Actual smoke. “Xavier, behind you!” Zayne alerts.

It’s creeping out of the oven and Xavier turns— eyes wide— to open its door before any of you can stop him. Thicker smoke billows out, filling the air, and you all scramble away from it. The fire alarm triggers. You think Rafayel’s shouting something, but you can’t really hear him. Then Sylus is shouting. Maybe even Zayne. The alarm is piercing your ears and making you dizzy— or is it the smoke?

You feel a hand on your shoulder and suddenly everything changes.

There’s cool air, brushing over your skin, and it’s dark; you’re outside the building. You can still hear the alarm, shrill but further away, and your window is easy to spot: there’s a red light flashing behind it. Sylus leans into your vision, saying your name.

“Stay here,” he tells you, “alright?”

He’s gone in another moment, lost to a flicker of crimson-black darkness.

Gods, you’re so stupid.

…

You sit on a short wall outside of your building, and the street is full of people. You recognise most of them: neighbours. Every single one is mad at you. You’re all waiting for the alarm to cut out— for the all-clear to be given. The fire wasn’t that serious in the end, but there’s still a procedure. You would know; this isn’t exactly your first evacuation.

The guys are safe, which is good, because it means you can kill them later. They’ve all gotten lost in the throng, and your neighbours can keep them. Maybe they’ll kill them for you.  

“Hey, cutie.”

You were staring down at your feet, but you look up at Rafayel’s voice. He’s coming towards you, evoking a sense of déjà vu, because he’s clutching a bouquet of flame lilies. That’s… the bouquet of flame lilies. How?

“Skye gave ‘em back to me,” he explains, chuckling at your expression, and he’s close enough now to hold the flowers out to you. “I don’t know where he was keeping them. His Evol’s weird, huh?”

“Yeah,” you say timidly, taking the bouquet and gazing down into the petals; they still smell sweet.

Rafayel sits next to you, shuffling close, and he leans his head on your shoulder with a tired sigh. You want to be mad at him. You really, really do— but you’re suddenly not.

“I’m sorry, Rafayel.” The admission barely makes it out of your throat.

You feel his head lift. “You’re sorry?”

“I know it was just a misunderstanding,” you speak into the flowers, “but tonight… wasn’t what you were expecting, I get it. I mean, I kinda threw you into the deep end with all this. You didn’t know you were gonna be around other people, and I—”

“Whoa— cut that out, yeah? You’re killing me, cutie. I spend the whole evening causing trouble, and you’re gonna take all the blame? Nope. Not happening. It was a collaborative effort at least, ok?”

You giggle. “Ok.”  

“Good.” His head slumps back down on your shoulder, and yours tilts to rest against it. “Thanks, though. Really,” he whispers, so quiet you almost don’t notice.

Footsteps and familiar voices draw you from the intimacy of the moment. The others are wandering back to you, having finally escaped the veritable mob of your neighbours. They all look tired.

Xavier settles down on the other side of you, and Zayne sits beside him. Sylus takes a seat next to Rafayel with a huff, but he’s not half as unhappy as he’s pretending to be.

All of you sit in silence, gazes flitting between your window— where there are still glimpses of moving figures— and everyone else who’s been evacuated. For the first time all evening, the quiet isn’t tense. It’s peaceful. Easy.

“We’ll do better next time,” Zayne speaks softly.

Next time? You scoff. “Do any of you actually want there to be a next time?”

“I had fun,” Sylus chuckles. He’s taken his coin from his pocket, and he flips it, amusing himself.

“I had fun too,” Xavier grins.

“Cooking again, Xavier?” quips one of your neighbours, as they happen to pass by.

The man beside you laughs, but you can tell it’s forced. Your hand finds his; you give it a little squeeze, letting him know that it wasn’t his fault. His heart was in the right place. It’s always in the right place.

You nudge Rafayel away from you so you can sit up straighter, your free hand rubbing your arm, caressing prickled skin. You’re about to ask for a jacket when something heavy drapes over your shoulders. It’s a coat— still warm— and its owner is stood behind you; you didn’t even notice him get up.

“Thanks, Sylus,” you smile.

All eyes turn to you. What are they—?

Oh.

Hi guys !

Just wanted to speak up for a bit about an issue I've seen on here. I won't give any names for obvious reasons, but I've seen users commissioning fics (asking for money against writing fics) and aside from the fact that it's against Tumblr's Policy, if you've been in fandoms since before 2020 you know why this is problematic for fandoms as a whole.

While asking for help is always okay to do if you're struggling, basically selling fics is not and if you don't know why (which is okay, the LADS fandom is fairly new and its fanbase as well so not everyone knows everything), let me explain it.

Fanfictions are and must remain free for the simple reason that, because it is based on existing licences to which we do not own the rights, profiting off of it is considered theft of intellectual property and breach of copyrights so it's, well, completely illegal.

The only reason companies are tolerating fanfictions' existence is BECAUSE it is free, it is a gift from a fan to their community. It is a work of love, not made for monetary gain but to share the love of a work with other fans of that work.

There have been instances of people trying to profit off of fanfics before, resulting in lawsuits that impacted the whole community of the fandom that it concerned (thinking about Anne Rice, Warner Bros, Patreon users being banned, the mature content purges on Fanfiction.net...).

The balance in fandom spaces is more fragile than we think, they are safe spaces because we created them with the same thought of protecting those spaces by respecting implicit rules of decorum, not profiting off of fics being one of those implicit rules.

We already know the original content of Love&Deepspace is heavily censored because of Chinese censorships and that Infold is greedy so imagine how they'd react if they knew people made money off of their work. It would not go well for anyone involved and the consequences for the community as a whole would be catastrophic.

Imagine if somehow this was the straw that breaks the camel's back and it brought some governments' attention on fanfiction, enough for them to make up laws to ban fanfiction altogether. No one wants that to happen. No one.

So please, if you happen to be one of those people and you're reading this. Don't be selfish. Think about the greater good. Don't ruin everyone else's safe place for your own personal gain. Thank you.

Ok, it looked fun so my turn !

Heart : I LOVE THIS

Thumbs up : Not my favorite trope but I like it

OK : I don't really care about this trope, don't particularly like it but don't don't dislike it either

Puppy peeking : Don't like it but will read it if I'm desperate

Mushroom : Absolutely not

something i found

in terms of entirely green or entirely blue i didnt get bingo </3

if u disagree with my choices send me the most 'this will fix you.' fanfic in my ask box. or argue idc

MY ADDENDUMS BC I LIKE TO OVEREXPLAIN also original under the cut

i am so neutral about most tropes its all about delivery jgkdshkdshgdk .... some of the yellow i would even say i dislike but the delivery can make me like it

a lot of the blue ones i would enjoy if there were some sort of subversion from the 'typical'/expected, or there's some layers. like if its an age gap i prefer an older woman-younger man. i like gentle dom and sub. i like necro if its angsty or yandere.

omegaverse is the bane of my existence i'm sorry. it feels like gender roles but if we made it lgbt but also if they were just kinda cishet LMFAOOO but dw i see the appeal! obviously, since theres purple. also i think sex is just funner when ppl do it just because. not because they literally have no choice due to biology

size difference overrated i'm sorry. i see the appeal though.

i made servitude orange but realistically i would enjoy it if its willing/devoted servitude. i was imagining forced servitude i guess.

original

tagging @sophiethewitch1 @hana-no-seiiki @arkhamshoneybee @couldeatthatgirlforlunch @obsessivevoidkitten @deviouz

only if u want!

REBLOG IF ITS OKAY TO TALK TO YOU.

Please.

Readers reading and daydreaming to escape the real world, because reality is shit :

LOCAL WORKAHOLIC DOCTOR NEEDS HIS SESSION TOO 🗣️🗣️🗣️

Caleb x Reader

A/N: Okay, so, this is my first attempt at writing fics since I was 15, the first time sharing it since I was 14 and my first time writing reader insert so... Please be nice, but do tell me what you think, it will help me get better ! I started with something that's not very long, hope that's okay ! Also, as good as my english is, it's not my first language, so if it's yours and you notice a grammatical error, do tell me so I can rectify it ! Anyway, here goes nothing...

______________________________________________________________

Word count : 798

Warnings : MC!reader, slight hurt/comfort, panic attack

You couldn't sleep.

Since you had come back from Skyhaven, you had been conflicted, unable to detangle the mess that was your brain at the moment. On one hand, you felt happy that Caleb was alive and well, but on the other hand, you felt something was… off with him. Like he wasn't the Caleb you knew in your childhood, while somehow still behaving like him towards you. It unsettled you deeply, but afterall, he was still Caleb, wasn't he ? He still called you the same stupid nickname, still teased you endlessly and still made sure you were healthy and happy. So why then did it feel like he was different ?

You figured, if you couldn't sleep, might as well try and see if you could reassure yourself somehow. You knew Caleb was likely to still be awake at this time, probably just coming back home from completing his duties as the Fleet's Colonel. So you did the only thing you could think of. You reached for your phone on your bedside table, unplugged it and after looking through your contacts, you dialed Caleb's number, bringing your phone up to your ear and laying back down.

The phone rang. And rang. And rang.

Just as you were about to give up, finally Caleb answered, sounding out of breath, like he had run a marathon. "Pipsqueak ? Why are you calling me at this hour ? Everythin' okay ?"

For a second, you froze, still not used to hearing his voice again. For a second, you felt relieved. Then you remembered how a phone call works and that you actually needed to answer him, so you said in a hesitant voice, "Uh, yeah ! Sorry, I'm totally fine, don't worry. It's just that I couldn't sleep and I missed you, so…"

You heard him chuckle at the other end of the line, the sound making you smile. "Damn, Pips, how would you live without me ?"

You laughed at his teasing words before remembering the whole year you had no choice but to spend living without him, your laughter dying in your throat. Suddenly, you felt like you couldn't speak, your throat closing in on itself and your chest aching. You couldn't breathe. Caleb, who knew you so well, picked up on what was happening immediately and began to panic, cursing himself for joking about this so carelessly, "Shit, I'm sorry Pips, I shouldn't have- Damn it. Okay."

He calmed himself down before saying in a soothing voice, "Everything's fine, Pipsqueak. Breathe. I'm here now, I'm alive and I won't leave you ever again, okay ? Breathe with me."

Hearing those words, that your foggy brain took a minute to understand, you slowly began to calm down, your breathing evening out as you followed his lead. You focused on his breathing, breathing along with him.

In. Out. In. Out. Then you let out a long sigh, the tension lifting off your shoulders slowly.

"Thanks… I'm sorry about that, it's still a bit fresh. Maybe avoid joking about it until I've had the time to diggest you being alive and back for good ?" you said when you finally came back to your senses.

"Yep. Totally. What do you say I cook something special for you next time you visit as my way of saying sorry ?" he said. You could hear from his tone just how guilty he felt for being the cause of your torment. He reminded you of a guilty puppy, and the mental image it summoned in your mind lifted your spirit as you pictured a puppy Caleb looking up at you with shiny eyes, ears flat on his head as he pleaded for your forgiveness.

You let him feel guilty for a few seconds before you answered, "Sure, sounds like a plan !"

"Great ! It's settled then. You should sleep now, Pips, it's late and tomorrow's not your day off, is it ?" he said, and for a second you wondered how he knew that tomorrow wasn't your day off but you chose not to question it too much. Instead, you answered "You're right, although that applies for you too, Colonel."

You heard him laugh softly before he replied, " You don't need to worry about me, Pips. But yeah, I'll get to bed soon, don't worry. So… Good night then ?"

"Yeah, good night. Sleep well." you said before hanging up and letting out a sigh. You dropped your phone on your bedside table yet again before letting your arms rest in a cross on your mattress.

You wouldn't know what changed about Caleb anytime soon, but as you closed your eyes and felt sleep overcoming your body, you thought that maybe this new version of him wasn't so bad. Afterall, he couldn't be that different if he still cared that much about you, right ?

Right ?

the sexual tension between me and the alternate reality i daydream about