#drowning in the indecision

[transkingcobra]

I wanna write bg3

But I wanna play bg3

But I wanna draw bg3

[crownkillers]

feeling all over the place this past week

[smor3whore]

I’m so fucking indecisive.

[the-cosmic-cauldron]

Astrology Observations 08/18/2024

 

Your Moon Sign and What’s Holding You Back

 

 

Aries Moon: Your ego holds you back in this lifetime. For you, Aries Moon, you have to learn to let things go and stop always trying to be right and to always overpower someone. Your power is within you, not over anyone else. It’s okay if people do not like your way of being, but stop convincing others of your worth. Again, this should be intrinsic to you and shouldn’t have to be proved. Lastly, just because you get attention doesn’t mean it’s good attention. Try to discern who is really for you and who is pulling energy from you.

 

Taurus Moon: You, Taurus Moon, need to break out of your routine. You guys think your lives are perfect because you think your routine is grounding you, when it’s actually holding you back. You guys are so particular about so many things in your lives that it’s overwhelming for you guys to ever see the bigger picture of life, and most of you get stuck in your routine, dead-end jobs, or living in places you don’t actually like. You guys always try to act like you can improve where you’re at, but your fear is losing what you know because the unknown is so scary. It can hold you back because you are such a perfectionist, and when you can’t live up to your own standards, you give up.

 

Gemini Moon: You guys let indecision hold you back. You guys think too much about decisions and weigh the pros and cons. You try to do things that will benefit your life, but often you guys let this need to have everything a certain way in your life hold you back from making decisions from your heart. You guys skip all over your emotions and act like everything has to be logically coded in order for it to serve a purpose in your life. That’s why it’s so easy for you guys to have such a strong ego towards what you view as right because you believe everything you do is right and makes sense. If you guys could only see that your emotions are important, you wouldn’t struggle so much with making decisions, nor would you always be focused on doing and being right.

 

Cancer Moon: What holds you back? The Cancer Moon is keeping everything inside of you. You sit and brood over everything and constantly spend time introspecting. You essentially drown yourself in your emotions and judge yourself too harshly for all that you’ve done. You spend too much of your time dwelling and, at times, even fantasizing about the past. You can drive yourself insane by piecing all the little parts of your life together and psychoanalyzing every move. Give yourself time to breathe and not be trapped in the confines of psychoanalysis.

 

Leo Moon: What holds you back? Leo Moon is your recklessness. Yes, seldom do you realize that life’s pleasures are not meant to be used every time you feel a negative emotion. Constantly trying to do something is what causes you to crash out. You often venture off and find yourself in bigger troubles and struggles than to begin with. You oftentimes find yourself believing in what you desire too much, and you can find yourself held back when challenges and obstacles come up, which makes you want to abandon your true goals. You want an easy life, and sometimes, as much as you’re ready for something, you’re just as ready to abandon it.

 

Virgo Moon: You’re held back by your pessimism and negativity. Yes, you are the kind of person who is straightforward, but oftentimes you, Virgo Moon, have black-and-white thinking. When things go wrong or bad in your life, you can’t see out of it and often cage yourself in this negativity, thinking that it is the basis of your reality. This essentially makes it so that you live a very sad and depressing life and use work, school, responsibilities, and drugs as the main form of living, which drains you of all your wonderful energy to give.

 

Libra Moon: Oftentimes, Libra Moon feels out of place and is around the wrong people. The issue is that you guys stay in rooms and places you’re not valued and wanted in, but you rationalize it. You rationalize too much, to the point where you don’t even understand what is truly going on. You stay in relationships, friendships, organizations, and jobs where you do not flourish. You let your head get in the way of great opportunities for your unique self to truly shine.

 

Scorpio Moon: You let your laziness hold you back. Yes, I said it. Although Scorpio’s are known to have tenacity, Scorpio moon often spends most of their time trying to escape reality rather than actually working to get better. It’s like instead of staying in reality, you guys retreat. Oftentimes, you guys will go to yourself so you don’t have to deal with the harsh realities; you’ll block out the world's noise, escaping with music, your hobbies, your phone, drugs, and alcohol. If you have a partner, you will use your partner to escape. You guys get super lazy, and then nothing changes in your life.

 

Sagittarius Moon: You guys let your impulsivity hold you back. Oftentimes, you guys don’t understand that your actions have long-term consequences and have such short sight of everything. You will make decisions that, in a couple of hours, you’ll be so upset and mad that you will impulsively do something just for it to make things even worse and harder for you in the future. Your short-term pleasure just turns into a hassle or headache. Sometimes you say things purely out of anger that ruin your relationships. You can dampen a lot of your life with these spontaneous decisions. It bites you in the butt, but you can’t stop yourself from thinking short-term. Your impulse control can be low and can hold you back in life.

 

Capricorn Moon: Capricorn Moon, you struggle to realize life outside of your fixated mind of success, so when things don’t happen the way you intend, you often give up and settle in life. The biggest thing that holds you back is your own standards, which can sometimes keep you complacent or so high that you just give up and settle in life. Also, there is a lazy streak in you that thinks that hard work is above you, so you try to shortcut your way to your goals only to be knocked on your ass time and time again. It can be hard for you to want to do the work to achieve your goals, so it’s easier for you to settle with what you can do or that’s doable.

 

Aquarius Moon: What holds you back in this lifetime is your ability to do a lot, and so that makes it hard for you to ever get to the action part. You are great at coming up with ideas but struggle to follow through. You can build an empire in your mind, but struggle with the patience to make the plans and to go through the stages. For you, you often become too dependent on others to do the work, which means a lot of your plans require the right people, who you often don’t have around you. You struggle to find your way to getting what you want because those you depend on aren’t aligned with you and your desires. It’s best to rethink your plans or your people.

 

Pisces Moon: What holds you back are your roots and your attachment to them, as you find it hard to stray from home. You can become too involved with nurturing those around you and never focus on yourself. Always helping family, friends, and others. You can also become so bogged down by always being there for others that you retreat and spend a lot of time at home trying to nurture yourself back to life, only to overextend yourself all over again. Your biggest holdback is your roots and how hard it is for you to move on from the past and propel yourself forward.

 

Your Mars Sign and your Attitude

Aries Mars: Always ready to argue or fight attitude

Taurus Mars: Your way or the highway attitude

Gemini Mars: Always playing devils advocate attitude

Cancer Mars: Petty as ever attitude

Leo Mars: Alpha male/woman attitude

Virgo Mars: Condescending attitude

Libra Mars: Always irritated attitude

Scorpio Mars: Makes you feel stupid attitude

Sagittarius Mars: Tell it like it is attitude

Capricorn Mars: Mean attitude

Aquarius Mars: superiority complex attitude

Pisces Mars: Victim attitude

[ma1dita]

about you

this was a request! read it here

words: 4.3k (longest one yet ohmy)

summary: james potter takes ‘easier’ for granted and finds out he now has a living reminder of that

warnings: none! sort of au, everyone lives and they win the war— angst angst angst, maybe open ended!!! groveling james and reader is a MOTHA (afab!)

a/n: guys i missed writing angst…i’m a deeply sad soul at heart so i enjoyed this a lot. I listened to ‘night shift’ by lucy dacus writing the first half, and ‘about you’ by the 1975 for the second half,,,,, both on repeat. i don’t mean to post at ungodly hours but i hope you enjoy!

posted: 11/11/23

—-

Insecurity is an ugly thing. It tugs at your frame, holding your shoulders hostage and your countenance shriveled in a scowl as you slink forward in your seat. But what should the rational reaction be when your boyfriend, the one you’ve planned out the rest of your life with— takes you out to dinner on a random Tuesday and then decidedly backtracks on everything you’ve built together? Your ears are ringing loudly, and you dumbly ask him to repeat himself when he says he wants to take a break.

“So that’s it then. You’ve made your decision and I just have to be okay with losing a year and a half of my life because you aren’t sure if you love me?” Your tone cuts through the fraying tether that holds you two together in the corner booth.

James for once, is at a loss for words. He wasn’t really sure of what to expect when he brought you here tonight, but any reaction to his admission was bound to hurt the both of you. You had to have known about his hesitations. Graduation was three weeks away, and everything was about to change, whether either of you liked it or not. Stupidly enough, James does love you, but that’s not the problem. The proximity he’s had as Head Boy working with Lily Evans makes him wonder if the life he lives is what’s meant for him. It keeps him up at night, gnawing at his resolve and comfort in being with you. He feels ungrateful to have it so easy. Loving you is easy. But the imposter syndrome sneaks into his room late at night in the form of ‘what if’.

“I…it’s just the timing of it all. We’re about to leave Hogwarts, and I don’t want to tie you down if I know I’m unsure of my—our future.”

He reaches out to grab your hand, and many a time ago, his sense of awareness was what you admired about him. You’d both get this familiar feeling of needing comfort, and within a minute, your fingers would intuitively find the other’s like it was second nature. Now, the thought of his touch might make you break his hand off to serve on a silver platter.

“Fuck your timing. If you think it’s as easy as making the decision to just quit while we’re ahead…. I love you. Don’t you…Is that not—” 

You clear your throat, the fire in your indignation being stifled by the whimpering feeling of knowing this was going to happen. The understanding of his plight, the knowing that he wants more. You could see it in the way his eyes wander when you all hang out, and you could feel it when he needs time to himself before bed, letting you back to your common room in the late hours alone. Screw your heart for appealing to his indecisiveness, his fear, when the final blow is aimed at the relationship you both once wanted together. Head Boy and Head Girl share living quarters after all. What chance did you stand against the girl he fell asleep a room away from? Maybe he dreams of her too, what you couldn’t give and what more she has to offer. 

“Tell me something James,” you choke as your body heaves with something akin to nausea. Being lovesick isn’t as romantic as it seems. The hopeless feeling in your tummy throbs as you clench your fists to keep it all down.

“Whatever you want.” 

His reply makes you laugh, desolation gripping your esophagus. Who knew feeling empty would feel like drowning? There is no more air left in your lungs that it almost incapacitates you, your last breath spilling out your final ask of him.

“Do you love me? What did I do?” 

The noise and chatter around you seems to fall silent as he zeroes in on your face, crestfallen from the words that leave your lips. It isn’t your fault, but how can he tell you that? At 18, he’s feeling stifled by the privilege of having his life all planned out for him. He knows people spend their lives searching for contentment but James can’t decipher if he’s right for all of this pressure falling upon his shoulders. The societal heir of his father’s business empire. The face of the upcoming war, bringing in a new generation of soldiers to fight. 

Deep inside, he’s a wild spirit just wanting to live, to be free. And it scares him that you’d follow him to the ends of the Earth, that there isn’t much thinking involved, just doing. The lack of autonomy stifles his soul. How does one know if they’re meant for more? James doesn’t want you to have to suffer the consequences if he can’t figure it out himself.

“I love you honey. So much it hurts me. I just wonder if it’s enough.” 

Your hands clatter onto the table, bumping your half-empty pint of butterbeer as you gather your things, shoving them into your knapsack as his final blow hits your senses. And all he does is watch you, face transfixed as if he sees nothing, like he isn’t making the biggest mistake of his life.

There’s no going back after this, you think silently as you steady your trembling hands. There’s also no way in hell you’ll let him see you cry. Fuck that. Your eyes fall over the curls that drape over the frame of his glasses, his face cradled by candlelight and dear Merlin, do you love this boy. All of him, even the parts that don’t reciprocate the feeling. This is the final snapshot in your memory of him, because this fleeting moment will have to be enough.

“I hope you get everything you ever wanted James. For my sake, I hope I never hear a thing about it.”

Perhaps having the last word will absolve you of the feeling that desecrates your entire essence as you put one foot in front of the other, pushing past the door of the Three Broomsticks and out into the unknown. But it’s not enough.

—

The break in routine absolutely shatters you, if we’re being honest. A year and a half of loving him, and three more before that of liking the slow steady burn that is James Potter…. It’s like looking at the world with new eyes and this window of opportunity with graduation nearing is your chance of starting anew. There’s also the custodial aspect after the end of a relationship, and it’s hard to separate the rest of what’s yours and his in your mind. Your friends are his, and his are yours. It makes quite a predicament to not have things so easy as they consider who to eat lunch with, or who’s dorm to hang out in. Hopefully, things get easier with time but you’re not as confident as you once were.

A part of you feels like you don’t belong anywhere anymore. James is the sun, after all; a natural leader— everyone revolves around his ingenious ideas and the light he brings. He’s the one who always has a plan, and everyone follows in his stead. Where do you fit in all of that? Where do you go?

His parents are likely the loveliest people to ever grace the wizarding world. Euphemia catches you by the arm after the graduation ceremony as you’re about to take the 7th year boat back across the Black Lake. With no family in attendance and no boyfriend to dote on, niceties were expended quick enough to want to run out of there and never look back.

“Darling, are you leaving without a goodbye?” Mrs. Potter smiles, calling her husband over both with grins made of sunlight. 

Somehow it resonates in your brain that it’s finally over, and your lip trembles when they pull you in for a hug that rivals your hunger to be loved. You think that even if your parents showed up today, it wouldn’t have felt this kind.

“Congratulations dearest! We’re so proud of you,” Fleamont rumbles, a big man with an even bigger heart as he brandishes flowers out of thin air to hand to you daintily. You’re going to miss them terribly. Is it wrong to want more of this? But you remember why it’s not as James’s cologne floods your senses and his silhouette creeps into your periphery. Your smile grows smaller as you two stare at each other and breathe the same air for the first time in almost a month. Whatever’s thrumming in your being, he holds the key to. Mr. and Mrs. Potter try to loop you into a photo together, the magical kind that moves to capture a memory so intimately but both of you stand perfectly still as his and your hesitant dismissals go unheard.

Loving hands fuss over both your caps and the way hair sticks out until you feel your shoulders jostle together for a moment and his hand lands on the small of your back. The flash goes off as you two look at each other in something that still resembles love. You can’t unlove him, not in a day, a month, or ever, you think. Not if you’ve bared your soul to him, even if he hurt you. 

You look away first, urging your heart to come back to reality. He’s not yours anymore, and you still love him. Alice told you earlier that he asked Lily out on a date for next Tuesday. What you were supposed to do with that information you’re unsure, but the feeling in your belly helps you say goodbye to the Potters, and clarify that they can keep the picture since you’re not James’ girlfriend anymore. An awkward silence settles over all four of you.

Euphemia rubs your cheek, hushed promises of keeping in touch while Fleamont looks at his son in confusion. James’ hand flexes in the absence of your body against his. He simply watches you walk away again, alone, while he’s surrounded by his friends and his family. The beating of a tiny heart matching your own as you hop onto the boat proves otherwise.

—-

A baby.

You think back to when it must’ve happened, the weekend before that Tuesday, when everything still felt right. With your last exams of your academic career finally done, both you and James were tangled in his silk sheets until dawn, an amalgamation of passionate whispers and lingering touches you could still feel in the days that followed. As you stared at the flutter of his eyelashes and relished the way he pulled you closer in his dream state, you were quite sure that he is, too, tangled within your soul to let go. That your doubts were residual anxiety from preparing for the future. For the first time in a while, you were reaffirmed that the boy sleeping next to you was your forever. Not being careful was a consequence of feeling safe in his arms, and subconsciously, you both hoped that everything would work itself out. As you walked out of the Head Students’ Lounge past noon with James’ hickeys as a necklace and donning your boyfriend’s shirt, you noticed the blush on Lily Evans’ face. You were just so sure, but that felt like forever ago.

Your parents weren’t happy when they came back from their business trip two months after graduation to find you four months along with a prominent bump and filled with so much fear. All plans of getting a job, of moving out, and joining the Order were now replaced with the startling fact that you are 18 and don’t have a single clue on what to do next. Your childhood bedroom feels smaller tonight, with both your parents standing at the door, all of you unsure of what to say. You can’t remember the last time they tucked you in, but as your dad takes a seat on the edge of your bed, it seems possible that maybe you won’t be alone in all of this.

“Whatever decision you make will be the right one, sweetie. If you love that baby, then we do too,” he sniffles, and you don’t recall having ever seen him this emotional before. One thing you are sure of, is this baby is loved, and made from love. The next is that England is not a safe place to raise your baby. 

Somewhere far away, in a hidden place guarded by some of the most experienced wizards, the Order of the Phoenix meets again to determine the future of the wizarding world. James’s eyes dart back and forth from the door to whichever adult is talking about the next mission. You didn’t show up again. All of the meetings so far where he was always the first one to arrive and the last to leave in hopes of getting a glimpse of you, and you never showed. There’s a deep worry that haunts him as the months pass by, and he knows that it would be easy to send you a letter, or to show up at your door, but he’s probably the last person you want to see. 

“We’re going out for a pint, you ready to leave James?” Lily whispers into his ear, arms curling around to his chest. But he’s not ready at all, sat on the sofa with his eyes on the door, just in case. Trying to love someone who’s still in love is a losing battle, Lily thinks, as she watches her boyfriend look like a child missing their favorite blanket. But in a war like this one, no one would be foolish enough to decline company.

“I’ll meet you there,” he smiles, leaning back to kiss her cheek. It’s cruel to both of them, the way he’s acting knowing that Lily won’t ever be you. Every chance he gets to have a moment to himself, he thinks of the despondent look on your face as you walked away from him and his parents that day. No more anger at all, no biting words or the fighting spirit that he knows and loves. Both of you just accepted what was to come.

Sirius and Remus approach him later after everyone’s left that they got word that you moved to America. He thinks of what could’ve been, and the thought of your safety is the only thing that lets his mind rest as guilt pushes and pulls at his heartstrings like waves.

He’s spent these months fighting in the war, loving and losing that he thinks this isn’t anything like the white house and picket fence fantasy you both used to cook up. As he grabs his coat to leave, James wonders if by being away from all of this you’ll get to live the life you want. 

—

“Okay honey, hold on tight to mama.” 

Your little boy was almost bouncing off the pavement with a chocolate covered grin, and it makes you laugh harder than it should. Maybe Florean Fortescue’s was not the way to start off your son’s first trip to Diagon Alley, but your new job at the Ministry starts tomorrow and you’ve been missing your favorite stationery. The town was packed with people with the war having ended and trying to start anew. You haven’t seen any familiar faces and maybe years ago that was a bad thing, but hope spreads over Diagon Alley with strangers smiling at Christopher as he skips on the cobblestone, almost tripping over his own feet at the entrance of Flourish and Blotts. 

He runs forward to explore the store as you smile at your creation, letting him wander along the aisles as you have done years before. Being back here is like walking through a memory, and though it used to be home, you know yours is walking around in tiny bright red shoes that light up like his smile. Your fingers flip through the different quills and parchment on display, and after finding everything you need, you hear your son’s laughter in the opposite corner of the shop. Motherly instincts always prevail as your feet guide you to the sound of his voice, since he’s never been one to shy away from a friendly conversation.

“Did you find everything you were looking for, honey?”

James’ head whips up from the tiny boy he was entertaining with color-changing quills to see you, and he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose to make sure he’s seeing properly. The both of you go quiet as time stands still, with Christopher chattering at your feet. 

“Mama! Look at this one, it goes rainbow!” he says, tugging at your coat to see the quill in James’s hand. The pieces start to fit together in James’ mind, looking at your pursed lip, then to the sight of this boy smiling with the innocence he had a lifetime ago. This boy, his son, has your eyes. You shake your head rapidly as he intakes a breath of air.

“Honey?” he whispers, knowing that was his name for you.

“So what, he looks like a honey,” you say defensively, grabbing your son’s hand.

He looks like my son, his eyes say—both of you look down to the child who’s all grins and none the wiser piping up.

“My name’s Topher!” 

“Yes it is, and now it’s time to say goodbye to the nice man, okay?” Topher pouts and looks up at his father without even knowing it, handing him the quill. 

“Keep it. I’ll pay for it, and then you can write to me,” he says almost desperately, losing grip of everything that he’s been trying to convince himself for the past 7 years. 

“Don’t be weird, Potter. Don’t…” you shake your head, eyes misting over. Seeing him again brought back everything. It was already overwhelming to have a kid that’s almost the splitting image of him, to learn of a love so pure after one that’s wrecked you to your core, but being here, within arms reach… You’re 18 again and scrambling away from the corner booth trying to get away from the man you love most not wanting you in return.

“Honey, why don’t you give us a minute to talk? Go find me some cool enchanted stickers for me to bring to work tomorrow, okay?” Your baby runs off without even questioning it, his sense of adventure also inherited from his father.

“I’m…so sorry.” James moves closer to you, and you take a step back sighing humorlessly.

“For what? He’s an amazing kid. Even though… he wasn’t planned, I don’t think I could ever see my life turning out any other way.” You shift your weight to your other foot. He looks, successful, if that’s something he would be proud of. He’s wearing an impressive suit, and his eyes are a bit hardened by the past few years, but his charisma, his smile…. He’s still the boy you fell in love with all those years ago.

“I feel foolish. I was so scared to live my life and then here you are raising our child…” 

You blink softly at his words, and it reminds him of your youth, all doe-eyed and full of want. You used to want him like he still wants you. In front of him is a grown woman, a mother who’s strong and filled with memories and love that he should’ve been a part of.

“Things happen for a reason, James. We both did what we had to do.”

His hand brushes yours, and you realize you’ve been without his touch for 7 years. 7 years of being scrubbed clean of James Potter, and not a single regenerated cell in your body has been touched by him. But your son is of him, so you think that no matter how this ends, there will always be a part of you that loves James too.

You extend an olive branch to have him come to your apartment this weekend and get to talk. He knows he doesn’t deserve this kindness, but you know he deserves to meet his son.

—-

The doorbell rings and you take a deep breath as you open the front door, looking up at him holding a teddy bear for Topher.

“He’s still down for a nap. Let’s go sit in the den.” You say quietly. The hallway is filled with pictures of your boy, and of you in different stages these past few years. He stops at a portrait of your parents with Topher being swung between them.

“Your parents….”

“Were supportive; I wasn’t alone,” you muse, knowing he knows of your strained relationship with them back then.

“They actually just retired early last year. Overworked themselves and finally comfortable, so they help out when they can. What about yours?” Trying to make conversation with your ex is terribly hard, but it’s in good spirit and there’s not much to do until Topher wakes up.

“They passed, actually. Mum at the end of the war, and dad 6 months after. Never wanted to be apart, you know that.”

Your face falls at his revelation, “I’m sorry for your loss. They were amazing people. Taught me what it meant to be a parent, for sure.” Amicable silence fills the living room before you clear your throat.

“I have to be blunt, James. What do you want from this? You must be married and busy, so if Topher can’t fit into that….”

“I’m neither of those things, honey. I want to try and see where this goes,” he says scratching the back of his neck. 

Your heart stops at his endearment, catching yourself looking at him seriously. 

“You can hurt me, but I’m not letting you do that to him. Back then, you were all I ever wanted love to be. And then I had my beautiful baby, and I suddenly knew my love meant more.”

“I never wanted to hurt you. It was a mistake, because I was too proud to accept that I had it good. That what I had was meant for me.” James grabs your hands, begging for you to understand. The lost boy he was is a lifetime away from the man sitting in front of you now. Though it’s touching, you keep your heart guarded because the little boy sleeping down the hall is your biggest priority. You hope he can understand that too.

“He’s not a placeholder for your dreams of wanting a family. You have to build that, I did that myself. I’m not going to let you string him along and then once you have a family of your own, you just up and leave.” 

“I know. I was hoping the both of you could be my family, if you give me the chance.” You bite your lip as your thumb runs against his. It’s easier to forgive than to forget. But for Topher’s sake, you can try. 

“Tell me something James,” you whisper, having needed to know this for the past 7 years.

“Why did you throw it all away? Was the idea of loving me…so terrible?” He tilts your chin up, and you think that the earnest look on his face is the closure you needed to properly forgive him.

“I’ve never stopped loving you. Loving you is the best part of knowing you. Do you think I ever forgot about you?” He chuckles lowly, brushing back a strand of your hair, and you think this could be dangerous if you let yourself get too close. 

“I’ve thought about you everyday for the past 7 years, I just didn’t think I deserved you after everything I’ve done. I was so stupid, I am still. But I’m trying to be better.”

“You think of me but dreamt of her. Was it guilt?” Your hand grabs his as you move it away from your cheek, settling onto your lap. The air around you is suffocating.

“It took time for me to figure out that it was intention. Lily was a distraction. You’ve consumed me since the day I met you. My dreams, my thoughts… All of it is you. I choose to think about you as much as I can, because if I didn’t I was scared I’d forget all the good things about us back then.”

You both hear a thump from your son’s room and realize you’re wiping tears away. James stands up when you do, and both pairs of your socked feet pad closer to your son’s room. 

“We start this slow. We make decisions together, and if there’s any inkling I get that he doesn’t want this, it’s done. You understand?” Your hands are firm on the doorknob as he’s standing close behind you, hanging onto every word.

“Every word. There’s no turning back from this.” He wants to ask another question, but before he can, your hand unconsciously finds his and your grip is so comforting that he notices himself sniffle. 

“If it all goes well, and if you want, we can try again. But that’s in the far distant future, James Potter.”

“Anything you want, honey. That’s the future I’ve been dreaming of.” With you. Your lips quirk into a smile as they brush against his cheek.

Slowly opening the door to both watch your son wake up from his nap, your hand pulls James into the room behind you. Quietly, he sits on the edge of Christopher’s bed, and when his son looks up at him, you both notice the little boy beaming like the sun. 

—-

“Everything you love is very likely to be lost, but in the end, love will return in a different way.” -Franz Kafka

taglist: @jsjcue

love me some tunes! i listened to this while writing:

night shift by lucy dacus & about you by the 1975

[woso-dreamzzz]

Injured: Before

Alexia Putellas x Baby!Reader

Summary: Alexia struggles

Sometimes Alexia will look at you, asleep in your crib without a care in the world.

Sometimes, she will watch you and try to fathom how you came from her. Sometimes, she looks at you like you've come out with two heads and a tail. Sometimes, she will not see you as a baby.

But other times, she looks at your little fingers and little toes and tiny little feet and just be in awe of you. She laboured for hours to have you, cursing your existence in those painful moments before scolding herself for those words when she finally had you in her arms.

You were so beautiful then, passed out asleep on her chest after your stressful birth. You napped and napped and napped before finally awakening again.

Alexia expected to look at you and find everything slotting into place.

She expected to look at you and have the whole world stop in awe of you.

Her Mama had told her countless stories of what her own and Alba's births were like. She spoke at length about how magical it was to have her girls in her arms, for everything to finally make sense in the world, to be filled with such love for their tiny bodies that she couldn't help but stare at them.

Alexia had been ready for those feelings, for those months of indecision between giving you up for adoption and keeping you for herself to finally settle, to finally know that there was no way she could ever think about giving up the perfect little baby girl in her arms.

She had been excited for those feelings.

But they never came.

Not truly.

You looked into Alexia's eyes and...you looked like any other newborn in the world.

There was no instant connection.

There were no fireworks or bells ringing.

It was just you and her and the complete lack of recognition between you both.

You could have been any other baby in the world in that moment.

There were moments though, like now, that Alexia can see the light at the end of the tunnel.

You fit almost perfectly in her arms, wrapped in the almost perfect swaddle Alexia has made for you. Alexia looks at you now and sees her daughter. She can imagine you growing up with her. She knows in these moments that she did the right thing in not giving you up.

But Alexia knows that these feelings will disappear by the end of the week. She doesn't know what's wrong with her. Some days, she can do nothing but stare in awe at you but other days she can barely get out of bed. She can barely do anything but cry even as she feeds you and puts you down for naps.

It's like drowning, Alexia thinks. It's like drowning in a river.

She's fighting against the current carrying her downstream, to the waterfall at the end that will surely be her downfall. She fights it sometimes, desperate to surface for air before being forced under again.

There are longer moments of calm where she can grab onto a branch of a nearby tree and try to climb to the safety of the banks where you wait for her but the current is too strong and Alexia can only hold on for so long until the water claims her again.

She savours these moments with you, where she looks at you and can be so happy with your little eyes and your little nose.

You don't look like her yet but you are still practically a newborn, coming up on one month soon. Newborns don't really look like anyone in particular.

Alexia hopes that you will look like her soon. Maybe that's what she needs to pull herself out of the river. Maybe seeing you look like her will snap her out of whatever stupid daze she is. Maybe you looking like her will be what finally calms the current.

Alexia clings to a branch now as she settles down on the sofa with you, letting you latch on for one of your feeds.

The house has been on lockdown since your birth. Just you and Alexia.

Her Mama has tried to come around and weasel her way into helping but Alexia's adamant she can do this on her own. She doesn't need help. She doesn't want it.

But she also doesn't want anyone to see her like this, so broken and confused and unable to form a real, proper attachment to her newborn.

It's just a little hiccup, a bump in the road that will be over soon so Alexia can fully focus on you and love you like how you deserve to be loved.

As soon as this is over, as soon as the river calms or Alexia finally hauls herself out of it, she will let people visit.

She doesn't want anyone to see her like this.

You whine a little bit and Alexia winces.

Your latch isn't good.

"It's okay, it's okay," She says to you, forcing you to unlatch so she can adjust," Just give me a moment."

Her grip on the branch loosens.

You whine a bit more, growing fussy.

"I know," Alexia insists," Just...Just wait."

The current picks up and Alexia tries to hold on.

You try to latch again but it's even worse than before.

The current forces her off the branch.

You start crying.

"No," She says, panicked," No, wait. Wait. Please...Please!"

She's forced downstream again, dunked under the water.

You keep crying. You sob and you can't latch again no matter what Alexia tries.

"Come on," She begs," It's okay. See? You're nearly there! Just...Stop crying...You just need to stop crying..."

The stream takes her closer and closer to the waterfall and Alexia's sobs mingle with yours.

[steddielations]

nonsexual d/s for sub Eddie week with art here by @ent-is-indecisive

“Eddie, will you please open the door?”

“I ruined it, Steve, I messed everything up.”

“You didn’t ruin anything, baby, let me in, c’mon.”

All the music from the party almost drowns out Steve’s voice, but a small pathetic piece of Eddie clings to it like an anchor. He opens the door and Steve’s brows knit sympathetically at the state of distress Eddie's in. It’s all fucked up.

His leather sleeve is wet and sticky, he can’t stop raking his fingers through his hair, ruining the nice waves Steve styled for him earlier because he was too much of a wreck to do it himself. It’s all fucked up.

“I fucked up.”

Shaking his head, Steve comes inside and shuts the door behind him. “It wasn’t that bad. Could’ve been worse, remember when Robin threw up in the middle of an audition.”

“Steve, at this point they’re gonna pay me not to make an album,” Eddie stresses, pacing around the bathroom. “I spilled wine all over the guy. Dale fucking Grazer wants to talk serious paper and shake my hand and I just emptied my stupid little glass all over him!”

“It was just wine, not puke or something,” Steve says lightly, trying to bring Eddie down from his frantic state. It works, his voice is a tether for Eddie to grab onto. “Come here, let me fix you up.” 

Eddie does as Steve says, not trusting himself to make any more decisions when all he’s done today is fuck up. 

Steve guides him over to the sink, wetting a towel and dabbing Eddie’s jacket. He’s so calm, like this isn’t the most important night in Eddie’s life and it’s not already blown and he can still make that hotshot from the record label like him.

Steve’s acting like everything’s fine, which makes Eddie feel stupid and small like he's overreacting, he tries to let Steve’s energy calm him too but it’s hard.

“You’re overthinking, I can see it on your face,” Steve says, being gentle but not in a coddling way that would make Eddie feel even more stupid.

He straightens out Eddie’s sleeve, good as new, then works on Eddie’s hair next. His fingers are soft and skilled and so sure, knowing exactly how to fix it and how to make Eddie melt under his touch.

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, just trying to let Steve fix everything. He's way better at fancy parties and schmoozing than Eddie is. He always knows how to get Eddie out of his head and that’s what he needs right now. As pathetic as he feels about it, he needs to stop thinking. Let Steve think for him, even.

“Wanna tell me what’s on your mind?” Steve prompts softly and Eddie is helpless but to let it all out.

“I can’t stop saying the wrong shit. Why’d I tell him my dad’s in prison? Or bring up the dropped murder charges, or all that stuff about ket, I just can’t shut up.”

“No, that’s just you, the whole big personality charismatic rockstar thing. Trust me, that guy’s got star eyes for you.”

“This is just like with Paige’s label. I messed that up, and now I’m ruining Jeff’s chance again, and—”

“No you’re not, that guy loves Jeff already, everybody loves Jeff.” 

“You’re right, he’s got this, he doesn’t need me. Let’s just get out of here, make a run for it.”

Eddie barely takes a step before Steve’s hands circle both his wrists, his grip gentle but solid, holding Eddie in place. It flips the same little switch in Eddie as the cuffs they use in the bedroom. It takes away the option to run.

Somewhere in the jumble of his mind, he knows it’s the right choice, trusting that Steve wouldn’t let him make the wrong one.

“We’re not going anywhere, baby, this is your chance too.” Steve rubs up and down Eddie’s arms, guiding him around in front of the mirror. 

It’s hard for Eddie to look at himself right now and see it written all over his face. Steve cleaned the stain and made his hair perfect again but he can’t fix whatever’s making Eddie… Well, Eddie. Whatever it is that made him flunk senior year 3 times, or screw up the first chance he had to make something of himself, or the reason Ronnie won’t pick up his phone calls, or the reason Wayne sleeps with his keys on the bedside table in case he has to come running to Eddie’s rescue like always—

Steve’s fingers lightly cup Eddie’s chin, he’s standing behind Eddie now, his body warmly pressed against him.

“Look here, honey.” Steve gently tips Eddie’s head up to meet his own eyes in the mirror. They’re glistening with unshed tears that almost fall when Steve says soft but sure, “You’re not a fuckup,” and prompts Eddie, “Say it.”

Eddie swallows the lump rising in his throat, “I’m not—” 

He chokes up a little bit and Steve waits patiently. 

“Tell yourself,” Steve whispers, all earnest-eyed in the mirror like all he wants is to make Eddie believe it.

“I’m not a… fuckup,” Eddie gets the words out and a few tears slip free with them.

Steve brushes them away. “You can do this. Say it.”

With a deep breath, Eddie tells himself, “I can do this.”

Steve kisses his temple, gives him a little praise that he admittedly needs so much right now, “You’re gonna be so good.”

Eddie’s mind starts to clear of everything that’s not Steve rocking him slowly in his arms, whispering, “You’re my good boy,” as many times as Eddie needs to hear it. He feels his confidence building back up, getting more comfortable in his skin again with Steve holding him, believing the words Steve made him say in the mirror, believing the words Steve kisses into his neck and loves into his skin. He can do this.

“Aren’t you?”

“Yeah.” 

“Tell me,” Steve prompts and Eddie turns a little, blinking slowly, eyes feeling heavy with the slow dose of bliss Steve gave him.

“I’m your good boy,” Eddie murmurs and he believes it.

When they leave the bathroom later, Steve can’t hold his hand through this, but Eddie still feels him.

He charms the fuck out of those suits from the label. They love Jeff, everybody loves Jeff, and they love Eddie too. The whole band is definitely getting signed, at least that’s what Steve says on the ride home.

Eddie greedily soaks up all the praise and attention, feeling a little spacey with it, Steve's big warm hand on his thigh grounding him. He can't wait for them to get home so he can properly thank Steve.

[wyvernest]

feast on me

pairing: dom!miguel o'hara x f!reader

warnings: smut, foodplay, grinding, marking, possessive miguel, objectification,

summary: you and miguel try something new, and he gets lost in the raw lust of enjoying every inch of your body

You are sprawled out on his king size bed, waiting. Your heart is drumming in your chest, eyes never leaving his.

"I've been dreaming about this." He rasps, looking down at your form, gaze piercing and imposing. Your attention flows down his perfectly sculpted abdomen, down to the boxers that do very little concealing to his erection.

Leaning down, hovering over you, he makes you feel small, submitted. You let a near animalistic feeling rush through your veins, that he owns you entirely, that your only purpose is to obey him and do his bidding. And the best part about it, it makes your panties soak and mind fuzzy with lust, the way he has you on your knees with just one look. 

Gripping both your wrists with one hand, he releases a strong web string, restraining them to the bed frame. Climbing on the bed, his weight and height alone reminding you of the strength and stamina you're about to try to endure, he traps your thighs in between his, the pressure between your legs increasing. 

His nostrils flare momentarily, pupils dilated. Your breathing is already laboured in anticipation. He bends down, straying from the plan, just to sense how aroused you are. Your scent floods his lucidity, his cock visibly twitching under the flimsy fabric.

"Miguel.. get on with it already. Stop teasing."

"Let me enjoy it, mi vida." His tone is dripping with need and desperation, held back only by his desire to be the one in charge. "You smell so good when you're so ready for me."

You feel burning heat rise to your face. "Ah, Miguel," the rest of the plea dissolves into a moaned sigh.

"Estás bien rica, mami", he licks and bites at the dip of your waist, puffing hot breaths over the soft skin. "Make me hard with just one look."

You begin squirming, wanting to feel more. Wanting him to stick to the idea he had.

With a groan, he reaches for the bedside table, taking the syrup. Your eyes widen, as if you haven't discussed it already. He removes the cap with evident impatience before he starts pouring it over your chest and waist in calculated motions. You flinch as the liquid drips down your naked body, avoiding his lustful gaze. 

When he deems it sufficient, he gets rid of the bottle and stares down at you in awe, a starved man with a five course meal right in front of him. 

His eyelids hang low over his wide blown pupils, showcasing not a single thought beyond wanting to get his mouth on you and dick between your soaked folds. With his arms now bracketing your torso, he gets to work.

You feel like a piece of meat, the prey he's devouring so hungrily, nothing to stop or bother him. You moan his name as his warm breath falls heavily over your flushed skin, indecisive about the place he should start.

And he goes for your neck.

The scent of him, cologne and his distinctive musk invade you like pheromones, drowning out the sweet essence of the syrup. He groans against the crook of your neck, and you give a futile attempt to free your legs from his hold and rub your cunt on his hard cock. He licks the liquid clean from your skin, paying close attention to the sensitive spots he has learned so well. You instinctively tilt your head to the side, your body silently begging him not to stop without your mind even present. One of his hands travels down your side, kneading the soft flesh of your breast, careful not to smudge the cream. 

"Let me.." You whine, pushing into him, feeling the considerable weight of his fat cock laying on your lower belly as he leans down further over you. He can't help but chase the friction, either.

He raises to your face in response, swallowing your empty begging. You taste the aroma of the syrup on your tongue, eager  to prolong the kiss. But before you can deepen the connection, he departs, leaving you even more riled up and utterly frustrated. 

"You're so pretty when you're needy." He teases right into your ear, before resuming the licks and bites down your neck. He has to actively stop himself from sinking his teeth in your skin, the feeling of your smooth and soft skin, the heat of your need, are clouding his judgement.

He reaches your collarbones, his hot tongue lapping up the liquid, always followed by open-mouthed pecks and small bites. You arch your back into his touch, needing his mouth just a couple inches lower. He continues to lick your skin clean, slowly and mindlessly grinding his erection into you.

You feel used, strictly for his pleasure. You're nothing but a fuck toy, unable to voice your own frustrations, forced to take whatever he'll give you. 

You try to move your hips against him, but his thighs tense impossibly tighter around you, and you think you're going to die right then and there.

"Mira qué tetas tan bonitas", He rasps before taking one nipple in his mouth, sucking lightly. You whimper and push your chest closer to his face. 

He extends his tongue to press it flat over the tender flesh of your breast, indulging in the feeling of your skin, heated up underneath his touch. He kisses hard over the expanse of your chest, almost hurriedly. 

Your brain is fried with the wet sounds reverberating in your ears, combined with the unabashed groans of the man on top of you.

Your chest is covered in his spit; marked up in various spots by reddening patches, the traces of his need to make you his. You smell like him, and you really are, utterly and completely, his.

He licks up a long stipe of syrup through the valley between your breasts and looks up to you, before taking both of them in his hands, groping and fondling, playing with the soft flesh as he continues his kisses down your navel, to the line of your waist. 

Your eyes roll back as you let out a deep breath you didn't realise you were holding on to, feeling the girth of his rock hard cock rub in on your lower belly. He's unconsciously rocking his hips back and forth, a barely there movement, slow enough not to drive him towards release but harsh enough to make you squirm harder underneath him.

"Así estás muy guapa" he whispers in between rushed licks and kisses across your chest, when he parts his mouth from your soft skin, before diving right back in as if you'll disappear. Exhales laboured, words breathy and deep, he confesses;

"Me pones tan cachondo.", his nostrils flare as he takes your syrup coated breast in his mouth, one hand gripping your waist, the other drifting down. "I wanna be inside you." 

"Please - I've been - ah", he returns to your neck unexpectedly, after having finally licked you clean. "I've been trying to tell you -"

He ends the protest with a hungry kiss, messy and sloppy. His tongue is in your mouth quickly enough, taking you by surprise while his hand works his boxers down his thighs. By now, his cock is twitching in need, precum running down the shaft. 

He shuffles away from you in order to give you enough space to curl your sore legs around his waist, before you feel a broad hand splayed out on your back.

You can barely register his intentions as he flips you both, placing you on his lap and presenting you with his raging erection, propped on your stomach.

You automatically place your hands on his firm chest, feeling up his pecs. He leans forward, kissing below your ear.

"Ride me."

translations:

Estás bien rica - You're really hot

Mira qué tetas tan bonitas - Look what pretty tits

Así estás muy guapa - You're so beautiful like this

Me pones tan cachondo - You make me so horny

a/n: as always, correct my spanish if you notice any mistakes<3

edit: yes i re-uploaded cause apparently i got shadowbanned and i hope it's fixed now

[fulloffencekurooishotterthanyou]

Grocery Shopping.

Ft. Suna Rintarō

Notes: NSFW minors dni, fingering, car sex, afab reader, fluff at beginning, swearing, pet names

“rin,” you groan, as the crooked wheel of the trolley jams into the back of your heel for the millionth time. “drive the goddamn trolley straight, please.”

there’s a laugh. husky and low, belonging to the man you call your own.

“but, love,” he whines, that familiar drawl in his nonchalant tone as he pushes the trolley a little so you’re walking side by side. “it’s not my fault it’s wonky. you should take that up with someone who works here,”

you can’t help but roll your eyes at his teasing tone and instead decide to aim your focus at the apples that are cheaper than usual. the shine of the skin “a-peeling” as suna comments behind you.

you usually shop together, late at night like this when he doesn’t have training. it’s probably the only time when you’re not drowned in work or your boyfriend is building up his thighs like a god at the gym.

“doll, what else was on the list?” your lover’s voice is serious, as he stares at the aisle numbers in concentration. “why am i thinking of butter? did we even need butter?” your laugh resounds in his ear, as you explain it was bread, not butter. “ohhh, bread. gotcha. be back in a second.” he shoots you an award winning smile, before pushing the trolley to the bread aisle, almost looking too elated to be here with you at the supermarket.

“what’s gotten into him?” you mumble to yourself as you pick up other items on the mental list you made. when ten minutes have passed, and no rintarō has appeared for a suspicious amount of time, you walk down briskly, scanning each aisle.

“rin?” you call, scanning through every area, like a lookout team.

“darling, over here!” an excited voice rings out and you stop in your tracks, walking down the dangerously alluring sweets aisle.

“what are you doing?” you ask with a laugh, seeing wide and excited eyes gracing your boyfriend’s features.

“they have chūpets in stock!” his hands can’t seem to move any faster, as he looks through the different flavours.

“i’ve never seen you more excited, truly,” you say teasingly, as he gives you a pointed look.

“i get excited about plenty of things, hun. i’ve got no idea what you’re saying,”

“yeah? and how much are you willing to bet chūpets are better than sex?” you dare ask, wondering what his reply will be. there’s a beat of silence.

“fuck. that’s a hard question.” he replies, his face grim with indecisiveness. you laugh, playfully hitting his arm.

“you actually have to think about it?” i ask, as he places three packets of chūpets into the trolley. the two of you head to the self check out, scanning your items.

“i mean, both are good. very good,”

“but this is sex i’m talking about. you really believe jelly fruit sticks compare?” your banter is comfortable and flirtatious, as rintarō pushes the trolley to your car. as he unloads the bags, he hums in thought.

“chūpets are gifts from the gods themselves, love. i can’t argue with fact,” his voice clearly pokes fun at you, as he shuts the boot door with a firm hand.

“i’d argue they’re not as satisfying as a good blow job,”

“what? ‘cause of the same sucking motion?” he says, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“suna rintarō!” you cry out, giving him a look of pure unadulterated shock. “you did not just say that!”

he shrugs, but the grin on his face is practically devilish. “did i?” he puts the trolley away with a satisfied look plastered over his features. “why? are you going to prove me wrong, angel?” at this, his voice is lower now; richly suave and so thick with desire, you might as well be bathing in honey.

“you’re a tease. a fucking tease, you know that?”

“mmm, i did, actually.” a gentle hand grasps your hip, as he pulls you in, closing all distance between you.

“we’re in the middle of a car park, rintarō,” you remind him, your lips severely close to his. shit, you want to kiss him so badly.

“it’s almost midnight, doll. nobody’s around to see us,” his lips graze yours, but only for a second. “besides, we gotta test that bet of ours,”

another kiss breaks the surface fleetingly, before you’re dragged into the back seats of the car, the door shutting firmly behind you.

“rin, it’s not more than a fifteen minute drive hom-” you don’t get to finish your sentence as you’re pulled under your boyfriend, his lips crashing against yours.

it takes you a minute to regain your breathing, only to lose it again, his hands in your hair, yours around his neck as he craves for more.

“i want you, darling. right here, right now.”

and you’d be a complete fool to deny him that.

“then take me,” you whisper into his mouth before you’re kissing again, his tongue finding his way into your mouth as his touches grow rougher.

“fuck.” he groans, peppering your neck with kisses as his hands trail down to the buttons of your pants. “let me taste you,” he pleads, untying the string of his sweats. “can i have you, baby? please?”

“yes,” you breathe, watching as his pants and boxers are discarded carelessly, his hands coming back to cup your cheeks. “you can have me, rin,”

he groans, a guttural sound as he lifts your legs over his shoulders in one fluid motion, kissing your inner thighs. “big claim to make, angel. i’m gonna make you feel so fucking good,”

his mouth seems to second that statement, as you whimper from the touch of his lips near your entrance. his tongue comes next, a sword against your shield, digging his way through to you with a muffled moan. “you taste so good, doll. always taste so good for me, don’t you?”

“fuck, rin!” you cry out, as a pale, slim finger penetrates your folds. “oh god, oh fuck-” you choke out, babbling mindlessly as his fingers are practically sucked in and out of your hole.

“not even the real thing yet, baby. already so responsive,” he hums, thrusting another finger inside. your moans only compel him to insert another, his movements gradually getting faster and rougher.

“i want you, rin,” you plead. “just give it to me already. stop teasing me,”

“sweetheart, i haven’t done anything of the kind,” he smiles, pulling out his wet fingers, licking them as he watches you. “but since you’re so insistent sex is better than my beloved chūpets, i guess i’ll give you what you want,”

a ragged gasp of air comes out of you as the tip starts to slowly sink in.

“ahh- rin, shit, you’re so- fuck! you’re big,” you ramble, thoughts simply unable to pass through you. rintarō continues his pursuit, delving in deeper, as he thrusts against your walls in an effort to derail you from coherency.

when he bottoms out, your cries are strangled as crescent moons crease his t-shirt, your grip on him, unrelenting.

“fuck, hun, you’re tight,” he hisses, his base reaching your skin as he begins to move, hard and fast. rintarō’s hips rock into yours, the wild bucking sensation almost too much as you moan wantonly.

“t-the car is shaking-” you manage to choke out, but it’s like your boyfriend doesn’t hear you, his relentless pursuit of breaking down your walls his only mission.

his cock fills you up so deeply, you can barely move as your pleas for more only seem to invigorate him to pound you harder.

each thrust is like a message, one that tells you that there’s no place either of you would rather be, but with each other. rintarō’s cock remains hard and swollen inside of you, his desperate grunts filling the car.

“release for me, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his tone the personification of velvet. “show me how good i make you feel,” each touch sends you ablaze, your whimpers music to rintarō’s ears as his skin dances over yours.

“r-rin!” you all but scream, the pleasure blinding as his cock slams into your walls, a sign of love as you moan. “i’m gonna… fucking hell, i’m gonna cum,”

“that it’s, darling. cum all over this fat dick for me, yeah?” rintarō smiles as his hard member urges to release. but he waits. suna rintarō can be patient when he wants to.

“close, ‘m close!” you sob, hips held in place by suna’s firm grip. “rin- hnngh~ rintarō!”

there’s a low chuckle from your boyfriend as he hits your g-spot more consistently. “go on. let it all out for me, doll. you know i’m good for it,”

you swear loudly, your voice shaky as you announce your climax again. the coil in your stomach tightens, and then releases all at once. “i’m cumming!” you groan, thighs trembling as rintarō pants from the overexertion.

“fuck, that feels so good. your cum feels so warm on my cock.” he whispers, the words so vulgar it makes you moan a little more. “wait, wait. quiet down for me,” he requests, and you bite your lip to hold your silence.

“you hear that, hun?” suna asks, his cum-soaked cock rubbing against your walls. the motion produces a series of audibly lewd noises, the squelch making you tense up on him, all over again.

you can’t handle it anymore, writhing with pleasure as your lover pulls out, his cock covered with your fluids. “where should i cum, baby? tell me where i should, we wouldn’t want it to go to waste.” his tone is sly, like he wanted this all along. you can barely answer as his seed squirts all over your bare stomach, as he kisses you deeply. you press your lips back hungrily, tongues finding their way to meet each other’s as your shared moans echo in the backseats.

“better than sex?” you choke out now, your back limp against the car seat as you both pant heavily. there is a moment of quiet, aside from the jagged breathing before suna quips.

“yeah, maybe,” your boyfriends winks. “i’m playing with you, doll. sex is always better,”

“i fucking told you so,” you groan as he laughs, the sound resonating in your ear as he tucks a loose strand of hair behind it.

“let’s go home. i’m not finished with you yet.” suna says with a cheeky smile.

“i didn’t think you’d be,” you say sarcastically as he sits you up, cleaning the sticky mess with a tissue.

“what can i say, love? i’m a man with very specific needs,”

you can’t help but laugh. “is that right?”

“only the facts,” he replies, meeting his lips with yours for another kiss. “i love you, darling.”

“i love you too, rin.”

first full smut fic ‼️ i hope this isn’t just a bunch of tomfoolery 😵‍💫

banner credits: @cafekitsune <3

[targaryen-dynasty]

Congrats on 2k!!! LOVEEEEE 💞 I WAS SO INDECISIVE OF WHAT I WANTED but I finally chose meleys

Can I get Aegon II with the prompt #87 “wanna fuck?”

This screams him fr.

TIPPING POINT.

Modern!Aegon II Targaryen x female Reader

WARNINGS: mentions of alcohol and intoxication

WORDS: 792

NOTES: Tysm, Mae!! This request was amazing, and it's so on point for him. 😭

Let's celebrate my milestone!

It’s the fifth jello shot you’re drowning with Helaena, the frat party around you in full throttle, and even before you’ve swallowed it down, you feel your inhibitions sinking lower and lower. What certainly doesn’t help is the skimpy, black dress you’re wearing, hugging your curves so well, it’s taken your confidence sky high. 

Helaena has left the dancefloor a few minutes ago to stalk off with none other than Jace Velaryon, the quarterback of Westeros’ greatest football team, the King’s Landing Commanders. It’s widely rumored he’s the owner of the teams largest packet, so you don’t begrudge her that she’s left you alone. She’s certainly earned herself a good fuck for the night. 

Swaying your hips to the rhythm of the music, though it’s not exactly the kind of music you usually listen to, the state of your tipsiness gets you off-balance for a moment, prompting you to take a step back to steady yourself, and bump into something very firm. 

“Easy there,” the gruff voice rings out, and knowing who it belongs to, you turn on your heels with a teasing grin. 

“Aeg,” you reply, meeting his eyes. 

He’s Helaena’s older brother, and ever since he’s switched teams to join the Oldtown Saints, people rarely see him around. It’s clear that his presence somewhat catches you by surprise. There hasn't been anything happening between the two of you, however, it has been more than dangerously close at more than one of Alicent Targaryen’s famous family dinners. 

His hand trails to your back, and he uses that grip to pull you against his side. You’re forced to hold onto him to steady yourself, but you don’t really mind. He’s charming, easy on the eyes, and there’s certainly worse company lingering around at the party. Jason Lannister, for example. 

“Are you enjoying yourself?” he asks, his eyes flitting down to take in your body. His Adam's apple bobs slightly as he lets them linger on your exposed thighs, taking in the short skirt. 

You bring a hand to his chest, and turn yourself in his grasp so your body faces him now. “Enjoying myself?” you purr, licking your lips. “I always do when I have such fine company.” 

Aegon grins at your words, his eyes taking over a hooded look that has you squeeze your thighs for a moment. 

He dips his head forwards, bringing his lips on a level with your ears, the proximity allowing him to take in your scent and let his warm breath caress your skin. “Oh, is that so?” It feels as if his voice has become ten times huskier after your words, a thrill of arousal flickering up your spine. “Well, that makes two of us.”

You lick your lips yet again, and tilt your head forwards. You’re batting your eyelashes at him when you speak, the flirting game you’re playing is all too obvious now. “Good answer,” you muses, grinning mischievously. 

The tension between you two is thick enough to be cut with a knife, and you figure that with Hel away somewhere probably getting dicked down, you’re more than allowed to have some fun yourself. After all, she knows that there was a time you’ve lusted after Aegon. 

“I’m glad you’re so easily pleased,” he teases. It’s clear he’s noticed your attraction towards him, and even though his jab at your susceptible manner should make you feel slightly embarrassed, you can’t bring yourself to care; not when his scent and the warmth emanating off him makes your mind hazy with lust. 

He has his signature smirk splayed over his pouty lips, the one that sputters with cockiness and always has you biting your lips. 

His breathing is just as heavy as yours, and you giggle softly when you feel his hand squeezing your side, and it works to bring you closer towards him, pressing against him to escape the pinch of his fingers. 

Aegon scoffs, and with his head tilted forwards and his hooded, lilac eyes lingering on your lips, it’s his voice ringing out again. “Wanna fuck, sweetheart?” 

It’s as blunt as it can get, yet that’s exactly what you want. “God, yes,” you chuckle. “Two more minutes without you asking, and I would have jumped your bones right here and then.”

“Now, that’s what I call an enthusiastic answer,” he teases. “I know a spot.”

Your side is squeezed once again by him, before he intertwines your fingers and leads you through the crowd to the rooms upstairs. As far as you know, he doesn’t know any of the people belonging to the frat that hosts this party, yet you wouldn’t even care if he’d fuck you out in the open as long as it would give you what you want. Him. 

Small Taglist: @heimtathurs @valeskafics @black-dread @watercolorskyy @darylandbethfanforever9 @hypocritic-trash-baby @connorsui @moonlightfoxx @snowystark @fan-goddess @lovelykhaleesiii

[mokulule]

Almanac - Chapter 3

Been a while since I uploaded something. Had some real busy weeks, got sick on top, just all sorts of annoyances. Tbh this has been done for a while but I was contemplating where to split this chapter, and finally decided here, which means it was done.

Ship: Dead on Main (Danny/Jason) First | Masterlist

Chapter 3 - 12th October, Full Hunter’s Moon

Danny was still angry and frustrated at what the Justice League had made him do, when they could have just asked Phantom, but now at least he was calm, centered.

He breathed in deep, tasting the ectoplasm, not with lungs or tastebuds but with his core. It was quite amazing what a week of intense meditation could do for the Realms. It made him feel a bit guilty that he’d prioritized living over his duties so much, but well, for the foreseeable future he would have plenty of time to play king.

The millennia of stagnation from Pariah’s imprisonment and the time before that of Pariah’s betrayal when the power had gone to his head, had not done great things for the health of the realms. Danny was slowly but steadily changing that.

It was certainly easier to focus on than the fact that he had been summoned as the freaking Ghost King to do something he’d been on the way to deal with, locking him into a deal. He hadn’t had the heart to tell them he’d already been on the way there.

If only they had been a little bit less desperate - a little slower in their setup, all this could have been avoided.

All this power - he breathed in - the Realms’ energy, his to command and shape, infinite, still heavy with Pariah’s madness, but getting better, more colorful, lighter the more he channeled it through his core. All this power and yet, or rather because of that, he was bound by rules.

There were laws governing creatures such as him, such as Clockwork and Pandora: Ancients. Danny chuckled, it was still ridiculous to think of himself as such, he was after all only seven years dead. But as Clockwork said it wasn’t so much a matter of time as it was a matter of power.

Danny had already been powerful. Halfas, because of their still living nature, were naturally inclined to change and gaining power at a rate full ghosts didn’t. Danny having died as a teen while going through puberty (a big change in itself) allowed for exceptional power growth. Coupled with the stressful environment where he fought for his half-life weekly if not daily he had been on the fast track to become an ancient before he hit fifty.

Becoming the de facto Ghost King on his eighteenth birthday stopped that in a way. After a bout of panicked confusion things had stabilized, especially after the coronation made things all official. Danny’s power growth had slowed. It would be quite some time before Danny would be considered an ancient on his own merits now, which was just fine by him. On the flip side becoming Ghost King had made him an ancient by job description.

“Hard at work I see.”

“Clockwork,” Danny greeted, blinking open his eyes. His mentor smiled back at him from an old face that rapidly morphed younger.

“Your Majesty,” Clockwork greeted in return with a flourishing bow in the air.

Danny grimaced. “Really, Clockwork?”

“But that is what you are for the foreseeable future, is it not?”

Danny looked away, biting his lip. Indecision warred inside him, but in the end he couldn’t help but look back up and ask, “will it work?”

Warm amusement shone in the red eyes. “As long as you’re careful, this is not an easy path you’ve decided on.”

Danny scoffed. “How could I not? It was the only thing I could think of.”

“You don’t have any obligation.”

“Clockwork, I took a man from his family, their grief is paying for my assistance. I never-“ his own grief and revulsion rose up in a wave, he felt as if he would drown.

“I didn’t ask for this.” The words were choked out and small.

Clockwork opened his arms and Danny rushed forward into the embrace. He held on desperately, as a sob wrenched through his chest. So much for his calm and meditation. A hand brushed through his hair beneath where the crown floated.

“Having a kind heart is not an easy thing for a king.”

“I wanted them to hurt too though, for putting me in that situation,” Danny admitted quietly.

“Mhmm, a very human emotion.”

Danny flinched, but Clockwork continued running his hand through his hair undeterred.

“And did you let this emotion affect your decision?”

“No, of course not. The world needed saving, that was the most important.”

“Then I don’t see what else you could have done, my King.” Danny sighed, letting it go and letting the steady tick tock of the seconds counted by Clockwork’s chest calm him down.

“In any case there’s no changing the past,” Danny announced with forced cheer as he pushed away.

Clockwork promptly bonked him on the head with his staff and he yelped.

“A hard earned lesson.”

“I wasn’t asking you to.” Danny grumbled rubbing at his head. It was barely a tap, but it still smarted. “I just can’t help but wonder, you know? They thought I was a city spirit, Clockwork! If I could just change that misconception.”

“How about you focus on the present instead, hmmm? Could there maybe be something you’ve forgotten?”

“Forgotten?” Danny felt a curl of worry in his gut.

“mmhmmm,” Clockwork hummed in agreement.

Danny wracked his brain, but simply couldn’t figure out what he’d forgotten.

“How is that new pet of yours?”

“Pet?! I don’t have- Wait, you don’t mean Jason? He’s a human, not a pet! Really, Clockwork.” Danny turned away, disgruntled at Clockwork, both for calling Jason a pet and also because thinking of Jason brought all that he’d done right back up to the surface.

“And how is the human?”

“I don’t know, okay,” Danny huffed. “I haven’t seen him. But I’m sure he’s fine, he’s a big boy and I gave him free rein of the castle.”

“The semi-sentient castle that responds to your mood?”

Oh.

Oh no.

“Fuck.”

Oo o oO

“Jason!” A voice yelled frantically. There were hands on him shaking him. He blinked open his eyes, not quite focused and suddenly there were green eyes and cold gloved hands on his cheeks.

“Oh good, you’re alive.” There was a lot of relief in that voice.

Jason pushed away and the hands let him. He was normally faster to wake than this, but he must have really been woken up at the wrong time. He felt immensely tired. With a yawn he sat himself up. It took him a moment to comprehend the figure floating cross-legged inches off the bedspread; fluffy white hair and dark brows worried over green eyes, dark clothing, white gloves and a floating nebulous cape behind him that was like a rare view of the night sky. It was the burning crown that finally cut through the haze with a shot of fear through his system.

He moved back, away, until his back hit the headboard. His ears hurt in phantom pain and his eyes flickered searching for signs that the king was angry, but he seemed surprisingly solid, human except for the obvious glowing and floating. Also that was not anger, it was worry and pain and… sadness?

“It seems I have more things to apologize for than I realized.”

Jason met his eyes then and at that moment he just looked tired and sad. He reached a hand out to Jason.

“Will you join me for breakfast?”

Jason didn’t take the hand.

Eventually the king grimaced and looked away. “If you’d rather eat alone that’s also fine, but I think I owe you an explanation and an apology.”

“Okay,” Jason finally answered hesitantly.

“Okay?”

“Okay I’ll join you for breakfast.” Still, instead of taking the offered hand, Jason got out on his own on the other side of the bed. He felt a bit wobbly as he got to his feet but he refused to show any more weakness.

This time as they walked and floated respectively along the hallways there were windows. If the view was to be believed it was still night, clear and starry, with a full moon.

The king noticed him looking and floated over to a window looking out. His white starlight hair moved in a non existent wind and something in his expression softened.

“It is always a clear night sky here. The stars move with the seasons in the living realm matching the northern hemisphere. It is a way for me to tell time. It’s easy to loose track here otherwise.”

Jason would believe that, he’d already lost track of time.

“How long have I been here?”

The king hunched his shoulders. “It’s been thirteen days since the equinox. It is lucky you are as liminal as you are or you would be in a worse state.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means you are to some degree feeding on the energy that make up the Realms, like a ghost would.” The king sighed and turned around.

“So first apology. I had thought I gave you freedom to explore but I forgot to take into account that the castle is semi-sentient and responds to my mood, and my mood haven’t been the best.” His face darkened and it was like the hallway itself got darker and more cramped. Jason’s heart beat fast in his chest, he couldn’t focus on that, he wanted to step backwards, but he couldn’t let fear control him. He had to focus on something else.

“You forgot your castle is magical?” Jason asked, putting as much disbelief into the tone as he could force through his tight throat.

The oppressiveness disappeared, but now the King just looked tired again. “I have been king for two years, Jason, of which I still spent most of the time haunting my hometown. But still I should have realized, so I’m sorry.”

He seemed truthful, but still-

“Two years?” Jason asked weakly, that was no time at all and it was so little compared to what Jason had imagined, compared to what he suspected anyone imagined.

“Yeah, which leads into the second apology. I am in many ways still getting used to the power that comes with the position. I get a bit hard on mortal senses if I’m not careful with my emotions, your liminality protects you some, but,” the King flew closer and hovered so they were at eye height, Jason stiffened. “I was upset and I hurt you. I should have controlled myself better and now you’re scared of me.”

“I’m not scared.”

“Jason, I can taste your fear.”

A spike of fear shot through him and he gave in and stepped back. The king just gazed at him sadly.

“Again, I’m sorry.” He looked for a moment as if he wanted to say something more, but then his shoulders fell and he turned around. “The kitchen is this way.”

The drapes by the windows somehow seemed disappointed in Jason and when he stood still too long without following his section of the hallway tilted. He quickly stepped forward so he wouldn’t overbalance and followed the king - before the castle decided more drastic measures were needed.

Oo o oO

When Jason had imagined what it meant to join the king for breakfast, he wasn’t sure what he’d imagined. But it certainly wasn’t to be seated at a plain wooden table with benches in a medieval looking kitchen with what looked like a glowing, green skinned lunch lady complete with pink dress, hairnet and gloves.

“Thank you for coming with such short notice,” the king addressed the lunch lady from where he was seated across from Jason.

“Oh, it is no problem sweetie,” she replied in a kind voice as she set down a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon in front of each of them. “Growing boys needs lots of protein. And you are still much too skinny.”

Jason watched in fascination as the king rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment. It was such a human gesture.

“Yeah I’m afraid it’s a bit too late for me to do more growing.”

“Not all growing is physical, dear. Cookie?”

The sudden subject change was enough to give Jason whiplash. But the king seemed to almost expect it from his fond smile.

“You’re right of course. And yes, if you’re willing, we’d love a cookie each.”

The old lady chuckled and procured two chocolate chip cookies seemingly from nowhere. She put them down on two separate plates.

“Kingship suits you, Phantom, you’ve gotten much more polite.” There was something there, a history Jason could only begin to guess at.

“You can thank Dora’s lessons for that.”

“The dragon princess? I will be sure to remember. But I must go now, you take care boys.”

Dragon princess? It was like Jason had walked into a storybook.

They ate for a while in silence as Jason contemplated the scene he’d just watched. The king, or Phantom, Jason remembered now he’d also called himself that, seemed very young. He looked to be around Jason’s age, but of course that didn’t necessarily mean anything since he was a ghost, but he had said he had only been king for two years.

“So you eat,” Jason said just to get a conversation going.

“I can eat, but I don’t have to. Especially not here in the Realms.”

“And me? You said I absorb some energy here because I’m liminal? What does that mean?”

“It means that your spirit, your soul, whatever you wanna call it, hasn’t entirely forgotten how to be dead. But you’re not a proper ghost, so you can’t entirely feed on just the energy here.”

“So if I had never died?”

“This wouldn’t even be an option. I would never take a fully living here for long, they would be driven mad.”

Jason looked down at his food and continued eating, it was delicious and doubly more so because he was starving.

It wasn’t long before Phantom stood up.

“Thank you for indulging me. I won’t force my company on you any longer. The castle shouldn’t give you as much trouble as before - it is not meant to be a prison for you.” He seemed to say the last more to the room than Jason, there was a stern almost admonishing edge.

He was starting to leave and Jason felt a sudden urgency in his chest. This was the first interaction he’d had with anyone in what was apparently nearly two weeks. The loneliness and inactivity loomed like a beast.

“No, wait!”

Phantom turned halfway back. “Did you need anything else?”

“You can’t just leave me with no purpose! I need stuff to do or I will grow mad,” Jason pleaded.

“I don’t-“ Phantom frowned, he made a resigned movement with his hands. “Well, what do you like to do?”

“I-“ And suddenly that line of questioning felt way too intimate and personal. Jason settled for “I like to fight.”

There was something almost disappointed in the king’s gaze that grated in Jason’s chest. He sighed.

“I should have figured. Fright Knight.” He raised his voice on the last two words and suddenly from one blink to the next, there was a figure in grey gladiator armor and a flaming purple cape kneeling in front of him.

“My liege, what can I do for you?”

“Our guest-” he indicated Jason, “wishes to spend his time mastering the art of combat and is in need of a worthy sparring partner.”

The fright knight rose and studied Jason, only now did Jason realize he could see nothing but darkness and a pair of eyes inside the helmet.

“He doesn’t look like much.”

“He’s still alive, make sure he stays that way,” the king said absolutely deadpan, before turning and flying off, cape flaring behind him.

- Yay! Jason got something to eat finally. And he's for sure not gonna be bored anymore, so that's something XD

Things are looking up, or?

Anyways, hope you enjoyed. Comments and tags are greatly appreciated. For continuations you can subscribe to the masterpost

[koolaidoverwriting]

Dating HCs for Toby, Cody and EJ x a plus size female reader? NSFW and SFW 🫡

PLUS SIZE DATING HEADCANONS

CHARACTERS: Ticci Toby, X-Virus, Eyeless Jack, AFAB Reader

This was pretty fun. I had some trouble with Cody's part. I don't think about him often... My bad...

CW: Explicit Sexual Content, Overall Fluffy Fun, Positive Body Talk, Nothing Graphic But There's Biting

NSFW UNDER CUT! MINORS DNI!

TICCI TOBY

SFW:

Fiiirst of all: Toby loves your body. He's not the type to judge anyone by their frame. He thinks you're absolutely gorgeous because you're his. God forbid you feel insecure because you'll get drowned in kisses and love bites. If you have stretch marks? Toby thinks they're so fucking cool. Like a tiger's stripes.

Toby squishes your round cheeks, telling you just how much he adores you. He snuggles up against you while he yaps on about his day. The way he stumbles over his words and speeds from topic to topic makes you chuckle.

He especially likes laying on your stomach and chest. Toby could rest on top of you for hours. There's nothing better than coming home to warm cuddles after a tiring mission. And nothing better than waking up to the sight of your pretty face.

Toby would ask for a piggyback ride. Literally whenever he can. He loves playing with your hair while you carry him around. Maybe he'll try to give you one, too.

But... Toby's weak and would probably end up breaking a wrist. It's okay. It was worth it to see your reaction when he lifted you up.

NSFW:

You can't have thick thighs and not expect Toby to go in between them. Toby is a total sucker for thighs. He'll kiss up your thighs, leave small hickeys, and squish them as much as he can.

Toby fucking loves when you crush his head while he's eating you out. Suffocating in his favourite person ever? Fuck yeah. There's something so attractive about you squirming and heaving while he pleasures you.

He also adores your breasts. They're breathtaking. He thinks they look really good in tight and revealing clothing. Toby takes every opportunity to fondle your tits. Or better yet, suck on them. You're watching a movie together? Oh, he's definitely going to play with your tits while you watch the movie.

Toby prefers fucking you from the back. That way he gets a good view of your ass and he gets to grope your breasts. Toby gives you plenty of compliments. Whispering how much he loves your body, calling you sweet names, all while he abuses your sensitive pussy.

Aftercare with Toby means you two will cuddle until Toby starts craving food. From there, you'll either head to the kitchen or open up Doordash. Either way, Toby's indecision makes for lighthearted banter over what to eat.

X-VIRUS

SFW:

A general rule for dating Cody, you have to get over any and all dislike toward rats. Cody has a bunch of rats, both as his pets and test subjects.

Cody thinks your chub is perfect for him. He doesn't care about anyone's appearance, so why would he care about yours? He's honestly still not over the fact you chose to date him. Plus, what's better than extra plush to knead when he's stressed?

As a workaholic, Cody rarely sleeps in his bed. He's normally asleep at his desk with his lab-coat still on. You find yourself carrying him to bed more often than not. But it's fine. Because when he blinks awake and softly mumbles your name, it's the cutest thing in the world.

When you do get to sleep with Cody, expect for him to wrap his arms around you and bury his face into your chest. He hums against your skin, noting how nice you smell, or how warm you feel.

He likes sitting on your lap and squishing your fat while he thinks about future experiments. Subconscious fidgeting. 

NSFW:

My version of Cody isn't the most sexuality active. He still thinks you're hot and would love to fuck you over his desk, but he has a looooot of work to do... So he isn't regularly thinking about sex.

Anyway, speaking of fucking you over his desk — he can and will do that. Cody bends you over, fucking into you with a careless rhythm. He gropes your thighs, your ass, your hips. All the soft flesh he can get his hands on.

He clearly prefers handsy stuff over penetration. Cody would love to feel you all over. He notes down your reaction for every little thing, figuring out what gets you most excited. Your breasts and belly are the funnest to play with. You may catch him squeezing your breasts as a stress reliever sometimes.

Cody typically hates surprises, but you giving him an impromptu blowjob underneath the table? Absolutely (just watch out for the rats). He could not avoid looking down at your beautiful face sucking him off — how your cheeks hollow and your face gets flushed a pretty pink.

With aftercare, Cody will offer you water and a kiss on the forehead. He'll either stay with you for a few minutes or go straight back to working. It depends on the situation... But if you ask him politely to stay, he might stay cuddling you.

EYELESS JACK

SFW:

Oh, Jack could care less about your body shape. He likes what's on the inside, not what's on the outside (this is a pun). Your body looks so fucking edible. He just wants to leave little bitemarks all over you.

Jack cares about you dearly. You're sick? Rest assured, he's going to be by your side, cuddling up with you because he can't get sick himself. You're hungry? He'll make you an entire feast of all your favourite foods, and some kidneys for himself. You're sad? Jack will try everything in his power to cheer you up. His monotone voice doesn't mean he doesn't love you any less. Trust him.

Whenever you cuddle together, you will have to put the AC or fan on max. Jack's body temperature is always hot. The warmth would be far too suffocating without something to cool it down.

Showers with Jack are nice for that reason. Your bodies can be pressed up against each other in a cool, intimate shower.

His love languages are quality time and gift giving. Expect him to hug you out of nowhere or bring you a random organ, similar to how a cat brings back dead birds.

NSFW:

Jack is a hefty guy. Muscular, tall, and can lift you up like you're made of stuffing. He uses his strength during sex. He knows how to handle you; he can fuck you standing up, fuck you on the bed, against the wall — anywhere you want.

But that doesn't mean he isn't soft with you. He cares about your body and wants you to be pleasured nicely. Jack tries not to hurt you with his claws, or bruise your cervix with his absolute monster of a cock.

You may get some dark bruises on your body though. Jack loooves biting. He also likes when you bite him as well. So if you're into that, go for it. Jack will be delighted.

Jack can eat you out real good. Consequently, you squeeze his head with your thighs, moaning out with pleasure. Your hands grip the sheets as he thrusts his tongues in and out of your cunt. Jack thinks your reaction is just adorable. To him, it's the best part of giving you head.

You can definitely ride his face, too. Who the fuck cares if he can hardly breathe? He certainly doesn't. Jack will happily lick up all your juices. He has three tongues for a reason.

!!! for some reason the images are glitched to me... huh. weird. well. i hope this was good! i've never written an x reader for cody before. fun little experiment... :3

[kyouka-supremacy]

BSD Official Guidebook Tenkaroku - characters profiles

Profiles from the season 3 guidebook. I heavily relied on automatic translators for this, so if you notice any mistake, please feel free to bring it to my attention. I'll be posting the Japanese original text in reblogs not to make this post too long. Other guidebooks profiles: Shinkaroku; DEAD APPLE; Gongeroku.

Fifteen arc

Osamu Dazai Age: 15 years old Height: 155cm Weight: 51kg Impression when he met Chuuya for the first time: “I'll never feel positively about him again” Places he would like to visit if he went travelling: Famous suicide (by drowning) spots What are the qualities of a “king”?: The ones of people like Mori-san

Chuuya Nakahara Age: 15 years old Height: 150cm Weight: 53kg Impression when he met Dazai for the first time: “There's trash all around” Places he would like to visit if he went travelling: I want to go to a trip overseas with my friends What are the qualities of a “king”?: Being strong

Arthur Rimbaud Age: 27 years old Height: 185cm Weight: 68kg What he believes are his strengths and weaknesses: Strength: having a useful ability / Weaknesses: being sensitive to cold Favourite type: A woman who can warm him up Motto: Always put the mission above everything else Something he wants right now: His lost memories of the past

Canon

Osamu Dazai Something they've been into recently: Showing everyone the footage of Kunikida going insane because of Q's ability Something at which they think they can't lose to anyone: Since Ranpo-san is here, there can't be a “can't lose to anyone” What they want to overcome: Nothing at all

Atsushi Nakajima Something they've been into recently: Checking the bankbook page with his salary Something at which they think they can't lose to anyone: He doesn't have any confidence in himself, so there's no such thing. What they want to overcome: I want to learn to have the common sense of and behave like a member of society.

Kyouka Izumi Something they've been into recently: Research on cooking for Atsushi Something at which they think they can't lose to anyone: Gratitude towards Atsushi and the Detective Agency What they want to overcome: I want to become less startled by thunders.

Doppo Kunikida Something they've been into recently: Education for the increased number of new employees Something at which they think they can't lose to anyone: Ability to plan, and passion to carry it out perfectly What they want to overcome: My own imperfections that sometimes prevent me from carrying out my plans

Junichirou Tanizaki Something they've been into recently: Visiting western pastries shops with Naomi Something at which they think they can't lose to anyone: I'm embarrassed to say it, but supporting and protecting a certain woman. What they want to overcome: My indecisiveness

Kenji Miyazawa Something they've been into recently: Teaching farming to the members of destroyed gangs Something at which they think they can't lose to anyone: Love for nature What they want to overcome: I want to be able to use a computer

Ranpo Edogawa Something they've been into recently: Initiating Kyouka to the deliciousness of cheap candies Something at which they think they can't lose to anyone: I can't lose to anyone in anything What they want to overcome: I am perfect like I am now

Yukichi Fukuzawa Something they've been into recently: Showing up at a Go club Something at which they think they can't lose to anyone: Excellence of subordinates What they want to overcome: The mistakes of the assassin from the past

Akiko Yosano Something they've been into recently: Collecting photos of dissected patients' internal organs Something at which they think they can't lose to anyone: Human body dismemberment skills What they want to overcome: If possible, I want to save patients who have no choice but to die.

Chuuya Nakahara Something they've been into recently: Enriching his wine cellar assortment at home Something at which they think they can't lose to anyone: Hatred towards Dazai What they want to overcome: When buying a big motorcycle, I want to stop checking whether my feet can touch the ground

Ryuunosuke Akutagawa Something they've been into recently: Searching for Dazai's house Something at which they think they can't lose to anyone: I would rather have something that no one can beat. What they want to overcome: My nemesis, the man-tiger.

Ougai Mori Something they've been into recently: Coming up with new strategies to recruit Dazai Something at which they think they can't lose to anyone: Organization management techniques that request rationality and logic What they want to overcome: Buying too many clothes for Elise

Fyodor Dostoyevsky Age: Unknown Height: Unknown Weight: Unknown What he believes are his strengths and weaknesses: Strength: wishing for world happiness / Weakness: low blood pressure Favourite type: He loves all human beings equally Motto: Happiness in this world Something he wants right now: Someone to talk with who has the same brain as him

Katai Tayama Age: 23 years old Height: 175cm Weight: 53kg What he believes are his strengths and weaknesses: Strength: his life is not expensive (no expenses for transportation and socialization) / Weakness: if left to himself, he won't change his clothes Favourite type: A refined, dignified and gentle woman Motto: There are many dangers outside the house Something he wants right now: Faster communication networks

[goldustwomun]

all of me wants all of you (s.b.)

pairing: sirius black x younger potter!reader

summary: something about your relationship with sirius black had never sit quite right with you, and now that he's back after two years of travelling the world, you're beginning to think that you'll soon find out what'll happens if the two of you finally fall over the edge of whatever precipice you've been teetering close to all these years. plus, you've got to work with him all summer, so what's the worst that could happen?

warnings: angst so much angst, some healing as well, hugs from a concerned mother, more angst, more angst, fluff?, actual communication omg, do you ever meet someone's eyes and just one look from them has you breaking down and bawling, yeah :) , not proofread but i'll do it in the morning!!

wc: 3.3k+

note: i've been on some sort of writing kick so enjoy these daily updates D: anyway can y'all tell i'm MISSING my mum. only four more weeks though! x

pt i. / pt ii. / pt iii.

You were elbow deep in a sink of dirty dishes, your Mum towelling dry the plates next to you, when you finally came out and said it.

“Am I a disappointment, Mum?”

She froze right there, arms poised and plate hovering mid-air. It was only a second later when she recovered, gently placing the dish on the counter when she turned to look at you. Her head was titled in that concerned way of hers, and you’re not sure what it was about the look in her eyes – of hurt and worry and love – but the tears started flowing right then and there.

“Oh, my love, how could you ever think that?” she questioned, tugging you into her arms, not caring about the water from your hands or the tears from your eyes soaking her new cotton dress. She smelled of chamomile tea and custard creams and home. And as much as you thought you hated her sometimes; her reassurance was what you needed most when the world seemed out to get you.

“You could never disappoint me or Da’, you know that.” She pulled back, forcing you to look up into her eyes, noticing the shimmer across her own irises. “Tell me you know that my sweetest girl.”

“I—” and your voice broke but you kept going— “I don’t know if I do.” With a deep breath you tried to explain it all. “It just seems like everyone hates me sometimes. And I guess it, I’m difficult, I know that I am, but sometimes—I mean, a lot of the time, really, it feels like I can’t control it. When I argue and bicker and stomp away in a tantrum. It’s these feelings—I have so many, and I never know what to do with them, and it’s like drowning in indecision and I always make the wrong choice.”

“I know, love, I know,” she soothed, pulling you back in and smoothing her palm across your hair. You melted into her embrace like you hadn’t since you were ten years old. “You’re so much like me, you know? I swear, hear it every time we’re out with our friends. And when I was your age, I felt that way too. Lost and overwhelmed and like I wasn’t enough.”

“So, what did you do—to get rid of those feelings, I mean?” you asked, already dreading her answer.

“I didn’t. And you shouldn’t want to, either.” You almost lifted your head to argue but stopped yourself before you could. “Your emotions and feelings and thoughts and dreams—they make you who you are. Of course, it’s important to acknowledge the root of the ones that pester you the most and try to understand why they have such a hold over you. And maybe it’s my fault, really, for not saying it more, but we are so so proud of you.”

“I think you say it more to James and Sirius than you do to me,” you pointed out, a slight bite to your words but not enough to sting.

“James is, well, James. I can’t deny that he’s occasionally—” you raised your eyebrow incredulously at that and she responded with an amused eyeroll— “struggled with his classes and getting it together, so it seemed important to guide him in the right direction with praises. Sirius, on the other hand—well, we’re all he has. We just wanted him to feel loved.”

You nodded, understanding, but not sure how you fit into all of this. “Then you, my love. When you were younger you were always naturally good at things. I never understood where you got that from cause it certainly wasn’t from me. You put little effort into things and excelled, so maybe I got used to the idea that I knew you’d always be alright even if I didn’t say anything. But that’s my fault, I shouldn’t have withheld my pride out of laziness.”

“I don’t think you’re lazy, Mum,” you urged, but she hushed you with that stern voice of hers.

“I’m sure you don’t but shush because I won’t admit it again,” she scolded, her voice entirely mocking and somewhere between those tears, you managed a smile. “Your Da’ and I always knew you’d go on to do brilliant things. You’re intelligent, and passionate, and those muggle kids of yours adore you. You’re shaping their lives in ways you can’t even know, and they’re lucky to have you, just like I am, my sweet girl.”

She leaned forward, placing a kiss to the crown of your head.

“And do you hate that I live at home still?”

She reeled back, both shocked and confused. “of course not. We love having you here! It’s entirely selfish, really. Got to convert James’ old room into a study, as well as keep you around for the company and to help with chores. If anything, I don’t want you to move out,” she explained, serious. “Really, if you had more natural light in your room, we would’ve helped you to a new place the second you graduated from Hogwarts.”

You barked out a laugh at that, entirely believing her. “Okay, okay. I get it. I’m wanted, or whatever.” You could feel your cheeks flaring at the thought of saying it out loud, but you ignored the feeling to relish in your Mum’s embrace a little while longer.

“Oh, yeah—whatever,” she teased, reaching up to wipe a stray tear from your face. “You could never disappoint me.”

All you could do was nod before your face dropped with apprehension. “What—what is it, love?” she asked, concerned herself.

“Well, you see, you say that now but I did something kind of dumb…” you trailed off, unable to confess just yet.

“What did you—you didn’t murder someone, did you? Because I love you but I don’t think I could manage Azkaban with those arthritis flare ups I’ve been getting.”

“What--! Mum, no, I didn’t—how could I? How could you think I’d be capable of murder?!” and really it had been the longest you’d gone without absolutely belting at someone.

“You are quite easily irritated,” she reasoned.

“If people stopped being so irritating—” you stopped, taking a deep breath, before confessing— “No, it’s both better and worse.”

“Go on,” she encouraged, but even she didn’t seem entirely convinced.

“I kissed Sirius.”

And it was like crickets between the two of you. Not a scolding shout or a cry of horror or—

“Okay… and is that it?” she asked bluntly.

“What do you mean ‘is that it?’. It’s wild, unbelievable, otherworldly, even!” you sputtered, not quite comprehending the calm with which she was speaking.

“Oh, don’t be dramatic, love. It’s not a good look,” and she pushed you out of the way to continue scrubbing at the dirty dishes, ignoring your stunned frame.

“Aren’t you going to ask me ‘why’?” you pushed, peering over her shoulder to check she was very much alive and breathing and not pranking you with a bit of some sort.

“I don’t need to, I know why,” she answered simply. You balked, tugging her shoulder back so she halted her movements and turned to face you.

“And what might that ‘why’ be?”

“It’s simple, really. You love him, you’ve always loved him. Since you were five and he pushed James into the dirt for stealing your copy of that Tiger, Wizard, and Cabinet’ book.”

You couldn’t help the way your hand slapped against your face right then, from exhaustion or exasperation, you weren’t sure. “It’s the Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, Mum,” you groaned.

“That definitely doesn’t sound right,” she pouted. “Anyway, he got the book back from James and you were so pleased you came up to me and said ‘Mummy, I think Sirius isn’t so bad after all, can we keep him?’. And when I explained the laws around owning human beings, you huffed and hid under the dining room table all day until you fell asleep.”

“Well, that does sound like me…”

“Of course, it sounds like you. I’m your mother,” she chided. “You didn’t start pretending to hate Sirius until you were about ten or eleven and he got that first girlfriend of his. What was her name—Lacey? Macey?”

“Stacey,” you chewed out, only to realise the anger with which you spoke her name despite never having known her. “Oh—”

“’Oh’ indeed. And what did you say to young Sirius after this kiss?” she pried, entirely engrossed in the story now as she rested her hip against the damp counter.

“I might’ve—you know---”

“No! you didn’t!” she burst out, already knowing exactly what you were going to say.

“I did, Mum, I did,” you moaned, pathetic and questioning if there was any way to rectify the situation, you’d found yourself in.

“Well, I can’t help you with that, love. You’re on your own, kid,” she explained, wiping her hands clean before sending you off (you weren’t entirely sure where, exactly) with a pat on your back.

If you were anyone else, you would’ve taken such an encouraging conversation and somewhat-healed trauma of your childhood as a sign to go speak with Sirius.

But no, lucky for you, you were you.

He hadn’t shown up to work all week, using the flu as an excuse. So when James and Lily invited you over for a small gathering— “Really, James, two parties in one month? What kind of home are you raising my nephew in!”—you hadn’t thought much of it, or him.

“Do let me know if I’ve got this correct– you’ve decided to host a fourth of July party despite not being American, or, now that I think about it further, ever having been to America?” you questioned, genuinely worrying for Lily’s sanity as she rocked a bumbling Harry on her lap, cheeks painted with red, white and blue stars.

“Well, when you put it like that,” James groused, pouting, arms folded against his chest despite being the adult that he was.

“How else would you put it, James?” you argued, exasperated.

Lily perked up at the sound of a potential fight and silenced the two of you with a single look. If anyone was made to be a mother, it had to be Lily. She was compassionate and kind and gentle, as much as she could scare you with a simple glance, she could soothe all your worries as well.

“Look, I just needed an excuse to have a beer, and what better excuse is there than this! The holiday of beers—” I thought that was St. Paddy’s “—Hush! Otherwise, I’d have to wait for someone’s birthday or, what’s the next holiday–? Halloween? That’s ages away.”

You smirked at his odd logic. “Obviously it doesn’t necessarily have to be very Americana or whatever. Red, white and blue– just close your eyes and pretend it’s the beloved Union Jack instead!”

The gathering wasn’t as big as the last one, and you recognised the few familiar faces as Lily and James’ closest friends: Remus, Marlene, Mary, Peter, Sirius—

Sirius? Your head whipped back in a double take, watching as he pulled Remus into a hug ‘hello’ right by the garden gate. He hadn’t noticed you, not yet, but it didn’t take long for his gaze to fixate right on you. You couldn’t read his face, not having ever quite mastered the skill, but this time especially, he looked dazed and withdrawn.

Even his smiled seemed tight, like he didn’t quite mean it, and your heart plummeted at the thought that you’d done that to him.

“I’ll be right back,” you offered, distracted, to James as he preoccupied himself with squeezing Harry’s chubby fist.

Sirius had gone straight inside, probably headed for the kitchen, and you followed suit, wondering what it was about your brother’s house that had the two of you both rushing to and avoiding confrontation.

You found him right where you had expected—peering into the dimly lit fridge and pulling out a bottle of beer.

“Sirius,” you said, announcing your presence as you let the door click shut behind you. Luckily, no one else was inside the house, rather taking in the one day of sunlight and light breeze in an otherwise damp English spring.

You watched as his shoulders tensed instantly, and you just knew he wanted to be anywhere else but there, with you, at that moment, but he turned to face you anyway.

“How can I help, Potter?” he asked, keeping his cards close to his chest still.

“Can we talk?”

“Isn’t that what we’re doing right now,” he pointed out, brow raised as he took a deep gulp of his drink, cringing at the taste.

“That’s not what I mean, and you know it,” you pushed back, inching a step forward.

 “No, I don’t know what you mean,” he replied smoothly, seemingly untouched by the implication behind your words.

“You’re such a prick sometimes, Sirius.”

“And you’ve only just noticed? My, didn’t take you as slow, Potter,” he noted, mockingly, and you flinched at his casual cruelty.

“Don’t do that,” you scolded.

“Do what?” he fought back, “Speak my mind? Seems like you’re the only one allowed to do that around here, and when anyone dares contest, well, all hell breaks loose.”

“You’re not speaking your mind, though,” you argued.

“Ah, and you know my mind so well, do you?” The annoying thing about Sirius, amongst many other things, was that he knew how to get under your skin. Had perfected the craft after years of verbal combat with you. So his words poked and prodded at your soft underbelly with ease as he brandished his hurt around like a swordsman with a too-heavy sword.

“Maybe not entirely, but when it comes to us, I think I know enough.” He stayed silent after that, hesitant, as if waiting for you to make the first move. “The other day, when we kissed—” and you knew you were getting hotter because something, some feeling, flickered behind his irises “—I said it was a mistake—”

“—I know, love. I was there,” he scowled. “No need to remind a man of his failings.”

“Just— let me finish!” You inhaled, slow, before continuing. “I said it was a mistake when, in fact, I felt the opposite. It’s just—it’s you and I, Sirius, and when it comes to us, I might know, inside, what I mean and feel and intend to show but when it comes to the actual ‘doing’ part of it all, I always seem to mess up. So, when I said it was a mistake, what I really meant was—”

And it was his turn to cut you off with his mouth, only this time it was sweet and yearning and apologetic as opposed to the fire and passion and lust that had guided the two of you the last time you’d found yourself in his hold.

His mouth slid over your own, careful and inquisitive, whilst his palms cradled your face, as if you’d slip out of his grasp if he moved even an inch in the wrong direction.

It was lovely, really.

As much as you wished for him to keep going, to keeping kissing you like he might yearn for you too (though you wouldn’t be saying those three words for a while), you were horribly aware of the fact that Lily, or worse, your brother, might walk in at any moment.

So, Sirius didn’t allow himself to get carried away with you, not yet at least, and instead he pulled away with a content sigh, tracing your bottom lip with his thumb as if to memorise it by feel alone.

“Is that our thing then? Kisses in the form of sneak-attacks?” you mused, vibrating and giddy and utterly pleased.

“Could be, if you want?” and it seemed like he was still entranced with your mouth to properly reply in any meaningful manner.

“Sirius,” you pleaded, urging him to look at you, properly. He tore his gaze away from your lips, finally, and the way his face split into a grin had those fucking butterflies returning, tenfold. “Are you okay?”

“I will be once I take you to mine and do that all over again, only, a little less clothed and a lot more horizontal” he promised, the cheek of his you had come to endearing having return after his previous sulking.

“You’re a menace,” you groaned as he buried his smirking face into the crook of your neck, holding you tight to him before his grip relaxed and he pressed a kiss to your forehead, holding you right there.

“I know, and I’m only joking—well, if you want me to be joking, I will be. But I’m fine—I swear it. It just seems surreal, us, like this,” he explained.

“I get that, it is a bit odd, but I’ve realised you need to contextualise those weird, new feelings and not let them control you, at least, not if they’re ‘bad’ or whatever,” you offered clumsily, trying, in your own way, to relay the same advice your Mum had.

He snorted in response, and you smacked his back from where your arms were wrapped around him. “You sound like your Mum.”

“Mm, that is my Mum. Only, she said it better, and more concise, and in that Mum-way that just makes sense.”

“Ah, well that makes a bit more sense.” He pulled back for a moment, not letting you out of the circle of his arms yet. “We should talk about this a little more, shouldn’t we?”

You nodded, sighing as you moved away from him to get a hold of your thoughts once more. “I think, for me at least, I conflated anger with my feelings for you because I wasn’t exactly sure how to handle them, and deep down, I worried you’d reject me, so it seemed easier to argue with you than—”

“--this,” he finished for you, and he must’ve read the agreement on your face because he bobbed his head in response. “It makes sense, really, and it’s about the same for me, only, there was the whole issue of James and, I mean, I’m older—”

“—by a few years,” you maintained, scowling, and he wanted to kiss you for it.

“Yes, love, but a few years means different things depending on how old you are. We’ve never really been in the same phase of life until now, so I don’t think I wanted it—nor would it have been appropriate, really—until a year or two ago. By then, it seemed too late, so I just kept—”

“—bickering.”

“Yeah, bickering. Arguing. Biting back. It was the safer option.” And everything he said made sense, it was all entirely reasonable, but you still mourned the time lost to not being entirely honest with each other.

“But there’s no point worrying over that now, not when we can’t do anything about it,” he reasoned, noting the faraway look in your eyes and centring you back, there, with him.

“We should get back to the party,” you whispered, fearing what would happen when the two of you left the safety on the kitchen, flooded still with gold and a certain stillness that had you aching for this moment to be forever.

“Yeah, love, let’s go back,” he answered, just as quiet, nudging his head toward the door. Just as your hand came up to turn the doorknob, Sirius’ palm came up in front of you, halting your movements. He stood, still, behind you, and close as ever. You could feel every breath he took, and that damn cologne you’d started missing in the bookstore as well. “Don’t worry about us, love, we’ll be fine,” he assured you.

You answered by turning the knob and making your way back towards the garden. Sirius followed from behind, and when you stepped through the backdoor, you realised how little had changed since you’d gone inside, but also just how much had changed, as well.

as always, please comment and reblog if you enjoyed this <3

[rafesapologist]

the setback ─ rafe cameron; part ten

summary: it's been two years since your departure from the outer banks and rafe cameron has seemingly convinced himself that he can go on with his life as if you never happened, except now more than ever his addiction is at an all time high. whether he was snorting lines of cocaine at wild parties or drowning himself in alcohol to numb the pain, rafe couldn't escape the memories of you. despite his efforts to bury his feelings, your absence lingered like a shadow, haunting him at every turn. meanwhile, you've been navigating life outside the outer banks, trying to carve out a new path for yourself. but no matter how far you've traveled, the memories of rafe cameron still linger in your heart, leaving you with a sense of unfinished business. as you find yourself facing new challenges and opportunities, you can't help but wonder if fate will eventually bring you back to the place where it all began.

warnings: sexual themes, mentions of m*rder, swearing

You found yourself back at the chateau, retreating into the sanctuary of your room with the heavy weight of indecision pressing down on you. The door shut behind you, enveloping you in a cocoon of solitude as you sought refuge from the turmoil swirling outside.

For the past few days, you had confined yourself within these four walls, venturing out only when absolutely necessary – for snacks or brief interactions with your friends to assure them of your well-being. Work obligations pulled you out occasionally, but other than that, you remained hidden away, grappling with the multitude of thoughts and emotions that consumed you.

The encounter with Topper at the golf course had rattled you more than you cared to admit, stirring up old wounds and unresolved feelings that you had buried deep within. And while you had managed to maintain a facade of composure in front of the others, the truth was that you were struggling to make sense of it all in the solitude of your room.

The news that JJ had delivered to you only added to the weight on your shoulders, casting a shadow of uncertainty over the already tumultuous situation. You found yourself torn between conflicting loyalties, unsure of which path to take and what consequences awaited you at the end of each.

As you sat on your bed, bathed in the soft glow of lamplight, you couldn't help but feel a sense of exhaustion wash over you – both physical and emotional. The events of the past few days had taken their toll, leaving you drained and depleted, yearning for a moment of respite from the chaos that seemed to follow you wherever you went.

But even in the midst of the turmoil, a part of you longed for clarity, for a glimpse of the path forward that would lead you out of the darkness and into the light. And as you closed your eyes, you whispered a silent prayer, hoping against hope that the answers you sought would reveal themselves in due time, guiding you towards a resolution that would bring peace to your troubled heart.

In the solitude of your room, the weight of your decision bore down on you like a heavy burden, squeezing the air from your lungs and clouding your thoughts with uncertainty. It seemed like a simple choice on the surface – spy on Rafe and risk betraying his trust once again, or refuse and potentially jeopardize the safety of your friends, including John B. But as you wrestled with the implications of each option, you realized that there was no easy way out of this dilemma.

On one hand, agreeing to spy on Rafe would mean betraying his trust yet again, potentially driving a permanent wedge between you and the person who had once held a special place in your heart. The thought of hurting him again made your stomach churn with guilt, but you couldn't ignore the gravity of the situation – Ward's threats loomed over John B like a dark cloud, and any information that could help protect him was invaluable.

On the other hand, refusing to spy on Rafe would mean letting down your friends, particularly John B, whose safety was now at risk more than ever before. You couldn't bear the thought of putting them in harm's way, but at the same time, you couldn't shake the feeling that betraying Rafe's trust would be a betrayal of your own moral code.

It was a war waged within your own mind, a battle between loyalty and duty, between friendship and integrity. And as you grappled with the weight of your decision, you couldn't help but feel a sense of frustration and resentment towards the two people who had unwittingly placed you in this impossible position.

They didn't understand – couldn't understand – the commotion that churned within you, the agonizing choice that lay before you like a noose tightening around your neck. And as you stared out into the darkness beyond your window, you knew that whatever choice you made, it would come at a cost – a cost that you would have to bear alone, with no one to share the burden but yourself.

The knock on your door came as a sudden shock, breaking you out of your own mind and thoughts. You jumped up immediately, not wanting to leave the person on the other side of the door to worry. When you opened the door, you were met face to face with Sarah, who greeted you with a warm smile and a plate of cookies in her hands.

"Hey, Sarah," you replied, returning her smile as you stepped aside to let her in. "Thanks for stopping by, and for the cookies. They smell amazing."

"I just wanted to stop by and check in, and give out some cookies cause I made some because I was bored," Sarah explained, her tone light and friendly as she stepped into your room and set the plate down on your desk.

"Well, I figured you could use a little pick-me-up," she continued, her eyes filled with concern as she glanced around the room. "You've been cooped up in here for days. Everything okay?"

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of how much to reveal. But as you met Sarah's gaze, filled with genuine care and compassion, you felt a wave of gratitude wash over you. "Honestly, I've just been… sorting through some stuff," you admitted, a hint of vulnerability creeping into your voice. "It's been a bit overwhelming."

Sarah looked at you with her eyebrow raised, concern etched on her face as she inquired further. She sat down on the edge of your bed next to you, her expression urging you to open up.

"What do you mean? What's been going on?" she asked gently, her voice soft yet insistent.

You sighed, feeling the weight of the words you were about to speak. "It's... complicated," you began, searching for the right way to explain without overwhelming her with the details.

"I've just been feeling torn between... different things," you continued, choosing your words carefully. "And I'm not sure what the right choice is."

Sarah's head tilted slightly to the side, a gesture that conveyed both curiosity and concern. "Torn between what, Y/N?" she asked gently, her eyes searching yours for answers.

You hesitated, knowing that what you were about to reveal could strain your friendship. "Well… it's about this whole John B situation and Rafe," you began slowly, bracing yourself for her reaction. "I understand that this is a big deal and we have to deal with your dad and all, but JJ told me the other day that you guys need me to spy on Rafe again and I just… I don't think I have the strength to do it. It's not right, Sarah."

Sarah nodded slowly, her expression contemplative as she looked down at the cookie in her hands. Taking a bite, she seemed lost in thought for a moment before speaking. "Look," she began, her tone measured, "if anyone understands your position, it's me. I mean, I was forced to choose between John B and my dad at one point, remember? It wasn't an easy choice, Y/N. But I followed my heart and ended up doing what was right for me, not what everybody else wanted."

Her words resonated with you, reminding you of the difficult choices she had faced in the past. You nodded, grateful for her understanding and empathy. "I just wish it were that simple," you admitted, feeling the weight of the situation bearing down on you once again.

"it's never going to be easy, Y/N, but you can't let everyone make decisions for you. Do what feels right for you." She reassured, looking at you with full sincerity draped across her face.

"I know, but JJ is really counting on me for this, and I can't imagine his disappointment if I tell him I won't do it."

"Y/N, stop worrying about what JJ thinks. JJ is always going to want you to live up to the idea of you he has in his head, but in reality, that's not you. If you feel like it's wrong to do, then don't do it. I, for one, don't want to be the reason you're heartbroken because you were forced to spy on Rafe again. And besides, there are other ways we can spy on Ward."

Her words sank in, and you felt a sense of relief wash over you. Sarah always had a way of cutting through the noise and offering a clear perspective. You nodded, grateful for her advice. "You're right," you admitted, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders, "Thanks, Sarah. I needed to hear that."

Sarah grinned, rising from the bed. "Anytime. Now, try not to worry too much, okay? Everything will work out in the end."

You nodded gratefully, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. "And thanks for the cookies too."

With a reassuring smile, Sarah opened the door. "Just remember, I've got your back no matter what. See you later." And with that, she left you alone with your thoughts and a plate of cookies.

As Sarah left the room, you found yourself alone once again, the silence of your surroundings amplifying the weight of your thoughts. Each passing moment seemed to stretch into eternity as you wrestled with the decision looming over you. Sarah's words were a balm to your troubled mind, offering a sense of solidarity in the midst of uncertainty. You nibbled on a single cookie, its sweetness a small comfort as you leaned back against your headboard, the soft warmth of your room enveloping you. With each bite, you felt a semblance of calm washing over you, allowing you to momentarily escape the weight of the world outside your door.

As the minutes ticked by, you found yourself inching closer to a decision, the weight of Sarah's words guiding you towards a path illuminated by your own convictions. With a renewed sense of resolve, you knew that whatever choice you made, it would be a reflection of your own truth, untainted by the expectations of others.

As you sat there contemplating your next move, the weight of the decision pressing down on you like a ton of bricks, you couldn't shake the feeling of being torn between two worlds. The thought of spying on Rafe again filled you with a sense of dread, yet you also felt a sense of obligation to JJ and your friends. It was a moral dilemma that seemed impossible to resolve.

After a moment of internal debate, you finally made a decision. With a deep breath, you reached for your phone, its screen lighting up as you unlocked it. Your fingers hovered over the contacts app for a brief moment before you mustered up the courage to tap on Rafe's name.

With a deep breath, you pressed your finger to the screen, summoning the courage to make the call. Each passing second felt like an eternity as you waited for the phone to connect, the anticipation building with each ring.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you heard the click of the line connecting, followed by Rafe's voice on the other end. It was a familiar sound, one that stirred a multitude of emotions within you.

"Hello?" Rafe's voice came through the phone, tinged with curiosity and uncertainty.

"Hey, Rafe," you began, your voice betraying the nervousness you felt. "I… I need to talk to you about something."

"Okay, what's going on?" Rafe's voice held a hint of urgency, his curiosity evident in the question.

You hesitated for a moment, gathering your thoughts before deciding to confront the issue head-on. "I think we should talk about it in person," you finally responded, your tone firm yet tinged with apprehension.

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line before Rafe replied, "Sure, where do you want to meet?"

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the conversation to come. "How about at the docks? It's quiet there this time of day."

"Sounds good," Rafe agreed, his voice carrying a mix of emotions. "I'll see you there."

You hurriedly threw on a gray jacket over your white tank top, knowing you needed to shield yourself from the cold ocean breeze at night. As you zipped it up, you contemplated your exit strategy. Going through the living room was out of the question; JJ and the boys were there, and they would undoubtedly inquire about your late-night plans. The only feasible option left was the window.

Approaching the window, you took a moment to ensure it was unlocked before sliding it open with a soft creak. Peering out into the darkness, you gauged the distance to the ground below. It wasn't too far, but still a risk. With a deep breath, you swung one leg over the windowsill, followed by the other, and carefully lowered yourself down onto the grass below.

Once your feet touched the ground, you straightened up, brushing off any dirt or grass clinging to your clothes. Casting a quick glance around to make sure no one had noticed your unconventional exit, you set off toward the docks, the cool night air swirling around you as you made your way through the quiet streets of the Outer Banks.

In typical Outer Banks fashion, the roads were dimly lit, if at all. You were lucky if you found a light pole within a mile of the roads at night. But luckily, the docks weren't too far, and you knew your way well. The only downside was the wind from the nearby ocean, whipping through your hair for the entirety of your walk there.

You began to shiver, your arms crossed tightly against your chest as you approached the docks. The old wooden planks creaked under your weight as you treaded cautiously, scanning the area for any sign of Rafe. The faint sound of waves crashing against the shore provided a soothing backdrop to the eerie silence of the night.

You stood there for a moment, your arms wrapped tightly around you as you gazed out at the vast expanse of the ocean, mesmerized by the rhythmic crashing of the waves against the dock. Lost in deep thought, you waited patiently for Rafe to arrive. You knew his trip from Figure 8 would take a bit longer than yours, but you expected he would be driving, so you wouldn't be waiting all night.

As you stood there, contemplating the gravity of your actions, you couldn't shake the nagging feeling of guilt gnawing at the edges of your conscience. Meeting up with Rafe while still technically with JJ felt like walking on thin ice. The potential fallout, especially if JJ were to find out, weighed heavily on your mind. You knew that it could irreparably damage your relationship with JJ, especially given his history with Rafe.

As the raindrops gently peppered your skin, you couldn't help but feel a sense of frustration rising within you. Each droplet seemed to mock your predicament, adding to the complexity of the situation. You cursed softly, your breath visible in the cool night air as you stood alone on the deserted dock.

Then, like a beacon in the darkness, headlights emerged in the distance, cutting through the night like a knife. Your heart leaped with anticipation, hoping it was Rafe's truck finally arriving. As the vehicle drew closer, the sound of its engine reverberated against the wooden planks beneath your feet, creating a symphony of anticipation and uncertainty.

Your heart skipped a beat as Rafe emerged from the truck, his familiar figure providing a sense of comfort amidst the uncertainty of the night. Despite the hoodie pulled over his head, you recognized his tall silhouette immediately. Relief washed over you as he stepped out, hands tucked into his pockets to shield himself from the light drizzle.

With each step closer, his presence felt more palpable, his figure becoming clearer in the dim light. You couldn't help but feel a surge of emotions as he approached, a mix of apprehension and longing swirling within you.

As Rafe closed the distance between you, each step seemed to echo in the quiet night, emphasizing the tension that crackled in the air. His familiar silhouette emerged from the shadows, the hood of his jacket casting a shadow over his features. You could feel the intensity of his gaze even before his eyes met yours, a silent conversation already taking place.

When he finally reached you, his presence loomed over you, his height accentuated in the dim light. The subtle scent of rain mixed with his cologne lingered in the air, adding to the surreal atmosphere of the moment.

Standing mere inches apart, you found yourself lost in the depths of his gaze, a myriad of emotions swirling beneath the surface. With every beat of your heart, the anticipation grew, the unspoken words hanging between you like a delicate thread.

You gave him a weak smile, knowing what you were about to tell him was anything but good. Taking a deep breath, you continued, "Thanks for coming to meet with me, I know it's kind of late."

Rafe's expression softened slightly at your words, his gaze softening as he replied, "Of course, y/n. I'll always make time for you."

Feeling a surge of guilt wash over you, you looked down at your hands, fiddling with your necklace nervously before meeting his gaze once more. "Look, I don't know if this is going to make sense to you, but I felt awful if I didn't tell you, especially after what happened in the past," you started, your voice wavering slightly. "JJ came to me at the golf course after the whole incident with Topper, and he asked me to do something, for John B."

Rafe's brows furrowed in confusion, his expression shifting to one of concern. "What did he ask you to do?"

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat making it difficult to speak. "He… he asked me to spy on you again."

Rafe looked at you, his expression shifting from concern to confusion. "Spy on me? Again?" he repeated, disbelief evident in his voice.

You nodded, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on you. "Yeah… I know it's messed up," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "But JJ thinks it's the only way to find out what your dad's next move is."

Rafe ran a hand through his hair, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation or doubt. "And what did you tell him?" he asked, his voice strained with emotion.

You sighed, a solemn look on your face as you continued, "I told him I don't know if I can do it, because I… I can't hurt you like that again and it's not right. He's been mad at me ever since and wants me to 'think about it,' but I can't do it, Rafe. I… I can't make the same mistake twice, not to you." Your voice trembled with emotion as you spoke, each word a struggle as tears welled up in your eyes.

Rafe remained silent for a moment, his expression unreadable as he processed your words. Then, he reached out, gently wiping away a tear that had escaped down your cheek. "Hey," he said softly, his voice a comforting presence amidst the turmoil, "you don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with, especially if it means hurting yourself in the process."

You looked up at him, grateful for his understanding, but also feeling guilty for burdening him with your dilemma. "I just don't want to disappoint anyone," you admitted, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on you.

Rafe cupped your face in his hands, his gaze unwavering as he met your eyes. "You're not going to disappoint anyone by following your heart, y/n," he reassured you, his thumb brushing gently against your cheek. "And if JJ can't see that, then that's his problem, not yours."

His words were a balm to your troubled soul, offering you a sense of clarity and reassurance in the midst of uncertainty. You leaned into his touch, finding solace in his presence as the rain continued to fall around you, the sound of the ocean providing a soothing backdrop to your conversation.

Rafe looked up into the distance, sighing before he spoke, "If anything, I'm more pissed at the fact that JJ is still plotting against me and thinking I won't do anything about it."

You nodded in understanding, feeling a surge of frustration coursing through you at the thought of JJ's actions. "Yeah, I get that. But I also think JJ's just trying to protect John B, even if it means making some questionable decisions," you replied, your voice tinged with sympathy for your friend's predicament.

Rafe let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I know, I know," he muttered, his expression conflicted. "But it still doesn't sit right with me, you know? I thought we were past all this."

You nodded, unable to speak while your emotions were caught in your throat like a foreign body unable to be swallowed down. Your red, teary-eyes gazed back up at Rafe, trying to regain your composure while your mind tried to put together a cohesive sentence. But as if reading your mind, Rafe spoke up again.

"And thank you for not agreeing to do it. I know your friends mean a lot to you... and JJ," Rafe swallowed hard, his jaw clenching at the mere utterance of JJ's name, "I know that wasn't easy for you." His tonality was sincere but his expression remained almost stoic as if there was a war waging within his mind.

You remained silent for another moment, your eyes flickering back and forth between Rafe's azure optic hues as you wondered what was going on in his mind that cause his sudden change in demeanor, "What is it, Rafe?" you questioned.

"Nothing I," he hesitated for a brief second with his hand combing through his hair — an emphasis of his presumed trepidation, "I just hate the fact that they keep setting you up to spy on me s'all. I mean the first time was one thing, but to do it again? I don't get it." You sighed at his admission, feeling a wave of guilt wash over you knowing that you were partially to blame for being a part of the set up in the past.

"It's not necessarily you, it's your dad. He's been out to get John B since we left this island," you avoided Rafe's lingering gaze with your eyes glued to your feet, "and the reason why he ever was is the same reason I hated you when I got back here."

Rafe's body perked up at your comment, both intrigued and confused by your testament. You could tell he had no idea what you were referring to, which only made you feel more unnerved to bring up the topic figuring it was a touchy one for him. Surely he didn't think you knew about his secret, but at the same time, word gets around quickly.

"Rafe.. I know what you did." You blurted out without a second thought, wanting nothing more than to just rip the bandaid right off right then.

"Y/n, what are you talking about?" Rafe crossed his arms defensively with a cocked brow, looking at you as if you were the one who was acting crazy.

The next few words to come out of your mouth were painful, not only for you but for Rafe as well. They fired off like bullets that would leave a gaping wound with it's fragments engraved into anything that surrounded you. But you couldn't lie and hide the truth, you had already said too much to shy away.

"I know you killed Peterkin."

You announced the news rather recklessly and rushedly with your words barely hitting your tongue before they came out. What you said was true, at least to your knowledge, but it didn't make the situation any less uncomfortable and treacherous. You knew that by putting out there what you knew, it made everything all the more real, and it left a bitter taste in your mouth. You watched Rafe practically wince in response as he took in every single word you said. You still felt guilty nonetheless, but you had to confront him sooner or later.

"You don't know what you're talking about. Is this something else one of your Pogue friends lied to you about me?" Rafe spat, inching intimidatingly closer as he backed your against the wooden railing of the dock.

"It doesn't matter who told me.. why else would your dad be trying so hard to frame John B? I'm not stupid, Rafe."

"So what, are you scared of me now? Do you think I'm some kind of monster like the rest of them do? Are you gonna run away like you did two years ago?!" He expectorated right in your face, so close you could practically feel the anger coming out of him like a smoking gun. It was a side of Rafe you had never seen before, even after he found out about your ploy against him, you still saw a glimpse of humanity in him. But this time was different. He looked like he was full of nothing but spite and betrayal, even a hint of humility. What did it mean to him for you to know his darkest secret, even when he wouldn't flat out admit it was true?

"When I found out I was," you blinked, your voice betraying you by the dryness in your throat, "I resented you a lot because what you did put my friend in a terrible situation. He had to go into hiding and so did I." Rafe watched you intently as you spoke, each word given a second thought before coming out of your mouth in fear of setting off a ticking time bomb that was building within Rafe.

"But then I saw you for the first time in two years and every ounce of logic I had just kind of left. Call me crazy I guess," you shrugged with a glimpse of shame displayed in your body language and the averse look on your face that was evident to Rafe. You could see clearly that he was at a loss for words, unsure of what the right response was to the revelations you laid out before him. He gaped at you as if he wasn't entirely sure that you were real in a way that made your cheeks feel hot and flushed, small underneath his menacing stature.

Time seemed to stand still for a moment, torn between remaining in an uncomfortable silence that was louder than any words could say, or letting yourself do damage control and simply hope that Rafe would disregard everything your just poured into him shamelessly. You felt like an idiot the longer it took him to respond and merely just gaze down at you. It felt rather daunting with the uncertainty of if he thought you were insane or understood every word you meant.

But just as the silence began to weave a lump in your throat that nearly suffocated you, a sudden force nearly knocked you a few inches back from where you stood, your lips suddenly being greeted with a pair of soft ones that moved against yours with ease. Butterflies erupted in the pit of your stomach once you had came back to reality and realized it was Rafe kissing you, passionately at that.

His hands snaked down your waist and behind your back, just before the would holster you up against the dock railings. You could feel electricity fire off inside your body once you heard Rafe groan against your lips, his hands eager to touch every inch of you as they aimlessly rubbed and gripped up and down your hips, thighs, and chest. As though it were instinct, you wrapped your legs around his waist with an eagerness to feel his body pressed closer to yours. Both of you were practically feral, bodies grinding against one another as you both silently pleaded for more.

"You're not crazy," Rafe breathlessly spoke as he tore away from your lips to stare back at you as he grabbed your face with sincerity, "you're perfect. So, so perfect." He mumbled as he kissed down your neck swiftly, making your thighs clench together tightly.

"I don't give a fuck what any of those Pogues say," Rafe moaned against your skin while his hands inched up your thigh, "you're mine. And I don't give a fuck what I have to do to let them know it."

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[iheartgirlzn]

I THINK SOMEONES SAID THIS BEFORE BUT!! IMAGINE THE (GREEK) GODS CHILDREN ARE CURSED BY THE STYX. HEAR ME OUT.

obviously, zeus + poseidon + hades all swore on the styx to have no more kids… but they did. and i was thinking what if their kids are cursed because of it (because obvi the gods are gods so they won’t be effected).

SO:

thalia grace, daughter of the god of the skies → has a fear of heights

percy jackson, son of the god of the sea → has a fear of drowning

nico di angelo, son of the god of the underworld (where it’s basically always night) → has a fear of the dark

ANYWAYS I WAS THEN ALSO THINKING ABOUT THEIR ROMAN COUNTERPARTS AND THEIR KIDS!

are jason and hazel cursed too? obviously jupiter + neptune + pluto didn’t swear that they’d stop having kids so does it count for them as well? BECAUSE

jason grace, son of the god of the gods → has a fear of leadership and making important choices / he’s indecisive (or something like that.)

hazel levesque, daughter of the god of underworld (where the river lethe is, which is related to memories) → has a fear of her past