#the eye opening thing in teaching was discovering that the hard part was not the kids

[delicatelystrangepolice]

This is so interesting to me because I think I discovered a personal trauma I never fully realized. From all the PE classes when you would be stuck on benches because you weren't good enough to win the match, through all the art classes when your work wouldn't be displayed because it's 'ugly', down to language classes when your writing is either praised or talked down to shit depending on the teacher's personal taste. I feel like in my youth I always got the message: why do something if you aren't good at it?

I was an average kid who could be doing anything, really. I was actually very physically active and athletic when left to my own devices. I loved writing and loved creating art. I was just not talented enough to ever be encouraged and those hobbies fizzled away eventually because I was told to do only the things that could be profitable in the future.

Getting on the internet later showed me: oh so other people do not live like this? People are doing stuff they actually enjoy for the thing? HOW DID I NEVER KNOW THAT??

Not so long I saw a video of a lady who dances ballet. She was not very good at this, she could only some basic moves and it literally opened a new box in my head, because THE FREAKING BALLET? The most demanding and physically perfect type of dance?! AND YOU COULD JUST DO IT BECAUSE YOU ENJOY IT?? Holy shit, that's a new information.

Nowadays I try to correct this both in myself and in the kids I'm teaching. I hate the grading system in general but especially in things that are just there to encourage development. Not everybody has to be the greatest painter or writer. Nobody has to have all the knowledge in the world. It's really enough if people will stay curious and encouraged enough to keep going. It will literally make the world a better place, I believe.

You’ve heard of “don’t monetize your hobbies”; get ready for "don’t master your hobbies".

Your hobbies are here to help you decompress and have fun. They do not have to be disciplines you toil over for expertise, unless that is something you genuinely enjoy doing.

It’s okay to enjoy language-learning without ever becoming fluent, or even conversational. It’s okay to like playing guitar even if you only know a few clumsy songs. You can read books and never finish them, bowl without ever scoring even halfway to perfect. We’re here to explore and play, and we cannot do that if we’re chasing perfection in everything we do.

[samsno1]

Flowers

Castiel x GN!Reader

i love his eyes. that's it, that's the tweet. guys...this is very sweet but i don't know if i'm satisfied?? tell me what you think, writing castiel is very hard, lawd

Summary: In a hunt, a flower appears over your pillow after you come back to the motel room at night. Who left it there?

Warnings: FLUFF, TOOTH-ROTTING FLUFF, i pictured s4/5 cas in this, use of y/n, sweet confession, NOT PROOF READ, that's it? english isn't my first language

WC: 2.5k

You can learn how to change Y/N for your actual name here

enjoy!

When you started hunting with Sam and Dean one of the last things you expected to encounter was an Angel, especially after discovering they aren't “harps and halos" like in the books you read as a kid, but instead soldiers and sometimes assholes.

Castiel was an exception to the “asshole” part, he was actually very sweet when it came to you and the boys. Helped you, saved you and cared for you. In that sense, Cas was just like the Angel stories, a guardian of the humans he was in charge of.

And for you, it was fun teaching Cas about humans and how they behaved, helped him when he didn't understand Dean's pop culture references, got him to watch classic movies and listen to music and he was always very keen into doing so, curious and intrigued in what you explained to him.

Those big blue eyes always gave you his full attention, sometimes with that little frown that you started to call “The Angel Frown” while he questioned you about something that, to you, was basic knowledge. You were always as patient as possible with him, always clarifying what you could in words he could understand and that ended up always making him come to you for help.

In conclusion, you and Cas got closer and you started to catch yourself staring when he wasn't looking, admiring his smiles, drowning into his sapphire eyes and wishing that he had just more doubts about how people acted so you could spend more time with him.

You knew, from what Castiel told you, that Angels and feelings, human feelings at least, weren't compatible and that things such as love and romance weren't truly a reality for him and his siblings, they were warriors after all, created to serve their Father and that was it. 

Even when Castiel rebelled for the Winchesters, letting go of the “I don't serve men” mindset was difficult but you, Dean and Sam were there for him. You were more understandable then the brothers because you knew Cas was trying his best.

And because you fell for the Angel, but nobody needed to know that.

One night you arrived at the motel room you were staying at, after waving goodnight to Sam and Dean, them going to their separate room.

You opened the door and sighed deeply in exhaustion. It had been a long day of questioning and more questions appearing then those answered. At first you guys thought of a vengeful spirit, then cursed object, then witch. All of those possibilities were still up and it was driving you three insane. People were dying and you felt useless.

Once you closed the door and threw your stuff in the closest table you turned to your bed, where your bag was placed to get some clothes to take a well deserved shower. But, when you looked at your pillow, you noticed a single pink flower sitting over it and you furrowed your eyebrows.

You approached the flower slowly, skeptical about it, your hunter instincts telling you this wasn't good news. You slowly reached for it, as if it could bite your hand off, and picked it up. You analyzed the plant, very confused and grabbed your laptop.

You searched until you found a flower similar to the one you were holding and learned it was a Camellia. You looked between the screen and the flower and you searched up what a pink Camellia meant because, as much as you knew, flowers weren't really something you looked into.

What you found was shocking. According to the internet, a pink Camellia represents admiration and appreciation and Camellias and general represent love and affection. You widen your eyes at the flower in your hands, looking around your empty room as if someone would pop up and explain what this was doing at your bed. Wrong room?

You couldn't think of anybody that could give you this willingly. It definitely wasn't Sam or Dean because, first, they spent the whole day by your side and, second, unless they meant it platonically, the boys didn't see you like that. You loved them and they loved you, of course, but, to them, you were like a sister Dean loves you like he loves Sam, the same way Sam loves you like he loves Dean and vice-versa.

The only person that came to your mind was…No, it couldn't be, he said himself, love for him was basically unachievable but you couldn't help but wonder, even if your rational brain said it was stupid to think Cas would mean that. You smiled at the flower, that tinge of hope lightning inside you.

You looked around the room to look for something you could fill up with water and found an empty beer bottle. That'll do.

You washed the bottle to get the smell of alcohol off and filled it up with water, placing the little flower inside.

The pink color of the petals clashed with the transparent green of the bottle and you smiled at that. It looked cute in a way. You thought, even if this didn't come from someone you knew, you were keeping it, at least the flower.

You left the makeshift vase in your nightstand and took your stuff to the shower, peeling off your suit and your tie on the way, leaving it on the ground as you locked yourself inside the bathroom.

In these moments, Cas thanked his abilities of becoming unseen because you arrived just as he was leaving the Camellia over your pillow. He spent the day researching flowers, finding an interest in how humans always gave them to the people they cared about or to the ones who passed. He wanted to give you one to show you that he cared for you and also as a thank you for being patient with him for a long time.

He always felt happier around you, a warm feeling inside him always seemed to bloom. He felt the need to be close to you, like you were a human magnet. Everytime you looked at him he felt a weird feeling in his stomach, your smile was always something he felt the need to chase, he wanted to see it always in your face. He admired the way your eyes would shine when you were talking about something you liked.

When he saw you placing the flower on the nightstand with a smile he felt that weird feeling in his stomach again. He would do anything to see that look on your face again.

That hunt lasted a week, taking you three too long to figure out it was a witch and even longer to find said witch and to say you guys were fed up was an understatement. 

For that long week you dared to say you missed the Angel, you thought about calling him, praying to him, multiple times but what were you going to say when he arrived? Missed you? I just wanted to see you?

Everything you thought sounded too intimate so you discarded the idea of calling him.

But two more flowers appeared on your pillow after that pink Camellia. A Peony that you learned meant for the Chinese something along the lines of “the most beautiful” and a stunning Carnation in a light red shade that represented admiration. At this point you were very intrigued about who was the one giving you the flowers, Castiel still on your mind. You didn't want to get your hopes too high, you were probably overthinking it anyways, making your heart speak louder than your brain.

You were lying on your bed, staring at the tiny bouquet of three flowers given piece by piece to you. It was your last night in that room, Dean having insisted he needed the sleep so as to not crash the Impala from tiredness. You had offered to drive as you weren't as bad as he was but, of course, that was an immediate no from the older brother so all of you settled for one more night.

As you close your eyes and start to fall asleep, a sudden flutter of wings gets your attention. It's dark in the room so you take a peek and for sure it's Cas. You hold back a smile and close your eyes, pretending to be sleeping.

You feel the Angel approaching the bed, his presence making your heart quicken in your chest. From what it sounds like, he's just standing, watching you and you start to feel very nervous.

Castiel on the other hand arrived to see your sleeping form and couldn't help but watch. You looked peaceful, your breathing was calm and you looked…pretty. Cas thought all his father's creations were wonderful but he felt like you could top them all, literally, in your sleep.

He had another little flower in his hand which, to him, had a very self-explanatory name, a Forget-Me-Not.

He spun the blue flower on his fingers, debating if he should leave it inside the vase or besides you, over your pillow. 

He approached you and while he was placing the flower next to your head he felt a gentle hand wrap around his wrist and instantly froze on the spot.

You opened your eyes and looked at his near-horrified face. You smiled at him.

“Got you” You said, a little above a whisper and looked at the flower he was holding. That one you knew the name and what it meant and you felt warmth spreading through your cheeks, not just at that one flower, but knowing now that all those flowers you received came from Cas.

“I'm sorry for disturbing you” He said as he retreated his hand and you held the Forget-Me-Not. He was tense, not looking at you.

“So you were the secret admirer leaving me these flowers?” You asked as you slowly sat up on the bed and placed the blue flower inside the bottle with the three others. You placed both your hands over your lap, fidgeting nervously with your fingers. “Why?”

He looked around. What was he supposed to say? Himself barely knew why he was doing this but it felt right so he kept going with it. He noticed that the flower meanings resembled things that he felt or thought of you and he enjoyed collecting them for you, especially after you kept them.

“These flowers all have a meaning behind them” He started “Take them as a thank you for…being helpful with my understanding of human behaviors” 

You smiled stupidly at that. The way he said it sounded like something he had rehearsed before coming to you to say it, the words too polite. But yet, that's one of the things you liked about him.

“You didn't have to Cas…They are beautiful, thank you” You said and looked at the flowers again, biting your lip. You felt his eyes on you, it was always intimidating. You knew that it was just the way he was, look right into your eyes while you talk to show you had his full attention, his beautiful blue orbs hypnotizing.

Cas analyzed every aspect of yours as you sat in front of him, his eyes wondering over your figure and his hands moved faster than his thoughts and he reached for your shoulder, his palm traveling from your shoulder blade to the end of your upper arm and back up, tracing a pattern over your skin. He longed to touch you and be closer to you in a way he couldn’t explain so, in this moment, you both alone, he decided to fulfill this wish.

You widened your eyes and looked up at Castiel who was entranced by the movement of his hand, goosebumps flaring up on your skin.

“Cas?” You said and acknowledged your call with a hum “What are you…?”

He finally looked at you, his hand steadied on your shoulder.

“When I’m around you I always feel this need to touch you, be closer and this…” He shakes his head, finding a word to define how he felt. “Warmth comes over me everytime you smile”

His eyes bore through yours and you could only stare back at him, shocked.

“Cas, you’re saying–”

“I think I might love you, Y/N” He interrupted. The way he said it sounded like a confusion, a slight approach, as if he was tiptoeing around the thought, not sure if he wanted to grasp it or just keep his distance.

You were dumbfounded. He sounded so sincere and your heart started to beat faster, his hand over your shoulder felt like it was burning through your skin. It all made sense, the flowers, the way he was always keen on talking to you even when you did most of the talking and he just listened with a faint smile and pure interest, he just didn’t know because he never felt like this before, he didn’t know what loving was like.

You landed a hand over his cheek, your eyes practically watering with an emotional overload at his words. You thumb rubbed the light stubble on his cheek and you pulled him in for a hug. You wanted to kiss him so bad but you were on a baby steps basis with the Angel.

You hugged him tightly, his hands hesitantly wrapping around your frame as you let out a deep breath. When you pulled back, you didn’t pull away completely from him looking between his eyes and his mouth, a giddy smile on your face.

“I think I might love you too Castiel” You said and he widened his own eyes, a light chuckle coming out of you at his reaction.

Your chuckles were cut off by his lips on yours and you gasped in surprise. His mouth was as soft as you expected, his lips moving against your in perfect sync. He was impressively a good kisser, one of his hands gently holding at the back of your neck while the other slid down to your waist.

You felt like a bomb had exploded inside you, a foreign feeling of happiness spreading to every single cell on your body as your arms wrapped around his neck to hold yourself when he sat on the bed, pulling you over his lap, making you yelp.

You both pulled away, your arms still wrapped around each other and he had a light smile on his face. You one hundred per cent had a shocked look on yours, your cheeks hot and breathing heavy.

“Where’d you learn that?” You asked, absolutely knocked by the kiss.

“Dean told me a thing or two” He said and you couldn’t help but laugh, your body shaking against his as he also chuckled. “It seems like I did great?”

You stopped your laughs and looked in his eyes, drowning in their ocean blue. You gave a peck to the corner of his mouth.

“You did amazing” You said as one of your hands played with the hair at the nape of his neck and he pulled you in, the warmth spreading through both of you yet again, never wanting to let go.

A/N: Notes and reblogs encourage me to keep writing, feedback helps me make those writing better. Thank you for reading, XoXo.

[jpitha]

They’ll eat what?

A Telmurian is walking around the promenade on the station, talking to their family on their pad.

What was that? Your signal is pretty weak. Oh! Yes, they have humans here.

I know. Their planet has a really big moon, they won’t stop telling everyone they meet. Yes, they told me about it at least three times. I saw the photos, it’s pretty big I guess.

Yes, they’re strong. I remember the time that human from the helm picked up two Sefigans and carried them around on his arms. I didn’t tell her, but I was impressed. Why didn’t I tell her? I don’t know.

They also have odd thought processes. Remember that story about the one that learned that the water filters were the same as the outer compensator on the FlashWarp drive? They still teach us to check other parts for commonalities like that. The Sefigans are building a whole reference of parts that can be exchanged for other parts.

They walk around, oblivious to everyone else on the promenade. A Gren glares at them, and clacks their mouthparts irritatedly. They are speaking loudly. They walk on, oblivious to the disruption they are causing.

I didn’t call you to talk about any of that stuff.

I just learned about their ‘food.’

Did you know they don’t have a specific food? They don’t have one or two or even three items that they consider food, they have hundreds.

Maybe even thousands.

They stop and stare out a window and are silent for a few moments.

Not only that, but they combine them in so many different ways. Even wilder, they have modifiers to their food. Can you believe it? They have things that aren’t technically food that they add to food to make it ‘taste’ different. They’re called spices or seasonings.

I know! Have you ever heard of such a thing?

They have this thing called ‘taste.’ It’s a whole sense for them! It’s what enables them to try and test foods and discover ones they like and reject ones they don’t like.

I have a hard time with it, to be honest. Imagine, food you don’t like. It’s food right? By its very definition it’s something you consume to survive.

They clack their wing covers together, like a sigh. A Sefigan sitting at a cafe near them makes a gesture, like they’re trying to shoo them away.

Not for the humans I guess. They have whole careers, whole philosophies, maybe even whole religions about food and its preperation.

I read about the first time some humans came onboard a Coalition ship. They asked where the kitchen was and when we said “the what” it was like you unplugged them. They just stood there with their mouths full of their scary sharp teeth open in surprise.

I imagine we had a similar face the first time they showed us a kitchen. Imagine, a whole room, a whole part of the ship that was turned over to their pursuit of food.

That’s another thing! They can get bored of food. Whoever heard of such a thing. It’s food! You eat it, you feel full, you continue with your day. That’s like… like being bored of breathing.

Have I tried any of it? I mean, so much of it is straight up poisonous to us. No, you’re right, some of it isn’t.

All right fine. Yes. I tried one. There was this one, it was something they called a cookie. It was made of something like ten ingredients all in very precise measurements, then mixed together and shaped into balls and cooked at a high temperature. How did they ever come up with that?

The cookie? I don’t know, it was fine I guess. I didn’t get sick. I guess I can’t taste like they can it wasn’t much of anything, just food. I didn’t want to hurt their feelings so I said I liked it. They gave me four more! I didn’t know what to do with them. They’re still in my room.

Okay, yes, I love you too. Tell the rest of the crèche I said good evening.

They disconnect the call and look up. There’s a group of humans sitting down at a human style cafe eating. One of them looks up at them. Their large wet eyes seem impossibly deep. In the corner of them, wetness wells.

“You didn’t like the cookies?”

[inkskinned]

i'm used to it, and how bad it is, and how often it's so bad that it rings like a bell inside of me, drowning out everything around me. and the truth is that i get frustrated with myself about it - again? we're like this still? again? it's not that i feel weak, precisely. it's just this sense almost like - i've already been pushing against this thing for years now, shouldn't i have gained more ground?

i get frustrated because i'm sick of picking up the loose ends every six months. i get frustrated because it's always this same shit, same problem - i lose myself in a matter of months; spiral out of control, lose touch with friends and loved ones. i stop taking care of myself and therapy gets hard and i let everything around me wilt and shrivel and fall off; start somehow both sleeping too much and not-enough. i panic-attack and cry in my car in a target parking lot, pulling my hair out and hurting my ribs from sobbing so hard - and later, when i'm better, i'm embarrassed because how could i let it get that far?

it feels like - i already have done this so many times. isn't there a way out of it? isn't there a point where i've just... won? that it never happens again, that i just get to be done? maybe this is weakness, i guess - that i still (so often!) succumb.

i am used to it, so i forget exactly how hard it gets. do you even know how many times i've laid in bed, exhausted, blank and numb and listless and said - i can't anymore. i just can't. i'm not even really upset. it's okay. i've been here long enough. so much of my life was beautiful.... i'm just... done.

do you know how many times i woke up and i said - i can't and put my feet on the floor and said i can't, i don't want to and took a shower and walked the dog and bought myself fresh bread and put a nice playlist on and said i really can't, there's no end to this and i went to work and i called a friend and i made myself cookies even if food tasted like ashes and decided that i really should wait for the new album from that artist i love and i thought i can't, it's not worth it and then i washed my hands and cut my hair and drank more water and wrote a poem and signed up for an art class at the local community college and said i can't, i can't, i won't do this again, and i paid my rent and let the dishes rot in the sink but still made myself eat anything fresh even if it meant overdrawing my account on a stupid bag of plums just because they looked delicious and do you know how often i closed my eyes and thought this is it i really fucking can't, something has to give and i have nothing left that it can take and then i went to bed and i got up and i fucking survived anyway

yesterday the local ice cream place opened up for the first time this season and they were giving out tiny samples of their new dairy-free options and i tried a mango sorbet. three months ago i was positive that februrary was going to be my last month on the planet. i am teaching my dog a new trick and i just discovered a new band i love. i got a plant from the clearance aisle and repotted her and she's been perking up. i made salmon for alison and we ate it in her new house with her new beautiful baby girl. my manager told me he keeps recommending my work to others just because i always include a stupid number of puns. tomorrow i'm trying a new dance class. tomorrow i'm maybe going to buy more plums.

i forget, you know? it's not some bone-deep strength or some magical power. it's that some part of me knows - i need to stay. in all of this; out of all of this - i just want to choose love.

[lowkeyremi]

Haikyuu men as fathers pt. 5

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Ft. Ushijima, Kita, Kyotani and Asahi

Note: The age range of the kids will differ for each character but it’s from babies up til like 17 or 18. Bringing this series back for someone who requested Kita :3 @warriordemigosworld

content: Indication of pregnancy, relationships, marriage, certain styles of parenting, etc

Ushijima Wakatoshi

When you arrive home you're met with the sight of both your husband and your baby girl knocked out on the couch. Her little head is resting upon his chest, her small hand curled up in a fist too.

You can see the drool on his shirt from her little lips. She's just so tiny and he's so big. Whenever you'd post them on your social media the first thing people comment on is the size difference. They always talk about how soft and gentle he is with his baby girl for such a big man.

Wakatoshi seems to notice your staring because his olive eyes open looking around for a second before they meet yours.

"Looks like you two had a good time." A smirk graces your lips. He chuckles quietly, rubbing her back when she starts to stir awake.

"She wanted to play animals so I dressed up as a tiger for her. She insisted that she should paint my face to make me look the part." Oh. So that's why his face is orange with smears of black on it.

"I'm guessing she was a baby tiger?" Your little girl's face was also colored in orange and black face paint.

"Precisely." Wakatoshi watches as you pull out your phone and snap a few pics.

"I'm sure Grandma and Papa would want to see what you two were up to today." He nods, a small smile gracing his face.

Wakatoshi is the kind of parent to let his child experience little moments that make them happy

He doesn't limit their imagination as his mother tried too when he was younger because of his left-handedness

GENTLE GIANTTTTTTT

He doesn't enjoy singing but he will hum his baby to sleep

When his baby was little he would always have her sleep on his chest which is why she's so used to it (i love his chest....)

all in all ushi is such a good dad

Kita Shinsuke

You were watching as Shinsuke and your little boy were out in the rice fields. There were two cold glasses of water waiting for them when they came back.

They had matching hats and overalls; the whole thing. Shinsuke insisted his six year old should be interested in little boy stuff like playing and discovering the world, but your little boy wanted to help his daddy out in the fields.

So of course, Shinsuke would show him how to do basic things around the rice fields. He made his son a mini bag of rice to carry since the normal bags are way too heavy for a six year old.

Little giggles escape your lips watching the two of them haul the bags of rice toward his truck.

"Are you helping daddy out?" You ask recording him.

"Yep! I'm almost as strong as daddy is!" To prove his point he flexes his little muscles.

"Oh wow!! You are super strong." Shinsuke chuckles too. He's sweating up a storm, wiping his forehead every few minutes.

"Do my two favorite boys want to come take a water break?" Your husband is grateful for your observation skills, he could use some water.

Your son looks to his father waiting to see what he says. The little boy admires his father with his life.

"Yeah let's get some water, bud." Shinsuke scoops up his son causing the little boy much joy.

Kita is very stern with his kids, he likes order (which is why they have so much respect for him)

Almost never breaks the rules like if there's not supposed to be any sweets before bed he'll listen to the rules even if his kids beg and beg

He teaches them to be honest hard working children (just like how he was when he used to help his grandma clean)

There are fun days too, he'll take them to amusement parks and such.. only for good behavior though

lmaoo I think he looks a little scary to other kids, so when he's chaperoning at field trips and stuff none of the kids (even the most mischievous ones) dare to act up

he's always taking his kiddos to onigiri miya because they always talk about how much they "love their uncle samu's food!!"

if they show any interest in volleyball he takes them to see the red falcons (aran) or the black jackals (atsumu) they always think it's the coolest thing ever

Kyotani Kentaro

The screaming match going on downstairs didn't concern you in the slightest.

Your husband and your daughters do this at least once a day, which is why you're still laying in bed minding your own business.

"IF YOU DON'T DO YOUR PROJECT YOU'LL FAIL!" Kentaro yelled at his ten year old daughter. She was; in your opinion a carbon copy of her father.

"I DON'T WANT TO!!! IT'S BORING-UHHHHHH." She drags out the last syllable, causing a giggle to leave your lips.

"WELL LET'S GO SEE WHAT YOUR MOM HAS TO SAY ABOUT IT." You pretend to sleep as the three of them stomp up the stairs to see what you have to say.

"[name], your child won't-" when he notices that you're "sleeping" he shushes his children and walks them out of the room.

You hear a mumbled, "Will you do it if I help you?"

The older daughter of yours agrees with her father's suggestion. The younger one has no clue what's going on but she wants to be included too. So, she also hums in agreement.

He communicates his love through snarky comments and eye rolls

Doesn't find them annoying, just could use a break sometimes

He thought being a dad would be a piece of cake.. imagine his surprise when he changes his first poopy diaper

Scary dog privileges still apply; no one dares to look at his kids wrong, much less try to hurt them

He girls think it's funny that he's "bald"

Will NEVER admit it but he is a girl dad

Azumane Asahi

"I think I'm gonna be sick, babe, what if we don't find him?" Asahi asks tugging in your shirt sleeve. This isn't your best parenting moment; your little boy is lost somewhere inside this huge Costco. Your son who's eight insisted he'd go grocery shopping with you even though he was probably gonna complain after ten minutes about his legs hurting.

Of course your husband wanted to tag along. He enjoys family bonding and he saw this grocery trip as an opportunity to execute it. The two of you had gotten so caught up in conversation that you didn't even realize your son went missing for maybe four or five minutes? You hope it was only that long.

"Ren! Where are you honey?!" You yell out, not too loud so it's not fairly obvious of your failure as a parent but loud enough that he could hear you and follow the sound of your voice.

To make matters worse he has his nintendo switch that his eyes are probably glued to.

"Oh baby, what.. what if someone takes him?" Asahi's voice sounds horrified. Little seeds of insecurity make their way into your brain, but you must keep strong because your husband is absolutely losing his shit.

"Management on aisle twenty-seven, we have a child climbing the racks." You two give each other a knowing look. That sounds 100% like something your son would do.

"You stay here with the basket, I'll go get him." Asahi says leaving no room for argument when he runs off to get his child.

Within a few minutes he returns with Ren. Asahi's confused by the way you giggle, but you find it cute how his man bun was undone, most likely from running fast.

"Man, I haven't ran that fast since high scho-"

"Dad you need to work out more!!" Naive little Ren says, causing his father to sigh loudly with a cheeky smile.

"And you," you say pointing to the little boy in question, "need to stay where mom and dad can see you. Are we clear?"

He nods in a respectful manner.

"Now let's finish shopping.. as a family."

[dirtytomatoedwrites]

Preludes and Nocturnes - Part 1

Paring: Rafe Cameron x InnocentPogue!reader

Summary: Rafe discovers your hidden talent and now he has seen it, you have his full attention.

Warnings:  18+ Smut. Dark!Rafe. Virgin!Reader, Romance, Angst, Dub-Con, Fingering, squirting.  Not Proof-Read so mistakes are my own.

Word Count: 9k words (Yo it took me months to write but I finally did it) 

Author Note: Hello lovelies! So this is an original idea I’ve had for a while now... and this is the longest fanfic I’ve ever written for a character. Who did I write this tale about Rafe motherfucking Cameron of course. HA!  I may do a part 2 but we’ll see based on the response it gets.  Love you all and thanks for reading and listening - there’s music in there too so if you can listen to the tracks as you read it’ll heighten the experience. 🫶 Enjoy!

Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Please don’t steal or copy bits of my writing or any writing from other writers cause karma will get ya.  

Rose, elegant and poised as ever, fiddled with Ward's bowtie. It was a futile attempt to straighten it, and you wondered if the Kooks knew how ridiculous they looked, their privileged lives spent fussing over trivial things.

"Do you play?" Ward's voice was casual, but his eyes betrayed a glimmer of interest. He had seen you eyeing the piano in their opulent living room before, and it was clear he suspected you had a musical inclination.

"A little," you replied, shrugging nonchalantly. You didn't want to give too much away. The Kooks had a tendency to pry, and you had learned the hard way that it was better to keep your guard up.

The Camerons were pleasant enough, but like the other Kooks on Figure Eight, they didn't really care about the Pogues. You had grown up being told that Pogues were different from Kooks, but as you got older, you realized it was more complicated than that. The Kooks were narrow-minded, lacking empathy and understanding. They saw the Pogues as nothing more than servants, there to cater to their every whim. It was a toxic dynamic and one that you had learned to navigate with caution.

The key to survival on the Outer Banks was invisibility. You had learned that early on. The less you revealed about yourself, the safer you were. So you didn't tell Ward that your father had started teaching you piano before you could even walk. You didn't tell him that music was your escape, your solace, your everything.

"Well, a bit of something is better than nothing," Ward chuckled, his eyes flickering back to you. "I bought it thinking it would be nice to have music in the house that wasn't rap or pop, but you know how kids are." He chuckled again. "No one seems interested in learning how to play it. If you want to try it out, our door is always open."

The Kooks were the quintessential chameleons, expertly donning the cloak of benevolence and charity. But behind the facade lay their self-centered motives, concealed in plain sight. In their company, you had to be just as duplicitous as them, your true self lost in a sea of artifice. So you donned your own mask of deceit, feigning a grin while burying your true feelings behind a veneer of politeness.

As the grandfather clock in the hallway struck six, Rose and Mr. Cameron stepped into the warm North Carolina evening, dressed to the nines for their elegant black-tie affair. You were left behind in the kitchen with Wheezie, chatting aimlessly about everything and nothing. A comfortable silence settled between you.

"Want to watch a movie, Wheezie?" you asked, but you already knew the answer.

"Maybe next time? I'm having a Stranger Things watch party with my friends. We're on season three, actually," she replied as she pulled out her phone and began texting.

"Oh, that's cool. Sure, let me know when you're hungry and we'll order in."

A few minutes later, you were left alone in the kitchen, grappling with the void of the next five hours stretching before you. Your gaze was inexorably drawn to the open double doors of the living room, and a force beyond your control tugged at your heartstrings.

There, in the corner of the Camerons' living room, stood a magnificent black Steinway & Sons piano. A work of art that you had only seen in fleeting glimpses on the internet, played by virtuosos with mastery beyond compare.

The Camerons' piano was an exquisite piece. Valued upwards of forty thousand dollars, it was a show-stopper that begged to be played in a prestigious concert hall. And yet there it sat in their living room, untouched and unloved.

With a fluttering heart, you approached the baby grand piano, drawn by an unconscious force beyond your control. As you lifted the fallboard, a heady scent of wax and mahogany wafted into your nostrils, creating a longing you could barely contain. Your fingertips brushed against the smooth, pristine ivory keys, unable to resist the urge to touch. As you pressed down on one, a crystalline note filled the air, flawless and true. Before you could even think, you were seated on the bench.

Back straight and feet planted firmly on the floor, you thought about all the classical pieces you had practiced over the years and loved to play. How each piece would sound hollow on your cheap, antiquated piano in your small family home. Music was your first love, and you longed for the day to play on stage accompanied by the New York Symphony Orchestra.

Closing your eyes, you allowed your mind to wander, imagining a sea of faces, a packed audience hanging on your every note. In your mind's eye, you saw your dad sitting in the front row, his gaze filled with pride and love. The thought of his reaction, a validation of all his sacrifices over the years, filled you with purpose.

Driven by your distant dream, you let your fingers glide across the keys, effortlessly weaving a tapestry of sound that flooded the Camerons' living room with music.

With meticulous attention, you listened closely to the dynamics of the piece. You noticed the way the Steinway amplified the subtlest variations in volume, imbuing the composition with a melancholic mood. Your fingers moved with practiced ease, executing intricate runs and arpeggios with fluid grace.

Enraptured by the music, you let the notes wash over you. Every facial expression was a reflection of the emotional journey unfolding before you. As the piece reached its crescendo, your fingers moved faster, striking the keys with greater force, a physical manifestation of your emotions. Your hands flowed in flawless harmony with the rhythm, pouring your soul into the music. And with the final notes, you laughed breathlessly, basking in the afterglow of your musical outpouring.

But your blissful moment was cruelly interrupted as you suddenly sensed you weren’t alone. Your eyes snapped open, and a cold wave of fear washed over you.

“Shit! I am so sorry,” you stammered, your voice trailing off in a rush of apologies as you gingerly lowered the piano fallboard.

“You know,” Rafe’s words were laced with honey, each syllable slow and sweet, yet there was no mistaking the menacing undertone to them. “We don’t take kindly to people touching our things,” he drawled, his intense gaze locked onto yours, a warning glimmer lurking within his dark eyes.

“I… I had permission from your dad,” you insisted, your words barely audible above a whisper as you tried to defend your actions.

His response was a dismissive chuckle. The atmosphere was taut with tension as he nonchalantly propped his golf bag against the wall. Leisurely slow, he sauntered over to you, his hands casually tucked away in his pockets.

“What were you playing anyway?” he inquired, his tone deceptively relaxed.

“You mean the name of the piece?” you swallowed hard, fear palpable. “It’s called Nocturne in C-sharp Minor.”

The tall blonde squinted at you, and you could not decipher his expression. Wanting to avoid further irritation, you slowly rose from the piano bench and dusted it off.

“What kinda name is that?”

“I… I…” you stammered, blood surging in your ears from fear as Rafe suddenly leaned in and lifted the fallboard. He scanned the keys, perhaps checking for any scratches. You took a deep breath. The scent of his expensive cologne and freshly mown grass overwhelmed your senses.

“I don’t know. It worked for Chopin, I guess.” You said quietly.

“Chopin…” he said with his lip jutted.

“He’s the composer. He wrote it and-”

“I know Chopin,” Rafe interrupted, his eyes suddenly locked on you. Up close, you could not deny that they were a striking shade of blue, if not for the death glare he gave you. “Chopin, Beethoven, Einaudi, Bach…” He backed away and sat in a nearby chair. “Brahms… I’ve been to enough of those long-ass concerts to at least know their names.”

You felt a confusing mix of awe and jealousy as you listened to Rafe’s words. The pit in your stomach proved this. You had never been to a proper symphony concert, and the school concerts you had attended were barely amateur. The thought of your dad’s broken promise to take you to one was a constant source of frustration. However, Rafe’s casual disdain for the very concerts he was lucky enough to attend seemed to be a new addition.

“Well… I’m not getting paid to mess around on your piano,” you said with a wry smile, as you tried to mask your emotions.

“You’re right. You’re not,” Rafe retorted while he twisted the gold signet ring around his index finger with his thumb. Head tilted to the side, his eyes raked over every inch of you, from your hair, your oversized sweatshirt and jeans to your worn knockoff Converses. You felt self-conscious under his intense scrutiny. He made you want to crawl into a hole and hide.

“I… I should check on Wheezie,” you whispered, eager to escape the tension in the room.

“Why?” Rafe asked, halting his twirling of the signet ring. His face appeared bemused until a sly grin tugged at his lips. “Weeze is a big girl, right? Might as well… play Chopin while she’s doing her own thing…”

As you babysat for the Camerons, you occasionally spotted Rafe in the vicinity. Sometimes, he was accompanied by a striking beauty, while other times he hung out with his friends. Even when he was alone, his body language was a clear warning: "Keep your distance." His piercing gaze made you feel diminutive and unimportant, as if any attempts at interaction would be met with cold indifference. In his presence, you felt like you were navigating hostile terrain, just a misstep away from a precarious situation.

"Well?" he said, leaning back in his chair and tapping his lower lip with a finger. The gesture seemed to carry a message, but what message you weren't sure. What was certain was that his expression of amusement made it evident that the outcome was secondary—he was simply enjoying watching you squirm.

Your tongue darted out to moisten your parched lips, while anxiety twisted in your gut as you stared nervously at the grand Steinway piano and Rafe. The weight of his words lingered in the air, causing you to hesitate and consider the potential consequences of your answer.

Every which way you looked at it, you were fucked.

Rafe was bound to tell his parents, and you were sure enough about to lose your job once they found out. Despite Mr. Cameron's outward kindness and willingness to accommodate, you knew very well that playing their piano without supervision was not within the bounds of your permission. And he certainly would not appreciate you lying about it either.

Still, you were determined to make the most out of a shitty situation. You weren't trying to prove anything to Rafe, but if this was going to be your last time playing a Steinway, you would go out in style.

You had chosen a haunting, evocative melody,  a tale of lost love and longing. The notes rang out, clear and true, as your fingers danced over the keys. 

Closing your eyes and shutting out the world and Rafe, you allowed the music to flow from your fingertips, guided by instinct and emotion. Your touch was delicate yet confident, breathing life into the haunting melody.

After the last notes of the piece hung in the air like a delicate mist. You held your breath, waiting for some kind of response from Rafe, but all you got was a deafening silence. The room felt like it was closing in on you, and you couldn't help but cast a quick glance in his direction.

Rafe's eyes bored into yours with an intensity that made your heart stop. You shifted uncomfortably, feeling exposed under his scrutinizing gaze. When you finally lowered the fallboard, the tension was so thick you could practically cut it with a knife.

"I should check on Wheezie," you whispered, breaking the silence.

Rafe made no reply, and you took that as permission to leave. When you returned downstairs a half hour later, Rafe was nowhere to be seen and you sighed in relief.

In the best-case scenario, Rafe would keep your little transgression to himself. In the worst-case scenario, you could explain to Mr. Cameron that curiosity got the better of you and seek his forgiveness. Either way, you vowed never to touch their piano again.

"What's on your setlist today, piano girl?" Rafe's voice caused your heart to skip a beat, and you nearly spewed out the orange juice pooling in your mouth. A mere week had passed since your previous babysitting job at the illustrious Cameron residence. Yet here you were once again, feeling a pang of anxiety at the mere sight of him. You had desperately hoped to avoid any interaction with Rafe for the remainder of your shift, but fate had other plans in store.

There he was, sauntering into the kitchen, sporting an obnoxiously bright salmon polo shirt that clashed horribly with his teal shorts, and finished with a backwards baseball cap. Despite his frat boy appearance, you couldn't help but admit that he looked undeniably handsome. The realization hit you like a brick and left you feeling inexplicably uneasy.

"Excuse me?" you sputtered, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

Rafe's gaze shifted towards the living room, where the Steinway was waiting behind closed doors.

"No, I don't think it's a good idea," you said, your voice trailing off as you watched Rafe roll his eyes.

"Whatever," he drawled with a dismissive flick of his wrist, exuding an air of nonchalant superiority as he strode out of the kitchen.

You parroted his words under your breath, feeling frustration boil inside you. Despite his insufferable demeanor, you chose to let it slide. After all, you needed this job, and with a week of smooth sailing under your belt, you suspected that Rafe had kept your little piano incident under wraps. You weren't about to jeopardize your livelihood over a petty disagreement with Rafe Cameron of all people.

Just as you were considering taking refuge in the kitchen to avoid Rafe, the sound of a key being struck on the Steinway echoed through the kitchen, beckoning you towards it.

You stepped into the living room, a bundle of nerves and anticipation, only to find Rafe sprawled in the same chair as before. The piano's fallboard was already raised. Its ebony and ivory keys gleamed in the warm light of the setting sun. Rafe's piercing gaze locked onto yours, then flicked towards the piano.

"Do you want me to play something?" you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Rafe shrugged, looking uninterested. "Do you want to?" he asked, his voice dripping with boredom.

"I don't mind, I guess," you replied, chewing your bottom lip.

If you were to be completely honest with yourself, you were desperate for another chance to play the Steinway. There was a piece that you couldn't get out of your head, and you knew it would sound magnificent on it. You did not need to be asked twice. But at the same time, you were no fool.

You had heard whispers about the "Kook King." Infamous for settling disputes with his fists, not for acts of kindness. You had no idea what was taking place here or why Rafe was suddenly allowing you to play the Camerons' prized possession. But despite your internal warning bells that this could be a trap, you put your glass of orange juice on the floor next to the bench. Consequences be damned.

Taking a confident breath, you aimed to kill.

As you hit the final notes of the composition, the silence was shattered by Rafe's ragged breaths. Your eyes locked onto his, and you saw a flicker of something in his gaze that was gone as quickly as it appeared.

"I've been working on that one for a while," you said, trying to sound nonchalant despite his stare. "I know it's not perfect, but I-"

"No, it's good," Rafe interjected with a croak. "You're good."

His words validated your talent, and a rush of excitement surged through you, causing a grin to spread across your face as you basked in his praise. But the moment was short-lived as Rafe pulled out his phone and started scrolling, his demeanor shifting from impressed to cold indifference. Without warning, he abruptly rose from his seat, an air of superiority emanating from his towering frame.

"Tell Rose I'm having dinner at Top's," he drawled, his voice dripping with aloofness as he looked down his nose at you.

"Sure, okay," you stammered, still reeling from his sudden change in behavior.

Without another glance in your direction, he strode out of the room, leaving you to wonder what the hell just happened.

It became routine. A ritual. Embedded in your weekly visits to the Cameron residence.

Each time you babysat Wheezie, the air would fill with the soothing sound of classical music, as you took your place at the Steinway and brought the keys to life. Rafe, either in the background or seated nearby, listened intently. His brooding demeanor was a stark contrast to the beauty of the music.

As the weeks went by, playing the Steinway became a treasured routine, and it wasn't just the music that captivated you. With every note played, the invisible barrier between you and Rafe seemed to thin. Despite his reserved exterior, there was a subtle shift in the room when he was around, a magnetic pull that drew you closer to him until one evening, a simple question from him sparked a conversation that would change everything.

"Where did you even learn to play like that?" Rafe asked as the sun cast its final rays of light into the opulent living room, painting the space with a breathtaking array of orange, pink, and purple hues.

You had just finished playing a piece by Bach. The air was still thick with the lingering notes of the Prelude as you closed the Steinway lid.

"There's barely electricity on the cut. Far less for piano classes, and even if there was, you can't—you can't teach this, know what I mean? Well, not the way you play it anyway." His tone shifted, taking on a new quality of—dare you think it?—admiration. You couldn't help but wonder if the beer he was drinking had anything to do with his slip of the tongue and the emotions that seemed to seep through in his words.

You cast your eyes to find Rafe leaning forward in his chair, said beer bottle in hand, his hair falling into his face and his eyes laser-focused on you. There was an intensity in his eyes that made you feel like you were being seen, truly seen, by him. But as much as you were flattered by his attention, something lurking in the depths of his gaze made you feel uneasy, and you weren't entirely sure why. You brushed the stray thought aside.

"My dad taught me." You said with pride in your voice. "Did you know they used to have jazz nights at the Wreck?" You turned your body towards Rafe, eager to share this piece of history. "Back then, it wasn't called the Wreck. Anyway, my dad used to play there every night from seven until midnight until the Carreras took over. Now he works on the big oil rig in Burnsville."

"Does he still play?" Rafe asked.

You hesitated for a moment, realizing you were oversharing with Rafe Cameron of all people. But something about his presence made you feel comfortable enough to continue. "No, after my mom left," you trailed off, suddenly feeling vulnerable. "He just gave up on music altogether."

Rafe looked down, his expression unreadable.

"I guess I'm trying to keep the tradition alive, in my own way. It's not jazz, but he approves." You smiled softly. "Anyway, what about you?"

Arresting blue eyes flicked up at yours, and your stomach flipped.

"What about me?" he asked, his voice low and husky, dripping with curiosity and challenge. He leaned back in his chair, the rattan creaking beneath him. He lazily ran a hand through his blonde hair, revealing his chiselled features. You weren't sure why, but the gesture felt calculated. As though it was meant to entice you. And yet you couldn't help but feel a flutter in your chest as you drank in the sight of him.

"No offense, but you don't look like the type to be into..." you waved your hand towards the piano, trying to deflect his gaze and lighten the mood.

"Yeah? What do I look like I'm into?" Rafe purred seductively, his tongue swiping his top lip. His eyes fixed on you. You didn't miss his tone. The double entendre just beneath the surface, if you were bold enough to respond to it. You were sure the alcohol running through his veins had something to do with his sudden flirty behavior. Tomorrow, he'd probably forget the whole thing. But it still didn't stop the butterflies from dancing in your stomach.

"I...I..."

"Go on, don't be shy," Rafe coaxed, his eyes dark and intense, almost daring you to take the bait.

"I don't know," you breathed out a laugh, suddenly feeling flustered and self-conscious.

"Yeah, you do." Rafe said, his tone low and teasing. "Saying I don't look like the type means you have a type in your head. So, let's hear it. What kind of man do you think I am, Y/N?"

You were certain this was not about music anymore, and you felt way out of your element. What were you supposed to say about that? You decided to keep the conversation neutral and err on the side of caution.

"Okay," you nodded as you shifted on the bench. "You look like the type to be interested in other types of music, you know like rap or hip-hop, rock— even country, anything but this."

Rafe looked away with a chuckle, a deep rumble that made your skin tingle. He nodded slowly, pondering your words.

"Does that sound bad? I know it sounds awful. I'm sorry." You cringed.

"Nah, it's pretty tame actually... innocent even..." Rafe murmured more to himself than to you. You shivered as his piercing blue gaze met yours, then slowly traveled down to your lips, neck, and every inch of your oversized t-shirt and cardigan to your jeans-covered body.

He cleared his throat, his voice low as he spoke. "And you're not wrong. Classical music was my mom's thing. She loved it." He said taking a swig of his beer.

"Oh," you breathed out, taken aback by the unexpected answer. Suddenly, the pieces of the puzzle started to fall into place. Why Rafe was always so engrossed in the music each time you played. The wistful expression that crossed his face whenever he heard familiar pieces of music. It was like a window into his soul, a glimpse into a hidden part of him that he kept from the world. And just as you pieced together your thoughts, Rafe spoke, confirming your suspicions.

"We used to go to the mainland to see 'The Four Seasons' or 'Carmen' or some other shit like that. I don't know, it reminds me of her, I guess. Takes me back to happier times." Rafe shrugged, a hint of sadness in his eyes as he sipped his beer.

"I'm sorry..." you whispered.

"Nah, don't be. She was sick for a long time, and now she's... Anyway, It's all good now." Rafe replied with a forced nonchalance, a fragile façade attempting to conceal his true emotions.

"So, you listen to classical music for nostalgia..." you whispered, your voice tinged with a touch of melancholy.

“I guess you could say that,” Rafe said thoughtfully, tilting his head from side to side as he considered your words. He scrunched up his face, eyebrows drawn together as if he had tasted something bitter. “But I'm not a classical music aficionado or anything. It’s not like I’m requesting it in the club. Can you imagine that shit? Right after 21 Savage fuckin’ Mozart on blast. I’d get jumped.”

"I don’t know, you might start a trend," you smiled.

“Sounds like you want me to get jumped”

You outright laughed at that one. “Well, it depends, do you deserve it?”

“Oof” Rafe countered, clutching his chest faux wounded. “That was good.”

You shrugged with a smile, feeling an unexpected kinship with Rafe of all people. Here was this tough, brooding guy who, beneath the surface, was incredibly sentimental and even had a sense of humor. It was a sweet and surprising discovery.

"What about you? Why do you play?" He asked, his blue eyes roaming across your facial features slowly, curiously, when your laughter had died and all that was left was contented silence.

"Good question. Why do I play? Well, I guess for me... it's about the emotion," you replied, your fingers tracing the Steinway keys without pressing them. "Each note, each chord, each composition tells a story. It's like I'm a part of that story, and I get to bring it to life. You don’t need words you just… feel it.”

Rafe nodded, understanding. "I get it. You're the storyteller. The piano is your instrument channelin’ that shit.”

"Exactly!" you said, touching your nose and pointing to him with an earnest laugh.

"Exactly," Rafe repeated with a soft chuckle, his gaze fixated on you.

“Hey, how come I never see you at bonfires?” Rafe asked, a mischievous glint in his eye one sunny afternoon when Rose and Mr. Cameron went out for drinks with friends, leaving Wheezie in your care.

“Bonfires just aren’t my thing,” you replied with a shrug.

“What, no friends to hang out with?” he teased.

“I have plenty of friends!” you retorted, a hint of a smirk playing at your lips.

“Friends that I’ve never seen you with,” he pressed.

 “What do you mean ‘friends I’ve never seen you with’ are you stalking me around town?” 

“Maybe I am...” he shrugged a small devious smile curled his lips. “Whatever. Well, my friends and I clearly hang out when you’re not around,” you shot back, a playful smile lighting up your face.

“Sure you do,” he drawled, a chuckle rumbling in his chest.

Rafe leaned forward against the piano, the sun casting a warm glow on his handsome features. You couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he laughed, and how the muscles in his arms flexed under his t-shirt while he absentmindedly tapped his index finger on the piano lid.

“You know, there’s more to life than playing music,” Rafe said, his voice low and smooth, as he turned the words over with his tongue. His finger tapping the lid, became slower, more measured.

“Oh, I know that,” you replied, rolling your eyes. “I have plenty of other things going on.”

“Yeah? Like what?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Like studying,” you said, trying to keep a straight face as Rafe scoffed and rolled his eyes. “I’m actually quite serious about my grades.”

"I wouldn't expect anything less from a good girl," Rafe chuckled. Once again, his comment caught you off guard. Although you knew he wasn't mocking you, it still felt strange that he felt the need to mention what he perceived was good girl behavior. “Seriously though, you should have some real fun too. Do some shit you probably shouldn’t do. Life’s too short to be cooped up not living it.”

You shrugged, unsure of what to say. Rafe had a point, but you weren’t sure if bonfires were the kind of fun you were looking for. Still, there was something about the way he looked at you that made your heart skip a beat, and you couldn’t help but swallow nervously. As if reading your thoughts, Rafe leaned closer.

“You know, I could show you a good time if you want.” Rafe’s voice was low and husky as he leaned in close, his minty breath fanning your cheek. While he had flirted before, this time there was a sober earnestness to his words that made your heart race. But before you could even formulate a response, the front door's slam cut through the thick tension.

Rafe straightened himself, briefly glancing towards the hallway before fixing his gaze back on you, his jaw tightly clenched in irritation. With determined strides, he purposefully walked away, the sound of his long steps resonating down the corridor, while you unintentionally caught snippets of his familiar argument with Sarah.

It seemed Sarah had developed an interest in John B, a guy you had seen around town, but Rafe vehemently disapproved due to his “pogue” status. You couldn’t fathom why he held such strong opposition, especially considering that you, too, were a Pogue. Had he conveniently forgotten? Or did he consider you an exception?

As you closed the lid of the Steinway, an inescapable curiosity filled your mind about what set your relationship with Rafe apart. Maybe he only saw you as a friend rather than a romantic interest the way Sarah felt about John B.

Reluctant to admit it to yourself, the thought pierced through, leaving you with a confusing mixture of disappointment, anger, and self-annoyance for even entertaining the idea that Rafe could ever feel that way about you.

As Rafe persisted in berating his sister, you dismissed any contemplation of what might have happened between the two of you if she had arrived just a few minutes later.

“Hello?”

“I'm in here.” Rose’s voice, sharp as a razor’s edge, resonated through the foyer of the Camerons’ residence. As you entered the kitchen, you discovered her gingerly picking up the remnants of a shattered vase from the tiled floor. You offered to help her, but she brushed you off with a dismissive gesture.

“No need, honey. I wouldn’t want you getting hurt.” She said, smiling unconvincingly.

Mr. Cameron burst into the room a few seconds later. His dominating presence charged the atmosphere, his eyes glinting like ice. It was only when his eyes landed on you that his demeanour changed.

“Oh, Y/N. Thanks for coming on such short notice. We’ll only need you for two hours. Sarah should be back by then.” He smiled, though it did not reach his eyes.

“Uh, sure. Of course.” You replied. You scurried out of his path as he snatched a file and car keys from the kitchen table.

“I’ll be in the car.” He informed Rose tersely, eliciting a stiff nod from her.

Feeling Rose’s disquiet, you intervened to clear the shattered vase. “I can pick these up for you, Rose.” You said warmly.

“Really? Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.” You assured her with a nod.

“Thank you.” She murmured, her smile returning. “Wheeze is upstairs doing her homework. I’m sorry about all of this. Things are a bit crazy today.” She said, her grip on her bag and sunglasses tightening as if she were holding onto her sanity by a thread. And with that, she vanished, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the shattered pieces of the vase.

Having cleared the wreckage, you climbed the stairs to find Wheezie immersed in her studies in her room, her headphones firmly in place. You inquired if she needed anything or was okay, but she appeared blissfully unaware of the chaos that had unfolded. You marvelled at her ability to concentrate amidst the turmoil, yet you couldn’t dispel the nagging suspicion that the Camerons hid a dark secret beneath their façade of rich superiority. With a sigh, you left Wheezie to her schoolwork and descended the stairs as the sound of the living room door being opened roused your suspicions.

As you passed the living room, your heart sank at the sight of Rafe. He was sitting on his usual chair, swaying back and forth, lost in a jumble of incoherent words. His eyes were bloodshot and streaked with tears. You hurried towards him, your mind racing with worry and fear. You sat down on the floor in front of him, your heart pounding in your chest.

“What happened? Are you okay?”

He responded with a roar that shook you to your core. The words that spilled out of Rafe’s mouth were like knives, cutting deep into your soul. He berated himself with a ferocity that was frightening, how he was a failure in his father’s eyes, how he was nothing but a disappointment. You placed a comforting hand on his knee, giving it a gentle squeeze, trying to offer some solace amidst his torment.

His eyes flicked to your hand, then to your face, as if seeing you for the first time. Rafe’s jaw tightened, his eyes raw with emotions you couldn’t decipher. There was anger there, yes, but there was something else too – something deeper, more primal.

“Play something.” He suddenly demanded.

“I can- I can get someone for you. Do you want me to call your-”

“No. I don’t want that. I want you to play.” He almost sneered at you.

“Okay.” You whispered tentatively.

You made your way to the piano, your fingers trembling with anticipation. As you began to play, the haunting melody flowed from your fingertips.

As the tender notes from the piano enveloped you, the outside world ceased to exist. Within the protective cocoon of the Cameron's living room, you hoped your music might be a balm for Rafe’s pain. But this sanctuary of sound was violently shattered when an aggressive tug at your hair ripped you from your reverie.

Suddenly, Rafe was there, his fingers cruelly ensnared in your hair, exerting a force so savage it wrenched your head backward, choking off your breath and stilling the music in one brutal tug. The once harmonious room was now charged with an electrifying tension, your eyes captured and held hostage by the ferocity in his.

This was not the Rafe you knew.

The Rafe towering above you appeared utterly transformed. Unrecognizable in every way. Gone was the Rafe who had shared countless evenings filled with laughter and sharing stories. Gone was the anchor that made you feel connected and safe.

Instead, frustration etched itself onto his face like a battle scar, while his dilated pupils revealed an intensity you had never witnessed before, oscillating between your fear-stricken eyes.

His gaze dipped to your parted lips as you let out the breath you were holding, and before you could react, before you could appease him, Rafe captured your lips with his.

You froze. Paralyzed against Rafe's lips. Shock stole your breath away.

Time stopped in an instant as you grappled with the thought that this was a dream, a surreal nightmare. But that fragile notion shattered like glass as Rafe's movements became evident. His lips melded against yours like clay taking form. Hard and desperate, his kiss abruptly catapulted you back into the chilling reality that this was, without a doubt, happening.

Your instinct for survival surged as your fight-or-flight response kicked in. You attempted to push him away, but Rafe tightened his grip on your hair and yanked harder, forcing your submission, his tongue plunging into your mouth when you whined in protest.

The taste of alcohol on Rafe’s tongue was bitter and overwhelming. You tried to convince yourself that this was the reason behind Rafe's behaviour. Any moment now, he would realize his mistake, any moment he would let you go. But instead, Rafe's fingers sank into the hollow of your jaw, holding it open while his tongue explored the warm interior of your mouth.

You whimpered softly as his tongue twirled against yours with ferocity. Rafe adjusted his hand in your hair and gripped tighter, making you cry out as pain surged through your scalp and neck. The sound didn't deter him, as he forced your head back drinking from your mouth greedily.

Discordant notes rang out as you lashed out wildly, reaching for anything you could hold onto for balance. Your hands found Rafe's bicep and you dug your nails into his skin, trying to pull his hand away as he kissed you like a man possessed.

Your entire body was inflamed with sensations you had never experienced before as pleasure and pain bled into one. Your scalp ached yet your body felt hot. Your nipples were suddenly sensitive to your sweater's scraggly wool while you ached between your legs for something you had not experienced before. The whirlwind of sensations new and overwhelming within you made your eyes flutter shut on their own, your hands sliding up Rafe's wrist as you held on for balance.

Rafe's mouth worked over yours with an intensity so raw that your protests turned into breathless moans and frantic gasps as you succumbed to his kiss.  Your tongue tentatively meets his stroke for stroke.  Rafe growled in approval and you could feel him smile into the kiss, his tongue stoking the fire deep within you and just as quickly as it started, Rafe abruptly pulled away leaving you shaking and struggling for air.

Your heart raced within your chest as you abruptly pushed yourself off the piano bench, nearly causing it to tip over in your haste. Hand clutching your chest, you struggled to catch your breath, hastily wiping away tears that had unknowingly streamed down your cheeks. 

A fleeting glance at Rafe revealed his heavy breathing, his mouth agape in quick, shallow pants, and his pupils dilated, tinged with a faint hint of blue. Yet, it was the expression etched upon his face that sent a wave of terror crashing over you. 

Rafe's eyes showed no remorse.

Instead, you saw an overwhelming hunger within them that made your blood run cold. Rafe’s gaze moved down from your stunned face over your trembling body.  The danger that emanated from him made your knees buckle.

You took a step back, your mind whirling with fear and apprehension. But Rafe stepped forward, his eyes locked onto yours with determination.

"I-- I need to check on Wheezie. See what she'd like for dinner," you whispered, your voice shaking as you inched backwards toward the door. You turned to run but it was too late.

Rafe reached out and snatched the hem of your sweater, yanking you towards him. You struggled to break free, twisting and thrashing like a scared kitten in his grip but Rafe was relentless. His other hand reached for your waist as he pulled you close.  His nose and lips trailed the back of your neck and into your hairline and he groaned as he breathed you in. With a jab of your elbow into his rib you wriggled free.  It wasn't enough to wound him but it gave you the head start needed to run.

You dashed from the room, Rafe's pursuit relentless. His outstretched fingers grazed your sweater, narrowly missing its mark. It wasn't until you sprinted up the stairs that he abandoned the chase. You didn't need to glance back to feel his gaze on you.  The tendrils of his breathless laugh reverberated down the corridor.

You burst into Wheezie's room, a hot mess of tears and fear. You made up some excuse about feeling unwell and had to go home immediately. After calling Rose and arranging for a replacement babysitter for Wheezie, you sat in her room and waited for the sitter to arrive.

You didn't see Rafe when you left, and you thanked God for that. You knew that if you saw him, you would break down crying, and you couldn't bear to show him any more weakness. But the tears came anyways, hot and heavy, as soon as you got home. How could you have been so stupid? You knew all the rumors about him, knew that he wasn't a good guy, and yet somehow, you thought in your warped mind that he was different. A decent human being who was simply misunderstood.

It wasn't like you didn't see the signs. They were always there, staring you right in the face. The blatant flirting, the staring, the way he undressed you with his gaze. You dismissed every red flag, thinking he couldn't like you in that kind of way because you were not the type of girl Rafe Cameron would go for and you certainly weren't the type of girl Rafe Cameron would kiss.

And it wasn't just the kiss that scared you. It was the fact that Rafe had no intention of stopping. It was the way he held onto you, the way he made you feel like you were drowning in a sea of desire. He was a predator, relentless in his pursuit of you, and as you thought about how he grabbed onto your clothes his lips tracing your neck even as you protested you couldn't help but cry even harder.

No. There was no way you were setting foot in that house again. Not after the way Rafe kissed you, not after what he was determined to get out of you.

Over the next few weeks, Rose's texts kept coming, each one more insistent than the last. But you knew better than to give in to her demands. You couldn't go back to that house, not after what had happened with Rafe. It was too dangerous, too risky, and you couldn't afford to let your guard down again.

You thought about telling her what had happened with Rafe, but the thought of it made your stomach turn. How could you explain what had happened without sounding like a fool? That you had been hanging out with her stepson for months, that you had let things get out of hand?

You had every intention of never setting foot in that house again. But then Rose sent you a text, asking if you were available on Saturday. They were desperate, she said, and willing to offer triple what they usually paid. Rafe and Sarah were going to a game and the lady who was supposed to look after Wheezie had a family emergency.

You were going to turn them down, again, but the truth was that since you had dropped them as a client, it had been difficult to find other work. So, against your better judgement, you agreed, but only after Rose confirmed that she and Mr Cameron would be home long before Sarah and Rafe returned.

As the day of the babysitting gig approached, a sense of foreboding settled in the pit of your stomach. You knew that you shouldn't go, that it was too risky, too dangerous. But the promise of easy money was too tempting to ignore. And so, against your better judgement, you found yourself standing in front of the Cameron's house once again, your heart racing with a mix of fear and anticipation.

As you approached the front door, you couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. Rose had texted you on your way over, telling you that she would be getting ready and to let yourself in. But when you rang the doorbell and received no answer, you began to worry. Still, you didn't think anything of it when you turned the door handle and found that it was unlocked. You stepped inside and called out for Wheezie and Rose, but the house was silent.

Making your way to the kitchen, you put down your bag and pulled out your phone. You texted Rose and Wheezie to let them know that you had arrived and were in the kitchen, just in case Wheezie was plugged in. But as you waited for a response, your heart sank.

Something wasn't right. You could feel it.

You had been to the Camerons' house many times and had let yourself in on a few occasions when they were too busy to answer the door. None of this was new but it felt different. An ominous feeling washed over you. But just as you began to worry, the sound of footsteps in the hallway interrupted your thoughts, and you sighed in relief.

As you called out for Rose, a sudden hush fell over the room, broken only by the sound of footsteps approaching. You looked up, hoping to see Rose's familiar figure, but instead, your eyes met the last person you expected to see: Rafe.

His presence was jarring, like a thunderclap on a clear day. Your heart pounded in your chest as you tried to make sense of his unexpected appearance. But before you could utter a word, Rafe's murmur cut through the silence like a knife.

"Nah, not Rose," he said with a smile.

Fear took hold of you as you realized that he must have had something to do with Rose's texts in the first place. You stepped back, fear making your knees buckle.

"Where's Rose?" you whispered, wrapping your arms around yourself protectively, as if shielding yourself from him.

“Don’t worry about it,” he drawled, his voice low and dangerous.

“Don’t come near me,” you said firmly as Rafe rounded the kitchen island towards you. Immediately, you moved in the opposite direction away from him.

“I… I just… I needed to talk to you, like, a little bit. Is that okay?” he said, opening his hands to placate you.

“Did Rose actually text me?”

“She did,” Rafe soothed. “But then I, uh… I heard you’d be here tonight instead of Pat, and well… seeing you was more important to me than some game.” His eyes trailed over your face, studying your every reaction.

“Where’s Wheezie?”

“With Sarah.”

You shook your head, your mind reeling with disbelief. How could Rafe have orchestrated this situation for you to be alone with him without any of the Camerons noticing? But as if he heard your thoughts, a sly smile curled his lips and he chuckled softly.

“I told Rose I’d watch over Wheeze so she could catch an early ferry,” Rafe explained, his hands moving in slow, deliberate gestures, connecting invisible dots as he spoke. “After Rose left I gave my ticket to Wheeze.”

You felt like you were going to be sick.

“Look, I know the last time I was a little… a little intense…”

“Intense!” You choked. You would have laughed if the whole thing wasn’t so heartbreaking.

“Yes, and I’m -- I'm really sorry about that, okay? I really am.”

"You tried to ra-”

"No! No, no, I would never..." Rafe rushed towards you and you immediately backed away. He froze mid-step as you cowered, his hands still raised in surrender.  "I’m sorry things were confusing and it looked that way but I wasn't trying to hurt you. God, I- l’m-" Rafe sighed, deflated his hands landed on his hips, he looked away as he pressed his tongue on the inside of his cheek.

"You're sorry it looked that way?" you whispered your voice trembling. Rafe's words echoed in your mind while memories of that day in all its menacing glory flooded back. You looked at him flabbergasted.

"Rafe...you... you were kissing me-”

“I know but I-”

“And touching me--"

He breathed out a laugh "Come on, you know I was only-,"

“Without my consent, Rafe.”

He was silent with that and you hoped your words had finally sunk in, had finally made him understand how terrifying he was in that moment.

“Then you chased me.  You chased me like some...” you couldn’t even finish the sentence.  You didn’t know how to finish the sentence.  You were so hurt and confused.  That your friend could do something like that to you. “I don’t even know who you are. I- I don’t think I ever did,” you whispered.

Rafe's eyes landed on yours with that. His gaze was dark and intense, and for a moment, you thought you had gotten through to him because he nodded slowly. But then he let out a humourless chuckle, reminding you of the one he gave post-chase, and any hope of reaching him dissipated.

"You know, it’s funny ‘cause you say that...” Rafe said coldly, a hand gesturing to you as if trying to grasp his own thoughts “But you’re not entirely innocent in all of this, are you?” 

“I don't-- I don't understand."

“Do you have any idea what you're doing to me, huh, Y/N?

"Raf—"

"What kind of mental shit you put me through? Nah, you don't. You don't think about that, do you?" he asked, his hands gesturing toward you as his eyes narrowed and he stared you down. You felt a shiver run down your spine as you realized the gravity of Rafe's words. It was as if he was confessing to a darker truth, a mental anguish that he had been helplessly consumed by, something unintentionally sparked within him by your actions.

"I have my dad on my back talking about legacies, our family business and preparing me for that shit meanwhile Sarah’s running around town doing god knows what with some loser fucking up our family name. I have real shit to deal with...” he gave out a bitter laugh his hand clutched to his chest as he confessed.

“But even with all of that all I can think about every minute of every fucking day, is you.” Rafe's voice was raw and anguished. His hand moved up to his ear as he slowly walked towards you.

"It's like you've crawled into my brain, you know? Like I’m under some fucking spell with your music and your voice and your-" His eyes trailed down your body just as his hand followed the motion, and you shuddered. He was consuming you with his gaze every sinful thought etched across his features.

"Nah, you made me do this…” he said bitterly, his jaw clenched tight.

“Rafe--”

“You did and now I'm the bad guy because I had a moment of weakness. But you know what? Fuck, it.” he shrugged nonchalantly. “Fuck it, i’ll take responsibility for my part in this--”

“Rafe--”

“That’s what real men do, right? Take responsibility for their shit and I’m all about being accountable, so yeah, I kissed you.” He said nodding slowly. “But I’m not sorry.”

His words made you recoil, disbelief etched across your face as you stared at him.

“Yeah, you want me to pretend like I am. Act apologetic but I won’t. I'm not sorry and you should quit actin’ like you didn't enjoy it."

His words were like a punch to the gut, and you could feel the weight of his accusation settling in your stomach. Stunned, you opened your mouth to protest, but no words came out. A dry, humorless laugh left you instead. Rafe simply nodded slyly as he resumed his steps towards you, and as you stepped backwards, your back collided with the kitchen counter.

“That’s- that’s not true.”

“No?” he asked faux confused.

“It’s not- that’s not fair”

“Isn’t it?” he tutted.

"Rafe, listen to me," you whispered shakily, but he was already leaning in, his eyes dark and clouded.

"No. No, no, you listen.”  he rasped, circling in and looking down on you, his lips pouted as he leaned into the shell of your ear, “You were moaning Y/N- No, don’t do that.  Don’t shake your head, and act like you don’t know what I’m talking about. Don't stand there and pretend this whole fucking thing is one-sided. You were moaning into my mouth… and you...you held on to me, yeah? I didn’t force you to do those things."

"Rafe--”

“That was all you princess. So you gotta ask yourself. What kinda girl are you to be into that, hm?” Rafe whispered as he leaned into you.  “What kinda girl would moan like a whore when a guy manhandles her…”

“I didn’t- I wasn’t. I wanted you to stop Rafe and you-”

Rafe chuckled before you could even finish your sentence.

“Is that what was happening while you were kissing me back? Nah, see I know what your problem is. I know, I know, I know…” he repeated softly, as he gently rested his hands on your hips. “I know why you ran when deep down you wanted it.”

You opened your mouth to protest only for Rafe to push his body up against yours.  The hard wall of his body renders you speechless. “We eye fucked each other for months,”  he whispered, as he looked down at you.  His eyes darted to your lips as he licked his own.  “You wanted it.” He said coldly.

"But I get it. It was overwhelming... too much... too soon... hm?" he murmured as his nose grazed yours. "I should have approached you more patiently. I realize that now," he acknowledged with a slow nod. "I should have been gentle with you, and I had every intention to. But I -- I wanted you so bad that day that I couldn't think straight. I'm thinking straight now, though."

“Rafe...” you breathed out, your hands on his chest to push him away but not quite having the strength to do so.  Rafe must have picked up on this because he leaned in, his lips close to yours.

“You keep saying my name but you’re not telling me to stop...” Rafe whispered as his fingers caressed your cheek.  With a gentle touch, he lifted your chin, and you willingly yielded. His caress made you sway, your mind growing hazy and confused. To regain your balance, you closed your eyes.

“Why aren’t you telling me to stop, hm?” he whispered.

You could feel the electricity between you as Rafe leaned in, lips hovering over yours and you tilted your head up slightly, closing the distance, only to be met with nothing. When you opened your eyes, you were met with Rafe’s hooded ones a victorious smile creeping across his lips.  

“Come on” Rafe whispered, and before you could protest Rafe laced his fingers in yours and gently tugged you towards the living room.

Seated at the piano, Rafe smoothly lifted the fallboard with ease.

"Play something for me," he husked, gesturing for you to take a seat beside him on the bench. You felt a flutter of nervousness as you perched yourself next to him, unsure of where to start. You couldn't comprehend how you had gone from rejecting his advances to this moment of willing compliance and acceptance.

Rafe watched you intently. You had been up-close to Rafe before, but never this close. Not this intimately. Your mind became blank, overwhelmed with the prospect of playing for him.

"I...I don't know what to..." you stuttered.

"Anything, anything at all," Rafe whispered, his eyes studying your every move.

Taking a deep breath, you steadied your trembling fingers on the keys and began to release the notes,  slowly at first, but gaining confidence with every passing moment.

“I noticed you, you know,” Rafe rasped. His knuckles suddenly grazed your cheek, and you flinched. “The first time you came to babysit Wheeze, I noticed you.” Rafe followed his knuckles as he moved them across your jaw.

“I remember thinking you were beautiful… shy… innocent…” Opening his hand, his fingers trailed down your neck, and your breath hitched.

“You were wearing this exact sweater…” His fingers splayed over your collarbone as they moved slowly down to your chest.

“What are you hiding under here, hm?” he asked softly. “What are you hiding under these baggy clothes?”

You shied away from his touch, your hands withdrawing from the keys of the piano.

"No. None of that. I’ll tell you when to stop,” he said his voice stern yet soft.  Your eyes glanced at his as Rafe inched closer.  “I’ll tell you when to stop.” he iterated slowly. “Start again.”

Swallowing you placed your hands on the keys while the music resumed from your fingertips.

Rafe shifted closer his leg flushed against your own.  He wrapped his arm over the back of you and hooked it to the other side of the bench. Leaning in, his nose ghosted your neck.

“Raf-”

“Shhhh…”His nose nudged into your hairline.  His other hand on your chest continued its exploration.  It moved lower cupping your tit over your sweater.  The gasp you make made Rafe breathe even heavier, a deep pur coming from the back of his throat.

“Please-” you whispered shakily.

“I’ve always wanted to touch you, you know that?  Every time you played I’d think about what you’d feel like... what you’d look like, moaning for me.  I wanna hear you moan for me.”  

Determined Rafe’s hand moved lower until it dipped under your sweater and you gasped when his warm fingers brushed the skin of your stomach. His other hand let go of the piano stool and was now under your sweater squeezing your tit through your bra.

“Rafe--”

“Keep playing” he whispered against your neck and you did. His hand at your stomach moved lower, finding the button on your jeans he unbutton it with one deft move and your hands falter.

“Keep playing” he murmured, face nudging into your neck, his lips pressing soft kisses to your throat.  “I wanna hear you play while I touch you”  

The sensation of Rafe's hands on your body was almost lost in the overwhelming numbness that had taken over you. His strong hand leisurely tugged at the waistband of your panties seeking to touch what lay beneath, while his other hand snaked under your bra. He caressed and teased your nipple until a soft sob erupted from you.

Rafe moved his hand lower, slipping it between your wet folds and pushing his middle finger inside of you. You cried out, the intensity of sensation causing you to clutch onto Rafe's arm for support, music abandoned.

“It’s okay “ Rafe breathed deeply into your neck, as he roughly peppered your neck with kisses.  “You're okay. Just breathe...” and as he said those comforting words he gently wormed another slender finger passed your slippery folds and into you.

You hissed, trying to move away from the burning stretch of his long fingers. Your nails dug into the flesh of his wrist with enough force to draw blood but Rafe determined as ever slowly moved his fingers in and out of you, each time inserting them a little deeper until it reached his signet ring.  

"You've had more than one finger before?" he asked hotly against your neck. You shook your head no, gritting your teeth in an effort to endure him stretching you further still. Rafe groaned and nipped softly at your jawline, "Fuck, I can tell. I can barely move them. But you're a good girl, aren't you? You're taking them well and afterwards, I'm gonna train you to take all of me."

Rafe's lips trailed tender kisses down the length of your neck, then his mouth closed hungrily around the sensitive skin. His two fingers moved inside you and each slow thrust drew a soft moan from your lips.

With surety, he curled his fingers in a come-hither motion, barely grazing your clit with his thumb. The sensation was overwhelming and foreign, causing you to gasp and cum embarrassingly fast. Your pussy contracting around his fingers, milking them for all they were worth.

“Oh Fuuckk…” Rafe hissed. “You liked that, I can feel it.“ He sighed utterly mesmerised. “Well, if you like that...” Rafe groaned resting his forehead against the side of your face and planting soft kisses on your cheek. “You’re gonna love this.”

With his bottom lip caught between his teeth, Rafe's probing fingers started their relentless hunt for something deep within you. Suddenly, those searching digits found what they were looking for - a spot that caused you to arch over and clutch his hand as you cried out despite your best efforts.

“Oh- there it is” he chuckled softly, shunting his hand and hitting that spot over and over again with a speed and force that knocked the breath out of you, while his thumb expertly rubbed your clit and the fingers of his other hand mercilessly pulled and twisted your nipple.

“OhmyGOD!” you cried.

“That’s it, baby. Fuck my hand. Just like that.”

Rafe kept at it, even as your nails scraped along his wrist and arm for purchase.  Even as you screamed and tried to scissor your legs closed to shut him out. None of it mattered as your eyes crossed and you felt your orgasm raw and violent crash over you. 

Bucking violently into Rafe’s hand, you could feel your release seep through your jeans and onto the piano bench. Pooling and overflowing you could hear it trickle onto the hardwood floor and still, Rafe kept going, kept finger fucking you.

Lost in a sea of agonising pleasure you could do nothing but slump against him and take it, your hips stuttering, your mouth sagging as you whimpered and gasped.

Rafe moaned against you, planting soft kisses on the column of your throat. He stilled his hand, his fingers buried deep inside while you desperately tried to catch your breath.

"Seems my fingers are just as talented as yours, hm?" he said with a breathless chuckle. His nose trailed along your neck, while his tongue darted out to capture the perspiration nestled there. 

Gently, Rafe removed his digits while you gazed in shock, unable to voice a single word as he brought the wet fingers to his lips and ravenously lapped up your fluids with a contented hum.

“This is too much.” you said hoarsely  “I can’t-- I can't do this. No more, Rafe. No more,” you said weakly, trying to remove his hand from your breast and move away from his hold only for Rafe to seize your wrist painfully in his grasp.

"No more?" Rafe chuckled darkly, his gaze fixed on you with dilated pupils. "No more?" he repeated, inching closer as he shook his head. "Nah, baby. No. We're just getting started..."

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

Thank you for reading.  Thanks for liking and reblogging. PART 2 / MASTERLIST

[nrdmssgs]

sub bottom Nikto?

Masterlist

Love, you find him a nice collar, and he will be searching for an engagement ring on the next morning.

TW: pure smut, no story, edging, orgasm denial.

It takes time, to discover that part of him. Nikto is well aware, what people await of such a beast, and he is happy to deliver. He is good at guiding, edging, punishing - you name it. But somewhere deep, there is another nature of his.

The nature, that makes him hope, that one day you won't ask nicely if you can fuck, oh no. Just tell him, toys don't get a choice, and use his body mercilessly.

And once you realize, Nikto has it in him, he craves to be forced and pampered, taken advantage of and taken care of, your game changes.

The first time you put him on his knees - Andre is a work of art. Dilated pupils, darkened blue irises, mouth open, ragged breaths, tongue running over dry lips. A man of his constitution could easily break you, but this one is at your feet the very next second after 'now be a good thing' leaves your lips.

He is so consumed with devotion to you, that poor thing barely hears your command to stop kissing your knees and licking his way up your thighs. It is only fair to teach him a lesson, isn't it? So you take his privilege of using his mouth by putting his balaclava on him and moving cloth over his lips.

"You keep not listening, and I will have to put the mask as well on you, mhm?" And he nods hastily, as if his silent answer would piss you off, should it come too late.

There is another trait of his, that you will soon discover, when you sit Nikto on a couch and edge him for a long time: he is vocal. Of course, you heard his grunts before, but he expressed half of his pleasure in other ways. Grabbing your hair or clawing into you - these and many more other little things helped him to stay more or less discreet...

But now? After you flooded his poor brain with serotonin so good, that he can't form a single thought? After his body, the one he trained to kill and break things, just shuts down, focusing only on the pleasurable sensations that you induce? After you prohibited him touching you? This swollen throbby mess is whimpering and moaning under your loving hands. Shameless and loud, but he just can help it, when you bring him this close to euphoria, put him in so deep.

"So desperate, so hard," your voice is making him high, "wouldn’t it feel so good to be inside me? Yeah, that’s what you want? If you just take a little more, and don’t come, I’ll let you."

And he clenches his teeth, bites down his tongue, squeezes his eyes shut - does everything in his power to just not come. Nikto can go for hours with you folded under him, but when you are riding him for the first time after you teased him so long? Comes fast, comes loads. He would be embarrassed if he had any introspection capacity now.

Nikto is no more a bundle of control, pain and cruelty that he usually is. All this is crossed out by your protectiveness, possessiveness, adoration and dominance. Your look is a blessing, your gestures are a grace, your touch and tone are his salvation.

He breaks the 'no touch' rule, when you ascend your body from from his veiny throbbing shaft.

"Please! I-I can give more, I will be good, fuck, please, just dont go yet! Chert, proshu tebya!*" His voice is shaky. Not a familiar purr, with which he seduced you earlier, but a throaty, ragged desperate whispers.

You freeze and smile. This absolute beast of a man - all at your mercy.

"You keep your hands behind your head, or I will have to tie you up, Andre." You feel his cock twitching at your words.

You pull his balaclava up, so that his mouth is free, and his eyes are covered now and guide him by the back of his head to face you, as you descend back and finally kiss him for the first time today. This horny animal is still hard, doesn't want a minute to catch a breath.

Maybe it's not right to encourage his disobedience, but right now you don't care.

Chert, proshu tebya! - Fuck, I'm begging you!

[jasmines-library]

Hi! I think you said that you would write for Cassandra? If you don’t it’s fine and feel free to ignore this <3

I used he/him pronouns but if you don’t do male readers you can make it gn! :)

Here we go.. So the reader is 12 and younger than the rest of the family. He is a child weapon like cass and Damian. Actually he is Cassandra’s little brother, he was made solely on defeating Cassandra after she escaped. He also has electricity powers and is as much as good of a fighter like Cassandra. So he is sent on a mission to destroy or eliminate Cassandra or another family member but the batfamily stops him. Somehow they knock him out after a hard fight and put him in a. Cell or somethin. They find out he is Cassandra’s bio little brother and are determined to help him. So they talk to him when he wakes up or something and cassandra is like really clingy and protective of him so he reluctantly stays.

If you can, can you show some snippets or short story of his interactions with others and how he is adjusting to his new life in the manor, (he also gets to be a vigilante along side them.)

BROTHER MINE

Summary: Male Reader is a child weapon with electricity powers, created with the intent to kill Cassandra after she escaped, though when he tried to take her down and he gets caught he ends up with much more than he bargained for.

Warnings: Kinda child abuse? (It's a child assassin), violence. Nothing explicit or graphic

Word count: 2.1K

⛤ BATFAM MASTERLIST ⛤

Cassandra Cain was the sole reason for your existence. Almost as soon as she left you were dragged away from your mother kicking and screaming to begin your training. Sandra feared it would happen at some point. Cain had taken her daughter, it was only in due time until he would take her son. 

Although you were older than Cass when she began her training, they still made you ruthless. They pushed you until your legs were trembling and the only thing that crossed your mind was the art of assassination. You didn’t speak anymore. It was forbidden. This meant that the parts of your brain normally used for speech were trained so you could read your opponents movements to predict their next move in a fight. You remember your mother telling you once that they did that to Cassandra too. It was one of the only things you did remember from what little of your childhood you had before it was ripped away from you. Your training was not much different from your older sisters, though your father had made one thing clear. In order to beat her you had to be better than her. So he pushed you further than he had ever pushed anyone before until something in your brain began to change and you discovered a newfound ability to manipulate electricity. They had made you into the perfect tool; smart and powerful but submissive to the right people. You were a weapon with one mission. Kill Cassandra Cain. 

You roamed the streets of Gotham, mask pulled over your face. Your time had finally come. After years of waiting your father finally found an opening on Cassandra and had sent you into the city to meet her. You had been warned that she was with Gotham’s infamous vigilantes and you had deemed it a welcoming challenge. As you walked, boots scuffling along the floor, you couldn’t help but feel that there was something so utterly wrong about this. You had pursued your sister before without a second thought, but now as you grew older and more wise about your actions a part of you buried deep within your teachings couldn’t help but feel as though you were doing the wrong thing. But you dismissed the thought very quickly, honing in on your surroundings as your training kicked in. 

You could see them now. The five of them perched on a rooftop, just above a bright billboard advertising an expensive brand of clothing. The two eldest seemed to be keeping a watchful eye over the city, even from down on the street you could see the way their heads turned and their bodies tensed up when they thought they saw something. The other two boys seemed to be having a scuffle behind them as they jested between each other. And then there was Cassandra, donning her black and yellow suit. She surveyed silently, leaning against the brick wall of the entrance to the building’s exit staircase. She was on edge, and rightly so. 

You moved silently through the building and up the stairs as though you weighed nothing more than a feather. You hugged the walls, moving swiftly to avoid being detected by any of the blinking red sensors and alarms. It was child's play really; something you could do in your sleep. 

The door to the rooftop was locked when you tried to ease it open gently, so you brought up a spark of electricity to your fingers to fry the circuit so that you could then open the door and slink onto the rooftop without anyone noticing. 

The youngest two vigilantes had since stopped their bickering and were now also surveying the skyline, but your dear sister still hadn’t sifted from where she was before you entered the building.Perfect. 

Moving silently and agilely you ran towards Cassandra and grabbed her roughly from behind. She went down with a cry of alarm but was quickly moving again, flipping you off of her before you even had the chance to think about conjuring up electricity. Her shout had alerted the other four, who quickly came rushing to her aid, weapons readdied as they charged towards you. Nightwing swung his escrima sticks at you, they crackled but you caught them one handed and sent him staggering back so you could move for the next attack. Despite the fact that you were heavily outnumbered, you managed to hold your ground extremely well by maximising your small frame and use of training to slip around them and send them to the ground. The heroes were well trained too though, and the scuffle was tiring for all of you. 

With a flick of your hand, you sent Robin flying across the roof skidding to a stop when he hit the brick wall. Finally you had managed to get rid of the obstacles in your way and could focus entirely on your sister. You turned, manoeuvring your body to land a kick to her chest but she ducked and rolled out of the way before trying to grab your ankle and pull you down to the ground. The two of you fought intensely, neither of you making much progress besides landing the odd lucky punch here and there because you were both able to predict each other's next move. Though eventually, you managed to make a false move and grip her wrists which allowed you to flip her over your body. Once you had her pinned underneath you, you began to conjure up the strength to finish your mission, but something stopped you. She looked up at you with wide eyes, one word slipping from her chapped lips.

“Y/N?”

You froze. 

At some point during your fight with her, your mask had fallen from your face without you noticing, and now she could see exactly who you were. And now your name had fallen from her lips accompanied by that look of recognition, you were stuck still. And one moment of distraction was all it took for one of the other vigilantes to regain their senses and land a heavy blow to the back of your head. 

~

Cass was quiet. More quiet than usual as she sat on the other side of the cell, peering at you from the other side of the bars. There were a million things running through her head all at once and she was struggling to process them. You were alive. You were an assassin. You had tried to kill her. It was a lot to handle. Dick seemed to notice as he glanced up at her from the computer. 

“You okay, Cass?” He frowned, worried for a moment that she was injured more than she let on, but Alfred had checked the five of them over and assured that everyone had escaped with nothing more than a few scrapes and bruises. 

She nodded, biting the inside of her cheek as she thought. Dick made his way over to her, sliding down on the bench and eyeing you up. You were still unconscious, Tim had hit you hard with his staff. 

“He’s not gonna get you, Cass.”

“No.” She shook her head, fiddling with her hands in her lap and completely avoiding his gaze. “It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

“He’s my brother.”

Dick had to stop his jaw from dropping completely. “What?”

“I-I thought he was dead. They told me he was dead and now he’s…this is my fault.”

“Slow down.” He told her as the others had started to approach. 

“What’s going on?” Damian asked.

“When I was still living with my father…sometimes my mother would stop by. She seemed cruel too, but she had this tenderness. She knew I was just a child. I suppose I was too young to remember everything, but I remember her telling me stories of a little boy. My brother. Y/N.” She gestured to you. “My father wasn’t supposed to know. Whenever she stopped by she would show me pictures of him and tell me how no matter what happened I must keep him a secret…but I guess my father knew because now he is just like me.”

“Oh, Cass…” Someone placed a hand on her shoulder. 

“A few nights after I escaped, I stopped by my mothers house in hopes of at least seeing him. But he was gone. And instead I found my mother clutching a bloody sheet. I assumed he was dead. But this is so much worse.”

“We can fix this, Cass. We helped you, we can help him.” Dick told her. He understood that what you did wasn’t your fault and that you were just a scared little boy following orders.

She hummed, watching as you stirred before snapping upright on high alert from the moment you woke up. 

You were confused for a moment when you awoke on a small cot in the corner of a cell, but then it all came flooding back to you. You almost immediately noticed the power suppressing cuffs on your wrists and secure bars on the wall. Cursing, you noticed the group of people eyeing you from the other side of the room and instead of staring daggers silently at them like you were taught to do, you began to break down.

The hot, thick tears that cascaded down your face were alien to you but you made no move to stop them from falling. Cassandra furrowed her brow at your demeanour as she had fully anticipated an aggressive reaction.

“s-sorry…” You rasped out. Your voice was so hoarse from not using it for so long you were surprised that you even remembered how to talk, even if your sentences lacked half of the words they needed. “They m-made…”

Cassandra moved closer towards you, ignoring the protests that Jason made. She crouched down near you and studied you. 

“I thought you were dead.” She whispered. 

You recoiled slightly, surprised that she even knew you existed. You shook your head meekly, interacting tenderly with her and going against everything you had known, but despite that it felt so right.

“Oh…Y/N. I’m so sorry this happened to you.”

“N-Not fault.” You stuttered back. 

“But it is-” She protested. 

“No.”

When one of the other boys approached the cell, you moved back hesitantly. 

“It’s okay.” Cass told you. “You can trust them.”

“We can help you.” Tim said. “If you’ll let us?”

“ c-can’t stay. Father-”

“He won’t know you’re here.” Dick told you. “We’ve kept Cass safe, we can do the same to you too.”

“Please, brother…” Cassandra insisted “Let me make this up to you.”

After pondering a moment, you reluctantly nodded. “Okay.”

BONUS:

Inspired by this image:

Cassandra had not seen you all day and as much as she didn’t want to admit it, she was getting worried. When she returned from patrol, she had peered into the room that Bruce had given you, only to find it empty. She then checked in the cave to see if you were there, but all she found was a weary Tim and Jason who had been sparring. She asked around, but neither of them had seen you either. 

She was on the verge of panicking as she made her way back to your room to double check, when she heard chatter coming from Damian’s room. It spilled underneath the door with the light into the hallway. She knocked before pushing it open to a most peculiar sight. 

You were sprawled out beside Damian on his bed, with a book in hand. He guided your finger across the page as you read, helping you as you tried to decipher the words on the page.

“I-It…vuh? Vuh…Vuh-uss? It vuss? No.” You shook your head, screwing your face up as you scanned the page. Damian sat patiently beside you. “Was!” You grinned. “It was!” 

“Yes! Well done.” Damian smiled slightly. “keep going.”

“What are you doing?” Cass interrupted, making the two of you jump. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

“Sorry…” You muttered. ��Damian teach me to read.”

Cassandra raised a brow. “The demon spawn is doing something nice for once?”

“Tt. No.” 

“Sure looks like it.”

“No. No. it’s for everyone’s benefit. How is he supposed to become a vigilante if he can’t read? Hmm? He needed to learn, so I decided to teach him. No one else was going to do it.”

“Are you sure it’s not because you just wanted to do something nice for once?”

Damian’s cheeks flushed. “No. Of course not.”

Cassandra shook her head. “Keep telling yourself that, Dames.”

[thebestofoneshots]

Gilded Constellations | wolfstar x reader

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 7.2 K Warnings: none Prompt: Things finally start to make sense, maybe you'll finally discover one of the mysteries that have been surrounding you This IS a wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it.

ANNOUNCEMENT:

In a couple of weeks I'll make a Q&A to cellebrate Gilded Constellations reaching 100,000 K words. And I'd love for all of you to be a part of it. So send in your questions, they can be anything you want, things like: How did you get the idea? Where does inspo come from? writing tips (I mean I don’t know much but anyway), character design, fancast, fav characters, things about me, about my plot notebook, literally anything you want, ask away (just state: For Q&A event or something) <3

Chapter 14: Maybe I’m Amazed

Monday October 25th, 1976

You and Remus had a presentation today, but he wasn’t anywhere to be found. You waited near the door of the classroom, with your notes in your hands, looking over them while tapping your feet on the ground, toying with your ring, and turning to look at the hall every couple of seconds, hoping to see him miraculously arrive. But he didn’t, in fact, it was the second time that day people you expected to see were nowhere to be found. 

You were also supposed to go flying with James and Sirius in the morning like you did every single day, but neither of the boys made it. You went up to knock on their room’s door, but nobody answered, and after waiting for a few minutes, you decided to go for the morning flight by yourself. 

Professor Flitwick saw you at the door, looking nervous and smiled at you empathetically from his desk. When your class was just about to start you sighed and walked closer to him. 

“Professor, I don’t understand what’s happening, I’m not sure if Remus will make it. He didn’t tell me anything, I haven’t seen him since yesterday and I–“ 

“It’s ok,” he said calmly “Mr. Lupin is sick, I was informed.” 

“Sick?” You asked with a frown. 

Flitwick nodded, “I believe he and some of his friends all ate something that upset their stomachs at Hogsmeade on Saturday, they’re at the nurses’ office.” 

You opened your eyes wide, that was your lie. But if the boys really were at the infirmary, then it meant something had happened to them on their stupid prank last night. 

You frowned, almost wanting to run off to see them, but resisted the urge to do so “What’s gonna happen to our presentation then? He’s worked so hard on it, I wouldn’t want him to lose his grade.” 

“You can present with him next class,” he told you comprehensively “It’s ok Miss (Y/LN), take your seat, don’t stress too much about it. I know you’ll give a brilliant presentation once your partner’s feeling better.” 

You nodded “Thank you, Professor,” you told him with a smile and went to take one of the seats. 

The class started, Lily and Marlene had worked on their project together and they went first, talking about the properties of wordless magic and then making a very small presentation, teaching some volunteers to make sparks with their wands without saying a word. Tom and Marlene were next, and they gave a talk about the dangers of dark magic and so on. A couple other students asked for volunteers, and while in normal situations you’d have been among the first to raise your hand, today was an exception, you were a little too busy, tapping your feet under the desk and looking at the clock every couple of minutes. 

At some point you decided you had to do something, so you took some parchment out and wrote a small note: 

Hey Puppy! You all right? I missed you and Prongs on our morning flight today… Remus missed our presentation too, tell him Flitwick said we could present next class. Are you all really at the infirmary? Because I know for a fact it wasn’t something you ate… Unless you actually ate something last night, I wouldn’t put that past you lot, but I’m sure that’s not it. I’ll keep an eye out for your answer plane. 

You read it over a couple of times and then started to bend it into a very small paper plane that you left over your desk. When class was over you used the same spell Remus had used at the beginning of the course so that your little plane landed close to Sirius. 

It wasn’t until you were in the middle of transfigurations that a different paper plane landed over your desk, you carefully unfolded it and started reading:

Hey beautiful! Thanks for that strong vote of confidence! We didn’t actually eat anything bad. Remus says he’s sorry for missing the class, and that he’ll do your homework for a week to make it up to you, I’m jealous! 

We really are at the infirmary though, last night’s prank went awry and we accidentally got attacked by Grindylows. We’re all right, Remus got the worst of it anyway… But we came to check on him first thing in the morning, that’s why we didn’t make it to the morning flight. Your rumour somehow got all the way to Poppy, and when we went to check on Remus she gave us some medicine and had us stay in the infirmary to check on us… so it’s basically your fault. 

Anyway, you should still come see your poor boyfriend in the infirmary, pamper him with kisses and offer him some tasty treats… at least.

ps. Since I haven’t retrieved the ones from last week, that would mean you owe me six so far…

You smiled when you finished reading, Sirius was a total flirt, and you loved that about him. When you read over it though, you frowned, that was the second time Remus got hurt after a prank, and if they were attacked by Grindylows, there was no way they were just fine, those little creatures could be absolute savages, you’d know, since one time a friend at your older school had fallen on the lake and been attacked by those nasty little water beings, she had to be taken to the hospital wing, and stayed there for a week. Of course, Remus was bigger, stronger, and a more advanced wizard, since that had happened to her in 3rd year, but regardless, Remus must be pretty battered up, again. 

Finally, you sighed and went back to trying to turn the quill you had in front of you into a bird. Not that you were doing too good at that either.  You let out an exasperated groan after your 3rd try of only getting a beak and little legs to appear on the quill. 

Professor McGonagall approached you  “Everything ok Miss (Y/LN)?”

You nodded, the air of exasperation remaining regardless, “I’m really struggling to get this right,” you told her “This is the first time I ever done transfiguration, and no magic had been this challenging for me before, it’s just…” 

McGonagall smiled understandingly “Would you mind if I got you a tutor? I know a couple students from your year that would be more than willing to help.” 

“I… uh… I’m not really that close to everyone in my year…” 

McGonagall raised an eyebrow, you were pretty much already a member of one of the Gryffindor friend groups, and the rumour that you and Sirius were dating was already spreading too “I was thinking Mr. Lupin could help, and from what I gather you’re already friends…”  

“Oh… Remus? Yeah, we’re close!” 

“Excellent, I’ll tell him once he’s back on his feet. Poor boy, he must be feeling pretty tattered up today.” 

You nodded “Yeah, he shouldn’t have eaten that.” 

“Eaten what?” She asked, confused. 

You arched your eyebrows “The thing at Hogsmeade that made them all end up in the infirmary…” 

“They all?” Minerva quipped “Who else is in the infirmary?” 

“Sirius, James and Peter.” 

“They are there?!” She asked, seemingly surprised. You frowned, how did McGonagall know Remus was in the hospital if she didn’t know the boys were there too?

“Isn’t that the reason Remus was in the infirmary?” You asked, rather confused. 

“The reason he–? Oh right, yeah right, must have slipped my mind.” She said and stepped away. 

You frowned, there were many things that did not make sense with Remus Lupin, you’d already accepted that, and moved on from it, since he was one of the best people you’d ever met, but this, this was just off. McGonagall was not the type of teacher to whom things just “slipped her mind”, and that was a fact. Unless she knew Remus had been in the infirmary for another reason, and if that reason was that he’d been attacked by Grindylows, then that would imply she knew about the boys’ prank and was covering for them, which made even less sense. 

And today was not the first time things were weird, it was like some teachers knew something that you didn’t. And it was all somehow related to Remus. And you really did not want to pry, but your mind, being naturally curious, could not stop thinking about it. And it all seemed so familiar; like you only needed to find the one little string that would solve the entire mystery, and it was just there for you to reach out and pull, but somehow, you were trying to find the tail end with your eyes closed. Maybe Remus really did blindfold you the first time you met, but instead of using the physical blindfold, he’d used an intricate web of half-facts and untold tales. Of course, he didn’t owe you any kind of explanation, and it was not like you were going to ask but a part of you really, really wanted to discover the mystery. 

You spend the entire class pondering all the little things that didn’t make sense about Remus Lupin, thinking of trillions of ways in which they could be connected to each other, but nothing seemed to make sense. No matter how much you racked your brain, you could not find the string to tie it all out. You were so focused in uncovering the mystery that you didn’t even realise when the class was over. 

“Hey (Y/N)! You ok?” Tom said as he shook your shoulder, snapping you out of your thoughts. 

You nodded “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” You said, but your head was pounding from so much thinking, and to be honest, you did not want to deal with divination class, so you corrected yourself “Actually, would you mind telling Spellman I’m feeling a little dizzy, and that I’m going to the infirmary?” 

Tom gave you a look and nodded, the two of you stood together and started walking towards the door “And where are you actually going to?” He asked, curiosity getting the best of him. 

“Hm? Oh, to the infirmary actually, I’ll just pass by the kitchens first.” 

“The kitchens?” He asked confused as you both continued walking towards the stairs. 

“I’m taking some food for the boys,” you explained, Tom nodded, but still looked confused “They got caught up in the excuse from yesterday and Poppy got them to stay in the infirmary to check on them.” 

“So you’re just feeling bad as an excuse to go see your sweet boyfriend,” he teased. 

You nodded “Yeah, and my friend who got attacked by Grindyllows.” 

Tom frowned “Grindylows? At this time of the year?” 

“Yeah, why?” 

“It’s weird, when the lake starts to cool down they disappear.” 

You frowned at that, yet another puzzle piece to solve, but by then Tom was already walking towards a different set of stairs “See you around, hope you feel better, I’ll tell Spellman where you went,” he said loudly. Tom really was the worst liar you’d ever met. 

“Thanks Tom,” you managed to say before scurrying through one of the hall entrances, so people wouldn’t notice the weird exchange you’d had. 

Once you got to the kitchens you knocked on the frame and asked the elves if you could have some food, they nodded and started preparing you some snacks to go, you asked around, hoping to find Nimbbletwist, but the elves told you that she’d been commission to something by Dumbledore that particular day. When they were done you thanked them profusely and waved goodbye. You grabbed the package of food and after placing the entire thing inside your backpack you started walking towards the infirmary. 

Once you were next to the huge, half-opened doors, you slowly slipped inside, hoping not to cause too much of a stir inside, but the place was pretty much empty, other than the hushed whispers you heard at the end of the room. A curtain was covering the boys from your sight, and muffling their voices. 

“We need to find a better way to deal with your furry little problem,” You heard Peter say “Moony’s been going pretty wild the past few times.” 

“Ehm…” You cleared your throat, whatever the boys were talking about, the fact that they were whispering about in an empty room, meant that the conversation was secret enough for them, and you were not planning to eavesdrop on some of the nicest people you’d met. “Morning boys,” you said with an awkward wave. 

Sirius smiled the second he spotted you, Peter looked like he’d seen a ghost, and Remus looked too tired to care much about you having shown up almost out of nowhere. But James was the first one to speak “Hey (Y/N)! Sorry we missed the morning flight.” 

You nodded “Sirius told me all about your mishaps,” you said as you walked closer to them, you looked around trying to find a sitting spot, and when you didn’t you resolved to stay standing “Brought you guys some snacks.” 

“You actually did?” Sirius asked with a dashing smile, eyes shining in content. His girl had brought him snacks, and she looked as lovely as ever while doing so. By then, you were already turning your backpack in front of you and pulling the little pack the elves had built for you. So he helped you hold it as you pulled the food pack and placed it on the bed besides Remus. They’d packed sausage rolls, pork pies, scotch pancakes, Jaffa cakes and tiny Bakewell tarts, Peter dug right into the sausage rolls, like he was starving. 

“Poppy didn’t give you boys any food?” 

“She gave us soup,” Peter said in between bites “It was so bland and tasteless, she said it’d make our stomachs feel better.” 

“I thought it was good,” Remus said with a shrug. 

“Yeah, you got the one with spices,” Peter complained “You should’ve said we had a headache or something instead.” 

You raised an eyebrow, “Since when are headaches something 4 people can have at the same time?” You retorted. 

Peter shrugged in response “A magical headache or whatever.” 

“At least, thanks to you, we didn’t get in trouble for skipping class,” James said with a shrug. 

“Exactly, that’s my girl!” Sirius said with a wink, then he grabbed your arm and pulled you onto his lap, you arched your eyebrow at him once you were comfortably sitting on him “You looked like you were tired.” 

You laughed, shaking your head “Yeah, sure Puppy, if you say so.” 

“Don’t think I’ve stopped counting,” he said as he wrapped his arms around you a little tighter, setting the two of you in a more comfortable position. 

Finally, you turned to Remus, he wasn’t eating any of the things you’d brought, James was munching on a pork pie and even Sirius was enjoying a Bakewell tart, but Remus looked genuinely beaten up. He had a sharp gush on his face, and another one down his arm, probably many more underneath his clothes and bandages. Just when you started to pay attention to the open wounds, and realising how different they were from the ones your friend had gotten when she was attacked by Grindyllows, Sirius spoke again “You’re wearing your ring today,” he said pointing at it as he grabbed your hand to look at it. 

“Found it in a drawer as I was getting ready in the morning,” you told him “seemed to match the mood of yesterday.” 

“Because of the moon and the stars,” Sirius agreed, paying a closer look at your ring, you nodded, “It’s very beautiful,” he said, slipping it out of your finger and testing if it would fit in his pinky, it stood out among his thicker rings, but he didn’t seem to mind. 

“Won’t you eat anything?” Peter asked Remus as he munched on his fourth sausage roll. 

“I’m not really feeling it,” Remus responded. 

“Mmm… Actually–“ you said as you placed a cookie in your mouth to bring your backpack to your lap again. Sirius took the cookie from your lips and held it for you, you turned to him and whispered a small “thanks,” before you continued to rummage through your bags, “It’s here!” You said as you pulled out a chocolate bar. It was the same brand Remus always carried around, and you’d bought a few at Honeydukes over the weekend. You’d decided to always carry one in your bag, to offer to Remus when he was feeling off, just like he’d done for you several times. You handed it over to him. 

The boy smiled as he grabbed onto it “Thanks love! Don’t deserve it after I failed you for today’s presentation.” 

“Don’t be silly Rem, you had an accident,” you told him motioning to him on the bed. 

“And where’s my chocolate bar?” Asked Sirius as he leaned his head over your shoulder to give Remus a better look. 

“You don’t get one today Puppy, I only packed one in the morning, sorry.” 

“And you gave it to Remus instead of me?” He teased, playing offended. “You do remember I am your boyfriend right?”  

“Well, clearly Remus was the one to save all of your asses last night,” you said pointing at the bandaged boy, and then at the rest, who barely had a scratch on them “However the hell did you get into a fight with Grindylows?” 

“We were trying to get some gillyweed,” Remus responded while he pulled on the paper of the chocolate bar to open it “for a special prank we wanted to do on the Slytherins.” 

“With gillyweed?” You asked with a frown. 

“For a potion,” James added “took the recipe from one of Grandpa’s old journals.” 

You narrowed your eyes at James, but nodded, Who knows? the Potters are pretty much experts on potions, they’d know. “Did you get it?” 

Remus shook his head “We were too busy with the Grindylows.”

“I could maybe help you–˝

“–No!” Remus, James, Sirius and Peter said at the same time. You closed your mouth at that, taken aback by their answer. 

“Love, you did see Moony, right? Do you wanna end up like that?” Sirius reasoned. 

“Well… I’m a good swimmer, I could scare the Grindylows away with bombarda or something–”

“–don’t worry about it,” said James “We decided we would buy it in a magazine and get it delivered, we don’t wanna have to go through that again,” he motioned to Remus. 

“But thanks for offering,” Remus added “It’s very brave of you.” 

You shook your head, “those stupid Slytherin boys have been getting on my nerves lately, whatever prank you do to them, I’d love to help.” 

“They’ve bothered you again since the broom incident?” Sirius asked. A shiver ran down your spine as you remembered the way Evan had pulled you over the railing last night. 

“Nothing I can’t deal with, they’re just a bunch of cowards.” 

James looked at you with apprehension, he thought it was his fault that Barty had started to pick on you, after all the ball you threw at his face had originally been directed at him, not at you. You wondered if the boys had heard of yesterday’s commotion in the astronomy tower, they probably hadn’t, they wouldn’t be relaxed at all. 

Sirius yawned from behind, closing his eyes as he leaned closer to you, resting his head over your neck. “You boys should go get some sleep,” you told them when you noticed that it wasn’t only Sirius who was sleepy, James’ shoulders were slumped, and he normally stood straight, while Peter was sluggishly munching onto his fourth sausage roll. “I’ll stay with Rem, I need to wait for Poppy to come anyway, I want something for my headache.”

“You’ve got a headache?” Remus asked with a frown, “Why didn’t you tell us earlier?”  

You tried to shrug but stopped when you remembered Sirius still had his head over your shoulder “You looked a lot worse,” you said with a teasing smile. 

He shook his head with a breathy laugh, “Don’t put yourself second luv, I’m fine, I’m strong! See?” He said as he raised his arm and as if to show off his muscles. 

You laughed, he wasn’t lying, but it was still funny. “You sure you can stay luv? What about your classes?” Sirius asked. 

“I’ll catch up later, it’s easy. It’s not like we have transfiguration.” 

“Still having trouble with that?” Peter asked politely. 

You nodded “That’s literally the cause of my headache, couldn’t get a feather to turn into a bird. McGonagall said she’d give me a tutor.” 

“How delightful,” Sirius said ironically. 

“My thoughts exactly,” you agreed, “but then she said it’d be Remus, so it’s fine, we’re already working together in so many other classes, he must be getting sick of my face.” 

“Oh shut up, I would never,” he said as he broke off another square of his chocolate.

Sirius extended his hands towards him “Gimme soooome Moooony!”

Remus rolled his eyes, but extended his hand with a piece towards your boyfriend anyway, when their hands brushed against each other Remus hissed “What the hell Pads?” He said with a frown, looking betrayed. 

Sirius looked at his hand, his eyes widened as he saw he was still wearing your ring, your silver ring. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to shock you.” 

“Shock him?” You asked confused, that wasn’t the reaction you’d expect from someone who’d gotten an electricity shock. Let alone Remus’.

Remus nodded, “I’ve got a small cut in my hand,” he lied “It was rather unexpected.” 

You looked at him with a bit of a frown, you hadn’t seen any cuts on his hand. James suddenly stood up and clapped, gathering everyone’s attention “Well, if I don’t move now, I’m falling asleep on this chair. Pete, Pads, you coming along?” 

While you turned your head to look at James, Remus threw a look at Sirius, who frowned apologetically and mouthed “I’m sorry, I forgot.” 

“I’m coming,” Peter said, standing up after James. “Need anything from the dorm?” He asked Remus. 

He shook his head “I’ll catch up with my homework later.” He responded. 

“I’ve got a couple of books here in my bag, we can read something while they go sleep.” You offered your friend with a smile. 

“Sounds great!” Remus responded with a smile. 

“Nerds!” Sirius teased. 

“Pads?” Peter asked, “You coming too?” 

Sirius nodded, burying his head on your back as he hugged you tighter. 

“You don’t have to go,” you told him since he didn’t look like he wanted to let go of you just yet. 

“Why don’t you come nap with me instead?” He mumbled, voice a little muffled since he still had his head pressed to your back. “You smell really nice today.” Truth be told, Sirius thought you smelled nice every day, but with some of the dog qualities still lingering on him after the previous hours of being a dog, he was both extra sensitive to smell,  and extra clingy of his human too, not that you knew any of it. 

“Let the poor girl breathe mate!” Peter teased. Sirius just groaned in response. 

“I’m gonna stand up luv,” he told you, you were about to stand, but he just stood up while still holding onto you, and once he was up, he slid to the side, and dropped you right back on the chair. Well then, I guess that works too, you thought. 

“Bye Puppy,” you told him as he walked towards his friends. He raised his hands, showing 9 fingers up and raising his eyebrows. You rolled your eyes, but also realised he was still wearing your ring on his pinky finger “Oi my ring!” 

“I’m keeping it as collateral,” he told you, “‘least until you pay up what you owe.” You gave him an amused smile and shook your head as he left. 

“What do you owe him?” Remus asked once the boys were gone. 

“He hasn’t told you about that yet?” You asked casually “says he doesn’t like being called Puppy–“ 

“–that’s a lotta crap.” 

You laughed “Yeah, well he charges a kiss for every time I call him that.” 

Remus raised his eyebrows, now he was amused “he’s just taking advantage of you love…” 

“Is he though?” You said back with a little smirk “The way I see it is a win-win situation. He gets to be all flirty and I get to kiss his pretty lips.” 

“Touché,” the boy agreed, he too thought Sirius had pretty lips “Can I tease him with the nickname too?” 

“All you want,” you replied with a smile “if he tries to kiss you, though, don’t blame me for it.” You both laughed, and a comfortable silence followed, then you remembered you still had books inside your bag and pulled them out, setting them on the bed beside him. He grabbed the one at the top when you noticed which book it was, you pulled it from his hands. “You can’t read that one.” 

“I can’t read… A Wizard's Handy Handbook of Spells?” He asked as he read the cover name from your hands. 

“It’s not that,” you added, holding it tightly between your arms. “It’s… not actually A Wizard's Handy Handbook of Spells, I charmed the cover.” He arched an eyebrow and tried to take it from your grasp, you pulled back but it was too late, he had it in his hands again.  Remus had an awful lot of energy for someone who had been badly hurt just a couple of hours ago. “Remus, give me that!” 

“I wanna know why you charmed the cover first,” he said while dangling the book in the air. 

You looked at him with a frown and jumped forward to try and grasp the book from his hands, but he pulled it back, to the side of the bed. “Remus!” 

“Am I gonna have to read it?” 

You stood up, and extended your hands over him, to try and get the book that was on the other side of the bed, but your feet got trapped with your backpack strap and you ended up falling over Remus. He groaned as your body crashed over a particularly nasty bruise. Your scent filled his nostrils from the closeness, Sirius was right, you smelled awfully nice, a little like him too.

“Shit Rem, I’m sorry,” you said standing up as soon as possible “I didn’t mean to–“ The brusque movements had caused his shirt to rise up slightly and you actually saw the nasty bruise your body had crashed against, you looked at it with a concerned frown and then back at your friend “Remus…” 

He averted your gaze, he did not like being pitted “I’m fine.” He said once he turned back to you, using his free hand to pull down his shirt again “I’m strong, remember?” 

“Yeah, someone falling over a bruise hurts, no matter how strong…” 

He shrugged, he’d definitely had worse than you falling over him “You’re light, didn’t hurt much.” You looked at him, sighing “and you smell nice, no wonder Sirius wants to have you on his lap all the time.” Finally, you laughed, shaking your head as you stared at your friend. Remus realised you had a really nice laugh as you did, he shook his head from the trance of staring, he wasn’t sure he’d ever found a girl as pretty as you. “Will you tell me what kind of book you were trying to hide from me, or will I have to figure it out myself?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“It’s a spicy romance novel,” you said avoiding his gaze, he smiled diverted. The more you know, he thought. “It was recommended!” You added. 

“Yeah, sure.” 

“It was!” You insisted “By your little Ravenclaw girlfriend, actually” 

“Nina Blythe?!” he asked in disbelief.

You nodded “Are you sure you don’t want to date her? She’s clearly into the good stuff.” He gave you a look and you laughed, Nina was beautiful, but she definitely still had a baby face, like Remus had said when you told him she had a crush on him.

“She’s not really my type.” 

“Which is…?”

“None of your business, of course.” He replied sassily, and then changed the subject “How spicy?” He asked, curiosity taking the best of him. 

You shrugged “I’ll tell you when I get to the spicy part,” you told him with a shrug, taking the book from his hands, he let you do it without any fuzz this time “But um…” you pointed at one of the other books on the bed “this one’s good, you’d like it.”

“Is it also spicy?” He teased. 

“Remus!” You complained, “Not every single book I read is spicy!” 

He shrugged “Wouldn’t shame you if you did.” 

You rolled your eyes and let out a breathy laugh. “It’s not spicy, but it is really good.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” he said, taking the book and opening on the first page. Soon enough the two of you were comfortably reading. You were so engrossed in your book that you’d totally forgotten the initial reason you’d gone there. But as you continued flipping pages, it was like the string you had been trying to reach earlier was finally there, shining brightly for you to take it, and tie all the mysterious facts into one sole explanation. As your eyes moved through the words in the book, the description of the male lead started to resonate with you…

Remus was strong. Remus had a lot of scars and bruises all over his body, and they were definitely not caused by Grindyllows, he always carried around a calming draught and had other rather strong painkiller potions in his room as well, he tended to stay away from you when you wore your silver ring, literally jumping from your grasp when you touched him with it on one time, and was also visibly mad at Sirius when he brushed over his fingers with it on, as if they both knew something you didn’t –electric shock, my ass. 

McGonagall knew he was in the infirmary, no, she expected him to be in the infirmary today, yesterday was full moon. 

When you told him that he could get the Fluxweed he said he was good at catching so he switched with you, he would’ve had to harvest it on the full moon. All the boys got really suspicious during the full moon, and the two times you’d seen the full moon happen in the castle, Remus and all the boys had disappeared. Peter was talking about “a furry little problem” just before you cleared your throat earlier. James had joked about his romance novel being called “The Beast Within.”

In the boggart class, when you got a werewolf, all the boys had tensed up, even the way Lily had approached you, constantly looking back and forth between him and you. 

You looked up at him, Remus looked tired, Remus had a great sense of smell, Remus got a lot more irritable around this time of the month, Remus was ripped even if he didn’t look like the type to do much exercise, in fact, you’d never seen him do exercise. Remus Bogart had been the moon. Remus was right in front of you, looking like he’d been up all night and yesterday was full moon. 

Remus’ nickname… Remus’ nickname was fucking Moony! 

YESTERDAY WAS FULL MOON. 

Finally seeing clearly every single thing that didn’t make sense in your head, all the half-told tales and the lies and the inconsistencies, “You’re a werewolf…” you mumbled, almost in a whisper. 

He had been too distraught with the book to notice, so he looked up at you “Sorry, what was that, luv?” 

Your head started swirling with fast thoughts, Remus hadn’t told you himself. Remus probably wanted his lycanthropy to be a secret. Remus had gone to great lengths to hide it. You’d barely met him a couple of months ago and you were sure most people didn’t know about his condition, other than a few teachers, the boys and, maybe Lily. She probably knows, in the bogart class, she seemed alarmed. But Marlene, Mary, Beth? They probably have no clue. What right did you have to know before the people who’d met him years ago? Whoever the hell were you to butt in on this boy’s life? Even if he’d become one of your closest friends. I do not want to make Remus uncomfortable. I do not want Remus to hate me for prying. “I.. uh.. Do you like golf?” You improvised, almost cringing at yourself for how stupid your question had been. 

“Golf?” He asked with a frown.

“Aha…” you continued “the muggle sport, Golf. With uhm.. sticks and small balls,” you then made a little golf swing with your hands. 

“Yeah, I know Golf,” he responded, still confused “Never played it tho.” 

“Me neither,” you responded honestly “This character though,” you pointed to the book “Seems like- very obsessed with it.” 

Remus frowned and leaned forward on the bed, to try and get a glimpse of the book, you remembered that you were literally on the page about the scars on the werewolf’s body and you instantly dropped the book. It closed shut on the floor. You leaned down “Oh no, I lost my page.” Maybe you were a worse liar than Tom in the end. 

Remus arched an eyebrow as he saw you leaning on the floor, you looked rather desperate. 

“You okay?” You nodded and sat back on the chair. “So… how was it? spicy?” 

“Not much so far,” you responded honestly “just very in-depth descriptions of the male lead’s toned abdomen from the time they went to swim on a lake together.” 

Remus nodded, maybe he’d have to borrow the book from you at some point. “And you’re liking it?” 

“Plot’s good, yeah. Very enlightening.” 

“Enlightening?” He asked, not quite understanding how abs would be enlightening, but who knows, maybe they are. 

“Mhm…” you said when you realised the slip-up “What about your book?” you decided to drag the subject away from the spicy werewolf book and onto the one Remus had instead. 

“I’m loving it, actually. I didn’t know you had such great taste in books.” 

You smiled at the compliment “The portrait of Dorian Gray is an absolute classic, it has some of the most killer quotes I’ve read in my life.” 

“Nowadays people know the price of everything–“ he started.

“–and value nothing…” you finished the quote for him, “And there are so many others, you won’t be able to stop.” You told him with a smile, “Like… the only way to get rid of temptation, is–“ 

“–to yield to it.” He said at the same time as you did, a certain glimmer in his eyes when he did. 

Out if nowhere the images of the kiss you’d had at Marlene’s party came back to Remus, he remembered how soft and gentle you’d been, he remembered how your hand over his shoulder had felt, how kind your lips had been to his, how you’d tasted of fresh berries and potions, how after the kiss was over you looked genuinely pleased but cracked a joke to ease the tension, how contagious your laugh had been… how sweet you smelled that day, always with a hint of Sirius’ scent from how close you were to each other. What the hell is wrong with me? She’s dating Sirius! She’s dating Sirius –my crush best friend– Black, he thought. He snapped himself out of it as soon as he could, coughing up a couple of times to clear his throat. 

You looked at him, with a bit of concern and stood up, quickly walking towards the nightstand to pour some water on a glass and hand it over to him, he took it, fingers brushing against your small hands. He cursed himself for feeling something when they did, he’d rather feel nothing at all. Why must you be so kind?, he thought as you waited for him to finish drinking, to put the glass back in his place.  “Thank you,” he mumbled. 

You just smiled kindly “That’s what friends are for.” No, he thought, the boys were rarely as attentive as you were, and Lily, well Lily rarely visited after the full moon, even if she always took a moment to ask if he was feeling alright. Maybe that was why he was feeling so weird all of a sudden, he just wasn’t used to being cared for the way you cared for him. He then started to wonder if you were that nice to everyone, or only to your closest friends, he wanted to know if you also carried around Peter’s or Prong’s favourite treats in your bag, or if you had ever given chocolate to Tom, Alex or Teddy, if you borrowed books to Lily, or if you laughed along Nina the same way you did with him, he felt a tiny pang of jealousy when he imagined those things happening. Remus, stop it! he told himself, by then you’d already sat back in your seat, and found yourself engrossed in your book. Or at least you were pretending to be, in really you were still cursing yourself for asking if he liked golf. 

When you noticed he was staring you turned to him with a diverted smile “Do I have something in my face?” 

He seemed to be snapped out of his own thoughts “What?” 

“You were staring,” you told him, pretending to be uninterested as you still looked at the book, in reality, you were wondering if maybe he’d heard you ask if he was a werewolf and if he was considering how to kick you out of his life for butting in on his private business. 

“Ah…” he acknowledged “I wasn’t…. I was thinking of last night’s accident,” he lied. 

“Of course,” you responded, “Grindylows must’ve  been horrifying.” 

He nodded, absentmindedly and the two returned to your respective books. 

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

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[charmedreincarnation]

How am I supposed to deal with anti-shifters and people literally calling shifting a mental illness? I know it’s real, and it's baffling how some people want me to confine myself to a reality that doesn’t serve me. It’s like they can't comprehend that our realities can be fluid and personal. And don't even get me started on the pretentious, usually well-off, white shifter content creators who make videos about how perma-shifters are selfish. It's as if they can't see past their privilege and understand the deeper connections and meanings behind shifting. I sometimes wish I could permanently delete this account from existence because it's just so frustrating to navigate through all this negativity and misunderstanding. I know now I’m in a world filled with possibilities, and yet some choose to limit themselves and impose those limits on others. I can be happy one day, truly happy one day and jt makes me angry that it makes some people mad I believe I can wake up in a new world with wealth and money and a family that doesn’t abuse me and visit my favorite movies. Im not hurting anyone

Not trying to be mean because I get it and went through this as well, but some of you are addicted to arguing and stirring things up. Some people become complicit in their own suffering because you don’t have to consume that type of content! you can avoid it if you train your algorithm hard enough.

If there’s one thing you can learn from religious people, it’s their “I’ll pray for you” mentality. If someone doesn’t believe in God, they just say they’ll pray for you so you don’t got to hell or whatever

When you encounter anti-shifters, just hope that one day they open their minds and discover there's more to the world than meets the eye. If they never choose to do so, it doesn’t affect your journey. One thing YOU SHOULD NOT take from religious people is making shifting your entire identity. Yes, it’s part of who you are, but it's not everything. When you don’t believe in God, some religious people become upset because religion is their identity, not just a belief system. Shifting and the loa are similar in that way—if you’re secure in your journey, would you really care if others believe or not?

You can block them and move on, but I know that’s easier said than done. It makes you angry because you’ve made it your identity instead of just an inherent way of life. Everyone shifts, even anti-shifters, so whether they believe in it or not doesn’t matter.

They’re like flat-earthers to me—I just roll my eyes and move on. It shouldn’t take a toll on your inherent being or mental health. If it does, take a step back. Stop diving into communities you know will make you angry. You don’t have to drag ShiftTok drama to Tumblr or rant about them. Avoid reblogging blogs that share misinformation and arguing with them. You don’t have to share YouTubers who think perma-shifters are delusional or self-harming.

Really sit down and think: if you genuinely believe in shifting and believe you can do it, would you go around trying to prove it to those with no interest in it? Are you trying to convince them or yourself? Don’t tie shifting or anything spiritual to your worth or identity. It’s just your inherent being. Everyone is God in their own right, whether they recognize it or not. It’s not your job to force enlightenment on others. Focus on yourself, use the block button, and defend yourself when attacked without meaning but if there’s no progress in the conversation, still use that block button. Stop entering spaces you don’t agree with.

LOA vs ND, be states vs A and P—some of you guys genuinely just want to live out your high school clique fantasies on Tumblr. Stop arguing and do your own thing. Engage in the free will you have and stop turning spirituality into pretentious Reddit philosophy echo chambers of people who have lost sight of the teachings. This isn’t politics no one focused on their journey and life cares okay; no one cares. It’s should be very fun, engaging and simple—just remembering who you are. I know humans love labels and categorizing because we’re so diverse and versatile and three-dimensional, and sometimes that’s a lot so we want to find our “place” but your own label and true essence and limitless. take a deep breath, close your laptop, and remember you already know who you are.

I totally get that shifting has been life-changing for us, especially when so many of us have come from really challenging backgrounds. It can be incredibly disheartening to see someone tearing apart something that gives you hope. That’s why I find it frustrating when people casually say, "The only thing you have to lose is trying." Hope is a huge factor when you feel like you’ve got nothing else, and the belief that something can save you is incredibly powerful. You work tirelessly, holding onto hope despite facing the same difficulties that dragged you into a tough mental state and life situation in the first place—that's disheartening, and I’m not trying to downplay that at all.

But when you truly realize it’s going to happen, and when it finally does, you won’t even care about the naysayers. I’ve been there, looking back and realigning my thoughts, thinking about all those times others doubted everything. They argued and criticized, but in the end, their opinions won’t matter. It’s about that personal journey and the shift within yourself, the kind of change that makes all the worth it, because when you get past all that useless noise, it’s just you and the incredible things that you did that matter. This is your life so make the most of it.

[lethalchiralium]

You should totally not write a part two to Missus dying during birth. Where it's set month later??? Years later??? 😏😉😏

I mean the double angst would be just to much to bare! 😏😉😏

(No.... because side note I'm living for your GIRL DAD SIMON 😭🫶)

oh so you guys are EVIL evil. i partially wrote some of this way back, i was playing with the thought of her death but decided against it. this did get me in the mood to write for ACTUAL happiness, so watch out for that lol

warnings: alcoholism, grief.

happiness au!

Simon found that could never hold anger like he used to. It dissipates as quickly as it festers, he tried so hard to find something to be angry at over your death. He couldn’t be angry at Roach, he was with you in his place. He couldn’t be angry at Price, he was doing his job. He couldn’t be angry at you because you had done the best you could to get in touch with him. You nurtured his children, one sprinting around and one in your once warm belly.

He held his hand over WInnie’s eyes at the end of the funeral, little Mellie asleep in his arm yet still angling her away from the scene - he couldn’t bear to have his daughters watch their mother be lowered into the ground.

He did discover that alcohol makes the incredible pain disappear just a little.

In the month after your death, it was a cycle for Simon and Price to keep Winnie and Mellie afloat while he destroyed himself as they slept soundly. Drinking himself into a stupor and collapsing on his bedroom floor; his hazed mind forcing him to spread out on the hardwood, telling himself he didn’t deserve to sleep in a bed. In your bed. And despite the dozens of pounds he wasted on alcohol for that first month, the thought of you could never quite escape his mind.

You left nothing to direct him, nothing to guide him. Just hazy memories of your smile, dim visions of the way your skin touched his, faint pulses on his lips of what used to be your heartbeat. You had nothing away, no letters or little notes in any nook and cranny of his home - he checked drunk, he checked sober. He wanted to slam his hand into the wall that morning, hungover and wanting to scream - but his little baby Mellie babbled on his bed, little fingers dug into her stuffed dog, completely unaware of the myriad of emotions painted on the walls. It was like Simon had exploded, his emotions were everywhere.

And after one horrible night, Simon found himself on the floor of his room again. But he wasn’t alone - under his blanketed arm and curled into his side was Winnie, her green bear tucked into her own chest. His heart broke again at that, and even with the intense hangover, he picked up his daughter. He took the few steps back to sit on his bed, her gentle eyes slowly fluttering open.

“Do you wanna sleep up here, lovie?” He asked her, trying to keep his voice even as his head pounded.

“Just wanna make sure you’re okay.” His daughter mumbled, one hand wiping one of her eyes as she looked up at him. That made his heart burn like it had been doused in oil and set aflame. He crawled into the bed that hasn’t known warmth since you died, tucking in his four year old and keeping her close to his chest.

“Dad’s gonna be okay.” He whispered to his daughter, tears spilling from his eyes. “I promise.”

After that early morning, Simon stopped drinking and stayed sober for years afterwards. He was proud of himself for that seemingly small feat, but he was still devastated by the loss of you, he felt it every single day since. Teaching Mellie to walk, to talk, and to run were the first times Simon felt your loss again - he cried tears each time, knowing that it should have been you and him teaching your daughter these things. That you and him should have been teaching your children how to ride a bike, help them with their stupid math homework, help them navigate life.

But it was just Simon, trying to fill your shoes that he never had the heart to move from the front door.

He had tried to quit the 141 when you passed, but Price wouldn’t let him. Keeping him on desk duty meant Simon still got incredible pay and benefits, it meant Simon could take baby Mellie with him to base, it meant he could make it home before his kids got off of school when they were older. He never gave his all to the military again.

He had to learn all about periods when Winnie was twelve so he could help her as best he could. He had to learn all about her friends, then Mellie’s friends - he felt that time was always going too fast. He comforted his children through the loss of their beloved cat. He met boyfriends and girlfriends before his daughters finally fled the nest, leaving him alone for the first time in 22 years.

The month after he was left alone again, he opened a bottle of bourbon. He felt the pain creep back into his skin, he needed relief. He needed to not know what pain was. He’d drink when he was alone. He wouldn’t dare to have a drop when his children were around, when his grandkids were ever in his home. But when he was alone? It seemed just a glass of three fingers turned into a bottle, sleeping a couple hours turned into twenty, three missed calls from Mellie and a seven texts from Winnie - all asking if he was alright, that his constant sleeping was making them nervous.

One day, Simon tried to open his nightstand to find his ID tags, he was drunk the night before and woke up without them. He never slept without them, it was his way of comforting himself with something he’s had almost all his life. The nightstand’s drawer wouldn’t budge, wouldn’t pull open. He reached his hand underneath the drawer to try and dislodge whatever was keeping it from opening - a letter falls into his hand. He grew confused, there is no address or writing on the front - it’s obviously old too. He opened the envelope, seeing a date written on the lip in handwriting he’s wished to read for decades.

The day before Mellie’s birth was written clearly.

He ripped the paper from the envelope and fell to his knees, a photo of you in the hospital floated to the floor as he reads the letter. The last picture of you ever taken, one that came from that little polaroid camera he bought you before he left his whole family for the last time.

You didn’t leave him without direction. He just didn’t know where to look.

i love all the happiness asks so much that the new happiness chapter will be coming very soon

Copyright © 2023 lethalchiralium. All rights reserved.

[uyuforu]

Jungkook's Juno in his Natal Chart

Juno (3) is an asteroid discovered in 1804 by Karl Ludwig Harding. It represents another part of the person we will marry as it represents destined partner, our soulmate, "the one" for us. Briede & Groom asteroids are more about just the FS. But Juno has a more destiny message, more of a spiritual link. To see moe about this person, looking at our Juno Persona Chart is recommended!

Juno Leo

-> This man will marry someone with Leo placements. In the big 3 or at least in the big 6. Juno Leo means that he will marry someone who will be famous at some point. He will look at her, and she will just be the most beautiful woman he has ever seen. She will be the sun to him, he will not be able to look at anything else. He will just radiate around her. He will be obsessed with her, but he will need her to be obsessed with him at some point. She is warm, have a beautiful laugh and smile, hair are very good looking, more on the wavy, curly hair. Thick hair. It can make the FS also bright and very charismatic. She can be popular. And people just love her. She might feel like the main character most of the times. She can be lucky in any occasions. It means love at first sight too, for both of them. Like in the movies type of love! This placement makes him want to be chased, to feel like his FS will literally fall on her knees when she sees him, yet it will be his reaction lmao. An intense connection when they meet, he will just know she is the one. He will absolutely adore her, and she will too. He will see her as perfect, and she will keep thinking "how come he chose me?? am I that lucky??". Just a couple who will be obsessed with each other and be their biggest fan lmao. A power couple. Basically: Jk will marry someone who will give him the love he always desired to give, meaning a huge love. He will commit himself 3000% as she will, and they will love that. It will literally make him feel so in love, he will feel like he is back alive.

Juno 8H

-> She will bring a lot of change in his life, literally nothing will be the same after her. JK's rebirth. He will meet her at a moment something important in his life is ending, and a new era is starting. It can also be at a moment he is going though a major changement, that he likes it or not. Instant attractiveness, a lot of passion towards each other, and could even be instant s3xual attraction, JK will think she is the hottest girl he has ever seen, very sexy. She could appear cold like, someone who looks very distant, etc. Could wear a lot of dark and black. Looks intimidating. But someone who warms up when you talk to her. Meeting her at night, or somewhere hidden, somewhere where nobody else see. Emotional bond, spiritual bond.

Juno 21°

-> Love at first sight, loving them from the first time he laid eyes on her. Absolutely loving her vibe since the first moment. He will think she is very funny and very smart. So someone smart, funny, open-minded. Another sign she could be a foreigner. He will think she is very unique and outstanding. She is literally very different, and doesn't even try. Someone he can and will admire, he will feel like she can teach him a lot of things.

Thank you for reading!

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[marinettesaltprompts]

Cat in the Belfry (Part 2)

Adrien x Gotham City Sirens

Prompt by @somereaderinblue

Harley wonders if somehow, there’s something in Paris’s water that’s stronger than the literal toxic soup running through Gotham’s pipes. Like, she’s pretty sure the principal skipped 80% of protocol when he chose to hire her as the new counselor. Then again, that’s probably how Bustier got her job, nevermind that she’s more suited to teach kindergarteners.

Bustier is all too eager to preach about her perfect class & model students. When Harley meets them however, ooooh boy. It’s no wonder most of them have gotten akumatized. She meets Marinette, who takes the chance to rant abt Lila, the class’s ingratitude & Adrien’s betrayal. When Harley tries to poke holes (i.e. how Mari tried to call a witch hunt everyone understandably balks at & how she never told Adrien abt the threats), Mari throws her hands up & storms out, fed up that another adult ‘failed her’.

Red flags raised, Harley is shocked to see Lila practically molesting Adrien & once, swore she saw Mari look through a trash bin Adrien used. She asked his help to do a little test & yup, somehow, Mari knew abt Adrien’s private schedule. Adrien talks to Nino, who talks to Alya, who confirms the extent of Mari’s stalking. Needless to say, both boys are horrified & after lots of much-needed heart to hearts, Adrien tells them the truth abt Lila & Alya sees the error of her ways.

She & Nino try to apologize to Mari but she refuses to accept them bzc teenage impulsivity is clearly an unforgivable crime. Slowly, Adrien reaches out to the other classmates to help them see the light. They’re angry & hurt but he convinces them to apologize to Mari privately and ignore Lila, which for a pathological attention seeker, is punishment enough.

Mari shuns their apologies, wanting them to grovel some more & Lila is left to stew. The Italian’s reign goes out with a whimper as Adrien simply contacts her mom, mentions Lila’s lies & she’s transferred to a strict boarding school in Italy.

Adrien would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy being sneaky.

But yeah, Mari is shocked when the class doesn’t come crawling back to her for forgiveness. They point out that they already said sorry but she chose to stew in her grudges & isolate herself. When she plays the victim card, they call her out, asking if all her ‘kindness’ were bribes to turn them into sheep. She has no response to that.

As LB, things get complicated. The mayor is panicking as Selina steals from the corrupt elite & discovers a lot of juicy blackmail. LB promises to help. CN confronts Selina abt it & rather than get angry, she’s amused.

She takes him to see the nitty-gritties of Paris. Opens his eyes to human trafficking, the homeless, the poor & the corruption and lies. Gives him some hard nuanced lessons that pushes him to act instead of react, patrolling in neglected areas & always checking up on past victims. He feeds the strays with Catwoman, Ivy helps him with a bio project & Harley teaches him how to dye his hair green.

One day, LB swoops in while Catwoman is doing a robbery. CN also shows up to defend her. He tries to explain that he hired her to help. LB is enraged that he made such a decision without her input & is defending a criminal.

CN: Are you any closer to finding out who Hawkmoth is?!

LB: I’m trying my best! All I have are Fu’s notes!

CN: Are you?! Were you & Fu trying to find Hawkmoth or is he just teaching you how to be a ‘better Guardian’? I didn’t have his teaching or his notes but at least I’m actually trying to do something about it.

LB: Do you think being a Guardian’s a game?!

CN: I think it’s a second priority to stopping Hawkmoth! Maybe becoming the Guardian will help us stop his akumas but it won’t. End. The status quo. We need to go for the head.

LB: And we do that with the help of a criminal?!

CN: This ‘criminal’ is a better hero & a better friend than you are!

Everyone is stunned by that statement. But it’s true. CN wouldn’t go as far as to call Selina a maternal figure, but her, Harley & Ivy are the cool wine aunts he’s never had. 

LB glares at CN & though he has the power of destruction, she’s the one who decides to land the final blow.

“Traitor.”

The next morning, LB goes on TV & tells everyone that CN is now a criminal.

[yournowheregirl]

omg thank you all for the overwhelming response to part 1 of secret-dolly-parton-fan eddie munson! here’s a part two as a little treat

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [part 6 + complete on ao3]

part 2: here you come again

Ever since he discovered the Off-Road a few weeks ago, Eddie’s been going there almost every week but he hadn’t joined the open-mic night since that first night. He didn’t really feel the need to, because despite his own belief, he has actually managed to move on from his idiotic crush on Steve.

Well, almost.

Eddie had sworn off his crush once Steve announced that he and Emily were going on their third date. Steve was smiling from ear to ear when he said it too, though that usual sparkle in his eyes had remained absent. Eddie didn’t think too much of it, too busy wallowing in self-pity and cursing himself for setting himself up for heartbreak once again. 

So, he moved on. Went to Indianapolis once or twice, found guys with striped polos and bright smiles who tried their best to take his mind off Steve (which, due to their eerily resemblance, didn’t really work out). Focused on helping Will with his new campaign for Hellfire, teaching him the DM tricks he had learned over the years. Played with his band until his fingers almost started to bleed from strumming the guitar strings a little too hard. 

And it worked. Everything’s all fine and dandy, Steve’s barely on his mind anymore (except for all the times that he is) and Eddie’s just over him. One hundred percent. Done. No more Steve Harrington for him, thank you very much. 

“Emily and I broke things off.”

Eddie almost drops the two bottles of beer he’s holding, stops dead in his tracks in the middle of the spacious kitchen of the Harrington home.

“Sorry, what?” Eddie asks because there is no way in hell he heard that right.

“Me and Emily.” Steve repeats, snatching one of the beer bottles out of Eddie’s hand and taking a long swig, his Adam’s apple bopping up and down. His mouth is glistening when he sets the bottle down and Eddie’s eyes zero in on them and - dear lord, get ahold of yourself, Munson. “We broke up. Turns out she wasn’t the one after all.”

“Oh shit. Sorry about that, man.” Eddie says, trying to keep his voice under control because he should not be jumping for joy that Steve and Emily broke up. No matter how much he wants to. He should also not be fishing for more details, but curiosity gets the best of him and the next thing he knows he asking, “Why’d you guys break up anyway? I thought you said you were crazy for her.”

“I mean, I was. Sorta, but not really, I think. Don’t get me wrong, I liked her and she really is a lovely person, ridiculously pretty too but… she and I just want different things.” Steve shrugs. “She always wants to go out, be somewhere, see something, go on wild adventures every weekend and shit. And I don’t know… I mean I like that, but I also want to sit back and do nothing for a bit y’know? Just simple, easy, like what we’re doing tonight.”

Steve bumps their shoulders together and Eddie tries his very best to ignore how Steve feels so warm, even for that short moment. He tries even harder not too read too much into Steve’s words, which means he’s definitely not thinking that Steve would rather spend time with him than with the supposed girl of his dreams. 

Except when, a couple of beers later, Eddie finds himself a little too tipsy to stop himself from once again, falling for Steve like a ton of bricks. 

But it’s not his fault that Steve’s eyes turn this magical color hazel underneath the warm lights of the living room chandelier. Or that his cheeks are this beautiful shade of pink from the alcohol in his system. Or that Steve’s laugh after Eddie tells the world’s lamest joke, is probably one of his favorite sounds in the world.

Oh, this is bad. This is really fucking bad.

Steve slouches against him when his laughter dies down, resting his head on Eddie’s shoulder, all relaxed and warm. “I wish it was always this easy.”

“What?” Eddie asks. He’s surprised at how level his voice is considering Steve’s plastered against him like a vine that climbs up alongside a wall. 

“I don’t know. Life, dating, anything really.” Steve sighs. “Nothing feels as easy as when I’m with you.”

Eddie feels his throat tighten at Steve’s confession. Not because he doesn’t feel the same. It’s the opposite, really. Everything really does feel a little easier when Steve’s around. 

Everything, except this annoying crush that keeps coming back like a goddamn boomerang

“You’re drunk.” Eddie tries to laugh it off, hoping that it’ll make the heavy feeling in his stomach go away.

“I mean it, y’know.” Steve mutters. He rubs his cheek against Eddie’s shoulder and moves in just a little closer. Sighing happily once he finds a comfortable position. “You smell nice.”

Eddie knows for a fact he does not, it’s probably leftover weed smell, but his face still heats up at the compliment. “Let’s just… let’s just watch the movie okay?”

“Hmm, okay.” Steve hums, his eyes drooping already and Eddie just knows he’s gonna fall asleep within minutes. 

-xxx-

Steve’s words keep echoing through his mind the next few days and Eddie’s feeling more restless than usual - if that’s even possible - and on Wednesday night, he drives off to the Off-Road again. 

The drive itself calms him down just a little but as soon as he sits down at Pat’s bar, the feeling of dread washes over him once again. Not even the soft June Carter song that’s playing in the background is able to cheer him up right now.

“Geez Ed, you look madder than a wet hen” Pat says as she puts down Eddie’s drink on the bar. “Tell ol’ Pat here what’s going on.”

“Fuckin’ straight boys.” Eddie mutters, leaning his head on his hands. He’s moping and he knows it, but he really doesn’t give two shits right now.

Pat blinks at him. “You been fucking them or is this more like a fuck them straight boys situation? I’m only equipped for the latter one.”

Somehow, Pat’s piercing green eyes stare right into his soul and before he knows it, Eddie’s just spilling everything. “There… there’s this guy, y’know. He’s my friend.”

“Let me guess? Handsome?”

“Like a fuckin’ Greek God. It’s ridiculous.” Eddie rolls his eyes. “But it’s more than that. He’s also just… so nice. Seriously, he drives our friends around and let me host D&D campaigns at his house and he asks nothing in return. Great cook too, his brownies are to die for.”

“Sounds like a damn dreamboat. But he’s straight?” Pat sighs sympathetically.

“The straightest man you’ve ever seen.” Eddie grumbles. “And it’s fine, alright? I know it’s never gonna happen between us. But he just broke up with the girl he’s been seeing for the last month or so and then suddenly goes around tellin’ me shit like how much he likes being with me. How easy it is when we're together. What the fuck am I supposed to do with that? That’s just…”

“Real fucking frustrating.” Tish adds as she passes by with a tray of drinks in her hands. 

Eddie couldn’t have said it better himself. He takes a sip of his Coke, desperately wishing it was something stronger, and patiently waits before Pat speaks up again.

“I think you gotta put some distance between the two of you.” Pat says solemnly. “Now hear me out because it ain’t gonna be pretty, but sometimes you gotta take a step back to protect your own heart. And if you don’t wanna go that far, I suggest finding a healthy outlet to process your feelings because sulking like this ain’t doing you any good, kiddo.”

“And how do you suppose I do that?” Eddie rolls his eyes. “Do I look like I got the money to go to some expensive shrink?”

“Dunno, maybe some musical therapy?” Pat grins, her eyes darting back to the acoustic guitar on the wall. “You said it worked so well for you last time.”

Pat’s right. He did feel a lot better after playing Jolene the other night, it was like Dolly put all the things he was feeling right into a song. Maybe she could do the same for him now, because Eddie knows exactly what other song in her repertoire fits the situation.

He walks up to the podium once again, not even bothering to introduce himself this time because most of the patrons know him by now. He’s a little more unfamiliar with the chords this time around so it takes him a few tries before he finally gets it and the melody starts filling up the room. 

“Here you come again. Just when I’ve begun to get myself together. You waltz right in the door, just like you’ve done before. And wrap my heart ‘round your little finger.”

It’s like Dolly’s been reading his thoughts these last few days because every single word just rings true in Eddie’s mind. Well, except that part about Steve’s little fingers because they are anything but little. Eddie knows, he’s spent the better half of their friendship staring at them and daydreaming about things that should never see the light of day. 

“Here you come again. Just when I’m about to make it work without you. You look into my eyes and light those pretty eyes and pretty soon I’m wonderin’ how I came to doubt you.”

God, he’s so frustrated now. Steve probably doesn’t even know what he’s doing to Eddie and it’s so fucking unfair. How the hell is he supposed to move on when Steve keeps saying shit like that? When Steve continues to be a, in Pat’s words, a damn dreamboat?

Eddie strums the guitar a little harder, his voice becoming a little rougher. Almost like he’s spitting out the words

“All you gotta do, is smile that smile, and there go all my defenses. Just leave it up to you and in a little while, you’re messing up my mind and filling up my senses.”

The handful of people in the crowd are softly singing along, but it’s not like Eddie actually has eyes for them. His mind is solely focused on keeping his voice level, rather than start screaming. Maybe Corroded Coffin should do a cover of this song, should be a fun surprise for those drunkards at the Hideout.

“Here you come again and here I go…” Eddie finishes the song. He thanks the audience and slouches back into his seat at the bar, not feeling as good as he did the last time he performed here. It doesn’t feel as cathartic this time and instead there’s a hole inside his heart that no Dolly song can possibly fill.

“Feeling better honey?” Tish asks sweetly as she puts another bottle of Coke on the bar for him.

Eddie nods, even though it’s obviously a lie. Another wave of dread and restlessness washes over him. Because if he can’t turn to his mother’s favorite artist for guidance anymore, then what the hell is he supposed to do to get over his stupid crush on Steve Harrington?

Tag list: @henderdads @solosnail @unclewaynemunson @legitcookie @gothbat99 (hmu if you wanna be added to the list for pt 3!)

[kayakoto-enterprises]

A White and Soundless Place

Freeform I dreamt of. Lola loves horrible people. The things you do for love are gonna come back to you one by one.

Cw: implied child abuse, choking, general BTTWNS trigger warnings.

People...harbor secrets. They carry with them the burden of being. Expectations, dreams, desires, and maybe even impure impulses. They carry ancient history, living a life perhaps they never chose. I could tell that you live a lost life. But it's alright. You're quite young. There's a lot to discover later in the road. Some people may grow out of their careers and succeed in other jobs. Some people will pick up hobbies at, let's say, 45 that gives them meaning. Do you have a hobby?

Art? That's quite wonderful. You formally studied for it?

Ah, that makes sense. You teach at the elementary? Taught. Of course, of course. That's sweet. Oh I must be romanticizing the description, that's all.

My son was keen on art too, you know. He studied to be..what was it...he was going to be an architect..halfway through his stay he picked up photography. He bought a camera from his classmate and worked extra hard to improve his craft. I was so proud of him.

If only I had..said anything..would that have made him feel better? Lessen the blow?

No...he..he couldn't. Neither him nor my husband would've been so kind to the idea..

Hm? Yes, I'm just hurting a bit here, dear. I guess it's quite obvious. Every now and then I feel the stab wounds grow deeper. I may still feel the knife lunged into them.

I was just thinking of my best friend. Her secrets.

Did you know?

I'm sorry, honey. I guess that's why you're here with me. It's not...it's not your fault.

I should have told him. Maybe he'd..find a better subject.. I still think he would have continued anyway. There's really nothing I could have done.

When Sam came out to me as a lesbian I was nothing but supportive. I was happy that she found that part of herself and I was more than understanding when she said that meant there would be no family to continue..maybe she'd call up distant cousins to take over for her after she passes. But at that time even if she got to say that with her whole chest, I think she understood that a part of her was still missing. It was empty and purposeless.

That had to do with how her parents treated her. I've seen and heard it. They were so constricting. She was so shaken up by how militant they could get that there definitely wasn't a point in taking up medicine. I believe she said she wanted to be a doctor...

So, when she told me, I was relieved that she found a truth in herself but her eyes were still so empty. So hopeless. She's been in that cage for most of her life and was dreading returning home from her trip because there's nothing left to do but continue her parents' legacy.

I understand how...burdensome it is. To start a clean slate and gain respect again. It's a long story. Most of us forgot what her grandparents' parents have done, honestly, but there are still a few who hold grudges. I'm sure you'll see one here.

Then she returned home two or three years later. I picked her up at Centerville when the bus came back from the airport. She looked so happy! It was like a burden had been lifted from her shoulders. Like the worry or uncertainty left her like a ghost. At the time, she told me that being outdoors put her life into perspective. There truly is no place like home.

We came back and I invited her home for dinner. I also introduced my son. He was only a few months old. I said that if she wasn't going to have a family, she could be part of ours. He was so tiny! He perfectly fit on the palm of her hand.

That day forward we lived close to one another like life was when we were children. Like the dreams she once had weren't beaten out of her. It was pure. My arms were always open for her to come cry into again. She never opened up emotionally to me again after that. I couldn't feel the distance. The disconnect. I assumed and assumed she was just getting better.

I loved Samantha. Almost like she was my own daughter too. Watching her grow soulless and knowing where that path led was painful. I wish I could have done something. I knew I could have done anything at least for Nigel to not end up the same way she did.

His father planted those obsessions and impulses inside him. He gave him those ideas. I would have pulled away harder but a thimble little mouse couldn't do much damage, right? But I wish I told him I loved him more. Told him that there are just some people or ideas you cannot cage. Not when it's lived in a cage and only broke free after.

He became wild with obsession. So I knew and I never did anything.

You knew too? How?

.

Alright, dear. I'll go first.

I was washing one of his coats when multiple photos fell out of the inner lining. He returned from a city trip with some friends and I was horrified to see what were on those films. A sequential set of Samantha choking a man. Then hanging him. Then his body was divided into multiple cuts. I didn't want to imagine what else she did. I kept my mouth shut. I put the coat back into the washer and stuffed the photos into the pocket when they came out.

I wondered about those images for months. I thought that those were flashes of an old nightmare I had until..two years ago when my son returned home to take care of me. I had forgotten about the photographs..and then more appeared in his jackets and pants and shirts..multiple images of my friend taking lives or alone in her house or around town. In different angles, varying in quality, and she was completely unaware. There were my warning signs but at that point I had given up hope that I could meaningfully change them.

I prayed continuously that maybe God could guide them into talking it out. That we could return to living happily like a family again. It just continued to spiral.

No, don't worry dearest, I..I'm okay now. Ah, thank you for the napkin. I appreciate it.

I loved Samantha. We'd known each other for fourty years. I knew everything. She knew everything. I just understood why she would do such a thing. I didn't understand why Nigel would do such a thing.

So when the time came for me to go, I just accepted the fate I was about to endure. I was hurt. I was hurt, of course, but I was already dying. I just let her do it to me because I trusted that she would find some other way, another resolution with Nigel even if I was cut from the picture. I just continued to see her as my closest, dearest friend as she repeatedly struck the knife into my chest. I was dreaming that heaven would bring me a vision of the three of us having a picnic just like we did on Nigel's 8th birthday.

I don't hate her for it. I just wish there was a happier ending.

Oh, oh no, did I say something wrong?

Darling, shhh..shhh..I didn't mean to make you cry. What is it? Oh..

Oh, no, no..it's okay..

I know..I know..I don't understand everything that happened but you look clean.

She never hit you or raised a finger or did anything remarkably damaging. It doesn't change that..the same thing also happened.

You have no wounds..oh, right there? On your neck?

Oh, the throat..

I'm not sure what would help you feel better now that we're here. But I believe that the people we meet and the people we love also loved us back. What she did to you of course is sick. I couldn't take the betrayal away from you. But I like to believe that we were precious to her. So...valuable.

She loved you. From what you've said about how things began. She never got to experience that kind of young love and you're blessed to experience it with her. I'm sure that's fond to her too. But people feel it in different intensities. Maybe instead of no love at all, she loved her freedom too much. Too much it suffocates. She's been caged her entire youth so when she finds something she wants, she takes it now that she has that power. And she loved what she took anyway.

I just hope you understand that no matter how horrible someone is, anyone, anything can continue to hold their hand with affection. I'm sure you did as much as I.

We loved well.

[faeryarchives]

it's not me, it was my inner demons

gn!reader x dorm leaders (part two) - kalim al asim, vil schoenheit, idia shroud & malleus draconia

it's just your typical hangout with your lover, but then you suddenly decide to act on your thoughts out of the blue.

dorm leaders part 1. || vice dorm leaders part 1 (soon)

note: I JUST FOUND OUT LIONS DO NOT PURR 😭 thank u for @lavenderr-starrs for telling me ueueue but yes let's just imagine they do just for leona

✰ kalim al asim - captivating eyes

i know his eyes are closed in the picture but his garnet-red eyes seems to always pull you in every time he would invite you to go with him doing something

riding magic carpet with him? sure! building a water park behind ramshackle dorm? no problem! burning the school kit-

yes its hard to say no to him 🥹

like him doing the blink blink blink then all your arguments are gone because there is not a thought behind those beautiful eyes 🥺

"ok for my new year's resolution is to be able to fight my hardest battles." not a minute after, kalim's head popped out out of the corner of your eye - seeing you standing still, the dorm leader revealed himself and start to run towards you.

"(naaaaaaaaame) ~ !"

"hi kalim ~ and no i won't be able to hangout at scarabia today, i have a quiz tomorrow in music!" you can feel your boyfriend grabbing a hold of your arm from behind. kalim let out a wail, turning you around to face him to see him eye to eye.

"then i'll teach you instead! you know my best subject is music, pleaaaaase." you stared at each other, (eye color) eyes clashing with garnet-red ones. and are those sparkles around kalim's head?

'you know what, there is always next year.' sighing in defeat, you linked your arms with him as the two of you walked back to he scarabia dorm.

you two did study real! it lasted for an hour 🤓 but he is a good teacher though with the sound effects

there is not a day where you do not cheer up when seeing kalim looking at you with much love and care in those eyes

yes his eyes are the prettiest imo 🫡😤 wait what if i create a poll for that omg?

✰ vil schoenheit - their existence + debates

i did not lie ok !! vil's entire existence just gives me beautiful and elegant vibes 😫

and the effort vil put in his routine? get a notebook ou and take down notes because its a real deal!

its not like you act on your thoughts - it is more like vil can read your thoughts - staring at their hair? sit down, vil would gladly style yours. talking about their nails? they would teach you how to do it.

"potato, you are spacing out again. what is on your mind?"

"how come you always know what i am thinking? i can't even surprise you!" vil chuckled before giving you a peck on the forehead.

"you are just like an open book." and that is one of the things vil find so peculiar about you. rather than keeping anything hidden, even though you tried, you would still be see through.

"don't worry about surprising me with something. because you already are with your interesting choice of everyday topics."

the interesting topics in question are - is cereal soup? what would riddle feel when he is given a riddle? if you have described something as indescribable, haven’t you already described it?

tldr: you are giving vil existential crisis everyday 😊

vil doesn't mind though they actually find it entertaining on how you think of such topics

"vil, do you think if anything is possible, it’s still possible for anything to be impossible?"

"(name), potato. for the love of the great seven. it is three am."

"but like hear me o-"

they always love to hear you ramble but as much as possible. let us not do that in early morning 😭

✰ idia shroud - fluffy hair

ok i remember i asked this before if touching his hair burn your hands but it doesn't (if it burns, let's pretend)

when the two of you started going out + going on gaming nights as dates, you both just lean next to each other and screech - or criticizing that certain character in a movie

but one day, you discover that is hair in fact is quite ... unbrushed for days ...

"idia?"

"i did not eat the last pizza slice earlier. that was not me."

"... come here." after mentioning the pizza you've been also searching for an hour, you quickly grabbed the third year's shoulder and forced un to sit on the nearby chair with a brush on the other hand. his eyes stared as if it is his worst enemy.

"i think it's time for you to have a little cleaning up as punishment don't you think?"

at first he seems pretty reluctant, trying to avoid the direction of the brush but in the end he let you do so

and ngl, it feels so nice to have his hair brushed - idia even start to doze off midway

that is how relaxed he is during the process and wouldn't mind if you do it every one in a while

or maybe everyday 🥺

"idi-"

"i bought some new ha-hairpins that i thought you would like... i-it's right over the drawers"

yes. new daily commission unlocked - decorating idia's hair with anything you like

idia doesn't mind you styling his hair, and maybe he would even go on his day being proud of your artwork

✰ malleus draconia - the cowlick, the horns, THE FANGS !!

ok i do not have favoritism but i cant just choose one 🥹

malleus would notice how you would just stop replying to his stories and always catch you staring at his face

deep inside he was like "did he not like the story? was it strange?" but no !!

"child of man, what is wrong? did i said something wrong?" you blink twice before waving your hands in front defensively.

"ah! it's nothing, i was just wondering if i could do something for a second." malleus tilt his head to the side, curious. "and that is?"

"if i can touch you for a minute."

"..."

"... treasure we should not do that before marria-" you cut him of before he could finish his sentence, you cheeks flushing red.

"th-that's what i meant! i was just curious if your horns are as hard to touch as it looks." his eyes widen for a second before he closed his eyes - grabbing your hand and putting it on his horns

"there you go, treasure. you can touch them any time"

they are cold and hard to touch but it still feel fascinating + leads to head pats in which the dragon enjoys

what i mean enjoy it. malleus loves it very much

if there goes a day if you don't pat his head, he will pout. shocking your friends but who care he want your attention 🤬

and when he pouts his little fang pokes out

🥺

"(name), malleus-senpai have been staring at you for a while now."

"oh mal? that is his way of asking for head pats. i'll be back in a second"

it was not in fact a second because malleus didn't let go of your hand and laid down on you lap while enjoying the scenery

he needs his daily pats 🤬 he likes it too when u slightly play with his cowlick it feels ticklish

i do not have favorites i just have many words to say

and that is it for dorm leaders!! i pretty much wrote this brain empty again so if there is any correction to be made feel free to tell me i will check it immediatelyy 🫶 I MISSED UPDATING EVERYDAY ACTUALLY but naur my brain said no bitch u don't have any ideas for a scenario 🥲 i am thinking to write for genshin soon !! feel free to send me your thoughts abt it ueueue