#wondering whether you have something to say about it

[prettyboykatsuki]

do you see anyone other than me? (baby please) | rafayel (lnds)

✮ tags ; rafayel x fem+ afab!reader, established relationships, dom!reader, sub!rafayel, gentle femdom, oral (m!recieving + some f!recieving), anal (m!recieving), praise kink (so much), dirty talk (SO much),pegging / topping, top!reader, bottom!rafayel dry orgasms 18+

✮ wc ; 6.9k (come on man)

✮ a/n ; reader and mc do not share a personality in this. reader is intentionally meant to have like... a more serious personality. so they are mc but not at the same time if that makes sense sdkjskj.

also i know this guy but only a little bit. i was planning on binging the main story after caleb got released but got ?? caught up writing this?? this has happened twice im so scared

✮ synopsis ; making sure rafayel actually forgives you is at the top of your priorities.

When you come home  from the office, take your shoes off, and turn the corner into the living room—you know without looking that Rafayel is in a mood.  

Not a good one.  

It’s something in the air, a lingering tension that makes all movement stiff as you attempt to navigate through the unease. You find Rafayel on the couch. Soft, deep lavender waves tussled like he’s been tossing and turning - pressed into the side of the couch. All curled up small.  

Somehow, you just know what sort of attitude you’ll be met with. You know your lover well enough to know that he’ll be moody but you’ve less confidence in regards to what that mood may be.  

Taking a deep breath, you step into the wide expanse of Rafayel’s living room and studio. His head turns, bangs falling in his face as you slide your work bag off from your shoulder to set aside. Your keys, noisy as you set them down, even gently—trying to leave the air undisturbed. He’s looking at you from over his shoulder but realizes he can’t completely see you that way. Instead of standing to his feet to come greet you, he drops his head back on the arm of the couch to stare at you upside down in a tense silence.  

You give him a look. His mood is sour. Maybe more than you thought. He smiles first, then frowns unhappily before turning his attention back to what he was doing. You hear small scratching noises—he’s sketching. You wonder how long he’s been sitting there doing that, since he usually just prefers to paint without thinking too hard.  

After that, he doesn’t look at you. He doesn’t greet you, either.  

“I’m home.” You say evenly. You think about being placating from the jump, but without knowing his exact reason - you worry you’ll only worsen the state of affairs.  

Rafayel hums. “Welcome home.”  

Your brain wracks through every possibility on what could be the source of this level of moodiness. Sometimes, his moody behavior is for kicks but it’s not this time. If it was, he’d lay it on thickly. Act theatrically towards you, get in your face about it. 

But he’s tense, forceful—every scratch of his pencil is too harsh like it’s rife with irritation. You tread carefully.  

“Can I sit with you?”  

“Why are you asking? Don’t you live here too? Just because I bought the couches with my money doesn’t mean—“  

“Rafayel.” You say, interrupting him. He scowls at you. “Can I?”  

As if more bothered by you being level, he huffs. It’s followed with a business smile over his shoulder. “Sure. Do whatever you want.”  

You choose to sit on the empty end of the couch where Rafayel does his sketching - fitting yourself in the gap of his space near his feet. You slide yourself in then gently lift his legs into your lap. Rafayel gives you a look when you do this, clearly debating on whether or not he should reject your act of goodwill. Ultimately he stays. 

Notably, while his pencil is still scratching on paper - you think by this point he’s not really sketching anything at all.  

“I got off of work late,” You explain. You rest your hands on his calf gently. “There was an incident near the station but it was a false alarm so I ended up being cleared.”  

“Oh? Is that so?”  

Warm, you think. You nod.  

“There’s been a lot of Metaflux increases in the residential districts close to our headquarters. It’s odd.” You explain. Rafayel is quiet, looking at his nails disinterested. You go on, not taking offense. “Strange as it is, there’s been no active threats. Still, given the location, it needs a lot of man power to be investigated.”  

Rafayel sits quietly, unreadable. You continue on. “So it’s been busy. I think we’ve cleared the level of threat, so another team will probably take over soon.”  

“Hm.” Rafayel says, a petulant edge to his voice. Warmer. “So that’s why you’ve been so late this week. I guess it’s good that nothing happened. It must’ve been difficult, so difficult if you could barely spend time with your one and only lover. But I guess it’s fine, it’s not like there’s anything you can do in that circumstances. Well, you could’ve done a lot but if it didn’t occur to you there’s nothing to be said, then again—why would it—“  

Hot. “Rafayel.”  

“What.” 

“I’m sorry for being late,” You say.  

A beat. His frown deepens.  

“And?”  

You pause before answering, smiling apologetically. “For not keeping in contact with you more.”  

Some of the life returns to him. You’ve deduced the source of his bad mood, which means the only thing left is to alleviate it. You don’t like seeing him upset. He’s quick to forgive you, always optimistic and trying to keep your relationship lighthearted.  

But there is an underlying desire in him that makes you more conscious about any minor infringements. Despite himself, Rafayel is more concerned about you liking him than he’ll ever let on in  his life. Even when he’s upset, he’ll forgive you - but the feelings linger until they explode. When he gets like that, it’s much harder to comfort him.  

It’ll fester if you don’t apologize properly. You know him well enough to know that and you love him well enough to not want to see when disaster strikes.  

(Plus, there’s something about the way he’s still pouting. He’s trying to relax, but it’s there. It’s cute to you. It makes you want to kiss it better.) 

“I’m sorry,” You offer. You reach for the hand resting in his lap and he lets you take it, though it’s limp. You press a kiss to the back of it, eyes full of affection. “I’m not used to having someone wait for me,”  

Rafayel makes another face at you, unreadable. “Not just anyone.”  

You laugh lightly. “That’s true.”  

Squeezing his hand tighter, you kiss it one more time. “Can I make it up to you…?” 

“I don’t know. Can you?”  

“I’d like to,” You offer, another kiss - just higher on back of his hand. Closer towards his wrist. “Whatever you wanted.”  

“Whatever I want is a tempting offer, Miss Bodyguard. What a talent for bargaining you have, indeed. Maybe you should try bidding a one of my auctions, just to see.” 

“I’d bid too high off the bat. I’d go bankrupt,” You tease back, a sweet lilt to your voice that makes Rafayel’s eyes shimmer, fond of your wit. “Would you be willing to keep me if I gave it all up that way, I wonder?”  

“Since it was for me, I could consider being merciful.”  

You give him sincere but small smile and Rafayel seems to warm up seeing it. He can be coy, even playful about his affection but there’s something about him today that feels more shy then it does anything else. 

“If I can ask for whatever I want,” Rafayel starts. “Maybe we could start with paying back your dues. After all you owe me your full undivided attention after your week of neglect.” 

“That’s easy.” You say, charming. Rafayel makes a face at you that makes you want to laugh. “I wanted to give you that anyway. Is that all?”  

“Are you telling me to be more demanding? You think that’s a wise choice?”  

“If it makes you happy, I’ll play the fool.”  

It’s corny, deliberately not something you’d say to anyone else or at any other time. Something that Rafayel might say to you in a different circumstance, so in a way you’ve simply beat him to the punch. He goes through several feelings, each passing over his expression. Amusement to disbelief to embarrassment even he can’t cover up too easily. 

Great risk comes with great reward. Yours is a smiling Rafayel, boyish and amused. Color returned to him, a playful air of mischief about him.  

“Well if you’re that desperate to make it up to me, then I guess I could try to forgive you. Gosh, you must be so desperate if you’re willing to act this way. You’ve totally fallen for me, haven’t you?”  

Yes, you think. Too much of that at once and he’ll get shy again. You’ll have plenty of coaxing to do later so you keep the thought to yourself. You smile at him instead. “So, you’ve anymore demands for me, my liege?”  

Rafayel hums before breaking out into a grin. “Hmm. For now, just one.” He offers you his hand. “Take me upstairs.”  

__  

Rafayel has a way about him, with you and only you, that makes you especially weak to his advances.  

Whatever those advances are, however taxing on you they may be—there’s so rarely a time where you can tell him no. He likes having that much influence over you, no matter what his particular mood is. If he’s feeling the desire to keep you under his thumb or be at your mercy. Whats central to him in each instance is that he has the full breadth of your attention, your desire, and most importantly—your lacking will to resist.  

You like it all because you like Rafayel. Like how it feels trying to hold onto him as  he slips between your fingers.  

If someone asked you what you like most, though - it’d be this.  

Not quite at your mercy but expectant of your devotion. Crystalline eyes and long, straight lashes blinking up at you with unwitting demand, crowding around you mercilessly. A gaze that weakens you, disarms you, demands your propriety.  

“What are you thinking about?”  

His words come out more annoyed than he wants them to. Your eyes come back into focus to Rafayel on top of you, in your lap as you lean against the headboard. His weight settled like he’s something that fits there perfectly and he does. Your hand reaches for his lower back, eyes tracing down the damp skin. Button shirt opened just loose enough to catch glimpse of his collarbones, with only boxers underneath. Your hands run down his sides, smooth down his bare thighs - mesmerized by cream colored skin that begs for blemishes. 

His expression bewitches you even when your mind had prepared you for it. You smile almost lazily, drawing him just a little closer to you until your noses touch. “Of you.”  

He scoffs at you. “Is that so? Not that you have no reason to think about your perfect, darling lover—it’s just that it seems like he’s the last thing on your mind these days, so you know,-“ 

You kiss him. It’s only partially to shut him up. It’s mostly because him talking makes you look at the shape of his mouth, the curve of his lips—the way he’s pouting at you. It’s almost too much. You part after a minute, careful not to deepen the kiss.  

He has something to say after the fact, dazed - hands on your shoulders trying to give himself the room to speak before you kiss him again.  

But you don’t relent. You kiss him harder, a hand around the back of his neck - slipping your tongue against his lips in the way you like. He doesn’t concede. You’re not really expecting him to. He kisses back even harder like he’s trying to prove a point - teeth digging into your lower lip. A little too sharp for human, but perfect for him.  

You pull away breathless. A hand still on the nape of his neck, sliding around enough to feel his pulse under your thumb. Thump, thump, thump—rabbit quick. You smile at him suggestively, proving him displeased.  

“Don’t interrupt me. Trying to kiss me when I’m airing out my complaints is unprofessional and rude, I’ll have you know.” 

“I’m sorry,” Your lips brush his jawbone. “It’s hard to think about talking when you’re half-naked on top of me.”  

“You can be so vulgar. It’s shocking. You’re usually all serious and about work and then sometimes you look like a dog waiting to be told it can have the treat on it’s nose,” Rafayel says airily. Fake haughty, voice colored with coyness. You look up at him. “Does it really count as making it up to me if all you’re doing is lusting after me?”  

You don’t deny him at face value. “You set the standard. You tell me. Do you feel like I’m still making it up to you or should I work  a little harder?”  

There’s something between you. A spark of electricity that fizzles and pops, tension deepening. Rafayel likes playing tug of war with you. Even though he’s expecting to be pampered - there’s nothing easy about letting him. But it works when you keep yourself even. Eager. Having your desire and lust for him out in the open gives him the power again and he likes that, even when it’s mostly pretend.  

“Work harder. You have to earn your paycheck Miss Bodyguard.” He says. You laugh a little, sitting up a little straighter.  

“Yes boss,” You reply. You lean forward, pulling his weight down as your hands slide underneath the loose, flowy button up. Your hands find his waist, holding his sides before gliding them up on the planes of his back. He’s got lean muscle, a swimmers build that feels tight to the touch.  

You kiss him on the lips again, tongue sweeping against his lower lip. Rafayel playfully rejects it when you do. You pull away one hand to cup the back of his neck and force the kiss deeper, tongue pressing the closed seam of his lips until he yield and lets you. He melts at the gesture rather  unwittingly, the softest little whimper sounding as you feel your tongues touch. It’s a wet, hot kiss. Mouth sticky with spit and saliva.  

“I’m working hard so you shouldn’t be too hard on me,” You say playfully. Rafayel rolls his hips, makes a noise for you as he huffs. “I want to make you feel good.”  

“You’re—“  

You interrupt him again. Not with a kiss on his mouth this time, but a chaste one to the very corner of of it - trailing down the soft curve of his jawline. You make the pressure on his neck featherlight. Thin skin prone to being sensitive, he melts at the soft touch. Cranes his neck up subconsciously to give you access to it. In the spirit of pampering him, you bite at the skin with a genuine hunger. Marking each bruise with a kiss first, you sink your teeth into him without remorse. Incisors scraping the delicate area before you suck hard, broken capillaries throbbing underneath your tongue when you lick them after the fact. 

 Deep, deep shades of red and purple bloom all over the column of his throat. It doesn’t feel like enough to you still.  

“My neck hurts from all your biting.” His voice comes out in wet pants, betraying the sentiment. You laugh warmly at his attempt to diverge.  

“Does it? Should I be gentler, then?” You offer. After you feel like you’ve marked his neck enough, you press another feather-light kiss right where his adams apple sits. Another on his clavicle. When it gets to his collarbone - you don’t do anything more than brush your lips.  

Rafayel whines. It’s a throaty sound that makes your whole body break out into a shiver. Such a pleasant sound on the ears that your mind pictures instantly what other sounds he might make if you just had your way with him. It uncovers a selfish part of you. You could flip him over on your bed and take him if you wanted. Fuck him until he sings as punishment maybe for being tempting like a siren drawing a lone sailor into deep waters.  

You keep the thoughts to yourself, and keep your composure. You ask again instead. “Come on. Tell me. Do you want me to touch you more gently?”  

He fusses in your lap. You grin. “What’s the point in being gentle now if you’re being so rough to begin with? The change would be just weird, you know.”  

“I guess it would,” You let yourself lick the same places you just kissed. You bite then hard enough to leave a mark and Rafayel arches himself into it. “It’s better like this then, right? If I leave marks all over you, then maybe you’ll feel less lonely when I get busy again.”  

“I should get to leave them on you too. Your memory isn’t as sharp as it used to be. A physical reminder might do you some good, yes.”  

His voice is trembling, despite himself. You pull away to look up at him, and catch sight of a fragility you sometimes forget he’s capable of. Brows drawn into a furrow, lips pulled into a pout. Like a wound reopened inside of him that he’s so desperate to cauterize but can’t. You want to kiss the lines between his brows and get on your knees for it. A proof of your affection.  

“I’m sorry for being careless,” You say, sincere. Rafayel looks ready to quiet you, concerned about the mood but you proceed anyhow. You lift his shirt up and hold it to his mouth, and he bites without your instruction. Bare chest exposed to him, you flit your gaze to his face. “I can’t do anything but try to beg your forgiveness. Still,”  

You kiss his sternum, your hands on his waist. You fingers trail down his sides, hands sliding back up to chest. His nipples are hard, damp skin cool to the touch. Your warm him with your fingers, rolling over the sensitive tips. Rafayel makes a muffled noise, his cock twitching responsively.  

“All I ever really think about is you,” You say. Rafayel gives you a long, unreadable look as you toy with his chest. “I’m not the type to half-ass things so my thoughts always revolve around you. Finishing work to come home to you. If you’ve eaten or if you locked yourself in the studio to paint all day. If we should go somewhere together on my day off.”  

You lean forward and stick your tongue out, taking his nipples into your mouth. You roll the other one with your hand to increase the pleasure - content as you watch his face begin to flush. He watches you so closely, the tips of his ears burning a bright red. You suck hard, wetting them with saliva before you take them gently between your teeth and tugging.  

“I’m not good at balancing work with play. I’m also not very friendly so you’re the only person I’ve ever spent so much time dating” You hum, nuzzling his skin. “I’m sure down the line it’ll be harder. But, if it helps, it’s true that my heads always filled with you.”  

Your hands grip his waist, pushing his hips forward slightly as you suck and bite his chest again. A line of saliva connects you both as you pull away - teethmark indentations in their place.  

“I want to make you feel good,” You maneuver Rafayel until he’s underneath you. His expression reads as overwhelmed but the faint blush blooming all over his skin and the hazy look in his eyes makes you confident he’s feeling more than just uncertainty. More like restlessness. A desire to be touched as he lays on his back with you looming over him. “And to touch you everywhere.”  

You lean into him, trailing kisses down the his chest. You can feel his pulse quicken again as you touch him, spreading his legs as you put your thumb inside the waistband of his boxers.  

Like this, he looks especially enchanting. The sleeves of his shirt pulled over his palms, button-up bunched up underneath his chin, and tight gray boxer briefs snug around his hips. Your bedroom, dimly lit, casting shadow on the sinewy muscle. His chest heaves with anticipation, stomach tense as your lips trace a path down from chest to navel. Excitement wracks through his body.  

You put a hand on his stomach and look up at him. “I want to leave my mark on all of it. I want your body to remember I felt this deep inside of you and shiver. You’ll be able to think of me half as much as I think of you.”  

Rafayel heaves, eyes glossed over. “Shit, you’re so unfair. It’s like you have two personalities or something. Are you tricking me? Is it actually you in there?”  

You smile a little, pleased by his reply.  

You follow your instinct, sliding his boxers off and tossing them somewhere. Rafayel is hard. So hard it looks like it hurts. The tip of his cock is ruddy, wet with pre-cum and swollen. His dick is long. Stands up with a straight curve. You breathe on it, making Rafayel flinch with anticipation. Your eyes flicker up to his face, terrible pout betraying his feigned moodiness..  

“Don’t tease me,” He voices. Arousal strikes through you like hot iron at the whine of his voice. Almost pitiful.  

“Not today,” You promise. 

You making yourself comfortable between Rafayel’s legs, sticking your tongue out to taste him. He smells like soap and skin, but the scent is still so arousing. Your head is heavy with it, senses suffocating, hands stabilizing themselves by grabbing hold of his thighs. Rafayel looks near overwhelmed from even the slightest touch. It’s uncharacteristic for him to be so quiet. Almost meek. He must be aching for you more than he lets on.  

You let his cock rest against your face, nuzzling it with your cheek. His cock responds sweetly to the lewd act. He lets out a sigh about, subtly trying to shimmy away from the touch. Unable to win against your grip, he sinks back into the bed and takes a long breath.  

“Keep your eyes on me,”   

In the business of spoiling him, you leave your teasing to a minimum. You gather spit in your mouth and spit it onto his cock with force - relishing the his breath hitches. How his eyes widen just slightly. You stroke his shaft with a tight grip, bringing your head down suck lightly below the shaft of his cock. His head falls back again, mouth open in a silent plea.  

Rafayel keens for you when you work him with the warm, wet cavern of your mouth. You use your hands to fondle him while you shift your attention to his length. Your lips placing hot kisses up until they stop at the slit - tongue dipping into and tasting precum. Salty and warm. You wet your lips again and brush them against his cock - watching the way his expression shifts at the sensation, lightly sucking as you build yourself up having him in your mouth.  

He pitches his hips with desperation that spurs you to give him more pleasure. You open wide to take his cock into your mouth. The weight of it feels good. Arousal clouds your mind as you hollows your cheeks and stick your tongue out over your lip. He’s throbbing so hard it makes you lightheaded.  

A minute passes as you just hold him in your mouth, getting your jaw used to the sensation before you put in work in making him feel good. Like steel over your velvet, you use your tongue to lap at the sensitive skin while spitting and drooling. You’re making a mess. The room echoes with the filthy noise of you swallowing and choking on Rafayel’s cock.  

“Oh, fuck.” 

Your eyes flicker up to Rafayel, trying not to crack a smile at the state of disarray he’s in. His expression is so twisted from pleasure. All of his features reflective of it. His blush seems to creep down even further the longer you go. Your body gradually heats up, core throbbing as you take him down. Take him slowly into the narrow canal of your throat, eyes watering.  

You ease yourself down the very base - nose pressed against his navel, tongue over your lip. Rafayel’s fingers curl into the sheets underneath you trying not to buck his hips.  

“Get off of me, I’ll cum.” He says, almost panicked. “Your throat feels so good. Y-your mouth is so hot and it’s making me feel so good, can’t—I can’t. You gotta get off or—”  

His words of protest fall on deaf ears as you spread his legs even further. Wanting to make him feel better, you part them. 

 You’re greeted by pretty pink hole - already wet for you. A stream of spit follows as you pull off him. 

 Rafayel heaves in relief.  

“You got yourself ready,” You say, less than ask. Rafayel rolls his eyes.  

“So what if I did?” 

“I wanted to do it for you.” You reply, pretending to sulk. “Told you I wanted to spoil you.”  

He blushes further. “Don’t you have any sensibility? You’re doing more than enough. Being excessive, even.”  

“I don’t believe in being excessive when it comes to you,” You hum. Sitting up, you reach over the bedside table for a bottle of lube. You pour it in excess on your two fingers before coming back down between his legs. The bed creaks under your weight.  

Lube drips from your two fingers onto Rafayel’s hole, thick as you push the excess with two fingers. Both go in so smoothly it makes you smirk. He’s soft inside. It’s so easy for you to put both fingers inside of him, even easier to find his prostate - swollen from arousal. He must’ve fucked himself open like this on three fingers given how easily yours follow.  

“It’s so wet inside. You must’ve really wanted me to fuck you.”  

“So what if I—aah—did?”  

“Well, I wanted to take you apart nice and slow.” You say, slowly rubbing your fingers against his prostate, pleased by the little oh noises he makes when you. Cum spills from the tip immediately. He’s so sensitive. You divulge your plans to him as you stretch him. “First with my mouth once or twice.  I was going to save fucking you for the end  but—“ You push your fingers deeper. To the knuckle. His eyes shoot wide open before his voice breaks into a moan. “Since I’m making it up to you you, I was wondering if I should just cut the chase and make you cum on my cock over and over and over. Maybe you’d prefer that.”  

Rafayel’s eyes go wide. You feel a sense of accomplishment knowing without him telling you. He clears his throat, strangely sheepish.  

“It’s not like the other stuff feels bad or anything—“  

You make eye contact with him, sitting up on your knees. Your other hand cups the back of his neck as you press a third finger inside - fucking it in slowly. Rafayel moans unabashedly as you do. His skin is feverish as you press your forehead to his, noses brushing. The wet sound of you stretching him open makes you dizzy, shared breaths between you filling worsening your appetite for him.   

“It’s not what you want though, is it? Not today anyway.” You say, leaning close enough to kiss. You don’t follow through, your voice low on a whisper. “Tell me how you were picturing me fucking you in the shower. I’ll give you whatever you want today,”  

Rafayel seems to let go of the last threads of fight in him as you approach like this. You’re in the thick of your wanting for him. Your body and your mind hunger to make it feel so good it looks like carnage to everyone else. To be pleasured so ruthlessly he can barely move 

He’s rarely too shy but right now he’s in the depths of his desires. He moans sweetly like this. It’s not a sound you can coax out of him easily. It sounds so perfect still. Mouth fallen open, his hands finding purchase in the back of your shirt.  

“Want you to fuck me deeply,” He pants, like it’s straining to even thinking about it. “N-not too fast, but not too slow either. Want you, hngh,” Shivering, he tries to speak coherently as your eyes meet - lips barely touching but almost. “To p-praise me and—“  

You grin. “You want to pampered while I fuck this pretty little hole, right?”  

You push your fingers in harder. He whimpers. It’s loud and broken and makes grip on you tighter. He just nods. “Please. Fuck, please - need it now. In me, please.”  

It’s exactly the words you’re interested in hearing. You kiss him on the lips deeply. He sinks completely into the touch, malleable under your fingertips.  

“Shh, I know.” You hum, soothingly. Rafayel whines from the loss of contact as you pull your hand away.“You earned it. Just a little more.” 

You stand up again on your knee, stripping yourself of the remaining garments left on your body from the work day. You unhook your bra and take it off along with your tank top in one go, tossing it somewhere on the floor. 

Next come your slacks, tight from the way you’ve tucked silicone cock up against your stomach to be ready to fuck. You put it on earlier while he bathed - tucking it in your pants to keep it out of the way. Seeing you unzip your work slacks and have a heavy silicone cock fall from them evokes a reaction in Rafayel that endears you endlessly. A bitten lip while a shiver wracks through him. 

Deciding your pants will get in the way, you make quick work of wriggling out of them completely before returning between Rafayel’s legs. You spit in your hand and stroke yourself with it, wetting your cock before letting it rest against Rafayel’s own. 

“How do you want it?” You ask.  

“Like this,” He says, unmoving. He seems certain on that end but he’s hesitating. “But I want you to…” 

He looks away. You try not to grin but fail.  

“You were being so bold a second ago,”  

He rolls his eyes. “Well a second ago someone was trying to rearrange my insides so I didn’t have to think very hard,”  

“So, should I do it again, then? I think we’ll get better results that way.”  

“You’re so noisy. I don’t pay you for this,” He pauses. “I want you to hug me while we… like be close to me.” 

You pause before smiling gently. You’re so charmed by the innocence of it. It’s so unlike him. Being away from you must’ve bothered him more than he cared to admit. Softening, instantly - you lean forward and press your lips to his forehead.  

“Sure. Anything else?”  

“Ugh. Not for now. But it’s annoying. I should be running you into the ground by now but here you are,” 

“Making good on my promise?,” You finish. Rafayel doesn’t refute you. You kiss his shoulder blade. “Anything you want today. I’m yours.”  

“Say it again,”  

“All yours.”  

He wraps his arms around your neck and pulls you down. “…Hurry up and fuck me then.”  

Complying with his wishes, you sit back on your knees as you line your cock up with Rafayel’s entrance and push. He gasps as you slide the fat head of your cock in, a wicked smile on your face as you watch his hole stretch out and around you. Three fingers is more than enough prep. It makes filling him so easy.  

Still, the stretch - the feeling of being full is nothing like just fingers. You watch as Rafayel’s body adjusts to  it. Inch by inch, you rock your hips forward gently until he’s swallowed your cock up half-way. He’s trembling as you lean forward. Waiting for you to bottom out before he pulls you forward for as much skin to skin as he can have. Your chest squishes against him.  

When his hips roll for you to go deeper, you take it as a sign. With all of your strength, you hold onto his waist bury yourself inside of him in another single thrust. His nails dig into your shoulder, his voice next to your ear as you. Tightening his grip, he cries out at the sudden movement 

You can feel him shake underneath you, cock clenching hard while you hold him.  

“Fuuck,”  He goes stone stiff underneath you before starting to tremor more violently. “Fuck, oh fuck.”  

Realization dawns on you a few seconds later. “Did—did you cum just from putting it in?”  

He opens his eyes and frowns at you.  

“Shut up. I didn’t get to cum earlier.”  

You laugh. “You’ll kill me being this cute. I don’t know what to do.”  

“I could give you an idea if you’re going to just sit there,”  

His impatience amuses you.  

“Sorry. I’ve got you. Cum as much as you want.”  

You anchor yourself, pulling out slowly and internally groaning at the resistance as you do. How his hole grips onto you so tight it feels nearly hard to move despite know how stretched he is. A phantom sensation fills your waist as you feel his stomach shift as you thrust.  

Heeding earlier requests, you use your hips to set a pace to fuck Rafayel the way he wants. The ins and outs of his body come naturally to you now. Finding the right pace, the right motion, the right angle - all come easier to you than you even remember. On muscle memory, you hike Rafayel’s legs up and begin to fuck him deep. Not too fast, not too slow - but consistent in grinding against that sweet spot. Deliberately thrusting your hips up, you try to direct all the remaining focus into fucking him as good as you can.  

You know you’ve hit the right places when his grip on you gets tighter. His legs locked around your back, Rafayel is a mess underneath you even when you’ve barely begun. Like he can’t stop cumming, his body helplessly wound as your hips clap his ass.  

The moans that come out of him, broken and sweet. More angelic then pornographic but lewd enough to make you dizzy with the urge to pin him up and fuck him harder. Groaning when you fuck him just right. You can feel his cock against your stomach with how close your bodies are as you grind - twitching. Pre-cum leaking in long spurts and wetting your skin. 

You coo at him feeling it start to be easier to fuck him.  

“It’s just like a pussy, huh? You take me so good inside of you. It feels like you were made for it,” You press kisses wherever your lips can find the skin. On his face, his mouth, on his shoulders. You can barely make sense of your own filth, your mind moving on it’s own as your body chases its own arousal. Your clit is grinding against the base of your strap-on so well like this, you could easily chase the high and find your own orgasm with seconds. You’re too busy paying attention to make well on it. “I like when you act cute like this. Usually you’d put up a fight about it but you’re asking without fuss. It’s precious seeing you fall apart on my cock.”  

He moans your name like an incantation, another dribble of cum spilling. He can’t stop cumming. Just shuddering beneath you, his face in your shoulder and panting like he can’t find the words.  

“All mine, yeah? Everything, all of you. It’s all mine to tend to, so you can be as selfish as you want.” You hum, encouraged by the whimpering repetition of please in his voice. He’s being so pliant, so good. You can’t help yourself. “Take when you need. Cum when it feels good for you. I want you to feel good. Want to make you feel so good you can’t stand it. Think you can do that? Come on,”  

Rafayel moans brokenly into your neck. “I’m g-gonna cum so hard, fuck—feels like I can’t stop, please don’t stop, fuck me,” 

“Shh it’s okay. I wont stop until you tell me.” You tuck yourself against his neck, kissing it before biting his ear lobe. He gasps. “Don’t think about anything other than cumming for me.”  

“Fuck,” His nails dig into your biceps, coiling you around as you get close. “Fuck me. P-please—I’m cumming, I’m cu -“  

Rafayels whole body stiffens under the weight of your body. You fuck him steady, pinning him down as he cums. His cock pushes hard against your stomach, twitching helplessly as his cum spills in streams. His back curls up, gripping onto you tightly as he moans loud and unabashed, euphoria splintering through his muscles. You fuck him through it until he rides out his high - his body loosening up as soon as it passes.  

The sound of cum unsticking from your skin as you part from Rafayel makes you grin. You pull back out of slowly and get on your knees. You use your hand to wipe the cum off of your stomach and smear it against Rafayel’s hole.  

“You made a mess,” You say brightly. Rafayel pants, looking up at you. Before you can ask, his voice trembles. He weakly reaches for your hand.   

“Let me make you finish,” He says, abrupt. You blink at him owlishly. “Please.”  

“Isn’t this about you?”  

He frowns, looking at you seriously.  

“It is. And I’m telling you I want you sit on my face and cum on it. Please.”  

You give him a look before breaking out into a laugh. You stand onto your knees and undo the buckles of your harness - shimmying out of them. “I can’t refuse you if you ask like that but I don’t think it’ll be long.”  

“It’ll just be once for now,”  

“For now?”  

He nods matter-of-factly. “You still owe me after the crimes of neglect you’ve committed against me.”  

“Right.”  

“And I’ve decided I want to exercise my rights to eat pussy until sunrise.”  

“I see,” You say bemused. “And this is… revenge I take it? And not perhaps, an act of goodwill towards me.”  

“I have no reason to show you good will, do I?”  

You break out into more laughter. 

“Right. We’ll be even after today then, at least.”  

“Hurry,” Rafayel says again, after settling it. Same puppy dog look in his eyes as before, back in instant. You can’t help but be charmed by how quickly he reverts back into desiring your attention.  

Rafayel lays down as you take your strap-on off and crawl over towards him. Deciding you’re not done with him for the day - you stand on your knees just over his chest and spread your pussy apart for him to see. He’s not expecting it, evidenced by the way his eyes go wide at the sight. 

“Even without cumming, making you feel good turned me on this much. Is that what you were hoping to know?”  

Rafayel goes flush again. “I never said that.”  

“So difficult,” You hum. “Come on. Can I sit?”  

Rafayel barely masks his enthusiasm as he nods. You crawl over him further before carefully setting yourself above his face. You try to avoid letting the full weight rest on him, but Rafayels hands are on you in an instant. With the same desperate grip he had while you were fucking him, he pulls your thighs down until your pussy is in his mouth - tongue out and lapping up wetness instantly. You shiver at the desperate movement of his tongue. 

It gets your body hot all over again. Your fingers thread through the purple strands of hair for anchor as you push yourself against his willing mouth like you’re fucking his face. Your own desires hadn’t crossed your mind until now, but now that you’re aware of it - that familiar restless lust returns to you tenfold You shiver as the familiar flames of arousal stoke back up inside of you.  

Your gut honeyed, sticky lust making your limbs feel thick. You use your other hand to tweak your nipples as you rock your hips back and forth. Rafayel lies underneath you obediently, eagerly - his hands helping you move at the pace you want without complaint. He always manages to surprise you. His willingness to give to you making you feel weak in the knees.  

Already so worked up, it takes you hardly any time to reach your climax. You feel it in your waist, body going slack as the knot inside of your stomach uncoils. You let out a short cry, hands tightening in Rafayel’s hair as you cum all over his face - swearing as you do. You feel Rafayel moan against you, reverberating through you as you ride out your high and finish.  

You pull away from his sated, pulling back to see him wiping his chin before licking his fingers. The look in his eyes sends an amused sort of arousal through you.  

“You look like you’re going to eat me.” You say. Rafayel nods.  

“I mean… I’m certainly trying.”  

You laugh tiredly, swiping your thumb against his cheek with a smile.  

“After we clean up and have dinner,” You say. “I have some mandatory time off so I won’t be called in.”  

“I won’t let you sleep,” He says, clingy again - face pressed against your thigh. You grin. His many moods make you so weak to him. 

You bend down to kiss his forehead.  

“I wasn’t planning on it.”  

✮ a/n ; rafayel fans . let me know if this was okay im lacking confidence but i had writing him. i want to keep like a spoiled housecat maybe.

[pearlwonyo]

⁀➴ ──── 【 𝑖’𝑚 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 】 STEPHANIE

she keeps on texting me, do i like her? no, definitelyㅤ｡

𝐴LTERNATIVELY ⦂ ℎ𝑜𝑤 en- would react to their crush texting them late at night ㅤ｡ ｡ ｡

【 あかり 】 ⟡ 𝑓luff , 𝑓em!reader , ℎigh 𝑠chool 𝑎u, 𝑠mitte𝑛 𝑒n-,

HEESEUNG ⟡

it was past midnight, why were you still up? he thought as he stared at the three dots on your side of the chat. he leaned against the headboard of his bed and sighed heavily. heeseung was both happy and flustered that you were texting him at such a late hour.

you two had been at it since around 10pm, maybe you really like talking to him? he blushes at the thought before looking back at his phone, quietly waiting for a response from you.

baby steps, he thinks to himself, holding his phone close to his heart. was this the beginning of something he really wanted?

𝐉𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐆 ⟡

the fact that it was 1:43 at night when you called made his heart flutter. he’d been pinning on you since middle school, so it’s been a long time.

the whole time, he looked at your messages, noticing how much you talk and it calmed him in a way that he couldn’t quite explain. jay was such a gentlemen, smiling at his phone like a dork. he decided to ask,

— why’re you up so late? delivered . .

— i like talking to you, why? sent from y/n . .

— nothing, nevermind :) delivered . .

as you two text throughout the night, he couldn’t help wondering, would it be like this too if you were his?

JAEYUN ⟡

he loved the fact that you were actually texting him at this time, not because he was bored or anything, but it was the fact that you made an effort to talk to him even with the new semester starting.

you two were so close, like two magents glued together. but you guys had a fall out and didn’t speak to each other for a long time.

jake finally realized that it was all his fault and apologized, having to wait for almost one month to gain back your trust.

now you’re here, texting him late at night as if you didn’t have a care in the world. could you guys be something more?

𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍 ⟡

hoon didn’t want to just see your messages— he wanted to see your pretty face. he’d beg for you to facetime, but wouldn’t that seem desperate?

he sighed heavily as you two spoke about the test you had in your second period. contemplating about whether he should ask if you were comfortable with calling, his hand hovered over the facetime button.

he cursed under his breath before typing out,

— are you okay with ft? delivered . .

— facetiming? oh yeah sure. sent by y/n . .

sunghoon’s eyes widened upon reading the message. he grinned widely and he immediately clicked on the face call button.

he smiled softly when he saw your face. “so pretty..” he murmured under his breath, you heard him, but decided not to comment. are you more than friends?

SUNOO ⟡

you and him had been gossiping for hours on end, when would it end? sunoo thought. but he didn’t want this precious moment to end. not ever.

he loved just speaking with you in general. by your locker, during passing time, even when you’re playing against his team in p.e. he just liked to hear what you had to say.

— y/n. delivered . .

— ddeonu. sent by y/n . .

— i really like talking to you, we should do it more often <33. delivered . .

— awwh i feel the same way, we should go over to each others house or smthg.. sent by y/n . .

his eyes basically lit up after reviewing the exchange you two had. going over to yours or his house? he blushed, giggling in his bedsheets. was this what friends did nowadays?

𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐖𝐎𝐍 ⟡

jungwon would be kicking his feet, smiling so much which made his dimples more prominent. texting with you late at night? hell yes.

he could just imagine you, sitting on your chair, or no—, probably laying down in your bed just like him. the faint glow of the phone shining onto your face, giving it a light blue-ish shade.

— aren’t you sleepy? delivered . .

— no, not really. i think i drank too much coffee after school.. T T sent by y/n . .

he sighed, chuckling softly. ah yes, he remembered walking to that new coffee shop with you, holding hands— wait. you two held hands. friends don’t act like that around each other.. right?

RIKI ⟡

he’d lowkey just be wondering why you were up so late. niki couldn’t blame you though— he was literally doing his homework until he saw your contact pop up on his screen.

he’d try to act all chill about you texting him this late, but even non-direct talking couldn’t conceal his happiness. butterflies in his stomach and all, he liked knowing that he had you talking to him.

— texting me so late? how cute, you must miss me already.. delivered . .

— shut up, i’m just bored. don’t act like you aren’t wide awake either. sent by y/n . .

— mm right.. sure you just ain’t trying to deny it? people say that others get defense only when they’re really lying.. delivered . .

he chuckled as you two began to playfully argue. it was moments like this when he started to question your relationship with him. what are you and him?

© pearlwonyo — 2025

[emmkayyy03]

🏹Astro observations again🐅✨

So, I'm back again after long and here is a new set of observations I thought of sharing.❤️

Venus in Ashvini Nakshatra

You're someone who loves a good challenge. You’re drawn to excitement, impulsive connections, and thrill. The turn-on? Someone who knows how to match your energy, with a fiery passion that keeps you on your toes. You’re into someone who takes the lead but knows how to keep things spontaneous and playful. Fast-paced romance, intense physical attraction, and adventure are what get your heart racing. You enjoy someone who pushes boundaries and doesn’t play by the rules, keeping things unpredictable and full of desire.

Sun in the 11th House

The life of the party, but always with a little something hidden beneath. People love being around you, but you’re not just a social butterfly; you're building connections that serve a greater purpose. You love attention, but it’s not just about fame—it's about respect. The turn-on? When someone admires your intellect as much as your personality. You're attracted to someone who can stimulate your mind and keep up with your social energy. Power dynamics, where you get to hold the reins, are your thing, creating a balance between leadership and being in control.

Ketu in the 1st House

Mysterious, detached, and giving off serious monk vibes, you walk into a room and immediately have everyone wondering who you are. People are captivated by your elusive nature and that "I don’t need anyone" vibe. It’s a major turn-on for someone who wants a challenge. You need someone who’s okay with your distant, independent side and is drawn to unraveling the layers beneath. Mental stimulation and someone who understands your need for space while keeping the connection strong is key. Power dynamics work well, with you as the one holding emotional control.

Moon in Revati Nakshatra

If your Moon’s in Revati, you're a walking mystery. People can’t quite put their finger on you, but they’re drawn in like moths to a flame. Emotionally deep, you’re not just sensitive; you pick up on everything around you. Your dreamy side? That’s a huge turn-on. You're the type that gets someone to fall in love just by being present, not even saying a word. When you let someone in, though, they get a taste of that intensity. You need someone who understands your emotional depth—someone who’s into connecting on that raw, unfiltered level.

Moon in Magha Nakshatra

Royalty vibes, straight-up. You're emotionally strong and carry the weight of your lineage. You don’t take disrespect lightly, and when you demand respect, you’re not joking. The turn-on here is when someone recognizes and respects your strength. If they’re intimidated? That’s a massive turn-on for you—someone who sees your true value and isn’t afraid to bow down. You enjoy being adored or even worshipped in subtle ways—acts of reverence and respect turn you on in a way that’s unmatched.

Mercury in Hasta Nakshatra

With your hands being your greatest asset, you're the charmer and the creator. You know how to speak with your hands, whether it’s crafting something, writing something, or just giving a killer massage. The turn-on is someone who appreciates your talent and can read your body language just as much as they listen to your words. You like being admired for your skill and creativity. Tactile acts—whether it’s touch, massage, or intimate creative acts—are your vibe. It’s about connection through action.

Mars in Ashlesha Nakshatra

You’re not just seductive; you’re dangerous. You know how to manipulate a situation with your words and actions. People don’t even realize they’re being charmed, but you’ve got them hooked. The turn-on here is someone who can handle your intensity—someone who can play the game without being scared. Mind games and roleplay, where you take charge, are your thing. Being able to switch between dominance and playful banter keeps things unpredictable and thrilling.

Rahu in the 9th House

You challenge everything, and that rebellious nature is what draws people to you. The turn-on? When someone is intellectually stimulating, someone who isn’t afraid to debate or question everything like you do. If someone can keep up with your rebellious ideas and isn’t afraid of change, it’s a huge turn-on. Intellectual dominance and someone who can challenge your ideas and make you think is incredibly enticing. You’re into the deeper connections that go beyond just physical attraction.

Saturn in the 3rd House

You’ve got the quiet strength, the kind that makes people listen when you speak. You're about quality over quantity in communication, and that restraint makes you stand out. The turn-on here is someone who values your wisdom and isn’t intimidated by your quiet power. You’re attracted to someone who can read between the lines and get what you’re about without you having to say much. Subtle power plays work for you, where the tension builds gradually, and the control dynamic is more about who’s listening to who than anything else.

Venus in Revati Nakshatra

You’ve got that fairy-tale love vibe with a touch of edge. You attract people who see you as their healer, and let’s face it, you’re a softie underneath that hard exterior. The turn-on is when someone really gets you—when they don’t just see you as a fantasy, but understand your need to help while respecting your boundaries. Emotional intimacy combined with physical tenderness is your sweet spot, where you can give and receive care in a deep, meaningful way.

Moon Square Rahu

the emotional tug-of-war is real, and it makes you unpredictable. You go through highs and lows, but it’s that intensity that people are drawn to. The turn-on is when someone can match your unpredictability and emotional depth. They need to be able to handle your conflicting sides and embrace both your heart and your ambition. Emotional push-pull dynamics where you can switch between being deeply connected and wildly driven works for you. The excitement comes in the balance of passion and tension.

Darakaraka (DK) in Punarvasu

Your partner is the definition of resilience. They’ve got this ability to rise again no matter what life throws their way. Emotional stability is their thing, but they also crave excitement and new experiences. They’ll have this calming presence that makes you feel safe, yet every now and then, they’ll slip into their own world. They might be into philosophy, spirituality, or something creative like writing. They believe in second chances—whether in life, love, or your relationship—and they’ll always know how to bring the sunshine back after any storm. You’ll love the balance they bring, mixing emotional depth with a thirst for adventure. Their quiet strength and ability to stay grounded, while still exploring new horizons, will leave you completely hooked.

[andromeda-pleiades]

Just Trust Me

WORD COUNT: 1,747

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

Part- 1 | Part 3

The ride home is quieter than usual. Simon, who typically fills the silence with small talk or offhand comments, stays focused on the road. You can feel the absence of his usual chatter, and the space between you both grows.

You bite your lip, trying to decide whether to bring it up. The missing phone. The app. Simon’s reaction could tell you more than anything, but you're not sure what you're hoping to hear.

"So, I think I lost my phone today," you say, casually, trying to gauge his response.

Simon’s hands tighten around the steering wheel, though his expression doesn’t change. “Lost it? That’s a shame. Where?”

You hesitate, thinking back to the sandwich shop. The moment you realized your phone was gone, it felt like it happened in slow motion. “In the sandwich shop, I guess. It was just... gone.”

Simon glances at you briefly, his eyes cool, before returning to the road. “That’s annoying.”

He says it with a certain calmness, almost as if he's dismissing it without making a big deal out of it. You can’t quite place it, but something about his reaction makes you feel... uneasy.

"I’ll get you a new one," he adds, as if he’s solving the problem for you. “No point in you going without one.”

You almost want to argue, but something holds you back. The way he offers to replace it feels like it should be reassuring, but it only adds to the sense that you're losing control over things you once took for granted. You nod, unsure of what else to say.

"Thanks," you murmur. But the words feel hollow.

The silence stretches on, the low hum of the car filling the space between you. You keep wondering if he knows. About the app. About the things you haven’t figured out yet.

You glance at him, but his face is unreadable, his focus entirely on driving. It's as if the missing phone is nothing more than a minor inconvenience, and you can't decide if that should reassure you—or if it should worry you.

The car pulls into the driveway, and you feel the weight of the day pressing down on you. You know Simon’s going to act like everything is fine, that the missing phone is just another small thing to be dealt with. But a small voice inside you whispers that it's more than that.

You can't put your finger on it yet. But something feels...

You sit on the couch, your legs tucked beneath you, while Simon moves around the kitchen, humming a soft tune as he cleans up after dinner. The evening feels deceptively normal, his attentiveness wrapping around you like a warm blanket. He checks in with you often—bringing you water, asking if you’re comfortable—all while wearing the calm, steady expression you’ve always admired.

It’s what you should want, isn’t it? A partner who cares, who notices even the smallest things.

And yet, you feel… off. Not because of anything he’s doing, but because of you. Because of your own thoughts.

You glance at him as he wipes down the counter, his movements smooth and precise. Memories of his stories about his time in the special forces flash through your mind—missions in dangerous places, the constant threat of danger, the toll it must’ve taken on him. You’ve seen glimpses of it in the night terrors that wake him up, in the way he’s always scanning his surroundings when you’re out in public, in the way he can’t fully relax even here, at home.

You understand why he might have done it. The app, you mean.

It feels foolish now, the way you reacted earlier when you found it. Simon has always been a good boyfriend, patient and attentive even when you’ve struggled to keep up with his complexities. It makes sense that he would want to keep you safe, that he might need the reassurance of knowing where you are.

He’s been through so much—things you can’t begin to comprehend. After everything he’s seen, after all the chaos he’s lived through, is it so wrong that he wants control? That he wants to protect you in the only way he knows how?

You press your lips together, fighting back a wave of guilt. Maybe you overreacted. Maybe the app really is just his way of looking out for you.

But there’s something else, something you can’t quite name. A feeling deep in your gut that won’t go away, no matter how much you try to rationalize it.

Because if it was just about safety, just about protection, why didn’t he tell you about it?

The question twists in your mind, and you hate yourself for it. You hate that you’re doubting him when he’s never given you a real reason to. He’s been nothing but wonderful to you. Understanding. Patient. The perfect partner in every way.

And yet, the unease lingers, curling low in your stomach like a warning.

Simon turns to you then, breaking you out of your thoughts. “You okay?” he asks, his voice gentle, concerned.

You force a smile, nodding quickly. “Yeah. Just... tired.”

He studies you for a moment, his eyes searching yours, and you feel your pulse quicken. But then he nods, accepting your answer without pushing further.

“You should get some rest,” he says, walking over to press a kiss to the top of your head. “I’ll finish up here.”

You murmur your thanks, leaning into his touch despite the knot tightening in your chest.

As you retreat to the bedroom, you try to shake the feeling, to convince yourself that you’re overthinking it. Simon loves you. He’s always loved you. And he’s been through more than anyone should ever have to endure.

But no matter how much you tell yourself it’s fine, that he’s fine, you can’t ignore the small voice whispering in the back of your mind. The one telling you there’s more to this than he’s letting on.

And the more you try to silence it, the louder it becomes.

The room is dark and still when you wake, the faint scent of cigarette smoke lingering in the air. You blink a few times, disoriented, before realizing Simon isn’t beside you.

You sit up slowly, the silence pressing against your ears. Through the bedroom window, you catch a glimpse of him standing on the porch, his silhouette faintly illuminated by the cherry-red glow of his cigarette.

Simon doesn’t smoke often—only when he’s stressed. You watch him for a moment, his posture rigid, his shoulders tense as he stares out into the darkness.

A sense of unease washes over you, but you push it aside, convincing yourself it’s nothing. He’s probably just thinking, you tell yourself. Processing whatever ghosts still haunt him.

But you can’t shake the restlessness in your chest.

Sliding out of bed, you move quietly across the room. Your bare feet make no sound as they touch the cool floor. You don’t know what compels you to move toward the closet, but something in the back of your mind whispers for you to check.

The closet is orderly, as always—Simon’s precision extending to even the smallest details of his life. You scan the shelves and the small duffel bag tucked into the corner. It’s zipped shut, but not fully.

Your heart pounds as you crouch down, pulling it open. At first, you don’t see anything out of the ordinary: folded clothes, a shaving kit. But then your hand brushes against something hard and rectangular.

Your phone.

For a moment, you just stare at it, your breath caught in your throat. You pull it out slowly, your fingers trembling. The screen lights up as you press the button, and the app you found earlier stares back at you like a damning accusation.

You’re about to set it down when a notification pops up.

A message.

From Gaz

Your stomach drops. You hesitate for only a moment before swiping to unlock the screen. The message thread opens, and your pulse races as you scroll through it.

Gaz: She doesn’t suspect anything, does she?

Soap: Not a chance. Simon’s too good for that.

Simon: Just keep your end clear. I don’t want any loose ends.

Gaz: Relax. She’s not like that.

Your vision blurs as you stare at the screen, your brain struggling to piece together what you’re seeing.

She’s not like that. Are they talking about you?

You scroll further, catching bits and pieces of their conversation.

Gaz: How’s she holding up?

Simon: Doesn’t matter. Everything’s under control.

Soap: Yeah, but for how long?

The words feel like a punch to the gut. You don’t understand the full context, but you know enough to realize that this isn’t normal. This isn’t right.

And then it hits you.

Gaz

Kyle.

The realization hits you like a ton of bricks. Kyle—the same Kyle you’d known for years, your childhood friend. He’d always been part of Simon’s stories, but you never knew he was the same person. You never knew that Gaz—the elusive, almost mythical figure in Simon’s past—was your old friend.

Your childhood friend. The same Kyle you ran into at the sandwich shop. The same Kyle who was part of Simon’s special forces team, whose codename you’d heard in passing but never connected until now.

Your mind races as the truth sinks in. This wasn’t a coincidence. None of this was. Simon had been watching you from the start, and Kyle had been helping him. Every move you made, every step you took—it had all been calculated.

You feel like the floor has been ripped out from under you.

You force yourself to put the phone back exactly as you found it, zipping up the duffel bag and closing the closet door. Your hands are shaking, your breaths coming in short, shallow gasps.

When you glance out the window again, Simon is still there, his cigarette burned down to the filter. He crushes it under his boot, the movement precise, deliberate.

In that moment, he doesn’t look like the man you thought you knew.

He doesn’t look like the comforting, loving boyfriend who holds you when you’re upset or makes you laugh when you’ve had a bad day.

He looks like a soldier. A man trained to control every situation, to anticipate every threat, to eliminate every weakness.

And suddenly, you realize: you’re not his partner. You’re just another piece on the board.

[moonshynecybin]

hiiiii i was gonna save this for their evil little joint bday week but i finished it and thought it would be fun to post... anyways around 2k of rosquez porn have fun i hope ya like it

“Are you Valentino Rossi?” Comes the question, sweet and eager, just to his right.

He looks over. The kid standing there is in a tight t-shirt and has a starstruck, too-big smile plastered across his handsome face. The kind of handsome Vale likes, dark hair, brown eyes, thick brows. It makes him shift on his stool, turning on the point of his elbow to face him, and open his legs a little. 

“Allora, that’s what they tell me,”

“Well,” The kid’s mouth stretches wider once he realizes he’s got Vale’s attention. He's thrilled. Perfect. “Can I buy you a drink?”

Vale ignores the question. This guy’s Italian is clumsy, thick in his mouth, and they’re at Mugello, so this is a bit strange. He raises an eyebrow and tugs on his earring, surveying him.

“You’re Spanish, no? You weren’t rooting for Lorenzo, maybe?”

The kid shakes his head, oddly confident. “No no, when I was young I liked Pedrosa, I wanted to be just like him.”

“Ah, Dani,” He says knowingly. This guy is short and Spanish, so that makes sense.

“Him, and you.” He adds on, and flushes prettily, pink on his cheeks, looking at Vale with a clean, incongruous sort of intensity. 

“Me, huh?” He stretches back and lets his eyes go half lidded, dragging up and down the kid’s body. “What's your name?”

“Marc,” he says, and brightens immediately, taking a seat next to Vale like he’s got permission, like he’s won something. He orders two shots of tequila without asking Vale what he likes. Jesus, he is young.

When he turns his overeager gaze back to Vale, a curl of hair flops into his face, bolting dark and inky down his forehead. Low light throws his cheekbones into sharp relief, and it’s striking. He's striking. Vale likes it. Marc licks his lips like it’s a habit. His hands are broad and his wrists are small, delicate, tapping jittery little patterns on the slab of the bar. His pinky is crooked, it matches Vale’s.

He takes him in.

“So, do you want to tell me why?” He asks.

“What?” Marc grins, surprised and confused and delighted.

“Tell me why.” Vale repeats, to watch the confusion deepen.

“Why, what?”

“Oh— why you like me, over Dani. And Jorge,” He adds like it’s an afterthought. It’s not.

“What, do you need an ego boost?” Marc replies, a burst of something behind his eyes, a little bit of a challenge. He laughs hard after he says it, but Vale doubts he was fully joking. 

He finds himself wanting to know how many different emotions Marc’s smile can actually be a cover for, wants to examine and catalog them, find out what he can say to crack the mask, break the seal.

He smile even wider, like he thought it was just as funny as Marc did, and makes it sleazy. It's a game, now. He loves games. Maybe Marc will be able to play.

“Ah, an insider secret for you—riding is a game of confidence. You say you’re a fan?” Marc nods fast. He leans forwards and watches Marc’s pupils blow out, more ink spilling. He wants to write a letter with it, wants to draw something. “Then of course you should want me to be confident, so I can win. You know, that would make me very happy.”

Marc holds his eyes for a moment. They spark. He bites at his lip again.

“Really? You want to know what I like about you?”

“I do.”

“Can you do me a favor first?” Marc knocks back his tequila, then looks at Vale through his lashes. Coy. He can play.

“Hm,” Vale refuses to commit. He's curious, though, in more ways than one.

Marc could ask for anything, and Vale could decide whether or not to give it to him.

“I have something for you to sign.”

That’s easy—perfect, even. Vale looks around, Marc’s hands are empty, “Where is it?”

Marc grins suddenly, flavored with victory. Vale wonders how it tastes.

“Back at my hotel room.”

Once Vale has finished laughing, they go.

*

Still eager, still young, Marc kisses him before the door is even closed. Bites at his lips while Vale tries to talk, hands hungry on his body as if Vale’s going to take off and leave in the middle of the fucking hookup. He hears a door slam and smoothly suppresses a flinch. Marc doesn't see, which is good. He has a part to play here.

“Hey hey hey, you know, I know you are not famous,” Marc chuffs out a belly laugh, jajajas against Vale’s neck at the joke. “But paparazzi, they do follow me. I don’t want my picture in the paper next to my one night stand, it could ah,” Marc nips at his earring, plays with it with his tongue, lets Vale squeeze the muscle of his ass. “Ruin my reputation.”

“Is that what I am?” Marc breaks off of the hickey he was working onto the skin behind Vale’s ear and hooks two fingers into his belt, hauling him into the room. He kicks the door shut. “A one night stand?”

“I fly out tomorrow,” Vale lies regretfully, and Marc smirks at him a little too knowingly, then drops to his knees.

“You asked me what I liked about you,” He says, working at Vale’s belt, his fly. Vale flips off his shirt, toes off his shoes.

“I did,” He starts, and Marc leans in.

When he’s got him out, he takes the head into his mouth, throat working in slick sounds as he slides further down, starts to work the base in his hand. Vale works not to moan, biting the inside of his cheek, and he thinks Marc cant tell, because he looks up at him like he would smile, if not for Vale’s cock in his mouth.

“I like that,” Marc says once he pulls off, wiping a little at his face in a prissy sort of movement. His lips are shining, a bruised, swollen red color, and there’s still some spit sloppy on his chin. He leans forward and licks at the blunt head, one broad, flat, long stroke that makes Vale’s toes curl from the power of the sensation, the vulnerability of it, and then he stays close. Speaks with his lips against the delicate, overheated skin of Vale’s dick. “Will that help you win?”

Vale catches his breath, blows out some air from his cheeks, loosely curling a hand in the mess of Marc’s curls. He feels out of sorts, off balance. Thrilled.

“Well, you know it cannot hurt,” Masking how eager he is with a joke, to lance the sensation, make it a little less keen. How bad he wants it. it’s not even new, he’s been in this position hundreds of times— it shouldn’t feel like it is. He shouldn’t need it like this, like if Marc walks out of the room he’d be taking a chunk of Vale with him.

“So, ah.” He covers, remembers what he should say. “What was it that you wanted me to sign?”

Marc giggles and stands, shucking off his clothes as he does. Smooth skin, built thighs, compact body full of muscle and scar tissue. Vale looks hungrily. His cock is hard and big, hanging between his legs.

Oblivious to Vale's eyes or pretending to be, Marc sits on the bed and gestures to his body, twirls the marker between his fingers. “Could you?” He asks sweetly, and Vale realizes that what Marc wants him to sign is himself. 

His dick throbs. This kid.

“Where?” He asks, smoothing a smooth hand over Marc’s shoulder and gently pushing him back against the bed. Marc arranges himself against the pillows easily, boyish smile huge on his face.

“Wherever you want,” And Vale kneels over him, sits back on the solid shape of his torso so he can feel Marc’s big dick twitch against him, get that feedback. Vale settles, surveys, palms himself. Marc swallows.

“I think here,” He muses, splaying his fingers like a frame and holding them above Marc’s right nipple. 

“Does that look right to you?”

“Yeah,” Marc breathes. 

He plucks the marker from Marc’s fingers, asks, “Is there anyone I should make out the message too?”

His brown eyes are wide, bottom eyelashes spiky against his cheek. Butter wouldn’t melt. “No,”

“No one? No boyfriend? Girlfriend?” He's trailing his other hand over Marc’s pecs now, pinching at his nipple to see him squirm, tease him a little. Hips buck up, rubbing his erection against Vale’s ass and blurting a wet streak of pre-come there.

“There is someone— an older guy from around here, but we haven’t slept together yet so I don’t know if he’s, how do you say it in Italian— leading me on,” Marc says impatiently, still trying to fuck up against Vale, and Vale laughs, spits, and starts to work himself in his hand.

“Okay, okay,” He uncaps the marker with his mouth and positions his other hand over the smooth skin of Marc’s chest. He signs his name, Valentino Rossi, in silver against golden skin, and Marc shudders, a full body tremor, as the nib drags over his skin in a practiced stroke. His mouth drops open, still pink from Vale’s cock, and Vale presses his thumb hard against the nipple when he finishes, and throws the marker on the floor.

"God," is dragged out of Marc like he cant help it. Vale doesn't know if he's talking to him or not. He fists himself from tip to base.

His hand picks up its pace, fixes on the shine of his name on Marc, the way he’s whining now, small noises as his he moves in little abortive thrusts against Vale’s thigh. He grinds down, braces his free hand on Marc’s tit, framing it, and runs his mouth, mindless, says Marc’s name over and over until it's all he can think, all he can think.

“Marc, Marc,” He murmurs, and his dick kicks in his hand, and he comes, stunned, all over his name splashed across Marc’s chest. He makes a noise, one he can't help, and finds that he barely minds.

Marc doesn't let him recover, his hips still shoving upward, his hands an urgent grip on Vale’s thigh.

“Vale,” He whines, demanding, and without really thinking Vale scoots backward, bending down and sucking Marc into his mouth, working him over hard, until he can hear Marc make a noise and twist his fingers into the fabric of the sheets. He looks up at his face, at the color high on his face and the furrow of his brow as he pants. He wants to see it happen. Wants to make sure.

One suck, two sucks, and then a flood— Marc tensing and twisting, thighs coming up to Vale’s temples, and it’s over, Marc twitching and gasping through the aftershocks, the silver of the marker and Vale’s come shiny on his chest. 

“That was fun,” He says dreamily, and Vale hums, feels a little dizzy. He wants to bite at Marc’s thigh, so he does. He'd rather taste sweat than come. Rather mark him in more ways than one, than two. Wants it any way that he can have it.

Marc pets his head lazily, rucking up the sweaty curls in a familiar motion, and then reaches over to the nightstand and puts on his wedding ring, twisting it down his finger.

“We should do that again,” He sits up to grab his phone— probably checking messages from Álex. Vale crawls up to flop next to him, leaning over the bed and grabbing a t-shirt to mop up the mess on Marc’s chest. He doesn’t like to be sticky for too long.

“Yes, yes we should,” He agrees.

Marc hums.

“Next time, I get to be the rider, I think.”

“Really? Eight time champion Marc Marquez picking up fans in bars? I could tell the papers.” He tosses the shirt over his shoulder.

Marc shoots him a look over his phone, then reaches, hand catching at Vale’s wrist and hauling him back close.

“Oh, but I thought I was not famous.”

Vale grins, collapses in to hear Marc grunt at the crush of his weight, to press his face against the soft skin of Marc’s armpit. He traces his name, and then traces Marc's scar.

“Caught that, did you?”

Marc winds an arm around his back. Keeps him there.

“Hm, yeah I did.”

“I was getting into character.”

“The character is you.”

“Yes, and I am a funny guy.” Vale says, and then he reaches up to turn off the light.

[allllium]

Master Plan Pt. 2

Jason x reader fake dating

~ This is a little short but the next one will be longer

~ WC: 899, They discuss a fake background

~ Jason is anxious about your plan

"Why do you plan to do? Walk in, say we're dating, and expect them all to believe it? Out of nowhere?" You ask him in confusion, Jason knows his family very well and he knows they wouldn't fall for it.

"Well what do you want to do? They won't believe it either way."

"Don't be such a downer."

"I still don't know why we're doing this. It seems dramatic."

"Yes it does that's exactly the point Jason."

"None of this makes any sense." He rolls his eyes and walks into his bedroom. You follow closely behind him.

"It makes perfect sense. Seeing your family will help you feel better, Jason whether you want to believe it or not. And this way, they'll all be so thrown off by the announcement of our relationship, they won't ask about other things. You can spend the next few weeks playing pretend and healing without their overbearing questions."

"Yeah, I guess I can see it that way." He sits down on his bed with small sigh.

"Hey." You sit down next to him, "Everything will be okay."

"I know, I would just like it to be okay now, not however far along."

You pull his hand into yours to comfort him. You've been friends for so long that small touch like this doesn't bother either of you.

"We'll work on it."

"Why are you so instinct on helping me?"

"Because we're friends, believe it or not I enjoy your company. When you're not being so mopey that is."

"Hey I am not mopey." He quickly defends.

"If not mopey then what are you?"

"Something else that's not mopey." He admits quietly.

"That's what I thought. Now backstory." You pull out a piece of paper from one of the notebooks Jason has on his dresser.

"Do we really need a backstory? Just tell we started dating a little bit ago."

"Oh no. If we're doing this, we're doing it properly. That means we're creating a backstory and answers to any questions they might ask."

"You've certainly thought this through."

"Yes I have because I want this to work. You realize if it doesn't they'll make fun of us for the rest of forever?"

"Which makes me wonder even more what you're real motive is for doing this?"

"Is it wrong to want to trick your family?"

"Not at all." You also want to help him in any way you can, it's what friends do.

"No that makes no sense." You're quickly learning not to take any of his words seriously. He's disagreeing with basically everything you say.

"Yes it does Jason." It's been almost an hour and you've gotten almost nothing done.

"No it doesn't. I would never do something extravagant to ask someone out." He shrugs and takes a chip from the plate on the coffee table.

"Why not? Relationships need a certain type of romance and work."

"I'd rather celebrate with a quiet night at home and a homemade dinner."

"Fine, we'll say that."

"What else?"

"I don't know. What do you think is appropriate for your family to know?"

"Nothing. My relationships are none of their business." You aren't surprised by his attitude with this. He doesn't like telling them anything about his personal life.

"Jason." You say sternly. Despite his words, there must be something he's thinking of. He knows how his family is.

"They'll probably ask who made the first move and when we realized our feelings."

"That's good, now you're thinking."

"So what do we say?" He asks with an uncaring tone.

"Well Jason, when did you realize you're feelings for me?"

"I felt some hatred since the moment I met you if that counts." He smiles like he's pround of himself.

"That's not nice. If you don't take this seriously, I'll have no choice but to make everything up myself and I'll make it so embarrassing for you you'll never want to leave the house."

"I'll tell them it's when we were-" He takes a pause. "Making dinner together for Alfred's birthday."

"That makes sense. Good job." He rolls his eyes.

"What about you?"

"I'll say the same. It'll mean more."

"Alright then."

The two of you fall into a strange silence and you can't pinpoint why. Of course it's been very awkward trying to talk about things like this. Making up lies about feelings neither of you have.

The whole time you're talking, he can't seem to keep eye contact with you longer than a split second. You want to ask him what's wrong but you know it's weird enough with the tension in the room and he'll probably not respond well to any personal questions.

The rest of the night is spent working on a backstory well enough to fool Damien and Alfred. Unlike Bruce, they both focus on the small details when it comes to stuff like this.

Dick and the others won't be a problem because they'll be so happy with Jason having a actual relationship.

You tell Jason all of this and by the way his body immediately relaxes you can tell it eased a lot of his nerves.

You start to question whether or not this is something you really want to go through with. You're scared it could ruin your relationship with him if it goes wrong but on the other hand it truly does seem like his best chance.

[bestalbertcamuslover]

Platinum Blonde

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶

✯ pairing:  RB! Sebastian Vettel x Engineer! Reader ✯

✯ content warnings: none ✯

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶

Coming back to work after the break wasn’t the most thrilling experience. Sure, she loved her job, but there was something about vacation that always seemed sweeter—maybe just a little more time off would’ve been nice. However, any lingering post-vacation blues vanished the moment she walked into the paddock and saw that sight.

Sebastian Vettel, rocking platinum blonde hair.

She blinked, doing a double take as if her eyes were playing tricks on her. That hair color—so bold, so unexpected—had an oddly magnetic effect on her. She always thought he was good-looking and undeniably charming, but somehow, the shock of bright blonde only amplified it. She found herself stealing glances, fighting the urge to stare, wondering how such a simple change could leave her feeling so off-balance.

She threw herself into her work, as focused as ever, yet every break felt like a betrayal of her resolve. Her eyes would inevitably wander, seeking him out across the garage or wherever he happened to be. What’s wrong with me? she wondered, internally chastising herself as her thoughts began to drift into muddier, more unprofessional territories.

The question that kept looping in her mind—the one that embarrassed her more than anything—was whether he noticed. Did he catch her staring? Did he notice how her words stumbled slightly whenever he walked by? That ridiculous hair color wasn’t helping either. It only made him more distracting, more present.

She shook her head, trying to dismiss the idea, but deep down, the thought made her heart race. What if he knew? What if he could see right through her calm façade? The possibility both terrified and thrilled her.

She had just managed to lose herself in her clipboard and notes when the shadow fell over her desk. She looked up, and there he was. The hair was just as bright under the sunlight as it had been in the garage, and the smirk on his face told her that he had caught her off guard.

“Busy as ever, huh?” Sebastian said, his voice warm and laced with playful curiosity.

She blinked, scrambling to gather her composure. “Yeah, you know, making sure everything’s perfect,” she replied, gesturing to the papers in front of her like they were the most important thing in the world.

His smirk deepened. “That’s good. Though I have to say, you seem... distracted today.”

Her stomach flipped. Did he know? Did he actually notice the way she’d been stealing glances all day? “Distracted? No, I’m just focused,” she said quickly, forcing a tight smile.

“Focused,” he repeated, his tone teasing, as if he didn’t buy it for a second. He leaned slightly closer, resting a hand on the edge of her desk. “Is that why you’ve been staring at me every chance you get?”

Her cheeks burned instantly, and she fumbled for a response, caught completely off guard by his boldness. “I wasn’t staring” she stated, but even to her, the denial sounded unconvincing.

His grin grew wider, and he tilted his head, studying her with those sharp, knowing eyes. “No? Must’ve been my imagination, then,” he said lightly, though his tone made it clear he didn’t believe her for a second.

She opened her mouth to respond, but couldn’t think of anything that didn’t sound like an admission. He let her squirm for a moment before stepping back, giving her space to breathe.

“I’m just messing with you,” he said, his voice softer now, though there was still a mischievous glint in his eye. “But if you do have any thoughts on the hair, feel free to share.”

She hesitated, caught between embarrassment and the undeniable pull of his easy charm. Finally, she blurted out, “It’s… bold.”

Sebastian chuckled, running a hand through his platinum locks. “Bold, huh? I’ll take that as a compliment.”

She managed a small laugh, finally starting to relax. “It’s definitely… eye-catching.”

“Good to know,” he said, giving her a wink before straightening up. “Well, don’t work too hard, okay? I’d hate to think I’m the one distracting you.”

Before she could respond, he walked away, leaving her with her heart racing and her thoughts spinning. That grin, that hair—it was going to be a very long weekend.

And it was, yet, a great weekend for the team as Sebastian won the race with a large gap behind him. The exhilaration from wins was always strong, and gosh, her stomach felt like a nest of butterflies after they had all drunk a few Red Bulls.

The team’s celebration was in full swing. Music thumped, champagne flowed freely, and laughter filled the air. But she couldn’t shake the feeling of her heart pounding for reasons beyond the race. It wasn’t the thrill of the victory—it was the sight of Sebastian, his platinum hair slightly mussed, his grin wide as he soaked up the joy of the moment. He was magnetic, more so than usual, and it was driving her mad.

After a while, she needed a break from the noise and slipped away from the crowd, weaving through the garage to find some peace. She found herself close to Sebastian’s driver’s room, the door slightly ajar. Peeking in, she saw him sitting on the couch, his race suit peeled down to his waist, a bottle of water in hand. He looked up and saw her hovering in the doorway.

“Hey,” he said, his voice softer than it had been all night. “Hiding from the party?”

She smiled sheepishly and stepped inside. “Something like that. Needed some air.”

He gestured to the spot beside him. “Come in. I promise not to celebrate too loudly.”

She hesitated for a moment before taking the seat, the quiet hum of the garage a stark contrast to the chaos outside. They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, and then he spoke again, his tone teasing. “So, was it the hair? Did it bring me luck?”

She laughed, shaking her head. “No, I think it was the driver.”

“Good answer,” he said, leaning back against the couch, his gaze lingering on her. “You seemed pretty excited out there. Nice to see you loosen up.”

She rolled her eyes but smiled. “It’s hard not to when the team does so well.”

He nodded, but his eyes didn’t leave her. “And yet, you still seem a little... distracted.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “I could say the same about you,” she countered, trying to deflect.

He smirked. “Touché. But let’s not pretend we don’t both know what’s going on here.”

Her stomach flipped at his words, the intensity in his gaze making it hard to breathe. “Seb, I—”

Before she could finish, he leaned in, closing the small distance between them. His lips brushed hers softly, testing, giving her every chance to pull away. But she didn’t. Instead, she leaned into him, her hands finding his shoulders as the kiss deepened.

When they finally broke apart, her cheeks were flushed, and his grin was wider than she’d ever seen. “Guess that’s one way to celebrate,” he said, his voice low and teasing.

She laughed, her nerves melting into something warmer. “Don’t get used to it,” she joked, though the look in her eyes said otherwise.

“Oh, I will,” he replied, his tone full of playful confidence. “You’ll just have to deal with it.”

Before she could fire back a response, he leaned in, catching her off guard as his lips pressed against hers. It was soft at first, testing the waters, but when she didn’t pull away—when she leaned into him instead—it deepened. Her hands instinctively reached up, fingers brushing through his hair. That hair.

When they finally broke apart, both slightly breathless, he raised an eyebrow, his playful grin returning. “So... do you hate it?”

“Hate it?” she repeated, laughing softly as she ran her fingers through the strands again, this time with purpose. “Seb, I loved it the second I saw it. It’s infuriating how much it affects me.”

His grin widened, clearly pleased. “Infuriating, huh? I can live with that.”

She rolled her eyes, but there was no denying the warmth in her gaze. “I mean, it’s obnoxiously bold and completely unnecessary, but somehow... it works.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he teased, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “So, you’re saying the platinum blonde was a good decision?”

She sighed dramatically, though the way her hands stayed tangled in his hair betrayed her. “I’m saying it’s... distracting. You walk into a room, and I forget how to form coherent sentences.”

Sebastian laughed, the sound low and warm as his hands rested on her waist. “Good to know. I’ll keep that in mind next time I need to get your attention.”

“You’re insufferable,” she muttered, though her smile said otherwise.

“And you’re still holding onto my hair,” he pointed out with a wink.

“Oh, shut up,” she said, pulling him back in for another kiss, this one bolder, as if to prove a point.

He didn’t argue, and instead leaned into the kiss, his hands finding her waist.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶

✯ authors note: I really love platinum blonde hair, is such a turn on tbh

English is not my first language and I hope you liked it <3

[sassypleia]

Hope and Body Language help us believe in what we see. It is what makes us believe and have opinions.

A New Hope ⬆️ . Get it?! (Hahaha) Also, message read CRYSTAL clear.

We all hope, we wish, we visualize. We wish the best for Nic and Luke, whether they are together or not. I have said it before I will keep saying it; in my opinion they are together. I don’t care what you think, it’s my opinion and if you do not agree…. Well why are you on this page? Also, go touch grass if you want to spread hate on others opinions.

Hope: “A feeling of expectation and desire for a certain thing to happen” (Oxford Languages).

In this fandom I’ve seen some pretty interesting things. Some good, some great and some embarrassingly bad things. But in the end, we are all hoping for a specific outcome. It may not be the same outcome but we wish a resolution and to see Nic and Luke happy ofcourse.

Our girl Nic, she’s not afraid to keep showing us that she does not care (to a point) and she will keep going out and supporting all her FRIENDS. Luke has changed his patterns (Nic slightly as well) but we keep seeing less of Luke out and about. Their social media patterns have changed. I WONDER WHY?!

***cough*** ***cough*** ***cough***

When patterns change, when we see non-verbal body language that is YELLING at us, it signals to our brain that this means something.

“Body language is the use of physical behavior, expressions, and mannerisms to communicate nonverbally, often done instinctively rather than consciously. Whether you’re aware of it or not, when you interact with others, you’re continuously giving and receiving wordless signals. All of your nonverbal behaviors—the gestures you make, your posture, your tone of voice, how much eye contact you make—send strong messages” (https://www.helpguide.org/relationships/communication/nonverbal-communication).

So, in the mean time…. While we are waiting. Ship them. Ship Nic and Luke. With each other, with whoever your heart desires. Ship respectfully. But just know. What I ship, it’s Nic with Luke. Everything I have seen points me in that direction. Their body language from the WT interview gives me hope. Everything they have said about one another (whether next to each other or with others) has given me hope.

Just play nice everyone. They will tell us on their own time.

I would also encourage everyone, only share pictures that the actors themselves put out or ones from events that they attend (also okay anyone from their team). Save the rest for private chats. And for heavens sake : DON’T TAG THEM.

Let’s see if we can help change the narrative with the positivity and support.

Xx 🩵

[letteredlettered]

Hello there! I recently read your thoughts about By the Grace, in which you mentioned that you've never been happy with how it turned out. (I am one of the readers who love BtG, btw, I found it transformative in the sense that i loved it so much that I felt changed afterwards. my comments trace my slow disintegration 😅). I wondered if you'd be willing to share which fics of yours you like the best - which fics came out as you wanted them to, which fics make you feel understood and known? (Totally understand if this is too personal an ask btw but just thought I'd see if it's something you'd like to share).

Well, hi. You sent this ask in August of 2022. I am apparently very very behind on a lot of things. I just had a lot to say to you and didn't have the energy to say it. I'm currently dealing with some health issues so fandom is actually now one of the only things I have energy for, so here I am.

The first thing I want to say is how glad I am that you liked By the Grace. It's hard not to love something I've written, but I think it shows so much about our humanity that something I find so deeply imperfect could be something that really worked for you. Thank you so, so much for all your kind words.

The second thing I want to say is that for me, the fics I like best are the one that came out as I wanted them to, but they are not necessarily the ones that make me feel seen and known. For instance, I wrote By the Grace because I felt upset about the world, and I also felt upset about some things in fandom that felt like an ugly reflection of the world in a place where I didn't want to have to think about such things. The fact that people love BtG, in spite of its flaws, makes me feel that people understood what I was trying to say, no matter how imperfectly I said it; they care about its message and its values, even if I couldn't deliver those messages and values in the way I hoped and worked for.

Another example is The Way Down. The Way Down is one of the first Harry/Draco fics I ever wrote. I started writing it in 2007, and I was in a very difficult place at the time. It was two years after I finished college; I still wasn't doing anything with my life; I felt like a failure. I started to want to stay inside, never leave the house, never see anyone I knew, never do anything but talk to people on the internet all day long. Incidentally I felt very lonely and left out of the fandom I wanted to be a part of, which was H/D. No one was interested in my writing and I couldn't make friends in that community. I couldn't finish the fic. I got myself out of that situation, moved across the country, got a job, made new friends, and also stopped caring as much about whether my fic was popular. I was able to finish the fic because I as a person changed, and that fic reflects both parts of that journey. I don't actually think it's a good fic; some of the characterizations are too fanon for my taste; some of the scenes are a bit too silly; a lot of the deeper parts don't go deep enough. But when someone loves that fic, when it really touches someone, it's like they're loving me as I was then, loving the fact that I got myself out of it, loving a person who can struggle in that way. And that means so much to me.

Meanwhile, Away Childish Things is a perfect fic to me. It came out exactly as I wanted and said so much about both Harry and Draco that I had been wanting to say, that I felt I hadn't been seeing in fic. I knew it was good when I was writing it. Frankly, I thought people would like it, and I was right. I'm not sure that people loving it makes me feel seen and understood. It's not like ACT isn't a personal story for me--it's terribly personal! But I don't think it's saying things that make me feel bad about myself, or that I think other people or the world are struggling with. It's a sharp story that I think many people can identify with from different directions.

In terms of fics that turned out exactly as I hoped, The Eighth Tale is another such fic. It always makes the list because I had this idea for so, so long--a fic in which the war didn't go as it was "supposed" to, but instead drags on and on and on, a fic in which the canonical ending is glimpsed, but other endings are glimpsed too, a fic in which universes collide into the idea that the ending is never set, it's always the choices we make that give us our own endings. But whenever I imagined such a fic it was half a million words long, and while such a fic sounds interesting, I am so glad that @tacktigerfic would come along so many years later to write that grand epic. Meanwhile, what I had in mind was just a little paradox timey-wimey business that should take only 15-20K to get out into the world. I just didn't know how to do it. But finally, I read a fic that really inspired me with its voice (in a completely different fandom; it's Crow on the Cradle by Refur in SPN fandom if anyone is interested) and it helped me to understand I would need a very particular narrative voice to make this fic happen. Then I sat down and wrote it in about two or three sittings. It's exactly what I meant to do.

Ginny Weasley: Dragon Slayer is a similar fic in that it did exactly what I wanted to, and I wasn't sure I would get there. I think both of these fics are things I often think of as perfect because I have a habit of having rather small ideas that quickly turn huge and unwieldy. It's why BtG is a problem, imo. I love that I was able to make these fics concisely what I wanted them to be, no more, no less.

There are fics in other fandoms that are exactly what I want them to be: Sincerely Your Pal, in Captain America fandom, Say More in The Untamed (CQL) fandom. The End Resting Only on Air is the perfect end to my series of fics in The Walking Dead fandom. I still think Or Even Rearrange You has the best Tony Stark voice I've read, and that's cool because I wrote it. The Chuck Writes Story for SPN fandom is one of the cleverest and most incisive things I've written, because it's about SPN fandom more than SPN--and I happened to write it before SPN even had the mythos that it does now. But in terms of fics that make me feel seen/understood and I'm perfectly happy with how they are written, Responsible Science in MCU is always my answer to which fic I've written is my favorite fic for a reason (although it's actually a series). That Lesson Alone in Schitt's Creek fandom is probably one of the most personal things I have ever written, and I wouldn't change a word of it.

But in H/D fandom, if you want a fic of mine that I'm happy with, that came out exactly as I envisioned, and makes me feel seen and understood, only one fits the bill: The Pure and Simple Truth. I actually don't think the writing is perfect--I would tighten it up a little, maybe. But it's exactly what I wanted to write, and it was so fun to write; I still think it's fun to read. But on top of that, this fic is also trying to say something about morality that I think is really fundamental to who I am. It's trying to say things about friendship and forgiveness that I believe with my whole soul. It's trying to say things about conversation, what that means for people, what that can build, what community is and what it isn't. I've gotten a few comments over the years from people saying they didn't really understand it. I've also gotten a lot of comments yelling at me about it because there isn't a kiss at the end. I've also seen people saying that the fic is suggesting that Neville's a bad person because he struggles to forgive folks who tortured him, which is the exact opposite of what the fic is about.

But when people do get this fic, when they comment or message me to tell me what it means to them to see folks who have hurt each other, some of whom have been actual torturers and part of hate groups, come together and grow from that, discuss that, and learn to love in spite all of that...wow, that makes me feel like the things I care about aren't just mine; other people feel that way, which is a wonderful feeling.

[alacants]

The source of those rumors is a guy from Carlos's family's tennis club who is close to Kiko Navarro & knows some members of Carlos's team & is a regular collaborator with Punto de Break. According to him (he's said this before) Carlos & Juanki had a significant fight towards the end of 2023. But the claim that they nearly split up back then came from someone else who's less reliable.

As for 2025, the first guy says Carlos's dad has apparently not been happy with what Juanki is doing for a while... but it seems like Carlos doesn't agree. If things don't turn around after clay season his family might push for changes to the team.

From my perspective it's hard to understand the coaching strategy sometimes. Like you said Juanki's strength is not tactics but it seems like that's what Carlos really needs. This is just one example but I think it's crazy that he sat on court in silence for three sets without suggesting Carlos change his return position v Djokovic - Carlos eventually figured it out... in the last game of the match. And that was honestly the main factor in him losing. You could argue Juanki wanted him to figure it out himself but why on earth did they not discuss that beforehand when it also cost him massively at the Olympics (which Carlos said he didn't even think about before the match?)

I know Juanki's whole thing is treating team like family but there are a lot top coaches who say that after 5ish years a coach has nothing to give a player anymore & I wonder if their partnership has run its natural course. Carlos doesn't seem any more tactically equipped than he was two years ago & his technicals have mostly not improved either (return... backhand...).

thanks for this background - after replying to some earlier asks i dug around and saw some folks citing punto de break but not any specifics so this is appreciated. this does immediately increase the credibility to me bc i know pdb values their access and would not jeopardize it for nothing lmao. tho if it's like, a guy who sometimes writes for them and is mostly posting on his own time... i guess that's somewhere in the middle. (btw i still haven't seen anything other than reports of reports of reports? if you've got links i would very much appreciate them!)

as usual i think we're looking at two questions here: could carlos benefit from a different coach, and does carlos want a different coach.

i think we are all in agreement that for carlos to continue to develop as a player he needs something he's not getting at the moment, whether we're thinking in terms of incorporating a new addition to the team or making a wholesale switch. and i don't disagree with you at all about the natural lifespan of a coaching relationship. i've cited this before in discussions of juanki's own career (stuck with one guy; was it a mistake?) and of ferru's (split but waited too long; chalked the delay up to personal feelings).

but as long as it's presented to carlos as an all-or-nothing choice i don't think he's there yet and i would not be surprised to find out that his recent post-match declarations were a message. (tbc it very much MIGHT be an all-or-nothing choice, regulars here know i have plenty of thoughts about the academy lmao.)

the thing is that at this point the unknowns are still really, really risky. if you've had the same coach for most of your teen/adult years and you're ready to strike out and try something new, then that's exciting and stimulating and you're in a good place to make the best of it. but if you're dragging your feet? if you feel like you've been pushed? maybe someone else could give you more, but you have to be ready to receive it, you know? if you're an environment that you know enables you overall to perform at a high level (4 grand slams), where you feel overall confident and supported even if you're lacking direction in some big matches, where you get value from your coach's presence above and beyond the specifics of tennis--it is inherently going to be a risk to make a big change and if you're not all in on doing so the risks will be even more likely to find you.

that's why i keep saying is that i don't see it happening unless carlos' results gets much worse than this--or, potentially, unless a voice that holds as much weight with him as juanki's (so, his dad) gets strong enough that he listens to it. that might be where we're headed!

(incidentally i have feinted at this without saying so explicitly, but there is an unbelievable amount of money riding on carlos' success or lack thereof--i don't mean prize money, i mean his brand as a star--and it would be naive to pretend that's not a factor in decision-making. that's one of the reasons i've pointed to a sustained slump, rather than one or two disappointing slams. when the results start to affect the brand.)

just talked this over with friend who compared the ideal set-up to darren/simone for jannik--supervisory coach + tactical/court coach. if so, then the question is whether they come to that same conclusion and get the set-up in place before the decision is out of their hands, so to speak.

[ashleyrowanthewriter]

The News - Life and Times of Ashley the Crow (Crow HRT 6)

Previous

*************

Whenever a prominent and famous otherkin announces that they decide to transition into their species completely, and especially after they finish the process, it becomes the number one hot topic among the community. That was such a day.

"So they really made it through?" Arja said, looking into the sky.

"Yes. Half the fan base is in chaos."

"Lucky them. I wonder where they are now."

"Nobody's really sure. I bet on some lonely cave in the mountains."

Something about the clouds that day felt fervent that day. The world opened a new chapter.

"You know, they were a very big figure. A lot is going on. It feels like the greatest debate in the world."

"It really seems to dislike the idea of discarding your humanity just like that."

"It always tries to stop social changes. Individual, collective, one dog."

"So how loud are those who think it's suicide of the mind?"

"Greatly."

Arja sighed. "I fucking knew it."

"But other sides are getting believers too."

"And what do you think?"

"That you're still yourself. It's just your behaviour that aligns with your body."

"That's a nice way of looking at it."

"That's what the most proves point to."

Our talk brought my mind to a topic I wanted to move for a long time.

"Arja, do you want to go all the way?"

"Would you miss me?"

"Maybe. But I would root for you and appreciate our time together."

"Even if I had to go to a lonely cave in the mountains?"

"Yes, I'd get ready for that."

"Aw, that's sweet. But no, I'd much prefer to go for hybridisation."

"I see. Then I guess you're close. You'll be mighty, I'm sure."

"Thank you, sweetheart." Arja made a pause. She wasn't sure whether or not she wanted to ask her question. "Hey, if you could do it then how far would you go? Don't answer if you're not comfortable."

"All the way."

"Really?"

"Don't tell me there were no signs."

"I mean, there were. But with how much you like to write I wasn't sure."

"I think talons and the beak are enough to use a keyboard."

I quickly realised I wasn't telling Arja the entire truth. I knew that I should be more honest.

"Well, that's what I would like to say."

"It's not just about that. My body takes anything medical worse and worse recently. I'm afraid that if I tried to do it it would destroy me. And I'm not even talking about my heart anymore."

"Eh, as if it all couldn't leave you."

"Yeah."

"But didn't you got through much tougher stuff?"

"Last time I had new complications."

"And would you like Her to win?"

I knew who Arja referred to as Her. If you are in the otherkin community you have for sure heard about a particular writer. One that really wants us gone. One that I swore to one day be better than.

"True. I can let a lot of people win, but not Her."

"Now that's the Ashley I know."

"Hey one more thing."

"Yeah?"

"Would you like me to be your pet?"

"I don't think one can keep crows."

"Well, that sucks. And I guess that's another reason why I don't know anymore."

"Hey, we can still be friends. I can leave you fruits in a feeder."

"Thanks. I don't know what I could do for you though."

"Oh, just peck on the uninvited guests."

"And without violence?"

"I'm sure you'll figure something out."

*************

My crow cooldown has ended and here I go. I wanted to write about something else and less emotionally, but I changed my plans after I saw the last page from @ayviedoesthings . I think half the community did.

Also, for those who are like me and have a hard time learning idioms, "one dog" means roughly "there's no difference" and I encountered it in Polish.

Aha. Maybe there's a good reason why you can't adopt crows in many regions of the world, but not for a constitutional homo marriage ban. Caw with me if you agree.

[girlyrafe]

──── ʜᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴍᴇᴛ .ᐟ

ᡣ𐭩 ❝ ꜱᴏꜰᴛ¡ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ⟡ ݁₊ ❞

⌗ with chris sturniolo .ᐟ.ᐟ

ᝰ summary .ᐟ You didn’t expect Chris to be so disarming. Sitting across from him, your nerves settle without warning, his easy grin pulling you in. He’s not what you imagined—gentler, curious. And somehow, he sees you.

₊ ⊹ ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

You hover near the doorway, unsure what to do with yourself. Your boyfriend had practically barged in, talking too loudly as he shook hands with the guy he called Chris, leaving you trailing behind like an afterthought. Now you’re standing there, feeling completely out of place, your hands clutching your bag, your eyes flickering nervously around the room.

Chris isn’t anything like you imagined. You’d pictured someone intimidating, maybe rough around the edges—someone who matched the world your boyfriend seemed so comfortable in. But Chris? He’s… different. He looks relaxed in a way that draws your eyes immediately, slouched in a chair like he owns the place, his tousled brown hair poking out from under a backwards cap. His baby-blue eyes flick to you once, then again, lingering just a little longer this time, his gaze soft but curious.

“Gotta light up,” your boyfriend announces suddenly, stuffing a baggie into his pocket. His tone is careless as he jerks his chin toward the door. “Don’t touch anything, alright?”

The door slams shut behind him before you can respond, leaving you alone with Chris. You freeze, not sure whether to sit or stand or say something, and the silence feels heavy for a moment. When you glance up, Chris is watching you, his head tilted slightly, like he’s trying to figure you out.

“You don’t have to just stand there,” he says finally, his voice warm and teasing. “Come on, sit. I don’t bite.” Then he pauses, a playful glint lighting up his eyes. “Unless, you know, you’re into that.”

Your face goes warm immediately, and you let out a nervous little laugh, unsure whether to be embarrassed or amused. You decide to sit, perching carefully on the edge of his couch, your knees pressed together, your back impossibly straight. You can feel his eyes on you, and it makes your heart race in a way you’re not used to.

Chris leans back in his chair, stretching out comfortably, his gaze never leaving you. “Relax,” he says softly, his lips quirking into a lopsided grin. “You’re safe. Promise. I’m not as scary as your boyfriend probably made me sound.”

You blink, surprised by the way his voice makes you feel—calmer, somehow, even though you’re still clutching your bag tightly. “He didn’t really say much about you,” you admit shyly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Well, that’s rude,” Chris replies, pretending to be offended. His grin widens, and there’s something about it—about him—that feels… safe. Inviting. “Here I thought I was unforgettable.”

You let out a quiet laugh, still fidgeting with the strap of your bag, and his expression softens like he’s just won something. “There it is,” he says, his tone low and almost reverent. “Knew you had a cute laugh.”

Your cheeks flush, and you look down, unable to meet his eyes. “Thanks,” you mumble, your voice so small it almost gets lost in the room.

For a moment, you don’t say anything, and neither does he. You expect the silence to feel awkward, but it doesn’t. When you finally glance back up, Chris is still looking at you, but not in a way that makes you nervous. It’s more like… wonder, like he’s mesmerised by you in a way you can’t quite understand.

“So,” he says suddenly, leaning forward just enough to close the distance between you a little. “Does he always drag you along for stuff like this?”

You shake your head, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Not really,” you say softly. “I guess he just didn’t want to come alone.”

Chris snorts, leaning back again. “Classic.” He watches you for another moment before his grin returns, playful and warm. “Well, for what it’s worth, I’m glad he did. You seem way cooler than him.”

You blink, startled by the compliment, and then let out a small laugh. “You don’t even know me.”

“True,” he says, his smile softening into something more genuine. “But I can already tell. You’re sitting here all polite and sweet, like you’re afraid you’re gonna break something just by being here.”

You laugh again, your nerves unravelling little by little, and it feels… nice. His words don’t feel rehearsed or calculated; they feel real, like he actually means them. And the way he’s looking at you now—like you’re something rare and special—makes your heart flutter in a way it hasn’t in a long time.

He starts talking, his voice light and easy, and before you know it, you’re laughing at everything he says. Real, full laughter that spills out of you before you can stop it. You feel yourself leaning forward slightly, your shoulders relaxing as the space between you feels smaller and smaller.

“You’re cute when you laugh,” Chris says at one point, his grin widening as you try (and fail) to fight the blush creeping up your neck.

“You’re just saying that,” you mumble, looking down.

“I’m really not,” he says, his tone low and sincere, and when you glance up, his eyes are locked on yours, impossibly soft.

By the time your boyfriend comes back, reeking of smoke and tossing out some half-hearted excuse for taking so long, the spell should break. But it doesn’t. You’re still caught in the warm haze of Chris’s voice, his jokes, the way he’s been looking at you like you’re the only thing in the room.

Your boyfriend slings an arm around your shoulder, but for the first time, it doesn’t feel reassuring. It feels heavy. And as you glance back at Chris—his grin easy, his eyes full of something you can’t quite name—you can’t help but wonder: how did you ever think your boyfriend was the interesting one?

[cognitiveoverload]

Suicide game (Hwang In-ho/Front Man x reader)

Summary: You get an idea during a game, a proposition for a new set of players. Since the Host isn’t present, you talk to the Front Man about it.

Tags: mention of suicidal thoughts

All the other VIPs are busy talking to each other, discussing how much they bet on certain players, how much they’ve lost or won so far. To you, it’s all background noise, you couldn’t care less about it. Your focus is narrowed to the man in gray and black, the Front Man as he was called, because there’s something you want to discuss with him, preferably without an audience.

So, you wait for the perfect moment, which arrives halfway through the ongoing game. After noting that everyone else is busy drinking or watching the players, you stand up and walk over to your target, leaning against the railing he’s standing next to. He doesn’t say anything, only watches you, waiting for whatever you want to say.

“If I remember correctly, these players are here because they need money due to their debts, right?” you wonder casually. There’s a beat of silence, and he doesn’t have to explain what it’s about. “The old man told me when he mentioned this game.”

He lets out a humming sound, tasting your words, trying to imagine his boss talking to someone about this so freely. But Il-nam has a soft spot for you, he knew your father, and when your parents died, he took you under his wings; he gave you really good advice on how to use your inheritance, and he generally helped you if you needed anything. Inviting you to be a VIP when he joined the game was a strange thing, but he survived, and for you, that was enough.

The Front Man looks out the window, watching the players argue about which glass sheet to pick, then turns back to you. “We’re giving them a chance to–”

You quickly raise a hand to dismiss the whole train of thought. “Yeah, yeah, I know, but hear me out. Wouldn’t it be fun to invite suicidal people to the games? Choosing a method isn’t always easy, and they might be debating whether or not to kill themselves, but this? They can die doing something… fun,” you suggest, aware of the fact your smile can be seen under the mask that doesn’t cover your mouth.

“And what makes you think they would be interested?” he asks, and you can hear it in his tone that he considers your idea.

With a shrug, you glance at the bridge and take a sip of your champagne as you watch a player fall to their death. “I sure would join if you made it happen.” You say this so casually that it takes him off guard, at least that’s what his silence is telling you. “Can you ask your boss if he would be interested? I have the money to fund part of it, and I’m sure I could help convince a few other people too. The winner could choose between a bullet to the head and the cash prize.”

For a few moments he’s watching you in silence, but then he takes a deep breath and turns to look at the other guests. “Which one would you choose?” he asks.

“Death.”

He turns to you, watching you in silence for a while. You hear the sound of breaking glass, followed by a high-pitched scream from the arena, but you don’t tear your gaze away from the man in front of you. It’s a staring match, one you’re determined to win. Right now, it feels like the two of you were in a bubble, safely locked away from the other people in the room.

Someone in a red suit and a mask with a square logo stops a few feet away, and the Front Man lets out a sigh before signaling him to wait. “I’ll talk to the Host after the game.”

Nodding, you flash a small smile at him. “Thank you. And tell him I have one condition. If it happens, I want to play the game,” you say, your voice determined and unwavering.

Your statement gets a reaction out of him. Although the color of his skin isn’t visible thanks to the leather gloves he’s wearing, you can see the way his grip on the railing tightens upon hearing your request. Maybe it’s not a usual request, VIPs don’t want to participate, but you feel like this could be the key to your happiness. You want to die, but you don’t like the uncertainty. What if the method you choose in the end isn’t fail-safe? But here you would definitely die, and at least you would experience that thrill.

In the end, he only nods then walks away to see what the staff member wants to tell him. He will get back to you with the answer, you’re sure of that. Especially since you can feel his eyes on you right until you leave the room after the game, like he doesn’t approve of your plan. But it doesn’t matter. It’s all up to the old man now.

[funnier-as-a-system]

hello there. i am going to remain off of anon for the sake of getting the notification that this was answered.

i am questioning whether or not i am a system. i don’t experience many of the things that my one plural friend(friends?) has asked me if i experience, but i’m not sure if that can actually help me since it’s just one system’s experiences.

i am asking for help in figuring this out. i don’t think i have DID, but i’ve heard that there are other kinds of systems. i have also heard that endogenic systems are harmful to the plural community…? i’m not 100% sure why that would be though.

some of my experiences include: scratches, cuts, bruises, etc that i cannot explain; feeling like i wasn’t at a place that i was supposedly at for a majority of the day (e.g school or work); feeling like i have no memories of my own life, so bad that i can’t remember basic things such as if i took my daily meds or not (even if it was only a few minutes ago); hearing random voices in my head that don’t sound like my own; and so much more that i won’t name here.

i feel like it’s not me being a system, but i honestly have no idea. if you could help me out, that’d be much appreciated. thanks for reading this, and i hope you have a wonderful day/night :)

I'll address your primary concern in a moment, but first I want to clear something up: endogenic systems are not harmful to the plural community. "Endogenic" just means that a system was not formed due to trauma, nothing more. Exclusionists claim that endogenic systems are "harmful", "fake", or "impossible", but there is nothing substantial behind these claims; not only do endogenic systems have a basis in many cultural, spiritual, and religious practices, but many scientists who study plurality, dissociation, and/or dissociative disorders affirm or are open to the existence of endogenic systems. The majority of endogenic systems are kind, well-meaning people like anyone else, and are not out to trick others or spread misinformation (which is another common accusation against endogenic systems). They're just systems whose plurality does not originate from trauma, living their lives and sharing their stories. You're right to be suspicious of that claim you heard, because it's just needless exclusionism that most often arises from hurt people lashing out at a perceived "enemy" to feel some semblance of control, power, or justice in their life. It's a shame, really. I've met so many kind and friendly endogenic systems here on Tumblr and other places, and the plural community has always been an inclusive community!

Onto the rest of your ask.

I'm not sure what questions your friend asked, but based on your experiences, DID doesn't sound too unlikely – especially with how you describe your memory issues. However, I may have to refer you to seeing a psychiatrist or other professional about this. Even if it's not DID, these things sound like they're causing you problems that would be best handled by a professional that knows you personally. DID can be difficult to identify from the individual's perspective, which may explain why you don't feel you have DID, but I am not able to diagnose you – it's just that the things you say remind me of what I and other people with DID experience. I'd recommend seeing someone who specializes in dissociative (and possibly psychotic) disorders to see what can be done to help with the everyday issues and memory problems you're experiencing, or to at least get some answers. Bring a list of these things with you and let them know you're here to get some answers; you can tell them, "Someone I talked to said this sounded like DID, but told me I should see someone to check." ("this" being the list of events/experiences you share with them). Professionals can be hit-or-miss when it comes to these things, but in this case I think that might be the best course of action.

In the meantime, there are plenty of different kinds of systems you can learn about by looking around the community, or specific subcommunities. There's created systems, adaptive systems, spontaneous systems; multiple systems, median systems; polyconscious systems, monoconscious systems; dæmonism or tulpamancy practitioners; there are lots of different terms that people have coined to make sense of their plurality and find people like them. There's essays, articles, blog posts, zines, books, visual artworks, videos, and more. There's forums, Discord servers, Tumblr communities, Reddit subreddits, YouTube channels, Twitch channels, and more. Really, if I went on listing examples, we'd be here forever! The variety of the plural community is one of the things I love about it. Look around for what you like or what interests you, don't feel pressured to relate to or perfectly understand everything, and feel free to lurk if you don't feel like putting yourself out there.

You're right, it can be difficult to figure things out based on one system's experiences. I, too, am just one system, so I encourage you to explore at your own pace and seek a professional opinion when you're ready (and if you think it's necessary). I hope you have a wonderful day/night, too!

[st4rsinthenight]

Hello, stranger on the internet

I really enjoyed reading the headcanons you wrote about the turtles finding a borrower and I was wondering if you could write one for Leo (/nf)

★gasps. erh. hypervanlites werh. fumking di. fucking supernovaes - supernovaes /pos !!

werhhh wha. what now- oh headcanon. g/t headcanon time, yippie★

— rise!leonardo hamato finding a borrower / tiny !!

!! — contents: giant/tiny, borrower/t!character, g!leonardo, non-con touching (brief, non-sexual), headcanons, repetitive words / phrases, occ stuff ( maybeee.. =\\ )

✧ — pre-meeting

★ — First off, this dude. this dude will suspense that something is going in the lair after noticing that his brothers stuff have been recently going missing and such. Maybe at first, he didn't think much of it. Maybe he just believed that his brothers are just misplacing their stuff and just teased them 'bout it for a while. This could lead to his brothers accusing the red eared slider for stealing their stuff as a way to fuck with them- in which Leonardo denies everything, being a bit dramatic about it as well..

★ — That is though, until his stuff- or parts of them at least, begun mysteriously disappearing and getting misplaced. Y'know, parts of his comics being ripped off- action figures being knocked over or a little shuffled to the side. Stuff like that.

★ — At first, he'll accuse his brothers of taking and damaging his items as a form of 'revenge', but just like him- they all may be very fumkin confused as to what he is talking about. While he is skeptical about idea of anyone else snatching his equipment, other than his brothers that is, he can't help but shimmer that 'oh, something is wrong'.

★ — And from there, he'll start getting more observant with his surroundings. Listening in for any odd sounds or looking around sharply to find out what or- in the worst case scenario- who is messing around in the lair. And during that period of time, he'll pick up on shuffling noises, notice odd messes and prints on counter tops- heck even see the running silhouette of a little.. something, from the corner of his eye.

★ — The logical part of him says that it's just a rat that found it self in the lair, but rats don't tear paper - or leave behind.. tiny- human like hand prints ?? Yea, that pretty much sums it up. Something is in the lair.

★— Also insert a scene where Leo shares his suspicions and conspiracies about something living with them in the lair with his fam, and they all think he's either lost it, messing with them, or that he is not getting enough sleep just to make the next part make sense or something somethin - explodes.

✧ — meeting

★ — Upon finding the borrower, erm. A mixed bag of emotions honestly. While he may triumph and feel all smug about being proven right about another presence being in the lair, he is also baffled about their existence. Like, a tiny human, yokai- whatever in the lair ?? wowza. That's erhh.. a bit weird to think about, yet also a little cool ?? Yet the, fact that this little creature has stolen from his family- from him, gets him to come off as a little petty towards the borrower.

★ — So yea, I'm stuck in between of whether Leo would be salty towards them, holding a grudge about them stealing. while being stealthy with his approach as to catch them off guard, or get all smug and be obnoxious about being on the right.

★ — I like to think that he would greet the borrower with a little remark, a teasing one as he looks down at them with a small, shit-eating grin. However, I don't doubt that he would be curious about them- and honestly a little impressed by them. They've been living in the lair with five ninja-mutants for- how long ?? And they just now got noticed ?? Respecttt.. kinda.

★ — Would definitely portal them right in front of him if they try to run away, not being very mindful to the borrower's rather vulnerable form. No, he'll just make a portal appear- let them fall through and watch as they plop back onto the counter top. He would also prop them up by their arm or something, and again, he may not be as gentle as he should with them, either because he doesn't realise it or because he just wants to mess with- or to just get back at them for stealing from him.

★ — That would also be followed by a small series of questions- like an interrogation, an almost condescending one at that. He would blame them for his fam's missing equivalent, and address the fact that due to their thieving antics, he was accused for theft by his own brothers !! Yea, he would be all dramatic and salty about it, which could either be comical, or intimidating to the little borrower.

★ — Though, in spite of his salty, almost obnoxious behaviour towards them- he would get a bit more curious about them after learning that them 'thieving', is actually the only way for them to survive.

★ — He may feel further impressed by their commitment and struggle they have to go through to get access to basic everyday material- even if it's limited. And while part of him just wants to present his victory in the whole 'someone-is-in-the-lair: dilemma, to rub it in his bros faces, the borrower's hushed and rather- afraid look on their face is convincing him otherwise. Plus, he would then have to live with the responsibility of potentially scarring this little guy sooo..

★ — Still, Leonardo isn't one to let go of grudges easily- and though the little thing has earned some of his respect (as well as amazement), he still takes the liberty to toy and mess with them- making up little nicknames for them such as 'little kleptomaniac', giving them little prods here and there, making a few height-difference puns when they are around. erh yea. stuff like that.

[katerinaaqu]

Hello! Been a frequenter on your page and I am I’m love with your work. I have a few questions, and I’m hoping you can re-wire the truth of Greek Mythology for me. (Cause some people…..you know) 1. Have Diomedes and Odysseus met before the Trojan War? If they didn’t, did they have general knowledge of the other at least? 2. I’ve heard that Odysseus wasn’t as physically intimidating as the others, (Agamemnon, Diomedes, etc) Is that true? Because sites and docs make Odysseus seem like he is a tiny, little man who likes to ONLY think in his tent and has everyone else do his heavylifting. Does he at least have some military experience? If you had to assign a body type for him, what actor, influencer, or singer would you say, “yeah that’s him.” 3. I know that Odysseus is, at least, in the morally gray side of the universe. Does he have his moments of “honor”, or certain people’s versions of “morally correct?” Does he have moments of selflessness, bravery, or integrity?

And some silly little questions. Since Odysseus is your favorite character, If he walked into a therapists office/physical examination/got analyzed by a classification system, when he walked out, what mental evaluation would have been made. Ex. PTSD, BPD, etc. (I searched on doctor google, and they said maybe he would be on the spectrum of ASPD.) If Odysseus was alive today, would he still be a schemer, liar, etc. Would it be tamed down? Not looking for the mental gymnastics as much?

I adore your stuff, keep on doing you. I hope to see more.

You are a frequenter to my page and you are asking me on how I feel on people drawing Odysseus as a tiny figure or whether I believe Odysseus is brave?! THE HORROR! Just kidding I am a yapper and I love analyzing that! So here we go every point at the time.

As always viewer's discretion is advised because my yapping will be non-stop!!!! XD

I remember answering that question in the past to someone else who was wondering of it. If we follow sources like Apollodorous for example, Diomedes was one of the suitors of Helen's and he was also bound under the Oath of Tyndareus. I suspect that was why Apollodorous wanted to explain as to why Diomedes was in the war to begin with. So under this version, Odysseus and Diomedes met for the first time in Sparta while both courted Helen. However I do side up more with other sources that do not include him because arguably Diomedes is the youngest or one of the youngest kings around and he would be very young to be courting Helen at that time (Even archaic paintings more often whatnot have him beard-less so that means he was in his 20s, maximum early 30s in the war when Iliad takes place, aka the final years so that means he joined when he was somewhere between 18-20 years of age). That also fits since some readings of the War of the Epigonoi in which Diomedes took part in, happened around 5 years before Troy when Diomedes was 14). As per readings Helen's courting happened 10 to 20 (as per Apollodorous extended narrative which again do not find me agreeable for! Hehe) years before Troy. Diomedes would literally be a child at that time. So I think it is more logical assumption to believe they met for the first time in Aulis at the gathering of the fleet. As for whether they knew each other by narrations, possibly. Judging on how the kings spoke to Diomedes about his father Tydeus, means that they had knowledge of him and his war with the other Seven against Thebes so yes I believe they have heard of each other but I do not think they actually met before Aulis. They are a generation apart after all!

Gosh...yeah I see it all the time and honestly I am soooo tired of it (I mean sure art is art and everyone is free to draw what they want but honestly I don't think I have ever seen something more inaccurate than people draw Odysseus like a tiny skinny guy and man ONLY STAYS IN HIS TENT?! Lol the dude was lifting the entire Trojan War if not the Epic Cycle on his back! XD I even made this post a while back:

Odysseus? Really? The guy that stood his ground against behemoth Ajax in their wrestling in the funeral games of Patroclus? (Sure when Ajax managed to take the upper hand for one second, Odysseus cheated and kicked him behind the knee but then they were wrestling again and literally neither of the two could come on top). Or Odysseus that basically made Irus, the beggar and all the suitors back off in wonder when he showed his body during his match against Irus (of whose jaw he broke with just ONE punch)? The guy whose back and thighs were so thoroughly described in the Odyssey that it became ridiculous!? Hahaha right!

Arguably his first description happens in the Iliad, which I am citing in this analysis of mine in the past:

Odysseus is described usually short or average to short of structure and then Homer proceeds to explain to us how he is wider in the shoulder and the chest than Agamemnon who was a head taller than him. He is described that he looks like a ram, as I mentioned to my analysis; an animal sturdy, proud and strong. Odysseus has arguably one of the best physiques out heroes despite his age (which makes one wonder how he was in his peak at the age of 30 or something)

As for whether he sat in his tent all day I think that if there is even one person who said that he hasn't read a single thing on Homer. Odysseus was always in the center of all action of the war. Yes, he does refrain from rushing in battle (In the Iliad for example he kept his troops away from action till it was their right moment to arrive or that he placed himself as almost for last to fight with Hector because yeah he wasn't in the mood on dying that day!) but he was always fighting to the front lines, he was always inserting himself in the events that were happening. He was taking part in secret missions such as the one we see in the Iliad (Diomedes and himself going to counter-spy the enemy field or in the Odyssey how he literally sneaks in Troy, which is linked to the Palladium of Athena heist story).

As I mention to that humorous post of mine; Odysseus literally does almost everything in the war; he was ambassador, he was settling things between kings when they had conflicts, he was fighting first line when he had to (but knew when to refrain from it to assure his safety and the safety of his men, thus suffering the bare minimum losses at war), he kept everyone together when he had to, he captured Helenus and extracted the prophecy from him, he went to get the Palladium himself, he came up with the Horse idea and he was one of the first inside the horse etc. Even in the Odyssey; he conquered Ismarus, he killed the suitors himself, he was ready to fight gods and monsters for his men etc. I think the sources speak on themselves.

Yes he does have military experience. For starters the slaves in his palace are called δμωαί which means "slave acquired at war" so most likely he did some of it himself. Two he has the bow that was given to him as a gift for offering assistance to Messina (although the exact length or nature of it is not mentioned in the Odyssey) and Penelope informs us that Odysseus faced the Taphian pirates before (when she mentions the incident of Antinous's father arriving to the palace chased after and begged Odysseus to save his life). Odysseus definitely has military experience (possibly his military successes made him also king while his father was alive, potentially Laertes recognized his son's talent and retired) but it seems that his military experience was not of a large or extended scale (for example like Diomedes) or of conquering nature (like Agamemnon or Diomedes, the first expanded the influence of his kingdom and the latter conquered Thebes, took control of Argos and regained control of his grandfather's lands for him) but they seem rather of domestic nature, such as the mutiny of the Taphians, an area close to his kingdom or offering assistance to a fellow king without getting too much into detail.

Hmm hard to say that I can find some straight out similarity to Odysseus that is a very good question.

I think though so far the greatest resemblance I could find was Christos Tsagas who played Odysseus in Iphigenia movie in 1977 whom I am mentioning here:

And here:

That was literally my moment of

3. Actually I have referred to the matter in another answer of mine:

As I mentioned to that ask of mine, I think the characterization of "morally gray" for Odysseus at least as far as Homer is concerned is not doing him full justice. Odysseus has no problem recognize right from wrong nor does he make bad decisions without thinking even if he knows is not morally correct. Yes, he oftentimes is ready to cheat (see for example the match of Ajax) and he is capable of twisting his words on certain things but he doesn't seem to be the type of person that consistently breaks the law for the loves of it (now his version on certain post-homeric sources such as the plays of Euripides who was consistently writing Odysseus negatively, or Conon, who is the oldest known version to my knowledge of the story in which he tries to backstab Diomedes) I do not see much to characterize him as such. Perhaps the alleged murder of Palamedes would be one (even if we do not know what the contribution of Odysseus was in the Epic Cycle for sure given how we only know Epic Cyle moments from scholiasts and later sources, but as I said I find it way too complicated matter to characterize him straight out as "morally gray" in general much less for Homer

However I absolutely understand what you mean.

Once again I get disappointed when people always assume that Odysseus is like the dude that would step on you to save his ass and laugh in the night about it when we have literally the lengths to which he went in the ENTIRE Odyssey which I analyze here:

Or how he went to save Diomedes in Rhapsody 11 in Iliad! He literally rushed to his assistance and gave him his chariot and stayed behind to cover his retreat. Odysseus also is named the most pious to the gods and the best when it comes to sacrifices by Zeus himself. He protects his men by literally sacrificing his own body when he was forced to accept Circe's bed and mind you he was ready to face her WITHOUT knowing how to beat her spell. Hermes just happened to be on his way. Odysseus didn't know that he would have help. He literally went towards the unknown, with just his sword at hand, to face an immortal witch without knowing what to do because he cared for his men and he was planning his way through. He was ready to fight Skylla. He also tried to test the suitors so all of them wouldn't need to die. He also scolds his wetnurse for wishing to cry out of joy upon seeing the results of the slaughter.

Even in post-homeric sources we know from Pausanias that Odysseus gave Penelope a choice whether she wanted to marry him or return to her father. So he respected her decision. In Sophocles's "Ajax" he feels sympathy for Ajax's condition and he insists upon giving him a proper burial when all other kings turned their backs on him. He also protects the body of Achilles alongside Ajax before that etc.

I think people saying Odysseus has no honor or integrity or that he is totally immoral or that he is not brave or has no selflessness simply haven't read enough of Odysseus. The entirety of the Odyssey was him trying to save what he can from his crew and placing himself in harm's way for them and protecting them with all he had.

~~~~~~~~

Hmm that is an interesting question. Quite frankly I do not think it is fair to always find disorders or syndromes to the Greek heroes and such because just because someone has certain behavioral patterns doesn't necessarily mean they need to be diagnosed just like with everyday people after all. What is more certain behavioral patterns in Greek mythology can be partially "ignored" in one way given how the ancient Greek sources also speak of pre-determined events and such so the agency of the heroes is rather blurry subject but that being said here we go.

I absolutely wouldn't say that Odysseus belongs to the Antisocial Personality Disorder spectrum. Especially when Homer is concerned. I mean as per DSM-5 ASPD in order to be diagnosed we have:

A pervasive pattern of disregard for and violation of the rights of others, occurring since age 15 years, as indicated by three (or more) of the following:

Failure to conform to social norms with respect to lawful behaviors, as indicated by repeatedly performing acts that are grounds for arrest. (Odysseus doesn't conform to social norms? Who is the one in charge for sacrifices? Who respects the gods to the level of not wishing to offer assistance to people at war because they break the rules Odysseus who desires to honor the customs of Xenia to the extreme? The only "social norm" he doesn't seem to be dealing with is the direct "heroic" battle and he prefers to use wits to do his bidding. Is that outside the ideal social role? Yes. Was he though encouraged or helped by Athena? The goddess that literally dictates some basic social norms? Also yes. Him not being conformed in one specific pattern is not necessarily sign of disorder otherwise everyone's uniqueness is considered a symptom XD As for the things he steals or takes I remind you the actions were encouraged by Athena or placed up by the circumstances or dictated by prophecies and ironically most of the actions happen in harsh warfare. I doubt anyone would be judged if they stole information from an enemy base to help your side. In fact Odysseus resents the idea of stealing from the cave of Polyphemus and run even if his men want to)

Deceitfulness, as indicated by repeated lying, use of aliases, or conning others for personal profit or pleasure. ("for personal profit or pleasure" is the key here. When does Odysseus lie and use aliases? When he needs to protect himself or when he needs to protect others for example with the suitors or Polyphemus. I mean who would go in a room full of men who wanna murder you, over 100 of them, and you would say "hey what's up! It is I!" or in Polyphemus? Who wouldn't lie or hide? In other cases when Odysseus hides his identity or lies about it is when he is not certain he is safe. He doesn't lie just to deceive others and get himself gain something that belongs to others -unless we count some versions created in future sources-. His aliases are usually created for some reason and let's be honest in the situations he was in, most of us would have done the same. Even in Philoctetes where he basically says that he would be a chameleon and slither himself in every situation when the situation calls for it, is also an interesting thing to imagine that we often do so as well don't we? We try to form ourselves up to a situation if we need to.)

Impulsivity or failure to plan ahead. (Impulsivity in certain cases is done by everyone. You do take impulsive decisions or do something out of impulse. In order for this to be pathologic one needs to be doing it consistently. Odysseus arguably always plans ahead. He literally planned the whole "I am nobody" trick so that just in case Polyphemus had allies with him the fake name would confuse them, which actually happpened. He also arguably created allies to both Tyndareus and himself with the Oath of Tyndareus. The fact that he didn't calculate Menelaus would use the oath to get Helen back 10 years later I am not sure if it actually counts as "inability to plan ahead". Also miscalculations to a plan can still happen for example not calculate the true magnitude of of the taking of Troy but again I doubt if that counts again as "failiure to plan ahead". Quite frankly his scheme to take Troy was a perfect success. The fact that several of his schemes turn boomerang against him might as well be seen through the spectrum of fate as well. As for certain impulsive things that he does aka reveling his name to Polyphemus one can say who wouldn't have done so if you think the extreme anxious situation that he was under; days and days of psychological torment and extreme anxiety with barely any sleep or proper food and such? Who wouldn't lose control?)

Irritability and aggressiveness, as indicated by repeated physical fights or assaults. (Aggressiveness is definitely part of his persona in more ways than one. But of course that is part of multiple psychological conditions including Anxiety and Depression and of course Odysseus even in Iliad was already a 10 year war veteran which again is behavior often seen in those who have been through warfare)

Reckless disregard for safety of self or others. (Regardless of safety? Odysseus? Who is always keeping his men out of harm's way or advises them to do so? At war he gets in battle when it is the best moment for him and his men, in the Odyssey he repeatedly warns them against certain decisions etc. The fact that more often whatnot Odysseus thinks of death or has some reckless or impulsive decision is again not done consistently and we see that we have moments like that in our everyday life as well)

Consistent irresponsibility, as indicated by repeated failure to sustain consistent work behavior or honor financial obligations. (Consistent irresponsibility for the man that was basically looked upon every time something bad happened to fix it? The man that always advised others to make good decisions? The man that seems the very definition of "one pays his depts" guy? I would say not. He often speaks on his emotions and mind you the fact that he managed to sustain provisions on Helios's islands and feed 40 men for an elongated amount of time while famish lasted I would say he knows how to manage his economics and such! Hahaha!)

Lack of remorse, as indicated by being indifferent to or rationalizing having hurt, mistreated, or stolen from another (He bawls his eyes out of remorse in the island of Phaeakes not once but TWICE when he hears a man singing about Troy. Odysseus is not void of emotion or of the essence of right or wrong and he definitely shows remorse for his actions or he knows when he has to admit it for example he knows the act of murder of the suitors was arguably wrong and yet necessary as per Athena's advise as well but again as far as Homer is concerned)

Of course bear in mind that I am no psychologist or psychiatrist so these are my interpretation as someone who is enthusiastic on psychology.

As I said above I think people making Odysseus's lies as something that consists his whole persona as if he has nothing else to offer is wrong in the first place because if one thinks the conditions he lived in he was always on his guard and worried. So even if one speaks on the lies being too many, they are not necessarily a product of ASPD. Lying is also part of others like PTSD or Depression given how many people lie out of fear or worry over something.

That being said if in modern age Odysseus was a survivor of a terrible tragedy and a war veteran on top of that then absolutely he would act on a similar basis as well as others

So instead of that I think one thing I would "diagnose" Odysseus with, again based on the homeric poems mainly would be

PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder)

For PTSD as per DSM-5:

A. Exposure to actual or threatened death, serious injury, or sexual violence in one (or more) of the following ways:

Directly experiencing the traumatic event(s). (Ι mean...no need to elaborate here now do we?)

Witnessing, in person, the event(s) as it occurred to others. (This speaks on its own. He has experienced both trauma at war by being hurt or chased after or under stress or he was raped and used lost and almost died multiple times or witnessed people die around him such as his fellow kings -Ajax- or his comrades)

Learning that the traumatic event(s) occurred to a close family member or close friend. In cases of actual or threatened death of a family member or friend, the event(s) must have been violent or accidental. (He literally met his mother in the underworld who told him she died of sorrow while waiting of him, he saw his comrade Elpenor and he found out he died, he heard that his wife was struggling and that his father lost his mind among others)

Experiencing repeated or extreme exposure to aversive details of the traumatic event(s) (e.g., first responders collecting human remains: police officers repeatedly exposed to details of child abuse). (This part is tricky because as far as the Odyssey is concerned we do not know how often Odysseus was experiencing dreams or flashbacks of what happened although arguably he was always remembering it, for example when he was mistreated by the suitors he was reminding himself to endure because he had endured worse before and he remembers Polyphemus so we can assume he definitely had some close calls with his past and dreams before or at least that he constantly thinks of them)

So as per the B section of DSM we do have the factor of reoccurring memories or dreams. As I said as far as Odyssey is concerned we do not have much on the stimuli through dreams however if I may draw the attention to one of the factors:

Recurrent Involuntary and intrusive distressing memories of the traumatic event(s) (Odysseus cries his eyes out once a heroic song about Troy begins to play. His memory of the war sneaks in to the point that he blows his anonymity and not only that his memory is stimulated enough to say his story and explain himself to the presented members)

As per the C part of it:

C. Persistent avoidance of stimuli associated with the traumatic event(s), beginning after the traumatic event(s) occurred, as evidenced by one or both of the following:

Avoidance of or efforts to avoid distressing memories, thoughts, or feelings about or closely associated with the traumatic event(s). (Odysseus doesn't want to reveal his identity again. When he is taken in by Nausicaa he hides who he is. He doesn't speak on himself. He avoids the subject altogether. He knows he has little to no possibility to get the help he needs without honoring the part of Xenia law that involves himself to reveal who he is and yet he is not ready to speak up)

Avoidance of or efforts to avoid external reminders (people, places, conversations, activities, objects, situations) that arouse distressing memories, thoughts, or feelings about or closely associated with the traumatic event(s). (Odysseus refuses to take part to athletic activities in Scheria. He doesn't want to blow his cover but also potentially he knows that this brings him memories from the funerary games of the army. He also knows he will always go in full force at what he does so participating would blow his cover and potentially make him reveal who he is, something he avoids)

D. Negative alterations in cognitions and mood associated with the traumatic event(s), beginning or worsening after the traumatic event(s) occurred, as evidenced by two (or more) of the following:

Inability to remember an important aspect of the traumatic event(s) (typically due to dissociative amnesia and not to other factors such as head injury, alcohol, or drugs). (This one doesn't apply here because Odysseus has a very sharp memory. He explains everything in detail. We also do not see him in Homer abusing alcohol or anything else -and I mean it IS an ancient text after all Homer was no psychologist)

Persistent and exaggerated negative beliefs or expectations about oneself, others, or the world (e.g., “I am bad,” “No one can be trusted,” ‘The world is completely dangerous,” “My whole nervous system is permanently ruined”). (Odysseus often talks with regret about his decisions during his narration but he also expresses rage many times over on the events that took place. He also calls his comrades "mindless" many times over especially on events that marked his trip's outcome such as the sack of Aeolus or the cows of Helios. Of course that is only natural in one essence so it doesn't necessarily need to be a symptom but I am throwing that to the table)

Persistent, distorted cognitions about the cause or consequences of the traumatic event(s) that lead the individual to blame himself/herself or others. (Once more even though Odysseus doesn't specifically speak on cause and effect apart from the mentions we get in the Odyssey but he does seem to try and figure the root of the problem. He is also speaking negatively on himself or speaking on shameful moments of his trip also certain things like Imsarus he just mentions them. He doesn't even get to elaborate those but moments such as Charybdis or Skylla etc were thoroughly described! Or the shipwreck)

Persistent negative emotional state (e.g., fear, horror, anger, guilt, or shame). (Once again explanation not needed; ashamed to be washed by maidens, fear that he might be trapped again, angry and irritated, feeling guilt. All the emotions in the Odyssey are here)

Markedly diminished interest or participation in significant activities. (He is not interested in showing his potential to the Phaeakes or speak of his name or heritage even when he heard the song for the first time so he might have clues that they are positively thinking towards him)

Feelings of detachment or estrangement from others. (He is a stranger, a beggar. He sits in the corner. Most of the time he is silent. He is the oddity in the room. He doesn't become the center of attention till his emotions betray him and he has to speak to the Phaeakes on who he is)

Persistent inability to experience positive emotions (e.g., inability to experience happiness, satisfaction, or loving feelings). (He is crying for seven years at the beach longing for his home. He is rarely ever pictured laughing. His feelings of distrust and anger continue and expand even to his wetnurse whom he feels he has to threaten in order to be on the safe side. He feels betrayed by the gods even as he calls out to Athena and reminds her that she didn't help him when he needed her the most)

E. Marked alterations in arousal and reactivity associated with the traumatic event(s), be ginning or worsening after the traumatic event(s) occurred, as evidenced by two (or more) of the following:

Irritable behavior and angry outbursts (with little or no provocation) typically expressed as verbal or physical aggression toward people or objects. (Odysseus definitely shows irritable behavior through and through to the Iliad when he beats up Thersites to make an example out of him or when he loses control when Eurylochus hurts his ego by calling out to him for being enchanted by Circe and he basically brings up a painful memory; the Cyclops incident. Odysseus cannot take this and he is ready to literally slay his brother-in-law on the spot and he is stopped by the others)

Reckless or self-destructive behavior. (HERE is where I would put some of that recklessness we see in the Odyssey; Odysseus wishing to rescue his men no matter what; he is ready to fight a goddess with little to no plan to save the little he has left of men after his loss by the Laestrigonians, he is ready to fight Skylla for them, he provokes the suitors to see who is rotten and who is not.)

Hypervigilance. (No explanation needed here! Odysseus constantly sees enemies and reasons to distrust people. He doesn't allow his men near the sack of winds, he remains awake even to do it all by himself. He saw danger to the bay of Laestrygonians and tied his ship outside the bay -and he was proven right-, despite the fact he was in friendly company, he hides himself from the Phaeakes and he constantly tests or measures people, even his wetnurse needs to be threatened in his mind, even the loyal slave Eumeus needs to wait a bit before fully trusted to be placed within the scheme he was planning. Even when the Phaeakes were proven true to him and brought him home, when he woke up and he didn't recognize his own country, his first thought was that the Phaeakes tricked him.)

Exaggerated startle response. (He literally grabs his wetnurse by the throat when she is ready to shout. He is even threatening on top of that to make sure that she will not speak up despite his orders)

Problems with concentration. (This doesn't seem to apply here since Odysseus is hyper focused most of the time either when he tells his story or when he is planning the murder of the suitors)

Sleep disturbance (e.g., difficulty falling or staying asleep or restless sleep). (This one again is tricky since we have no clue but at the moments we see Odysseus sleeping for example during his return, we see him sleep peacefully. We do not see much on nightmares he might or might not have. Perhaps he has some but the thought of his homeland puts him at peace)

Suicidal thoughts are also common and Odysseus thought about ending his own life many times over in the Odyssey; from the moment the sack of winds was opened and he saw his home away once more till the moment he was at Calypso's isle and he was thinking of death daily.

The dude even had a syndrome named after him known as "Ulysses Syndrome" or migrant syndrome of chronic and multiple stress Basically it involves chronic stress especially for people who spent years in anxiety while moving from one place to another (to put it very roughly)

Okay please psychologists and psychiatrists do not come and have my head for this I am only doing this for fictional characters and not for real people, I am just enthusiast of psychology and not an actual psychologist so yeah...guys be gentle with me! XD

But yeah I think this whole thing on "Odysseus is a liar" as if that is his reason of existence or that he is like a pathological liar or that he doesn't have any sort of moral code I feel like it misses the whole point of the homeric hero (although some examples of post-homeric and roman sources might fit that better)

Hope this answers some of your questions dear Anon and sorry this was sooooooo long! Yeah I am normal about that guy! XD