#so then i turned to the tried and trusted method of turning everything off and on again

[endereies]

One More Day - Matt Sturniolo

contains: Mentions of self-harm, mentions of suicide, mentions of depression and anxiety, happy ending, heavy angst - sorry not sorry

author's notes: i really enjoyed writing this, especially with sad music like take care or duster playing. that shit hits.

word count: 3954

Dealing with mental health wasn’t a new situation in your relationship with Matt. He has had anxiety problems since he was 11 and has always been open about it, whether that was to his family or to his fans. However, that was a skill that you lacked.

Matt was always talking to you whenever he felt anxious in a situation, finding that his concerns seemed to lessen when he was around you. He had often silently latched on to your hand in a public environment as he focused on the warmth between your palms.

He confided in you after a stressful day of filming and taking pictures addressing how he particularly felt in each moment.

And you would always accept these small rants of anxious build up because you didn’t want him to feel the same way that you did.

You had internally struggled with your own anxiety for a few years, more recently symptoms of depression.

You never told Matt about any of this, not that you didn’t trust him with the information, you just didn’t want to overbear him when he had his own anxiety to manage.

You blamed yourself for selfish thoughts whenever he felt anxious at the same times as you, often relying on the same hand holding that he did to simultaneously calm you both down.

Over these years of having anxiety, you learnt what your tells were when feeling anxiety build up inside and tried to hide them whenever you could. And when you couldn’t? You’d hide in your room and cancel plans until that overbearing feeling went away.

-

This type of day had grown to be typical for you, one that consisted of a growing pit in your stomach caused by emotions you no longer felt in control of. You were left in your bed scratching at your wrists, the actions only growing harder the more you couldn’t satisfy the ‘itch’ that tore through under your skin. One left behind from previous nights.

As much as anxiety wasn’t a new feeling to you, your self-harm methods were. Of course, you had known about it, and how bad it was to deal with. The addiction of the lines that changed colour the more the razor dug into the flesh, or the harshness of reality that stepped in and out of your mind. It wasn’t enough to deter you and last night you gave in once more. Wanting to feel something else consistently other than that pit that sunk more every day.

The feeling was addictive, but it grew harder to hide from people, especially Matt. The constant handholding or affection made you paranoid and so you pulled back from him. You didn’t want him to find out.

The more you pulled back, however, the more that Matt grew concerned.

You had overheard him talking to Chris and Nick about how he thought you were starting to fall out of love with him, but to you those accusations couldn’t be further from the truth. To you Matt was a break from that feeling, making you smile subconsciously on days when all you wanted to do was turn off from everything. It was selfish the amount of time you craved with him, selfish the amount of things you wouldn’t tell him, selfish the number of times you cancelled plans made in advance over something you desperately needed to control.

But as much as you loved him, and had tried to privately talk to professionals, this feeling grew way more than you had ever wanted, and it had begun to wear you and others down.

-

“Are you cancelling again, y/n? We’ve had this day planned for a week now.” Matt voice was tainted with disappointment, and it took me a while before I got the courage to respond to him.

“I’m sorry Matt, something just came up and it’s urgent.” My breathe shook after I had finished, hating the more lies I had created the last month.

“Can I at least come over tomorrow..?” As much as I didn’t want to, I felt like I needed to see him, in a hope that I would feel somewhat better.

“Yeah, course..” And with that I hung up the phone, before either of us got another chance to speak.

That night I got to writing, the mood from earlier spilling over my brain and into my tears that were evident on the paper. The words were messy but said all I needed them to. I just hoped that whoever read it, understood all I was ever silently saying to them. It wasn’t a lot, but it was enough.

-

After a rough night’s sleep and a few hours in bed I dragged myself out of it and towards the shower. I sighed once my skin made contact with the water trying to relax my arm under the sting of the water pressure.

 I made sure not to spend more time than I had to in the shower, needing enough time to get dressed and get something to eat before Matt arrived.

The outfit didn’t seem like much, but it did hide a lot more. I grabbed an old hoodie and tossed it over a plain black t-shirt. The sweatpants I threw on matched my shirt and hung loosely on my hips.

Dishes has started to stack up in my sink, but I wasn’t prepared to wash them all and I was thankful that Matt never minded, as long as we were able to talk with one another. The food I picked out was just a small bowl of cereal that I have had for several days now but it was one of the only foods I was okay with eating. I felt too tired to finish the bowl and simply abandoned it next to the identical unfinished bowl over by the sink.

It wasn’t long before I heard a knock at my front door, and I instantly knew it was Matt. I gathered my mind and opened the door for him with a smile on my face.

“Hey baby, how was the ride over?” I shut the door behind him after he enters to lean on the door to take off his shoes.

“Traffic was okay, I’m just glad I get to see you again” As much as I know he meant well, his words stung a bit and made my heart drop slightly. Luckily, his back was still facing me, and he couldn’t see it happen.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be with you yesterday” Matt’s body faces mine once he pushes his shoes to the side and walks towards me with a meek smile displayed on his face.

“y/n, it’s okay, things come up. I get it.” He put his arm around my waist and rubs my waist lightly, just caressing the skin underneath, I pull away as quick as the touch begin and I feel his touch linger onto my skin, making my guilt apparent.

I wander around the kitchen for a moment, thinking of an excuse for leaving Matt until my eyes fall onto a selection of sodas and drinks.

“Want anything to eat or drink at all..?” my fingers trace the glass bottles slowly before landing onto the cans and picking a Pepsi.

“I’ll have a Pepsi with you, baby.” I smile as I hand him a Pepsi with my free arm and taking it back once I realise, I wasn’t watching how far my sleeve went up. I was grateful that he wasn’t paying any attention.

-

It had been an hour since Matt arrived and we had settled on watching a film, one that Matt had picked out several times before, but we never got bored of it. My duvet covers were shifted around to place both Matt and I underneath for comfort, but I took it as an opportunity for Matt to get close to me without being consumed with paranoia.

His fingers tangled in my hair and gently rubbing my scalp nearly nulled me to sleep. I felt safe enough to relax my body for the first time in over a week and my body ached after being tense for so long.

The feeling of his fingers stroking my hair brought me back to my childhood, one where I felt safely vulnerable in front of my mother who allowed me to watch cartoons while she braided my hair. Moments like these took away from the stress of those previous weeks.

“Do you want me to brush your hair, pretty girl?” I look up at him and weakly nod, feeling a little tired from him stroking my hair.

I have always loved when he plays with my hair and it became a token of affection after long days, and often I would return the favour whenever he asked.

He nods at me with a slight hum for a response before his body shifts under the covers. I sit up and lean off of his chest so that he can leave the bed. I take his place in the bed soon after just so that I can retain the warmth he left behind.

I notice him walking over to my desk and resting his wrists against the top of my chair as support while he scans it for my brush. I don’t pay any attention to it until he moves a drawer, not being able to locate it.

“Baby? It might be in the spare room; I was tidying there in there a while ago.” I try not to mumble within the tiredness I felt and offer him a small smile which he reciprocates.

“Okay, I’ll be back in a second then, want to pause the film?” I only nod in response, looking on the pillows for the remote to pause the show and once it does, Matt disappears to the hallway.

Matt’s Pov:

The spare room door was already open, and I simply pushed it open to glance into the room, the door was immediately put to a halt when it hit a box behind it. Luckily, I had enough of a gap to go through but I was met with more boxes and random items everywhere. This was so unusual for me to see in y/n’s house; she was persistent over how the house had looked and presented itself.

I stand among the clutter before focusing on what I entered the room for, yet once again it wasn’t obvious to me.

The boxes seemed to be filled with clothes and the items were old art projects I had seen her buy for fun, so I crossed those areas off as places to look.

I had been in this room before, yet it seemed so unrecognisable from the other places in the house I had been so used to over the years of knowing y/n. But the large white bookcase was still a standout against the dark blue walls. They didn’t seem as scattered as the rest of the room and so finding the brush became an easier task. Bright blue stood out against the white and I walked towards it to grab it, but I noticed a small stack of papers laid next to it. All folded sporadically with names scribbled all over them. It shouldn’t have peaked my interest but I had never known y/n to journal or write to people, so curiosity got the better of me. The top where names of family members, ones that even I knew well, but once I got through family members, I saw my name in a section next to Nick’s and Chris’s.

It stayed shut in my hand for me moment, my eyes not even deterring to place the pile back onto the shelf. The handwriting seemed rushed and scribbled and it only made me question these actions more. I shouldn’t have looked at the paper and I had already felt guilty for it, before it even happened.

I shouldn’t have opened it.

I started to read the letter to myself, and I sat on the spare bed on the small section that wasn’t already covered with the boxes and my heart sank.

Matt, I am so sorry for doing this, to you or anyone else. I’m still not sure about what I might do but I know that you’d want closure if I did. It’ll make itself clear. And I hope the main point you get from this is that this was never your fault.

I’ve just been feeling so shitty for weeks, maybe months at this point and honestly? I don’t see myself getting any fucking better.

Everything is stressing me out every day and it’s limiting everything I do, I can’t go outside often without someone there to ease my anxiety, nor can I even walk freely in my own home without any fear of being watched by people, and I’m rotting.

You were actually the only help I really had, not that you ever knew it.

I wanted us to last a bit longer than this, our three-year anniversary is in a few months but I’ll be lucky to not do this all by September.

I’ve planned a few things for you, love. I’ve saved all my money aside and sold things you would have trouble doing yourself. I didn’t want that burden on you. I wore several hoodies for you to have and slowly given things to you that I know you adore. That necklace you got me a year ago? The one of the gold star with the thin chain? I saved it for you, you were the wish I got from the stars I lay under in my childhood and I never want you to forget that.

I know this is selfish and I’ve done every way to rid of this feeling, good and bad. I’ve talked to people, talked to people who have gone through similar things and even talked to you about what helps you. I even started to harm myself. ‘Stupid’, I know. It only made me hide from you. Everything, from you.

My love, I’m sorry for this last burden on you, but after today you can rest happily without the castaway feeling I’ve shone on you the past few months.

I love you forever, y/n.

Y/n’ Pov:

“Shit, shit, shit” the words come out stuttered and repeat as I fling the covers from over my waist, realizing my errors.

Matt was taking a longer time than usual and when I looked at my phone, I realised it had nearly been ten minutes. I started to be confused and wondered what could’ve delayed him for so long. I mentally scan the spare room while I shift so that I can sit on the edge of the bed. I remember the boxes that were scattered and the things that were a mess compared to the other sections of my house. Was that a call for his curiosity? That’s when it hit me. The notes that I had left on the bookshelf was obvious and open for anyone to see. I started to panic.

I instantly flung the rest of the duvet off of me and slide off the mattress, muttering cuss words under my breath. I approached the spare room with a heavy chest and opened the door to meet Matt who was sat down on the bed with one hand holding his hair and the other gripping onto a slip of paper that I immediately recognised. His tears had dampened the paper similar to how mine did whilst writing, filled with heartbreak and torment.

It takes him a second to calm down enough and acknowledge that I had ran into the room, both of us with lingering heavy chests.

“Wha-” His voice escaped his lips in a raspy stutter.

“What the fuck is this?” He asked more firmly, some sort of emotion, thick in his voice. Though I couldn’t pull apart whether it was anger or betrayal, could’ve been both.

I tried to response but all that I was able to communicate were small stutters. My palms became sweaty, and the anxious feeling grew in my stomach on the brink of physical pain.

“y/n, tell me this isn’t what I fucking think it is.” His tone remained harsh and cold, but his tears made it sound brittle.

I didn’t want to say anything in fear of how Matt would react, but my silence answered his question for him.

“You have this all planned, don’t you?” His voice was unwavering making me shrink back into the corner by the door I entered prior.

“Don’t you.” I jolt when his voice becomes flat, making the only distinguishable teller of his emotions the tears that continued to fall past his cheeks.

My head nods in response, the small action making Matt take another shaky breath and face me dead on. He sucks in a harsh breath before facing me and speaking again.

“What’s going on.. wha- wh-..” His voice trails off with a break in his voice, making me internally wince.

“It’s nothing I just..needed an expel of stress..” My voice is monotonous but its shaking through the lies that we both know aren’t true. I just needed time to gather what I wanted to say to him.

“This is more than nothing, talk to me y/n.” When he stands up, I suddenly feel like a rabbit under a predatory stare and with my back against the wall, I couldn’t leave even if I wanted to. He notices a fearful expression in my eyes and creates distance between us, giving me a chance to step forward which I reluctantly took.

I was conflicted between the fear of how he felt towards me and the comfort I found in him, it was tearing me up inside and he could tell my thoughts were scattered. His own thoughts followed.

“Why didn’t you tell me a- any of this.” His words were swallowed harshly, and more tears threatened to spill over and I felt so guilty.

“You have your own shit to deal with. I couldn’t bore you with mine.” I look off to the side with a flat expression overtaken with so many emotions that I had started to shut down.

“Bore me? Baby this is your wellbeing we are talking about. Y-“ He takes a moment to regain his composure again “You could never bore me, especially with something as serious as this” He looks down at the paper, now slightly crumbled from the tight grip Matt had and the tears that fell.

“Is all of this true y/n, I mean the..self-harm”

I take a deep breath and exhale quickly when I nod my head and say yes with a whimper. My palm subconsciously rubs the fabric over my wrist, and I start to shake my hands with the raw shame of what I had done.

“I need you to know something, okay?” I meet his gaze which was full of compassion and for the first time in this conversation, I felt a little safer.

“I’m not mad at you”.

And with that my body practically collapses onto his and I hold his body tight. My arms wrapped around his waist and gripped the fabric while I choked out sobs into his chest. His own hands lay on my back, one holding the paper and the other rubbing the bottom of my neck back and forth. My heart simply broke with the pure kindness Matt still showed for me.

He broke down above me, hearing small sniffles when he lay his head on top of mine. He held most of my weight with his body and he lowered me on the ground and sat next to me, letting my legs rest under the pressure.

“I’d never, ever be mad at you for this, I just wish you came to me to talk about this. Any of it” Some words were mistakenly for others through the tears that ran down his face.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, i-“

“Hey hey.. look at me.” My eyes try and focus on Matt, but they stutter and shut tight, releasing the tears that blocked my vision. My throat starts to feel tighter and restricts my breathing slightly.

“Don’t apologise, jus- just talk to me.. what’s happened baby”.

I use a free hand to wipe my face and the breathes that I take in are shaky but are enough to relax my body.

“My anxiety just keeps flaring up, to the point where it’s almost constant and in any situation. Its why I’m cancelling so much on you. I keep feeling so guilty whenever I mess up and so after everything built up, I started to- to self-harm and I just kept getting worse. I didn’t want to bother you when you had your own anxiety to cope with” words spill from my mouth in some sort of word vomit, but it was the only way to say what I needed without feeling so overwhelmed.

I had started to scratch at my wrists gently and I didn’t notice until Matt took my hand in his and caressed the skin lightly, his touch allowing me to ground myself.

“Is this why you shut people out?”

“Yeah..it’s why I’ve been cancelling and distant.” I lay my head down onto his, seeking comfort from his touch.

“What can I do?” Calmness starts to rise through his words, getting rid of most the emotion that tore us down a few moments prior.

“What?”

“I want to help you, you don’t deserve this, baby.” The grip on my palm moves to my arm and shoulder and rubs it while pulling me slightly closer.

“You being here is enough. I was so scared to tell anyone about this, I was so paranoid that they would shut me out. But-“ my eyes welled up again but this time it wasn’t for anxiety. I wasn’t shaking anymore, and my throat eased up the pressure, finally letting me take my first stable breath.

“I’ll never leave, I’m always here to listen and talk when you, literally anything you want.”

My hand raises to hug him tighter, but my shirt gets caught on the skin of my scars and makes me wince and pull back.

“Hey, you alright y/n?” he sits up and hold my hand that pulled away from him and grabs the end of the fabric.

“Mhm just pulled some skin I- I’m fine.”

He looks between the hand he holds and my own gaze asking for permission but before he does anything, I pull the shirt back up towards my elbow. I hear a faint gasp from Matt followed by a shaky exhale, realizing the real damage caused by my mental health.

“Let’s bandage this up, yeah?” he stands up beside me and holds his hand before me to help me up, which I oblige.

-

I look at my arm again and my mind clears from my issues. The severity of my actions caused by my own hands. The person I once admired simply was torn through the skin and it was hard for me to look away. I only did when Matt placed his hand on my chin and made me face him, seeing how long I was staring for.

“M’sorry..” a tight-lipped smile crosses his face before he pulls me in for a hug and rubs my back in a soothing way. Falling into a quiet atmosphere.

“I love you, Matt”.

“I love you more, kid.”

We stay in silence for a bit, only breaking it to sniffle from our tears or to adjust ourselves onto one another.

I was finally feeling the peace I craved for months, and I was happy it was with Matt.

@melliflws @axolotllover225 @yuhayeee @st7rnioioss @sturn-bugz @bueckerssturns @worldlxvlys @patscorner @breeloveschris @y0urm4m @bernardsbendystraws @junnniiieee07 @raysmayhem-72 @luverboychris @rootbeerworshiper

[polakina]

how they fuck you

red dead redemption headcanons #2

hc masterlist // masterlist

on my third playthrough of rdr2 and i cannot bring myself to play low honour. why do i put myself through this?

also this is ridiculously long, got a little carried away but i shall not apologise

rating: explicit

-

is always gentle with you at first

delicate touches, lingering kisses, gazing eyes at your every movement or ministration

"what do you want, mi amor? tell me"

loves to hear you beg for him, want him

it just turns him on even more

dirty talk through the ROOF

this man knows how to talk you through it

"fuck you feel amazing, hermosa. yeah, just like that, huh? anything for you"

will eat you out for days if he could

never really tried it before, even when he lived in Mexico, he never really gave it a go

but with you, he wanted to try everything. whatever you wanted, he was up for it

so when you first asked him, he was nervous as hell, but willing to try

he found out he loved it and does it every single fucking time he had you all to himself

buries himself between your thighs like a man starved, his arms wrapped tightly around your thighs to keep you still

his tongue worked fucking wonders on your pussy, knowing exactly where to focus his attention, loving how you always moaned a little softer when his tongue dipped inside your cunt

fucks you slow, savouring the moment when he can

loves to have you riding him. seeing you on top spurs something inside him

his hands grip your waist fiercely, guiding your hips to grind against him, pulling sweet, elicit moans from your throat

loves to cut your clothes from your body with his knife

it's so much more satisfying than just taking them off with his hands

kinda likes quickies. prefers taking his time but there's something about pulling you away for a few minutes to have his way with you behind the protection of a tree or something that he loves

usually happens out on missions, so there's risk of the gang seeing you guys, but what's life without a little risk?

you could be on watch beside your tent while everyone sleeps, and javier will come over to keep you company

but it doesn't take long for his hand to slip into your pants as he whispers all sorts of things in your ear as he sits behind you while you try and continue your watch duty

was terrible at aftercare before, never really understood the in's and out's of it

but learned eventually with you, when you explained it to him

now he's at your beck and call whenever you need it

wear this man's hat around camp and that's all he needs to pull you to a secluded tent

but wear it while you fuck him? arthur would die happy in that exact moment

likes to call you 'cowgirl' when you ride him. you always roll your eyes at how stupid it sounds, but it doesn't stop him

the two of you don't have all the time in the world. being one of dutch's most trusted members, he's needed away from camp a lot more than anyone else

so you've both learned the art of being fast

and it doesn't take long for him to make you cum

never asks for them, but loves blowjobs

he likes to draw in his tent when he's got time to himself, so when he sees you come in and sink to your knees in between his lap, he can't think of a better sight

the absolute king of praises (have you heard how he talks to his horse?? imagine him talking to a woman oml)

not a fan of degrading, he never saw the appeal, but uses other methods to 'punish' you

"what do you want, darlin?" he'd say as he's fucking you from behind, your face pressed into the pillow to stifle your moans, your ass in the air held up by his hands on your hips. "oh babygirl, you wanna cum, huh? then you can beg me for it, can't you?"

will edge you for days

especially when he knows he's going to be away for a few days afterwards

definitely grabs the headboard

mainly for his own stability to be able to thrust into you harder as you moan his name into the room

has his hands on you at all times

holding your hands above your head by your wrists, holding your face against the mattress with his hand on the back of your neck, curling his fingers in your hair and gently yanking your head back when he pounds into you

when you do get a night away from camp, he wants to make it last the whole night

takes his time with you to the point where he's practically teasing you for hours

takes his time undressing you, kissing every part of your body, touching every part of you until his fingerprints were practically imprinted into your skin

give this man some guidance or it's like walking through a maze blindfolded

learned a lot with you

figured out really quick what you liked and what you didn't like, what places he could touch you that would send your head spinning

this eventually led him to learn how to be very sneaky in public

he could touch you in such simple places, in such an innocent way that no one else would think anything of it

but you'd know, and you wouldn't stop it

you like the way he touched your neck? he was all over that shit, cupping your cheek, his fingers tickling your neck

you liked his hands in your hair? his fingers tangled at the base of your neck, pulling your hair slightly to tease you

his hand would rest on your thighs, fingers slowly creeping up your thigh while you were all sat around the campfire

you'd always give him a little glare, which he would ignore, a goofy smirk on his face

and the way he fucked you was no different

he had mastered the art of teasing your body and your limits, and put that knowledge in every time he had you alone

"come on, marston. stop teasin' me like this"

he'd always smirk, working his way down your body in a painfully slowly manner

"i'm takin' my time with you, sweetheart. you just lay back and relax. lemme take care of you"

loved to make you feel good before he even thought about himself

but when he was too pent up, he came a lot quicker than he wanted

but he made up for it when tending to you afterwards until you were practically pushing him away, too sensitive for his expert fingers

not the best at going down on you, but makes up with experience

but what he's really good with is his hands

his fingers

they know exactly what they're doing when he pushes them inside your soaked pussy

curling at that devastating spot inside you that makes you crumble to your knees

loves to be on top of you, seeing your face contort when he pushes inside you slowly, deeply

he's basic, a lover of missionary, but seeing your face and watching your body writhe under his grip is really what turns him on

[awkward-walking-potato]

Hello! I'd like to request sfw/nsfw alphabet for Wade Wilson please! Your fics are really good

SFW Alphabet:

A - Affection:

Wade is incredibly affectionate, but in his own strange way. Expect playful teasing, exaggerated gestures, and over-the-top compliments. He’ll never shy away from showing you love, even in public.

B - Best Friend:

You’re his partner-in-crime—literally. Wade loves having a sidekick or someone to bounce his crazy ideas off of. He’s loyal to the core and would do anything to keep you safe, even if it means annoying you half to death.

C - Cuddles:

Wade loves cuddles, but they might turn into playful wrestling matches or tickle fights. He’s all about physical closeness, especially when it makes him feel grounded and loved.

D - Domestic:

Wade in a domestic setting is chaotic but sweet. He’ll cook (though it might not be edible), attempt to clean (probably leaving more of a mess), and randomly serenade you with ridiculous songs while doing chores.

E - Excitement:

Everything with Wade is an adventure. He thrives on excitement and unpredictability, so being with him means you’ll never be bored. Expect surprise dates, random road trips, and unexpected (and often dangerous) escapades.

F - Flirting:

Wade’s flirting is constant, outrageous, and hilarious. He’ll make inappropriate jokes, use cheesy pickup lines, and always try to get you to laugh, all while genuinely admiring you.

G - Gifts:

He’s the kind of guy who gives you odd but meaningful gifts—think a grenade shaped like a heart or a plushie of his favorite X-Men. Wade’s gifts are usually a combination of thoughtful and utterly bizarre.

H - Hugs:

Hugging Wade is like getting tackled by a hyperactive puppy. He’s warm, a little overwhelming, and never lets go until you’re both out of breath from laughing.

I - Intimacy (Emotional):

While Wade puts up a tough, joking front, he’s deeply emotional underneath. He craves genuine connection and trusts you with his vulnerabilities, even if he hides them behind humor most of the time.

J - Jealousy:

Wade is surprisingly possessive when it comes to people he loves. His jealousy manifests in dramatic, humorous ways—he’ll start over-the-top rivalries with anyone he perceives as competition, but it’s all in good fun.

K - Kisses:

Kissing Wade is always an experience. He’s spontaneous, and his kisses can range from soft and sweet to passionate and wild. Sometimes he’ll sneak kisses mid-battle just because he can.

L - Lazy Days:

On lazy days, Wade loves binge-watching trashy TV shows, stuffing his face with snacks, and lying on the couch in a cuddle pile with you. It’s the rare quiet time that he cherishes more than he’d admit.

M - Mornings:

Wade is not a morning person. He’ll grumble, pull you back into bed, and try to convince you to stay in bed with him for "just five more minutes"—which, in Wade time, could mean hours.

N - Nicknames:

He’ll come up with the most ridiculous and creative nicknames for you, often changing them daily. They’re always endearing, if not a little embarrassing in public.

O - Open:

Wade is an open book, often oversharing or giving you way more information than necessary. He has no filter, but it’s part of his charm. He doesn’t hide anything from you—emotionally or otherwise.

P - Protective:

Wade is fiercely protective of you, often to the point of going overboard. He’d take a bullet, sword, or bomb for you without a second thought, and he’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe, even if he’s a little reckless about it.

Q - Quirks:

Everything about Wade is quirky. He talks to himself (and sometimes the audience), breaks the fourth wall constantly, and finds humor in the darkest situations. Being with him means embracing the chaos.

R - Romantic:

Wade is a hopeless romantic, though his idea of romance might include explosions or elaborate stunts. He genuinely tries to sweep you off your feet, even if his methods are unconventional.

S - Supportive:

He’s your biggest cheerleader, always encouraging you to follow your dreams and be the best version of yourself. Wade might joke around, but when it comes to your happiness, he’s completely sincere.

T - Trust:

Once you’ve earned Wade’s trust, he’s loyal to a fault. He doesn’t trust easily due to his past, but once he lets you in, he’s all in, trusting you with his life (and heart).

U - Understanding:

Despite his chaotic nature, Wade is surprisingly understanding and empathetic. He’s been through a lot, so he’s patient and supportive when it comes to your own struggles.

V - Vulnerable:

Wade hides his vulnerabilities with humor, but when he’s feeling particularly down, he’ll turn to you for comfort. In those rare moments, he’ll let his guard down completely and let you see the softer side of him.

W - Wild:

Wade is wild in every sense of the word. He’s unpredictable, daring, and always full of energy. Being with him means embracing the wild ride that comes with his lifestyle.

X - X-Factor:

Wade’s X-factor is his resilience. No matter how many times life knocks him down, he gets back up, and he always does it with a smile. His ability to keep going, no matter what, is one of the things that makes him truly remarkable.

Y - Yearning:

Wade is the kind of guy who craves love and connection, even if he acts like he’s fine on his own. Deep down, he’s always yearning for that special someone who truly understands him.

Z - Zany:

Everything Wade does is zany, off-the-wall, and unpredictable. You never know what he’ll say or do next, but that’s part of the fun of being with him.

NSFW Alphabet:

A - Aftercare:

Despite his usual chaotic demeanor, Wade is surprisingly sweet after sex. He’ll make sure you’re comfortable, might crack a joke to lighten the mood, and will offer cuddles or snacks if you’re up for it.

B - Body Part:

Wade loves everything about your body, but he’s particularly drawn to your butt. Expect cheeky (literally) comments and playful grabs whenever he’s nearby.

C - Cum:

Wade is pretty open about everything, including this. He finds it hilarious to make jokes about it during the moment, but he’s also surprisingly considerate about cleanup.

D - Dirty Talk:

Wade is all about dirty talk—expect a constant stream of filthy, outrageous, and sometimes downright hilarious comments during sex. He’s got no filter, and he’ll say whatever comes to his mind.

E - Experience:

Wade has been around and has definitely picked up some tricks along the way. He’s confident and adventurous in bed, always willing to try something new to keep things interesting.

F - Favorite Position:

He doesn’t have a favorite because he loves switching it up constantly. Whether it’s something classic or a more creative position, Wade’s all about variety and fun.

G - Goofy:

Sex with Wade is never boring—it’s always filled with laughter, jokes, and playful teasing. He doesn’t take anything too seriously, which makes everything feel relaxed and fun.

H - Hair:

Wade isn’t particular about body hair—he’s seen it all and doesn’t care much about appearances. He might joke about it, but he’s really into whatever makes you feel comfortable.

I - Intimacy (Physical):

Even though Wade’s usually joking around, he’s surprisingly attentive in bed. He’ll make sure you’re enjoying yourself and will do whatever it takes to please you, though he’ll do it with a playful twist.

J - Jack Off:

Wade is open about his masturbation habits and will probably make jokes about it at the most inappropriate times. He’s also not shy about letting you watch if you’re into that.

K - Kink:

Wade is open to just about anything and loves trying new things. Whether it’s role-playing, light bondage, or something a bit more extreme, he’s always down to experiment and see what works for both of you.

L - Location:

Anywhere and everywhere is fair game with Wade. He loves the thrill of spontaneous encounters, whether it’s in a bedroom, an alley, or somewhere completely unexpected.

M - Motivation:

Wade’s always ready to go, but what really gets him in the mood is seeing you happy and confident. He’s turned on by your excitement and loves knowing that he can make you feel good.

N - No:

While Wade’s open to almost anything, he’s respectful of boundaries. He’ll never push you to do something you’re uncomfortable with and is surprisingly understanding about your limits.

O - Oral:

Wade is a fan of giving and receiving oral, and he’s very enthusiastic about it. He loves the reactions he gets from you and will often tease or prolong the moment just to drive you wild.

P - Pace:

Wade’s pace is usually fast and playful, but he can slow down if the moment calls for it. He’s adaptable

Q - Quickies:

Wade loves quickies. The thrill of sneaking in a spontaneous moment of passion, especially in unexpected places, excites him. Whether it's before a mission or during a mundane task, he’s always up for some fast-paced fun.

R - Risk:

Wade is all about taking risks and loves the idea of getting caught (or not caring if you do). He’s adventurous and doesn’t shy away from more dangerous or thrilling locations for your escapades. That said, he’s still mindful of your boundaries and ensures you’re on board with any risky play.

S - Stamina:

Thanks to his healing factor, Wade has insane stamina. He can go for hours, multiple rounds, and still be ready for more. He’ll make it a point to match your energy, keeping things exciting and varied so neither of you ever gets bored.

T - Toys:

Wade is a big fan of incorporating toys into the mix. He loves experimenting with all sorts of gadgets and devices, and he’s not afraid to raid an adult store with you. Whether it’s vibrating toys, restraints, or something more exotic, he’s always eager to add a little extra spice to the fun.

U - Unusual:

Sex with Wade is rarely traditional. He’s into trying new, unusual things and finds excitement in the unexpected. Whether it’s an unconventional position, a strange location, or some absurd roleplay scenario, Wade thrives on making things weird (in the best way possible).

V - Volume:

Wade is loud during sex. He’s constantly cracking jokes, making exaggerated noises, or offering running commentary about what’s happening. He’s vocal in every sense—whether he’s giving praise, making dirty jokes, or just making you laugh, expect a lot of noise.

W - Wild:

Wade’s sexual appetite and style are wild, untamed, and always unpredictable. He’s game for almost anything and loves pushing the boundaries of what you’d expect in bed. His wild side keeps things exciting, making every experience feel new and exhilarating.

X - X-Ray:

Wade is completely open about his body, even with his scars and imperfections. He makes light of his appearance but always reassures you with humor and confidence that what matters is how he feels about you. He’s also obsessed with how much you enjoy his body and won’t hesitate to ask (or joke about) what parts of him you like best.

Y - Yearning:

Wade is deeply passionate and craves closeness. Beneath all his jokes, there’s an intense need for affection and physical connection. He’s always eager to be near you, whether it’s through playful teasing, affectionate touches, or full-on passion, and his yearning comes through in every intimate moment.

Z - Zzz:

After all the excitement, Wade is more likely to pass out from exhaustion than drift off peacefully. He’s always full of energy, so when he finally crashes, it’s sudden. You might find him snoring almost immediately after, tangled up with you in the aftermath of all the fun

[hero-israel]

Breathe.

It is normal to feel pain, alarm, and sorrow, as we see what our world has turned into, as we hear what so many want to do to us. It wouldn't be human to feel any other way. I've been deeply involved in this issue for many years and truly did not expect so much of the goyische world to immediately go full werewolf on the thrill of seeing Jews tortured and massacred in high-res. Many of them are lost to us, and as far as I am concerned, there is nothing they could ever, ever do to regain my trust. They would never even think to give an apology, and even if they did, I would never accept it.

It makes matters all the worse that Israel - this age's morph of the reason to hate us - has for the last ~16 months been run by objectively evil and horrible people. A few of them have talked publicly about "encouraging voluntary resettlement" or claim to have held negotiations with African states. In all cases, less vile people from the same government have immediately denied those stories and said there is no such policy, no such talks, it is all just suggestions. When you have a government run by Internet trolls, criminals, and terrorist sympathizers, that is how they talk. There is no imaginable mechanism for any of this - it is impossible to believe any country would go along with it, or that it is taken seriously by anyone beyond whichever racist asshole is thinking out loud next to a reporter at that time. But even as idle blather, it is immensely dangerous. It represents a threshold we cannot cross. We cannot - as you said - "make that look good." The best we can do is recognize that this particular evil racist doesn't actually have the authority or method for doing it, he's just jerking off, the Attorney-General told them to shut up and stop advocating crimes.

There have been so many times when the world went utterly batshit about Israeli actions that were totally innocuous, about rumors that never even happened. I talk about it here all the time. Part of me is hoping that is an element of this case, even as I'm afraid, this time, it might not be.

And as I'm also afraid that things will get even worse for us if, as looks very likely, Trump wins next time.

So it is okay to feel utterly terrible about things.

And yet, we still have to breathe.

We are alive because Jewish people got through much worse times than these, with far fewer resources and allies than we have today. Everything we know, everything we worry about now, exists because even though They Tried To Kill Us, We Survived.

Confront reality - without despair. We are facing bad times and they may get worse, but we will get through them.

[dtrghost]

closeness and proximity part.6

pairing: ghost x f!reader

synopsis: callsign is sunshine, because you're anything but. team 141 thought ghost was bad? at least they could crack a smile out of the guy from time to time, you? you were stone faced, all day, every day. until one day you're not, not with a certain someone anyway.

warnings: fluff, some angst, ooc simon, virgin! reader, 18+ smut, cunnilingus, piv, praise kink, this a softer smut, degrading terms are still gonna be used but in a praising way because i think after everything that's happened her first time shouldn't be too much, he still gets rough though. size kink, overstimulation!receiving, some masochism!receiving on simon's behalf, some sub!ghost, cursing.

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT:

word count:

The last half a year wasn't as bad as she thought it'd be. Turns out she wasn't a sociopath, she had some tendencies sure, but in reality she was just broken from years of unresolved trauma. She had a long way to go, but according to the reports sent to HQ by her therapist, Ms. Maeve Riva, she was making excellent progress.

Price moved out halfway through her leave, and at first she was happy about it, the flat was a lot cleaner, quieter, she had more space for herself and she could decorate it in peace without hearing him grumble about how feminine her decor was.

But she got lonely within a week, and adding on the depression from reliving her worst traumatic experiences, she'd end up calling someone to talk to, which was more often than not, Price. She trusted him enough for that, and she knew he wouldn't tell the team. She wanted them to think she was getting better, and in a lot of ways she was, but some aspects of recovery couldn't be helped.

It was the last day before she was officially off leave and back on call, and she wanted to make it memorable. She sat down in her usual spot in front of Maeve who smiled warmly at her.

"Last day! I brought.." She pulled out two half liter bottles of cherry coke, handing one to her with a cheeky look in her eyes.

"These, to celebrate you! Look how far you've come!" Her therapist gushed emotionally. She chuckled, cracking it open and taking a sip. She sighed at the burn of the carbonation as it slide down to her stomach.

"Thank you Maeve. Couldn't have done it without you and you're weird obsession with tea." Maeve rolled her eyes, snickering as she took a swig from her bottle. Normally she'd do this with alcohol, but knowing her client it was best not to.

"So what's on the agenda for today. Party your heart out, one night stand." She hummed, shrugging her shoulders.

"I was actually gonna call a friend of mine."

"Oooooo one night stand with a friend then. Those are always interesting." She laughed and looked at her incredulously.

"No no no just for some time to reconnect. I'm getting tired of being alone all the time." Maeve nodded, tilting her bottle towards her in agreement.

"Who's this friend of yours? Are they hot?"

"Name's classified, but damn straight he's hot. Shit. I wanted to climb him like a tree when we first met." Her eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"Alright then. So have you asked him out yet?" She sighed, leaning back on the couch.

"Nope. Don't even know where he is right about now. Haven't tried to call in the last 6 months either."

"And why is that?" Here the therapy session truly started.

"About 2 weeks before I was put on leave we had an.. altercation. Meaning a knife to my neck and some hurtful words. He apologized, we moved on, but a part of me still feels like what he said was true." She knew what she was referring to, and she leaned forward and put her hand on her knee gently.

"You then and you now are two very different people. Yes your occupation requires more, gruesome methods of getting information out of people, but you feel remorse, you do it out of necessity. You can't keep beating yourself up about it." Y/N nodded, looking down at her phone for a second in contemplation.

"Give him a call. I'll be here with you." Her eyes flickered to Maeve's, only seeing comfort and reassurance. She sighed, her tongue poking at the side of her cheek for a moment before she picked up her phone and looked in her notes. She'd asked Price for Simon's number before he left, and she saved it for when she got the courage to actually contact him. She took a deep breath, hitting the call button and listening to it ring in her ear.

"This is Ghost." Her heart was beating out her chest, the sound of his voice causing her eyes to water involuntarily. Maeve noticed the immediate panic in her eyes and reached over to squeeze her hand, gesturing her to respond. She couldn't hear the conversation, but she could tell by her facial expressions the idea of what was going on.

"Uh-, hey, it's Y/N." All the air left his lungs for a moment, his throat dry as he sat up from his bed. It was his off day, so he back at his flat, watching some old crime movie that he'd seen a while back and took a liking to.

"I just wanted to ask if you um, if you wanted to just ya know, hang out with me later. If you can." She hated how she sounded. Her voice was shaky and she was having a hard time getting the words out. The silence was killer, and it was because he was shocked. 6 months of no contact and suddenly she's asking him to dinner.

"...Yeah. Alright. Time?" Her eyes blew open, Maeve cheering her on as she forced herself to remain calm.

"Does 6:30 work for you? I know you prefer staying in so I can-"

"S'alright I'll come to you. I know where you live anyway."

"Oh alright." It went silent for a bit, and she shrugged at Maeve's curious look.

"...You doing alright then?" He asked quietly.

"Yeah. I'll tell you about it when I see. I don't have alcohol so if you plan to drink you'll have to bring your own. Oh, and no masks. Bye." She hung up quickly, taking a deep inhale as she looked at Maeve with wide eyes.

"So you have a date then."

"I guess so. He's coming to me... fuck." She realized she had no idea when he was going to show up.

"We can cut this one short. I got you covered." She thanked her, seeing it was 4 and she needed time to get ready. She rushed home, cleaning up before racing upstairs to change where she was suddenly at a loss. What the hell was she going to wear?

Simon was in no better situation either, staring at his closet that consisted of hoodies, cargo pants, black t-shirts, and mostly work attire. What did a hang out at her place constitute? Nothing formal surely, casual? He decided on a black t-shirt, jeans, and a pair of black shoes he had that weren't too worn out.

The idea of no masks surprised him, but he didn't care too much. They'd known each other for years and he'd been meaning to find a reason to show her his face, and seeing her own. Then realization struck him.

Did that mean she's not wearing one either?

He couldn't help the sudden bloom of excitement in his chest and stomach at the thought of it. He sprayed on his cologne and grabbed his keys before heading to his car. He had memorized the way there, having driven by sometimes to catch a quick glimpse at her as a way to check in.

She sighed, looking in the mirror at her final look, fear and overthinking plaguing her mind. She didn't wanna look like a bum in her own house, so she put on a nicer pair of clothes, which was really just an all black, long sleeve two piece. She looked comfortable but put together at the same time, even if she was anything but the latter.

What if she just called him and said something came up? What if he's already driving over here?

A knock on her door interrupted her thoughts, mentally cursing herself as she sprayed herself with her favorite perfume and scurried downstairs while adjusting her hair. With a deep breath, the door opened and her eyes blew open, and so did his.

Fuckin' hell. I'm not gonna make it through the night. He thought to himself.

Her mask was off, revealing her perfect nose, skin, and god those lips. They were just the right size, shiny with whatever lipgloss she was wearing. She flashed him a smile that took his breath away. Her outfit hugged her curves in sinful ways that made him swallow his drool before it had to chance to run out of his mouth.

He was just as hot, the way his clothes perfectly hugged him figure, showing off the slim of his waist and broad, bulky shoulders. His pants accentuated his muscular thighs, getting just that much tighter around them as he moved in them.

His jaw was chiseled, as if sculpted by the Gods themselves, his scars added depth to his face with plump lips and a look that would make anyone's drawls or panties fall off. She's surprised hers didn't.

"You look great."

"You look beautiful." They said at the same time, their cheeks beginning to burn.

"Thank you Simon. It's good to see you again."

"It's good to see you too Y/N, oh and I.. I brought these.. for you." He pulled out a bouquet of flowers from behind his back, her eyes lighting up in surprise as she hadn't noticed his arm behind his frame in the first place. They were gorgeous. White roses with stems of lavender to compliment them.

"Awwww thank you. These are beautiful." She smelled them, humming at the aroma.

"Do you mind if I put them in a vase really quick?" He shook his head, watching her shuffle back into the flat as he trailed behind her, shutting the door. He took his time looking around, nodding to himself as he was impressed at how well decorated it was. He left his fairly bare, the walls were gray and he'd only furnished it with the necessities. He watched her walk back into the room, bending down to put the flowers on the coffee table in front of the couches.

He almost groaned at how perfectly those pants hugged her legs, complimenting the shape of her ass as she adjusted the vase to be at the center of the table. Her hair fell off to the side beautifully, her velvet locks entrancing him as this was only the second time he'd seen it naturally. He forced himself to look away as she stood back up, smiling at them before shifting her gaze to him. She noticed that he didn't bring anything other than the flowers.

"Not drinking tonight?" He shook his head, dropping his keys onto the table.

"Alright, do you want anything else? Water, I have some coke."

"Coke's fine." She hummed, quickly grabbing two bottles from her fridge and coming back to see him getting himself comfortable on her couch.

"Here." She passed it to him before taking a seat next to him, crossing her leg over the other as she grabbed the remote to put on a movie.

Fuck, those thighs of hers.

He couldn't help but let his mind drift off for just a moment.

How good they'd look locked around his head as he ate her pretty little cunt out until she was begging for him to stop. How'd they feel against his body as he fucked her through the night. Their smoothness, how'd they be shaking by dawn.

"Simon, you okay?" Her voice dragged him out. She looked at him curiously as he snapped out of it suddenly, embarrassed.

"Penny for your thoughts?" She pressed, making him snicker to her surprise.

"I don't think we'd make it to the end of the movie if I told you that." Her jaw dropped for a moment, suddenly not sure how to comprehend his blatant statement as her thighs unconsciously pressed together.

"Don't do that." He commanded roughly, eyes flickering away from her legs and his hand squeezing the bottle in his hand a bit tighter. Suddenly she understood, and she couldn't help the grin stretching across her face making him roll his eyes.

"I know I know, I'm hot. Don't gotta tell me." She teased lightly, chuckling to herself.

"Don't get all cocky on me now. You were the one fantasizing about me while I was in the shower that one time." "Fuck yeah. Told my therapist about it too, she thought I should've shot my shot when I had the chance back then." He looked over to her for a brief moment, watching as she took in the look in his eyes before they flickered back to the screen.

"You could still shoot it." He suggested quietly, his cheeks burning red as he took another swig of his drink. He wished he'd brought the damn whiskey.

"Would I miss?" He huffed a small laugh at her uncertainty.

"You never miss." Her throat went dry, her eyes darting around the room in front of her before her hand reached out to the one he had on his thigh, grasping it in hers before resting it on the meat of hers.

She sighed lightly at the feeling of his hand squeezing her quads, her eyes shutting for a moment as she let her head fall back.

"Call it a miracle if we get to the credits Riley." He chuckled, his thumb stroking her clothed skin gently. They watched the movie in tense silence, their breathing a bit ragged in an attempt to not jump on each other.

"So, how's the team been?" She began, watching him shift in his spot.

"S'been good. Soap's still a shithead but what's new with that." He listened to her chuckle, missing the melody of it.

"Not surprising."

"How's therapy been? Honestly." He was looking for a genuine answer, turning his head and seeing her bite her inner cheek for a moment.

"It's been rough at times, but I guess I should've been expecting that." She avoided Simon's gaze for a bit while, feeling a bit odd talking about it. When she looked back up, she noticed his look focused on her neck.

Her hand reached up, feeling the unevenness in the area from the scar that was left after he pressed his knife against her neck.

"It's okay, forgot it was even there." She brushed off.

"No it's not." Every part of him regretted that, he never forgave himself.

"It was justified. I threatened you before that too. You were just scared, rightfully so." She had reached over to the other side of him, grasped his clenched fist and gently poking her fingers through the break it apart.

"Si, honey. Look at me." His eyes flickered to hers, his chest tightening at the tenderness looking back at him as she squeezed his hand. She was so close, he could smell her lovely perfume, one that made his head spin.

"I forgive you. Okay?" He hesitated, his hand slowly relaxing as hers slipped in, intertwining their fingers for a moment before she sat back. She noticed the dazed look on his face, his mouth slightly opened as his eyes flickered all over her body, from her face, to her waist, to her legs, and back up.

"So how long have you had a crush on me for."

"Oh fuckin' hell."

"What it's a fair question! I'll answer if you answer."

"I'm not answering that."

"Yes you are."

"No I'm not."

"Why not?"

"Because it's a bloody stupid question that's why."

"No it's not! If we're gonna fuck then I should at least get to know how long you've been waiting." He sighed, pinching the bridge of his eyebrow and listening to her laugh.

"Well, hopefully not JUST fuck, but I'll take what I can get." She added on quietly, picking at her nails with a small smile on her lips.

"Since a few months after we met." He answered suddenly, looking back up at her. His stare was intense, as it always was, his amber eyes boring into hers.

"Yeah. About the same for me. I didn't understand it for a while until I went through therapy, a bit before that but I wasn't completely sure until I talked it out." He nodded.

"Thank you, by the way." She spoke up, her leg beginning to bob nervously.

"For?"

"Everything. Trying to help me when I didn't want it, coming back for me, fighting HQ for me. All that stuff."

"Of course I came back for you." She placed down her bottle with a shrug.

"I didn't think you would."

Sick, selfish bastard. I don't want something like that on my team.

Those words had stuck with her, and he could tell.

"Oh um, speaking of. We did this thing in therapy where I had to write a letter to the person I think I hurt the most and you were one of them. I was gonna mail it but I never found the courage. Can I just give it to you now?" His eyes widened for a moment, placing down his coke on the floor next to him and giving her a curt nod. She rushed upstairs, opening her drawer and taking out the singular letter she had kept, the rest already having been shipped out.

She stared at it for a moment. Was she ready to hand this to him? For him to read her thoughts and emotions during one of the most vulnerable times of her life? She could say she lost it, accidentally shipped it to the wrong address by mistake. She could've just wrote "sorry for being a prick my bad" and moved on, but she made it personal, emotional, she was pretty sure that there was a stain on it from a tear that had fallen as she wrote.

"Get lost?" Simon called out, noticing how long she'd been gone. She took a deep breath before going back down, staring down at it as she took a seat next to him. He could see her hesitance to hand it to him, her fingers tightly glued to the sides.

"Read it to me then." He offered, shifting his body to face her.

"I'm not sure if that'll be any better."

"I disagree. Go on. Take your time." She felt small in that moment, his intense gaze causing her hands to shake as her finger glided over the indents of his name written on the front. She turned it over, gently slipping her finger underneath the seal of the envelope and opening it, pulling out the letter.

"I tried to keep it short." She spoke, her heart pounding and her voice wavering. He nodded, though she likely didn't see it with how trained her eyes were on the letter. With a deep breath, she started, her voice being the only sound in the room as Simon paused the movie.

"Dear Simon, I dreaded writing your letter because of how personal it would be, but I managed to force myself to pick up my pen and put ink on the page. This letter has no goal, and my therapist told me it was supposed to make me feel better, but that isn't the case for this one."

She stopped for a moment, feeling her throat close up and tighten.

"Take your time lovie." He crooned softly, watching as her eyes darted around the page. She could do this, she thought to herself, clearing her throat and beginning again.

"We've known each other for a few years now, and at first I thought we'd be great friends. We were alike in some ways and even if some our conversations were painfully awkward, I looked forward to them. I was excited when I found out that I was being moved to team 141 because I'd see you again. I used to stay up sometimes and think about some bullshit future with you, where we'd live somewhere quiet together, getting old with a cat and a small garden in the back or whatever else I imagined. But then I actually got there."

She could feel the tears burning in her eyes. Simon didn't speak, instead he just continued to stare at her with a soft gaze, watching the emotions flicker in her eyes, like the candlelight he had seen all that time ago.

"I was confused. I didn't understand why I imagined these fantasies about us or why I wanted to be around you in the first place. I couldn't handle all of it at the time. I had done horrible things in front of you, tortured people in ways that now I can't stomach thinking about. There is no amount of money or apologies I can give to take my actions back, to bring those people back to life and figure out another way. And I did it because I'd seen it done before. I've watched the strongest of people break in Verdansk, and I replicated it because I knew it would work, and that's what matters right? That i got the job done."

Her voice had cracked, the tears that had once blurred her vision now streaming down her cheeks.

"I know that none of this is an excuse, and I won't ask for your forgiveness because I know that I don't deserve it. But I need you to know that I'm sorry, for hurting you, for scaring you, for failing you. Your face in that room is what I see when I close my eyes at night, consistently reliving it every chance of sleep that I get. You tried to save me and I didn't let you, and I'll always regret that. You words stuck with me, and I promise that I will spend the rest of my life trying to make amends with myself and everyone else I've hurt. If you've gotten this far, thank you for reading, and for what it's worth, if anything, I'm truly sorry for what I've done to you.

Yours wholeheartedly,

-Y/N L/N."

He watched as she covered her face with the paper to try and hide her sobs, even though her body shook and convulsed lightly as she cried. His body moved before his mind did, getting up silently. She thought he was leaving, and she was okay with that.

"Hey, look at me." He cooed softly, gently taking the paper from her tight grip and placing it on the table behind him. Her eyes flickered to his, her cheeks red and puffy in his hands as he cupped her cheeks.

"I forgive you, Y/N." His voice was calm, even. She shook her head, her hands coming up to her face to hide her tears, only for him to pull her arms away and intertwine their fingers.

"What I said was fucked up. It's not true. You're not sick, you're not selfish. Do you hear me?" The resolve in his eyes only made her feel worse. She wanted him to hate her, to scream in her face and rip up her letter, but here he was. On his knees in front of her and holding her hands, doing the opposite.

"You're all I want, and you're all I'll need. I know that now, always have." He could still see the hesitance and disbelief in her wide range of emotions, so he did what he's been wanting to do for so long. His hands went back to her face, and with a gentle tug their lips met. It was almost too overwhelming, the sensations that flooded her senses soon overpowered her. She kissed back with the same fiery passion, sighing into his mouth as his hands dropped to her waist.

He rose, pushing her frame back into the couch, hovering over her. She was engulfed by him, he kissed her like it would be his last, pouring every ounce of his soul into hers, and she drank it gladly. She engraved the feeling of his soft lips on hers into her mind, feeling the roughness of his palms gliding under her top to feel her skin against his.

"Let me show you how much I need you lovie." He muttered against her lips, his eyes dark with lust, love, and desire.

"Let me take care of you."

Her throat when dry at his words as they sent shockwaves through her body, her thighs pressing together once more as heat gathered in the place she now needed him the most. With a single nod she was picked up in his arms, her legs wrapped around his middle as he began heading up the stairs to her room.

"Where." He followed her point to the right, pushing the door open with his hand and shutting it with his leg. His lips met hers again, moaning at the feeling of her hands combing through his hair. He tossed her onto the bed with a small umph, and she suddenly regretted wearing pants.

~ Oh we're switching to 2nd POV for this yall. Buckle up! Or should I say saddle up ;)))) ~

He settled himself between your legs, his hands squeezing the flesh of your plump ass as his lips hit yours, this time rougher and more needy.

"You ever done this before lovie?" He mumbled against your lips. Your breath hitched, your body tensing underneath his as you look away, embarrassed by your unspoken answer. He on the other hand, he loved it. His length grew impossibly harder at the idea of him being your first and your last.

He'd be damned to let you go again. You were it for him, it ended here, just you and him.

"Hey hey, look at me." Your eyes flickered to his, only to find fondness and excitement in his eyes as he rested his forehead against yours.

"It's alright love. I'm more than happy to be your first." He could feel you relax, his lips grazing over yours as he moved to your ear.

"I'll do it right yeah? I'll take my time with you, give it to you real nice and ruin you. You want that sweet thing? You want me to ruin you?" He could hear your uneven, shaky breaths as your legs pressed together, trying to relieve some of the pressure of your arousal. He groaned at the sight, of your small body under his and aching to be touched by his big, rough hands.

"Please Si." You whimpered, your eyes shiny with lust and need. He used his knee to push your legs open, his hand traveling down your body and cupping your hot sex. Your skin burned at him feeling how wet you were, the moisture pushing through your panties and just nearly to your pants.

"I know lovie. I got you, always have right?" You nodded vigorously, buckling your hips into his hand desperately for some friction. He hummed, pressing a sweet kiss on your lips before they traveled to your neck. You felt his tongue travel over your scar in a silent apology, one of likely many as his hand cupped your breast under your shirt. He loved how perfectly they fit in his hands, how soft and supple they were.

"How about we take some of these things off." His suggestion was more of an order, and you worked quick, pulling off your top and unclipping your bra as his knees sat on either side of your hips, watching with a raging hard on and sultry eyes.

"You're fucking beautiful love, so perfect for me." You felt vulnerable under his intense gaze, gripping the sheets to stop yourself from covering your chest. His head came down, swirling his tongue around your nipple as he teased and pinched the other one. Your breathy, soft moans were music to his ears, and they only grew louder as you felt him grind his clothed length against your core. He kissed and sucked, leaving marks all over chest to claim you as his.

"Simon" You whined, grabbing at his shirt, watching it ride a bit to showcase his lower back. With a smirk he lifted himself up for a moment, slowly peeling off his shirt as if he were giving you a show before tossing it somewhere in the room. Your hands began to roam, and he watched as you became entranced by him, your fingers delicately tracing his scars and running over his muscles.

You shivered, feeling his finger gliding underneath the waistband of your pants. You watched as he got off of you, sinking down to his knees as he began to slide them and your panties off of your legs. With a grip of your thighs he yanked you closer, amused by your small yelp as he examined your wet cunt.

Were you okay down there? Your thoughts began to race as he sat in silence.

"You... are a fucking goddess." His words caused you to gasp lightly, his hands pushing at your now arched legs to open them wider for him. You exhaled shakily at the feeling of him kissing and nipping at your inner thighs, leaving more marks he'd probably reencounter soon.

He was addicted to you already, fuck knows how many times he'll be in your room on base, doing just this.

He gripped your hips, cementing you in place before he licked a strip from your hole to your clit, listening to you moan as your head fell back against the bed.

"Eyes on me lovie. Want you to watch me eat this delicious fucking pussy." Once your eyes met his, he began eating you out like a starved man who had been deprived of a good meal for months. Your hands landed on his head in shock by his vigor and need as you moaned his name. He hummed, the vibrations adding to the hot pleasure that was coursing through your body as his tongue swirled around your clit.

"Fuck this is the best pussy I've ever had." He growled, his tongue entering your hole as he fucked you expertly. He forced himself to not thrust his hips into the bed for some relief, focusing all of his efforts into this moment. You moaned his name as you approached your orgasm, his eyes shooting up to look at you as he almost came from the way you said it. You felt his fingers replace his tongue, grinning at you as two slipped into easily.

"Gotta get this pretty cunt ready for me lovie." When his mouth attached to your clit and his fingers moved inside you, you saw stars, your hand gripped his free one that pressed flat of your lower stomach.

"Cum for me. Cum all over my fucking fingers." He instructed. He felt you clench down on his fingers, your head thrown back in ecstasy as your orgasm rocked you. He continued his motions until your whined, pushing at his head to get him off for a moment.

"You taste amazing, fuck I could do that for hours." He came up, pressing his lips against yours and shoving his tongue in your mouth, letting you taste your euphoria. You tugged on the belt loop of his jeans, feeling his chest vibrate against yours as he chuckled. He stood back up, your eyes trained on his body as he undid his button, letting his jeans drop.

Your eyes blew open, a sudden fear striking your heart. He was massive, his tip red in agony from the lack of attention.

"Si... that's not gonna fit." You told him. He brushed it off, stepping out of his pants and returning to his position, hovering over you.

"I'll make it fit. Don't worry." Shivers ran up your spine at his deep, raspy promise to you. You reached down, gathering some of your slick and beginning to slide your hand up and down his cock. his head hung for a moment, moaning your name softly. You sped up for a brief moment, only for him to yank your hand away with a shake of his head.

"This is about you love. Just do me a favor and say my name all pretty like you did earlier while I fuck you." You moaned, your arms wrapping around his neck as he grabbed the base of his dick, slowly pressing himself into you with a quiet groan in your ear. You felt yourself stretching to accommodate his size, your eyes flickering down to watch as he slowly disappeared into your sopping cunt.

He bottomed out with a moan, looking down at you.

"Any pain pretty?" Your cheeks burned at the pet name, shaking your head as he shifted your hips to get comfortable, listening to him hiss at the movement. He gives you a moment to adjust, and with your signal of buckling your hips into him for friction, he began thrusting into you. His pace was slow, following through with his promise to take his time with you as he memorized the feeling of your pussy clamped around him, hot and wet and needy for him to fill you up.

You soon began moaning loudly, still sensitive from his tongue as your nails pressed into his back.

"You're taking me so well Y/N, swear your pussy was made just for my cock." He grabbed your chin, forcing you to look him in the eyes as he fucked you.

"You were made for me love, made to be fucked like the pretty fuck toy you are." Your mind was sent into cloud 9, the feeling of his hips driving into you with purpose and need sending you over the edge.

"Oh fuck si right there!" He knew just how to fuck you, his length hitting the spot he knew would make you see stars, spots that had never been touched or stimulated in your life until now. He grunted at the feeling of your squeezing him again, kissing and sucking your neck as he pounded into you faster.

"Oh f-fuck yeah. Pussy feels amazing, so fucking good for me Y/N. I can feel myself, right here love" He took your hand and used his to push yours down on your lower stomach, feeling him fuck you with rhythm.

You were the best he'd ever had, and the best he'll ever have. No one could compare to you, nobody could moan his name like you could, make him feel good like you could. He was yours now, and he intended to let everyone, including yourself know that. The pleasure soon grew to be overwhelming, your fingers digging into his shoulder blades and making him shudder and whine into your ear.

"Fuck, do that again lovie. Mark me. Give me something to show off and let em know I belong to you." And you did just that. You left deep, red scratch marks on his back, kissing and nipping at his neck and his chest, leaving dark marks that he could flaunt later. His praises never stopped, him talking you through every orgasm you had and quickly slipping his cock back in when one had forced him out. He had no filter now, saying anything he wanted, which consisted of the filthiest words you'd ever hear him speak, and each time it would bring you and him that much closer to the never ending ecstasy you found in each other.

"S-Si I can't." You cried, tears rushing down your face as you pushed at his chest, the pleasure mixing with pain as your legs shook against his torso.

"One more for me. I'm so close lovie." Your want for him to cum was more than enough to help you persevere, his thumb coming down to rub your clit as he felt his orgasm approach.

"Where do you want me my love." He groaned, looking down at your fucked out face with his hooded eyes.

"In me. Please fill me up Si." You begged, your doe eyes big and watery. He let out a dirty moan you'd have to get out of him again later when you were able to move again as he let your legs down, fucking you fast in missionary, your legs locked around his middle.

"You want me to breed you huh. Dirty little girl, I'll give it to you. Fill that tight pussy up, you'll be full of me every day, walking around with my seed running down those pretty thighs of yours." His words sent both of you into a euphoria, your cum mixing together as he shot his load into you, your pussy having a vice grip around him as he shuddered. He managed to fuck you through yours, only stopping when you had begged him to with your pretty voice.

"Shhhh. I'll take care of you Y/N. Just trust me." He cooed in your ear, slowly pulling out of you and hearing you whimper from the loss of connection. He picked you up, bringing you to the shower that you lazily directed him to. He ran a bath, noticing how you were unable to stand up without his help. He scrubbed you clean, leaving loving kisses on your delicate skin, feeling you shiver as his tongue swirled over a few love bites he made.

When you were all clean he dried you off and helped you get dressed. You sent him to shower and managed to keep yourself up enough to grab some old clothes Price left behind that you cleaned and left in your drawer for whenever he came back for them, which was never. You laid on the bed, your eyes closing from exhaustion as you curled into yourself under your comforter, missing Simon's warmth and body heat. You were asleep by the time he got out, throwing his clothes into your laundry hamper and slipping into bed next to you, bringing your body flush against his.

"Goodnight lovie." He soothed, brushing your hair back and pressing a slow, loving kiss on your forehead before falling asleep with you, happy and content to have you in his arms.

That night was the first in 6 months where you slept through the night, no nightmares to plague your mind, no loneliness to keep you up in tears. You were in his arms, full of his love in every way, your closeness and proximity being the last identifier you needed to believe that life would get better.

And it would, you both knew it.

And that's it people!! It was my first time writing smut to be published so bear with me if it's bad. I might write a follow up chapter to this series but this is what I'll consider to be the last part! Thank you so much for your love and support and if you have an ideas for the next series, any hcs, preferences, smut etc let me know!

@thaprilks @bowtruckleninja @almightywdm @niallcozidonthavebettername @gothgirl6-6-6

[sayafics]

Dance of Shadows - Chapter IV

Sorry this took so long to update, I spent a lot of time figuring out the timeline and how the story would work with the scenes I wanted to add.

I hope you enjoy it nonetheless! This is a really long chapter which hopefully makes up for the long wait!

Expect a lot more Saenyra&Daemon moments in the next chapter! This chapter was a mix between adding more depth to their relationship, as well as building one between Saenyra and other characters <3

Previous Chapter

Masterlist

Saenyra's heart ached endlessly when the news of Daemon's exile had reached her - she had expected it, of course. But the weight of her mother's death and now the absence of her uncle had become too much to bear.

Her mind fell back to her incidental meetings with the Lord Hand, and of how his words had turned kind despite his cold eyes, since her mother had passed. She understood why the man would be sympathetic to such a thing, having lost his wife to the same burdens of labour as she had lost her mother.

There was a quiet kinship there, a moment of solidarity and understanding.

Perhaps that was why he had come to her chambers today, knocking upon her door and entering with a sullen expression as she beckoned him forth.

Behind his slender form stood the broad figure of Ser Harwin Strong - she had only thought it fair to seek a Shield of her own if Rhaenyra were able to have one. Especially one as pretty as Ser Cole.

Ser Harwin nodded his head in greeting, waiting for her instructions as he stood at attention by her door. She waved the man away, rolling her eyes at his constant worrying.

Saenyra focused on Otto - the Lord Hand looked pale and stricken, eyes unfocused as he tried to string together his words.

The truth was, Otto felt nothing like the image he portrayed to the young girl, but he hoped such a performance would make her grow to trust him.

Those who were unable to see the infatuation the Targaryen girls held for their uncle were truly blind. And Otto would be a fool not to use such a bond to his advantage.

Daemon Targaryen was a dangerous man.

With all the roles within the Keep he had taken, none had sung to him more than the tireless echoes of a title so buoyant and inflamed - the Rogue Prince.

And if Otto wanted Saenyra on his side, then the only way to assure such an alliance was to remove the only person who could change her perspective.

Perhaps this method of madness was mean and trifling, but it would work. It had to.

Otto remembers the look of anguish on Rhaenyra's face when she had heard the news, when she demanded dragons be sent to threaten the man and return what was rightfully their's. He only wished Saenyra would show a reaction so similar.

"Lord Hightower, is everything alright?" Saenyra frowned softly at the man, eyes watching him with concern.

He sighed deeply, "my Princess, I am afraid I come bearing bad news."

Though her stomach sank with dread, her heart beating frantically at all the possibilities and all the horrors that could have occurred, Saenyra steeled her spine and spoke encouragingly, "you can speak freely here."

Again, Otto found his heart tremble with softness at the young girl's kindness. Here, he could not see a shadow of a dragon in sight, simply a girl who had been placed in the nest of animals and beasts.

"It is your uncle, dear child."

Saenyra frowned in earnest now, the mere mention of her uncle bringing back the flashes of the beautiful woman who pressed herself against him as though she were laying her claim. She blinked furiously, scolding herself for such envious feelings - even if that woman had not been there, it did not change the truth that Daemon was still a married man.

Daemon had not cheated her - he had cheated his wife and himself.

"What about my uncle?"

Otto lowered his head in a show of misery, "it seems he has dared to steal the egg of Baelon."

"Why would he do such a thing?" Saenyra's lips had parted in surprise, caught off guard by her uncle's audaciousness with such an act of defiance.

"We are unsure of his motives for the time being," the lie slipped off his tongue with ease. Otto was willing to do all he could to make the girl hate Daemon, but he could not risk her acting out of turn. "But we intend to claim the egg and return it to the Keep - the ships are setting sail soon, and an army rests upon it. Ready to reclaim the egg and Dragonstone by force, if needed."

"I want to come."

Otto sighed softly, not willing to disappoint the girl but knowing he will have to. He could see the anger bubbling in her eyes, but he could also see the confusion etched in her expression.

"Your sister asked us of the very same. I fear you cannot join a feat such as this - it is far too dangerous."

"Perhaps he would listen to me."

"We can only hope, Princess," Otto smiled faintly at her determination, "but it is a risk we cannot take."

Saenyra's hope faltered, hands twisting into the soft material of her gown as she bit her lip to hold back spiteful words.

Otto took a step back, gaining her attention.

"The ships leave soon, so I must take my leave. I simply believed it was important to inform you of our plans, despite the King's disagreement on the matter."

Otto watched as the girl's eyes narrowed in disappointment - had it not been for Otto's visit to her chambers, she would have been kept in the dark on the actions of her uncle.

Her father and her sister would hide such tragic news from her without a guilty conscious.

She glanced at Otto once more as he took his leave, and he smirked at the glimmer in her eyes that shone like something akin to trust.

***

It had not only been trust that gleamed in her lavender hues, but determination.

Her father and sister thought of her as weak, of being spineless and thoughtless. But she would show them. She would show them her determination, her influence, her fire.

Dragonstone was not simply a base Daemon had chosen for its view, no - its caves and tunnels homed the largest dragons - wild and crazed.

Upon the small isle was an opportunity for something more.

***

Saenyra had changed into a set of leathers she had stuffed deep in her wardrobe - they had been a gift from a Lord in a far away land who thought her to be a dragon-rider like her sister. A stark contrast from her usual soft colours, but one she hoped she could grow used to.

Her lip quirked at the idea of riding her dragon in her billowing gowns, and she whispered a promise to herself she would try.

Her heart had always weeped with disappointment at the sight of the leathers, but she never had the heart to get rid of it. It seemed all her waiting had paid off - today, she would get a dragon.

When she had changed into her leathers, she spared a moment to glance upon the jewel resting on her hand. A hesitant smile twisted upon her lips as a speck of dread bloomed.

What would Daemon think of her when he learned she had travelled to the isle to claim a dragon? Would he think differently of her? Would he be proud? Disappointed?

She tiptoed to her chamber doors as quietly as she could, ignoring her nattering thoughts. She latched it shut, hoping Harwin would leave her to her peace and not attempt entry.

Shs slipped back to the portrait above her bed, prying it open with silent breaths before slipping into the tunnels behind. She sprinted her way down tunnels she memorised a thousand times over, finding her way to an exit.

The day was bright and early, and the Keep was buzzing. But no one would expect to see Saenyra of all people in riding gear, as she had no dragon to command.

She slipped through the sea of people with ease, making her way to the ships as she dodged the sight of curious soldiers.

Saenyra knew Otto and the Kingsguard would board the ship at the forefront, so she slinked her way onto one of the smaller ships instead.

She let out a sigh of relief to see it unoccupied for the time being, rushing below the deck to hide in the shadows behind barrels and netting.

She would stay here until they reached Dragonstone.

***

The sail to Dragonstone had been bumpy, her stomach rolling with nausea as she steadied her breaths and pretended she was at home rather than upon the sea.

She swallowed harshly, thirst clawing at her throat as she wondered how much longer it would be.

It seemed only seconds, as her head raised in surprise at the shouts that carried over the ship. They drew closer to Dragonstone now, and she could hear the men prepare to anchor the ships before they continued on foot.

Just a few moments longer.

***

Saenyra had waited until the ships had emptied and the air had struck silent. Her stomach protested as she pushed herself to her feet and her knees ached. Her throat still burned with thirst and she could feel the clawing stabs of hunger pleading with her.

Still, she knew coming by boat was better than the alternative.

She was sure Rhaenyra would find her way here, but Saenyra would be damned if she asked the girl to allow her to ride upon Syrax alongside her.

Saenyra did not want the first dragon she rode to be one that was not her own - she did not want such an experience to be tainted by the hatred and jealousy that soured her relationship to her sister.

As she hiked her way towards where she hoped she would find the entrance to the caves and tunnels, her mind fell back to the dragon she hoped to claim.

Saenyra did not want a dragon that had previously been claimed. She wanted a dragon wild and free. Just as she was.

She wanted a dragon to whom she could love and dote on, to teach not with violence but patience. She wanted a dragon that was a reflection of herself, one that would burn worlds if she asked.

When she had finally reached the mouth of the cave she was panting lightly, her eyes wide with wonder as a breathless laugh escaped her. She sprinted inside, struggling to keep her footfalls quiet so as not to fall prey to any other beast that lurked within.

She spun through the tunnels, twisting and turning but failing to find the dragon she had so desperately tried to seek.

Grey Ghost was a shy dragon, calm and quiet, preferring to spin through the skies and feast in the seas. Hidden away in plain sight much like she was.

Grey Ghost is a dragon Saenyra believed she would bond well with, love strongly and protect fiercely as he would do with her. But Grey Ghost was nowhere to be found.

Her hope of claiming a dragon began to crumble as the tunnels were silent. It seemed the only life within them was her own, and she could feel defeat sink into her bones.

Saenyra sat down in a huff, eyes closed as she rested her head against the rough and craggly surface behind her.

She didn't pay mind to how long she sat like that, thinking - dreaming, hoping.

She only hoped that Harwin had not noticed her absence. Prayed that if he had, he did not report it to the King.

She doubted Viserys would care for such a thing - perhaps he would be relieved he had one less heir to worry about. Rhaenyra and Daemon were already such a handful.

However, for all she knew, the moment her deception was brought to light, a whole new shadow of chaos would be wrought upon them - one, perhaps, even Daemon could not escape.

She was still a Princess. Even if Viserys did not hold any personal regards for the girl, he would have to act in show, lest people see him as weak.

Still, she stayed. She sat upon the solid ground and listened to the sounds of her own breaths, counting every inhale and exhale and wishing she did not have to return to the Keep - knowing when she did, she could never escape the walls that confined her.

Slowly, she began drifting off. She leaned into the comforting smell of a home she would never find - a dragon she could never have.

That was when she felt it.

So lost in the tumultuous thoughts roving through her mind, she hadn't heard the gruff breaths, hadn't felt the quaking thuds. But a rough and scaly surface brushed against her cheek, slowly as though it was almost curious.

It was then she smelt it, the stench of dragon strong and high - the cloying scent of smoke coated her tongue as the brushes became firmer. She allowed herself to hope that perhaps it was Grey Ghost. That although she couldn't find him, he found her and it was a sign.

A sign that she was meant to be a dragon-rider. That the fire of a dragon burned hot through her veins - a raging blaze instead of a waning fire.

But her hesitant eyes found the predatory gaze of a dragon so monsterous it ate its own kind. So close to her, a hair's breadth away, was the slow and steady gaze of a cantankerous beast - Cannibal.

He was an inky shade of black, scales so dark that he could meld into the night sky and would cast envy from the moon, escaping its sight.

The beast reared back, but still stayed so close. Too close.

Saenyra wanted to close her eyes, to resign herself to her fate.

She was no dragon-rider, especially not to a beast so ferocious and violent. She didn't have the strength to make him submit- didn't have the gall.

But there was a subtle glint in Cannibal's eye that made her think wreaking havoc and killing her was not on his agenda.

He inched closer, almost like he was asking a silent question.

Saenyra raised a hand, fingers trembling as she took a steadying breath - the fire of a dragon ran through her veins, the ice of a thousand winters cursed her soul.

She held her breath as the tips of her fingers brushed against Cannibal's face, so close to the edge of his mouth he could break off her arm with a single twitch.

Instead he shuddered, preening as she shuffled closer and began to sit.

Surprise bound through her body, elation colouring her features - had she tamed a dragon?

Had she claimed a bond?

There was no need to violence, no yell for obedience, no fighting and no blood. There was no sacrifice because what was meant for her had come to find her.

Saenyra's eyes welled with tears, a shaky laugh escaping her as it grew louder and steady.

Saenyra had come looking in the depths of darkness for a dragon that lived in the light, hidden amongst clouds and thriving across the seas.

But that was not the fate the Seven had assigned to her. That was not the dragon she needed.

Her dragon, her fate had come to her. Undeterred and knowing.

Her dragon had come to seek her because finally, the time was right.

Her dragon - so fierce and raging and monsterous. The fire she had been missing all her life.

***

Daemon watched Rhaenyra in amusement, barely able to hold back the smirk upon his face at the pathetic attempt to pull him into line.

Had she truly thought she could command him? Call to him?

Had she truly thought he would be soft with her? Kind and adhering?

"I'm right here, Uncle. The object of your ire - the reason you were disinherited. If you wish to be restored as heir, you'll need to kill me. So do it."

Daemon could commend the girl's bravery, perhaps even her stupidity. It was a tempting thought, truly - to end all this fuss and take her head in one quick swipe.

But he was fond of the girl, despite her growing infatuations. She was his niece - his brother's child. And to hurt her would be to hurt Viserys.

"Do not bother with such words, Rhaenyra. It will gain you no favours. You would sooner leave Dragonstone empty-handed than with my undying fidelity."

Daemon couldn't help the smirk that broke across his face as her expression fell - she had been so sure presenting herself to him, a prize upon a platter, would have made him succumb and relinquish the egg.

She was sure he would give up to her. For her.

"Uncle, you do not know what you are saying. This isn't what you want. She isn't who you want."

The words she spoke were true. But not in the way she had hoped.

"Perhaps if little Saena were here, I would be happy to continue this farce for a few moments longer," he grinned at the envious expression that crossed Rhaenyra's face, "it is a pity she is not. I believe she would have enjoyed Dragonstone."

"The Princess is safe at the Keep," Otto began, his words stern as he met Daemon's glare with one just as fierce, "where you shall be unable to find her."

Daemon gritted his teeth at the show of audaciousness, but before he could speak, a set of stumbling footfalls and a shouting voice drew their attention.

"The Princess! She is in Dragonstone!"

A handful of soldiers assigned to watch over their ships had raced up to the base, panting as they waved frantically for Otto's attention.

Rhaenyra rolled her eyes, "yes. Well, if you could not tell, I came by dragon-back. Such fan-fare is quite uneeded."

She turned back to Daemon, ready to push and prod, but the voice continued in panicked insistence.

"No! The Princess is upon the isle. She entered the tunnels before my men could stop her. We followed her in, but we fear she is lost within them."

Daemon's expression of amusement fell, his heart sinking as his stomach twisted. Tumultuous waves of rage washed over him at the realisation of who they spoke of.

Saenyra.

Saenyra was in Dragonstone. And she was lost in the tunnels, surrounded by wild dragons.

He seethed and frothed at the mouth, trembling in anger as he pulled out his sword and raised it against Otto's throat - "you told me she was at the Keep. You told me she was safe!"

Otto's own eyes had widened in surprise, shock flooding his system at the realisation the Princess must have snuck onto a ship to reach Dragonstone.

But why had she gone into the tunnels instead of following them to Daemon?

Otto stumbled over his words, almost speechless at the turn of events. It was Rhaenyra who spoke in his stead, "lower your sword, Uncle. What my sister does out of her own stupidity is no one's fault but her own."

Daemon ground his teeth in frustration, lowering his sword from Otto's throat only to throw a dangerous glare at Rhaenyra instead - "your sister is lost within the tunnels where dragons feed upon everything with a heartbeat, and you stand here and mock her? You are heartless."

Rhaenyra's face fell, her own heart now stammering with fear as she realised there was a truth to Daemon's words. She had lost her mother such a short time ago, could she truly lose her sister now, too?

"If she is hurt- if she is scared, I will kill you all. I will slaughter you all, and I will show Viserys the truth of my brutality. If there is so much as a scratch up-"

His words came to an abrupt end, halting mid-sentence at the sound of a victorious cry.

Daemon watched in fascination as a black mass emerged from the lip of a cave, climbing high into the sky as it unleashed a violent burst of green flames into the sunlit sky.

He could hear gleeful shrieks and melodic laughter from where he stood, and he could feel the ground shake as a monsterous beast rumbled from its place confined deep within the tunnels.

The violent beast flew overhead, murmurs spreading across as they all watched in fascination as the dragonless princess rode upon the most horrid beast of all and laughed.

There was a softness there, still present despite the beast she rode. One that sounded in her voice and in her laughter. One that sang in her eyes as they crinkled with joy.

Saenyra had conquered a dragon, but she had not lost herself in doing so.

Cannibal circled over Daemon and his army, and Daemon watched in amusement as Otto and his men backed up as far as they could.

Cannibal landed with a quiet thud, his rider grinning with excitement and pride exuding off of her in pretty waves. She slid from his back, scratching his neck as she murmured praises to the beast.

Daemon watched the scene unfold with soft eyes, his heart swelling with pride as he watched Saenyra fret over a vicious beast who submitted to her freely and with ease.

He took a step forward, uncaring of the watchful eyes and bated breaths of those around him.

Saenyra caught his gaze, a gasping laugh sounding from her lips as she moved to meet him halfway. But a glance over his shoulder had her stumbling to a stop.

Daemon knew who she had seen and couldn't stop the guilt that stung his throat and left a bitter taste.

"Rijes aōt, zaldrītsos (congratulations, little dragon)."

Daemon's words were gentle but hesitant. Saenyra could not find it within herself to meet his gaze.

She took a steadying breath, eyes passing over him with great difficulty as she sought the calming gaze of the Lord Hand instead.

Otto nodded to the girl as she eyed him in quiet despair - "Prince Daemon," he began, so quietly Daemon prayed Saenyra could not hear him, "has stolen the dragon egg as a gift to his heir."

Saenyra's eyes flitted back to Daemon as they welled with a betrayal she had no right to feel. And yet, from Daemon's worried gaze and guilty heart, she could not help but feel that perhaps it was not all in her mind, after all.

"His whore, Mysaria is with child. And Daemon is to take her as a second wife."

As Otto concluded his words, he could see how the girl's shoulders tensed and her spine stiffened - he hadn't expected to unveil the truth to her, but as she stared at her uncle with poorly hidden anger he found that it was probably the smartest move he had made.

Saenyra couldn't help but glance at her sister and see how her shoulders had deflated with defeat and how Rhaenyra could not meet her gaze.

Despite everything she had heard, despite the tears that pooled in her eyes and despite the hopes she had hidden deep within her heart that had caved and crumbled, she stepped forward. She closed the gap between Daemon and herself with a stifling sense of formality.

Saenyra stood before him in the image of a poised princess, a stiff smile upon her face as she searched his eyes for something.

They glinted and gleamed and grew dark under her stare, as though he was trying to force every word he could not say aloud into her mind.

"Tepagon se zaldrīzes drōmon, kepus. Let us be done with this. (Give the dragon egg, uncle)."

"Daor (no)."

His voice was quiet - his eyes pleading.

Her breath caught in her throat for a moment, her mind knowing what it was he wanted - what he needed. But her heart was too fragile to concede.

"Ivestragon nyke skoros nyke jorrāelagon naejot rȳbagon (tell me what I need to hear)."

Daemon did not care if Rhaenyra heard him, did not care if the others understood.

He would be exiled, unable to see Saenyra anymore. He knew although he could succeed in this battle, the game of politics that would follow would not work in his favour.

Too many men had sworn their allegiance to Viserys, and now his newest heir - Rhaenyra.

She gave him a strained smile in return, "I cannot upset your wife."

"Ōdrikagon zirȳla mirre ao hae, issa daorun naejot nyke (hurt her all you like, she is nothing to me)."

"And what about me?"

"Brōzagon naejot nyke (call to me)."

Such words were a promise in themselves, a claim if one wished it to be. And from the glimmering darkness in Daemon's eyes, singing with desperation and anger and a plea for understanding, Saenyra let herself reluctantly hope it was.

"Kepus, give me Baelon's egg."

"Kostilus (please)."

"Daemon."

The name came out in a quiet rush, a hushed confession.

His breath caught in his throat, a raging heat battling through his body as his heart trembled and his body singed with relief.

"Daemon," she whispered again, looking into his eyes so pleadingly, "give it to me, Daemon. Prove it to me."

Daemon was ready to kneel for her should she ask it of him. He handed the egg over readily, the fight leaving his body with the same rolling ease his name dripped off her tongue in such erotic rivulets.

As she reached out to take the egg from his grasp, he allowed his fingers to trail over her trembling hands. He rubbed his thumb over the ring she still wore, despite his misgivings, despite his harshness and despite his exile.

She wore this piece of him with pride and adoration. Such a sight made his heart sting with grief, knowing he would have to leave her behind. Knowing he had done nothing but made everything worse.

It had been amusing, yes. It had been a show of power, a show of all the cards he held. But now he knew it was almost over - the Gold Cloaks would retreat and return to King's Landing, and he would be exiled. Never to return, if Otto had it his way.

Saenyra stepped away from him, pulling her hands back as his own fell to his sides.

He sighed as though he was amused and steps closer, hand reaching for her chin as he tilted her head up to meet his warring gaze. He smiles, so gentle and so soft and so kind.

Daemon closes his eyes, placing a soft kiss upon her head and breathing in the scent of her - he would be exiled in truth now, unable to return for years if it was what his brother wished. He would only have this memory of his lips against her skin, his nose buried in the scent of her hair, his hands digging into her soft flesh.

He murmured a promise against her, his voice hushed so no one else could hear - "Nyke kessa māzigon arlī. Kesan māzigon arlī naejot ao. Se pār, kesi kipagon īlva zaldrīzoti naejot ūndegon qilōni's iksis se sȳrje. (I shall come back. I will come back to you. And then, we will ride our dragons to see who's is the best)."

Her eyes fluttered closed at his claim, "kivio? (Promise?)"

"Kivio."

She stepped back from the man, her eyes meeting his in silent mourning. She held the egg close to her chest as she made her way back to her dragon and mounted him, lips pursed as she tried to hold back her tears at the realisation she would likely never see Daemon again.

***

Saenyra returned to the Keep upon dragon-back, soaring the sky with a mourning sense of enjoyment. Perhaps she would not see Daemon again, but her ventures had gained her a dragon.

And such a gift was not one she would be ungrateful for.

Still, she was inexperienced upon dragon-back. Though her beast was adept and gifted with a masterful skill at flight, she had never soared the skies upon a dragon, let alone one so large.

It did not take long for Rhaenyra to catch up to her savage dragon, and it took even less time for her to soar past them and glare down at her with contempt flooding her gaze.

Saenyra grew worried as she drew closer to the Keep - the sky had darkened as a clouded mist settled low on to the soil. She grew anxious as she landed Cannibal on the grounds, eyes flitting across the planes in search of the Lords and Ladies, maids and knights that haunted the Keep, only to see it bare of life.

Cannibal flew off at her beckoning, never one to be tied down to a place so small but ready to find her if she were to call.

She entered the walls of the Keep, the corridors silent as she tiptoed to her room. She slipped into the closest tunnel she could find, her footsteps rushed as she made her way to her chambers.

She knew the secret of her travels would be revealed with Otto's return. Until then, she would take advantage of what she hoped to be Harwin's discretion and the King's ignorance and take a well-deserved rest.

***

It was not long until a flurry of frantic knocks sounded against her chamber doors - she sat up in a hurry, the sheets slipping off of her as all she remained in was the sheer material of her nightdress.

Saenyra stumbled out of her bed, reaching for the latch only to be faced by Alicent.

The girl looked worried, her eyes full of sadness as she frowned at Saenyra softly.

"The King is asking for your attendance at the Counsel, this evening."

Her brows furrowed in confusion, "Father has never asked for my presence at his meetings. Did something happen?"

Had Daemon acted out of turn once again? Had he returned to the Keep despite his exile? Has her father truly grown so angry by her travels outside the Keep?

She was unsure, and unwilling to seek answers to such questions.

"You must come at once, Princess. I fear I am not at liberty to answer your queries."

Saenyra nodded in ascent, understanding Alicent coming to retrieve her may have been a leniency on behalf of her father as well as a well-devised ploy.

She turned back to grab a dressing robe, wrapping it tightly over her bodice as she nodded for Alicent to lead the way. Alicent conceded with one last hesitant glance at the girl.

When they had reached the hall where her father held his Counsel meetings, the doors parted to reveal a truly formidable sight.

Upon his seat, though weakened by his ailings, Viserys was seething - frothing at the mouth as a well-groomed Lord stood beside him with a predatory grin.

It had taken Saenyra only a glance at Rhaenyra's proud face and Otto's sorrowful expression to learn what truth came to light.

Her lips parted, an apology sitting upon the tip of her tongue before her father's brash voice cut off her musings - "here we have her," a dragon's rage pooled in his veins, "my youngest daughter."

"Father..."

She was unsure of what she could have said - the placative words she could have spoken. But Viserys paid her no mind.

"Princess Saenyra is to be your wife, Lord Byrch." Viserys' eyes met his daughters, sharp and unforgiving as he recalled the conversations Rhaenyra whispered in his ears that took place between his youngest daughter and his devious brother - "you are to wed and take my daughter to your lands where she will swell with your children and make me a happy grandsire."

Her eyes burned as his words echoed in her mind, heart sinking in betrayal as she glanced towards Rhaenyra who spoke with a smug tone, "congratulations, dear sister."

Saenyra could hear no more talk of the betrayal that had just taken place, could no longer restrain her cries or hold back her tears.

As the Lord Byrch stepped closer to his awaiting bride, the girl stumbled back as she fled from the room in a flood of emotions.

Viserys' boisterous laughs could be heard echoing through the Keep, "she is but a shy girl, Byrch. Take no offence, you shall get your bride. That I promise."

***

Saenyra did not leave her chamber for several days - taking to dining within the walls of her room where she was safe and away from her traitorous sister and looming husband-to-be.

In those days, it was only Otto whom she allowed to seek her audience; even Harwin, now her Shield and Commander of the Gold Cloaks, barely caught a glimpse of the girl when he would assign his men to keep watch over her.

The man would whisper his disapprovals of the King's decision, acting wary of listening ears and speaking in hushed anger. He would weave tales of her bethrothed's violent nature and greedy hands, of his narrow mind and stubborn heart.

He had laughed as he suggested that the death of her betrothed may be her only saving grace - as though such a proposition was preposterous and only made in jest.

Otto had ingrained upon her an expectation for a horrid future - unloved and hurt and bred like an animal.

That was the life Viserys had chosen for her, and such a realisation wrought her soul with anger and agony. She had known Rhaenyra was the favourite, but to cast Saenyra aside in such a manner made her feel truly unworthy in his eyes.

Perhaps this was why - angered by her father's aversion and terrified by Otto's quiet truths - she had found herself in such a position.

Otto had encouraged the girl to escape the confines of her room, to walk along the corridors of the Keep and, at the very least, find enjoyment in the activities she used to before.

She had agreed, reluctantly. And that very night, she left her rooms through the tunnel, unwilling to be trailed by soldiers that belonged to both Harwin and Daemon.

She found herself in the library, fingers skimming across the spine of large tomes and story books. Her touch was light and airy, her mind quiet in the comfort of the night sky.

But the sound of footfalls drawing closer had her grow keenly wary of her surroundings.

She turned in anticipation, hand falling to her side as she came face-to-face with the man she had been avoiding all this time.

Oh, how the needy and desperate whispers of her mind grew louder wishing it was Daemon she saw.

Instead, in front of her stood the slim and staggering figure of Lord Byrch. There was a grim smirk upon his lips, his voice hushed as he whispered, "my little bride. Oh, how I have been searching for you in all the crevices in the Keep."

She smiled stiffly, "my Lord."

She stepped back, nodding to be polite as she searched for a way around the man and to the door.

There was no escape.

He stepped closer, hands clamping around her waist as he pulled her towards him - so close she could smell the scent of strong ale permeating from his lips.

The man was shameless and crude, stuffing his face into the hollow of her throat as he took deep breaths and groaned roughly at her sweet scent.

Her hands came to push against his shoulders, but the man did not relent. He stumbled forward so he could press her against a table and lave at the delicate skin of her neck.

He hummed at the taste of her, groaning in her ear in a fervent breath - "I cannot wait to make you my bride and fuck you. I cannot wait to fill you with my children and make sure you never leave my bed without my cum dripping from that sweet cunt of your's."

She cried out in disgust, her hands reaching back to brace herself against the table as he grew hurried and frantic. He began to pull up the fabric of her dress, her heart sinking in dread as her eyes stung with tears.

Her hands reached for something, grasping at anything she could use to scare this monster away.

Her fingers wrapped around a thin and delicate item, and it only took a glance back to see the silver sheen of a letter opener held tight in her grasp.

It was at the sight of such a lacklustre weapon hope began to bubble in the pit of her stomach as her breath was stolen from her in preparation of such a feat - an opportunity.

Her heart sung with rage as a guttural cry escaped her, and the weapon in her hand found its place in his shoulder. The foul beast of a man reared back, and as he cried out in agony, she could hear a fierce cry shatter through the quiet of the night as though it shared in her pain and agony - Cannibal.

At the sound of his angered roars, she felt the dragon within her come to life, a disastrous blaze flooding through her as rage took over fear.

Saenyra was angry.

So angry.

Angry at Daemon. At her sister. At her father. And this pathetic excuse of a man who thought himself worthy of marrying her. Of touching her.

With a battle cry, she ripped the blade from his flesh, throwing herself at him and knocking him to the ground as her body moved with a mind of its own. She wailed upon the man as her screams gave way to mourning cries and the aches of a thousand days washed upon her and all the agony she felt, all the grief, was poured into a deserving beast.

Hands wrapped around her body, her dress tainted red as blood seeped deep into her clothes and burned her skin with feral delight. She fought against the touch, reaching forward after her prey as her mind went mad with hunger.

The arms only held her tighter, wrenching the blade from her grasp and casting it aside as they turned her towards a solid chest and hushed quietly in her ears.

Her breaths came back to her in quiet huffs, her racing heart settled as it was finally quiet once again.

"Princess," Saenyra stiffened at the voice, eyes glancing up to meet the determined gaze of the Shield she had escaped for far too long.

Harwin met her gaze, determination giving way to a kind softness as he frowned softly at the blood splattered against the girl's face. His hands reached up to her face, rubbing against the wet liquid and smearing it across her cheeks, making her seem like a blushing bride who awaited eagerly for her husband's embrace.

But Lord Byrch was dead.

His body mutilated, his face unrecognisable.

Harwin felt his own heart race in anger at the thought that the Princess would have been hurt whilst under his charge, his protection.

He gritted his teeth as he strained his mind for a plan - "I accompanied you to the library," he began, his voice lowered and his words fast as his eyes darted towards the door, hoping it would be his Gold Cloaks who arrived first and not the Kingsguards.

"Then Lord Byrch came and asked for a listening ear - which you granted him. He spoke of treasonous plans after your wedding, and when you refused, he grew mad. So I killed him."

She eyed the soldier in fascination, wondering why he would lie on her behalf about a deed so grave.

"I killed him. Did you hear me, Princess?"

She held her breath as she nodded, confusion still clouding her eyes.

"Repeat it back to me."

She began in a whisper, hands tightening around his arms as she continued, "you killed him. You killed him because he planned to act against my father. He was going to hurt me, so you killed him."

"Good. Good, you're doing so well. Leave this to me, I shall handle this."

"Harwin," her voice shook as she protested such a thing, tears tracking down her face as her hands trembled at the realisation of what she had done.

Saenyra had killed a Lord. She had murdered her intended husband.

But he had deserved it.

Still, she had taken a life.

"I am your sworn Shield. When I took such a position, I vowed to protect you with every inch of life I have within me. Allow me to do my duty, Princess. Allow me to protect you."

Saenyra threw her arms around his neck, heaving sobs against him as he held her tight and turned her away from the gruesome scene she had created.

Otto had found them in such a position only moments later, eyes growing dark with understanding as he realised what must have occured.

It was safe to say Harwin escaped with such a deed unpunished, and Saenyra grew to trust her Shield just as she grew to trust Otto.

Her heart grew discontent to sit with her sister and listen to her father's demands, but even her disheartened feelings towards them would not stop the fact her father sought another husband for the girl to wed.

Saenyra could only hope he failed in such a mission of his.

Saenyra could only hope Daemon would return before Viserys succeeded in his ventures, and Rhaenyra celebrated her departure.

Thank you to everyone who enaged with this series, I cannot wait to write more chapters!!

Taglist: @marihoneywk @ahristata @gracielikegrapes @luanasrta @pet1t3 @serving-targaryen-realness @tojigirl @do-it-for-kicks @aprosiacperson @moongirl27 @xcharlottemikaelsonx @bogbutteronmycroissant

[jabberwondia]

【the next step】 【part 2】 RIDDLE x READER, NSFW

Part 1 is here.

The proverbial "next time".

Riddle Rosehearts x Female Reader, 18+. Fluff, sexual intimacy (explicit), consensual.

Worrying about failing a test, botching that one high note at the recital, or stammering throughout the graduation speech are all examples of performance anxiety. The thought of failing and the looming overshadow it casts on the far-off dream of success – to a lot of people, it can be paralyzing. To counter it, you dwell on all the possibilities before that something can even come to pass, methodically going through worst-case scenarios in your head; at the time, they all seem more like prophecies.

Contrary to what his occasionally fiery mood swings might suggest, Riddle Rosehearts was a fairly confident and composed person, and never suffered from nerves before a test, recital or speech. The roots of his self-assurance were practice, diligence and rules. No test would ever be scary if you had revised hard enough, no note unreachable if practiced frequently enough, and no speech impossible if rehearsed enough. Rules provided a frame which allowed little flexibility, which meant more provable, safe results.

This, however, was different. There was no way to prepare for it. Any guides on the subject would generally say, ‘Let it flow’, and honestly that’s what he believed he had done -or at least tried to do- last time, when you were catching your breath, spread on top of his lap. He had purposefully, repeatedly, attempted to forget all about it – but every time his phone buzzed with one of your messages, he was sorely reminded of everything he did, and specially of what he didn’t do.

‘Would it be so bad if it were... planned?’ he pondered. But it’s not like those words would ever leave his mouth, and he truly did care about you, so he was not about to insult your integrity by suggesting something as unrefined as “Hey baby, let’s get it on”.

Sigh. It hardly seemed like the topic you could trust friends with, either. “What should I do?” he wanted to ask, but the fear of getting humiliated in return was too real. Or at least, it was inside Riddle’s head, as however certain he could be in social situations, one of his most recurring nightmares included screwing up an easy spell, getting laughed at, then yelled at by his mother, and, finally, falling through the void (in that order).

“Next time,” he had told Floyd. Why did he do that? Whatever the hell did that mean? Not unlike enlisting New Year resolutions and telling everyone you started working out – in a way, the contract behind your words binds you to turn them into action. Riddle really wish he hadn’t, and to be fair, Floyd hadn’t even asked about it since – but the thought alone was eating away at him.

Alone in his room, he had, at long last, drafted up the end-all, be-all of text-based conversation.

Riddle Rosehearts: “Hello! 🌹 What are you doing for the break? I’ll pass on going home this time, I think. We can expect an exceptionally hot summer this year, and I’m worried about the hedgehogs.”

And then, greatly contingent on your answer, but – hopefully – the next sentence would be:

“If you’re free sometime, would you like to stay the night?”

‘Stay the night’ was a much more suitable euphemism for what he wanted to say. It was short, and sweet, and left the possibility of nothing happening, which was important. The main problem with it is that it broke quite a few rules, but most notoriously: the rules that stated students from other schools were not allowed inside the dorms past curfew, and that non-alumni needed a special permission to enter in the first place. Well, uh, and also the fact that he was trying to bring a girl to sleepover to an all-boys school. After one law had been violated, the rest of transgressions just seemed like silly, collateral damage. This is why he was a stickler for codes and regulations – being unyielding did, in fact, protect the system from falling apart all at once.

The hedgehog excuse also worked well, and even his mother had believed it and granted him permission to stay all summer on campus.

The first text is an easy one to send. If, for any reason, Riddle feels like he needs to call the whole thing off, he can just invite you to a Tea Party, or suggest a date in the park. The break begins next weekend, and it’s a perfect time because the school will be mostly empty and free of prying eyes. And if you are too busy to catch up, spending a quiet summer caring for the hedgehogs doesn’t sound too bad either.

Y/N: “oh hey! 😊 poor darlings🦔 it’s good they have a very kind caretaker💓 yeah, I read somewhere we were reaching record temperatures. thankfully it’s not so bad inside our dorm. i’ll go home, but only from the second week onwards”

Which leaves a week in between to... to...

Riddle opens up his drafts once again. All he has to do is copy, paste and hope for the best. But as he’s proof-reading, it occurs to him that maybe “sleepover” is better than “stay the night” – which one sounds more casual? Ugh, his hands are starting to feel icy cold and unresponsive. The weight on his chest is getting bigger.

Y/N: “we should meet up before I leave! 😊 i can help take care of the hedgehogs if you need a hand?"

Oh my Queen. A second, continuous text from you was not in the original plan. So now what? Well, he could still brave through and –ahem– suggest his suggestion. Hell, if he was so paralyzed at a text, there’s no way he could actually sleep with you, even if you did come over.

Riddle does not want you to help take care of the hedgehogs. Or rather, that is so trivial right now, that he wishes you could forget about it, and words to be undone.

Riddle Rosehearts: “I couldn’t possibly ask that! Hedgehogs are nocturnal, so you’d have to come in pretty late.”

Riddle is quick to type and send, but then gasps when he realizes the meaning. It can be taken two ways: either that he wants you to come in late, ergo, wants to get in your pants and is cowardly suggesting it; or he does not want you anywhere near the dorm at night, which, eh, kind of resets all the progress made in this conversation.

Y/N: “oh, right 😊 the school has rules against that, lol”

It’s getting more and more impossible to recover from this, like a rowing boat trying to maneuver through a river of chocolate fudge.

The draft that is waiting in his copy clipboard now makes no sense. “If you’re free sometime, would you like to stay the night?” is no longer applicable to this flow of the conversation. But he needs to find a way around it, or else it’s back to square one.

Riddle takes a very, very deep breath. Face red, fingers trembling, he manages to write:

Riddle Rosehearts: “Actually, don’t worry about the hedgehogs. It takes time to build trust with them anyways. But on that note, would you like to stay over sometime? Feel free to say no.”

That last part sounds incredibly weak and lacking in courage. He erases it and types it again a couple of times until deciding in favor of leaving it as-is – the fact that you don’t feel pressured is, after all, of utmost importance to him.

And yeah, “stay over” sounds better than sleeping or staying the night, so let’s stick to that.

When the message pops on your side of the screen, your sight paces back and forth at least twenty times, doubting the verity of your own eyes or reading comprehension. After last time, and how nonchalantly it had ended, you thought for sure that Riddle had been distancing himself from you, and that you had crossed a boundary that was hard to backtrack from. That is exactly why, truth be told, you were relieved when he initiated casual conversation as if nothing had happened. The struggle was mixing all these pure, affectionate, innocent emotions he made you feel with the raw Eros of whatever last study session was, and it had left you more confused than ever.

But hey, you tell yourself. Nothing needs to happen. I can just sleep. We can cuddle, and that’s it.

It seems you are taking all too long to answer, because his chat box pops up again.

Riddle Rosehearts: “I want to see you.”

Riddle was really good in situations reigned by protocol. He was the best social dancer you’d ever seen, and the way he’d guided you while waltzing through an interscholastic dance had been dreamlike. He’d open doors for you and escort you to your school gates; he was always eager to send over a study guide or offer some academic advice. But “I want to see you” and “I miss you” were words rarely uttered.

Filled with a newfound courage, you text back:

Y/N: “i'd love to! is friday ok? 😊”

Getting into Heartslabyul is always a challenge. You’d need to either come over during the daytime and then purposefully miss curfew, or you’d have to find a way to sneak in just before the gates are closed for the night. As a housewarden from a rival school, your face is somewhat known within the Night Raven College students, and while it’s not exactly a secret that you’re dating the Heartslabyul sovereign, you’d rather if people did not know you were planning on staying the night, for the Seven’s sakes!

If this were an eventful holiday, like Halloween celebrations or a friendly Spelldrive tournament, inter-school visits were more easily forgivable. There were plenty of ways to score a guest pass and walk around freely. But an outsider going around the dorm at night, on a normal school day? Now, that is just fishy.

You devised a plan of which the success depended on how fast Riddle could find you and then rush to his room. And you know he hated running in the hallways.

Your Signature Spell, “Drink Me”, as tongue-in-cheek as it sounded, allowed you to change an object or person in size for a very small period of time. Theoretically, if this was used on yourself and your clothes, you could become hedgehog-sized in seconds. And then, all would Riddle need to do is transport you in his shirt pocket. Simple enough, right?

As you head through the motions of the plan, you realize how utterly embarrassing it is. First, you would need to decide on a set of coordinates where Riddle would find your miniaturized self. He needs to pick you up, basically engulfing you with both hands. You are then to fit inside his pocket, and this meant that his heartbeat would sound like thunderstorms in the summer sky (a by-product of you being so small). And because you’d turn back in 5 minutes, he needs to rush to his room and take you out of the pocket, lest you grow back to normal and rip his prized uniform shirt apart.

There could be some repercussions. Usually, your Signature Spell required of a catalyst – you would use homemade soda for the shrinking spell and cookies for the enlarging spell – so as to keep the side effects at bay, and make the desired transformation last longer (a maximum of an hour). Very rarely you’d cast them directly from your pen to the object in question, unless you wanted or needed consequences to be more immediate and short-lived. In this case, staying small for a whole hour was not exactly the most enticing of options, and gorging on enlarging cookies while the effects of the fizzy shrinking drink hadn’t yet subsided always resulted in nausea, an upset stomach and a fever (you know – you’ve tried before). So, the only viable option was cast and run: a plan problematic in and of itself, but the only chance you had to access the property unnoticed. Ah, if only Chen’ya could teach you how to disappear at will.

When you suggested all of this over the phone, Riddle was flabbergasted. It was hard to tell which is more mortifying – carrying you around like a portable magic pen, or having you enter the dorm life-size and risk a student seeing you enter his room at night.

Eventually, after much persuasion, he had agreed to meet you at the outskirts of the Heartslabyul forest, which was exactly five minutes away from his quarters.

It’s the first meeting since the, uh, lap-sitting incident, and you are both quite self-conscious still. You wave and smile at his approaching figure, but he hurriedly hushes, “Quick! Before anyone sees you.”

Pointing a shaky pen to your chest, you take a deep breath. “Here goes. Drink Me!”

If the feeling could be compared to anything, you’d say it kind of reminds you of a balloon deflating – air gushing out, spiraling as it swirls until it reaches the floor. A kaleidoscope in which the senses become filled all at once, as the world around you is so big, and you’re now so small. The only good part is that, because your height and weight also decrease in proportion, having a parasol ready allows you to float tenderly for the last couple of inches, and the fall is never too abrupt.

Riddle is now... huge. I mean, wow there, Y/N, witty observation. But he really is, and even the act of him crouching to get closer to you shakes the whole ground like an earthquake. He stares at you, two fingers pressed on his lips, pondering if he should lift you up by the collar... but no, no, that’s too ungracious.

So, he offers the palm of his hand. You know that even if you talked at this size, your tiny micro lungs are not enough to produce enough sound to reach him properly, so you keep quiet and climb up his thumb.

When Riddle brings you up to the height of his pocket, it’s like that one Twisneyland attraction that you rode together once, the scary one with the elevator which you had hated with every fiber of your heart as you held on to your boyfriend’s arm screaming – and he wasn’t too keen on thrill rides, either, but had tried to put on a brave face for your sake.

���Are you alright?” he beckons, in a normal tone for him, but it’s like a cacophony ripping apart at your miniature eardrums. You put your hands over your ears. “—sorry! So sorry,” he reduces his voice to a whisper.

Plopping yourself into the pocket, you fall all the way in, roughly reaching the middle while standing straight. You are way smaller than hedgehog size at this point, comparable to a miniature doll of only a few centimeters high. “Hang in there,” he says.

By the sudden swaying, like a seism about to tear the face of the Earth, you assume that Riddle has set course for his room. The countdown starts.

As luck would have it, everyone and their mother is out to get the Headwarden today. He gets stopped at least thrice, mostly about silly stuff such as the shipment for flamingo food or the rundown for the next unbirthday party. It’s impressive how many students are still in the dorm, really –don’t these people have anything else better to do?– their voices are so loud you can barely make out the conversations, instead just catching the keywords. You have both hands pressed against your ears, eyes closed, trying to avoid sensory overload. At least this goes to show there is no way you could have gotten into Heartslabyul unnoticed if you were your proper size.

After many unwanted interruptions, time was running out for the both of you. The de-transformation would start coming in little bursts, where you’d feel your body a little bigger each time. The transpired, stuffy white fabric of that pocket was sure starting to feel a little tight, and now you could almost peek over the hem on your tiptoes.

“Riddle!” is your hurried plead, but he’s going as fast as humanly possible, as fast as anyone can go while still avoiding attention.

When he’s at the doorstep, it feels the seams won’t hold any longer. To the best of your ability, you lift yourself using your arms, trying to squeeze up and out. He fumbles with the key, breath visibly agitated, until he remembers he can just use magic, and can finally, triumphantly, open the door and slam it shut.

“Y/N!” he beckons, in a panic, looking for you to jump on his palm again so he can plop you onto the ground.

“No time! Throw me on the bed!” you squeak, unsure of how much of your speech is currently intelligible. Riddle catches the gist of it, and grabs you by the first thing he can pinch, which is the hem of your skirt, as you’re now dangling outside his pocket, barely not small enough to fit back in.

And next thing you know, he is flinging you like a Spelldrive disk towards his bed; with a loud “poof”, you transform mid-air and land headfirst, full size, cartwheeling on his mattress. Your skirt is flung open, you’ve lost both shoes somewhere along the way, you’re all tangled in on yourself, but at least you are finally safe, and neither Riddle’s shirt nor reputation have been ruined.

Adjusting your sitting position, you first make sure all parts have grown back to size. After all, it’s not unheard of for the effect to last longer on some objects or body parts than others. A quick check assures you that you’re back to normal – all over, that is. You turn to Riddle, who is watching you from the edge of the bed, hand over his mouth, his expression between bemusement and bewilderment.

A stifled laugh that you can’t seem to contain breaks the silence, and it’s like springing open a can of worms, because the redhead giggles a little, too, and then the whole situation becomes too funny to hold it in. Soon he’s laughing tears out of his eyes, unable to speak in full sentences.

“You — you really became pocket size. Right here! You were right here!” He gasps for air between chuckles, pointing at his chest pocket. “I can’t believe... really can’t... ahaha!”

“Hehe, that was some adventure,” you agree. And it’s not like you’re not laughing yourself, but your turn to your boyfriend, and the sight of him fills your chest with a strange warmth, so much that it quiets your laughter. You’d rarely ever seen such a playful, childlike expression; he keeps cry-laughing uncontrollably, wiping his eyes and clutching at his stomach; a hint of relaxation in his ever-so-stiff posture.

His giggle fit starts settling down, and then it dawns on you.

“Oh, no, we need to go through this exact same process tomorrow!” you say, pinching the bridge of your nose.

Tomorrow. He liked the sound of that. It made the fact that you’re staying over more official.

“We’ll think of something by then,” he states.

The rush to close the door and prop you out of the pocket as fast as possible meant that the room was still dim. Because you had landed on his bed, there you were sitting upright in its dead center; suddenly feeling a rush of pink on your cheeks, as the whole Drink Me situation had acted as a deterrent to the actual elephant in the room: the fact that you were here to sleep over and that you had both been so nervous up until that point.

Riddle’s bleary eyes flicker in the twilight, still a soft smile on his lips.

“That was nice,” you grin. “It’d been a while since I last saw you laugh.”

“Oh, come now. Am I really that serious all the time?”

You struggle to find the words. “It’s like... like you’re always worried about something. Not that I blame you—"

“Huh,” he retorts before you can continue. “Well, even I can find something that tickles my funny bone, every now and then.”

He’s now frowning and pouting and just... standing there, as if still hesitant to join you in bed. After all, Riddle was quick to notice that you had made no effort to stand up, and now is wondering what the next step is. It’s not like he had planned any activities for you to do that night – maybe watching a movie on your phones? ...playing card games? Or just go straight to sleep? In the end, he could decide on none and the Day Of came to happen before he could devise a plan, something he dreaded from the bottom of his heart. His whole life was set in rules, set in stone tablets, and now he had to somehow improvise.

“I’m not worried,” he says, pensive, then adds: “Not when I’m with you, at least.”

“Liar,” you accuse him, to which he looks rather offended, albeit playfully so. “By now, you’re probably thinking, ‘What’s comes next?’ — well, aren’t you?”

His expression gives him away immediately. For such a well-postured, well-mannered person, Riddle tends to be a bit transparent. “H-how did you –”

“—it’s because I’m thinking the same thing, too,” you admit. “This is hard, isn’t it?”

It’s not a question. In no unclear terms, last time you’d met had been the very first instance of feeling each other’s bodies, and along came the realization that you are dating and it’s perfectly okay for you to do so. And now you’re subconsciously running your fingers through his velvety red, quilted duvet; and Riddle is still paralyzed a few steps away from the bed. You are not the boldest person out there; and he seems to be bold for anything except for this.

“Agreed,” he muses. Again, he’s like on the outside looking in – it’s that anxious feeling that never goes away, back to the little boy and the cakes he’d never eat.

“This is so awkward to say out loud,” you muster up some courage. “But I’ll try.”

“—yes?”

“I don’t care what we do today. I get to be with you, and that’s enough.”

...oh. Riddle can feel his heart doing a summersault. Being filled to the brim with love like this is something he is not accustomed to. It’s like he’s back to your warm embrace and the rhythmic breathing of your clothed chest, like digging his fingers in your back again, and feeling you return the squeeze. Every single waking moment, and hell, even while sleeping, he goes back to that evening. But he struggles to return your words, hesitant and meditative, staring at the floor.

“Riddle?”

“—yes?”

“Are you okay?”

He’s not. He’s fed up with himself. Scared of this new situation to which he doesn’t have a manual for. Terrified of underperforming and disheartening you.

“Of course,” he lies through his teeth. You are still fully clothed, so all he can see are your knees and calves, from where the skirt of your uniform ends and the socks begin. It’s not remotely erotic at all, yet he’s burning all over. You notice his eyes traveling up and down, trying to take the sight of you in.

You can’t be sure, but deep inside, you intuited that if you both feel the same, then he wants it as much as you do. But then again, pressuring your boyfriend is something you would never, ever venture to do – like a hedgehog himself, he was always quick to spike up to prevent you from poking at his vulnerability. He’d get angry or annoyed or sulky, only to quickly apologize later. So, you are not brave enough to ask, but the least you can do is initiate the scene – like the character that utters the first lines in a play, setting the mood and the proceeds in motion.

Hands, your own, travel to the elastic on your socks, as you slide them off slowly, one by one. Your feet get adjusted to the soft duvet, now feeling it on your bare skin, and you can’t help but notice how utterly cold your toes are – might be from the air conditioning, might be from the nerves. Riddle gasps audibly and clutches at his chest.

You look up at him, as he’s still standing immobilized in his spot. Fine. You’ll venture one more step past the proverbial line of his defenses, then.

Not unlike his, your school uniform consists of a white shirt with a tie or ribbon, at the student’s free choice of whichever. The ribbon on your neck is striped light blue and white, with a small coat of arms applique that depicts a teacup floating in a bottle full of tears. With a quick tug, you undo it, then the first button of your collar, all while keeping eye contact with your boyfriend – it feels like the sound of your own heartbeat is going to deafen you at this point.

Riddle takes a step in your direction, fully flushed, although you can barely tell through the room submerged in the summer dusk. But he stops just by the edge of the bed, frozen again. His is quite the big mattress, and he will need to crawl to you if he wants to reach you. Close, yet so far.

You press your lips together, at the attempt to regain some moisture: your mouth feels dry and trembling all over. Even so, you use the last bit of courage to undo one more button – completely innocuous, as this barely only reveals your collarbone.

“Stop,” he beckons, scaring you for a second. Seeming so desperate, filled with regret. “Don’t.”

“Oh.” Maybe it had been too much? You dread having pushed the Heartslabyul warden too far. “I’m sorry—”

“—no.” He takes a deep breath. “I mean, let me do it.”

Riddle climbs into the bed, knee first. His hand is reaching for your face, slate grey eyes full of adoration, and in turn, you unbalance him by pulling at both his arms, so he stumbles on top of you. Bumping heads at the fall, now faces only an inch away.

“Riddle—”

“—shh. Quit staring.”

But you’re not really, as your eyelids are drooping over, lost in the moment. It doesn’t matter, though. It’s so like him to want to have the last word.

As usual, it’s a peck on the lips, albeit a bit longer and hungrier; he then kisses your cheek, and now the question is what comes next and how the familiar pattern will be broken. To your surprise, you feel two nibbles on your neck, just below your jaw at first and then close to your throat. One leg has snuck in between yours, pressing slightly, the weight of his bony hips digging into your thigh.

He’s always fixing other students’ uniforms, so maybe that’s where it comes from, but he has unexpected skill in unbuttoning your shirt all the way through. But he’s taking it slow and steady, because every single new flash of skin is just killing him on the inside, building up fire within.

Pushing up with one arm, he uses the other to take your hand and give it a kiss, then a tug as he prods you to turn around, softly undressing one sleeve, and reaching for the clasp of your brassiere. Is this too sudden? He’s filled with worry, but push comes to shove, and his instincts urge him to keep going. He needs both hands to do this, causing him to promptly level forward, his mouth caressing your naked shoulder plates. And with one quick snap, you’re out of your bra, though it still lingers lazily on top of your breasts, as you adjust on your back once more.

Riddle realizes – he can almost peek – y-you’re half-naked, writhing beneath him, and –

“—hey,” you call softly, smiling with a tint of self-consciousness as you reach a hand for his cheek. “C-can I...?”

Can I take your clothes off, too? – is what you mean to say, but the words can’t seem to leave your mouth. Curses. Leaving the question unasked, you tug at his striped necktie, and his fingers follow yours, together undoing his shirt buttons all the way to his waist. He’s using a white, paper-thin t-shirt underneath, so you can make the shape of his nipples through it. More lightly clothed than ever, the sudden rush of shame gets the best out of you, and your gut reaction is to pull him into a full embrace, arms clasped around his neck.

Riddle stops for a moment, melting into your hold. You cannot see eye to eye right now, but you can clearly hear each other’s heartbeat. After a moment of hesitation, he kisses you again. It’s sloppy and uncharacteristic of him, but he wants to eat you whole and has no way of hiding it. Uncertain, his hand travels down your neck, feeling your collarbone, and hovering for a few instants where your bra is – unbound, it is no more than a decoration on top of your chest, and he pushes it aside.

“Ah,” he exclaims, almost unwillingly. Your breasts are oscillating up and down with your breathing, your lips are swollen and dyed a madder red, and you just look so beautiful.

“Now you quit staring,” you snap back.

“Hah,” he laughs raspingly. “Who do you think you’re talking to? You’ve got some nerve.”

You smile so wide your cheeks hurt, glad that he’s finally back to his normal self, setting aside all the anxiety and worry. Well, mostly. Of course, some worries are still in the way, but they continue melting as the heat rises – it’s impossible not to give into the moment and fondle your breasts. You let out a little yelp.

“Ah – does it hurt?” he frowns, worried, unable to gauge your reaction. Sure, he made a point to read a few erotic novels in an attempt to prepare for what should be expected for this situation –ugh, perish the thought of anyone finding those hidden at the bottom of his drawer– but truth be told, he still had no idea how rough or how gentle he should be.

“No,” you assured. “It feels good.”

“Show me where.”

At his request, you guide his hand with yours, back to your chest; and strengthen your grip, instructing him to squeeze ever so slightly. His leg, or rather, his knee presses against you, separating your legs further apart, sending a wave of electricity throughout your body. The goddamned skirt is still in the way, but you can’t muster up enough lucidity to concentrate and remove it, moaning and twitching below him.

Riddle must have read your mind, because he shifts his hands to the zipper on your skirt instead, and his mouth starts moving down and away from your neck. Your first reflex –completely involuntary, mind you– is to cross your arms and cover up your breasts, as if it made any difference at this point. His eyes move up to yours, worried again.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No!” –well, now you’re making less sense than the Queen’s Twinkle Twinkle Little Bat poem– “It’s just... ah...”

He understands. Neither of you want it to end, and yet moving forward is just as scary. Before this, when you first started dating, he used to be able to listen to his inside voice when he kissed you. Or rather, he was forced to listen to it, by his own brain – like a switch you can’t turn off, he’d count the number of kisses and always follow the same pattern. His head was constantly yapping at him, keeping track of time so as to not be late for the 5 PM tea, or telling him to compulsively fix your uniform. But since he had climbed on top of you ten minutes earlier, he has not heard his inner voice, not even once. He could not keep count of how many kisses and nibbles he’d placed all over your collarbone, shoulders, inner elbows and wrists; softly motioning you to let go and uncross your arms. And the sheer fact of losing control was terrifying, yet it felt so good.

That being said, when faced with your bare chest, and the zipper on your skirt lowered but still not removed, Riddle feels a flash of clarity and stops dead on his tracks. There she is, the girl he loves, half-dressed, gorgeous, breasts perking up, but there is one thing that doesn’t quite feel right.

“Come here.” He props you up, helping you sit. He moves the hair off your face and pats your head. “I’ll– I’ll take off the rest of my clothes, too.”

It’s not as embarrassing if it’s the two of you, is his reasoning. And it was important for him that this wasn’t one-sided.

“—you wha– you will?” Not at your brightest nor most eloquent, you’re taken aback by his sudden assertiveness, again crossing your arms in front of your chest. He’s halfway through the zipper of his black school pants when he stops to look at you, face fully flushed.

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” he mumbles guiltily, his delivery harshly contrasting with his words. “You know I hate that.” Feigning authority and playful anger, part of him is trying to be a tease, yet still unsure how.

A giggle escapes your lips. “Shame you’re not wearing the dorm uniform today.”

“—ah.” He notices in that same moment. Had he been so nervous he completely mixed up his clothes today? As the last layers were coming off and he was sitting there in his underwear, he realized it didn’t matter.

“Wait, what is it about the dorm uniform?”

“Heh. Just – the heels,” you blurt out. “They’re kind of... –ah, I’m not gonna say it.”

The idle talk is not important. All you can focus on is how his porcelain skin contrasts with the crimson quilting, and he’s blushing head to toe, like a white rose poorly stained with red paint. Actually, you meant to say the heels turned you on (come on, admit it, just a little?), but halfway through the sentence you noticed you could not be any more aroused, and then he fell on top of you again, and your head emptied completely of thoughts. His hand now presses between your legs, and you wonder where your skirt went – it had been on you just a second before, right?

“Riddle,” you gasp, knowing the fabric of your underwear is betraying you and giving away how wet you are. You have no doubt he can feel it too. And he wishes you wouldn’t call his name, not like that – do you have any idea what you’re doing to him? His fingers are caressing you softly, and it truly feels like you might burst even though you’re just getting started. His face is close to yours, jaw shivering in a cold sweat, even though it feels like there must be a hundred degrees in the darkness of the room. And while he’s helping your orgasm build up, thumb toying with you gently, he can’t help but wonder if your skin feels just as good to the direct touch as it feels through your panties, and how is it that even the parts of you he never knew are all so perfect. It seems slightly unfair, he muses, that you could be this flawless without even trying – but then you wince a little, possibly lost in pleasure, and Riddle starts worrying again.

“Are you okay?” his words feel moist close to your ear.

“Hm-mm.”

“Relax your arms.”

And the second you do, he moves back down again, slobbering kisses all over your neck and chest. While seemingly rawer and more animal than ever, he’s still attentively measuring your reactions, and finds you gasp the loudest when he sucks on your breasts. So, he teases them for a while, circling slowly with his tongue, then softly and toothlessly pinching the stiff center with his lips; he repeats from left breast to right, slowly, deliberately, back and forth, with a sort of rhythmic cadence. Focus, Riddle reminds himself, as his own erection is throbbing painfully. But he’s determined to devote to you first and foremost.

“May I–”

“Yes. Please,” you beg, not even sure what you are agreeing to, but realizing it might as well not matter anymore.

Struggling to open your eyes, you force yourself into keeping alert just so you can take in the view of your raggedly breathing boyfriend, peeking up from the curves between your breasts, hand on the inside of your underwear and soaking his slender fingers inside, applying even pressure. He is amused at the sight of how effortlessly they go in and out, assisted by your moisture, so much so that he forgets about your breasts for a moment. Your voice brings his attention back, however.

“I – I can’t...”

“It’s okay. Don’t hold it in”, he reassures, but maybe he is also talking to himself, as Riddle is always the type to exceed in self-restraint. You are melting, becoming undone with a touch of his hand and he cannot get enough of how it feels – to hear you panting and moaning, to know he will soon be able to press inside you and fill you with his length. It’s an unfamiliar, weird, wonderful thing – not quite like he had imagined, but perfect all the same. Your chest is responsive to his every kiss, and now his fingers have gotten faster and heavier. He can feel you close and is living for it.

“Riddle, I –”

“You’re so beautiful,” he gasps breathily, finally able to be honest with himself. “Don’t hold back. It’s all right.”

“Riddle. Riddle? I’m – I ––”

“––Y/N,” he chuckles, and his touch becomes even more merciless. Your hard nipples cannot possibly take any more kisses. “You’re so adorable.”

It’s not like you need any more stimulation, but as he says this, his mouth is full of one breast and hand cupping the other, and you can clearly see it all, from his heavy-lidded slate grey eyes to his dark red eyelashes, all focused on you as he’s making your sex squeak with wet sounds, pushing down just underneath your navel as his fingers throb and sting inside you.

“Please. Don’t stop.”

He won’t. He’s not the type to tease you like that. Your toes are curling in a frenzy as your legs swing inevitably open, and pretty soon you’re incoherently giving into the thrusting of his hand, and his lips have not left your breasts for one second.

You can’t hold it in. You would have if you could have – the sensation was just too amazing, and you were trying to grasp at straws –literally, if by straws you mean sinking your nails into his shoulders– trying to prolong your orgasm to no avail. You are coming all over, spasming and stirring and gasping his name, and Riddle is a bit scared at first – did he – did he do that? – but it seems you are content, and you settle down huffing beneath him. He takes out his fingers, but his hand stays put, pushing on you softly, as you are still whimpering with the aftershocks that come and go after the peak.

Riddle knows what is supposed to come after that, but the thought alone makes his stomach do cartwheels. Now, how to initiate? He doesn’t have time to think, as you grab him by the wrist, taking his hand out of your underwear and giving it a tug, motioning him to come closer. In your current clouded state, it’s hard of you to completely gain enough strength to pin him down as you originally had wanted to, so you settle to have him sit beside you as you roll over so that your upper body meets his crotch.

“Y/N?” he yelps, suddenly self-aware of how flush his length is against the fabric of his boxers, throbbing to come out, and your face is now caressing it softly with only one layer to separate you.

“Ah. Sorry. Too fast?”

He shakes his head.

“No. Actually,” he pushes his underwear down. “Please. Can you –”

He needn’t ask. The sensation of him in your mouth compelled such novelty – it was weird to get used to, but at the same time felt like the natural next step to take. Tip reddened and throbbing, teased by your lips as your hands would steady his thighs. Funny how something so intense – suckling at him, gasping for jagged breaths, as the bitter taste of his precum numbs your other senses – would come apparent to you so matter-of-factly, unrehearsed yet perfectly calculated. Riddle stifles moans until he can’t anymore, pouring from his lips, buckling into you with hand tangled in your hair, pulling you closer.

He’s no longer thinking straight, and that’s fine. If he were, he’d still be stuck in the preparation phase, staring mindlessly at the welt of your socks, unable to move. But since he’s no longer counting the kisses he’s given you tonight, he’ll make a point of also not counting how many times he’ll thrust into you, as he topples you over when the wetness of your mouth just won’t quite scratch that itch, and hurriedly reaches over the counter for a condom. It’s not like the guilt is completely done, but this – this is everything right now, and as you are huffing and puffing away below him, eager to receive him, he understands that a bit of chaos is needed every once in a while.

A lot of first times are awkward. This might be no exception. But he enters you with such ease, you wonder how this new feeling can be so recognizable, as the pressure builds between your legs and his hipbones dig into you once again, and he restrains your hands with his, raising your arms, soft eyes filled with lust.

“So tight...” Riddle whispers, but it’s more like sounds are escaping him, uncontrolled, “Y/N... y-you’re...”

His speech is barely intelligible, though you can sometimes make out words – ‘beautiful’, ‘good’, ‘wet’ – and a few poorly-pronounced phrases like “does it hurt?” –– it doesn’t, and as you’re pinned beneath him with a clear view into his quivering rosy lips and half-lidded gaze, you know he’s getting closer as he gets harder. He‘s trying to get his mouth full of your taste as if it were forbidden – like it all boiled down to this one evening, and this chance was all he had. And if it were for him, he would have made it last forever – but his body is not so used to this kind of endurance, so after a few minutes Riddle finally gives in, collapsing into your shoulder, quietly whimpering your name, in a moment of weakness that is greater than he’d like to admit. Riding his orgasm, fingers entwined with yours and digging at your knuckles in a tight grip, his voice is unlike you’ve ever heard it before, and you understand its over once he quiets down.

The silence lasts for a few moments. Or, more appropriately put, a slight wave of sheepish embarrassment, as he’s promptly rolled over to your left and you’re both lying face up and wheezing up a storm as if you’d just ran some kind of marathon. But then Riddle slightly tugs at your hand.

“Everything alright?”

“I think so. You?”

“It’s been... quite the novelty,” he says flatly, but then smiles a little at his choice of words. “Do couples do this all the time? ...it seems exhausting.”

“So that’s it? That was your quota for a whole lifetime? Fine then.”

“––No!” he hastily turns sharp on his side, facing you, only to find that you’re unable to hold your laughter. “–Oh. Not funny, Y/N.”

“Sorry! Sorry.”

“– I would very much like it if we did it again. Uh... tomorrow, or – or some other time.”

You smile. “I would like that, too.”

“Should we settle on a schedule?”

“––what? No!” but a sudden tinge of guilt overcomes you, as you quickly realize he might need it. “U–uh, I mean, if – if that makes it easier for you–––”

“––just kidding,” a soft smirk escapes him, like a stifled giggle that says ‘gotcha’.

“Oh, look at you cracking jokes now,” you accuse him with a pout. “That’s a first.”

“Guess that makes two firsts in one day.”

As you both let out a complicit giggle, reaching out for the sheets and then for each other’s hands, no longer worried about the next one step or million steps to come, you find yourselves drifting off to sleep in a loose embrace.

[fluffyf0x]

In which your bf, Oikawa cheats on you....

So you don't slip the chance to get back on him..with his own best friend.

Big Red flag Oikawa, Mostly Red Flag reader, Semi-red flag Iwaizumi(?). Cheating trope( TRUST ME A LITTLE )

Warning: I'm not encouraging cheating, this is all for the sake of the story.

God he was an asshole. You knew that very very well. And you we're very very stupid. You knew for a fact that Oikawa was a horrible choice. You let your heart decide. And now you're suffering for it.

Iwaizumi was someone who tried his best to stick by his best friend's side. He knew he was an asshole a lot of times, but this? This was way over the line.

"God I hate him!" You felt like everything you knew was falling apart. Iwaizumi stood awkwardly by the corner of the apartment as you trashed around Oikawa's stuff. Haphazardly dumping his clothes and items into one trash bag. He belonged there anyway, it seemed fitting wasn't it?

Iwaizumi wasn't sure how else to comfort you. So he simply stood by there, patting your back whenever you dropped to the floor and cried. Letting you know he was there, he was listening. You took a deep breath, trying to keep your composure, it was almost embarrassing how you acted around Iwaizumi. Especially knowing he was your stupid boyfriend's best friend.

Soon the door to your apartment was unlocked, revealing a disheveled OIkawa. You wiped your tears with your sleeve so roughly Iwaizumi was worried for a second you might rub off your eyes.

Turning to face Oikawa, who's face seemed to distort into a mixture of surprise and fear. He seemed to have noticed that you knew what he's been doing. Iwaizumi stood up and stayed in front of you, a look of disappointment and anger plastered on his face.

"Shithead as always huh?" Iwaizumi said. Oikawa stood there, not sure as to what to say. You stood up, walking towards him, face to face with you. You couldn't read his expression now. Was he scared? annoyed? Shocked? or maybe all of them mixed together in a turbulence of emotions.

The three of you stood there in deafening silence. You wanted to scream at him, shout at him, hit him. But you couldn't even move your body. Standing there stupidly while tears fell from your eyes.

"I'm sorry" Oikawa was the first to break the silence. His apology was small like a whisper, barely audible. His eyes tried to look somewhere else, unable to maintain eye contact with you.

Didn't he want this? He has been trying so hard to find an excuse to break up with you. Gosh even going as far as cheating. It wasn't a method he liked but he was pushed to the corner and-

He really was an asshole huh?

Oikawa Tooru had already come to terms with that fact.

However, seeing you like this. Hair was messed up and your tears ran from your eyes to your cheeks. Your flushed red face and eyes filled with both anger and sadness. He felt a pang in his chest. Go ahead, call him an asshole one more time.

But you looked so pretty when you cried.

"I'm sorry..." he repeated. "I'm sorry" He repeated it again. Nevermind what he just did. He was stupid. This was stupid, nonetheless embarrassing even.

"I'm sorry" He repeated it one more time. Slowly kneeling in front of you. This was utterly contradicting. Why was he doing this? Did you actually have him wrapped around your finger? Seeing you cry like this made him utterly helpless. Take him to hell but he felt so guilty, so frustrated at the fact that he did this. But why? he wanted this. Didn't he?

why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why

Stupid.

"I hate you" You whispered.

"I know"

"I wish I never dated you in the first place" That sentence hurt like shit, but you were right. A straight attack on him. He could feel his chest tightening. His eyes were stinging, tears threatening to fall.

You hated him, for this. You really did. It was like he stabbed you fifteen times over, and yet you were still alive to feel the pain seeping through your body. What kind of tragedy was this? You loved him, trusted him, gave him your everything. From your first experiences to your everyday life.

End it. Your whole body was screaming for you to just end it here, stop letting the torture of this damned relationship. Let it go to ashes. Once and for all.

But seeing him kneeling to you right now, you can't just let him get away with this so easily...can you?

Don't end it.

You felt a faint smile ghost your lips. You crouched down, before hugging Oikawa. Right. You don't have to end it here

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

"Are you crazy y/n?" Iwaizumi slammed the table. "Why would you take him back?" He shouted. He doesn't mean to actually shout or scream at you, but he was really a bit too frustrated about this whole ordeal.

You simply kept mixing your coffee, a blank expression on your face. You watched Iwaizumi pace around like a madman. You felt a little bit of pity watching him like this. He had been the one to witness all of you and Oikawa's ups and downs. But this?

This was a different definition of crazy

"He cheated on you y/n. Are you seriously just taking him back like a blind woman?" Iwaizumi ran his fingers through his head. He scoffed, clearly he was too affected by this. How could he not? His best friend's stupidity was easily forgiven right in front of him.

You simply smiled, admittedly, he was someone who was nonetheless attractive. The way his biceps would flex whenever his arms moved a certain way. The way his flushed face would make him click his tongue and look away. The way you knew he had the biggest and shittiest crush on you ever since you met.

How you knew how he thought he could treat you so much better than Oikawa could.

You sighed. "We have a party next week right? With the other players from Seijoh?"

Iwaizumi huffed, rolling his eyes. You just blatantly ignored him. Albeit, he was irritated by that, but he still nodded his head.

"yeah, its next friday, I'm expecting Makki and the others to get wasted, again. So I might not drink." Iawaizumi placed his hands inside his pockets. He went back to his seat. Staring off somewhere unknown.

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

Oikawa was trying to keep himself sober. He had to drive home, with you, obviously. You were downing several glasses of alcohol. Makki and Matsu were a little bit overwhelmed at how much you were drinking. Iwaizumi simply sighed, knowing the current situation.

You wanted to do this drunk, or at least tipsy. But curse your high alcohol tolerance. You were still completely sober.

Makki laughed awkwardly. Him and Matsu were on one side of the table, while Oikawa, you and Iwaizumi sat on the other side respectively. You smiled bitterly.

"I can't get drunk, it's annoying" You said. Oikawa avoided his eyes. He was sure the reason why you were doing this was because of him. It was almost a miracle how you forgave him. How you were still with him even after that.

How much effort and time had he spent on you the past two weeks, trying to be the best boyfriend to exist? Even fully knowing he was the exact opposite. It was the least he could do, especially with everything he had done.

Oikawa gulped down another glass of beer. Too engrossed in his thoughts. His head was spiraling into madness. There was such an awkward tension in their table. He was the root of all of it.

His thoughts were interrupted when he heard Matsu gasp. He looked up, following Matsu's vision. He turned beside him to see you, so blatantly kissing Iwaizumi, right beside him.

His best friend was melting into the kiss, not even bothering to pull away, despite the crowd, despite everyone in the table knowing you and Oikawa were dating, despite Oikawa himself being there.

Your arms wrapped around Iwaizumi's neck, pulling him closer. The man responded by holding your waist. IIwaizumi's eyes flickered from you to Oikawa. His eyes lingered for a second, making eye contact with him. Mocking him.

Oikawa felt his head spinning. Being reduced to this by a woman. He even felt pitiful for himself. He deserved this, really. He was sure. It was all the karma flowing back to him. Stabbing him with a knife straight to his heart and not letting him die. Letting him feel all the pain.

The Oikawa Tooru was now a loser. Wasn't he?

He stood up and quickly left. Not bothering to even say his goodbyes. Matsu stood up and tried to follow him. Before being stopped by a hand. It was you. Smiling lazily as Iwaizumi was avoiding all eye contact.

"It's a how-to break your asshole of a boyfriend to pieces 101" You said. Smiling like a madman. You could feel the alcohol taking effect now. Almost losing all sanity. Oh well...

At least you can feel a little bit more at ease.

Guys this was so toxic I can't-

[memoriesndew]

intro to “coquette life planner” by the notion nest

In the last poll I did (on my kofi page), the majority of you wanted a 2024 coquette - mainly pink aesthetic and trust that I will always deliver. I wanted the life planner template to be everything so I put so much energy into this, most templates I make take about 2-4 weeks depending on the simplicity or complexity of it, but this took a month plus to make. I tried to include everything and make it aesthetic and cute. it comes with a travel planner, a daily, weekly and monthly planner, a general to-do list, a goal tracker connected to tasks and more. it includes 30+ pages. I made sure to add the goal tracker into the different pages each goal is related to. i added a goal view to fitness page for your fitness goals and to the school dashboard and others. This template is beginner-friendly and is not as complicated as some of my other templates and I tried to include only the things that are necessary to reduce distractions. it also includes a Pomodoro timer and page for those who would like to use the Pomodoro method to work. I hope this template works for you as much as possible enjoy.

More about the template

Introduction

Enter the Notion Coquette Life Planner, a digital tool for bringing the coquette lifestyle to life in an organized and visually appealing manner. Whether you're new to Notion or an experienced user, this article will help you construct a calendar that captures the essence of the coquette aesthetic while keeping you on track with your goals.

Why Choose the Coquette Life Planner?

Aesthetic Appeal: With its soft pastel colours, delicate fonts, and elegant layouts, the Coquette Life Planner turns the mundane into something magical. Every time you open it, you’re greeted with a visual experience that motivates you to dive into your tasks and plans.

Comprehensive Organization: This planner isn’t just about looks—it’s packed with functional features. Every aspect of your life can be neatly organized in one place, from daily, weekly, and monthly calendars to habit trackers, goal-setting pages, and project management tools.

Customizable Layouts: Notion's flexibility allows you to tailor the planner to your specific needs. Whether you need extra journaling space, a dedicated brainstorming section, or a simple to-do list, the Coquette Life Planner can be easily customized to fit your lifestyle.

Mindfulness and Self-Care: Life isn’t just about productivity; it’s about balance. The planner includes sections dedicated to mindfulness, self-care routines, and reflections, ensuring you’re not just crossing tasks off a list but also taking care of yourself.

How to Use the Coquette Life Planner

Getting started with the Coquette Life Planner is simple. Once you purchase it from my Ko-fi shop, you'll receive a pdf that will lead you to a link to duplicate the planner into your Notion workspace. From there, you can begin customizing it to your heart's content. Here are a few ideas to get you started:

Daily Planning: Use the daily layout to organize your tasks, appointments, and personal notes. Add motivational quotes or images that inspire you to make each day beautiful and productive.

Goal Setting: Break down your big dreams into actionable steps with the goal-setting template. Whether it’s launching a new project, learning a skill, or cultivating a new habit, the planner will keep you focused and motivated.

Self-Care Tracking: Monitor your self-care habits with dedicated trackers. Whether it's maintaining a skincare routine, keeping up with exercise, or practicing daily gratitude, you’ll be able to track them all.

Ready to embrace your inner coquette and transform the way you plan your life? Visit my Ko-fi shop and get your hands on the Coquette Life Planner today!

Shop Now: [Ko-fi Shop Link]

Follow Me: For more aesthetic digital tools and resources, be sure to follow me on social media and stay tuned for updates on new products!

[masterofengene]

heyy , could you do &team reactions to their s/o having trouble with sleeping ? thanks a lot

&team with an s/o who has trouble sleeping.

Warnings: none

K.

Okay so he gives off the vibe that he has trouble sleeping as well, maybe occasionally.

He is gonna be a sweetheart about it.

He knows you need sleep and he knows it's what is good for your body so he is gonna try every way he knows how to get you to sleep.

Essential oils. Massages. Soft music playing throught the room.

He makes it his mission to get you to fall asleep.

"I know you can't sleep...but you have that big assignment tomorrow and you need the rest...."

Plays with your har until you fall asleep (unless he falls asleep first, his methods are very affective.

He doesn't want you to take melatonin, instead he wants to find a natural way for you to sleep.

Fuma

He may be the most fit one in &team. But TRUST he turns into your own personal pillow.

In his mind, cuddles are the solution to any problem (he's right)

He's gonna put on your favorite show with the volume down low, turn the lights out.

Then cuddle.

He's gonna spoon you so he can feel when your breathing evns out, or have you lay on his chest.

He says it's because he wants to make sure you fall asleep but really it helps him fall asleep more than you.

Hums tunes in your ears until you relax and rubs your back

Nicholas

Honestly, I feel like he has a hard time sleeping as well.

So really the nights you spend together, you guys might not even sleep.

Because you both know that your brains won't slow down enough for you to sleep so you both just...don't sleep

Instead you guys stay up just talking about your day and just playing around until the exhaustion finally wears on you two

If you guys have something important the next day. Pillow fight.

Pillow fights exhaust both of you so quickly. You could just wage war on each other for 15 minutes then boom.

Sleeping babies.

Ej

Okay so deep breath.

I feel like he would take a logical approach and do things that he knows bores you, or that you don't find entertaining.

Puts on a nature documentary.

"What? It's educational!"

He isnt even into it, but he knows you'll be so bored you'll fall asleep

Evil genius.

Certified evil genius

Lights a candle that he knows you like.

Random background noises.

Whale noises (clearly those don't work)

Eventually you fall asleep while he is reading the encyclopedia to you

Yuma

He's gonna have you drinking herbal tea that has no caffeine.

He won't do much else to help you sleep, just pull you in for snuggles and sing for you tbh.

He's gonna make sure that everything around you is calm and serene. If maki tries to come in and disturb your slumber he's throwing the nearest object at him.

Be prepared to be the little spoon. He's gonna cuddle you for days.

If he notices you tired one day, he is gonna try and get you to take a nap. Even if it's just a 15 minute power nap.

He knows how important sleep is.

Frowns when he sees you chugging an energy drink.

Jo

To be honest. I get the vibes that he doesn't sleep that well.

I feel like he's the type that stays up all night to play video games or watch anime.

You both don't realize how bad your sleep schedules are until you two stayed up until 6 in the morning and fuma walked in looking like he was ready to strangle you both for staying up all night.

From then on you two try not to stay the night with each other, because your bad sleep feeds off each other.

You two can only spend the night together once a week for the sake of your eye bags.

Gucci eye bags

Designer eye bags

Harua

He's not going to nag you into getting sleep.

He reminds you about once a week that you need to try and get a better sleep schedule going.

When he notices that you're staying up way too late, he's going to start texting you every night that it's bed time.

He's trying okay. But he doesn't want to see annoying or bother you.

If he notices that you're struggling to stay awake, he will try to get you to a place where you can relax as soon as he can.

"Please start trying to slep better...always being awake isnt a good thing."

Taki

To be honest I feel like he has just as bad a sleep schedule as you do.

Like it's just because he started training to be an idol so young so he just couldn't help it.

He was used to late nights anyway so he always had trouble falling asleep.

So when he met you you're two sleep schedules sort of fed into each other.

It was like an understood "my body won't let me fall asleep"

So you two just filled your nights with telling each other stories either over the phone or in person.

You two would just talk about your day until you finally fell asleep.

Maki

Okay. He straight up doesn't care. At all.

He knows you and he knows how to help.

If you say "I can't sleep." He won't listen because yes you can.

He knows his voice is calming to you. You told him so. So when he notices you're restless he comes to cuddle.

He does it so Inconspicuously that you don't even notice his master plan.

Lulling you to sleep with good cuddles and whatever rambled comes to mind. Sometimes he serenaded you in German (even if you have no idea what he said)

He just talks. He let's everything come out at once.

[dodorimo]

something old, something new

Raphael x Tax is the main ship but this mainly features platonic Astarion x Tav

· · ──────  ❊  ────── · ·

They’ve been doing this for hours. Her forehead glistens with sweat and her legs threaten to give out at any moment. If they keep up this pace, it won't be long before she is a goner.

“Ouch!” Tav cries out as the needle pierces her skin and a lone drop of blood runs down the side of her arm. The seamstress glances up, horror in her eyes, then breaks down into a flurry of apologies, leaving the room with the promise to return with gauze to staunch the blood flow.

Astarion, lounging in the armchair with a book in his hands, perks up at the sight of her distress, suddenly interested in the scene playing out in front of him.

“Darling,” Astarion says the moment the door closes, looking at her up and down. “This isn’t the one.”

“I like it,” she says, touching the fabric of the dress’ lacy, flowing sleeves while being careful not to disrupt the pins. “It’s my wedding, after all.”

The fact that this even had to be said was absurd.

“It’s an outdoor wedding in Tuscany,” he emphasizes the word, as if she needed a reminder. “In the middle of summer, no less. And you look like you’re going to haunt some poor peasant family.”

A sigh of pure exhaustion leaves her lips. This was the third dress she tried on, and all of them have failed miserably to impress her current company, or herself, for that matter.

She had no idea what she was looking for when walked into that shop. Her only requirement was ‘absolutely no trail, of any kind’. She’d rather be a bride who can walk down the aisle on her own, thank you very much.

“You seem a little stressed.” Graceful as a fox, Astarion crosses the distance between them and leans in to whisper in her ear, his voice low and laced with promise. “If you'd prefer, we could take an extended break to help you take your mind off the matter…”

She tries to put on a stern face, but her smile betrays her amusement. “Astarion, I’ll be a married woman in just three weeks.”

“So what? I’m sure Raphael would understand. Think of it as your version of a bachelorette party.” Hot breath tickles her ear and she shivers in anticipation in spite of herself.

“You’re incorrigible,” Tav scolds, shaking her head.

“Don’t act so outraged. Why else would you’ve specifically requested my presence today—”

“Because none of my girl friends have the patience?” she offers.

“—if not for this?” His finger traces her collarbone, all the way down to her cleavage. The touch is slow, deliberate, and entirely devoid of passion, as one would expect from long-term friends.

“I can barely move around as it is.”

It was only half a lie. Even raising her arms was proving too tall a task, let alone doing anything else.

“Your loss,” Astarion finally concedes, throwing up his hands in the air and returning to his chair; his voice never losing its playful lilt. “You can make it up to me in other ways. Like answering my questions, for one.”

There’s a wicked gleam in his eyes when she catches his gaze in the mirror. She braces herself for the worst.

“Is our mutual friend a good lover? He definitely looks the part.”

Tav does her best to mask her hesitation, but like blood on the floor, he picks up its scent nonetheless.

“Oh,” is all he has to say.

“It’s nothing like that. It’s…” she tries to make up for her blunder, to no avail. It’s complicated, she wanted to tell him.

“Say no more.”

Glad to let the subject drop, she turns her attention to her reflection in the mirror.

It was no surprise that Raphael took on the burden of wedding planning. But his methods could be… overwhelming. Everything had to be perfect: from the venue and the canapés to the music played at the reception (his own compositions, incidentally enough). Tav had no doubt that her list of potential guests would be returned with several names crossed out.

“I made up my mind. This is the dress. If he doesn’t like it, well… trust him to buy another one.”

“Hm. I suppose there’s some charm to it. A gift ready to be unwrapped.” He gestures with both his hands, as if tracing her curves. The dress flared at the top before narrowing at the hips, leaving little to the imagination. Was it trumpet or mermaid-shaped? She can’t remember. Either way, better to keep it in mind not to stuff her face full of wedding cake when the day finally comes.

She arches an eyebrow at him. “But I thought you hated it?

“You can say I was only playing devil's advocate. Now, I assume you’ve set aside enough time in your schedule today to buy the rest of the outfit?” he asks in a conversational tone, as if he’s commenting on the weather.

For several moments, she can only stare at him, confused, as he leans in to pop a candy into his mouth. What else could she have missed?

She still had to schedule hair and makeup for the big day, not to mention sort out some last pending details for their Caribbean honeymoon. She isn't cut out for this job. When it came to party planning, she was as helpless as a floundering baby in the middle of the ocean. How other women took joy in this experience was a complete mystery.

Astarion presses his hand to his face. “Oh gods, darling… the lingerie! What else? Arguably the most important part. There’s a reason there’s a store just down the street.”

Maybe she would be a goner after all.

[sunnyy3d]

Hellooo I was wondering if we can get Nathan drake SFW and NSFW headcanons?

A/n: Thanks for the request! I'm sorry it took so long but I hope you enjoy it! Alo, this is my first time doing nsfw... (Requests Open!!!!)

☼☽⋆｡°✧ SFW ✧⋆°｡☾☼

He’s definitely a big cuddler. He’s always trying to keep you in bed in the morning.

He loves to give you hugs from behind. Whether on an adventure or just doing the dishes; he’ll walk up behind you, wrap his arms around your waist, rest his head on your shoulder, and just chit-chat.

He’s very protective. Let’s be honest, it can get pretty annoying at times, but you know he always means the best. When you get hurt, you never doubt that he’ll be by your side immediately.

He loves that you have a good relationship with Sam and Sully. He just loves all of you so much, so it means a lot that you guys get along.

He never misses the chance to tell you that he loves you. Every time you leave the room or hang up a phone call with him, he makes sure to tell you how much he loves you.

He’s just so in love with you. There isn’t a single thing about you that he doesn’t love. Sam and Sully are constantly catching him with a love-struck look on his face, and they make sure to make fun of him for it. Hell, they make fun of you too. They’re always making comments about how you have Nate wrapped around your finger. About how maybe you did some kind of magic and casted a spell on him.

As history nerds, the two of you love to randomly reference historical facts (”That’s more pathetic than King Phillip II of Spain’s fifth armada”).

One time, Nate went on a “top secret mission” that he refused to tell you the details of. Though you were initially against it, Nate begged you to trust him and eventually convinced you to let him go (it took a couple of different methods of persuasion). Turns out, he had gone on a risky mission— risky enough that you wouldn’t have agreed to him going— due to the large sum the award provided. With this money, he bought a custom engagement ring. It was the ring you always told him that you wanted if you guys ever became filthy rich. Not only did it have top-of-the-line metal, it had the most beautiful gems in it.

He’s a HUGE flirt. Even though you’re already together, he always makes sure to tell you how hot you look. You could be fighting mercenaries or even brushing your teeth and he’ll tell you that you’re gorgeous.

After an unsuccessful mission, he’ll always say something along the lines of, “It’s okay, I still have you and that’s all I’ll ever need.”

You guys met when he came to you regarding information on a certain treasure. You agreed to give him the information on one condition: you get to go find the treasure with him.

☼☽⋆｡°✧ NSFW ✧⋆°｡☾☼

He’s very jealous and that tends to translate into your sex life. After some guy tries to flirt with you, he’ll make sure to remind you why you don’t need anyone else.

He LOVES to eat you out. Part of it is that he just likes pussy. But most of it is that he loves to pleasure you. He doesn’t care if he gets off, as long as you do.

Once, when you guys were on a mission, the mercenaries had captured you. When Nate FINALLY got to you, you were tied up. He definitely waited a few minutes before letting you down so that he could stare at you. Everything about the way you looked with your hands tied above your head and how mean you were to the mercenaries turned him on. Ever since then, he has loved tying you up.

He’s tried roleplaying with you. One scenario was that he was a thief trying to seduce you into letting him take the Queen’s crowned jewels.

He likes to edge you. While he is all about your pleasure, he knows that you’re into it. It also gives him a sense of satisfaction, we all know how cocky he is. Occasionally, he’ll even add on overstimulation, going until you’re begging him to stop.

One time he had the terrible idea to try a lush on you. He made you wear it (you consented of course) on a very low-risk mission. While you were successful, it’s not something you would do again.

He’s often away, so he’s not opposed to sexting. He doesn’t care if it’s over text or on call, he’s down for it. He especially loves it when you send him unprompted nudes.

[ryuatewater]

what happened why is there mass genocide of anons???

glad im not anon

wait-

-📟

Well its from the anonverse uh ill explain it all wait

Okay so you know @/a-narcissists-warren right?

Funny thing they have their asks open and answer non question like stuff (basically just talking)

Well my friend started talking to them in anon while also adding an anon sign off so Afonso could recognize em (they used the 💽🎞 emoji combo)

And Afonso always* drew a little doodle when answering them, they even drew the anons and gave them unique designs based off their emojis

When I saw my friend talking to Afonso (who is literally my idol) I ofcourse wanted to do it too so I sent in a few asks (one or two asks really because i was nervous and shy) ALSO using an anon sign off (though i got the short end of the stick because my anon sign off had stuff to do with trees my lil guy was a tree too)

Then new anons started appearing so Afonso started drawing them designs too

People REALLY loved the designs and everything was going jolly

Then Notepad anon made an account for their anonsona

Everyone LOVED the idea and started making accounts too

The anons were interacting with eachother, drawing eachother fanart, blah blah blah everything was so fun and jolly!!

Heres the most recent pic i have of the anons btw

BTW THIS IS DRAWN BY @a-narcissists-warren SORRY FOR THE TAG

BUT there was a certain anon (I've seen a few names used for them like funny, odd, creepy but most common was silly anon so ill just call em that) silly anon had an account way before they started sending asks to Afonso

I wasnt there to see it myself but from what ive heard Silly Anon is canonically a child, back when the account first started people sent "asks" to silly anon just brutally murdering them woth gory descriptions that i wont be talking about now, this of course affected the child a lot and the kid grew up to be extremely violent (they were canonically 7 years old when they started sending asks to Afonso i believe) they also closed their own ask box because they were scared of getting hurt again

Silly anon would brutally kill people if not given enough candy (they of course loved candy bc theyre a literal child) so there was a full on massacre that happened because silly hadnt eaten enough candy to calm down

I believe it was here when we learned of a power Afonso had, they could draw in the air with their finger and anything they drew became real! But if they drew too much theyd experience a burn out where their hand was literally burnt and they couldnt draw properly

So Afonso started drawing candy for silly anon and when they couldnt draw because of a burn out they went and bought some for them

Afonso also tried to treat silly well and made them feel welcome (acting like a parental figure in my opinion)

So silly started trusting Afonso

Afonso drew all the dead people back to life and everything was alright again

Timeskip to when sillys canonical birthday came, they were turning 8 years old, they made a post about it and tagged every anon, everyone gave silly candy and sweets!! It was going so well until ONE ANONYMOUS ASSHOLE stabbed silly anon, silly healed quickly but was enraged, seeing red even, the ask box closed back up and silly went on another rampage literally killing EVERY ANON THERE IS and they were killing these anons using methods people ued on them, making the anons live trough sillys trauma

Okay so every anon was dead, Afonso was outside while all this was happening so when they came back they were horrified, every anon was dead and silly was so mad they even wanted to kill Afonso but Afonso started crying about how they couldnt make silly feel better, become a better person and theyve done all that they could

Silly dropped their weapon and hugged Afonso falling asleep on their shoulder because they were exhausted from all that killing, they breathed out a white gas from their mouth recovering every anon thats body was still intact and not turned into a pile of gore

Afonso drew all the other people back to life so now every anon is back EXCEPT ONE, 💽🎞 anon (who we like to call dvd anon), dvd anon was underground when they got killed so they cant be recovered right now

But every other anon is back

Thats where the story is at right now

Ryu note: if dvd doesnt come back i will cry /halfjoking

[readreactrant]

I watched Code Geass but before I get to my short rant about the show and the ship you can pretty much guess this is about…. Let me just say….

This show peaked at the pseudo incest brocon subplot, I'm taking no arguments!

Fine, fine, that's definitely not entirely true but Rolo's death had me pausing the show and staring at the screen like for what reason?! Let the boy be hopelessly obsessed goddammit 😭😭😭

Now I've gotten that out of my system…

Guess who's the character I hate most?

shocker I know/sarc

I haven't hated one half of my otp ship in a piece of media this much since that one Episode Nagi panel of Reo's heart getting destroyed by Nagi's dumbass (Reo my love love I'd treat you so much better)

Suzaku's case is worse by several degrees because his idiocy and attitude only continued to stoke the flames of my annoyance for the whole two fucking seasons until like the three or two episodes at the end cause oh my fucking God I cried.

(That shit was a wild ride enough nothing is making me watch any spin offs or side stories I care that little)

From the first moment he entered that Lancelot suit and agreed to help the side that attempted to silence him by murder, I clocked his ass and marked him as the dumbest bitch to ever exist but we love a protective loyal dog Top don't we ladies?

"I want to change the system from the inside-" bitch shut up these are colonizers you ain't changing nothing 😭

Even after they they tried pining the murder on him to sentence him to death AGAIN!! BOY WENT BACK.

AND!

He refused Zero?!

HUH?!?

Now I'm not a particularly patriotic person (I hate my county so so much) but if we got neo colonized, No matter what merits I would never be friendly or cooperative with the other side.

Suzaku stopped his country fighting back (valid reason or not I don't remember, he killed his dad and that meant surrender ig) and proceeded to kiss up to brits, fall in love with one of them, and further hinder every attempt of his own people fighting back because 'Violence wrong' but it's okay when he does it because some made up ideal told him being subservient would make a change. And it did….just for him tho, all other 11s? no one cares.

And it didn't even matter because Lulu's methods were always the ones that brought things closer!

I know it's a kind of a commentary on something, I ain't stupid but I was still pissed.

Literally had me gritting my teeth almost every time he stepped on screen, especially when he went pseudo emo after becoming a knight of round or whatever.

Bottom line, he frustrated me as much as he did Lelouch but I still wanted to see them FUCK.

The last couple of episodes where genuinely the best things I've ever watched and a brilliant end to the series. I wouldn't say I grew to enjoy all the characters but God did the plot threads keep me going.

Trust I understood very little about the gate shit and the killing God aspect but when you're having a fun time everything just looks good.

To sum up SuzaLulu…

Giving me friends to enemies to lovers (correct me not I won't hear you) All mixed together with the palpable hatred and vitriol they held toward each other is just too much.

And Lelouch as a bottom is literally my type >.< psycho, pretty, and bad at sports (also having a natural inclination to dominate others)??? SIGN ME THE FUCK UP!!!

His dramatic ass had me gripped and his personality contrasted so beautifully with Suzaku's dumbass that while I did want to be sad about that redhead he might have liked dying….girl bye 👋 make way for the gay 🏳️‍🌈

(Srsly tho, I was sad for a sec, it was a very shocking scene to say the least but Rolo pulled such a Brocon move I was laughing for a solid minute.)

I very much didn't want to be like most other yaoi shippers that watched this shit when they were ten and went for the very obvious but still delicious low hanging fruit yaoi but I see enemies to lovers mixed with tragic yaoi and an undeniably fun story and brain stops functioning lmaooo. Turns out I'm very much like other fujins ;p

Closing thoughts: Umm…If you're going to defend Suzaku in the replies…go for it I'm down to listen but he'll forever be my bitch. I love Lelouch but Light is better, Orange x Lelouch is underratedand C.C. and Kallen should have gotten married.

[johnnyslvr]

I wanted to try shifting around a year ago but it never worked, could you give me some tips please??? Thank you 💗

Shifting tips !! °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

from someone who has minishifted >_<

(Please ask me questions, I love talking with you guys :3)

I would just wanna start off and say that these tips have helped me minishift, your journey may be different so if these don’t work please don’t feel discouraged. At the end of the day you either shift or YOU give up.

Starting point 🗝️⋆｡𖦹°‧★

Do you truly want to shift?

Do you intend to wake up in your Dr? Attempt to shift and know that your Dr is where you are going to go. What I’ve seen most people who want to “shift” are still afraid of the concept, you can’t trust yourself that you will shift if you still don’t know if you even want to shift.

Shifting Tips 🗝️⋆｡𖦹°‧★

TAKE BREAKS , take breaks if you feel you aren’t getting anywhere. Whether it means for a day or two or for weeks. Don’t over stress yourself if you truley don’t feel like shifting. I know we get elicited and want to shift every night, but if you feel drained it’s okay to take breaks. ꩜ .ᐟ

DONT OVERCOMPLICATE IT, you dont have to drink 2 gallons of water a day in order to shift. Or make sure your 100 step shifting method is perfect. Do what you feel is right. ꩜ .ᐟ

EASE UP, I know we feel we have to do so many methods, and have to have a perfect method in order to shift but that’s simply not true. I have minishifted by just not following my method anymore and just doing what I feel is correct. Don’t force yourself to do something you feel isn’t right. Do what you like. ꩜ .ᐟ

ITS EASY, don’t make shifting to be something hard. The more you convenience yourself it’s hard the more difficult it will be for you. Shifting is all about mindset, what you say becomes your reality. The more you complain that “shifting is hard” the more hard it will become for you. ꩜ .ᐟ

WE ALWAYS SHIFT, everything we do causes a shift out of us. For example take your hand and grab anything, you have just shifted to a reality where you have grabbed that thing. Where then is another reality where you didn’t. Every decision you make causes you to shift. Even in “failed attempts” where you don’t wake up in your Dr, you still shifted to a reality where you tried to go to your Dr. Shifting is as simple as breathing. ꩜ .ᐟ

GROUNDING, you are already in your Dr. Your DRSELF is still YOU. You should focus on grounding yourself to be at your Dr already. You can shift at any moment, even as of right now. Learn to ground yourself, to get to the feeling of living in your Dr. ꩜ .ᐟ

ROBOTIC AFFIRMING, omg such an underrated way to affirm. When you have free time just affirm, say your shifting affirmations like “I’m a master shifter” “I shift realities whenever I want” “I can go to my Dr whenever.” Just say these over and over and over, when your cleaning your room, when your outside, whenever you want. Just repeatedly affirm over and over. ꩜ .ᐟ

RESEARCH ON YOUR OWN, don’t take everything you find on TikTok(shiftok can be so bad with all the misinformation.) Find your own things about shifting, do research on your own time, you don’t have to understand everything but knowing more will always feel comforting. ꩜ .ᐟ

PRACTICE A METHOD, shifting is a progress. Of course you can shift on your first time but it’s not so common due to how much were attached to our cr. The more you practice a method the more you get the hang of it. If you feel a method is working for you, trust your intuition and practice that method. Do what feels right to YOU. ꩜ .ᐟ

FLIP DOUBTS, flip negatives to positives. Every time you have a thought about shifting like “I can’t shift” turn it positive, think “why do I think that if I shift with everything I do. You always shift, you just have to make it to your Dr. ꩜ .ᐟ

These are the end of the tips!!! I can make more if needed but I’ll feel I’ll end here. You guys can talk to me whenever!! Feel free to ask any questions, my inbox is always open!! ⋆˚✿˖°

I love you all, happy shifting 𓊆ྀི❤︎𓊇ྀི

[jplupineislost]

This....sucks.

So I've briefly mentioned some of this stuff before but given my current circumstances, I think some transparency might be needed. I could potentially be homeless soon and I'm at the end of my rope.

Under the cut will be how I ended up in this position with some potentially triggering topics [harassment, assault, abuse] Links to help me keep my home are at the very end if you want to skip the triggering parts.

Around two years ago, I was living in an apartment with my mother through government assisted housing. Between the both of us, our combined incomes were far beneath the poverty line even for a one person household. We're both disabled, so our methods of getting income are limited. The apartment became a health hazard to my mother because of neighbors stealing packages that contained medical supplies and upstairs neighbors nearly constantly smoking cigarettes and weed with the smoke coming down to our apartment through the connected vents.

The smoke was so strong that it stuck to our clothes and doctors would run secret drug tests because they thought we were lying about not doing drugs. We both have asthma, but mine is not as severe whereas Ma also has COPD and was having to do daily breathing treatments due to the smoke. We did everything we could to get it to stop including contacting management to see if they could talk to the neighbors about smoking outside instead of inside; we were essentially told we either had to just deal with it or move. This is on top of the same neighbors causing several floods from their apartment into ours. Given our financial situation, there was nowhere we could go.

Ma's health started getting worse from the smoke to the point that her doctor's told us that we needed to move or she could be put in a home. So with no money to live anywhere else, it was looking as if Ma would be taken away and I would be left homeless.

Our situation was taken advantage of by someone Ma thought she could trust. An old friend she had known and lost contact with but found again years later had agreed to help us move by all three of us getting a house and splitting the bills based on income. It seemed like the perfect solution; space, no more smoke, and the ability to install disability aids- the apartments had not allowed us to make the apartment accessible, which led to several injuries over the time we lived there. I had managed to save income tax + stimulus money that was just enough for a home inspection and other necessary expenses, so I covered those with the agreement that Ma's friend would pay me back for his part. He never did.

We managed to get a house- one that turned out to not even be up to code but it was too late to back out now, which put me into dept with loans to fix. There are still many repairs needing to be done, but those have no choice but to wait.

Moving in, MF said the place he lived prior had bedbugs but he had treated his things already so not to worry about it. He lied. The back bedroom got an infestation we had no money to get rid of, leaving us to resort to cheap sprays that did very little. It also became quickly apparent that MF was incredibly irresponsible with money; he would spend hundreds of dollars on unnecessary expenses from video game loot to luxury items. He frequently was late on bills that usually fell to me to pay off with whatever savings I had, so anytime I had a savings, it would be gone shortly after so that things like utilities would not be cut off.

Conflict and arguments became common over various things. MF was barely less than a stranger to me, but I tried to be polite and get to know him. The more I talked to him, the more I became uncomfortable. He was a sexist pig who laughed about beating one of his exes.

And now we were stuck living with him. MF is also disabled and took advantage of that as well. He was manipulative and would put up the image of 'poor disabled white man' to get out of trouble who knows how many times at this point. Ma secretly got into contact with some of his past partners and people who lived with him, and they had pretty consistent stories; he made their lives Hell. He called them all crazy and jealous, but given the fact that he was also making our lives Hell, it was clear he was a liar. Every time he got caught lying and called out on it, he tried to gaslight us.

MF escalated his behavior knowing we had nowhere else to go and no money to do so. He tried pushing boundaries with me, getting too close when I was bent over and had my hands preoccupied or when I wore certain clothes. I would immediately tell him to not get that close to me and he would react negatively with anger and trying to make it out as if I was overreacting.

My mother is not as confident in enforcing boundaries as I am. She wanted to 'keep the peace' but was being abused when I wasn't in the room. I didn't find out until much later when she ended up physically injured with bruised ribs. This was also when her doctors found out how dangerous our living situation was.

Then Ma had major surgery for health related reasons. She was in and out of the ICU for over a week recovering, and the entire time, MF was going to the hospital and telling the doctors/nurses all sorts of lies from being Ma's boyfriend to husband, took me off her emergency contact, and refused to tell me what was happening to her. MF would up and leave without warning, and because of my work and other factors, I could not go see Ma while he was there. One day I told MF that we would go see Ma together so that I could actually get to see her in recovery.

The next morning when we were supposed to go, he left early by himself without saying a word. I had to take my little brother to work 'cause he didn't have a car and had to prioritize that so my brother wouldn't lose pay or his job. When I got to the hospital afterward, I had a suspicion and went to the front desk to ask where Ma was before I went anywhere. Found out then that MF had also lied about what room Ma was in. When I get there, a nurse was checking on Ma and asks who I am. I tell him, and he turns to MF and asks "Is this the one you said wasn't coming?" I was seething. Ended up having a breakdown shortly after because I finally learned what all was happening with Ma.

Ma's doctors and social workers, after several months, were able to find a way to get MF out of the house. He was given the options of leaving and owing only $500 a month in mortgage or being taken away by police. He didn't leave until the day before he would be forcibly removed. He stole several items of ours while leaving junk and spare furniture behind. Him leaving behind furniture was not out of kindness, but another way to lie and play the victim to people who didn't know what was happening. 'They kicked me out and stole my things' is the gist of what he told others so they would pity him and give him money/luxury items.

Since he was only obligated to pay $500 in mortgage, Ma and I had to figure out how to pay the bills he had been covering while living there. We managed it, but we could not cover that $500 with our incomes. MF did not pay that $500 and hasn't in over a year. We've been scrambling month after month to cover it. I got a better job and still can't cover it. We tried to seek legal action to hold MF to his contractual obligation of the $500....he put himself into a temporary hold at a mental clinic to be deemed 'incompetent' at the time. He's hopped around places to not be found, all the while threatening us and trying to sell the house while we're still living here.

He told us that he only has to wait it out until we have no choice left but to sell the house and he'll get his cut due to being a partial 'buyer'. Several times he even showed up without warning, coming into the fenced yard, digging through our trash, and getting into the shed. He only stopped as far as we know when threatened with the police.

For the past year, we've been struggling to cover his $500 and facing potential homelessness every month. We've been managing by the skin of our teeth, but it's looking as if our options are running out. Then with him trying to sell the house from under us, he may be able to succeed if we can't pay the mortgage, which will get him even more money than what he's already stolen from us. We're working on taking him off the mortgage, but that is taking time we may not have. We also can't legally get a roommate due to our state laws.

So I'm asking for help. If y'all could commission me, get stickers/magnets/etc. from my Redbubble shop, or donate through my Ko-fi, that would be greatly appreciated. Even just reblogging could help. I'm doing whatever I can to not lose my home.

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