#they are nonsensical and determined freaks

[hiiragi7]

Recovery, As A Word

Recovery is a very charged word.

Recovery is a word that brings up a lot of different feelings for me.

For a lot of people, recovery can be a word that is comforting, soothing. Recovery can also be a word that is clinical, made up of other people's expectations and divorced from what is personal. Sometimes the word recovery even brings other words to mind; Abandonment, assimilation, abstinence.

I think particularly of my time in the psych ward; A place where recovery has nothing to do with what I want and is not my choice, but rather exists as some pre-determined standard to meet before they may consider releasing me again. In that space, recovery is a contract you sign, swearing to a team of doctors that you are not-mad and not-suicidal and not-yourself - at least for a little while, at least until they lock you up again, and then you must do the entire dance of "Recovery" all over again. Recovery there is a performance, entertainment for people with power over you.

Even outside of the psych ward, recovery often brings these concepts to mind for me. Recovery is easily digestible, understandable (who would want to be mad, anyway, right??), and above all, inspirational.

Recovery, in a capitalist ableist society, becomes a product - Subscribe to this treatment, this pill, this therapy, this program. You want to recover, don't you? Who wouldn't want to recover? Recovery is great! Start your self-discovery self-care self-love wholesome journey today and become Just Like Us!*

*Terms and conditions may apply. Of course, we don't believe you'll actually recover (you'll always be mad!), but if you manage to fake it, we can chop up your story, your most intimate experiences, your whole life into convenient bite-sized pieces and sell that, too. Everyone loves a good "the disabled freak gets cured and becomes Normal and Healthy, Just Like Everyone Else" story!

Over the years, I have tried consistently to just focus on my own idea of recovery for myself, my own definitions and goals and journey. Something specific and personal to me, even if it didn't always conform to the popular narrative and ideas of what recovery is. And that's still important to me and something I consider important to talk about; I want other people to know that recovery doesn't have to mean not being yourself. I want people to know that recovery can be really messy. I want people to know that recovery can look exactly like disorder, and I want people to know that recovery is not incompatible with being mad, regardless of whatever gets shoved onto us. I want people to know that recovery is not some final destination that you reach, and that recovery doesn't have to mean abstinence from symptoms or addiction (and maybe it even means more symptoms for some of us, not less) and that recovery doesn't have to mean losing your community.

I want to turn recovery into a nonsense word, free to be defined however we choose, rather than chosen for us by others.

At the same time, I struggle a lot with how people see me ever since I started talking more about recovery. I struggle a lot with feeling used and feeling like I'm not being seen or treated as just another person. I struggle with feeling like others often put me on a pedestal and objectify me. I often worry that my words will not be taken with consideration and care, but rather will be consumed as though I am a product.

Let me be clear: I do not consent to being used this way. I don't exist to be other people's goals or inspiration or example.

Recovery, to me, doesn't mean being "healthy" or "normal" or even "not disordered". Recovery, at it's simplest, is just about learning who I am and how to be myself, and I am messy, disordered, mad - even while "recovered". The difference is not necessarily in my symptoms or my behavior (though I have touched on that topic before); I would consider myself recovered without any of that.

Primarily, the difference between the me that exists now and the me that existed pre-recovery is that I have come to know myself very well, and even love myself very much, something I'd never had before. I even love my madness, most days. I have more tools to care for myself and to advocate for myself and others. I have more ability to help others in my community and I have a far stronger grasp on what has happened to me, and I can put these skills towards creating change. I now have the language - the words - to talk about it.

Recovery is a very charged word; so I will use it with care.

[kadextra]

[yzzart]

I read your stuff for Dante and ohmegosh!! Just the kind of fluff one can enjoy after a grueling day ^-^

If you're still interested in Scenarios, how about one where his girl is in danger?

I don't know, I just can't help but picture a scary calm Dante going in to save his girl (maybe even angry enough to activate Devil Trigger) and his girl, safe, if not still freaked out- sees he's still angry, and tries to crack a joke just to help bring her boy back down from the rage- then him just laughing weakly at her joke before pulling her in for a tight but still gentle hug

WANNA KEEP ON ROLLIN', BABY! ── DANTE

── content warnings: F!reader, reference to the anime, mention of Devil Trigger and Sparda, words mentioning violence, jokes and puns.

── word count: 824!

They came to you. — Capable of being neglected, wicked to execute any malevolence, cruelty for exultation, will; sustaining the pure hatred that ran in their blood and determined and unwilling to spread torture and killing to anyone. — And with the assistance of an organization.

It was funny, ironic, in that case, that the characteristics mentioned could, without thinking, fit DARKCOM. — And Dante suspected, knew, that they influenced his location to those damned ones.

The so-called “Lieutenant Arkham” mentioned your name in Dante’s ears as she unnaturally tried to kill him. — She expressed and articulated questions related to you, without conveying the disgust and anger she felt for the demon hunter. — This man held himself back from ripping off, at the very least, her skin entirely.

You have been kidnapped. — Involved, attached to an ambush and enduring, being subjected, to the role of hostage; trying not to go crazy, to convey a horrified and weak reaction. — The weird and wretched white rabbit warned that he would stab the half-demon's weaknesses; from the amulet to the woman he loves.

Sparda's son — a reality that would need time to gain recognition — would not make his father's mistake, leaving and causing the lack of protection and death of his wife. — Even if that means eternal destiny in the underworld or the end of possible humanity.

Damn, that would be, respectfully, extraordinary with a soundtrack in the background. — He couldn't help but think; that was so cheesy, it was Dante's kind of thing.

These things, uttered by the merciless mouth of the disproportionate easter bunny, of “devil trigger” or “true form” that ran through Dante sounded like pure nonsense; something that he, even being a dumb chatterbox, would not think. — Until they revealed themselves to him, they reciprocated his fury, hatred and transformed him into a certain creature that he did not recognize. — However, he feared that his appearance could be a part of who Sparda was.

Dante never saw, verified — or created, relatively, with his imagination and creativity — the true appearance of Sparda; obviously, he heard stories or narratives about him. — But, he heard from those stupid brutes that he looked like the traitorous demon.

Deep down, if he ended up alive, he would delve deeper, searching with efficiency and interest, into the true story of his father. — Without having something trustworthy, or a living witness who wouldn't want to end his skin, Dante would have a long road ahead. — Everyone wanted a piece of him, what a desired man.

Recovering his honesty with himself, Dante only hoped that you would get used to his new image; and he hoped that you would like it too. — He has wings, rocky structures of pure red and lava predominated his body, horns and eyes, terribly, yellow. — It was still him.

It was still Dante.

“Dante?” — ​​Your voice determined strangeness, at the same time, fascination and not insinuating a panic or disgust of the demonic creature before your eyes; carrying an impetuous composure in the environment, which was, totally, destroyed. — “I can’t believe it…?”

“In flesh, bone and claws.” — The altered voice, barely recognized, conveyed feigned enthusiasm, displacing the fury of the previous moment, the man suggested a pun. — “It’s all kind of new to me.” — He tilted his head, feeling the weight of the horns; Dante was taller, not that it changed anything between the height difference between you before his transformation. — “Very new, actually.”

It was recognizable, and somewhat indescribable, that there was a deep mixture of emotions rising in Dante's chest; just as his voice determined frustration and bitter anger. — A disturbance that he began to feel the first second his amulet was taken from him. — And they had almost done the same thing to you.

Sliding your eyes over your boyfriend's robust and impressive, hellish body, you captured lines, reminiscent of lava, shining as he breathed; enraged reactions remained in Dante. — You couldn't judge him, but you also couldn't leave him like that.

“At least you won’t have to worry about transportation, will you?” — Not knowing what to actually do to help him, you had to use his own weapon: his lame puns. — “Is it faster than a plane, big boy?” — ​​You were referring to the wings, which made Dante’s body like his coat.

Sparda's son laughed, exclaiming a sudden and sharp laugh, making your skin crawl as he listened and he could not believe that you would be subject to consuming your comedian side at a time like this.

“I don’t know, ma'aam.” — He moved his body, showing off, and with reason and without problems, your eyes contemplated more than they should, planning something. — “Do you want to find out for yourself?” — Taking control and opening his wings, signaling that he was about to take you out of there, Dante suggested putting the plan into practice. — "Why don’t demons fly first class?"

Yeah, Dante was still Dante.

[sadnymi]

Mastermind

[Mattheo riddle x reader]

Summary: Lady Whistledown and Gossip Girl [ Hogwarts Version] had taken the school by storm. Every week, spoken letters delivered the latest rumors, and things were getting out of control. Y/N had finally had enough, especially when the latest gossip claimed she was dating Mattheo Riddle. Frustrated and determined to put an end to it, she went to Mattheo, asking for his help in uncovering the person behind the relentless rumors and stopping them once and for all.

Words: 15k

Warnings : fluff, smut smut smut don’t read in public you have been warning , biker boy mattheo [yes a warning] , a little angst, fluff .

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**The Daily Whisperer: Hogwarts Edition**

_Issue #47: The Gossip of the Week_

Hogwarts is buzzing with the latest speculation surrounding two of our most enigmatic students. You guessed it—Y/N Y/L/N and Mattheo Riddle.

Rumor has it that sparks are flying between these two, and if they aren't already an item, then Merlin’s beard, they definitely should be! A sighting in the library, some lingering glances in Potions class, and let’s not forget that mysterious detention they both just _happened_ to land in last week. Could this be the beginning of a legendary Hogwarts love story? But that's not all! This week’s flying letters brought us another sizzling scoop: Y/N was seen practicing dueling spells with Mattheo, and let's just say, the sparks were flying—literally. Could this be a sign of something more than just friendly competition? Stay tuned, dear readers. We’re on the case!

In other news, Y/N has been making waves not just in the rumor mill but in the academic arena as well. This ( whatever house you’re in, darling Y/N!) has been impressing professors and students alike with her spellwork and potions prowess. Is there anything she can't do? We'll keep you posted on her latest achievements and, of course, any further developments in her relationship status with a certain handsome Slytherin.

Until next time, keep your wands at the ready and your ears to the ground!

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I could feel the heat of a hundred eyes on me as I stormed through the hallways, clutching the latest edition of "Hogwarts Whispers" in my hand. My anger was palpable, a tangible force pushing people aside as they gawked at me. As I turned a corner, a group of Hufflepuffs quickly scattered, clearly not wanting to be on the receiving end of my wrath. My anger flared hotter. Who had the nerve to spread such nonsense? And why did it have to be always about _me_?

Finally, I spotted him. Mattheo Riddle stood by the entrance to the Great Hall, casually leaning against the wall like he didn’t have a care in the world, his dark hair falling effortlessly into place as he exchanged easy banter with his friends. Typical.

I marched up to him, my footsteps echoing off the stone walls. His friends wisely took a step back as I approached, but he merely glanced over at me with that infuriating smirk of his, clearly amused by my arrival.

“Riddle,” I said, my voice clipped.

“Y/L/N,” he replied, raising an eyebrow in a way that made it impossible to tell if he was mocking me or just genuinely interested.

“We need to talk.”

His smirk widened, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “We need to talk?”

I huffed in frustration. “You didn’t read what that freak wrote today?”

“No,” he said slowly, his eyes scanning my face for any clue. “But does that have anything to do with why people are looking at us like we are about to say our vows?”

Resisted the urge to roll my eyes, instead grabbing his hand and pulling him down the hallway. “Come on.”

He chuckled under his breath, clearly enjoying the situation more than he should. But I didn’t care. I wasn’t about to have this conversation in front of the entire school. The last thing I needed was to give those gossipy little owls more fuel for their fire.

I could feel his gaze on me as we walked, his hand warm in mine, and for a brief, fleeting moment, I wondered if there was any truth to what they’d written.

But I shoved that thought aside as we reached a secluded corner. I had a bone to pick with him, and I wasn’t about to let a few stray butterflies distract me.

“What are we going to do about this?” I demanded as soon as we were out of earshot of anyone else.

He just grinned, clearly unfazed. “What do you mean, Y/N? Sounds like we’re the hottest topic in school.”

My glare deepened. “This isn’t funny, Mattheo.”

“Maybe not.”

“This is absolute bullshit!” I fumed, waving the gossip letter around like it was cursed. “Why would anyone write this? Why is it always about me? Every. Single. Week!”

Mattheo leaned casually against the wall, his arms crossed, watching me with that maddening smile on his face. He didn’t seem the least bit concerned, which only fueled my irritation further.

“And then they say I’m dating you?” I threw the letter on a desk, feeling my pulse racing. “Are they insane? Where do they even get this stuff?”

He chuckled, that deep, velvety sound that always seemed to get under my skin. “I’m trying so hard not to take that personally, princess.”

I shot him a glare. “Shut up, Riddle.”

But he didn’t stop smiling, just kept leaning against the wall, looking at me like he was thoroughly enjoying the show. My frustration bubbled over. “Why are you so calm about this? This is serious! People are staring at us in the hallways! It’s like they’ve all got nothing better to do than imagine some ridiculous romance between us.”

“Well,” he drawled, pushing off the wall and taking a few steps toward me, “can you blame them? You’re not exactly easy to ignore, Y/N.”

I rolled my eyes, exasperated. “This isn’t funny. We need to find out who’s behind this, and you’re going to help me.”

Mattheo pushed himself off the wall, taking a step closer to me. "You want me to help you track down the identity of…" he paused, a playful glint in his eyes, "Madam Matchmaker?"

"Yes," I said, narrowing my eyes. "Would you do that?"

He leaned in, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "I would never say no to my girlfriend."

"Shut up, Riddle." I stared at him, my heart skipping a beat despite the anger still boiling inside me. "I’m not your girlfriend," I insisted, my voice lacking the conviction I’d hoped for.

He raised an eyebrow, his expression smug. "That’s not what the whole school is saying."

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t ignore the way his words sent a shiver down my spine. "Shut up, Riddle."

"Don't you see how ridiculous this is?" I asked, exasperated.

He tilted his head, still not breaking eye contact. "Oh, I see it, alright. But I've got to admit, I don't mind being linked to you, Y/N. It gives me an excuse to spend more time with you."

"Shut up, Riddle."

He laughed, leaning closer, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. "You know, if you keep telling me to shut up, I might just have to find another way to occupy my mouth."

"You… you’re —-!"

"And yet, here you are, asking me for help. You must like something about me, Y/N."

I huffed, crossing my arms over my chest. "I like the idea of you doing something useful for once. Now, are you going to help me or not?"

He straightened up, still smiling but with a more serious glint in his eyes. "Of course I’ll help you. But you owe me one."

"Fine," I grumbled, though I couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at the corners of my mouth.

The next day, I stormed into the Great Hall, clutching a rolled-up piece of parchment in my hand. I barely noticed the whispers that trailed behind me as I made a beeline for the Slytherin table, my eyes locking onto Mattheo, who was lounging back in his seat, looking completely unbothered by the chaos swirling around us.

I slammed the parchment down in front of him, making a few Slytherins glance over in curiosity.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“It’s a list,” I said, taking a seat across from him and ignoring the way his friends were watching us with interest. “A list of suspects. I’ve narrowed it down to a few possibilities, and we need to figure out who’s responsible.”

Mattheo’s eyes flicked to the parchment, then back to me, clearly intrigued. “Go on.”

I pointed to the first name on the list. “First, there’s Carla knight. She’s always had it out for me ever since that incident in Potions last year. You know, she’s been looking for a way to get back at me ever since, she’s petty enough to spread rumors, and she’s got the connections to get them published.”

“True,” Mattheo mused, leaning back in his chair. “But Carla’s too obvious, don’t you think? She’s not exactly subtle.”

“Maybe,” I conceded, moving on to the next name. “Then there’s John Gary. He’s always been the quiet type, but that just makes him more dangerous. He’s close to the source, and he’s smart enough to cover his tracks.”

Mattheo nodded, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Interesting."

"What about Lavender Brown? She’s always gossiping, and she’s got this diary she carries around everywhere. What if she’s the one writing this stuff down and sending it off to ‘Hogwarts Whispers’?"

"Lavender’s a possibility," Mattheo admitted, his eyes flicking back up to meet mine. "But she’s more into writing about her own love life than anyone else’s. I doubt she’d be focused enough to keep tabs on us."

I grumbled under my breath and tapped my quill against the parchment, staring at the remaining names. "Then who could it be? I’ve gone through almost everyone who’s likely to be involved in this kind of thing, and none of them make sense!"

Mattheo didn’t respond immediately, and I looked up to find him just staring at me, a small, almost secretive smile on his lips.

"What the hell are you doing? Were you even listening?" I demanded, feeling my frustration rise again.

His eyes flicked over my face, lingering on my lips for a moment before he finally spoke. "Oh, I was listening, princess. It’s just hard to focus when you’re looking so damn determined. It’s… distracting."

My heart did a little flip, but I shoved that feeling down and crossed my arms. "This is serious, Riddle. Someone is spreading lies about us, and you’re just sitting here, smirking like it’s all a joke."

He chuckled softly, his eyes still locked on mine. "I’m not laughing at you. I’m just appreciating how hard you’re trying to solve this little mystery. It’s kind of… sexy."

I felt my face heat up, but I wasn’t about to let him derail me. "Stop with the compliments, Mattheo. This is important."

"Sure."

"Shut up, Riddle. I’m serious."

"So am I," he said smoothly, leaning back in his seat, his gaze still locked on mine. "But if you want to focus on this little mystery instead of the much more interesting topic of us, then go ahead."

I rolled my eyes, trying to ignore the way his voice sent a shiver down my spine. "Fine. If you’re not going to help, then at least don’t make this harder than it already is."

Mattheo’s smirk grew as he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "You know, Y/N, there are easier ways to spend time with me than concocting elaborate schemes to solve a mystery that might not even have a culprit."

I blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in his tone. "What are you talking about?"

He shrugged casually, his eyes never leaving mine. "Maybe someone’s just trying to push us together, and it’s working. Ever thought about that?"

"Shut up, Riddle," I snapped, though my voice lacked its usual bite.

He chuckled, his gaze never leaving mine. "Only if you make me."

I reached out to smack his arm. "Stop acting like that. This is serious!"

In a flash, Mattheo’s hand shot out, catching my wrist with a firm but gentle grip. His smile was both mischievous and reassuring as he looked at me. "Alright, but only because you’re so charming when you’re worked up."

I pulled my wrist free, trying to hide the flush creeping up my cheeks. "Just—stop distracting me. I need to figure out who’s behind this before it gets any worse."

Mattheo leaned back, still watching me with that unnerving mixture of amusement and interest. "Indeed, lead the way. I’m all ears."

For the rest of the week, I was on a mission. Every day, I dragged Mattheo around the school, from the library to the common rooms, and even to the less frequented corners of the castle. Despite his usual nonchalance, Mattheo followed along without question, his only response being that knowing smile he always seemed to have when he was around me.

We spent hours poring over potential suspects, analyzing their motives, and investigating their whereabouts. Each time I got frustrated or hit a dead end, Mattheo would patiently listen, never interrupting, and only offering occasional comments that were either strangely insightful or just plain distracting.

As we walked through the dimly lit corridors of the castle, I finally vented my frustrations. "This is ridiculous. I’ve talked to nearly everyone I can think of, and no one seems to know anything. It’s like we’re running in circles."

Mattheo’s hand brushed against mine as he walked beside me, and I could feel the warmth of his touch even through our robes. "Maybe you’re looking too hard. Sometimes, the answer isn’t in what people say but in what they don’t."

I sighed, feeling the weight of the week’s frustration pressing down on me. "I just don’t get it. Why would someone target me like this?"

He glanced at me, his expression softening. "Maybe they’re trying to get a reaction out of you."

His words, though comforting, did little to ease my worries. I shook my head and kept walking, the silence between us stretching as we turned another corner. "I don’t know how you manage to stay so calm about all this. I’m losing my mind trying to figure this out."

"You’re doing great."

"Thanks, Mattheo."

He flashed me a reassuring smile. "Anytime. Besides, it’s been… interesting, spending all this time with you. I’d say it’s been the highlight of my week."

I raised an eyebrow, giving him a wry smile. "Oh, is that so? I’m glad to be your highlight, Riddle."

He grinned, his usual mischievous glint in his eye. "You should be. And if you ever need me to be a distraction! again, just let me know."

" I hope not."

As we turned another corner in the castle, Mattheo suddenly stopped, his expression shifting from his usual playful smirk to something more serious. "Go on a date with me."

I froze, staring at him in disbelief. "What?"

"You heard me," he said, leaning against the wall with that infuriatingly confident look on his face. "Let’s go on a date."

I blinked, trying to process his words. "Why would I—what are you even talking about? We’re supposed to be figuring out who’s spreading these rumors, not giving them more fuel for the fire!"

"Exactly," he replied smoothly, crossing his arms over his chest. "If we go on a date, we can see who’s watching us, who’s interested in what we’re doing. It’ll flush out the culprit. And with the weekend coming up, whoever’s behind this will be desperate for more gossip to spread. We’ll be able to figure it out, Y/N."

I shook my head, utterly incredulous. "Absolutely not. I’m not going on a date with you."

"Why not?" he asked, his smirk returning as he stepped closer, his presence as magnetic as ever. "It’s the perfect plan. We’ll be able to spot who’s paying too much attention to us."

"Because," I stammered, feeling my heart race as he closed the distance between us, "it’s ridiculous! You’re just trying to mess with me. I know you, Mattheo. You don’t actually care about solving this, you just want to—"

"Want to what?" he interrupted, his voice low and teasing. "Think about it, Y/N. We go out, see who’s watching, think of it as an experiment. A way to gather evidences. You like evidence, don’t you?"

"I’m not going on a date with you. I refuse to give these gossips exactly what they want. I’m not some pawn in their game, and I’m certainly not going to parade around with you just to see who’s got their eyes on us."

He just kept smiling, his eyes locked onto mine with that infuriatingly calm, knowing look. "You keep telling yourself that, but deep down, you know it’s the best way to figure this out."

"No," I insisted, my voice rising slightly. "There’s no way I’m doing it. This is absurd, and I’m not falling for it. You’re just trying to—"

"Trying to what?" he echoed, taking another step closer until I could feel the warmth of his breath on my skin.

I glared at him, trying to ignore the way my pulse quickened. "Shut up, Riddle."

He didn’t move, his smirk widening as his gaze held mine. "You tell me to shut up again, and I will kiss the fuck out of you, princess."

I froze, my breath catching in my throat. "What?"

"You heard me," he said, his voice smooth and deliberate, his eyes never leaving mine. "That’s the deal. You say it again, and I won’t hold back."

My face felt like it was on fire, and I could barely form a coherent thought as his words sank in. "You—you’re insane."

"Maybe," he replied, his voice low and full of intent. "But I always get what I want. And right now, what I want is to figure this out—with you."

I swallowed hard, my heart racing as I tried to gather my thoughts. "This is ridiculous."

"Is it?" he asked, tilting his head slightly, his gaze still locked onto mine. "Or is it just that you’re afraid you might actually enjoy it?"

I stared at him, my mind spinning as I tried to come up with a response. But the truth was, I was too flustered to think straight. His confidence, his intensity—it was overwhelming.

"This is stupid," I muttered, trying to muster up some semblance of defiance.

"That’s not a ‘no’."

I glared at him, my heart pounding in my chest. "But this is strictly for the sake of finding out who’s behind the rumors."

Mattheo’s grin widened. "Of course, princess. Strictly business."

I crossed my arms, trying to keep a lid on the flurry of emotions swirling inside me. "You have to behave, Riddle. No funny business, no flirting. Just… business."

"I’ll be on my best behavior."

I raised an eyebrow, trying to gauge if he was being sincere or just playing me. "Somehow, I doubt that."

He chuckled, leaning in slightly saying in a mocking tone. "Your doubt wounds me, Y/N. My favorite thing to do is to be a good boy for you."

I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t suppress the small smile tugging at my lips. "Sure, whatever you say."

"So," he continued, ignoring my skepticism, "tomorrow, then?"

I hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah, tomorrow."

Mattheo’s gaze softened, though his smirk remained firmly in place. "Don’t be nervous. And try not to think about me too much tonight."

I scoffed, giving him a withering look. "In your dreams, Riddle."

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low, husky murmur. "Oh, believe me, darling. You’re in my dreams every night. But we’re not just talking in them."

My face burned as I smacked his arm again, harder this time. "I’m going to just kill you someday and stop the rumors you’re insufferable, you know that?"

He just laughed, clearly enjoying himself far too much. "And yet, you keep coming back for more."

"I don’t have a choice," I shot back, starting to walk toward my dormitory with him following close behind.

"Ah, but you do," he said smoothly, keeping pace with me. "And you’re choosing to be here with me. Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?"

I ignored him, focusing on the corridor ahead, even as I felt his gaze lingering on me.

We walked in silence for a moment before he spoke again, his voice soft and teasing. "You know, tomorrow’s going to be fun. You’ll see."

I rolled my eyes, still facing forward. "If by ‘fun’ you mean torturous, then sure."

Mattheo’s laughter echoed through the corridor, warm and rich. "Torturous for you, maybe. But for me? It’ll be heaven."

I stopped in front of my dormitory, turning to face him. "This is where we part ways."

He stepped closer, his eyes gleaming with that familiar mischief. "For now. But you know, you can always invite me in if you’re feeling lonely."

Pushing him away lightly I said. "Not a chance, Riddle."

He grinned, completely unfazed. "Worth a shot."

I gave him a look, and for once, he seemed to back down. "Alright, alright. Sleep well, Y/N. And try not to think too much about tomorrow. Or about me."

I slammed the door shut in his face, cutting off his words, but I could still hear his low chuckle from the other side. Then I leaned against the door, trying to steady my racing heart.

I don’t know what’s happening to me. I’ve been on plenty of dates before, so why does this one feel different? I’ve had Quidditch players asking me out, and even the prince of Eldoria once tried his luck, but none of that made me feel as nervous as I am right now. And this isn’t even a real date. It’s just a… mission, right?

I stared at the mess of clothes strewn across my room, feeling utterly lost. Is this too much? Will I be overdressed if I wear it? Or is this too casual? And I can’t stop thinking about him—nope, we won’t do that. We won’t think about him or what he’s going to wear. Or not wear. No, absolutely not. We are not thinking about him without clothes. That can’t happen. I can’t stand Mattheo, right?

But why? Why can’t I stand him? I can’t remember anymore. Maybe it’s because he makes me feel so damn nervous? And I hate that. I hate losing control. I love having control over everything, and Merlin knows he wasn’t helping with that. It’s like every cell in my body is screaming, and I mean every single one.

I finally settled on a small black dress, letting my hair fall naturally around my shoulders. I added a touch of makeup and a simple necklace, convincing myself that I was doing this for me. It’s a good chance to get dressed up and look good—to myself, right? I always do. I’m a fashion icon, and I always dress well. Not for any certain someone with beautiful eyes and hair and a body that—nope, stop it, Y/N. We’re not going there.

I took a deep breath and walked out of my dorm, only to find Mattheo standing just outside my door, hand raised as if he was about to knock. He was dressed all in black, and oh, Merlin, that shirt was doing things to me.

His eyes slowly raking up and down my body. He wasn’t even trying to hide that he was looking, and when his gaze finally reached my face, it lingered on my lips before meeting my eyes.

"Matching," he said, a smirk playing on his lips.

I rolled my eyes, trying to ignore the flutter in my stomach. "You always wear black or gray, It’s hardly a coincidence Mattheo."

His smirk widened as he took a step closer. "Oh, baby, so you were trying to match with me?"

"What? Of course not!" I shot back, but my voice sounded less convincing than I would’ve liked. He laughed, clearly enjoying my discomfort.

I glared at him, crossing my arms. "If you don’t stop, I’m going back inside and forgetting about this so-called date,"

He raised his hands in mock surrender, still grinning. "Okay, okay, I’m sorry. You look stunning, Y/N. Absolutely breathtaking. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to focus on anything but you tonight."

I rolled my eyes again, though I could feel my cheeks heating up. "You’re so insufferable."

"And you’re so beautiful," he replied smoothly, taking my hand in his. "Now come on. Let’s get out of here."

I allowed him to lead me out of the castle, my heart pounding harder with every step. "Where are we going?"

"You’ll see," he said, a hint of mischief in his voice. "I promise it’s something you’ll like."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "If you’re up to something, Riddle, I swear—"

"Oh, I’m definitely up to something," he replied, his voice dropping to a low murmur as he glanced over at me, his eyes darkening slightly. "But I think you’ll enjoy it. Maybe even more than you expect."

My breath caught in my throat, and I tried to keep my voice steady. "You’re not fooling anyone, you know."

"Who said I was trying to fool you?" he shot back, his grip on my hand tightening slightly.

I tried to ignore the way his words made my pulse quicken. "You’re being annoyingly cryptic, you know that?"

"It’s part of my charm," he replied , his thumb brushing lightly over the back of my hand. "And besides, it’s worth the suspense, don’t you think?"

I looked at him, trying to maintain some semblance of composure. "I think you’re enjoying this far too much."

He chuckled, his eyes darkening with a mischievous glint. "Oh, I am. But don’t pretend you aren’t, too."

As Mattheo led me down the dimly lit corridor, I couldn't help but notice the way his thumb was now tracing small circles on the back of my hand. The warmth of his touch sent shivers up my spine, and I fought to keep my thoughts from spiraling out of control.

My breath hitched slightly, but I forced myself to stay calm. "You’re really pushing it, Riddle."

"And you love it," he shot back, his voice dropping to a whisper as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against my ear.

I pushed him away pretending to be annoyed it’s actually better to show him that I was so turned on. "Let’s just get this over with."

“Where are we going?” I asked, trying to inject some firmness into my voice, though it came out softer than I intended.

Mattheo glanced at me, a slow, almost predatory smile spreading across his lips. “Patience, darling."

I opened my mouth to retort, but the words got caught in my throat. The cool night air hit me like a wave, but it did little to quell the heat burning inside me.

“You look like you’re trying really hard not to think about what I’m going to do to you tonight,” he whispered, his voice low and teasing.

I froze, my heart skipping a beat. “What… what are you talking about?”

He chuckled softly, pulling me closer until our bodies were nearly touching. “Oh, come on, Y/N. Don’t pretend you haven’t thought about it. About what it would feel like.”

My breath hitched, and I couldn’t stop the rush of heat that flooded my body at his words. This wasn’t happening. I wasn’t letting him get to me like this. But when he stepped closer, his hand resting lightly on my hip, I could barely think straight.

“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I stammered, though it was clear even to me that I was lying.

“Liar,” he whispered, his lips brushing against my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. “You’ve been thinking about it. And the best part? So have I.”

I blinked up at him, trying to form a coherent response when he suddenly smirked and pointed behind me. “Relax, darling. I was talking about the ride I’m going to give you tonight.”

I followed his gaze and saw a sleek black motorcycle parked nearby. “Wait… what?” I breathed out, my heart still racing.

His smirk deepened, and he raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing in his eyes. “What were _you_ thinking about?”

“Nothing!” I shot back, far too quickly.

“Uh-huh,” he said, clearly not buying it. He started walking toward the bike, and I followed, my steps hesitant.

“What the hell is that?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at the motorcycle as if it had personally offended me.

He looked at me with exaggerated innocence. “This? It’s a bike. You know, that thing with two wheels that goes vroom?”

I glared at him, my patience wearing thin. “I know exactly what it is. I’m asking why you’re near it.”

He leaned against the bike, looking far too smug for his own good."Because we’re taking it for a ride, obviously."

“Mattheo, you didn’t… Where did you even get this from?” I asked, crossing my arms.

He grinned mischievously. “Stole it.”

My eyes widened, and I took a step back, ready to bolt. But then he laughed, shaking his head. “Kidding, darling. Just get on.”

I stared at him for a moment, debating whether I should turn around and walk back inside. But something about the way he was looking at me—challenging, teasing—made me pause. I cursed under my breath and reluctantly walked over to the bike.

As I approached, I couldn’t help but curse myself for wearing a dress. Of all nights, why did I choose tonight to be impractical? I awkwardly tried to swing my leg over the bike, careful not to flash him.

“Need some help there?”

“I’ve got it,” I snapped, finally managing to get on the bike without embarrassing myself too much.

He turned to face me, and suddenly, he was so close I could feel his breath on my face. His hands reached up, and he gently placed a helmet on my head, securing the strap under my chin. The simple act was far more intimate than it had any right to be, and I found myself holding my breath.

“You might want to hold on to me,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with suggestion.

I hesitated for a second, then wrapped my arms around his waist, feeling the solid warmth of him beneath my hands. “If you crash this thing, I’m killing you,” I muttered against his back.

He chuckled, the sound vibrating through me. “Don’t worry, darling. I’ve got you.”

he started the bike, the engine roaring to life beneath us. I tightened my grip on him as we took off, the wind whipping through my hair. The cool night air rushed past us, but all I could focus on was the heat radiating from Mattheo’s body, the way his muscles tensed and flexed as he maneuvered the bike through the darkened streets.

“Enjoying yourself back there?” he called over the sound of the wind.

I rolled my eyes, even though he couldn’t see it. “Just keep your eyes on the road, Riddle.”

He laughed again, but there was a dark edge to it that sent a shiver down my spine. “Oh, I am. But I can’t help but think about how good you feel pressed up against me.”

My cheeks burned, and I was grateful he couldn’t see my face. “Shut up, Mattheo.”

" careful baby remember our deal?"

“Mattheo—”

“ Yes,princess?"

" don’t open your mouth please."

He laughed " Why? You don’t like it when I talk about how your hands feel on me? Or how I can feel every little movement you make?”

“No—”

“Or maybe it’s the way you’re clinging to me right now,” he continued, his voice dropping lower, more seductive. “Like you can’t get close enough. Like you don’t want this ride to end.”

I bit my lip, trying to ignore the way his words were making my heart race even faster. He was doing this on purpose, and damn him, it was working.

“Don’t get too full of yourself,” I shot back, but my voice lacked the bite I intended.

He slowed the bike down slightly, and I felt him lean back just enough to speak directly into my ear. “Too late for that, darling. You’re driving me crazy.”

My breath caught, and I tightened my grip on him, unsure if it was to steady myself or if it was because part of me wanted him to pull over.

“Mattheo…” I warned, but my voice was weak, trembling.

He chuckled, the sound dark and promising. “Relax."

Every time he took a sharp turn or sped up, my grip on him tightened, and he would laugh softly, his voice full of that infuriating confidence. “You sure you’re not nervous?”

“I’m sure,” I replied, though my heart was racing for more reasons than just the speed of the bike.

“Good.”

As Mattheo slowed the bike to a stop, I looked around and felt a jolt of unease settle in my stomach. The area was dimly lit, with groups of people loitering around, looking like trouble. The girls wore little more than scraps of fabric, their heavy makeup making their eyes look like dark smudges in the faint light. The guys weren’t any better—tough, dangerous, and clearly up to no good.

I turned to Mattheo, my voice tinged with irritation and confusion. “What the hell, Mattheo?”

He smirked, swinging his leg off the bike. “What? I thought you’d appreciate something different from the fancy dates you’re used to. Oh, remind me again, where did Prince Edward take you to?”

“He didn’t,” I snapped back, dismounting the bike as gracefully as possible while trying to keep my dress in place. “Because I turned the date down.”

Mattheo’s grin widened, a mocking edge to it. “How bad for him.”

I rolled my eyes, glancing around nervously. “There’s no one from school here, right? I mean, how is the gossip mill going to work if they don’t notice us?”

He leaned against the bike, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Oh, they won’t.”

“Excuse me?” I shot back, incredulous.

He laughed, shaking his head. “They’ll be more likely to be notice here than some fancy place, don’t you think?”

I frowned but nodded reluctantly. “Probably, yeah. Any normal person would feel so out of place here.”

I was about to step off the bike when I felt his hands suddenly on my hips, his grip firm. “No, not like that, princess.”

“What?” I managed to say, my voice coming out in a breathless whisper as he effortlessly swung off the bike first. Then, without warning, he placed his hands on my waist again and lifted me off the bike as if I weighed nothing.

“I wouldn’t want anyone to get a look at the show I had a minutes ago,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down my spine.

My face flushed crimson, and I struggled to maintain my composure as his hands stayed on my waist, guiding me toward the entrance. His touch was possessive, almost claiming, and I couldn’t help the thrill that shot through me despite the chaotic surroundings.

“So, do I need to keep my wand close?” I asked, half-joking, half-serious as we neared the group.

Mattheo chuckled, his breath warm against my ear. “You really think I’d let anything happen to you?”

As we walked through the crowd, people began to notice Mattheo, their eyes lighting up with recognition. A couple of guys came over, greeting him with casual nods and low murmurs.

“Riddle! Didn’t expect to see you here tonight,” one of them said, a tall guy with a crooked grin.

Another guy came up, clapping Mattheo on the back. “Good to see you, mate. Thought you’d ditched us for good.”

“Nah,” Mattheo replied casually. “Just been busy.”

“Yeah, thought you were too good for us these days,” another chimed in, smirking.

Mattheo just shrugged, his grip on my waist tightening slightly. “Can’t forget where I came from.”

Before I could process what that meant, a girl suddenly appeared, practically throwing herself at Mattheo. She had wild, dark hair and wore a top that could barely be called clothing. “Matty! I didn’t know you were coming tonight,” she purred, her hands already trailing over his chest. Then, she noticed me, her eyes narrowing as she looked me up and down, clearly sizing me up.

I met her gaze, lifting my chin defiantly as I looked her over. She was all beautiful and confidence, but something about her screamed desperate. I couldn’t help the surge of jealousy that flared in my chest. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” I snapped, crossing my arms.

The girl’s eyes widened in surprise, but she quickly recovered, her lips curling into a sneer. “Who’s this?” she asked Mattheo, her tone dripping with disdain.

Mattheo’s hand slid around my waist, pulling me closer to him. “She’s My girl,” he said simply, his voice cool and dismissive.

The girl’s eyes narrowed further as she gave me another once-over. I met her gaze head-on, refusing to back down. “Got a problem with that?” I asked, my tone sweet but laced with a clear challenge.

The girl hesitated for a moment, then forced a laugh, trying to play it off. “No, of course not,” she said, but her eyes were still cold. She turned back to Mattheo, trying to regain his attention. “I was just surprised, that’s all.”

“Well, now you know,” I said firmly, stepping closer to Mattheo as if staking my claim.

She shot me one last glare before reluctantly backing off, clearly realizing she wasn’t going to win this one. I watched her go, feeling oddly victorious, even as my heart pounded in my chest.

Mattheo’s low chuckle drew my attention back to him, and I looked up to find him watching me with an amused glint in his eyes. “Jealous, are we?”

“Absolutely not,” I retorted, though my face was still flushed.

“Right,” he drawled, clearly not believing me.

Mattheo guided me through the throngs of people, his hand never leaving my waist as we made our way toward a secluded area. The crowd seemed to part for him, everyone stepping aside as if they knew better than to get in his way. He led me to a corner of the warehouse where a small, dimly lit bar was nestled. The area was quieter, more exclusive, with plush leather couches and a polished wooden bar that gave it an air of importance.

“This is where the VIPs hang out?” I asked, raising an eyebrow as we stepped into the area. It was a stark contrast to the chaos outside—a private sanctuary within the madness.

Mattheo smirked, pulling out a barstool for me before taking a seat himself. “You could say that. Only those who matter get to hang out here.”

I settled onto the stool, trying to maintain some semblance of composure despite the flutter of nerves in my stomach. “And I’m guessing you’re one of those people?”

He chuckled, leaning in closer, his gaze locking onto mine. “What do you think, Princess?”

“I think you like making a scene wherever you go,” I shot back, trying to keep my tone light despite the way my heart was racing.

“Maybe,” he admitted, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

The bartender, a grizzled-looking man with a permanent scowl, approached us, his gaze flickering over me before settling on Mattheo.

“Riddle,” the bartender said in greeting, his voice gruff. “Been a while.”

“Hey, Greg,” Mattheo replied, his voice casual. “How’s business?”

Greg grunted, grabbing a glass and starting to mix a drink. “Same old, same old. You finally got yourself a date, eh?”

Mattheo chuckled, his hand still resting on my thigh. “Something like that.”

Greg's eyes flickered over to me again, his expression a mix of curiosity and skepticism. He took in my dress and my slightly flustered demeanor, a wry grin tugging at his mouth. “She's a fancy one, ain't she?” he commented, continuing to mix the drinks.

“Yeah, that’s for sure,” Mattheo agreed, his hand caressing my thigh. “But she’s all mine.”

I suppressed a shiver at the touch, trying to act as nonchalant as possible as I shot Mattheo a glare. He just smirked in response.

"Noted." Greg set our drinks down in front of us, a shot of dark liquor for Mattheo and something orange and frothy for me. “On the house,” he said gruffly, before moving to serve other customers.

"Can you tell me why those people know you? And how the hell are you so well-known like a famous celebrity here?"

Mattheo takes a sip of his drink, a smirk playing on his lips as he contemplates my question. “I wouldn’t say famous, darling. But I’ve spent a lot of time here... Let’s just say I know my way around.”

I raise an eyebrow skeptically. “That’s not a real answer.”

He grins, clearly enjoying my reaction. “Oh, it's a perfectly real answer. You just don't like it.”

"And what about this girl?" I ask, unable to keep the edge out of my voice.

“That’s Layla. She’s part of this crowd… a regular here, I guess you could say.”

“And you… know her well?”

He shrugs, his hand going back to rest on my thigh. “We’ve crossed paths a few times, yeah.”

There’s something in his tone that makes me pause, a flicker of jealousy stirring in my chest.

He takes another sip of his drink, avoiding my gaze for a moment. “You’re full of questions today, aren’t you?”

I scowl at his non-answer. “You’re the one who keeps avoiding them.”

He lets out a soft laugh, his hand tracing lazy circles on my thigh. “I just like seeing you get all worked up, princess.”

“So what’s your definition of crossing paths?” I ask, pressing him further.

He pauses, seeming to consider his words carefully. “Layla and I have... hooked up a few times. Nothing serious, just casual stuff.”

My heart sinks, a mix of jealousy and disappointment flickering inside me. I try to mask it, though, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much it bothered me.

“And what about now? Is she still in the picture?”

His hand tightens slightly on my thigh, and I feel him tense for a moment. Then he turns his head slightly, his lips almost brushing mine as he answers, “No, she’s not.”

“Good,” I say, trying to keep my tone light, “because this whole act would be a lot less convincing if you were involved with more than one girl.”

Mattheo chuckles, the sound low and rich, as his fingers tighten their grip on my thigh, sending a jolt of electricity up my spine. “And here I thought you were just in this for the show,” he murmurs, his voice laced with amusement and something darker, more seductive.

“I am,” I say, my voice steady despite the rapid thudding of my heart. “But even in an act, there are rules.”

“Rules, huh?” He leans in closer, his lips brushing the shell of my ear as he speaks, his breath warm against my skin. “And what are those rules, princess?”

I bite my lip, fighting the urge to close the distance between us. I need to stay in control, to remind myself that this is just an act. “Like keeping your hands to yourself,” I whisper, but the words come out more breathless than I intended.

He chuckles again, a dark, knowing sound. “But where’s the fun in that?”

His hand slides further up my thigh, and I can feel the heat radiating from his body. My pulse quickens, and I struggle to maintain my composure.

“We’re supposed to be pretending,” I manage to say, my voice betraying the strain of keeping up the facade.

“Are we?” His lips graze the corner of my mouth, his words a challenge, daring me to keep up the pretense.

I turn my head slightly, our noses nearly touching, my breath mingling with his. “Yes,” I whisper, but it’s clear neither of us believes it anymore.

“So, just an act?” he repeats, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down my spine.

I nod, barely managing to keep my composure. “Just an act,” I reply, though the words feel like a lie.

He tilts his head, his lips dangerously close to mine. “But we might as well convince them, right?” His tone is teasing, but there’s a fire in his eyes that says he’s not playing anymore.

I should pull away, tell him no, remind him that this is all part of the charade. But I can’t. My resolve crumbles as I look into his eyes, the intensity there pulling me in, refusing to let go.

“Right,” I whisper, my voice betraying me.

Before I can take another breath, his mouth was on mine, claiming me with a possessiveness that made my breath hitch. His lips moved against mine, slow and deliberate, like he was savoring every second of it. Then, his teeth tugged on my lower lip, and I gasped, giving him the opening he needed.

His tongue slipped inside, tasting and teasing, coaxing mine into a heated dance that left me dizzy. The kiss was all-consuming, each stroke of his tongue demanding a response that I couldn’t help but give. It wasn’t just a kiss; it was a declaration, a promise of everything he could make me feel.

Mattheo’s hand slid up my back, pulling me closer until I was practically melting into him. He sucked on my lower lip, pulling it between his teeth before releasing it with a soft, wet pop. The sound sent a shiver down my spine, and I found myself pressing closer, needing more of him, of this.

“Good girl,” he murmured against my lips, the praise like gasoline to the fire already burning inside me. The words sent a rush of warmth straight to my core, and I couldn’t stop the soft whimper that escaped my throat.

His hands were everywhere—on my hips, my waist, tracing the curve of my spine—as he guided me to straddle his lap. The shift in position made me acutely aware of the hardness pressing against me, a reminder of just how much he wanted this, wanted me.

“Such a good girl for me,” he whispered, his lips trailing down my neck, sucking and biting just enough to leave a mark. His words were a drug, intoxicating and impossible to resist. I could feel the heat pooling low in my belly, a need so intense it was almost painful.

“Mattheo,” I breathed, my hands threading through his hair, pulling him closer, needing him to take more, to give more.

He groaned, the sound vibrating against my skin as his hands gripped my hips, guiding me to grind against him. The friction was maddening, each roll of my hips sending waves of pleasure through me that made it hard to think, hard to breathe.

“You like that?” he asked, his voice rough, laced with a hunger that made my heart race.

“Yes,” I gasped, my nails digging into his shoulders as I rocked against him, desperate for more. His hands moved to my ass, squeezing as he guided my movements, his lips capturing mine again in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was raw, primal, a clash of tongues and teeth that left me trembling in his arms.

“Good girl,” he repeated, his voice thick with desire as his hands slid under my dress, tracing the edges of my panties. “Such a good girl for me.” The praise was almost too much, his mouth was on mine, sending a fresh wave of heat through my body as I arched into him, needing him to do something, anything to relieve the ache between my thighs.

Reality crashed down on me like a cold wave, dousing the fire that had been raging between us. I was kissing Mattheo Riddle—not just kissing him, but grinding against him in a dark, dingy bar, losing control in a way that was so unlike me.

Breathless, I shook my head, my hands still resting on his chest, but I pushed him away just enough to create space between us. “We shouldn’t,” I whispered, my voice trembling with the effort to regain control.

“Why not?” he murmured.

His hands remained on my hips, firm but not forceful, as if he knew I could—and might—pull away at any moment.

“It’s wrong,” I said, though even as the words left my mouth, they felt hollow. Wrong didn’t even begin to cover the tangled mess of emotions inside me.

“It feels so right to me,” he countered, his voice low.

“That’s the problem,” I whispered, my resolve wavering as I felt the heat of his body so close to mine, the pull of his gaze making it almost impossible to think clearly. I was losing myself, losing the control I prided myself on, every time I was near him.

“Mattheo, I want to go,” I said, my voice firmer this time, though the longing in me betrayed how much I wanted to stay, to give in.

He nodded, understanding flickering in his eyes as he stood up, his hand falling away from my thigh. He kept close to me as we made our way out of the bar, his presence a constant, protective shield, yet he didn’t touch me. And damn, I hated that—hated how much I wanted him to touch me, to feel his hands on me again, even as I knew I shouldn’t.

We reached his bike, and he stood between me and the prying eyes of anyone passing by, shielding me as I climbed on. He still didn’t touch me, and it was driving me insane, the absence of his touch making me crave it even more. I hated myself for it, for wanting him so badly that it was all I could think about.

He climbed on the bike in front of me, starting the engine with a low rumble. My hands automatically went to his waist, and as soon as I made contact, it was like an electric current shot through me. My mind was a mess, a chaotic whirl of thoughts and emotions, and my body—oh, my body—was screaming for more, for him.

I clenched my hands tighter around him, trying to focus, trying to breathe, but the tension inside me was unbearable. The battle raging within me, between what I wanted and what I knew was right, was tearing me apart.

“Stop, Mattheo,” I blurted out, my voice cutting through the night.

He didn’t respond at first, but I felt his body tense under my hands. “What?” he asked, his voice tight, uncertain.

“I said stop,” I repeated, louder this time, and he immediately pulled the bike over to the side of the road, the engine cutting off with a final, ominous growl.

We were on a dark, deserted forest road, the trees casting long, eerie shadows under the moonlight. I got off the bike quickly, putting distance between us, trying to get a grip on the whirlwind of emotions inside me. I walked a few steps away, the cool night air doing nothing to calm the fire burning inside me.

I turned around, my breath catching in my throat as I saw him, standing there, taking off his helmet. His eyes were on me, intense, questioning, filled with something that made my heart race all over again.

Before I knew what I was doing, I was running back to him, my resolve crumbling to dust. I crashed into him, my hands fisting in his shirt as I pulled him down to me, my lips finding his with a desperation I couldn’t control.

His response was immediate, his hands flying to my waist, gripping me tightly as he kissed me back with a fierce, raw passion that left me breathless. His lips moved against mine with a hunger that matched my own, devouring, claiming me in a way that made my knees weak.

He lifted me effortlessly, placing me on the bike with my back against the handlebars, my legs on either side of him as he stepped between them, his body pressing into mine. The cold metal of the bike contrasted sharply with the heat of his body, the hard, unyielding surface beneath me a stark reminder of how exposed, how vulnerable I was.

But I didn’t care. I was beyond caring. I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him closer, needing to feel every inch of him against me, needing him to take away the ache that was consuming me from the inside out.

His hands roamed over me, possessive, claiming, as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against mine in a way that made me moan into his mouth. He was everywhere—his touch, his taste, his scent—overwhelming my senses until there was nothing left but him.

“Mattheo,” I breathed against his lips, my hands sliding up to cup his face, holding him to me as if letting go would mean losing him forever.

He growled low in his throat, the sound vibrating against my lips as he pulled back slightly, his eyes burning into mine, dark and wild. “You don’t know what you do to me,” he murmured, his voice rough with barely restrained desire.

“Then show me,” I whispered, my voice trembling, both a challenge and a plea.

And he did. His hands moved down to my hips, gripping me firmly as he pulled me closer, his lips descending on mine once more, claiming me, possessing me. The kiss was hard, demanding, every stroke of his tongue, every nip of his teeth, sending shockwaves through me that left me breathless, trembling in his arms.

his hand tracing a teasing line down my side. His breath was hot against my ear as he whispered, “If I were to slip my hand between those pretty thighs right now, would I find you soaking wet, princess?”

A shiver ran through me, his words setting my skin on fire.

“You’d have to do it to find out,” I whispered back, my voice shaky.

His hand slid down to my thigh, gripping it firmly as he pushed the fabric of my dress up, his fingers brushing against the sensitive skin there. The touch was electrifying, sending jolts of pleasure straight to my core, making me gasp.

“Such a good girl,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, dripping with praise that sent another rush of heat through me. His hand moved higher, inching closer to where I needed him most, but he took his time, teasing me, making me squirm against him.

When his fingers finally reached the edge of my panties, he paused, his eyes locking onto mine, a smirk playing on his lips. “You’re already so wet for me,” he said, his voice dripping with satisfaction as he slid one finger along the slick fabric, barely touching me but enough to make my breath hitch.

I bit my lip, fighting back a moan as he continued to tease me, his finger tracing lazy circles over my clit through the thin fabric. The sensation was maddening, the light touch just enough to drive me crazy but not nearly enough to satisfy the aching need inside me.

“Let’s see how wet you really are,” he whispered, slipping his hand inside my panties, his fingers brushing against my slick folds. The contact was enough to make me moan, the sound escaping my lips before I could stop it.

His finger slid along my slit, collecting my wetness before he pressed it against my clit, rubbing slow, deliberate circles that had me arching into his touch, desperate for more. “You’re drenched,” he murmured, his voice laced with approval, his breath hot against my neck as he continued to work me over.

“Mattheo,” I gasped, my hands gripping his shoulders as he curled his finger, finding that perfect spot that made me see stars. He added another finger, the stretch delicious as he pumped them in and out, his thumb brushing against my clit with every movement.

“Look at you princess.” he whispered, his voice a low growl as he continued to finger me, his pace steady and relentless. “You like knowing we’re still in public, don’t you, Y/N? That’s so unlike you….”

His words made my head spin, the combination of his dirty talk and the way his fingers worked me over was too much, too overwhelming. “Nothing I do when I’m with you is like me,” I admitted, my voice breathless as I bucked against his hand, craving more of the pleasure only he could give me. “But nothing has ever felt this good.”

He groaned at my confession, his fingers curling inside me, hitting that perfect spot that had me seeing stars. “Good girl,” he praised again, his voice filled with pride and lust as he kissed me hard, his lips claiming mine with a hunger that left me breathless.

I kissed him back with equal fervor, losing myself in the feel of him, the way his fingers worked me over, driving me closer and closer to the edge. His thumb pressed harder against my clit, his fingers curling inside me in just the right way, sending shockwaves of pleasure through me that made my entire body tremble.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he growled against my lips, his fingers moving faster, harder, the wet sounds of his fingers working me over filling the dark, empty forest around us. “You’re going to come for me, aren’t you, princess? Come all over my fingers like the good girl you are.”

His words were my undoing, the praise and the dirty talk too much for me to handle. I cried out, my nails digging into his shoulders as I shattered around him, my orgasm ripping through me with a force that left me breathless, clinging to him for support as wave after wave of pleasure washed over me.

Mattheo didn’t stop, his fingers working me through my orgasm, prolonging the pleasure until I was nothing but a trembling, panting mess in his arms. He finally slowed his movements, gently pulling his fingers out of me and bringing them to his lips, his eyes locked onto mine as he licked them clean.

“Fuck, you taste amazing,” he murmured, his voice filled with awe and satisfaction as he pulled me in for another searing kiss, his tongue slipping into my mouth, letting me taste myself on him.

I kissed him back, my heart racing, my body still trembling from the intensity of what he’d just done to me. I knew we were still out in the open, knew that anyone could have seen us, but I didn’t care. All I cared about was him, the way he made me feel, the way he could break down every wall I’d ever built around myself with just a touch, a word, a kiss.

breath was hot against my ear as he whispered, “Would you let me tease you, princess? Let me take my time driving you wild until you’re begging for me?”

His voice was dark, dripping with lust and promise, the words alone sending a shiver down my spine. I could only nod, still panting, my body trembling from the aftershocks of my release. The anticipation of what he was about to do had my heart racing, my breath catching in my throat.

He smirked at my response, his eyes gleaming with wicked intent. “That’s my girl,” he murmured, his hands sliding down to spread my legs wider. I gasped as the cool air brushed against my heated core, my entire body thrumming with a desperate need for more.

Mattheo took his time, starting with a slow, deliberate kiss on the inside of my thigh, just above my knee. His lips were soft, his tongue darting out to taste my skin as he worked his way up, inch by agonizing inch. Each kiss, each lick, sent a fresh wave of arousal through me, making my thighs tremble in anticipation.

He alternated between gentle kisses and slow, teasing licks, his tongue tracing patterns up my inner thigh. The closer he got to where I wanted him most, the more my hips began to shift, desperate for him to end the torment. But he didn’t rush, savoring every moment, every reaction he pulled from me.

When he finally reached the apex of my thighs, he paused, his breath warm against my soaked folds. The anticipation was unbearable, every nerve in my body screaming for him to touch me, to give me the release I was so desperately craving.

“Look at me,” he murmured, his voice laced with dark amusement as he kissed the sensitive skin right beside where I ached for him most.

And then, without warning, his tongue was on me, the first long, slow lick sending a bolt of pleasure straight through me. I cried out, my hips bucking involuntarily as his tongue slid over my folds, his hands gripping my thighs to hold me in place.

He took his time, alternating between slow, teasing licks and firm, deliberate strokes of his tongue over my clit. Every touch was electric, every swirl of his tongue pushing me closer and closer to the edge. I was already so sensitive, still reeling from my first orgasm, and the sensation was almost too much to bear.

“Mattheo, please,” I gasped, my hands threading through his hair, pulling him closer, desperate for more.

He chuckled against me, the vibrations sending another wave of pleasure through me. “Patience, princess,” he murmured, his voice a dark, sinful promise. “I’m just getting started.”

He wrapped his lips around my clit, sucking gently before flicking his tongue over the sensitive nub. The combination of his mouth and the steady rhythm of his tongue was driving me wild, the pleasure building so quickly that it was almost overwhelming.

He kept at it, his tongue working in tandem with his lips, pushing me closer and closer to the edge. My thighs were trembling, my breath coming in short, desperate gasps as the pleasure coiled tight in my belly, ready to snap.

And then he pushed me over the edge, his tongue curling around my clit in a way that made my vision go white. I cried out, my body convulsing as the orgasm tore through me, the pleasure so intense that I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, could only feel.

He didn’t stop, didn’t give me a moment to recover as he continued to work me through my release, his tongue lapping up every bit of my arousal. The overstimulation was mind-blowing, each flick of his tongue sending another shockwave through my already oversensitive body.

“Mattheo,” I gasped, my voice raw from the intensity of it all. “I can’t—”

“Oh, but you can,” he growled, his voice dark and commanding as he continued his assault on my clit, his fingers sliding back inside me to curl against that spot that made me see stars. “You’re going to cum again, princess. I want to feel you fall apart for me one more time.”

I could barely form a coherent thought, my mind completely consumed by the pleasure he was giving me. I could only nod, my body already climbing toward that peak again, the intensity of it making my head spin.

He finally pulled away, his hands gently holding my thighs as I came down from the high, my body still trembling with the aftershocks. I was completely spent, my mind foggy with pleasure, but Mattheo just grinned up at me, his lips glistening with my arousal.

“Fuck, you’re incredible,” he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction as he kissed my inner thigh, his fingers gently tracing patterns on my skin. “I could do this all night.”

Tears of pleasure welled in my eyes as I reached for Mattheo, pulling him up to me. I could feel my makeup smeared, my face wet with tears that I knew had streaked down my cheeks, but I didn’t care. All I cared about was him, about the way his lips met mine in a kiss that was as fierce as it was tender.

He kissed me with a hunger that matched my own, his hands cradling my face as if I were something precious, even as I reached down, my fingers fumbling with the buckle of his belt. I could feel how hard he was, could feel the heat radiating from him, and it only made me more desperate, more eager to feel all of him.

But then, to my surprise, he pulled back slightly, his hand catching mine. “No,” he murmured, his voice firm, but there was something in his tone that made me pause, that made me look up into his eyes, confused.

“What? Why?” I asked, my breath hitching, my heart pounding in my chest. The need in me was so overwhelming that I couldn’t understand why he would stop now, not when we were both so clearly on the edge.

He laughed softly, but it wasn’t mocking. It was low and full of a raw affection that sent a shiver down my spine. He leaned in and kissed me again, slow and deep, as if he were trying to pour all of his feelings into that one moment. When he pulled back, he looked into my eyes, his thumb brushing gently over my tear-streaked cheek.

“Believe me, there’s nothing I want more in this world than to bend you over this bike and take you right now, right here,” he whispered, and the words alone were enough to make my legs go weak.

“Then do it,” I pleaded, my voice trembling with both need and frustration. I didn’t care about anything else in that moment; I just wanted him.

But he shook his head, his gaze never leaving mine, his thumb still tracing the line of my cheek.

“No,” he repeated, and before I could protest, before I could beg, he continued, his voice soft but filled with a determination that left me breathless. “When I get to have you, Y/N, I want it to be when I can take my time, when I can make you feel everything I’ve been dying to give you. I don’t want to rush this, to take you in some dark forest where anyone could see. You deserve more than that, more than just a quick fuck.”

His words hit me like a tidal wave, overwhelming in their sincerity, in the sheer weight of what he was saying. I could see it in his eyes, the way he looked at me, like I was the only thing that mattered in the entire world. He wanted more than just my body; he wanted all of me, and he wanted it to be right.

I was speechless, my heart pounding so hard it hurt, and all I could do was stare at him, trying to process everything he had just said. “Mattheo…” I whispered, my voice barely audible, but he silenced me with another kiss, this one gentle, full of a tenderness that brought fresh tears to my eyes.

"Not here, not like this. I want to take my time with you, princess. I want to feel every inch of you, taste every part of you, and make you mine in every possible way.”

I could only nod, tears slipping down my cheeks as I kissed him back, pouring all of my emotions into that kiss. I wanted him so badly it hurt, but I knew he was right. This—whatever it was between us—was more than just a physical need. It was something deeper, something that deserved to be treated with the care and attention he was promising.

We were supposed to be heading to class, but with Mattheo Riddle standing this close, logic and responsibility seemed to melt away. His lips were on mine, hot and insistent, and I could barely think straight. His hand was firmly on my waist, pulling me closer as if he couldn't get enough, and I had to admit, I didn’t mind in the slightest.

In the back of my mind, I knew we were in a hallway, but everything else was a blur. All I could focus on was the way Mattheo’s lips moved against mine, the way his other hand slid up to cup my cheek, deepening the kiss.

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps echoed down the corridor. My eyes flew open, and Mattheo reacted instantly, pulling me into a nearby alcove and pressing a hand gently over my mouth. My heart raced, not from fear but from the thrill of almost being caught. I couldn’t help the mischievous smile that crept onto my lips as I peeked up at him.

His eyes were locked onto mine, and he had that signature smirk of his as we both listened to the footsteps drawing nearer. The Ravenclaw group passed by, completely oblivious to our presence. I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing at how close we had come to being caught.

As soon as they were out of sight, I grinned and grabbed his collar, yanking him back to me. “Where were we?” I asked, my voice playful as I pressed my lips to his once more. The taste of him was intoxicating, and I was already forgetting why we needed to stop.

His hands slid down my back, pulling me even closer, his lips moving hungrily against mine. “Right here,” he murmured between kisses. “Not going anywhere, princess.”

I laughed softly, feeling the thrill of the moment surge through me. “You’re going to get us both in trouble,” I teased, even as I kissed him deeper, not caring at all about the consequences.

“Worth it,” he breathed out, his lips trailing down to my collarbone, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. “You know, you could just skip class… stay here with me. I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

“I definitely don’t want to go to class right now.”

“Who says we have to?” he murmured, his voice low and tempting as he pressed another kiss to the corner of my mouth.

I sighed dramatically, feigning frustration. “You’re such a bad influence, Riddle.”

“And you’re such a willing participant, Y/L/N,” he shot back with a smirk, pulling me back in for another kiss. This time, it was even more heated, as if the idea of sneaking around had only fueled the fire between us.

But just as things were getting even more intense, a familiar voice interrupted us. “Oh, don’t mind me. Continue.”

We both pulled away quickly, turning to see Theo standing there, looking entirely too amused for my liking.

Mattheo sighed, rolling his eyes before he spoke, “Theo, mate, you’re my best friend. Can’t you find something better to do than being a cockblock?”

Theo crossed his arms, smirking. “And you two were supposed to be finding the person behind the gossip column, not making out in an empty hallway.”

At Theo's words, realization hit me like a lightning bolt. The Daily Prophet letter! It was supposed to be today! I spun around to face him. “Theo, did the letter arrive yet?”

He shook his head. “Nope, nothing. You might’ve scared them off for good.”

I frowned, trying to think straight despite the lingering heat in my body from Mattheo’s touch. “That’s strange… they’ve been so consistent."

Mattheo’s hand was still on my waist, his thumb brushing gently over my skin, and despite my worry, I couldn’t help but feel a small thrill at his touch. I turned to him, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. “I should probably go so I won’t be late for class,” I said softly, though every part of me wanted to stay right here with him.

“You sure you don’t want to stay? I can think of a few more ways to spend the time.”

I laughed, giving him a quick peck on the lips. “Tempting, but I’ll save that for later.” With that, I pulled away from him, giving Theo a playful wave as I hurried off down the corridor.

As I walked away, I could hear Mattheo’s voice behind me, low and teasing. “You know, Theo, sometimes I think you take your job as a third wheel a little too seriously.”

Theo’s laughter echoed through the hallway as I turned the corner, already counting down the minutes until I could see Mattheo again.

I sat in class, staring blankly at the parchment in front of me, my quill lazily tracing random lines across the page. The absence of the Daily Gossip Letter today was unsettling, and I could feel the unease settling over the classroom like a heavy fog. Everyone else seemed to be thinking the same thing—why hadn’t it come today? The letter had become a constant, its arrival as predictable as the sunrise, yet today, there was nothing.

As I absentmindedly doodled on my notebook, my mind began to wander, trying to piece together why the letter had stopped.

But why would it stop?

I tried to focus, to pay attention to the professor’s words, but my thoughts kept wandering. The gossip letter had become a staple at Hogwarts, a daily dose of scandal that everyone had come to expect. So why would it just… stop?

Unless… unless the person behind it didn’t need it anymore.

The thought sent a shiver down my spine. I started to think about all the things that had been written about me in that damned letter. The gossip wasn’t just random; it was targeted, specific. Almost like someone had a personal reason.

I started recalling all the gossip that had been written about me. My so-called date with Prince Edward, which wasn’t even a real date because I had turned him down. But when I returned to school, the letter had detailed everything about it—except the rejection part, of course. That happened privately, away from prying eyes. So how did the letter know about the date in the first place? Who else was in Italy at the same time as me?

My heart began to race as I straightened in my seat, my hand shaking slightly as I wrote down the names of the only two people who could have possibly known. The first name felt wrong, implausible, but the second… my stomach twisted as I scrawled it down.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. My thoughts raced back to another piece of gossip—the one about me supposedly flirting with a Durmstrang student during the Yule Ball. The truth was, I had been trying to get information about a certain dark artifact that night, and the conversation had been strictly business. Yet the letter painted a completely different picture.

Again, I scribbled down the name. My hand tightened around the quill as I recalled another instance—Time when I helped Adrian Pucey sneak into the restricted section of the library. It was late at night, and we were careful not to get caught. But the letter described it in perfect detail, down to the exact time we were there. Who else knew?

The quill in my hand quivered as I wrote down the final name. My breathing became shallow, and I could feel tears welling up in my eyes as all the clues finally came together, like pieces of a puzzle that I had been too blind to see. Every rumor, every piece of gossip, every little detail that had been written about me, led back to one person.

I circled the name angrily, feeling my heart break as I stared at the words on the page, the tears now spilling down my cheeks.

I didn’t care that the professor was calling my name, didn’t care about the shocked whispers that followed me as I bolted out of the classroom. All I could think about was finding him, confronting him. My feet carried me quickly down the corridors, my heart pounding in my chest as I headed toward the Great Hall. But when I got there, he wasn’t among the students milling about.

I clenched my fists, trying to think. Where would he be? Then it hit me—Quidditch practice. They had the last part of the day off.

Without another thought, I made my way to the Slytherin dorms. My mind was racing, anger and betrayal twisting in my chest as I reached his door. I didn’t hesitate as I knocked, the sound echoing in the empty corridor.

When the door opened, Mattheo’s surprised expression turned into a mischievous smirk as he leaned against the frame, eyes raking over me. “Y/N? What, you miss kissing me so much you had to skip class?” His tone was playful, teasing, and he stepped aside to let me in.

I ignored the flutter in my chest and walked past him into the room. The moment he saw my face, though, his smirk faded. He closed the door and turned to me, concern clouding his eyes. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice softer now, as he moved closer. “Y/N, what’s wrong? Talk to me.”

I sat down on his bed, feeling the weight of his gaze on me. His words echoed in my mind, the ones he’d said before about how the person behind the gossip letter must want to get a reaction out of me. I looked up at him, a cold smile curling my lips. "Well, was it good?"

Mattheo frowned, confusion crossing his features. “What are we talking about now, princess?”

“The reaction you got out of me,” I said, and just like that, the smile on my face vanished, replaced by the full weight of my anger and hurt. “Was it everything you hoped for?”

His face went blank, the confusion deepening in his eyes. “Wait, Y/N—”

“Checkmate, Riddle,” I said, my voice trembling as I stood up, the anger and hurt finally spilling over.

"You were the only one who knew about Italy, about what happened there. You were the one who was with me at the Yule Ball. You were there when Adrian and I sneaked into the library." My voice grew louder with each accusation, tears burning in my eyes. "All of those details, every single one of them—it was you. You were the one writing the gossip letter, weren’t you?"

Tears blurred my vision as I continued, my voice shaking with emotion. “Was it fun for you? Watching me losing my mind, seeing how much it effected me? Was it a game, Mattheo? Did you enjoy it? You said the person doing this wanted a reaction—well, congratulations, you got it. You got everything you wanted. I trusted you… I thought you cared, but you were just playing me all along.”

“You’ve been playing me this whole time, haven’t you? Feeding me lies, watching as I fell for every trap you set. And for what? A laugh? A good story?”

“Y/N, that’s not—” he started, but I cut him off.

“Save it,” I spat out, my voice breaking under the weight of my emotions. “You’ve already won. I just wonder why you haven’t written your final story yet—it’s a good one. Especially the part where you—"

But before I could finish, he cut me off, his voice trembling with an emotion I hadn’t expected.

"What could I have done, Y/N? What could I have possibly done?" he began, his words tumbling out in a rush, raw and unfiltered. "I was there, yes, I was right there with you—through all of it. But do you know why? Do you know why I couldn’t stay away?"

I froze, his words piercing through my anger like a knife. He continued, his voice thick with desperation. "I’ve loved you all this time, from the first day I got off that stupid train, from the first moment I laid eyes on you. And I can’t remember a single day where I haven’t been in love with you.

He paused, his eyes locked on mine, pleading for understanding. "It wasn’t just some stupid crush, Y/N. It was an obsession, it was madness—but it was love. I loved you, and I still love you. I was desperate… Desperate to be near you, to be a part of your life, even if it meant doing something as twisted as this."

I stood frozen."You could have just said that. You should have just told me that."

"Yeah, right," he scoffed bitterly, shaking his head. "Fucking right, Y/N."

"What do you mean?" I asked, my voice wavering.

"You had a damn prince crying after you rejected him," Mattheo snapped, his frustration and jealousy spilling over. "A prince, Y/N! And here I am, the son of a psychopath, the last person anyone should ever trust, much less love. What was I supposed to say? ‘Oh, by the way, I’m in love with you, even though my father’s the Dark Lord and everyone expects me to be just like him’? Who the hell would ever want that?"

He paced the room, running a hand through his hair as he continued, his voice strained. "Every day, I watched you. I saw you with your friends, with guys who could give you everything—everything. And the worst part? The worst fucking part was knowing that no matter what I did, no matter how close I got, it would never be enough. Not for someone like you."

Tears welled up in my eyes again, but this time they weren’t from anger. "You don’t get it, Mattheo. None of that mattered to me. None of it. I didn’t care about titles or any of that. I just wanted someone who was real with me. Someone who saw me for who I am, not just as some piece in a game."

He stopped pacing and turned to me, his expression softening. "I did see you, Y/N. That’s why I did what I did. The letters… they were my way of being close to you, of being a part of your world. But I was so scared of losing you, of you finding out what I’d done, that I just kept digging myself deeper. And now… now I’ve lost you anyway."

His voice broke on the last word, and the sight of him standing there, so vulnerable, shattered the last of my defenses.

Just as I was about to respond, movement from the next bed caught my eye. I blinked, my heart skipping a beat when I saw Enzo sitting up, looking between Mattheo and me with wide, startled eyes, propped up on his elbows.

He Clearly had heard more than enough. "Oh, fuck," he muttered, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. "I’ve got this thing—relationship phobia. Can’t be around emotional confessions, they give me hives." [p.s that’s the same Enzo from Down bad pray for him]

He awkwardly shuffled out of the bed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Sorry, guys. Gonna get out of here real quick. Pretend I was never here, yeah?" With that, he practically bolted out of the room, leaving me staring after him in disbelief until the door clicked shut behind him.

This family is insane.

We both stood there in silence for a moment, the sudden interruption leaving us both a bit stunned. I didn’t know what to say, and it seemed like Mattheo didn’t either.

“Y/N,” he finally whispered, his voice cracking as he took a tentative step toward me. “Please… say something. Anything.”

“You hurt me, Mattheo,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “You lied to me, manipulated me."

“I know,” he replied, his voice thick with emotion. “I know I did, and I hate myself for it. But Y/N, please believe me when I say that I never meant to hurt you. I just… I didn’t know how else to keep you close.”

Tears welled up in my eyes again, and I wiped them away furiously, hating how vulnerable I felt in this moment. “Why didn’t you just tell me how you felt? Why did you have to go through all this?”

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, his voice so quiet, so broken, that it made my chest ache. “I’m so fucking sorry, Y/N. I never wanted to hurt you. I just… I didn’t know how else to be close to you. I didn’t know how to tell you that I loved you without feeling like I was going to lose you.”

I bit my lip, trying to hold back the tears that were threatening to spill over. “But you didn’t have to do it like this, Mattheo. You didn’t have to lie to me, to manipulate me, just to be close. I would’ve—” My voice broke, and I had to take a deep breath to steady myself. “I would’ve loved you anyway."

Mattheo's face softened, his brow furrowing in confusion as he whispered, "You would?" His voice was barely audible, almost as if he didn’t believe the words that had just left his lips.

I couldn’t bring myself to answer right away. My heart was pounding, and I could feel the walls I had built around myself beginning to crumble. Without a word, I got up from the bed and walked toward him, each step feeling heavier than the last.

"Yeah," I finally said, my voice trembling as I stood in front of him. "Because it would’ve been easy, Mattheo."

His eyes searched mine, desperate and lost, as if he was trying to find the truth in my words.

"I’ve loved you," I began, my voice cracking, "from the moment I stepped off that stupid train, too love must have been in the air that day or something. But I couldn’t let myself admit it. Instead, I pushed you away, pretended I couldn’t stand you because I was terrified—terrified of how much I wanted you, how much I needed you." Tears spilled over, and I couldn’t stop them this time. They streamed down my face as I choked out the words I had been too afraid to say for so long. "I didn’t know how to deal with how much you consumed me, so I fought it. But it was always you, Mattheo. It was always you."

He moved closer, his hands gently cupping my face, wiping away my tears with his thumbs. His touch was soft, so different from the way he usually carried himself—like he was afraid I might break if he wasn’t careful.

“I didn’t know…” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I didn’t know you felt that way.”

“I did. I do,” I confessed, my voice barely above a whisper as I leaned into his touch. “I just didn’t want to admit how much you meant to me. How much you still mean to me.”

Mattheo’s forehead rested against mine, his breath warm on my skin as he held me close. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice filled with a kind of raw vulnerability I’d never heard from him before. “I didn’t know how to show you what I felt without messing everything up. I was so afraid of losing you that I did the exact thing that could drive you away.”

I shook my head, trying to push away the flood of emotions that threatened to overwhelm me. “I know,” I whispered, my hands clutching the front of his shirt as if he was the only thing keeping me grounded. “I know now that the letters were more about admiring me than harming me. They only felt too much when another boy was involved, and… and I get it. I get that it was your twisted way of dealing with jealousy.”

He pulled back just enough to look into my eyes, his gaze intense but soft, as if he was seeing me for the first time. “You mean everything to me,” he said, his voice so quiet it was almost a breath. “I just didn’t know how to show it without screwing it up.”

“You don’t have to be perfect,” I told him, my voice shaky as I tried to make him understand. “You just have to be you. That’s all I ever wanted.”

Mattheo’s grip on me tightened, and he leaned in, his lips brushing against mine in the softest, most tentative kiss. It was like he was asking for permission, for forgiveness, and I gave it to him willingly, kissing him back with all the emotions I had kept bottled up for so long.

As the kiss deepened, I felt the last of my walls crumble, leaving me completely vulnerable in his arms. But for the first time, I wasn’t afraid. I knew that despite everything, this was where I was meant to be. And maybe, just maybe, we could find our way back to each other from here.

“I love you,” I whispered against his lips, my voice thick with tears and longing.

“I love you to—”

The door suddenly burst open, and Blaise walked in, his eyes widening as he took in the scene. He froze for a moment, his gaze darting between the two of us, and then a slow smirk spread across his face.

“Well, well, well,” he drawled, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe. “Isn’t this cozy? I was just coming to grab a book, but it looks like I walked into the middle of a romance novel. Should I start narrating? ‘And in that moment, their love ignited like a house elf’s poorly managed kitchen fire…’”

I felt my face flush, and I quickly stepped back from Mattheo, wiping at my eyes. “Blaise, could you just…not?” Mattheo said .

Blaise chuckled, completely unfazed by Mattheo’s irritation. “Oh, don’t mind me. I’ll just be over here, pretending I didn’t walk in on whatever _this_ is.” He waved his hand vaguely in our direction before sauntering over to the bookshelf.

I shot Mattheo a look, trying to stifle a laugh as Blaise exaggeratedly searched for his book, humming to himself like nothing unusual had happened.

Mattheo sighed, shaking his head as he muttered, “I’m killing you after this.”

“Nuh,” Blaise called out, pulling a book from the shelf and turning back to us with a grin. “You love me.”

“Debatable,” Mattheo shot back, but there was a hint of a smile on his lips.

Blaise winked at me before heading toward the door. “Carry on with your dramatic declarations of love. I’ll leave you two to…whatever this is.” With that, he slipped out of the room, leaving us alone once more.

As the door clicked shut, I couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, Mattheo looked down at me.

“Where were we?” he asked softly, pulling me back into his arms.

“I think you were about to tell me how much you love me,” I teased, my heart swelling with warmth.

“Right,” he whispered, his voice turning serious again as he leaned in to kiss me. “ Fuck yeah I love you. So much.”

[thedevilsoftruth]

...From all the things I do

New Avengers!Bucky x F! Reader

Sum - your sweet hubby freaks you out on a coffee table In the compound while you start to babble absolute nonsense ♡

W/c - 960 words

Smut tags - married relationship, porn no plot, semi public sex, encouragement, squirting, piv sex, missionary -> with your legs on his shoulders, making you touch yourself, cunnilingus, determined Bucky who never breaks a promise, light spanking. Not beta read. All of my fics are written with plus size inclusivity.

A/n - wrote this from 4-5 am with All I Need by Lloyd on REPEAT. I am very sleep deprived and ovulation is very mean to me. Enjoy.

MDNI!!! I am NOT responsible for what you find on the internet.

[my request box is open. Please see my pinned post for more information regarding my request rules.]

"c'mon, sweet peach. Am I not going hard enough? Wanna hear your pretty mouth." He mutters as he kisses the tip of your ear, his cold, left metal hand holding you down onto the coffee table. The scene the two of you were painting in the common room area of the new Avengers' compound was absolutely, utterly, disgustingly obscene. You, laid on your back on the glass coffee table people ate at at gripping the rims of it while Bucky stood between your thick thighs, his heavy cock thrusting into you deep and harsh.

A metal hand reaches over your face and taps your flushed cheek. A long streak of drool drizzles down your chin. You blink and whine like a puppy begging for food, your back arching into the palm of his right hand on your tummy, your hips nodding up and down his.

"Words, babydoll." He says, the fleshy palm of his sweaty right hand coming down onto your flushed ass harsh would a loud clap. You make a tiny noise at it, your tingling body jolting forward by the contact.

"Words," you repeated, completely dazed and fucked-out, unsure of what you were even saying. It was almost as though you were repeating it as to not forget what he had told you, but it didn't take long for the word to slip through your head like a passing thought.

"What?" He spanked you harder. That time, he was finally able to draw you out of the misty clouds of your overwhelming lust for just a little bit.

"I love you!" You blurt out, biting your lip, grinding your pussy against your husband's hips, begging him for more friction despite who over sensitive your pussy felt. A smile breaks upon his face at how absolutely fucked and incoherent you sounded. Initially, you had just came there go drop off his lunch maybe say hi to Yelena, but instead he was fucking absolute nonsense out of you in the common room.

Bucky shook his head and laughed, rasing a brow as he out his metal hand on your back again and slowly, oh so slowly, let his cock sinks back into your drooling pussy. He watched his black wedding ring bling under the sunlight and your pretty pussy welcome him back into you like it always did.

"I love you too." He breathed, somewhere between a wheeze and a laugh as he shook his head and fucked back into you. Your messy flesh clicked softly around his thick cock, your eyes rolling back and your moans getting so loud, he was sure people 10 floors down could hear.

"There she is. My good girl." He praises, tilting his head to the side thoughtfully as he snaked a flesh hand between your trembling thick thighs to rub your clit. You choked on a moan, your knuckles turning white around the table, your toes curling around nothing and your needy pussy pulsating around him, signaling your orgasm.

"Oohohoho." He laughs darkly, rubbing your little button harder and making you squeal. "You're gettin' close soon, ain't that right, pretty girl?" His cock pushed into you, slow and deep and reverent. You swallowed thickly and nodded frantically.

"So close." You repeated. Bucky grinned and took it as a sign. He placed both of his big hands on your hips and sunk so impossibly deep that you swore your vision became white for a moment.

"Touch yourself for me, baby. Wanna see you cummin' all over my cock like a good little wife." He told you before he picked up your legs and placed them over his broad shoulders. You melted into his touch, and wasted no time to obey him. Your right hand snaked between your elevated thighs, and you ran a shaking middle finger down your pretty, messy pearl.

"Yeah, jus' like that. Yeah, such a pretty, good little girl." Bucky praises, his voice hoarse and breathless as he smiled, pretty and all teeth, and picked up his pace a little bit. The sensations of your little clit being rubbed and your husband's perfect cock pumping in and out of you sent you over the edge. In the matter of seconds, you were cumming violently with a very loud moan that shook the room. Little streams of hot, milky fluid spurred over his pelvis.

Bucky blinked a few times. His mouth was open like he couldn't believe what he was seeing. You couldn't either. All you knew what that you felt warm, floaty, and relived.

"Oh. Baby." He said slowly, slowly sinking himself out of you.

Fuck it, he'd come later on his own or unless you wanted another round after what he was gonna do to you.

"Fuckin' look at that." He rasped, sinking to his knees in front of you and spreading you open with his big hands. You whined. Groaned when his mouth found your cum flooded pussy.

"God damn, honey." He moaned, his thick tongue lapping up your milky fluids. Your hands shot to his fluffy, long hair, tugging right at his bangs. His thick, full beard was rubbing your thighs in the perfect way that you liked. The tip of his tongue dragged then rolled across your shiny pearl, and you gasped and tugged at his hair. Bucky groaned and shook his head against your pussy before messily slurping a fat, wet line down your folds.

"Gonna make you squirt a over my face again. Don't fucking care how long it takes, I will make you cum for me again." He grunted, holding you down with his metal hand on your tummy as he absolutely devoured you. But the words he was speaking weren't just him telling you his plans, they were a goddamn promise.

[wheeboo]

seventeen and their reaction to you after wisdom teeth surgery

PAIRING. seventeen (o13) x gn!reader GENRE. fluff, crack/humour, established relationship WARNINGS. mention of wisdom teeth removal, mention of surgery, mention of blood and gauze, mention of IV sedation WORD COUNT. 1.1k

notes: it would be day 1 post-op of my wisdom teeth surgery as of the posting of this. ik everyone's experience is different but i was given IV sedation for my procedure and it was literally like coming up from a nap istg HAHA. i've been quite literally devastated that i cant eat anything so i've decided to make this lol for funsies to cope i hope u all enjoy!!!

choi seungcheol

becomes your knight in shining armour literally. holds your hand while they stick the IV in your arm, insists to stay and watch over you but then the oral surgeon kicks him out of the room LMAO. when the surgery is done, he's literally picking you up bridal style all the way into the car and pampers and spoils you so hard for the rest of your recovery :(( he hates seeing his precious baby in so much pain. you'd wake him up in the middle of the night to take your medicine and he always makes sure to stay by your side

yoon jeonghan

ngl mfer would probably be laughing at you 💀 they'd wheel you up all the way to his car, still loopy from the anesthesia and numbing stuff. you end up saying something like "woww, the skies are sooo blue," and he'd just say "if you look closer, there's unicorns in the sky," and you're like "REALLY??????????" nonetheless he'd still be very very caring, just be aware of him talking about what food he should eat for dinner and you're glaring at him with your tiny cup of applesauce

joshua hong

just the SWEETEST, and maybe a bit of a tease as well (unsurprisingly), and def isn't secretly recording your cute moments to show you later on since you won't really remember. he'd be like "yeah, you told me you wanted to marry me on the ride back home." pushes back your hair and gives you the softest smile ever when you wake up from the anesthesia, and you couldn't help but mumble something about him looking like an angel who came down from heaven

wen junhui

he would be so amused by everything you're saying post-surgery. will be giggling alongside you at the most nonsensical things. due to the numbing you'd mumble something about how your tongue is gone, and he'd just gasp, "WHERE DID IT GO?" then immediately goes to reassure you, "wait, wait, it's still there, don't worry." will very much be doting on you the entire day, constantly promising to cook your favourite meals for you when you're finally able to

kwon soonyoung

man is a combination of hyping you and up and being in constant panic mode. he'd be cheering for you so happily after getting through the surgery, but by the time you're in the car and start mumbling nonsense, he'd be so so confused, trying to figure out what you're saying. you'd say like "i want jdsfklsjfd" with the bloody gauze and he's like "??????" is constantly reviewing over the oral surgeon's notes and googling stuff just to be extra safe. would try to make soup but somehow burns it?

jeon wonwoo

quietly yet determined. he always makes sure to take your pain meds on time, always helps spoon feed you and give water when you need it, always lets you hold onto him when you're uncomfortable. would be silently amused by your silly antics, to be honest. feels bad that you aren't able to eat but is constantly reassuring you with kisses to the head that you'll be better soon, running his hands through your hair until you doze off

lee jihoon

appears unfazed but honestly he might be freaking the freak out, constantly watching over you like a hawk. hates seeing you in pain and uncomfortable and wants to do everything he can just to make you not feel that way. pours all his love and care into creating soft meals that you're able to eat. you can tell him "jihoonie, it hurts :(" and he's absolutely melting. would definitely give you a little sigh and eye roll when you say something all groggily, but still loves it of course

xu minghao

is very patient and literally prepared everything beforehand. he has all the foods lined up for you to eat, all the meds scheduled at the right time you'd need to take them, your bed and pillows already adjusted to the right level. has all the herbal teas ready to help you relax. in the car, you'd ask him for a kiss and he's like "my love, the doctor said i can't give you one," and you give him a big old pout. he won't be able to help himself, and plants a kiss to your knuckles instead. overall, he's just very gentle eugh

kim mingyu

mother mode: activated. baby talks you the whole time, even when you're just loopily staring at him like "??????" carries you to the car if you're too weak to walk with your arms wrapped around his neck and legs wrapped around his torso, tucks you in with five blankets and five pillows propped to level your body, and brings you all the softest foods he can find. insists on feeding you even though you can do it yourself. honestly probably insists on doing almost everything for you: helping you eat, putting cold/warm compresses to your face, anything

lee seokmin

he's laughing. so much. but also giving you a cute little forehead kisse every few minutes. you wake up from the anesthesia and he's grinning so hard at you because you look so cutely dazed and confused, blinking up at him like he's some sort of a divine being (which he is, honestly). you probably say something like "wowwww you're soo handsome," and the dental assistants tell you that he's your boyfriend, causing you to be shocked, and he would just absolutely melt

boo seungkwan

oh my baby is loud but loving. he's wheeling you out of the office and going, "oh my god, my poor baby, you did so well!!" and immediately starts recording when you say something dumb. the moment you start whining, he's all over you omfg, fussing about your comfort, adjusting your pillows, and if you refuse to take your meds he'd be nagging your ass. if you start crying about not eating real food, he's crying with you honestly

vernon chwe

of course he's very chill but is very entertained and also kinda worried for you. probably records funny moments of you to send to the svt groupchat and keep in his memories to show you later on. always looks out for the little signs you might be in pain, and would fetch your meds and some water wordlessly. the first thing he'd get you after surgery would be a milkshake or smoothie, but insists to take the first sip to make sure "it's safe" (he just wanted an excuse to taste it)

lee chan

super caring but also the type to play along with anything you say. if you go "the ceiling is moving," he just gasps and goes, "no way! it is!" but of course he's really gentle with you, carefully buckling your seatbelt and rubbing your back when you get frustrated about not being able to eat solid food. might also carry you piggyback style if you're still out of it from the anesthesia. when you nap, he stays close by just in case you need anything

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@fujiswn

[ratbastarddotfuck]

I thought bioessentialism and gender essentialism was a total crock of shit by the time I was 7 years old and was fully arguing with adult men and women in my family about this for my entire childhood, despite not having the language. So much of the worst misogynist abuse I suffered was specifically because I refused to bend the knee to patriarchal gender standards, because I thought they were nonsense. I was forced into waxing appointments by women in my life because I simply refused to shave, an experience which was incredibly traumatic for a host of reasons. This is one example of many. [misogyny is the primary societal enforcer of antitransmasculinity (and transphobia in general ofc). patriarchal power is constantly utilised to keep "women" from stepping out of line, and the first step to becoming transmasc is often being seen as a woman out of line. I could write a whole essay about this and how this intersects with the transfeminine experience but i digress.]

Idk why strangers on the internet think they could win me over to transphobia by telling me that things are easier if you go back in the box. Like yeah, society sure is an easier thing to move through when you're not a gender freak, you're right! There ARE a lot fewer confusing, annoying, buzzkill conversations that you need to have when you're not challenging the patriarchy, so true! Life could be so simple if I detransitioned and married a straight man and lived as his domestic fuckmaid for the rest of my life. It would be really simple, and it really is just inconsiderate of us trannies to go and mess up the whole system for everyone else by trying to have "pronouns" and "gender neutral medical language".

I don't really give a fuck? I have never given a fuck? The feminist art I raised myself on taught me to make a mess and be seen caring about people. Be inconvenient. Because otherwise I will never be a real person. So many people are just moving through society along their pre-determined path of cisheteronormativity. I have never fit into it; I am inconvenient. I was an inconvenient child, I am an inconvenient man, I am an inconvenient woman. It's fucking awesome, you should try it too.

[maruflix]

HELL HATH NO FURY... #oneshot #narumigen #f!reader

it was at this moment narumi gen knew... he fucked up.

feat. narumi gen　　⎯⎯　wc. 1.8k

content: female reader, reader is an officer in the first division, hoshina’s little sister!reader, narumi is an idiot, men who beg and grovel, no beta we die like narumi’s hair in the anime

Narumi Gen knows he fucked up.

He can see it in his subordinates’ eyes, in the way they all ignore his silent plea for them to acknowledge the levity of his earlier statement.

“Without me to watch your back, you’re practically dispensable.”

Gen thought everyone knew he was just kidding.

He rethinks that, because you — the one who never backs down from a playful banter — immediately fall silent.

“I-I’m sure the captain didn’t mean that.”

“Of course I did.”

Of course he didn’t. But in the heat of the moment, he can only blame Kikoru for opening her mouth and forcing him to say words he didn’t mean.

Because what else could he do? Apologize?

There’s a heavy tension around the cafetaria table, and it still hangs in the air even after you gathered your belongings and left with a clatter.

“Here.”

You barely spare him a glance, opting instead to take a fresh towel from the rack.

Gen purses his lips, gripping the towel he offered you before bringing his hand down to rest on his sides.

“So, uh, you wanna play that new game tonight?”

You’ve been avoiding him these past few weeks and it’s killing him more than he’d like to admit. To usually have you by his side and suddenly be robbed of your company…

You straighten your chin. Gen feels like he’s going to choke.

He’s still standing in the same spot even after you stand up and leave. Behind him, he can hear you laughing with the other officers.

Practice used to be fun, now it’s like he’s walking on eggshells or the chill in the air will freeze him solid if he’s not careful. The worst part? They pretend like nothing is wrong.

It’s not like anything happened after the incident — life goes on as normal in the Ariake Maritime Base. The same practice, the same missions, the same meetings. No one spoke of the incident. Not even you.

Still, he knows your relationship with him changed, and not in the way he intended. He wants to continue being the person who everybody thought is your boyfriend, but is actually your best friend, but it’s complicated because he kinda has feelings for you. But now you won’t even acknowledge his existence.

Gen knows he has to apologize.

But he doesn’t know how.

“What?! You haven’t apologized?!”

Gen doesn’t understand what the big deal is. Everyone knows that you’re always involved in some sort of bickering with him.

The two of you compete about everything. To him, being able to compete with someone fair and square is rare — it’s proof enough that the two of you are on equal footing. So why is everyone acting like one nonsensical sentence from him discredits all your achievements and prowess?

If he says he’s the Director of the Defense Force, will old man Shinomiya instantly step down from his position and give him the spot?

“… No, I don’t feel the need to.”

Eiji shakes his head. “You’re gonna regret that.”

Gen sighs and looks to the side.

Truthfully, he regrets it already. Why else would he discuss his relationship with Hasegawa Eiji, of all freaking people? You ignore his texts, reject all his calls, pretends like he doesn’t exist, and you even exit the room when he comes in. He’s desperate, that’s why.

Gen admits that he was never good with words. He’s better at showing you how he feels through his actions. Now he can’t even do that, because you don’t let him.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Gen breathes out a shaky; “What should I do?”

“I have an idea,” Eiji starts, “but I don’t know if you’re brave enough to do it.”

When Gen opens his eyes, there’s a newfound determination in them.

“Sir, please, you can’t just enter like this..!”

Narumi Gen has never let a kaiju stop him, let alone a mere attendant. He storms his way past the flurry of housekeepers, gardeners, and household staff — all of them combined is not nearly enough to stop him.

He halts in front of the wooden steps leading up to the front doors, huffing and catching his breath.

The stately Hoshina Estate looks intimidating with the shiny thatched roofs reflecting the brilliant sun.

The attendants have caught up to him now, their footsteps thudding on the rocks behind him. Hushed whispers of his identity and his purpose of coming reverberates through the field, making his chaotic heart thunder loudly in his chest.

“(Y/N), please come out! I’ve come to see you!”

For a moment, no one dares to step forward.

What is the Narumi Gen doing here? It’s no secret that Japan’s strongest anti-kaiju combatant has always been at odds with the Hoshina Family’s Hoshina Soshiro, but why has he come seeking for their young lady?

They all wait with bated breath. There is no response. What will he do next?

Gen gets down to his knees.

“(Y/N), please..!!”

The attendant from before scrambles to his side, gripping his arm in an effort to drag him out. Gen stubbornly stays rooted to his spot. He’s prepared to do this, however long it takes.

“Sir, please don’t cause any problems!”

“I just need a few seconds, please!” Gen frantically reasons, “(Y/N), I want to apologize, so please come out, damn it!”

A second attendant seizes his other arm, and just as he thought he’s going to fail, the front doors slide open.

Gen looks up to see you staring down at him. Next to you, your brother crosses his arms as his gaze trails down to him in amusement. The two Hoshina siblings, dressed in hakama, katanas resting snugly on both your hips as it gleams in the sunlight.

A shiver runs down Gen’s spine at the coldness of your glare.

The attendants immediately bow in your presence, “Our apologies for the ruckus. This person suddenly broke down the gate and forced his way in, insisting to meet with the Young Lady,” The attendant throws Gen a glare, to which he ignores, “Young Lord Soshiro, should we throw him out?”

“What d’ya think, Lil’ Sis?” Hoshina Soshiro wraps an arm around you protectively, “Should I throw ‘im out myself or should I get Soichiro?”

“No, no, wait! (Y/N), I made a mistake!” Gen inches his body up but immediately bows back again to retain his kneeling position, his legs now shivering from adrenaline, “I didn’t mean what I said that day! I was wrong, and I.. I’m sorry!”

He’s pretty sure the entire household can hear him screaming, but he genuinely doesn’t give a shit.

“You’re indispensable to the First Division and you totally don’t need me to watch your back, I was just.. I don’t know what I was thinking,” Gen doesn’t even dare to lift his face up, “I really regret saying those words, I…”

“Look at me when you apologize.”

Your sharp reply makes his head jolt upwards.

He can see an amused smirk creeping on your lips as you finally humor his attempt of trying to get your forgiveness.

“So you stormed my family estate just for this? Can’t this wait ‘til tomorrow?”

Gen shakes his head. “I’ve waited long enough to apologize. So... am I forgiven?”

You smile. “Well, now. No need to beg.”

Like a cue, the attendants finally let go of his aching arms.

You step to the side, inviting him to enter. “I was just training with my brothers. Wanna join?”

Gen practically beams as he makes his way to you. He trips on the last step, almost falling on his face, and smiles sheepishly when he finally reaches the door. “Pardon the intrusion.”

After you disappear deeper into the house, Soshiro turns to Gen and shakes his head. “Yer’ a mess.”

Gen laughs. “For your sister, I always am.”

They make their way inside, walking next to each other rather awkwardly.

“Don’t let Soichiro hear that. Yer’ gonna get a beating.”

“If that means we can be brother-in-laws, sure.”

Soshiro scrunches his nose in disgust. “Wouldn’t count on it. Yer’ not even dating.”

Gen hums. Maybe he should ask Eiji how to go about that.

[possibly-god]

Threshold: Unlocking the Good Ending

Happy Threshold Day, everyone! Here's how that nonsense (and beyond) could have gone differently if Tom Paris had chosen different dialogue options. Inspired by this post by @starship-butterfly

Tom talks his way back into the Warp 10 test another way – he and Harry figured it out together, they should test it together. Plus, two heads are better than one if something goes wrong, and there’s no one he trusts more to have his back.

Just as before, right as everyone’s praising them as heroes, Tom goes down. At first everyone assumes it’s the Doctor’s “2% chance” coming to pass… and then Harry goes out too.

They babble and reminisce together in the surgical bay. They clasp hands as they die and embrace as they reawaken. They butt heads and bond as they mutate – Harry rips Tom’s tongue from his mouth, Tom helps Harry not to choke as his detaches.

Between the two of them, busting out is no problem – for them, at least. Before the Doctor can get them anywhere near the warp core, Tom and Harry are out of Sick Bay, in the shuttle, and off God knows where.

When the crew finally tracks the duo down, they’ve gone full amphibian – including froggy sex-swapping adaptations, because the lizard babies must exist in every timeline (let’s be real, “turn into frogs and have frog babies with your bestie” is such a Harry Kim thing to happen).

As does Chakotay going “fuck them kids” – against Tuvok’s advisement, Janeway agrees to keep the incident classified.

And then, of course, the Doctor spills the beans (“Any other symptoms?” “I don’t know, my abdomen is cramping something awful…” “That’s hardly surprising, you did just give birth.” “…what.”).

The second they’re unsupervised, Harry is dragging Tom to the shuttle bay (Tom's on board, he just doesn't want them getting caught) because they can work through that mountain of weird feelings later but right now Babies.

Meanwhile everyone on Voyager is freaking the hell out because they just stole the fuCKING SHUTTLE AGAIN-

The second they touch back down on Voyager, Tom is out of the shuttle and straight-up decking Chakotay before he can say “what the hell” and having strong words with Janeway when she tries to object (Tuvok coolly decides not to get involved).

Harry meanwhile is sprinting to the med bay (he’s not risking the transporter with neonates of an unrecorded species) with an armful of deeply bewildered salamanders.

A temporary habitat is set up in Sick Bay while their care needs are established – including enrichment and education, because as a brain scan and mind meld determine, these kiddos are indeed fully sapient (and very confused and scared by the events of the past few days).

The crew asks about reverting them back to baseline human, but the Doctor informs them there’s nothing to revert – his method works off the subject having been human at some point, and these kids have never not been squishy.

They can’t stay in Sick Bay forever, of course, and will require regular care wherever they end up – ultimately, it’s decided the whole family will move into a vacant officers’ quarters, with Engineering converting the common area into a tank/terrarium.

Of course, this new cohabitation situation means confronting that mountain of weird feelings – after a rather fraught period of counseling, parenting establishment, and romantic experimentation, Tom and Harry eventually settle into a mostly-platonic partnership.

Amid said period, the kids finally get names – meet Philo Jonah, Micah Drew, and Jamie Kris Paris-Kim (after esteemed Starfleet captains, tweaked for gender neutrality – even if they can guess the kids’ sexes now, there’s no guarantee they’ll stay that way).

Harry with the babies:

Tom with the babies:

Whenever both Harry and Tom have to be on duty (or just need a break), other crewmates are often roped into babysitting (Chakotay volunteers whenever he can, mostly out of guilt – when he can’t himself, he can usually talk B’elanna into it).

As “evolved beings”, the triplets’ intellectual development is accelerated – when they’re about 2 years old, they start going to lessons and holodeck playdates with Naomi Wildman, and later the Borg kids.

While the Paris-Kims prefer a warm, damp environment, amid the regular chaos on Voyager it’s discovered that they can withstand just about anything due to the nature of the Threshold mutation (essentially, having briefly existed at every point in the universe at Warp 10, the human body attempted to adapt to all of them, settling on Extremophilic Amphibian as Most Likely To Survive Everywhere) – a trait which comes in handy in some particular disasters.

Language is an interesting challenge with the triplets – they can understand Federation Standard, but can’t vocalize it, so they have to come up with and teach their own chirp-based analogues (coding “Pakimese” into the ship’s translator becomes Micah’s pet project).

Their physical growth is also unusual, quite different from their parents (it seems being born fishy is more stable than having fishiness thrust upon one), as they slowly develop more humanoid arms and thoraces while never showing hind leg stumps – by adulthood they’ve nearly gone full mermaid.

To help the kids get around the ship without having to crawl everywhere, Harry and B’elanna develop mobility devices for them, creating a sort of hybrid wheelchair-segway that allows the kids to lie forward in their natural posture rather than sit backwards in a chair.

Harry gets a promotion. This has nothing to do with Threshold, it just needs to happen.

Tom’s initially reluctant to pursue a relationship with B’elanna with his family obligations, but Harry eventually encourages him. When the two get married, Harry and the kids are Tom’s groomsmen, and when B’elanna gets pregnant, family swim time is one of the first planned activities.

Once contact is reestablished with the Alpha Quadrant, it takes Harry a few tries before he works up the courage to tell his family about their new additions. It takes John and Mary a while to fully grasp their origins (“Who’s the lucky girl?” “Um… Tom?”), but they adore their grandkids from day one.

Tom, meanwhile, staunchly refuses to inform his father about his grandchildren, not wanting him to mess them up too – when Voyager finally reaches Earth, Owen Paris damn near has a heart attack when he finds Tom with 2 partners and 4 kids.

In adulthood, Philo becomes a geoengineer and joins one of the first permanent survey outposts in the Delta Quadrant, reconnecting with and later marrying her childhood friend Mezoti. Micah settles on Earth as a xenolinguistics professor, programming fantasy holonovels in their spare time. Jamie is the only one to join Starfleet as an officer, studying astrogation and becoming the first “human” in Cetacean Ops.

[boytearscore]

i dare you to try. — chris sturniolo.

summary: you finally decided to join a car video with the triplets after years of them trying to convince you to, but when the topic “who’s more stubborn, you or chris?” is brought up, things take a peculiar turn in which chris is sure he can be the first guy you beg for, so you dare him to try.

warnings: fem!dom, chris!dom, smut, teasing, foreplay, swearing, choking, orgasm denial, size kink, bdsm.

author’s note: this one is for my chris girlies, initially i wanted to make it oneshot, but i love to tease you guys so it will be divided in two short parts, the second one will be released tonight so don’t worry and just enjoy!

𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 (𝟷/𝟸)

everything started after you filmed a video with the sturniolo triplets, you’ve been friends with them for a while and after much pleading, you finally agreed to be a guest.

it was the talk nonsense and just hope it’s funny type of shit, so you didn’t freak out too much about it.

all went smoothly, you were having fun and laughing hard every five minutes, but then they changed the topic to who’s more stubborn, chris or you.

suddenly you both were arguing about it, leaving a nick and a matt almost dying from laughing.

“bro, you’re basically a child!” you point at chris’ face and roll your eyes. “remember when we all told you to NOT drink too many energy drinks, so you inhaled fucking four and almost died from a heart attack?”

nick nods and matt is just out of breath, staring at both of you. chris crosses his arms, preparing his comeback and squinting his eyes at you.

“why is this relevant?” he asks, raising a brow. “you’re the one who refuses to drink water because ‘it tastes bad’, you’re just dehydrated, dude! drink water, it’s not that hard.”

as the back and forth argument continued, nick just looks at the camera and says:

“point proved.” he laughs and then grabs his phone. “i wonder if one of you would actually admit you’re wrong one day.”

you two look at nick, and matt agrees. “yeah, besides being stubborn, you two are also too proud.”

“none of those things are true.” you yell at matt, but your voice is shaken from laughing so they all laugh too. “i just like to stand my ground, and this little boy right here wouldn’t convince me to do shit even if his life depended on it.”

chris was dumbfounded with so many insults, but what got to him was “little boy” and the fact that you underestimated him. he was indeed too proud, but he was very confident as well, and never really had to work hard to get what he wants when it comes to his needs, so that made him hungry for proving you wrong.

unfourtunately for him, you were just exactly the same, but worse.

he looks at nick, and then at the camera, a smirk forming on the corner of his lips.

“make sure to edit this part out of the video.” he says, and the three of you just stare at him with big question mark faces, then his eyes turned to you, he had a determined expression and that just made your curiosity grow bigger within every second.

“you can say all you want…” he starts, the smirk turning into an evil smile. “but i’m sure i can make you beg.”

there was silence, an exchange of looks between you four and then the loud noises of laughter.

“beg you to do what, chris?” you ask him. “the only thing i’d beg you to do is shut the fuck up.” you leaned against the car sit, since you both were next to each other, all he did was incline his face closer to you.

“to be submissive for the first time with a guy.” he whisper into your ear, making sure nick and matt hear it too. they both are in shock, amused and extremely invested and you… well, that did not surprised you, to be honest. you always tell the triplets about your love life, how you deal with guys and so did they. there was definitely similarities between you and chris. such as, never dating, never being clingy and most importantly, always being on the dominant side.

you grin at him with arms crossed, faces still close because he didn’t back off after saying it.

“i dare you to try.” you reply with a firm tone and he chuckles while nick and matt are losing it in the back seat.

“holy shit…” nick murmured with his hand over his mouth, eyes paying attention to every detail of your mannerism to see any kind of resistance or fear on you, but he got nothing.

“so...” you finally break the silence, checking your lipgloss in the rear mirror and then turning to chris. “what do i get if you fail?”

he thinks for a while and bite his lips, trying to think of something that wouldn’t risk his social life or reputation. he knew you and your thoughts, nothing too good would come out of your mouth if you choose.

“if i fail, which i won’t…” he begins and you give him an eye roll. “i’ll listen to every command of yours, not complaining or being stubborn, and the hardest part…” he says, sighing. he can’t believe he’s about to say that. “i’ll admit i’m wrong.”

you think for a moment, plotting the most unspeakable things inside your head. there’s no reason to not agree since you know you won’t lose.

“you got yourself a deal, little boy.” you tell him, shaking his hand.

“what the fuck?” matt yells and all of you laugh, continuing the video until later that night.

[yandere-sins]

Today, I was thinking about Kar'niss the drider, who—mad and confused—stumbles over a nearly dead darling in the Shadowlands.

You're already as good as gone, life sapped out of you mercilessly by the shadows gnawing at you. They burn your skin and dig into your very soul while strangling you slowly, agonizingly to death, trying to take over your body and make you into one of the lifeless puppets wandering around unprotected. It's your own fault for getting into this mess, yet you prayed and wished for nothing more than to be released from the torture.

Perhaps that's why it's so surprising when instead of eternal, restless death, your body is enveloped in a gentle light, bright and freeing you of the shadows that quickly retreat. You gasp and wheeze as you jolt back to life, coughing and contorting until you finally get your own mind back.

It hurts to look, yet you cannot help but stare into the blinding light, trying to determine where it's coming from. Only now can you make out faint noises coming from it, the shadows having wrecked your hearing badly enough so that you didn't notice it before. Metal clanking and a voice. It almost makes you believe in a god again, as you mistake the light to be talking to you.

Imagine the shock, the ice-cold shiver that runs through you when your eyes finally adjust. When the real monster behind the voice comes into the light, mumbling and yelling nonsensical phrases about 'feeding the shadows' and 'her majesty's will'. Half of its body resembles a man, the other half is spider through and through. His skin seems more leathery and armored, and his fingertips are contorted into claws. What you thought were dark jewels adorning his face turn out to be eyes, and you choke on a scream as they blink, their focus suddenly shifts entirely on you.

"Who are you? What are you doing, feeding the shadows?! It's not right, it's not...! Ah, yes, your majesty! Your light guides us, protects us. We are eternally grateful!"

As if almost dying and being rescued by a drider isn't bad enough, madness seems to be dripping off of him the moment he notices you through his hazy mind. You can tell that there is no reasoning with your savior, no last bit of sanity to appeal to, your instincts tell you. He leans down, and you cower, trying to get away. But the moment you leave the lantern's glow, you feel the shadows reaching for you again. You have no idea what's going on as the drider makes another step forward, the light enveloping you again, but you start to listen to his rambles, the way he calls out to some queen, reverently so.

And your blood runs cold when, in his mumbles, you hear him call you a gift.

"My queen, are you giving them to me? Is this my reward? I will not complain about this most generous gift, majesty!"

Your arm is caught by him quicker than you can get away, though his grip only tightens when you struggle, his skin feeling wrong against yours. Appalling. But when you stop thrashing like a fly caught in a spiderweb, he gently pulls you to a stand, waiting for you to regain your strength before he starts walking, tugging you with him. The shadows want to reach for you, pull you back, and you fearfully step closer to the drider, making him chuckle.

There's nothing you can do, his grip on you firm and the shadows being the only alternative to walking with him. He keeps blubbering and laughing about his thoughts, conversing with someone you can't see but who he seems to revere. But at the same time, you feel at least one pair of eyes fixating on you in every moment of your journey, even if you don't know which one is looking. Everything about him is freaking you out, but when you reach a massive building with people walking around, you can't help but feel thankful to the drider for bringing you back to civilization.

That is, until someone tries to talk to you. He does not like that.

Letting go of your arm, he snatches you by your waist instead, your feet dangling above the ground while you feel the air being forced out of your lungs from the pressure he puts you against his chest with. It's all so unnatural, and you can't help but struggle in fear when, suddenly, his bellowing voice makes you freeze.

"NO! This is my gift! Our Queen has gifted them to me! They are not for you to take! You are not worthy!"

And just like that, after baring his fangs and driving away the people you thought were going to help you, his anger disappears almost immediately as he cradles you, cooing much softer words in your direction than to the others. "It's alright, sweet gift. They'll not take you from me. We'll be together, as has our Queen decided."

With that, you feel like your body is flying through the air, clutched against him, as his many legs are swiftly put into motion. When you force yourself to look over his shoulder, you are already far up in the air, watching the ground distance itself more and more. All you can do is cling onto him in fear of falling to your death, and he breathes you in deeply before you two reach the top, his lips contorted into a smile when you finally meet his eyes again.

"Mine, all mine. My sweet little gift."

NSFW-ish below

I'd like to think he has taken one of the free towers that are more or less empty and spun a pretty web for his darling inside. Kar'niss takes care of you, rarely letting you outside (only if you convinced him over the span of days that you'd so like to take a stroll with him) because he really doesn't want anyone else to see, touch, or talk to what is his, even when he needs to go and guide souls to the tower. You will probably go as insane as he is, listening to his rambling and trying to appease him when you accidentally say something to send him into a fit of rage.

There are so many ways to punish you, too. Simply leaving you in the darkness after your almost death reverts you into a crying, sobbing mess that Kar'niss will love to soothe you, dedicating himself to cuddling and cradling you in his arms and lolling around in the web with you while he tells you he and the grace of her majesty are always with you. 

He's also just painful to be around, especially when he's so irrational, and you cannot move out of the way of his fangs, claws, and legs. Everything about him feels strange, giving you no comfort, but he can hurt you so easily it makes you paranoid. When you ask him to, or he's currently obsessing over you, his touch can be gentle, and Kar'niss has proven his soft caresses to you many times. But if a leg or his hands accidentally swipes you, you bleed. It's just how things are. 

Also, suppose you displease him by speaking against his queen or setting him off by denying him the pleasure of being with you. In that case, he'll just stop caring for you, sitting outside the tower where he keeps you, and sulks. (The Absolute is probably telling him to go back, so he's also bickering a bit with her. Kind of an impressive achievement on your side.) He listens to you and waits until you start begging and pleading for him (or anyone) to come back and help you, to not leave you there to rot like this. Yet, Kar'niss makes you suffer for a while longer to punish you while ensuring no one comes near you. 

But it does excite him when he goes back, and you cry and call to him and apologize for what you did, swearing you won't do it again. Excites him a lot. You do love him too, don't you? Of course you do... his queen would not have given you to him if that wasn't the case. You are meant for each other, after all. So he can forgive you this time.

Once he realizes you're in need of a parasite, he'll probably start connecting his disturbed mind with yours, giving you severe brain damage as you are flooded with his thoughts. But it'll finally give him the chance to show you exactly what he wants. Force you to believe in the Absolute like him by torturing you with his devotion and admiration until you break. Now, you'll finally understand your purpose as his mate, too. Accept him. Share his love for you and his majesty.

And since he has a new deity talking to him that isn't Lolth, who knows he cannot have children, Kar'niss might be convinced that he's supposed to make babies for the Absolute. He can't, technically (and maybe you can't either), but that doesn't stop him from talking about how he'll give his majesty new worshippers and how the two of you will be so worthy of her and have Absolute-babies. Kar'niss gets so excited at the idea of you being full and round from his offspring he almost drools, unable to wait any longer once the seed has been planted in his shattered mind.

So all you can do is ask him nicely to prepare you, to make sure he doesn't rip something or is gentle with those sharp claws and teeth no matter how eager he is. Just imagine how happy he'd be when you tell him that you could possibly be pregnant after all the orgasms he gave you—a lie, but you just really need him to stop. He'll be enraged if he finds out that you are not, but hey, he can always try again. And maybe someone will come to help him with his plan. Maybe Araj Oblodra could be convinced to offer a child or spider eggs to quench the Drider's baby frenzy, or the Absolute will give him a child like she gave him a darling.

Either way, until he dies, you're not getting out of this. And even then, someone would have to find you first and rescue you.

If they don't deem you too far gone already.

[mywitchyblog]

Message to @alphaltrainreflection

First of all, bitch, where did I ever say anything about "eroticizing inferiority"? Like, be fucking for real. Show me the receipts. Because unless you’re reading between lines that don’t exist, nothing in my post said anything about power dynamics, submission, or “inferiority.” It sounds like you’re projecting some judgmental bullshit that I didn’t even invite into the conversation. So let’s start there—check yourself before you come into my space twisting my words to fit your weird little agenda.

Second of all, and I mean this with every ounce of sincerity, shut the fuck up. Genuinely, if you don’t like what you see, don’t interact. It’s that simple. Not everyone has to match your narrow idea of what shifting is “supposed” to be. Shifting isn’t some gated community where you get to play security guard and decide who’s allowed in. So do us all a favor, take that rigid-ass energy, and keep it to yourself, bitch.

Let’s be real for a second. You said, “sex freaks who insist on eroticizing inferiority are ruining shifting.” Bitch, nobody’s ruining anything—especially not me. All I said was that I want to get fucked. Plain and simple. If my desire to shift for a good time offends you, you’re free to move along. Shifting means different things to different people, and if sex is part of that, it’s totally valid. If I want to shift to a reality for some damn good dick, who the fuck are you to get all sanctimonious about it? Newsflash: your opinion on what’s “appropriate” doesn’t apply here, darling.

And let’s get one thing fucking clear, because clearly, you need this spelled out: even if someone did want to shift to a reality where they take on a more passive, submissive role, what of it? Why the fuck does that bother you so much? Some people spend their whole lives having to be strong, holding shit together, constantly defending themselves, and staying in control just to survive. Maybe, just maybe, they want to create a reality where they can finally let go, surrender, and trust someone who respects them and won’t take advantage of them. Imagine that—feeling safe enough to let down your guard and explore a side of yourself you don’t get to express in this life. For some people, that’s healing. For others, it’s fun. Either way, it’s their choice, not yours. So back the fuck off.

So let’s talk about this “ruining shifting” nonsense you pulled out of nowhere. Bitch, the only thing “ruining” anything is people like you, stomping into conversations uninvited and acting like you’re the gatekeeper of how others should experience their desires. You’re clinging to this imaginary rulebook about what’s “appropriate” for shifting as if that makes you morally superior, but all it does is make you look insecure, judgmental, and way too invested in other people’s business. Spoiler alert: nobody gives a fuck about your approval or needs it to validate their experience.

Here’s the truth, since you seem to need a wake-up call: shifting is deeply personal. It’s about self-determination and freedom, not conforming to some rigid-ass code of conduct set by random bitches on the internet. If someone wants to shift for spiritual growth, self-discovery, sexual exploration, or all of the above, that’s their fucking prerogative. Shaming them because it doesn’t align with your limited, vanilla-ass view of what’s “appropriate” is straight-up pathetic.

And by the way, bitch, sex is a natural, beautiful, and completely valid part of life. If I want to shift for sex, or if someone else wants to shift to feel cherished, adored, or, yes, even submissive, that’s nobody’s fucking business but ours. Maybe instead of trying to drag others down to your level of insecurity, you could take a hard look in the mirror and figure out why other people’s sexual autonomy bothers you so damn much. Because this isn’t about “ruining shifting”; it’s about you being uncomfortable with the idea of someone enjoying themselves in a way that’s different from what you deem acceptable. Maybe some self-reflection would do you some good.

To every other shifter out there who’s ever been made to feel guilty or “lesser” for shifting for your own reasons, listen up: you don’t owe anyone an explanation, and you don’t need anyone’s approval. Your DR, your fucking rules. If shifting for you is about finding love, intimacy, exploration, or yes, even some good dick, that’s your choice. Don’t let some insecure bitch shame you or make you feel like you’re somehow ruining the experience just because it doesn’t fit into their narrow little box. Shifting is about creating the life and reality you want to live—whatever the fuck that looks like for you.

So, here’s a suggestion: take your unsolicited, holier-than-thou attitude and keep it to yourself. If you can’t handle seeing people talk openly about their desires and goals for shifting, then bitch, scroll past and save yourself the outrage. Because at the end of the day, I’m not here to please you, and neither is anyone else. We’re here to live our best lives, however we see fit, and if that’s too much for you, the door’s right over there.

To everyone who’s out here shifting for what they want, keep going. Own your desires, own your reality, and don’t let anyone’s outdated judgment make you feel like you’re doing it wrong. Shifting is your journey, and if that includes exploring intimacy, vulnerability, or sexuality, you’re not alone. You’re valid, and your experience is just as real and important as anyone else’s.

Consider this your reminder that no one’s begging for your approval. I’ll be over here, unbothered, shifting for exactly what I want, and loving every fucking second of it. ✨

[glassica]

Surprise boyfriend

Notes: M!yan x F!reader, non-con, sexual language, cursing, pregnancy trapping, blackmailing threats

"Hey Y/N, heard you go out with Ray right?"

You spat out the remaining cold brew. You? Go out with whom???

People must've assumed you were into him after seeing your exchanges at the party. But you swear that wasn't that serious at all! You were just fooling around to kill time!

- No. Who told you that?

- Ray posted about you all over his insta. Yeah right you don't use that app... But what do you mean you two aren't dating!?

You took one look at your friend's phone. Lo and behold, countless pictures of you and him holding hands and acting all lovey-dovey like a real couple. Your brain juggled through the hazy memories to see when the selfies were taken but oh dear, you were so drunk off the mind on that night to recall everything.

- Ray, excuse me. Do you have a moment?

- Sweetie I always have time for you. What do baby want from me now? ~

His cheesy line brought shattering earthquakes to your brain. God this man had zero shame, or you had been cursed to carry the embarrassment baggage on his behalf. "If we were alone I'd rip his ass off right instant." - you thought. "And I'll never have time for your goofy ass."

- I believe you misunderstood our relationship. I must've said something deceitful to you during at the party and I'll take responsibility for that. I don't plan to date you or anyone, Ray. I'm so sorry for misleading you.

You spoke in a remorseful tone. Though not able to recollect what nonsense the mouth had blabbered, you felt like owning him an apology regardless. Kids this was why you should never let peer pressure get to you and drink over limits, you never knew if one day you accidentally being entangled with some jackass.

Surprisingly Ray's expression didn't seem to fazed for a bit. On the contrary, the grin on his face got even more ominous and deranged, alerted your sixth sense that nothing coming out from this man was any good: It was a grave mistake involving him in your life.

"My baby wanna break up with me? Oh sweetheart how could you abandon me like that? Have you forgot your little promises to me about love and loyalty? Didn't you say I was your type, that your greatest wish was to be wrapped in my arms every night and showered your body with plenty of kisses?"

Freak. Weirdo. Creep.

How could anyone breath in the same direction of this guy and not get their skin crawled for a second? You were both amused and pissed off witnessing this whole circus show, wondering how out mind you were last Friday to be attracted to this walking joke of a man.

Get this over quickly, or you would end up committing some atrocities on that stupid face.

"I wasn't sober at the time. I must've been spewing rubbish. I'm really sorry for lying to you Ray, but can you please take down those pictures?"

"Why should I? I need to show off everyone my Sweetie's already taken, so that no one could touch you. Besides," - Ray tucked his head over your shoulder, the eerily off-putting grin grew even wider as he whispered softly to your ears, "those pics aren't the only proof of our unshakable bond."

He trailed off, calmly put a hand on your belly.

Your mind went blank.

"BITCH! YOU FUCKING RAPED ME!?"

"Now now. You hurt my heart, Sweetie. How could you accuse me of such heinous crime when all I did so much to give you such good time on bed? And don't lie, your pussy was cumming hard for my crotch. I still can recall those pretty little buds-"

Just then, Ray felt a burning heat on his left cheek. You were done. Completely dropped off manners. Eyes flaming with disgust and resentment while both hands clenching fist furiously, you became a wild animal determined to chew off its prey to the bone. You didn't care about anything else, any consequences after, your absolute goal at the moment was to tear this asshole to shreds.

But Ray was infuritatingly nonchalant, cocky even. He wasn't bothered for a bit when facing your wrath. Rubbing hand on the reddish cheek, he continued:

"Don't you believe you can brush your hand away from me, love. I don't like anyone seeing my angel in her purest form, but I have no problem releasing those clips."

A sadistic chuckle let out of his mouth observing the bloodthirst drained out from your face. If you didn't want him as your prince, then he wouldn't hesitate becoming the big bad villain tainting your life forever.

Ray caught your lifeless body in a loving embrace, just like that Friday night, and many more nights in the future.

[etherfabric]

Encouragement from your Spirit Guides

Choose a pile by which picture you resonate with the most.

If your mind is too busy to clearly decide, take a few deep breaths, and use the finger of your non-dominant hand to hover over the images. One will give off the most subtle yet prominent signals, like tingles, a magnetic pull, or temperature. This is your pile. Multiples are also possible.

You are the ultimate authority over your life. I merely provide my perspective. Sometimes the Universe lines you up with something that doesn't resonate with your truth, so you have contrast to find out what does. Never give away your power.

Pile 1

The Fool, 9 of Swords

Ditch the phrase "Do it scared." When you bulldoze through your fear, you hurt yourself. It is a part of you that you will never transcend, because you need it. You can't expect any sustainable outcome from this violent approach. Your Spirit Guides see your efforts and want you to know that you hit the mark a long time ago already, and they are doing all they can to line you up with more positive experiences. They don't want you to use force against your most vulnerable parts for the sake of progress that is not even due yet.

You were told by misguided people that you are too sensitive, too slow, too lazy when you feel comfortable. This is not the case. The Universe likes slow. It likes gentle, loving approaches. It will meet you where you are at. Trust in your innate worth of good things, and don't whip yourself to places and situations you aren't ready for. Good things will come - for example the much calmer state of mind you will have once you don't betray your own trust anymore by ignoring your boundaries. You deserve kindness, patience and everything you need to feel safe. Listen to your fear. It needs your love.

Pile 2

Strength, King of Cups

Standing ovation for your emotional resilience! Your Spirit Guides are so freaking proud of you. You found a place within yourself where you can watch the waters of your soul ebb and flow in sovereignty. Even the stormiest currents can't rock you enough to lose your focus on what's important to you. You exude an air of compassion towards yourself that is inspiring.

What you deemed impossible and beyond your depth not so long ago is now already second nature to you. What an evolution to witness! Take pride in the thousands of conscious impulses that led you here. Let the imposter syndrome swim its laps, you know where it stems from, and you know that's not the whole story.

Beware of your knack for arrogance, the other end of that spectrum, and the future looks peachy.

Pile 3

The World, The Moon

Your Spirit Guides want you to know that there is closure to a deep rooted doubt on the horizon. They way you are carrying yourself in the last few days is amicable, and benefits the integration of one of your deepest wounds. Healing comes in many forms, and you have experienced a good handful of them already. Buckle up for a whole new variant of dimension in this regard - things you deemed lost forever will be ever so close to your grasp again and provide you with a surge of motivation you couldn't imagine before.

When the shadows of the past cloud your judgement, hold onto the smidge of light creeping through, especially when it seems like a lukewarm joke that just can't be true. From the perspective of despair, hope always seems ridiculous. Well, get a little silly, then. Dancing naked might sound like the worst humiliation, but only to those who haven't tasted that kind of freedom yet. Get ready to hear the music soon.

Pile 4

Two of Pentacles, Queen of Swords

Oh how you are chopping down that bullshit quickly! No time for nonsense is written all over your forehead, and for the metaphorically illiterate, you have no trouble spelling it out ever so clearly. Your Spirit Guides are in awe of your determination when it comes to your boundaries. You are loyal to your highest principles, no matter what. You know for certain that your wants and needs have a valid foundation, and you won't tolerate any projected shame on that part.

In the past, people could drag you into psychological tug-of-wars that left you off balance either way, whether you "won" or "lost". Now you smell that game from a mile away and don't even touch that rope. Just one little advice: Choose your battles. Not every boundary has to be set in stone, and not every crossing of one is a fundamental failure on your part you have to avoid at all costs, or else. Humans are multitudes of parts, all with their own unique set of requirements, and context is always a factor.

But still, look at you and how far your shadow work around speaking up has taken you! Who would've thought that one day you would need a reminder that soft is okay, too? ;)

[incandescentflower]

Still thinking about episode 4 of Thamepo. What I am really enjoying about it is that it's of the *all the lead characters are very sincere and ultimately care about each other* variety of drama, with the added bonus of it being focused on more adult feeling relationships.

It gives me Cherry Magic vibes with how it's earnest, fuffy and emotionally open, while focusing on the importance of communication in relationships. I love all of these aspects. And no shade on Achi, but I like that we get this without either of the romantic leads having an emotional freak out about their own feelings.

They haven't even directly said anything yet, but they continuing to show their interest bit by bit. Thame is clearly not too great at communication. It part of the reason the group fell apart. We can all see how Thame is extremely interested in Po (even if Jun can't, although honestly I think he is doing a little poking on purpose here to determine if Po is worthy) and yet he let himself get distracted with what was happening with the group because that is central to his life.

People don't always respond right away, but Thame recognizes that they hadn't really set expectations on that and correctly identifies the precarious nature of what is happening between them. He also is now understanding his own tendencies that ended up causing issues with the group, so he felt it was important to address it.

Thame says he wants to make sure the people who are important to him know that they are. They are telling each other so much, but still kinda walking a tight rope, which is why Po first thought Thame was saying he wanted friendship. And then Thame quickly picked up that vibe and made it clear - he wants to be close to Po.

I love that kind of thing. The honest, realistic challenges of communication. It doesn't have to be silly or contrived, communication is hard! Being honest with feelings is hard! People misunderstand each other on the daily and it takes work to communicate.

I really do hope that they continue this kind of theme and don't throw in anything too contrived that isn't, you know, pop idol nonsense because the authenticity in the core relationship is really what is selling me right now.

[vickythefamiliar]

The (chaos) Coven

This is me, a tarantula on the "Witches Road"

At first I wanna say I did not understand why the hell Rio played along with Agatha... It was soooo exhausting omg.

But nvm, I spend way too much time with these witches so here is my opinion on each one of them:

Jennifer

Jennifer? Oh, she’s something else. The ‘all-business, no-nonsense’ vibe is impressive, I’ll give her that.

She’s sharp, like she’s always three steps ahead of everyone, and her wardrobe? Immaculate. I’m convinced she could outdress the apocalypse. She’s got this energy that either makes you want to follow her into battle or stay ten feet away at all times.

I don’t dislike her, but let’s just say she’s not the first person I’d share my cookies with.

Lilia

When I first met Lilia, I thought: Finally, a grandma! She probably bakes nonstop and has a secret stash of cookies somewhere. Wrong. So wrong.

She’s feisty, unpredictable, and somehow always ten steps ahead. Honestly, it’s unsettling.

That said, I’ve gotta admit, her vibe is kind of iconic. The hair? A masterpiece. The whole ‘hippie meets mystical grandma meets chaotic freak’ aesthetic? Approved.

But seriously, Lilia, if you do have cookies, stop holding out on me. Sharing is caring.

Alice

Alice... Where do I start? She’s got this whole ‘the world is against me’ thing going on. Honestly, it’s a little exhausting.

Like, girl, maybe your mom wrote that ballad for a reason other than just to mess with you. Ever think of that? No? Didn’t think so.

But underneath all the eye rolls and melodrama, there’s something real there. She just hasn’t figured herself out yet. She’s a work in progress, I guess.

Cookies for her? Maybe once she chills out. Maybe.

Billy/ Teen/ Wiccan (whatever)

Ah, the prodigy with an attitude. Kid’s got power, no doubt about it, but he’s also got that ‘I know better than everyone else’ vibe. Which, honestly, is kind of funny coming from someone who can barely handle his own magic.

But I’ll give him this—he’s determined. He’s like a little storm in the making, and you can’t help but want to see where it’ll go.

Would I share my cookies with him? Maybe, if he asks nicely.

Agatha... (I call her "the ex-wife I didn’t sign up for")

Agatha? Don’t even get me started. She’s powerful, no doubt, but it’s like she’s always trying to out-drama everyone in the room. She’s got this weird mix of arrogance and insecurity, and honestly, it’s exhausting.

Like, she’ll act like she’s got everything under control, but then, boom, she's throwing a tantrum because Rio didn’t call her back.

But hey, gotta admit, she’s got style—witchy, eccentric, a little unhinged. Honestly though, I'm just here for the chaos.

On the other hand she broke my mistresses heart more than once so I said it before and I say it again: If you're Agatha Harkness - LEAVE.

No cookies for her.

That's it. That's the post!

-🕷💚