#There is no USED TO BE there is simply THAT IS ME and I AM THAT

[itsrlymine]

i apologize for the really long ask but i really wanted to share my thoughts and i would make my own loa blog but i dont have it in me to deal with anons so i fear i will dump them all on you 😔 first off i want to say THANKKKK YOUUUUUU you literally changed my manifestation journey i used to be really into manifestation back in 2021/2022 and i was trying to manifest my dream face but it never happened no matter how much i affirmed or listened to subs or anything so i was just like fuck it this manifesting stuff isnt real imma just move on with my life and thats how i went about my life until you popped up on my dashboard a month ago and usually i would click not interested on any loa content but i was like you know what lemme give this stuff a chance again bc i did try the non manifesting route and it didnt work out bc when i tell you my life went DOWNHILL i used to protect myself from negative experiences by having the belief that i was simply the exception to terrible stuff but the moment i left the loa behind and was like no thats unrealistic anything can happen well guess what!! so many bad stuff happened in my life the last 2 years its genuinely crazy. so i was like lemme try this again and i went through your blog and really tried to materialize everything you were saying and read it with the attitude that what you are saying IS real instead of the doubting attitude i had towards loa advice/info back in 2022 and things really shifted for me.

so the first thing i learned is that MANIFESTATION IS REAL and more importantly NOTHING IS IMPOSSIBLE what i went through these past two years was proof to me that manifestation is real because once i adopted that negative mindset and dropped any positive beliefs i had my life became a nightmare and all those terrible thoughts manifested right before my eyes. for example i used to believe that i always looked pretty no matter what, this was just something part of my belief system but when i abandoned the law and everything i told myself no thats crazy i cant mAniFeSt looking pretty its unrealistic if im not pretty then im just not and bro when i tell you i was at my lowest appearance wise I WAS AT MY LOWESSTT my classmates at school would come up to me and tell me i looked so different and so dull even my mom would say the same stuff to me and tell me i changed i also noticed a difference when i looked in the mirror. the reason why i felt like manifestation wasnt real was because it just seemed really crazy to me, i felt like things materializing out of nowhere and appearances changing drastically was just like something fantastical and just not possible here in the real world. well i am here to tell you that is NAWT THE CASE! the world is not logical and im gonna tell you why. most of us here have grew up religious, and whats more illogical than religion? there are so many stories in the bible where illogical stuff happen like youre telling me some guy can turn water into wine? doesnt that sound like something out of a fantasy movie? but it happened, right? you believe in the bible so you believe in all the stuff that happened in it even the magical stuff. and another thing with growing up religious is that we always hear stories about miracles where for example a neighbor who was really sick suddenly woke up completely healthy. and we also were taught that we can ask god for anything and that god can make anything happen. i remember when my dad would teach me about religion he would say that god can make the grass is purple if he wanted to. it isnt just in religion but also in another spiritual communities and stuff they also have their own stories where things that dont really make sense logically happen. this goes to show that the world and humanity were never logical and that illogical things can happen, they've been happening since the dawn of time. people just came up with their own explanations. so get that thought that you cant change your entire face because its too crazy out of your head because it isn't. anything is possible. we literally live on a rock and we somehow move and speak and talk and somehow atoms exist so pls get with the program aint nothing logical in this life and the sooner you come to terms with that the better. nothing is too crazy because existence itself is crazy.

the second thing i learned was that MANIFESTATION IS NOT A PROCESS. i used to hear this all the time back in 2022 and it never made sense to me i was always like what tf are yall talking about???? my understanding was that manifestation is the act of trying to get something, but i was so so wrong. everything changed for me when i started approaching manifestation with the attitude that i was reminding myself of what i have, not trying to get what i want. basically stop thinking of manifestation as manifestation if ykwim. to really understand this im gonna have to talk about the whole "decide that you have your desire > affirm that you have it > keep presisting" thing and break it down.

so what do people mean when they tell you to decide that you have your desire? does it mean saying out loud "i have __" and then a few seconds going "alright wheres my ___?" no. it means you in your mind decide that its ALREADY YOURS and that you ALREADY GOT IT. i dont know how to word this any differently because its so simple its literally in the words. im gonna try an example. im assuming that youre reading this with your eyes so you have eyes. are you trying to 'manifest' having eyes? when you say "i have eyes" are you using an affirmation to get eyes? is having eyes a desire youre trying to 'manifest'? no because you literally already have eyes bro how else are you reading this with your bootyhole??? so when you say "i have eyes" you arent manifesting via affirming, youre just saying it to remind yourself because well you have eyes. you arent trying to manifest eyes because you already have them. thats what it means to decide that your desire is yours. it means to stop treating what is yours as a desire because its literally yours. stop seeing it as something youre trying to manifest because you already have it, wtf do you need to manifest for? do you get it? don't think of doing this as you tricking your mind into thinking you have your desires because AGAINN you arent tricking anything you literally already have it. when you say "i have eyes" and you have eyes are you trying to trick gour brain? no. that sounds silly. im sorry that this is so repetitive but its literally that simple idk what everyone else is doing complicating the most simple thing ever.

and now, what do people mean by affirm that you have it? does that mean using affirmations to manifest your 'desire'? (i put desire in quotations bc you already have it since you decided you do) no. it simply means reminding yourself that you do. ill go back to the eyes example. if you were to say "i have eyes" right now would you understand that as some woo woo manifestation affirmation technique? no because you already have eyes. what youre doing is simply stating a fact and reminding yourself of it for funsies. you arent trying to manifest anything because you already have it. affirming doesn't mean tricking your brain or your subconscious that you have your desire or whatever, its just you reminding yourself.

and finally, what does it mean to persist? does that mean fighting for your life trying to convince yourself that you have your desire? no. because you already have it. it simply means that everytime you ask yourself "oh why isnt this showing up in my 3d?" you tell yourself "bro what tf are you on about were not manifesting anything we already have it are you crazy?" that's all. going back to the eyes example, you know you have eyes, so if someone came up to you rn and was like "hey did your eyes come in yet?" you'd probably think they hit their head or something because your eyes are literally right there its how youre seeing their dumbass. that's the same attitude you have to have towards your 'desires'. stop thinking of your 'desires' as desires, stop thinking youre trying to manifest anything, stop thinking you have to wait for anything to show up in the 3d or that the 3d is lagging behind or whatever, stop seeing manifestation as manifestation, stop imagining yourself sending in success stories asks when you get your desires, basically just stop dawg. you already have it. "dont contradict yourself" (although again you arent contradicting anything bc you already have it im just running out of ways to simply something thats already so simple). thats what it means to manifest instantly.

anyways thats all i wanted to say. im so sorry for the horrendously long ask i would make it even longer by talking about my success now but i think you would beat my ass if i did. bye bye love u

!!!!! you ate this whole thing up. y'all better come read this.

[kamiversee]

𓆩 Crown of Sin 𓆪

Segment I Chapter: One

❀ ~ Synopsis > In which you’re a princess who's given a total of six months to converge & inaugurate a solid plan secure enough to rid you of your fated marriage arrangements to Naoya Zenin. 

❀ ~ Content > language, arranged marriage, tension from all over, bickering, mentions of a harem, etc.

❀ ~ Word Count > 5.6k

❀ ~ Pairings > jjk men & women x f!reader.

{ chapters m!list }

——You would rather die a thousand times over than become Naoya Zenin’s wife.

Something unorthodox must’ve plagued the mind of your parents this morning because there is simply no way they’d worked up such an audacity to happily relay this information to you. You were to be wed in six months time and yet, this is your first time hearing of such a proposal.

Hell, you hadn’t even received a literal proposal from this alleged fiancé of yours so, who exactly was orchestrating such a wedding and why had you no say nor awareness in it before now? 

“You two are humoring me right now, yes?” Your voice had carried throughout the space of the throne room with such grace that all the attendees of this rather small gathering couldn’t help but have their eyes drawn to you.

The few maids, guards at their posts within the room, your own mother and father who sat oh-so-comfortably upon their thrones, and the few others who were allowed to be in this space as such information was presented to you. Being the one to have ripped the bandage off and relayed said information to you recently, your mother cannot help but find her eyes drifting over to her husband for help.

The two exchange a knowing glance and you watch as they swallow down whatever nerves may have rested center in their throats. Then, your father’s shoulders raise ever so slightly and he averts his eyes over to you.

Voicing your name in that aged gruff tone of his, followed by a slight clearing of his throat, he begins to break the wafted air of silence. “You must understand that this is for the betterment of our nation. We rival none aside from the eastern nation so, naturally, it is only in our best interest to have you wed with the heir to the Zenin family throne.”

You scoff, openly. Eyes widen around the room and looks are exchanged by many but how do people expect you to react to this? Are you meant to be joyous about marrying the most pompous individual across all the lands, a man of which you have only ever encountered maybe two or three times in all your years of living?? Yeah, fuck that.

“So, I am meant to marry this man in six months' time, the engagement will be officially announced at tonight’s ball, and I haven’t a single say in this entire ordeal?” You breathe out carefully, your head tilting and eyes narrowing at the worried eyes of your parents.

Your mother responds with a shaky sigh, “Darling, we hadn’t any choice in this either. Our only options were to marry you off or go to war and we do not have the defenses to—”

“They threatened us?” You interrupt, another act that receives appalled looks from those spectating. “Please tell me you jest, mother. What could the East possibly hope to gain from going to war with us? We’ve been at peace for years and now all of a sudden—”

“Permission to speak,” Chimes another voice. Your eyes flick to your father’s left, landing on the one man he trusts with his life more than anyone else, your nation’s military general; Masamichi Yaga. “Your Highness.” He finishes off, gaze firm on the area of which you stand.

You take a moment to stare, taking in his roughened appearance despite the uniform that fits him so snuggly. Without realizing it, your eyes rake over his form up and down about twice before he clears his throat to break your lingering stare. “Granted,” You eventually allow with a nod of your head.

Yaga straightens up where he stands and exchanges a look of knowing with your father before he speaks loud and clear, “You are the princess of the second largest nation in our continent.” He states with a slightly quirked brow. 

Which prompts you only to roll your eyes a bit.

“I believe you out of anyone else should understand the natural target that is placed on your back. Especially considering you are also the only princess in said continent. You’ve been at the age liable for marriage for a few years now and the reality of this has finally set in. The marriage itself is to join the East nation and the West into one. Should you refuse Naoya’s hand, he would simply join the two nations by…” A slight grimace is noticed within his expression, “Force.”

Yet another scoff falls softly from your lips, “You say this to me as if he is incapable of marrying a man. Surely, someone like Prince S—”

“Now is not the time to joke, my lady.” Yaga interrupts as gently as he can, “He could very well go on and marry into one of the other royal families but they do not rule over our nation, now do they? The east is the largest of them all, our sole rival. Do you not see the importance of this marriage taking place? It is either that or war and, as our queen has so clearly told you, we do not have the defenses to—”

“And what of the other nations? The north? The south? Hell, even the smallest out there; Middom? Is it not possible for us to rally our defenses with them and..” Your voice trails to an eventual fall as you notice the look on Yaga’s face. He doesn’t even have to cut you off this time for you to realize this conversation isn’t going anywhere. 

You exhale and turn to your royal adviser who’s at your right side. Wide-set eyes and all, Higuruma merely offers you a nod of his head to silently console you. Like everyone else in this damn room, he was pleading for you to simply let this go and follow along with things like some pawn in everyone else’s game. 

“You would rather go to war and risk the lives of thousands than marry this man?” Yaga adds on to question.

Your lips quirked and you looked at him again, “Do you want my honest answer to that?”

“No, I would like your noble answer.” He replies dryly.

“Tch.” You huff, your face flattening. “Of course I would do anything to avoid war, I am not cruel. But I do hope all of you realize what joint nations entail for our future—their laws and customs will be indoctrinated into our society overnight. And if you think I will have any influence over that then you clearly know not of the man I am to marry. The words of a woman carry no weight with him.”

Your father is the next to speak up, “We are well aware of what this means for our future. But, it is either that or… death.”

With a crisp, yet obviously faux smile, you nod to that. “Right. Well, if that is all,” You begin to bow your head for respect, “Mother, Father, I shall excuse myself.”

Then you swivel around to make your exit, only to be stopped by the queen’s voice once more. “That is all?” She asks.

You paused in your steps but did not turn back to face her. “I’m unsure of what other argument you expect from me, mother. I either marry him or we go to war, what more could I possibly say to that?”

The sound of her sighing can be heard. It was almost as though she’d truly expected or maybe even anticipated a longer refute from you. “...Just,” Her words come out in a slow fashion and you get the feeling that she may be able to read your thoughts. “None of your schemes tonight, please? If you’re truly on board with this then don’t do anything brash—”

“I wouldn’t dare.” You cut off rather rudely, turning slightly to then cut your eye at her. “Now, if you will excuse me.”

No more words are exchanged as you hastily make your way out of the room, only the sounds of your heels echoing through the large archways and halls heard as you do so.

· · ──────── ·𖥸· ──────── · ·

Moments after you’d made your exit, two people had now taken your sides and followed rather closely behind you. Too nervous to say anything just yet, they both simply follow your hurried steps toward wherever you were off to without a word. 

One was your knight, who’d always followed close behind you since your teenage days, willing to throw herself into the face of death at any given moment simply for your sake. Tall, fit, blond, with a set of brown eyes any person could easily find themself lost in, stood Yuki Tsukumo proudly wearing that pristine royal guard uniform as her steps mirrored your own in speed.

Beside her was that pleasant royal advisor of yours, Higuruma Hiromi. Also quite tall (who wasn’t these days), wide, tired eyes, and a voice that typically drives you insane with annoyance given the number of lectures you’d received by it—he was careful to trail after you, given all that’d recently transpired. 

It’s a long walk of silence before your beloved knight breaks it. “I assume things went unwell back there?” Yuki hums cautiously as she fully takes your right side, leaving Higuruma slightly behind you.

“Your assumption would be correct,” You huff almost instantly as if you’d been waiting for either of them to say something to you. “I am to be wed in six months.”

Seeing as Yuki wasn’t exactly in the room while things were explained to you, she’d hardly a clue as to what had you pacing down the halls in such a determined fashion as you did currently. “Wed? Six months?? To whom?” She rushed out in alarm, her expression quick to contort into deep concern and alarm.

“The heir to the Zenin throne,” You say with a long sigh following shortly after.

“You can say his name y’know,” Higuruma comments before appropriately taking your left side.

You roll your eyes, “I would rather drop dead.”

At that, his feet come to a sudden halt and you and Yuki follow suit. “My lady, I know you are not fond of your… situation, but, what else can we do by this point? He will officially propose tonight and unless you can find another prince to do so before him in the next few hours then—”

It was like a literal lightbulb had gone off above that tiara-adorned head of yours, sparking Yuki’s eyes to rake over the excitement that washed against your features.

“Oh my, that’s brilliant.” You gasp with a turn to your recently spoken advisor.

“I simply cannot imagine how—pardon?” He choked, “You do know he is the only member of a royal family attending tonight, right? You couldn't possibly hope to… find a better suitor beforehand and even if you did, his highness would not have it.”

Every word of his seems to go through one ear and out the other as you take a step closer to him, flash a smile, and then move your hand to his arm. “My finest of gratitude to you, Sir. Higuruma.”

His eyes seem to widen with pure confusion. “...I do not understand.”

“You play your role as my advisor well, thank you.” You proceed, not caring to elaborate in the slightest. Then you turn away and begin walking again, “I know what I must do.”

His feet stammer to follow you once more, “And what might that be, my lady? You promised your mother–, the queen, that you wouldn’t do anything brash.”

“It willn’t be ‘brash’ at all.” You chirp simply.

“Then what—”

Pausing only one last time, you glance back at your awfully confused advisor and send him a reassuring grin. “Have my lady-in-waiting arrive to my room within the hour, I have a ball to prepare for.”

With that, your walk continues. Higuruma tries to follow you but he’s stopped by a hand meeting his chest. His brows pinch together just as he looks down, finding Yuki’s palm hovering over his chest in a silent motion to get him to stop. 

He then looks at her and opens his mouth to protest against everything that’d just happened but with a simple shake of her head before he could even get a word out, his shoulders sink and he ends up turning away with a huff.

· · ──────── ·𖥸· ──────── · ·

An hour does, in fact, fly by before you find yourself in the confines of your bedroom. With your feet meeting the soft cushions of a small stool, your head held high, and your mouth moving at such a rapid pace, you’d been venting to your lovely lady-in-waiting from the moment she’d arrived in your room.

“And the worst part of it all? If I am to marry that man then I will later be expected to carry an hier—fuck,” Your voice is cut short with a low curse as the strings securing the corset part of your dress are only pulled tighter from behind you. Your back straightens up a bit more than before and your voice pitches to a higher and breathier degree, “‘Hime, that’s… hah, too tight-, I can hardly breathe.”

She perks up from behind you and releases the strings from her grasp entirely, “Ah, I am so sorry, my lady!” The maiden gasps softly. Her fingers then trail upward along the fabric weaving through the corset holes and you feel her making steady adjustments. “I was so caught up in that story of yours that I uhm,” She loosens an area or two, allowing you a moment to breathe. “Got carried away… How’s this—better?”

You release a long exhale as your shoulders relax, “It’s much better now, as far as breathability is concerned. But,” Your eyes linger on the nearby propped up mirror and you ogle your figure closely. “Well, now it is too loose.”

In the mirror’s reflection, you notice those violet locks of hair resting atop her head sway to the right as her head tilts to study your figure from her angle better. “Hm. I see.” She utters to herself before taking hold of those strings once more. “I’m going to tighten it again, are you ready for it this time?”

With a nod, you glance back at her and raise your thumb up. “Mhm, pull until I say stop.”

Her hands begin to do just that, slowly pulling the strings to tighten the piece once more. As she gives her softened tugs, her eyes lift to your face and she watches the way a hitched breath leaves your lips. “Too tight?”

“Did I say stop?” You ask lightheartedly.

She shakes her head, “No, but–”

“Utahime,” You breathe her entire name so suddenly that her hands come to a halt immediately. “Keep pulling.”

Probably with some form of nervousness under your direct gaze and commanding tone, her head drops and she focuses her eyes back down to her hands—giving you one firm tug that makes your body jerk backward ever so slightly. You gasp, again, and this time a hand of yours moves back to grab her wrist.

“Right there,” You utter, “That is perfect, thank you.”

Utahime stares at your grasp on her wrist for a moment longer than necessary before clearing her throat and sealing that tightly pulled fabric with an appropriate knot. Then, she removes her hands from your dress entirely and takes a step back. “Well uh-, as you were saying, my lady?”

You’re busy twisting and turning slightly to gather your appearance in the mirror before you respond, oblivious to the nearby eyes also gathering your frame. “Oh, yes, I would be expected to deliver an heir not too long after I am married. Knowing my parents and the Zenin family, both I and the man I am to marry would ascend the throne mere weeks after the wedding. The very next thing that follows that would be…”

“Having his child,” Utahime finishes for you, her voice disappointed—for your sake. “I’m sorry to hear of this, truly. I wish there were something I could do to help.”

You chuckle before stepping off of that small stool you’d been posted upon, striding over to your nearby dresser, and popping open a box of jewelry. “Fret not, ‘Hime,” You console with a dismissive wave of your hand. “I will not marry any Zenin man. Not in this life, nor the next.”

She paces over to you and dips her hand into that recently opened box, “So, what will you do?”

“Good question.” Protrudes Yuki, who’s been leaning against the doorframe of your bedroom listening for quite some time now. “I am really just dying to know what that big plan of yours is.” She scoffs, earning your glance. She nods her chin to you slightly, “I saw the look in your eyes earlier so, tell me, princess… what’re you plannin’?”

The smile that spreads across your face was much too bright for you to fight, “Like everyone else, you two will find out tonight.”

Your knight’s eyes roll as she pushes off the frame and begins to approach you and Utahime. “Awh, don’t do that. The last ‘scheme’ you pulled off—”

“Got you your current position as my knight, if I’m not mistaken, Lady Tsukumo.” You adjourn as Utahime swipes up the corresponding jewelry to your dress and begins to assist in accessorizing you. 

Yuki only gets closer before posting herself against the wall nearest to the dresser you stand at. She gives you a firm stare, receiving a matching one from you, before instead focusing her gaze on the necklace currently being fastened around your neck. “Touché. But it was reckless.”

“Harmless,” You correct with a shrug. “I mean, really, God forbid a woman gets what she wants through slightly drastic measures.”

She looks around the room for a moment before tutting. “You put yourself in harm's way just to test my capabilities.”

“I put myself in harm’s way to prove your capabilities to those who doubted,” You correct for a second time, flawlessly. “Plus, that was years ago. I won’t go to any lengths like that this time around, the safety of my nation is on the line. Just know I have an idea I may act on.”

Yuki can’t help the worry etched onto her face as she only questions you further, “And this idea is safe?”

Smiling still, “No ideas are ‘safe’ for women in this day and age.” You remind her.

Silence befalls upon the room and even Utahime’s fingers pause on the clasp of your necklace that she’d been struggling with for the past few minutes. Her eyes soon glide over to Yuki and they exchange a look, their thoughts mutual within the quietude.

After that briefness passes, Yuki’s voice softens and she leans toward you ever so slightly, “So then, perhaps you shouldn’t act on it?”

Your face twists up as if you were offended, “And marry that coxcomb?” To which Utahime snorts. “Over our dead bodies.” You huff.

The air seems to have lightened up and Yuki grins, “‘Our’..?”

“You’ve said you would die for me, yes?”

She hums, “Without hesitation.”

“Then, yes, our.”

Utahime’s accessorizing comes to an end as she finally gets that clasp in order and takes a step back—pulling you to turn around to face her, and then taking in your prepared appearance. “Perfect.” She chirps.

“Gorgeous,” Yuki adds beneath her breath with a faint cock of her head.

You’re left smiling at the hushed compliments from the two before hearing a telling knock on your bedroom door, followed by the voice of someone informing you that guests are beginning to arrive for tonight's event. You hadn’t even realized how much time you’d spent venting to Utahime and getting ready for the dreaded ball and now, the sun was on its journey to set and it was time for said ball to actually take place.

Sometimes, you forget how fast time seems to move when you are in distress. You soon reply to the quick announcement you’d been given and you and your two accompanying ladies begin to make haste toward exiting your bedroom.

Faint worry remains on both Utahime and Yuki’s face as they follow your lead but they make no more vocal arguments about it. Yuki trusts your judgement, to some degree, and Utahime is moreso frightened for what the future holds for you regarding this arrangement.

· · ──────── ·𖥸· ──────── · ·

All doubts and worries entirely aside, by the time you indulge yourself in the festivities of the ball graciously hosted by your parents, your internalized fear for how things may go seems to fade. That timeless ballroom music you’d been surrounded by all your life floats through the air along with the sound of laughter and chatter from the lavish guests who’ve traveled from all over just to be here.

These glorified parties are a repetitive cycle you’ve been forced to grow accustomed to but, you’ve never minded them much until today. The entire time you socialized with the many aristocrats and members of high-class families, you couldn’t help but feel anxious. No one seemed to mention Naoya or his family to you, which led you to wonder if earlier that morning had merely been some lucid nightmare of yours…

Surely if this engagement were to take place tonight and had been planned out long before you were privy to it, someone would have mentioned it or even asked if you were excited for it by now. Unless all those around you were just as aware as you are of how dreadful a family the Zenins were..?

Or hell, maybe people were told not to say anything to you—

It’s then that someone bumps into your back, nearly causing you to choke on the bubbly beverage you’d been sipping on for the past few minutes. And just when you thought you’d scored a moment of peace for yourself…

An overwhelming sum of cologne slithers into your nose and although the smell is quite pleasant, clearly its wearer had sprayed far too much on themself—leading you to cough in an attempt to clear both your nose and your throat. Then, with an arm raised slightly over your face, you turn to whoever just bumped into you.

You don’t know what hits you first, the abrupt sight of him or that grating tone of his. “I swear you people have no sense of awareness. Has your sense of sight failed you, leaving you unable to see that I was clearly—oh,” Naoya grouses, his upper lip lifting faintly in a twinge of disgust. “It’s you.” He diverts, silently revoking his words prior out of what little respect he holds for you.

As unfortunate as it is, you have to drag your gaze upward to meet his. Just then, you mentally curse whoever's responsible for his mere existence because it should truly be a crime to be that painfully attractive, especially considering how all that typically flies out the window the moment he opens his mouth. You think your breath hitches at first sight of him.

Perhaps it was the proximity, considering he’d just bumped into you and made no efforts to back away after but, either way, he is undeniably… quite handsome. You have to blink thrice to register that this is the same rude man you’d last seen years ago, who you definitely do not remember being this… yeah, you won’t be throwing him any more compliments—albeit they’re all mental, as of now.

In the same way you seem to be taken aback by his appearance, he unconsciously weighs his head to the side as he drinks-, more like, gulps in your appearance. His eyes run up and down your face at least four times before he looks further down, in an attempt to glance at the necklace you have on, only to find himself leering at your chest and whatever cleavage you had visible. And, to say the least, if anything is mutual between the two of you, it’s definitely the attraction.

You decide to work up your usual confidence to speak, having reminded yourself who exactly you're looking at right now. “My eyes are up—“

“I know where your eyes are, woman.” Naoya cuts off with such a quickness that your head cocks back in immediate offense. But, before you can say anything else, he clears his throat and you watch him squeeze his eyes shut. “Pardon me,” He grits out, the words sounding as though it pained him to speak them. “I wasn’t expecting you to be so…” His eyes flutter open and he inhales strongly before cutting his intake off with a cough. “Close.” Is the last word he breathes out to you.

Your eyes remain on him and his every facial shift—the way he pulls his head back, takes another deep breath, bats his lashes elsewhere for a moment, brings his fist to his lips to cough again, and then shakes himself out of whatever that all was. You’re left unsure of what his body language translates to but you don’t believe you have it in you to care considering the way he starts talking again.

“Anyway,” Noaya straightens up where he stands and finally looks down at you (literally and mentally), “Let’s make this quick since I’ve finally found you, yeah?”

You raise a brow and move to cross your arms, “Does that imply that you were searching for me?”

His lips twitch, “No.”

“Some fiancé you’ll be…” You grumble out to him, to which he snorts.

“Just lend me your hand so I can propose, we’ve eyes on us.” He tells you rather quickly and quietly. You didn’t even realize how long your attention was on him before you blinked and looked around, finding the eyes of many lingering on you and him.

Oh. So people were aware of his upcoming proposal…

With a heavy sigh, you glance at him once more and he’s got this cunning look plastered all over his face. “I believe a man is to drop down on one knee to propose, no?” You ask almost dryly.

Naoya’s brows twist up, “You expect me to get on my knees for the likes of you?”

You shrug off his rudeness, “How else are you to propose?”

“You give me your hand and I slide this ring on your finger,” He tells you with a steadily lowering voice, dipping a hand into his pocket.

You honestly cannot believe the constant audacity that simply oozes off of this man. It’s as though he expects everything in his life to be served to him on a silver platter. “I will offer out my hand to no man who refuses to at least get down on one knee for me.” You tell him simply, your confidence not wavering in the slightest.

His left eye twitches in pure irritation. “I refuse to do anything ‘for you’.”

“Then I refuse to marry you.” You shrug.

He scoffs right in your face, “You haven’t the liberty.”

You huff back, “How can I be expected to marry a man who’s yet to propose?”

“You—“ Naoya grits his teeth and looks to the high ceilings for a moment before groaning slightly. He eventually returns his eyes to you and you can tell he’s over this entire thing. “Does compliance come this difficult for all women?”

“Does arrogance come this naturally from all men?” It’s from here that the two of you glare each other down while bickering back and forth as if it were second nature.

“Must you have a rebuttal for everything I say?”

“Depends on how long you take to propose to me like a proper gentleman.”

He pauses for a split second before sassily rolling his eyes, “You irritate me.”

“I’ve hardly done anything,” You reply with a lighthearted chuckle.

“Is shutting up something you’re incapable of?”

Dismissing him for the first time, you begin to look elsewhere. “Are you going to propose or not? I don’t have all night.”

Naoya swears he’s seconds away from tossing the ring in his hands into the nearest trashcan and declaring war because surely that would be much simpler than getting you to go along with things, “Don’t rush me.”

“You’re the one who said to make this quick,” You remind the man, noticing the distant gaze of both your parents and his.

The prince in front of you grits his teeth again, “I—“ 

“So hurry up.” Your hand waves in a dismissive manner as you turn your head back to him, “Get on your knees, Zenin.”

He’s clearly physically incapable of accepting any sort of orders from you without having anything to say so, “Address me by my first name.” Is what leaves his lips shortly after.

“I will not.” You deny.

He flashes a knowing smirk, “You must.”

“Or what?”

“Or I will discard this act of peace and declare w—“

“Fine,” You choke out, almost in fear. “Naoya… if you wish for me to be your wife in six months' time then you will drop to one knee and propose to me, properly.”

He finally begins to lower down to one knee, speaking in a harsh whisper, “The excess was unnecessary.”

“I care little of what you deem unnecessary.” You utter right back.

“I care little about you.”

“Good.”

Whipping the ring out quickly and assuming the perfect position below you, he glares, “Be my wife.”

You wish you had a way to capture how he looks right now. Naoya being on his knees is a sight no one can say they’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing before so, naturally, many of the onlookers begin to gasp and share gossiping whispers to one another. 

You keep your voice low but many watch your mouth move, “Is that how you propose? No wonder you’ve yet to find a woman before me…”

Naoya’s fingers pinch the ring held up to you tighter and you notice a vein pop out along his sharp jawline, “This arrangement was not by my personal choice. Now, do me… the honor, and…” He waits a moment before raising his voice so that those nearby can hear, “Marry me.”

You deadpan, “It sounds like you’re demanding me—“

“Jesus-, fuck, woman!” He curses unintentionally with a momentary drop of his head. Before you can let out the laugh his reaction invokes, he flips his gaze right back up to you and looks you dead in the eye as he speaks in a firm tone, “Will you marry me?”

For the first time since he’s ever known you, you smile at him—causing his body to feel… weird. He thinks he hates that stupidly gorgeous spread of lips and flash of teeth that starks across your face. Then, your hand is held out to him and you nod. “I suppose.”

He narrows his eyes at you and doesn’t move.

You roll your own. “Yes, I… accept your proposal.”

Not wasting any more time whatsoever, Naoya practically shoves the ring onto your finger, his touch oddly as smooth as silk against you. “Finally. Now—“

“Under one condition.” You add on with a very slight retraction of your hand.

“Condition??” His brows meet and his eyes frantically travel over to where both your parents stand, “I was not informed that this would come with any—“

“No one knew of any until now,” You say as you lean down a bit.

He groans, “What is it?”

It’s almost as though there was some sort of shift within your tone. As Naoya moves his eyes back to you, he finds your entire presence wildly different in comparison to a few seconds ago. And the darkened look you hold in your eyes, the way that smile of yours had yet to fade—just what could you possibly have planned in that feeble mind of yours??

“I would like to curate a harem for myself during our engagement,” You requested.

Naoya fights internally to hold back the shocked laugh he’d almost let out in your face, “Why am I not surprised the wench wishes for a harem of all things…”

You let out an offended breath, “Excuse me—“

“Sure,” He scoffs, sizing you up and down as he quickly raises to his feet. “You can make your lil’ harem. Run around and tarnish your reputation all you want but, that will not be enough for me to end this engagement.”

Back up to his feet, he finds himself looming toward you and surprised by how unmoving you are, “I don’t plan on it.”

Naoya only inches closer, “Must every last word be yours?” He asks, breath fanning over your skin with a faint scent of… mint?

You respond silently with a thin-lipped smile, mentally discarding how you keep picking up on such small details.

To which a vein in his forehead makes a sudden appearance, “Oh you little—“

“Let us all congratulate the happy couple!” A voice, Higuruma’s, chimes in, “A joyous union this’ll be for our nations!” He announces quickly.

People rush to swarm you and Naoya within seconds, celebratory wishes and congratulations thrown at you from left and right as if this was truly some big surprise. Perhaps it was the fact that Naoya was actually able to propose to you and you were able to accept it without… anything else taking place instead.

So, you suppose you have something to celebrate now. Your request for a harem was approved without any question whatsoever. Perfect. You may not have had the time to get anyone of royal status to propose to you before Naoya did, especially considering it would take an act of love for someone to do so in the first place but, you sure as hell just bought yourself some.

m!list | next chapter |

tags 1/2;

@angellliqua @celestial-lunar  @withcheese @itoshi-r @silvarys @everything-red @fishosezo @haesify @sassybananaweaselpsychic @orange-juice-is-ass

@notjustagirlinthisworld @sushiimara @larkson0 @di-in-al @sxnkuna @hanuh @cayla0000 @helloxkittylo @idkmanshrugg @chocolatecheer

@michelintopic @cinaminroll @french3xit @valleydoli @broimherebcsimboredok @sleepisforpuzzies @cuti3patooti8 @sukunadckrider @f0r7una @ventila98

@vixionix @levislug @mauve-gojo @chosomi @semi-lover @bee3l0v3r @noooo-onee @r4sh3li @yenayaps @chososbestgirl

@smutyturtle @simp-plague @pnkblueberry @stargirl-mayaa @kunareads @tojisdollx @gojoslefttoenail @forbiddenblog @glittercherry777 @samm1e13

[loojii]

♥️ Prim and Proper ♥️

I've been asked before about more info about these silly characters of mine and even though I hoped to draw most of it I thought it would be nice to write it down too. I am not English or the best writer so I did ask chat GPT to format it better for me!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Riddle x King of Hearts oc Simply how they met and to communicate Prim's personality a bit better! Like the King of Hearts, often forgotten but happy :) ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Story under the line ~

Riddle’s POV

The Night Raven College library was Riddle Rosehearts’ haven—a place where rules were respected, order was preserved, and silence reigned supreme. At least, it was supposed to.

The soft symphony of pages turning and quills scratching was disrupted by bursts of giggling and whispers. Riddle’s brows furrowed, his concentration shattered.

The offenders were four girls from Lady Mystic College, currently permitted to use the library while their own was under renovation. They sat at a table in the far corner, their uniforms pristine and polished, yet their behavior anything but.

Three of them leaned in close, whispering and snickering, their laughter bubbling up despite the clear disapproval of nearby students. The fourth girl, however, sat quietly at the edge of the group.

Riddle hadn’t noticed her at first, his irritation focused on the noise. But as he rose from his seat and made his way toward them, she caught his eye.

She was smaller than her friends, with blonde curls tied into two neat pigtails. Her dark blue eyes flitted nervously between her tablemates and the books in front of her. Braces gleamed faintly while her upperlip rested on them. Unlike her companions, she seemed more like an observer than a participant.

“Excuse me,” Riddle said sharply as he reached their table.

The three louder girls turned to him, blinking in mock surprise. “Oh, hi!” one of them said, her smile overly sweet.

“This is a library,” Riddle stated, his tone clipped. “Your noise is disrupting others. Please keep your voices down.”

The girls exchanged glances and giggled again. “Sorry about that,” another said, though her tone suggested she wasn’t sorry at all.

The fourth girl looked up at him, her cheeks flushing pink. “I—I’m so sorry,” she stammered. Her hands fidgeted with the edge of her book. “We will be quiet, promise!”

Riddle’s frown softened slightly. She seemed genuinely apologetic, unlike her companions. But rules were rules, and they all bore responsibility for their collective behavior.

“Just keep it down,” he said, turning on his heel and walking away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later, Riddle found himself standing in front of a particularly tall bookshelf, searching for a volume on advanced spell theory. The book he needed was on the highest shelf, just out of reach.

He huffed, rising onto his toes, but it was no use. He debated summoning a step stool when a familiar voice broke through his thoughts.

“Um... Excuse me,” the soft, slightly lisped voice said.

Riddle turned to see the blonde girl from earlier standing a few feet away. She was craning her neck, gazing up at a book several shelves above her head.

“I didn’t mean to bother you,” she said quickly, flushing again. “It’s just... I can’t reach it.”

Riddle glanced between her and the book. “Neither can I,” he admitted dryly, stepping closer.

Her lips twitched into a sheepish smile. “Oh, yeah-” she said, hugging her arms.

Riddle sighed, lifting his hand. With a precise flick of his fingers, the book floated down from the shelf, landing neatly in his grasp.

The girl’s eyes widened, a spark of wonder lighting them. “Wow! That’s so cool,” she said, her tone full of genuine awe.

“It’s basic magic,” Riddle replied, though he couldn’t help the slight warmth that rose at her reaction. He handed her the book.

“Thank you,” she said, her braces glinting as she smiled. “I’m Prim, by the way. I, um, wanted to apologize again that we were so noisy.”

Riddle studied her for a moment. There was a cheerfulness about her, a childlike wonder that seemed at odds with her companions. “Riddle.” introducing himself. “And it wasn’t entirely your fault.”

Prim hesitated, her expression flickering with something uncertain. “They’re not always like that,” she said, though her tone lacked conviction. “I think they just... like having fun.”

“Just make sure to not disturb others when you’re in a public library. We prefer this place to be quiet.” Riddle said, not to scold her but he feared it may have sounded like that.

“No, you’re absolutely right! It’s basic rules.” She looked down at the book Riddle just got for her. “Thank you again, Riddle!”

Riddle responded with a simple nod and she hugged the book to her chest and turned back toward her table. Riddle watched her go, noting the way her steps seemed lighter, more confident.

For the rest of the afternoon, the library was quiet. But Riddle found himself distracted, his thoughts lingering on the small girl with the blonde pigtails and wondering if she would ever realize she deserved better.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day, Riddle was once again settled in his usual spot in the library. The silence was pristine this time, and he relished the peaceful atmosphere. He had nearly immersed himself in his studies when he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye.

Prim.

The girl with blonde pigtails walked hesitantly into the library, clutching her books and bag. She scanned the room for a moment before her eyes landed on him. A bright smile lit her face, and she made her way over.

“Hi,” she greeted softly, her voice still carrying that slight lisp.

Riddle nodded in acknowledgment. “Good afternoon, Prim.”

To his surprise, she pulled out a chair and sat next to him, setting her books down. “I hope you don’t mind,” she said cheerfully. “It’s nice and quiet here.”

“As long as you keep it that way,” Riddle replied, his tone neutral.

Prim giggled and nodded. “Promise. I’ll be quiet.”

She opened her notebook and began working on what looked like several assignments. Riddle glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, noting the way her handwriting flowed neatly across the pages. Occasionally, she would hum softly to herself, though it wasn’t disruptive—it was oddly soothing.

After a few minutes, he broke the silence. “You’re alone today.”

Prim looked up from her work, her curls bouncing slightly as she tilted her head. “Oh, yeah. My friends are out getting lunch.”

Riddle raised an eyebrow. “They left you behind?”

Prim waved a hand dismissively, her smile unwavering. “It’s fine. I had too much homework to do anyway. Besides, they’ll bring me something back.”

Her tone was so casual, so certain, that Riddle didn’t press further. But he couldn’t help the small pang of doubt that settled in his chest.

“They do seem to leave you out quite often,” he remarked, his voice carefully measured.

Prim paused, her pencil hovering over her notebook. Then she laughed lightly. “They don’t mean to. They’re just... busy. But they’re good friends, really.”

Riddle frowned but didn’t say anything. Her unwavering cheerfulness was admirable, though he couldn’t shake the feeling that she was excusing more than she should.

They fell into a comfortable rhythm, the soft scratch of pens and the faint rustle of pages filling the air. After a while, Prim closed one notebook and opened another, switching seamlessly between assignments. Riddle noticed she wasn’t just working on a single piece of homework—she seemed to be copying her answers onto three other sheets.

He glanced at her stack of papers. Each page was identical, and she was writing the same answers in the same neat handwriting on all of them. His brow furrowed.

“Prim,” he said quietly, his curiosity getting the better of him. “Why are you doing the same homework four times?”

Prim froze for a moment, her pen poised mid-sentence. Then she looked at him, her expression sheepish but still cheerful. “Oh, um... My friends forgot to do theirs, so I’m helping out. They’re really busy, you know, with... things.”

Riddle’s frown deepened. “You’re doing their homework? All of it?”

Prim shrugged, her smile not faltering. “It’s no big deal. I’m good at this stuff, and they always help me when I need it.”

Riddle didn’t believe that for a second. He leaned back slightly, studying her. She seemed so genuinely kind, so eager to help, but he couldn’t ignore the fact that her so-called friends were clearly taking advantage of her.

Prim seemed to sense his concern because she added, “I don’t mind, really. It’s nice to feel useful.”

Riddle opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, Prim stood up, gathering her things into a neat pile. “I’m going to the restroom real quick,” she said with a smile. “Could you watch my stuff?”

He nodded, though his gaze lingered on her as she walked away.

Left alone, Riddle’s eyes drifted back to her work. The identical pages spread out in front of him confirmed what he already suspected—Prim was kind, but her kindness was being taken advantage of.

As he leaned back in his chair, waiting for her to return, Riddle couldn’t help but feel a growing sense of protectiveness toward her. She was cheerful and kind in her own way, but it was clear that she deserved better than what her so-called friends were giving her.

When Prim returned, still smiling as brightly as ever, Riddle resolved to keep an eye on her. Someone had to.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Several days went by and Riddle found himself walking through the courtyard, a book tucked under his arm. It was his usual route to the library, but the sound of laughter and chatter drew his attention.

Underneath one of the large oak trees sat the same group of girls from Lady Mystic College. Their voices carried easily on the breeze as they chatted with a group of Savanaclaw students who seemed far too pleased with themselves.

Riddle’s gaze immediately went to Prim. She was sitting on the edge of the group, her blonde curls bouncing slightly as she nodded enthusiastically in response to the conversation. Despite her obvious effort to engage, none of the boys so much as glanced her way. Their attention was fixed on her three companions, who were leaning forward and giggling at every joke.

Eventually, the three girls stood, brushing themselves off and flashing bright smiles at the Savanaclaw students. “We’ll see you later,” one of them said, linking arms with another.

Prim started to stand, too, but one of the girls waved her back down with a quick, “Oh, just stay here, Prim. Keep the spot for us, okay?”

Prim blinked, then nodded quickly. “Sure! No problem!”

The group walked away, leaving her alone under the tree. She didn’t seem bothered, though. She pulled out a small lunch box and began unpacking it, her expression as cheerful as ever.

Riddle hesitated, his steps slowing. It wasn’t his business, and he wasn’t the type to meddle. Yet something about the scene nagged at him.

Prim’s so-called friends hadn’t even offered to include her. They left her behind without a second thought. And though she waved them off as if it were perfectly natural, Riddle couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t right.

Before he could stop himself, he changed course and approached her.

Prim looked up as his shadow fell over her. “Oh! Hi, Riddle!” she said brightly, her dark blue eyes lighting up.

“Good afternoon,” he said, stopping a few feet away. He glanced at her lunch box and then at the empty space around her. “You’re alone.”

She smiled and nodded. “Yeah, the girls went off with those boys. They didn’t want to intrude, and, well, it would’ve been rude for me to tag along since I wasn’t invited.”

Riddle frowned, his grip tightening on the book in his hands. “They left you here.”

Prim waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, it’s fine. I already had lunch anyway, and they asked me to keep this spot for them. It’s a nice spot, don’t you think? Nice shade, good view...”

Her voice trailed off as she gestured to the courtyard around them, clearly trying to paint the situation in the best possible light.

Riddle remained silent, his expression unreadable. He wanted to tell her that her friends shouldn’t have asked her to stay behind just to save a spot. That if they truly cared about her, they wouldn’t leave her sitting alone while they went off with boys who didn’t even acknowledge her.

But Prim’s smile didn’t falter. She continued to eat her lunch, completely at ease.

Riddle’s mind whirred. He had never been particularly skilled at making friends himself, and he often struggled with understanding social dynamics. Yet he couldn’t stand to see someone as kind and cheerful as Prim being so blatantly overlooked.

“Prim,” he said abruptly, his tone firmer than he intended.

She looked up, blinking at him. “Yes?”

“Would you... like to join me for lunch?”

Prim’s eyes widened in surprise, and for a moment, she seemed at a loss for words. “Oh, um, really?” she asked, her voice slightly higher than usual.

“Yes,” Riddle said, a little awkwardly. “If you’ve already eaten, I could still use some company. That is, if you’re not busy keeping this spot occupied.”

Prim laughed softly, her smile brightening even further. “Well, I suppose the spot will still be here when I get back.”

Riddle stepped back, allowing her to stand. As they walked toward the cafeteria together, he couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of satisfaction. It wasn’t much, but at least she wouldn’t have to sit alone this time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Prim’s POV

The shade under the oak tree was nice, shielding them from the midday sun as the breeze rustled through the leaves. Prim sat with her three friends—Hazel, Trinity, and Opal—all of whom were laughing and chatting animatedly, their voices blending together in an upbeat melody of giggles.

Prim listened quietly, her hands folded neatly over her lap, her lips twitching upward in a small smile. Hazel said something that made Trinity snort, and Opal burst into another fit of laughter. Prim tried to join in, even though she didn’t entirely understand the joke.

They’re just so confident, she thought, watching them. “It’s one of the things I admire about them.”

Sometimes they’d say things to her that she wasn’t sure how to take. Like when Hazel turned to her mid-laughter and said, “Prim, I wish I could be as pure as you. So innocent!”

Prim chuckled along, though her cheeks flushed. They mean well, she reassured herself. It’s not like they’re being mean. I guess I don’t get all their jokes, so they’re right. It’s fine.

Then there was Trinity, who had tilted her head at Prim’s pigtails earlier and remarked, “Your hair is so unique, Prim. I’d never have the patience to deal with all those curls!”

Prim had thanked her for the comment, though part of her wondered if “unique” had been the right word. It was true, though—her hair never behaved like Hazel’s silky locks, Trinity’s sleek waves, or Opal’s perfectly tousled bob. But it was fine.

It was fine.

When a group of boys approached, Prim felt herself tense up slightly. She wasn’t used to being approached by boys—especially not bold, self-assured ones like these.

Hazel, Trinity, and Opal perked up immediately, their voices gaining a lilting edge as they welcomed the boys with coy smiles and casual jokes. Prim sat up straighter, her cheeks flushing pink as she tried to follow along with the conversation.

One of the boys told a story about his latest Spelldrive match, and Prim laughed softly at the right moment, hoping it sounded natural. But the boy didn’t look her way. None of them did. Their eyes were fixed on her friends.

She felt a small pang in her chest.

It’s okay, she told herself quickly. She isn’t his type. And that’s okay.

Her friends were tall, poised, and effortlessly pretty. Their hair shimmered in the sunlight, their makeup was flawless, and their laughter was infectious. Prim, meanwhile, was shorter, with unruly curls that seemed to have a mind of their own. Her braces made her mouth always stand open a bit, and as long as she can remember she talked with a lisp.

They’re just more... grown-up than me, she reasoned. And that’s okay. I’ll get there eventually.

For a fleeting moment, the pang threatened to grow into something heavier. But she shook it off, summoning her usual cheerful resolve.

I totally get it, she told herself, nodding slightly as if to reinforce the thought. I understand why they’d get all the attention. Besides, I don’t even need a boyfriend right now! I have my friends. And I’m happy for them. Really, I am.

When the boys eventually asked Hazel, Trinity, and Opal to join them for lunch, Prim was already smiling again.

“Oh, just stay here, Prim. Keep the spot for us, okay?” Hazel said over her shoulder as they stood.

“Sure! No problem!” Prim said brightly, waving at them as they walked off.

She settled back under the tree and reached for her lunch box. It’s fine, she thought as she unwrapped her sandwich. I packed a good lunch, and this spot is really nice. I’m totally fine. And they’ll be back soon anyway.

As she took a bite, she looked up and froze mid-chew.

Riddle stood a few feet away, his red hair unmistakable in the dappled sunlight. He was looking directly at her, his expression as composed and stern as always.

“Oh!” Prim swallowed quickly, straightening up and brushing crumbs off her lap. “Hi, Riddle!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Riddle’s POV

Riddle wasn’t entirely sure why he’d asked her to join him for lunch. It wasn’t as though he usually sought out company during meals. Quite the opposite, in fact—he valued the quiet solitude that came with sitting alone, free from the noise and chaos of others.

And yet, here he was, walking toward the cafeteria with Prim by his side, her cheerful chatter filling the silence he usually preferred.

“I really didn’t expect you to invite me to lunch,” Prim said, her voice bright with surprise. “But thank you! It’s nice to have someone to eat with. It’s always fun!”

Riddle glanced at her, taking in her wide smile and the way her dark blue eyes seemed to light up with genuine delight. Her optimism was almost childlike in its sincerity, and though it was different from the carefully composed demeanor he usually gravitated toward, he found it oddly... refreshing.

As they settled at a table, Prim eagerly unpacked her lunch box again, chatting as she went. “So, do you always eat alone? Or do you sit with your dorm mates sometimes?”

“I usually eat alone,” Riddle replied, his tone matter-of-fact. “It’s more efficient. The dining hall can be... chaotic.”

Prim tilted her head, nodding thoughtfully. “I get that. It can get loud sometimes. But it’s nice to have people to talk to, don’t you think?”

Riddle hesitated. Socializing had always felt more like a chore than a pleasure for him. Yet, as he watched Prim, he couldn’t bring himself to agree. “Perhaps,” he said finally.

They fell into a rhythm of small talk, much to Riddle’s surprise. Prim carried most of the conversation, her cheerful nature making it easy to follow along. She told him about her favorite classes, how she was still adjusting to Lady Mystic College, and how much she loved the library at Night Raven College.

“And the oak tree in the courtyard!” she added with a bright smile. “It’s such a nice spot to sit. Perfect shade, good view... It’s the best, really.”

Riddle nodded politely, though his thoughts lingered on why she’d been left there in the first place.

Finally, he couldn’t stop himself from bringing it up. “You said earlier that your friends went off with those guys and left you behind. Does that happen often?”

Prim blinked, caught off guard. “Oh, well... not often,” she said, though her tone wavered slightly. “They were just being polite, you know? It wouldn’t have been right for me to tag along if I wasn’t invited.”

Riddle frowned. “But if they’re your friends, shouldn’t they have invited you in the first place?”

Prim hesitated, her cheerful facade faltering for the briefest moment. “I mean, they’re just... busy. And I don’t really mind! I’m happy to keep the spot for them.”

He leaned forward slightly, his gaze steady. “Do you really think that’s fair to you?”

She shifted uncomfortably, her hands fidgeting with the edge of her lunch box. “Well, it’s not like they’re being mean or anything,” she said quietly. “They’re nice to me. And they’re so cool and pretty, you know? I’m lucky to have friends like them.”

Riddle’s frown deepened. “Are they really your friends if they constantly leave you out? If they treat you like an afterthought?”

Prim’s shoulders slumped slightly, and for the first time, her ever-present smile wavered. “They have to be my friends… if they’re not…” she said softly, “then... it would mean I didn’t have any at all…”

Riddle’s chest tightened at her words. He’d never been particularly adept at comforting others, but the sadness in her voice stirred something in him. He’d always been strict, proper, and precise in his interactions, yet in this moment, he felt compelled to say something more.

“You do have a friend,” he said quietly, surprising even himself.

Prim’s head snapped up, her eyes wide. “Mm?”

Riddle shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his face heating slightly. “I mean... I wouldn’t invite just anyone to lunch. So if that makes you feel better... consider me your friend.”

For a moment, Prim simply stared at him. Then her face broke into the brightest smile he’d ever seen, her braces gleaming as her eyes filled with joy. “Really? You mean it?”

He cleared his throat, looking away to hide his own embarrassment. “Yes. Of course.”

“Yeah!” Prim said eagerly, her sadness forgotten as she practically beamed at him. “Yeah, I guess we are friends, huh?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The park on Sage Island was quiet that afternoon, the soft rustle of leaves and distant chatter providing a soothing backdrop to Riddle’s thoughts. He didn’t come to the park often—it seemed frivolous to idle in nature when there were more productive things to do—but something had drawn him there today.

It was then that he saw her.

Prim was balancing on a low railing near the path, her arms stretched out for balance and her curls bouncing with each careful step. She looked utterly carefree, the sunlight catching the faint glint of her braces as she smiled to herself.

Riddle slowed his pace, his gaze lingering on her. The sight struck a chord in him—her innocence, her lightheartedness. She embodied a freedom he had never known.

Growing up under his mother’s strict rules, even the thought of such behavior would have been unthinkable. Walking on a railing? Playing games in public? There was no place for that in the rigid schedule of the Rosehearts household. And even now, as a college student, Riddle often felt the weight of responsibility pressing on his shoulders, keeping him bound to the rules he upheld so fiercely.

Prim, however, seemed untouched by such constraints.

When she spotted him, her face lit up, and she hopped down from the railing with a bounce. “Riddle!” she called, hurrying toward him. “Hi! What a surprise to see you here!”

“Good afternoon, Prim,” he said, straightening his posture.

“It’s so nice to see you,” she said, her grin bright as ever. “Are you here for a walk too?”

“I thought some fresh air might be beneficial,” Riddle replied. “And you?”

“Oh, I’m on my way to the bookstore,” she said, clasping her hands behind her back. “I need a new diary. My old one’s almost full.”

“A diary,” he echoed.

“Yep!” she said cheerfully. “I write about everything—what I did, how I felt, what made me happy. It’s nice to look back on later, you know?”

Riddle nodded, though he couldn’t fully relate. His own life had always been so structured, so focused on rules and expectations, that the idea of reflecting on daily joys felt almost... indulgent.

As they walked together, Prim continued to chat, her energy as boundless as ever. “I’ve been hanging out less with Hazel, Trinity, and Opal,” she said after a while, her tone casual. “It’s easier now that I have a friend.”

Her words caught him off guard, and he turned to look at her. “You mean me.”

“Of course!” she said brightly, glancing at him with a sincerity that made his chest tighten.

He felt his cheeks heat slightly and quickly looked away. “I... see.”

Prim tilted her head, her expression softening. “Thank you for having lunch with me last week, by the way. It was really nice. I hope I wasn’t talking too much.”

Riddle shook his head. “You were fine. I didn’t mind.”

Her face lit up again, and she clasped her hands together. “I’m glad! I’ve been eating alone more often lately, and I think I finally get what you mean—it’s nice to have that quiet sometimes. It’s efficient, and I can actually focus on my food!”

Hearing her repeat his words from before made something stir in his chest. She wasn’t just cheerful; she genuinely listened.

They walked in companionable silence for a few moments before Prim spoke again. “You should come with me to the bookstore,” she said suddenly, her voice bright.

Riddle blinked, caught off guard. “Me?”

“Why not? It could be fun! And I’m sure they’ve got plenty of interesting books for you to look at.”

He hesitated, searching for a reason to decline, but none came. “I suppose I could use a new reference book,” he said finally, convincing himself it was a practical decision. “Very well.”

Prim clapped her hands together. “Great! Let’s go!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The bookstore was small but inviting, its shelves packed with an eclectic mix of novels, journals, and academic texts. Prim headed straight for the section of journals, her excitement palpable.

“What do you think of this one?” she asked, holding up a diary with a floral cover. “Or this one?” She picked up another, this one decorated with stars.

“They’re both... adequate,” Riddle said diplomatically, though his tone lacked the sternness it usually carried.

Prim giggled. “You’re so formal, Riddle. You’re so cool.”

He stiffened, the unexpected comment catching him off guard. “I—cool is hardly the appropriate word.”

She laughed again, completely unbothered by his awkwardness. “I like it,” she said simply, flipping through the pages of a diary.

Riddle turned his attention to the nearest shelf, scanning the titles even as his thoughts lingered on her. She was so unabashedly sincere, so quick to express herself without reservation. It was entirely unlike him, and yet he found it oddly refreshing.

“What kind of books do you like?” Prim asked suddenly, breaking his train of thought.

“Primarily academic texts,” Riddle replied. “I don’t often read for leisure.”

“That makes sense,” she said with a nod. “You’re so disciplined, Riddle. I admire that about you.”

He glanced at her, momentarily speechless. She said it so matter-of-factly, as if her praise was simply the truth. “Thank you,” he said quietly, unsure of how else to respond.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The walk back from the bookstore was peaceful, with Prim happily clutching her new diary to her chest. She was chatting about the various things she planned to write in it—her favorite moments, her thoughts on the day, and even the little goals she set for herself. Riddle listened quietly, his hands neatly folded behind his back, offering the occasional nod or small response.

As they reached a crossroads in the park, Prim slowed her pace, her expression shifting slightly. “I should probably start studying when I get back,” she said with a small sigh. “I’ve got this one chapter that’s been giving me so much trouble.”

Riddle raised an eyebrow. “What subject?”

“Potions,” Prim replied, scrunching her nose. “There’s this one section about ingredient interactions that I just can’t wrap my head around. It’s like the words blur together every time I try to read it.”

He stopped walking, considering her words. He remembered studying potions theory himself the year prior. It wasn’t an easy subject, especially when it came to understanding the subtleties of ingredient dynamics. But he’d mastered it, of course.

Prim tilted her head, glancing at him curiously. “What is it?”

Riddle felt a flicker of hesitation. The idea of offering his help seemed straightforward enough, but his mind began to overanalyze. Would it be strange to suggest it? They were friends now, weren’t they? And helping a friend was a reasonable thing to do.

But what if she felt pressured to accept? Prim had always been eager to please, and the last thing he wanted was for her to feel obligated. Still, she had said she was glad they were friends. Surely she wouldn’t find the gesture unwelcome?

“Riddle?” Prim’s voice was soft, her gaze searching his.

He straightened, pushing his doubts aside with a deep breath. “If you’re struggling with that chapter,” he began carefully, “I could help you study.”

He watched her expression closely, his heart beating just a little faster as he waited for her response.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Prim’s POV

Prim clutched her study books tightly to her chest as she walked toward Night Raven College. The path to the all-boys school was winding, but she didn’t mind. The weather was nice, the air crisp, and her heart felt unusually light.

She couldn’t stop thinking about the day before, when Riddle had offered to help her with her potions studies. It had been so unexpected, and the moment he’d asked, she’d said yes without hesitation.

Of course, she was grateful for his help. Riddle was brilliant—he knew so much, and she was certain he’d explain things far better than her textbook ever could. But more than that, the thought of spending time with him made her genuinely happy.

She smiled to herself, her steps quickening as she remembered the feeling. She’d made an actual friend.

In high school, she’d been alone more often than not. She tried to fit in, but it was like she didn’t quite know how. Her curls were too unruly, her braces too shiny, and her lisp made her stumble over words when she was nervous. She remembered watching other girls gather in groups, laughing and chatting easily, while she lingered on the edges, hoping to be noticed.

When she’d started college, she promised herself things would be different. She’d make friends this time, no matter what. And she had—Hazel, Trinity, and Opal had been quick to include her. But it hadn’t taken long to realize that their kindness only went so far.

Prim sighed softly, her grip tightening on her books. Her so-called friends weren’t really nice to her, not in the way that mattered. She knew that. But wasn’t it better to have bad friends than none at all?

At least, that’s what she used to believe.

But then there was Riddle. He was so different from anyone she’d met before—kind in his own quiet, composed way. He didn’t laugh at her or make her feel small. When he talked to her, it felt like he actually saw her, not just the odd girl with the curls and the braces.

Riddle is a real friend, she thought, her heart fluttering.

She almost started skipping as she neared the gates of Night Raven College, her excitement outweighing her nerves. The idea of walking into an all-boys school was a little intimidating, but she didn’t let it bother her. Riddle had offered to help, and she was determined to make the most of it.

When the imposing gates of the school came into view, Prim spotted a familiar figure waiting for her.

Riddle stood with his hands clasped neatly in front of him, his posture as straight and proper as ever. He spotted her immediately and stepped forward.

“Good afternoon, Prim,” he said, his tone formal but not unfriendly.

“Hi, Riddle!” she greeted, her voice bright as she hurried up to him. “Thanks for meeting me.”

“It’s no trouble,” he replied, gesturing toward the campus. “I thought it would be best to guide you directly to my dorm. Night Raven College can be... confusing to navigate if you’re unfamiliar.”

She nodded eagerly, her nerves momentarily forgotten. “I really appreciate it. I’ll try not to get in the way too much!”

Riddle gave a small shake of his head. “You’re not in the way. I offered, didn’t I?”

Her smile widened at his words, and as they began walking, she glanced around, taking in the grand architecture of the school.

“It’s such a big campus,” she said, her awe evident. “It must be amazing to go here.”

“It has its merits,” Riddle said simply, though there was a faint note of pride in his voice.

Prim followed him through the gates and into the courtyard, her excitement bubbling up again. She had no idea what to expect, but one thing was certain—Riddle was her friend now. She can’t wait for tonight, when she can write in her diary about today.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Riddle’s POV

As Riddle led Prim through the gates of Heartslabyul, he noticed the usual shift in demeanor among his dormmates. Students standing idly by quickly straightened their postures, their conversations quieting as they noticed him. It was routine, of course—expected behavior from those under his jurisdiction—but it wasn’t something he’d ever given much thought to.

Prim, however, seemed to notice. She glanced around curiously as they passed a group of first-years who hurriedly bowed their heads in greeting.

“Good afternoon, Housewarden!” one of them called.

Prim blinked, slowing her steps slightly. “Housewarden?” she repeated, looking at Riddle.

He cleared his throat, feeling a faint warmth creep up his neck. “Yes,” he said stiffly. “I am the housewarden of Heartslabyul.”

Her eyes widened as the pieces seemed to fall into place. “Ohhh, that makes so much sense now!” she said, her voice light with realization. “No wonder everyone is so respectful around you. You’re in charge!”

Riddle frowned slightly, his usual composure slipping just a little. “It’s merely my duty,” he said, trying to downplay the significance.

Prim, however, seemed delighted. “That’s amazing, Riddle! You must be really good at what you do for them to listen to you like that.”

Her praise caught him off guard, and he quickly turned his attention back to the path, his face warming further. “It’s nothing remarkable. Let’s continue to my room.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When they reached his room, Riddle opened the door and stepped aside to let Prim in. She hesitated for a moment before walking in, clutching her books tightly.

“I’ve never been in a boy’s room before,” she said with a small giggle, glancing around.

Riddle stiffened, his hand tightening slightly on the doorknob. “It’s just a room,” he said quickly, closing the door behind them.

Prim wandered further inside, her eyes wide as she took in the neat, organized space. The room was larger than she had expected, with a tidy desk, bookshelves filled to the brim, and a large canopy bed. Everything was perfectly arranged, a reflection of Riddle’s meticulous nature.

“This is so nice!” she said, smiling as she turned to him. “It’s so... Riddle.”

He blinked. “What do you mean by that?”

“It’s so neat and organized,” she said, laughing lightly. “It just feels like you. I love it.”

Her laughter was high but not too loud often accompanied by a snort. It was infectious and Riddle found himself relaxing slightly.

Prim grinned, plopping herself onto the edge of the chair near his desk and opening her books. “Okay, ready to study?”

He nodded, pulling out a chair for himself and settling in beside her. “Let’s begin. You mentioned you were struggling with ingredient interactions?”

As they worked through the chapter, Riddle was surprised by how focused Prim was. Though she had trouble grasping some of the concepts at first, she listened intently to his explanations, asking thoughtful questions and jotting down notes.

Her enthusiasm was refreshing, and Riddle found himself genuinely enjoying the session.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A knock at the door interrupted them just as Prim was beginning to understand a particularly tricky concept.

“Come in,” Riddle called, glancing up.

The door opened to reveal Trey, carrying a tray of freshly baked cookies. He smiled when he saw them. “I thought you two might want a snack,” he said, placing the tray on the desk.

Prim’s eyes lit up. “Oh, wow! These look amazing!”

“They’re still warm,” Trey said with a chuckle. “Help yourselves.”

Prim picked up a cookie and took a bite, her eyes widening in delight. “These are so good!” she said, her voice muffled slightly by the cookie.

Riddle picked one up as well, though he was far more reserved in his reaction. “Thank you, Trey,” he said politely.

Trey turned to Prim, bowing his head slightly wearing a kind smile. “Nice to meet you, I’m Trey, the vice housewarden of Heartslabyul.”

Prim sat up straight and returned his smile with one of her own. “Nice to meet you too! I’m Prim!”

Trey smiled knowingly, glancing between the two of them. “Well… Let me know if you need anything else,” he said before heading out.

As the door closed, Prim turned to Riddle, her smile as bright as ever. “Your dormmates are so nice. And these cookies? Best study snack ever.”

Riddle nodded, feeling a faint sense of pride in Heartslabyul’s hospitality. “Trey is an excellent baker,” he said.

Prim grinned, holding up her notebook. “And you’re an excellent teacher. I’m actually starting to get this now!”

Riddle looked at her, his expression softening. “You’re a quick learner,” he said. “You just needed someone to explain it in a way that made sense to you.”

Her smile widened, and she leaned forward slightly. “Thanks, Riddle. Really. You’re the best.”

His face warmed again, and he quickly turned back to the open book in front of him. “Let’s continue,” he said, his voice a little tighter than usual.

Prim giggled, taking another bite of her cookie before diving back into her notes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Riddle shifted in his chair, trying to focus on the textbook in front of him, but his thoughts kept wandering. It wasn’t the material that distracted him—he’d long since mastered the subject—but rather Prim, who was sitting just a little too close.

She was leaning forward slightly, her notebook open as she jotted down notes, the end of her pencil tapping lightly against her lip in thought. Her blonde curls framed her face in soft spirals, bouncing faintly with every movement. Her braces gleamed when she smiled, the colorful elastics drawing his attention in a way he didn’t expect.

When she spoke, her slight lisp added an unexpected charm to her words, her voice full of enthusiasm even as she struggled with the material.

Riddle frowned slightly, feeling a warmth creep up his neck. He wasn’t used to this—having someone so close, so lively, so...

He surprised himself when the thought crossed his mind: She’s kind of cute.

The realization made his stomach twist, and he quickly looked back at his book, his posture stiffening. Focus, Riddle, he scolded himself silently. You’re here to help her study, nothing more.

Still, it was difficult to ignore her presence, especially when she turned to him with that bright smile, her gratitude shining in her eyes.

When their study session ended, Prim packed up her books, her smile never fading. “Thank you so much, Riddle,” she said for what felt like the tenth time. “You’re seriously the best. I actually feel like I understand this now!”

“It was no trouble,” he replied, his voice clipped as he tried to maintain his composure.

Riddle walked her back to the gates, insisting on showing her the way in case she would get lost. Walking back they made a bit of small talk and Riddle could feel the stares. But he tried to ignore them, he was just walking his friend out. 

Prim slung her bag over her shoulder, pausing when they arrived at the gates. “I’ll see you soon, okay? Thanks again!”

She waved cheerfully before walking back to her own dorm, leaving Riddle alone.

He let out a small breath, his shoulders relaxing. The session had gone well, but he couldn’t shake the strange fluttering sensation in his chest.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later, in the Heartslabyul lounge, Riddle sat with a book in hand, though his thoughts kept drifting back to Prim’s visit.

“Hey, Riddle!”

He looked up to see Trey and Cater approaching, both wearing knowing smiles.

“How did the study session go?” Trey asked casually, though there was a glint of curiosity in his eyes.

“Was she nice? Fun? Cute?” Cater added, leaning in with a teasing grin.

Riddle frowned, not catching the implication. “It went well. She understood the material by the end, and she was very polite.”

Cater’s grin widened. “Oh, ‘polite,’ huh? That’s it?”

“She seemed... eager to learn,” Riddle continued, ignoring Cater’s tone.

Trey chuckled softly. “And you were okay with her being in your space? You usually don’t let just anyone into your room.”

Riddle hesitated, adjusting his tie. “She’s a friend,” he said finally. “It’s natural to help a friend, isn’t it?” Calling her a friend almost made him feel proud.

Cater exchanged a look with Trey, his grin turning sly. “Right. A ‘friend.’”

Before Riddle could respond, the lounge door burst open, and Ace and Deuce strolled in.

“Hey, Housewarden!” Ace called, plopping down on one of the couches. “We heard you had a guest today.”

Deuce looked confused. “Guest?”

“Yeah,” Ace said, smirking. “A girl.”

Riddle’s grip on his book tightened. “What of it?”

“C’mon, spill! Is she your girlfriend or something?” Ace asked, leaning forward with an exaggerated grin.

Riddle’s face turned red, and he slammed his book shut. “O-of course not!” he snapped, his voice sharp.

Ace burst out laughing, clearly enjoying himself. “Whoa, calm down! I was just asking.”

“She’s a friend, nothing more,” Riddle said firmly, glaring at Ace.

Deuce, sensing the tension, elbowed Ace. “Knock it off, Ace. You’re being rude.”

“What? I’m just curious!” Ace said, still grinning.

Riddle stood abruptly, his expression stern. “If you’re finished with your childish remarks, I have work to do.”

He strode out of the lounge, his cape billowing behind him, leaving the others behind.

Trey shook his head, though he was smiling faintly. “You pushed too hard, Ace.”

“Aw, come on,” Ace said, leaning back with a laugh. “You can’t blame me for asking. Did you see how flustered he got?”

Cater grinned. “I don’t know, Ace. Maybe he’s just new to this whole ‘having friends’ thing.”

“Or maybe,” Trey said with a small chuckle, “he’s starting to realize that having a friend like Prim might be a little more important to him than he thought.”

None of them noticed the faint blush creeping up Riddle’s ears as he listened just outside the door, his grip tightening on his book.

[africanmorning]

Yes, you are correct. The main reason I was actually motivated to make this meme is because my knee-jerk response to people telling me they "could never do" something I'm doing is to show them how I do it and share all the resources I've used to get here, but people (my coworkers mostly) keep interpreting this as some kind of forced humility or self deprecation(?) and chastising me to "take the compliment and be proud." And it does unfortunately make sense that they would assume that I am merely being humble; self-pride is constantly described as a negative trait in our culture, especially for those who are femme-presenting. Slowly I think I am making them understand that my self-confidence and my joy in sharing my craft are not mutually exclusive. If anything, it gives me an ego boost when someone tells me they are working on a project and asks for my advice haha.

The "self-confidence in craft is a skill you build" phenomenon that you describe is a big reason it makes me so sad when people immediately shut me down when I try to share my skills with them. It's one thing to simply not be interested in something, but the learned helplessness in our modern culture is so pervasive it's depressing. We've gotten to the point where basic self-sufficiency skills are believed to be esoteric knowledge, and folks unconsciously self-sabotage their efforts to practice them before they've even started. Add to that a genuine belief that anything accomplished short of an aesthetic standard of "good" doesn't count, and we've got a whole mess on our hands. Hopefully we can convince more people that they are capable of more than what they learned in school.

[randombush3]

ojalá te amara

alexia putellas x reader

prologue, que te quiero, busco lo de antes, te hacemos falta

summary: you wake up but you're not sure where

words: 2664 (short and sharp i would say)

content warnings: just me feeling bad for what i'm presenting you with

notes: it's being set up for a resolution te lo juro

“You’re watching me.” 

Eyes, that’s what you catch a glimpse of. And it’s obviously Alexia, because who else would be here? 

You feel her look away, but that does nothing to veil the tension she carries around with her, the charge she puts between you whenever you are remotely close. The guitar in your hands feels like it is fizzing – or maybe that is your skin, your fingers familiar, familiar for once, and itching to play it. 

“You haven’t touched it in years,” she replies after careful consideration. “Reminds you of your father.” 

“He never played for me–” 

“You played for him,” she cuts in. You forget that you are not a stranger to her. She does this a lot, finishing sentences and stories and phrases as though she carries an encyclopedia around that details your life. Or as though she loves you, but that is more difficult to come to terms with. “Still, you didn’t want to remember anything about it.” 

“I should be more careful about what I wish for,” you joke. She winces, unashamed of it. 

A command rests on her lips, tickling the tip of her tongue. It’s an unloaded bullet. You shoot yourself. 

“Sit,” you say.

She sits, her movements deliberate, slow enough that you can’t help but track every inch of her as she does. The bedroom suddenly feels smaller, tighter, as if the four walls have leaned in to listen. 

“You’re going to play it.” It isn’t a question. She maps out your actions like they are inevitable, like she is omniscient, like she is your god. 

“Didn’t say that,” you counter, though your voice lacks conviction. Her presence always seems to do this – pulls what little certainty you have left out by the roots leaving you exposed and flustered. It has worsened in the past few days. 

You look down at the guitar, your fingers grazing the strings, and they hum under your touch. Here we are, they say to you. You’re not surprised that you hadn’t wanted to play it before now. You can only remember his favourite songs, the slow slump of his mask, slipping off his face until he resembled a happier man. A man he used to be. 

It’s painful to not remember his death. Being told about it is not the same. 

“Didn’t need to,” she says, leaning back on her palms, posture as composed as her words. But her eyes – God, her eyes – betray her. They dart from your hands to your face, they linger too long on your mouth, dark with something you can’t ignore. Something you haven’t been able to stop seeing ever since you caught it. 

You swallow hard. “You’re good at making people do things they don’t want to do.” 

“Am I making you do anything?” Her voice drops, almost a whisper, but there is a challenge threaded through it. She tilts her head, a lock of hair slipping loose from behind her ear. You watch it fall, noticing its dampness, noticing the faint sheen of her skin that tells you she has just gotten out of the shower. 

She must have come back from training early, yet she looks anything but tired. 

“Always,” you say, finally meeting her gaze. She doesn’t flinch, seemingly unfazed. If anything, her lips curve upwards, not quite a smile, not quite definable, but enough to leave your chest tight. 

“You’re too dramatic,” she murmurs. The charge between you snaps, crackling like static. You realise too late that she has closed the space between you until you can feel her knee brushing against yours. It’s light, accidental maybe, but it sets off a pulse through your entire body. 

“Alexia.” Her name leaves your mouth like a warning, but its direction is unclear. Is it to her, or to yourself? Is it a reminder that this isn’t something she has readily available to her anymore? Or do you simply want to tell her what she is getting herself into? 

Her knee remains against yours, a bridge that is not prepared to cross this river. She doesn’t move, doesn’t pull back, and you are not convinced she will. Not unless you tell her to, and even then, she doesn’t seem like she’d listen.

Alexia is putting a stop to something. Or starting something else. 

“You should stop,” you say, words hollow and frail. 

“Should I?’ Her voice is velvet, teasing at the edges. She shifts slightly, just enough for her knee to press more firmly into yours. It’s deliberate. She’s deliberate. Every move she makes is calculated, intentional, and that knowledge burns through, bright and undeniable.

“You think you’re clever,” you murmur, hand tightening around the neck of the guitar, fingers moulding into the fretboard. The strings groan quietly under the pressure, but you barely notice. 

And she says, “no.” She believes her answer. “But you are afraid.” 

That hits like a blow. You blink, grip faltering, but she doesn’t look away. Her gaze is steady, sharp, cutting through the distance that you have maintained. 

“I’m not afraid.” It’s defensive, said too quickly, and you both know it. The ghost of a smirk crosses her lips, but it vanishes as quickly as it came. 

“Then what is it?” she asks, leaning forwards. The proximity is unbearable, intoxicating. Her scent – clean like soap, but faintly metallic, the lingering smell of exertion – wraps around you, making it impossible to think. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Your resort to such a childish retort is an opening. An opportunity. 

“No,” she says, tone measured, blunt. “What I’d like to know is why you won’t fuck me like I am still yours.” 

This is a battle you will not lose, you decide, inhaling sharply. 

“‘Like���?” 

She is searing, and her fire is contagious. You force your eyes to meet. You’re not going to yield. 

“I’m still yours,” she breathes. 

… 

“So you fucked?” Mapi is out of breath, running alongside Alexia as she keeps a furious pace during their laps, motivated only by her yearn for gossip. Strong legs certainly help, but it is not those that spur Alexia on. 

“Nope,” she grits out, speeding up as they turn the final corner, well ahead of the pack behind them. “And I haven’t had an orgasm since September,” she continues, Mapi trailing after her like an old dog who still wants to play, throat dry and chest heaving. 

“How are you sprinting?!” she shouts between gasps as her legs drive her forwards somehow until almost collapsing to a stop. 

Alexia hands her a water bottle, and Mapi takes it with her to the ground. 

“I haven’t had an orgasm for months,” Alexia repeats with a shrug. 

Mapi stares up at Alexia like she’s trying to decipher a code. Her brain, still foggy from the run, tries to plough on, mouth opening and closing a few times, but it takes a few attempts to get the words out. “That explains a lot.” 

Alexia raises an eyebrow, amused despite herself. “Explains what?” 

“Why you’re insufferable lately!” Mapi exclaims, throwing her arms out dramatically. The rest of the team are beginning to fill up their watering hole, but Alexia doesn’t seem to care. Mapi will probably let this slip to Patri anyway, and that will hardly allow her to keep this private. 

“Oh, definitely. And not the fact that my fiancée was in a life-threatening accident and remembers neither me nor our daughter.” Your daughter? Alexia doesn’t feel like correcting herself. 

“No, because she’s alive – you should be relieved.” Mapi bites her lip, “instead you’ve been left to stew in your horniness.” 

“I don’t think she wants to have sex with me!” Alexia whines, outburst still somehow reserved but her grasp on herself slipping just enough for Mapi to truly want to help her out. 

Mapi props herself up on her elbows, sweat dripping down her temple as she processes the conversation. “So you’re telling me she look at you like she wants to eat you alive–” 

Alexia cuts her off with a sharp glare. “Keep it clean, Mapi.” 

“I am keeping it clean! I’m just saying, she looks at you like that, and you still haven’t done anything?” 

Alexia exhales harshly, squeezing her empty water bottle so tightly that it screeches out a burst of air. She remembers yesterday, how you’d seemed intrigued, how she’d pushed. She remembers how it had been working; she had you convinced, had you reassured. She remembers how she’d fucked it up, how she should hae waited for you to kiss her. “It’s not that simple,” she replies. An understatement, really. 

“Isn’t it though?” Mapi stands, brushing grass off her legs. “She’s clearly into you, Ale. You’ve seen it, felt it. So what’s stopping you?” 

“She has to want it,” Alexia says, her voice low but firm. 

“She does,” Mapi insists. “You just said–” 

“No, Mapi,” Alexia interrupts, her tone sharper now. “She has to know she wants it. Has to feel. It can’t just be some reaction she doesn’t understand. It can’t be because she feels drawn to me, or because her body reminds something her mind doesn’t. It has to be her choice. She has to choose me. Otherwise…” Her voice trails off; she is not going to speak these fears aloud.

“And so you’ve told her you could have sex with her, and she’s looked enticed, but you’re not going to do it unless she, what? Jumps you in the middle of your kitchen? What’s your eleven-year-old going to think of that?” Alexia swats her friend’s arm, Mapi instantly regretting her little joke after the reminder of how strong her captain is. “Ow! That’ll bruise, you know.” 

“Don’t mention Amaia,” Alexia warns, not because Mapi is being rude, but rather bringing up her name in a conversation about difficulties fucking her mother seems morally wrong. “We’re trying to become a family again.” 

“And I take it you haven’t informed your fiancée about–” Alexia shuts the conversation off with the decision to end the team’s break and shoo them into the gym where the trainers are expecting them. 

…

You’re bored. Massively so. 

A decade ago, you were up to your ears in essays and books to read, searching for jobs, exploiting your connections as much as you could. You were in a productive state. You were fighting to win, prepared to do whatever it took. 

Now, you’ve been told to relax. You get sick pay. Your associates send you cards, your clients send you hampers. 

You are fucking sick of opening hampers and pretending to care about various artisanal jams. 

It’s nice for them to do that, although you assume it is more to uphold appearances then give you their deepest sympathies, but it is just another mundane task that everyone has conspired to give you in order to keep you distracted from the harsh reality of your situation. You can tell from your home office that you enjoyed your job. There are two desks, one is presumably Alexia’s, but yours, unlike her neutral backdrop for online interviews and video calls, is made for reading, for curling up in your leather desk chair and paging through bundles until every single detail of your case is known. It’s littered with reminders, scrawled on yellow post-its, about possible points and contacts and dates. When you look at it, you are jealous of the life you have built yourself. 

You don’t need to work, as Alexia has told you, trying to be comforting. She makes more than enough and you have your inheritance and savings to ensure financial independence if worst comes to worst. You don’t need to do much of anything, it seems, with staff to help and Eli to care for Amaia (who had been employed as her nanny before you and Alexia had even met). But it’s agitating. Humiliating. 

You don’t want to be a trophy… whatever label your relationship with Alexia deserves. 

“You’re not a trophy wife,” Alexia agrees, her fork prodding at the risotto you’ve made (not from memory), bemused by the conversation topic but not entirely surprised. Amaia is sleeping at a friend's house, playing a match tomorrow that requires her team to be en route earlier than necessary. The girl’s mother, Lucía, seemed conspiratorial when she insisted you allow yourself to rest and that the game will not be anything exceptional, what with them playing a weaker team from a rural town outside the city. With no child to worry or censor for, tonight feels like a very domestic date. 

“I’m not even your wife,” you can’t help but say, gently, humorously, but truthfully. 

Alexia frowns, but it is subtle and not meant to be seen. “Do you want to know about how we got engaged?” she asks, steering the conversation in a far more constructive direction. You can hear your therapist’s approval ringing in your ears. 

You think about it for a moment. The engagement ring was ruined in the accident and you haven’t been presented with its replacement. You’re not even sure what you’d want, though the delicate band on your finger (as seen in pictures) was a choice aligned with your taste. 

“Who did it?” Being eager seems sickening. You’re trying to play it cool, especially after quite possibly being defeated by the incident. 

“You,” she says without missing a beat, clearly still immersed in the moment, still engrossed in the timeline of it. You’re shocked, but maybe that is because in your brain, the last person you remember sleeping with was a man. The idea of women and how to date them has mentally not crossed your mind yet, though you have a family with one. “Rather abruptly, I must say. I really wasn’t expecting it.” You raise your eyebrows, scraping the last of your risotto from your plate. “See, I had planned to propose to you – I had a ring and everything. We’d had a Champions League away game, so it was longer and farther than usual. And you’d be in London for meetings the week before I’d left. We’d barely seen each other.” 

“We weren’t in paradise the entire time?” Your sarcasm is ignored. 

“The distance was making things a bit tense between us,” she continues, “and so I made sure to get a nice restaurant booked, one whose menu wouldn’t be too mature for Amaia.” You’re impressed she planned for Amaia to be there, but you try not to let that show on your face. Instead, you choose a mask of neutrality. “Anyway, we’d just arrived at the airport and I was expecting to get a taxi back home since it was late and, God, that law firm worked you like a dog. But you were there, in Arrivals. You and Amaia. And I just remember being so grateful, so thankful for my family, so relieved to see you guys.” 

You want to comment, but you don’t. Her eyes are shining and you, off all medication now that most of your physical injuries have healed, top up the two glasses of white set in front of you both on the table. 

“You asked me in the car, Amaia asleep in the backseat. I hit my head on the window, I was so shocked. And you’d said it so casually, a simple: let’s get married. Only you would be able to do that!” You laugh. She laughs too. “It was an easy thing to agree to. I still proposed formally at that restaurant, but you insisted you got all the credit.”

She watches as you take a sip of your wine, noticing the lipstick you’re wearing and how it smudges onto the glass. She notices most things about you. She can’t help herself. 

“Alexia,” you sigh, the cool wine doing nothing to ease the tightness of your throat, “I don’t know where to go from here. I don’t know how to make this work.” You take a deep breath. “I’m not sure if I can keep pretending that this is what I want.” 

[mo7mmedzatr]

Supporters of the occupation reported my account, and it was banned🚨

My account on Tumblr was banned after being reported by supporters of the Israeli occupation, simply because I am from Gaza and asking for help. I was sharing my personal struggles, like being separated from my wife and daughter, and the difficulty of providing for my family during the war. I also talked about my brother Mohamed, who lost his job due to the bombing of his home by the occupation. But because of my stance against the occupation, my account was reported and banned. Despite this, I won’t stop asking for support, as our suffering in Gaza continues, and we are in desperate need of help.

Before the war, I had just gotten married and had a dream of a peaceful life with my wife. But the situation in Gaza forced me to send her abroad, as she was pregnant. The war started, and I was separated from her, with my daughter now 9 months old, and I couldn’t see her. At the same time, my brother Mohamed was hit by airstrikes on the first day of the war, destroying his home and leaving him unable to support his family. While I helped him, I began sharing my story on Tumblr, but my account was banned due to reports from supporters of the occupation. Today, I ask for help not just for myself, but for my family and my brother. We are in desperate need of support to survive in these harsh conditions

Life has become very harsh, and the extreme price hikes have made it impossible for us to afford food.

[slightly-knot-insane]

Idea for fic: where the reader is on the bed teasing the monster that they tied to the wall with a rope or chain and is some how holding the chain (kinda like a pulley system) and accidentally lets go of the chain and the monster pounces on them ;)

a/n: Hehehe, I love this! :3 Thank you for the ask!

Hung-Over

[ m!monster x fem!reader ]

content: grinding

You wait for him to wake up, your arms crossed, a pout on your mouth. You tug the rope around his legs, trying to wake him up faster - you were becoming irritatingly impatient.

With a long yawn followed by a grunt, he opens one eye. "Oh shit... Everything hurts." He notices you and immediately wakes up, his eyes dilating in panic. "I'm... in trouble?"

"You got drunk again!" you snap. "You got drunk again, forgot your phone at a pub, and barged in through the door like a rhino!"

"I broke our door again?"

"No, luckily you were able to use the lock, but you slammed the door so hard, I think the wall next to it cracked."

"I'm so sorry, love, I—" He frowns and wriggles his arms and legs. Or better said - tries to. "Why are my wrists and ankles tied?"

"I told you I'll punish you if you scare me like that again. Now you're hungover, tied and will watch Pawn Stars all morning."

"NO!" He roars, anguish written all over his face. "You know how much I hate those cheapskates! Ow... my head..."

You turn on the TV sit in the armchair next to your bed and grab a huge bowl of popcorn you already prepared. You enjoy the grunts and annoyed comments your boyfriend throws at the TV.

After one episode finishes, you look at your prisoner and see him straining to grab the end of one of the ropes, probably intending to either pull it or just chew it off. "Hey!" You jump on the bed and smack his hand away. You stand above him, legs spread and arms akimbo. "You could just apologize and admit you fucked up."

He eyes you from your ankles to your lips. "Didn't I?"

"You can be a real prick sometimes, you know that?"

He sighs. "I know and I am sorry. But I always forget my stuff when I'm drunk." You take the rope and pull it, quartering your boyfriend a little bit more. "Ouch!"

"Ask some of your friends to watch it for you before you get completely pissed. Seriously. I was so worried."

He looks at you, puppy eyes mode on. "Really? You love me that much?"

You click your tongue and pull the rope again, the elaborate pulley system you prepared while your boyfriend was passed out on your bed doing what it's supposed to. He grunts and... laughs? You look down and roll your eyes. A big lump is formed under his boxers. "You really are a freak."

"You know it, babe," he smirks and his tail (that sneakily coiled around your ankle while you weren't paying attention) lifts your leg up. With a yelp you fall on the bed and let go of the rope. A perfect opportunity for him. He simply sits up and, with a yank, pulls one of the ropes out of the pulleys. While you wrestle with his strong tail pinning you into the mattress, he frees his legs and lays on top of you. His wrists remain tied together but that doesn't bother him - he pulls your arms above your head and places himself between your legs. "Aaah, finally. Where I'm supposed to be."

His bulge presses against your groin and you can't escape getting hot under his warm weight. "You asshole..."

He keeps moving his hips up and down, grinding his hardness against your soft folds. He kisses you, moaning even before you do. You push yourself up, to feel him more. He spreads your legs further with every futile push. You feel his cock prodding against your entrance but your clothes are holding it captured. The desperate rolls of your boyfriends pelvis indicate he just might be close... And you are as well. You pant, lick your dry lips wanting to taste his delicious cock and ride it to your orgasm. But all you can do is angrily rub against him, sliding up and down his bent shaft. It becomes almost unbearable and painful, but pleasure building up soothes every burning nerve. You climax grinding against his stomach. He laughs, triumphantly letting you go and getting his cock out. Through his tied hands he blows his load onto you, staining your PJs and hair. But all you can do is laugh with him.

He kisses your sweaty forehead. "I'm sorry for making you worried. I promise I won't let this happen again. If..."

You raise your eyebrow. "If?"

"If we don't dismantle this wonderful pulley system you came up with. I'm sure it will come in very useful in the future."

[sprites4ever]

I thought you lived in the US? Are you saying now that it is, indeed, turning fascist?

Also, I can DM you a photo of my Asperger's diagnosis if you want proof. And yes, I can totally bring that up, because it is an extremely important factor. Both on- and offline, this is far from the first time that I've experienced this EXACT dynamic.

And I never said that people are coming after me FOR being autistic. In fact, that's the issue: They DON'T know that I am autistic. They DON'T know that my perception, both sensory and emotional, is more intense and detailed than with neurotypical people, and that I am extremely literal and socially illiterate as a result. Their reactions are natural reactions to what they perceive as a personal attack, even though it wasn't meant as one: They retaliate with personal attacks, which I then deem undeserved and retaliate against, because I didn't think I was making a personal attack at first.

Imagine it like this: A red army and a blue army in a barely holding ceasefire. A red soldier tries driving a car to the blue camp, in order to deliver a letter that expresses readiness for a more permanent ceasefire. On the way there, his car engine backfires multiple times. He obviously doesn't think he's attacking anybody, but the blue soldiers in their camp hear the bangs and think that someone in the car that's headed for them is shooting at them. So, they return fire. The red soldier thinks they are being aggressive, so he then actually starts shooting his rifle and calls for backup. All hell breaks loose.

The problem with being autistic is that, unlike with other minorities, one can look like a majority member. And then, one is literally unknowingly oppressed by those around oneself, quite simply because they don't understand one's intentions.

Here's an Example as to why Donald Trump is fascist

Donald Trump wants Concealed Carry Reciprocity.

What is that?

In the United States, it is not automatically legal to carry a firearm in a concealed manner just because one has a firearms license. One needs to obtain a special additional permission to do so. Like most things in the United States, Concealed Carry is decided on a state-by-state basis, meaning a person's permission for Concealed Carry only applies in the state it in which it was issued.

Concealed Carry Reciprocity is the legal concept that a permission for Concealed Carry, issued in any state, applies in all states. So, if a gun owner was permitted to Concealed Carry in Oklahoma, he can currently only do so in Oklahoma. Doing it in any other state is a crime. Under Concealed Carry Reciprocity, it would not be.

What does Donald Trump intend with this?

Donald Trump knows that his most loyal followers live in deep red states, which also have the highest concentrations of gun owners. Due to the high concentrations and due to Republicans being generally against gun control, it is likelier that more gun owners in red states have Concealed Carry permission. Donald Trump wants to allow people to Concealed Carry in any state if they've received permission in one, because he knows that most people who will take advantage of this will be his most loyal followers.

Donald Trump plans to lay the groundwork for his version of Mussolini's Blackshirts and Hitler's Brownshirts, his own paramilitary force of loyal followers who are ready to attack and murder fellow citizens in open daylight for their political positions that oppose their idol. Concealed Carry Reciprocity makes it easier for them to do this.

This is fascism.

[snoopyhq]

˚ ♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ i want your drama, the touch of your hand

type: viktor x reader

summary: making up with viktor after a particulatly nasty fight

warning(s): suggestive/borderline nsfw content after the red line divider !!!

word count: 1320

a/n: literally had this thought occur to me while i was boxing at my job yesterday and bad romance came on shuffle on my phone, MAN... the original version but also think the moulin rouge "backstage romance" version MWAH

Hour two, still no talking. The atmosphere within the apartment was heavy with unspoken resentment and hurt. Both of you had woken up in particularly bad moods, and it seemed that being in each others' presence simply amplified that.

Every little thing he did 'wrong' was ticking you off, and everything you said that was slightly unpredicted or off in tone would set him off, and it finally boiled over during dinner.

"I don't like lemon zest. I thought you knew that," he commented. He twirled a strand of the linguini through the fork, pushing the food around on the plate. In that moment, he looked like a petulant, petty brat, and it took all your strength not to reach across the table and slap it out of his hand.

"Maybe speak up next time. Or better yet, you could cook for a change then, since you seem to always have a smart remark about it!"

Viktor set down his fork. The lines between his brows furrowed.

"Don't speak to me that way please," he said, meeting your gaze. "I understand you may be frustrated, but I was just stating my preference. Something I thought you would know, since we do live and spend much of our time together, do we not?"

Anything else he may have said after the first statement didn't matter. You were already in an angry mood, and very much did not appreciate being told how to act.

"Don't police my fucking tone, Viktor. I'll speak however I want to dammit!"

He said nothing, picked up his fork again, and ate the rest of his meal in silence. The wall was slowly rising between the two of you once more. Viktor didn't wait for you to finish your food. He took his dishes, stood up, and walked off, the sound of his cane tapping against the tiles echoing too loudly in the space. You did your own dishes that night, and he did his.

Now there was a warmth lacking, even as the mattress dipped and sighed with every toss and turn. You were doing your best to keep your back to the other. It hurt, but your prides were nearly as sharp as your minds.

One of you had to break. You didn't want it to be you.

The loud banging noise from your upstairs neighbor finally did something.

"Goddammit, that idiot dropped something again," you complained.

"Someone please ban him from buying anymore hideous garden statues. That balcony is straight out of a post-apocalyptic nightmare," Viktor agreed.

You snorted, and quickly tried to cover it by clearing your throat.

"Am I only useful when I'm entertaining you?" he asked softly.

"Shut up. You know that's not true," you finally turned to face him.

"Then..."

"Viktor, I swear."

"That denial implies you care for me. Please, show and not just tell me," he requested sweetly.

"Oh yeah? Show you how, exactly?"

"I'm cold. I miss your warmth. You are cruel when you take away my routinely expectations."

"Fine. Come here," you finally reached out, and clasped his hand in yours.

This wasn't going to completely fix all the underlying emotional distress you were both dealing with, and it certainly wasn't going to fully rid what had transpired. But it was a start, made all the more worth it when he closed the gap, arms already wrapping around you tightly.

"I hate it when we fight," he whispered.

"Me too. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have taken out my frustrations on you."

"I'm sorry too. I should not have nitpicked so much, and I should have realized policing your tone wasn't going to make things go well."

NSFW AHEAD !!! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED !!! MINORS DNI PLS !!!

Viktor gasped, the sound breathy as it fell from his beautiful lips, now slightly swollen from how much you'd kissed and nipped at them. Your hands were in his hair, and you delighted in his reactions with every sharp tug. His amber eyes were dark. They gazed up into yours, practically begging for more more more.

You were happy to indulge.

"Tilt your head back a bit more for me," you rasped in his ear, pushing him back against the pillows. He complied easily.

"Please...," he groaned.

You pressed another kiss to his pulse point. It was one of his more sensitive area, and wasn’t helped when you followed it up with more kisses on his beauty marks.

He sighed.

“You always kiss me like you’re discovering oxygen for the first time again.”

"Because you always take my breath away." You murmured in response. You knew he was going to tell you off for such a stupidly predictable statement, and he did. You shrugged and kept kissing him again and again, silencing any more protests he had with your choice of words.

He nipped at your lower lip, enjoying the small little hiss you let out. He loved that. It never grew old.

His lips left yours, reluctantly, but moved on to your flushed cheeks and down your jaw. Viktor’s hands began gently trailing down your body, tracing and touching and feeling, committing you to memory. Everything about you was perfect, and he was in awe of it all.

As if to translate his thoughts through touch, he squeezed your thighs. He especially had a thing for them, always had. It was like they were made for him to hold.

“You’re so touchy already, Viktor? Insatiable,” you teased.

"But you love it when I can’t keep my hands to myself. You can't lie to me about that,” he cooed in a soft, lilting tone. His fingers traced along your thighs again, digging into the soft flesh.

“Yeah, yeah. enjoy that smug look while you still can,” you grumbled, not denying his words.

You suddenly lunged at him, kissing a trail down his body, giggling to yourself at his surprised yelp.

"Hey!" he laughed breathlessly, his stomach doing somersaults as you kissed along his body. His eyes fluttered closed as he felt your lips press to his skin. He loved when you did this, especially when you would leave soft little marks on his hips.

And speaking of that. You were currently working away at his hips now, trying to hold back the urge to just sink your teeth into him.

He couldn't stop the soft sighs and moans that escaped him. Gods, the touch of your lips on his delicate skin was sending shivers throughout his body.

"You don't have to be ah… gentle all the time." he murmured breathlessly, his fingers now the ones tangled in your hair.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes. Just bite me already, coward," he demanded.

He liked when you were a bit more rough with him. In fact, he preferred it. You not treating him like he was fragile. It made him feel better than being treated like a priceless doll, hidden away behind locked glass.

“Fuck, finally.” With his permission explicitly given, you finally sink your teeth down into him.

He let out a sharp moan, his hips rolling up a bit automatically.

"Keep going, please." he whispered. “Keep proving to me you’ll keep me warm for the rest of our days.”

You looked up at him, so wonderfully vulnerable and so violently true. His emotions were etched onto every angle of his face. Viktor was never once to mince words when it came to acts of passion, and you were fully reminded of exactly why you adored him so.

“I will. You’re forgiven,” you smiled. “Consider this worship my apology to you, and your acceptance, yours to me.”

You slowly pushed his legs apart, practically aching with the reverence and love and affection you felt for him. You could feel his breath hitch as yours ghosted over his inner thighs.

If this was how you two were to make up after a fight, maybe you should engage in conflict more often, you mused to yourself. It was going to be a slow, feverish night.

[hgfictionwriter]

First Impressions: Part two

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: Okay, so maybe Jessie isn't as shallow or one-dimensional as you thought. You decided to give her a chance, but first impressions and long-standing reputations can be hard to simply forget about. Can you let your insecurities go and can she prove that she's serious about you?

Warnings: Smut. Edging. Cunnilingus. Fingering. Language.

A/N: Part two! The rehabilitation of Player Jessie lol. It's a bit long, but there is smut, I swear.

“Hey Beautiful. How’s your day going?”

You glanced up from your phone and bit back a smile. You idly glanced around the library, clearing your throat before resettling on your phone and typing out a reply.

“Texting me when you’re on the road? You must be bored.”

“Day’s going well. Just at the library right now.”

“What? Without me?! I feel betrayed jk”

“I’m not bored. Just missing my study buddy turned…girlfriend?”

Your posture straightened and your eyes narrowed as you read her message.

“Is that your way of asking me to be your girlfriend?”

"Yeah?"

"Lol why the question mark! You're either asking me out or you're not."

"I am."

"Wow."

"What?! What was wrong with that? Lol. I thought it was smooth."

"Your inexperience is showing, Fleming."

“Well that’s a first.”

You rolled your eyes. When you glanced back down you saw she was typing.

“You said you didn’t want casual. And we've had some great dates. And I don't want to seem too over-confident, but I think I've coaxed you along from tolerating me to perhaps even enjoying my company. Periodically lol. So, I’m just following through.”

You bit your lip and your cheeks ached from holding back a full blown smile. Your head buzzed as you reread her message.

If there was a theme in your dynamic, it was that you had to give a hard time. Even in this situation.

"Enjoying your company? Let's not get carried away, now. I mean, just because we text all day, have hot make-out sessions, say sweet, romantic things to each other and it took us an hour and a half to say 'goodnight' yesterday, doesn't mean anything. So presumptuous of you."

"Ugh. You're right. I've misread the signs. My bad."

"But seriously - you haven't answered. And I'm actually getting nervous. Come on, Y/L/N. You'll either be my girlfriend or you won't 😛"

You smirked. You appreciated how easily you two bantered and this was no exception.

A few weeks had passed since that night in the hallway. Things escalated quickly, honestly. Suddenly there was this emotional intimacy that was rapidly evolving between you two and it just felt so natural. And Jessie, despite everything you would've originally expected, had been sweet, authentic, and steady.

The opportunity to step away and stop yourself from catching feelings was long over. Dangerous territory? You were in the thick of it. If you were going to turn back, now was the time.

"Yes. I'll be your girlfriend."

"That just 1000% made my day. My week. Month. More!"

You rubbed your face in elated disbelief and typed out a reply.

"Well. If you keep it up, my feelings for you might progress from tolerating, to enjoying to...who knows."

"Shit. I honest to God want to turn around and come back. And I never want to miss camps."

"I seriously miss you."

Giddy. You felt fucking giddy and you couldn't believe it.

"I miss you too. Which is fucking crazy since I saw you less than 24 hours ago."

"Tell me about it lol."

"I'll be here when you get back."

“Better be lol. And until then. Don’t let some other nerdy athlete charm you.”

You audibly laughed, cutting it short as it sounded through the quiet space.

“Yeah. And you keep your little fan club at bay while you’re away, okay?”

“Easy. I’ll text you after we're done for the day, okay? Happy studying!”

You couldn’t believe what was going on. It was so unexpected that you still had to remind yourself of the events that took place to get here. It was the only way to reconcile the fact that you were sitting here texting with Jessie Fleming. Flirting with Jessie Fleming. Dating Jessie Fleming. Someone who was Bad News; the type to break your heart and leave you longing.

Yet, someone who you - maybe - had all wrong.

Someone you, in fact, very much, were swooning over.

-------

You were reading the slide on screen and listening to the professor when suddenly Jessie nudged you with her elbow.

She had her eyes trained forward but shifted her laptop, angling it towards you. A smirk began to tug at the corner of her mouth and she gave you a brief, cursory glance. You looked down at her screen to see she'd selected some text in her notes.

"You look amazing. Stop distracting me."

You nearly blew a raspberry, managing to suppress it into a vague scoff. You rolled your eyes as you faced forward once more, but felt a blush burning on your cheeks. You glanced back at her to see her smiling widely at you now. She returned her attention to her laptop and typed out a new sentence.

"You know you're beautiful. You don't need to be shy about it."

You shook your head affectionately and typed out a reply before turning your screen slightly towards her. Your posture stiffened as she placed a hand on the edge of your seat to lean in to read.

"You're out of control. And who's distracting who here, huh? lol"

She retracted her hand to start typing and you missed it immediately. When she was done typing you leaned over, placing a hand directly on her thigh as you read the message.

"You are distracting me. You = distracting and gorgeous."

You silently snickered with another shake of your head.

"Omfg. You're ridiculous."

She glanced down at your hand purposefully.

"Especially now."

You gave her a look somewhere between chiding and teasing. She shot you another smirk and typed further.

"Don't get me wrong. I like it."

"Care to go on a little adventure with me after class?"

You weren't going to say 'no'. She knew it. You knew it. And sure enough, after class she led you by the hand to another building across campus until you were in an abandoned stairwell. You assumed you were going to continue on elsewhere, but learned otherwise when she gently pushed you against the wall with a charming smile and a slow kiss.

You giggled into the kiss as you wrapped your arms around the back of her shoulders.

"You take me to the nicest places," you teased.

"Both our roommates are in, so privacy is a tough commodity to come by," she replied with a chuckle as she began to kiss her way down your neck. It took every effort not to gasp. "You look gorgeous all the time, but I especially love when you wear your hair up. I couldn't stop staring at your neck - all I could think about was kissing it."

Goosebumps erupted across your skin as her warm breath caressed you, her lips explored and you could feel just the slightest, teasing touch of her tongue on your neck.

While the emotional barriers you'd tried to put up had proven entirely fruitless and ineffective, you'd done a much better job of withholding physical boundaries.

Given your concerns going into this relationship, you'd told yourself that you wanted to very strongly establish an emotional foundation with Jessie before being physically intimate. So even though you would've probably already slept with someone by this point, and Jessie most certainly would've too, you'd never allowed the two of you to go further than a heavy and hot make-out session.

You wanted her to work for it. To earn it. And to your surprise, she didn't seem deterred in the least. She'd been respectful and patient. Well, mostly patient. You knew she was raring to go, but any time you pumped the brakes she backed off.

Your hands were running through her hair and you two were - consciously or not - rocking your hips against one another's as she kissed and lightly sucked on your neck and her hands began to inch under your top. Your core was throbbing with need already.

"What if someone comes by?" You managed to say, eyes falling shut at the sensations she was sending through your body.

"No one ever comes here. Don't worry," she responded easily.

Your eyes fluttered opened, a frown slowly forming across your forehead. The lightness and excitement that had been coursing through your veins a moment before was immediately replaced with a heavy pit in your stomach.

You pulled back, slowly dropping your hands away from her head to her waist and pushing gently. She extended her neck, working to keep her lips in contact with your neck before eventually relenting with a confused look and allowing herself to be pushed back.

"I should probably go," you said, tone admittedly a bit flat as you failed to hold eye contact with her while you smoothed out your clothes.

"Wh-huh?" She asked, blatantly puzzled by your change in demeanor. "What's wrong?"

You shook your head subtly and began to walk away. You were deeply tempted to not reply at all or to just deflect, but instead you replied with, "Look. I'm not going to be just some other girl you fuck in a stairwell between classes, okay?"

You had your back to her and were pushing the door open so you missed whatever physical reaction she had, but her perturbed, "Are you serious right now?" rang loud in your ears.

You continued to walk outside, her footsteps close behind you and you turned around folding your arms against yourself.

"Yeah. I am," you told her almost wearily. You could see the frustration on her face and she laughed in disbelief.

"What," you challenged. "Are you going to tell me you haven't brought other girls here? Made out with them there? Fucked them even?"

Despite her irritation, she averted her gaze, scoffing lightly and eventually offering an exaggerated shrug.

"And if I did?"

You shook your head, turning away slightly with a huff. She gave an empty laugh.

"Would you rather I lie? 'No, baby, you're the only one ever!'" She finished mockingly.

"What the fuck, Jess," you retorted, voice rising slightly as you narrowed your eyes at her. "You don't need to be an asshole about it." Your face felt hot with anger, but suddenly it shifted and you knew if you weren't careful you were going to start crying. "I just don't want to be treated the same as all the others." You scowled, pushing back further emotion, "If what you say is true and things are different with me."

She exhaled heavily, dropping her gaze and stretching out her fingers and opening her palms as a way to calm herself. She took a breath and lifted her head to meet your eyes once more, still speaking tersely, but calmer than you'd been.

"That's why I'm frustrated," she said. "You are very different and I feel very different about you. For you. And I do treat you differently! Do you think I was texting those girls all day? Telling them I miss them. Planning dates. Telling them all my hopes and fears; asking them about theirs? Bringing them to hang out with my friends? And I sure as shit didn't ask them to be my girlfriend."

A wave of guilt rushed over you. Okay, maybe you were still making a sweeping generalization, but you still felt the way you did.

"I'm sorry," you relented slightly, but went on. "I see what you're saying. And I'm trying. But I still can't help it sometimes. I-I don't know. I know you're not who I originally thought you were. But I guess a part of me is still scared. I," you paused, words getting caught in your throat, "I really like you, Jess. And - moments like this make me terrified that I'm just going to get left behind like one of your other girls."

Jessie sighed quietly, dropping her gaze once more as she kicked distractedly at the sidewalk. When she looked back up her eyes were sad, but you could still see the warmth behind them.

"I don't know what to do," she said helplessly. "I can't change the past. I want you to feel confident in us. In me. But I can't undo anything from before. I'm trying to be clear and direct about how important you are to me. I really like you too, and I just wish I knew how to get you to trust me."

You exhaled, your own frustration at your feelings seeping in. "It's not that I don't trust you. I mean, I guess that's hard to believe, but that's really not what's going on," you insisted. "And I understand that you can't change anything from the past. And you shouldn't have to. That's just something I need to get over. It's really just...I don't want to be the same as the other girls."

She watched you quietly as she contemplated. She took a couple of steps towards you, closing the gap and tentatively taking your hands in hers.

"I promise you you're not. And I understand that my reputation has made trust a bit more difficult. But, I really, really need you to know that this - and you - are special to me." She nodded as she continued. "You're right - I probably shouldn't have brought you to the same spot I brought other girls. Especially given," she looked away briefly, "what I'd do with them there. I can see now that was not the wisest. I really wasn't thinking that way - I just wanted to be alone with you and knew we could be there."

You sighed softly and removed your hands from hers to wrap them around her back, pulling her into a hug. She squeezed you tightly and kissed the side of your head.

"Thank you. I know you didn't mean anything negative. I just...I got in my head. But, yeah, if you can try to be more mindful of things like that, I'll work on not reacting so impulsively."

"Deal," she chuckled. She pulled back enough for you to see the way she cocked an eyebrow at you playfully. You weren't sure where she was going with this, but you were grateful for the sudden levity and the forgiveness it implied. "And for the record, it's not just all sunshine and rainbows on my end either, you know." She smirked at you and continued.

"Despite my bravado, there's a certain level of insecurity that comes with having the history I do and now meeting this incredible woman and wanting something serious and long-term with her. A no-strings-attached lifestyle is easy breezy - you don't get invested and you don't get hurt. But with you? I don't want to disappoint you. And you can definitely hurt me. I'm not used to that."

You searched her face as she finished speaking and warmth radiated throughout your chest. You kissed her and another wave of affection rushed through you as she squeezed you securely against her.

"I didn't mean to disrespect you at all. I'm really sorry," she said quietly as your kiss ended and she tucked her head against yours.

You pulled back to look at her. Her dark eyes were soft and shimmering and you laid a single kiss on her lips.

"Come with me," you said as you took her by the hand and led her back to the stairwell. You bit back a laugh at the curious smirk on her face as she allowed you to maneuver her against the wall. You smiled as her eyes slowly fell shut as you leaned in to kiss her.

"Guess this means you aren't too mad at me?" She muttered jokingly into the kiss. A crooked grin crossed your lips as you gently grasped her chin and had her meet your gaze.

"You're forgiven," you said with teasing benevolence before arching an eyebrow. "But don't push your luck." She chuckled and shook her head with a smile.

"I wouldn't dream of it."

You grinned as you engaged her a deep, slow kiss, this time your hands sneaking under her shirt and splaying out across her abs. A spark of satisfaction flared and you had to hold back a fuller smile as you felt her breath hitch and the faintest moan escaped her throat.

"I like you so much," you whispered as you began to trail kisses down her neck, noting the way her fingers dug into your waist.

"I like you a lot too," she said with a breathy laugh. You fought back a grin as you pressed your thigh between hers and ground up into her.

"Oh shit," she said, still breathless, another laugh in awe. You got the impression the tables weren't typically turned on her like this. You continued, your hand now toying with the button on her pants. She let out another soft moan. "Fuck, you're getting me so hot."

You smiled smugly as you nipped at her neck.

"Good," you said simply as you pulled back entirely, breaking off all contact and loving how her hands stretched out to follow you and only falling away as you stepped out of reach.

You saw the tiniest, cutest frown form across her forehead as her eyes fluttered open in confusion.

"Call me later?" You asked sweetly with a flirtatious shrug, already turning on your heel and heading for the door.

"Wait, what?" She called after you, her confusion evident in her voice.

You stepped through the door, but turned back to give her an innocent smile. She stared after you like a lost puppy. "We're even now. Call me later, baby."

She belatedly opened her mouth to speak, but you simply blew her a kiss and let the door fall shut.

And call you she did. In fact, when you woke up the next morning you had a text from her in the middle of the night.

"I can't even sleep because I'm still thinking about the stairwell. Nobody's ever made me feel like this. I feel like I'm drunk on you lol. I know that's stupid. But. I can't stop thinking about you."

-----------

You slung your bag over your shoulder and scrolled through your phone as you began to exit your class. You walked head down into the masses of students until someone brushed against your arm and fell into step with you.

"How was class?"

You frowned, puzzled momentarily until your brain caught up and a smile crossed your face at who it was.

"Well hello," you greeted as you gently pushed your shoulder into her, jostling her.

"Hey baby," she greeted with a winning smile as she held out a coffee for you.

"Now this is service," you teased as you took it.

"Only the best for my girl," she said with a wink.

"Is your class cancelled or something?" You asked, knowing her next class was in an entirely different building across campus.

"No, but my last one got out early. Thought I'd surprise you with a coffee," she said, obviously very pleased with herself.

"You're the sweetest," you said as you leaned over mid-step to kiss her cheek. She smiled.

"Don't tell anyone."

You rolled your eyes fondly. "Yeah, everyone thinks you're such a jerk."

"You did," she quipped.

"I didn't think you were a jerk," you responded haughtily. "Just a thoughtless womanizer," you chuckled.

"Oh, well thank you for clarifying," she replied dryly with an eye roll of her own as she laced her fingers with yours. "Well now that you know I'm not a total deviant, want to come out for drinks tonight? Mia's back so we're all getting together."

"Sure," you responded lightly as you gave her hand a squeeze.

"Okay, great," she said before leaning over and kissing your cheek before stepping away, walking backwards towards another hall. "See you tonight." She gave you another wink. "Don't miss me too much until then."

That evening you were in a crowded dorm room, solo cup in hand, the bass of some song underlining conversations throughout the space. Mia stood across from you.

"Glad I got a chance to chat with you more. I knew I had to get to know you better because you have got our girl swooning," she teased with a smirk.

"Oh my gosh, not at all," you dismissed though you averted your gaze and felt a blush coming on. Mia laughed heartily and cocked an eyebrow.

"No, no. I've never seen Jess like this before. She used to make fun of other girls for being all lovesick, but now she's even worse than them. Though don't tell her that," she laughed, "she thinks she's being all nonchalant and cool about it."

Your head buzzed with excitement over Mia's words. The extra validation cemented your growing confidence in how significant this connection really was to Jessie. You couldn't help but direct your gaze away from Mia in search of the girl in question. You caught her eye across the room and flashed a smile with a quick wink. You watched as she excused herself from her conversation and began to weave through the crowd.

"Hey, you good?" She asked quietly as she approached, laying a hand on your arm as she kissed your temple. You gave her a quiet smile, holding her gaze.

"Yeah, I'm good."

You didn't think you held her eye contact that long, but your attention and Jessie's was drawn towards Mia as she laughed. She shook her head in amusement.

"Okay, later lovebirds," she deadpanned as she held up her drink in a 'cheers' and walked away.

"I trust Mia was treating you well?" Jessie asked as her eyes followed Mia momentarily while chuckling.

"Of course," you replied with a cheeky grin. "She took great care of me."

"Hopefully not too great," she teased. Your jaw dropped, scandalized though you laughed.

"You're not serious. You. Jessie Fleming. Get jealous?" You asked, eyes bright with amusement as you felt a fluttering in your stomach.

Jessie made a face and laughed, though you could easily see the way her cheeks grew flush. She eventually shrugged.

"Hey, what can I say? I know my teammates are awesome and you're an incredible girl, you can have your pick."

You rolled your eyes. "You're being silly," you said as you gave her an affectionate smile. She held up her hands with charming smirk.

"Just saying. I'm not taking what we have for granted. You don't have to pick me."

You 'tsked' her, arms folded. "Well. I do," you replied, shoulder back and head held high. "So you can relax."

Jessie leaned in, placing a hand on your waist as she kissed your cheek. Her breath tickled your skin. "Well, consider me beyond pleased."

You held her gaze again. Suddenly, there were too many people around. You were overwhelmed with a need to be close to her. Alone with her.

"How's your night going?" You asked, spurring a curious frown from her.

"Fine? Good?" She answered with a soft laugh. "Yours?"

You shrugged lightly. "Nice." You cocked your head as you glanced away purposefully. "Could be better."

"Oh?" She asked. "How so?

You reached out and smoothed out the shoulder of her shirt before playing with the collar.

"It's just starting to feel a little crowded in here," you said with flippant lament. You sighed quietly, but in exaggeration as she processed your words. She cracked a smile.

"Yeah? Is that so?" She asked, chin tilting up slightly as she studied you. She glanced towards the door. "I mean, we could always go."

"Oh I wouldn't want to force you to leave," you relayed sweetly and she gave you a wicked grin.

"Yeah, you're really forcing my hand here," she said flatly. You looked her up and down with a smirk of your own.

"I can find some other things for your hand to do."

Her eyes grew wide for a moment and her mouth fell open at your brazen comment. She eventually closed her mouth, now giving you a less than subtle once over.

"It's not nice to tease," she warned.

"Who's teasing?" You asked innocently while locking eyes with her.

She puffed her cheeks out in an exhale, gaze flitting across the room with an appreciative shake of her head that left you holding back a smug smile. She reached out to lace her fingers with yours, her thumb teasing the palm of your hand.

"Well, are you going to let me take you home or what?" She whispered. You raised both eyebrows at her and clicked your tongue.

"I believe you'll be coming home with me," you retorted playfully. "If anyone's going to be burdened with the walk of shame, it's going to be you." You shrugged. "This time anyway."

She laughed, loud enough that it even attracted the attention of couple of people in adjacent conversations. She sniffed with a residual chuckle and nodded. "Sure. I'll shoulder that responsibility."

On the walk to your building she asked if you should stop at her room to grab, any, you know, supplies. You didn't break your pace at all and simply responded with, "No. I want you now."

She grinned like a Cheshire cat, placing a hand on the small of your back and increased her strides, pulling you along too. "Well then let's not waste any more time."

You'd texted your roommate on the way back and was grateful to see she'd vacated the premises by the time you stepped inside. You'd given her space many times, so it was her turn to return the favour.

You'd barely closed the door when a lighthearted yelp escaped your throat as Jessie spun you around and lifted you off the ground, pressing your back against the door. Her lips immediately latched onto your neck as your arms and legs wrapped around her.

"Fuck, you have no idea how much I've wanted you," she breathed into your neck as she nipped and sucked at the skin there harder than she'd ever done before and it immediately had your core pulsing.

Something between a gasp and a moan left your mouth as you ran one hand through her hair, pressing her mouth further against your neck and she moaned into you while digging her fingers harder into the underside of your thighs.

Both of you were too hungry to take your time, so it wasn't long before she carried you to the bed, lips still locked as she laid you down.

Your hands were under her shirt and she chuckled as she sat up and took it off, tossing it carelessly to the floor.

"Now you," she said with a lustful grin as her hands wandered below your shirt and pushed it upwards. You arched your back off the bed and she reached around to help support you while she peeled your shirt off with her other hand. She was still discarding the garment when she leaned down to begin laying teasing kisses down your chest to your bra. Her hand was on the clasp of your bra and you chuckled as she unclasped it with ease, drawing the straps down off of your shoulders with her teeth.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous," she said in awe as she sat back again to take in your half-naked image in the dim of the room.

A small cry left your lips as she dipped her head back down and drew one of your nipples into her mouth, her teeth grazing as she released it before latching on again and swirling her tongue around the hardened nipple. You set both hands on the back of her head, fingers partially digging into her scalp in appreciation as she attentively explored you.

She switched nipples and her hand caressed up the outside of your thigh and grabbed your ass through your jeans, kneading firmly and hungrily as she moaned into your breast.

You grasped her other hand and guided it between your bodies, your own hand undoing the button of your jeans.

“You’re sure?” She asked, pausing despite your invitation. You rolled your hips up into her waiting hand and continued to guide her.

She took over, unzipping and pushing her hand down towards your core. Her fingers pressed firmly across your folds through the fabric of your underwear. Your jaw fell as her fingers indirectly grazed your clit.

She moaned. "I can already feel how wet you are," she said in wonder and her tone assured you she was more than pleased by this.

She pushed your panties aside, her fingers caressing through your slick folds for the first time and you immediately groaned in pleasure and rolled your hips up into her eager hand.

"You feel so fucking amazing already," she said, head lolling to the side momentarily before she began kissing her way down your torso. You tried not to whine as she removed her hand long enough to remove your jeans.

"You're going to get sick of me telling you how gorgeous you are," she said as she nipped at your underwear, tugging them down teasingly with her teeth. She hooked her fingers into the band but you stopped her temporarily.

"I want your clothes off, too," you told her in a way that left no room for debate. She snickered before pushing herself up off of you and shimmying off her clothes.

"Anything for you," she joked as she returned her attention to you, her lips laying fleeting kisses along the crease between your thighs and core. You heard her chuckle as your legs grew restless, rubbing against the sheets. She reached up and rubbed teasing circles around your nub through your panties.

"Please," you said simply.

"Please what?" She asked innocently and you could hear the smile in her voice before her tongue made contact with your skin, eliciting a gasp out of you.

You writhed beneath her. Even though this was brand new territory for you two, you felt safe expressing yourself.

"I need you," you answered, trusting that it would be well received and not feeling embarrassed or self-conscious in your saying so.

You heard a satisfied grunt from her and you drew your legs back eager to help her remove your panties. You bit your lower lip at the tender kiss she planted on your hip bone.

She began to kiss her way down your mound and although you really just wanted her to fuck you, to feel her fingers inside of you, you figured you'd waited this long, might as well let her set the pace.

Her lips brushed along your folds as she settled herself between your legs and that was enough to send a pulse through your core, but you absolutely throbbed as her fingers dug into the tops of your thighs and she pulled herself closer with an eager moan.

You were honestly contemplating begging her to not tease you any longer when her tongue began to trail up and down between your folds, your back bucking off the bed at the sudden sensations coursing through you.

You heard a muffled laugh from between your legs but before you could protest she began lapping up juices that were surely dripping from your core. Despite your intentions your back arched once more and you gripped the sheets tightly in her hands.

"Don't worry, baby," she said, "I'll take good care of you."

You fleetingly considered scolding her for her bravado, but she flicked her tongue upwards and over your clit before latching onto it with her mouth and sucking in a rhythm that urged your hips to roll up into her face further.

You could feel her smiling into you and she was entirely undeterred by your bucking and moving, confidently and easily keeping her mouth centered on you wherever your body took you.

She sucked, licked, and nipped at you in such a skilled way you'd never experienced before. You'd thought you'd had good sex before; evidently you were wrong.

To top it off, the way she moaned and chased you up the bed with a blatant hunger made you feel wanted and desired in a way you'd never felt before either. The way she devoured you, muffled moans sending pleasurable vibrations through your core, head rocking into you and lapping at you as though you were the most delicious thing she'd had made you feel like she'd never wanted anything more.

And when she reached out and laced her fingers of one hand with yours? Your heart melted.

It was blissful in so many ways.

You hadn't even realized she'd removed her other hand from your thigh when you felt her tease your entrance with a finger. A shuddering moan fell from your lips as she gently dipped a digit inside. You threw your head back into the mattress, back arching all over again as she began slipping a second finger inside, stretching you out deliciously as she continued to flick her tongue across your clit.

Her fingers felt just as good inside of you as you'd imagined and before you knew it she was curling her fingers up against your g-spot. You let out a low moan and your hips began rocking against her with greater fervour. She gave your hand a squeeze and you just held on for dear life, clutching her hand as if it was the only anchor holding you here. You reached down with your free hand and gripped her hair, pulling another pleased noise from her.

The pressure building between your core reached a tipping point. You don't even know how many strokes she'd taken - not many at all - when your cries and whimpers got caught in your throat, mouth drawn into a silent 'o' as your hips began to jerk against her as the tension deep inside of you burst. Your sounds eventually caught up with you as several seconds later you finally mustered a cry as you were already well soaking her face.

She stayed with you the whole time, continuing to help you ride out your orgasm and slowing her motions as you gradually came down.

As you fell back into the bed, your limbs and entire body felt so heavy. It's not like you two had been at it for all that long, but you felt so spent. Even as she began to tenderly kiss her way up your body, you couldn't muster up the energy to caress or hold her. You couldn't even open your eyes.

"You are so incredibly beautiful," she whispered into your ear as she settled herself against you and wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close.

You still couldn't make a noise or embrace her, you simply let her pull you against her.

"You're incredible. And that was so amazing. I-," she paused. "You're so sexy. All of that is going to be engrained in my mind for a long, long time."

You let your head fall to the side and against hers. She chuckled and kissed your forehead and you became aware of how she was gently thumbing your shoulder as she held you.

"Fuck," you eventually said. You heard her hold back a laugh and you finally opened your eyes to look at her. Her eyes were bright and shimmering as she looked down at you. A lazy, crooked smile crossed your lips as you reached up and pushed her face away playfully. "You are way too pleased with yourself right now," you laughed.

"I'm not!" She protested though she laughed. "I'm just- I'm really happy," she eventually said.

"Yeah?" You chuckled as you pulled her closer and she gladly obliged. You tucked your head under her chin. "Well that makes two of us," you laughed and she kissed the top of your head. You sighed contentedly. "Well now I know what all the fuss is about."

Your eyes opened as you felt her stiffen slightly. She shifted, clearing her throat quietly.

"Hey," was all she said, probably meant to be teasing or warning, but sounding sad instead.

You pulled back to look at her. It was true, the bright, warm smile she'd worn was now faint as she looked back at you. You kissed her softly.

"I'm sorry. I thought it was a funny joke. Not appropriate," you said.

"I just want it to be about us," she said quietly as her gaze fell as she drew small, distracted designs on your collarbone with her finger.

"I know," you agreed in the same tone as you placed a hand on hers and caressed the back of it with your thumb. She kissed your cheek. "Me too. I just - you're good. Extraordinarily good. And, well, the fact fleeting crosses my mind that, you know, how do you get so good? Well, practice makes perfect. So..."

Jessie huffed inaudibly, but you felt the air tickle your skin.

"I know we talked about this," you rushed on. "And I'm not upset. Honestly." You chuckled, hoping to lighten things. "I mean, I'm reaping the benefits here." She cracked a faint smirk, but not exactly what you hoped to see. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything."

"It's okay," she relented as she kissed your cheek once more with a soft sigh. "Just as long as you know you're the only one I want."

You nodded, but she must not have been convinced because she carried on.

"Because, if it was anyone else, I would've been down the stairs and out of the building by now. And," she punctuated, "-not that I should say anything- but, I typically don't get undressed. I'm not looking for intimacy or anything like that. But, I want that with you."

You held a hand up to her cheek and ran your thumb softly against her cheekbone.

"And? Do you have that with me?"

She nodded, leaning her head into your palm.

"Yeah. And it's," she trailed off, her gaze falling briefly as she smirked at herself. She looked up at you again. "It's really great."

You held her gaze and inhaled. Your head was swimming with all sorts of thoughts and feelings. A particular set of words sat on the tip of your tongue. She must've noticed.

"What?" She asked with a tender smile. You considered dismissing it, but instead you just gave a gentle shake of your head.

"I'm falling very hard for you, Jessie Fleming."

Her eyes lit up and you watched as she searched yours. In this moment, this woman who was all charm and confidence looked exceedingly vulnerable.

"That's not funny to joke about," she eventually said with a forced smirk and a single, faint laugh.

"Who says I'm joking?" You asked with a soft laugh.

Realization settled in her and she shifted so she was slightly more on top of you.

"Don't joke," she repeated. You held her gaze, laughing quietly again.

"I'm not."

She rolled you fully onto your back again so she was on top of you. Her knee nudged your legs apart and it any other reality you would've been embarrassed at how your core immediately throbbed.

She looked down at you, eyes different than any way you'd seen them before. Darker somehow. But it didn't scare you. It made you want her more.

"You're everything I wanted," she said. "And I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since that first day in class." She subtly began to rock against you and your hands began to wander along her back.

"Everybody told me what this was supposed to feel like, but it just never clicked for me before. At all. But," she took a short, stuttered breath as she continued to grind against you and her hand began to travel down your torso. "You have me. You're on my mind all the time. Any time I'm away from you, I'm just reliving past conversations and moment or dreaming up new ones."

She shook her head in mild disbelief. "I've never felt this way," she said as her hand settled between your legs. You were certain there was no way she couldn't feel the heat radiating off of you. And somehow, with every declaration from her you grew wetter and wetter.

"Me neither," you told her. She smiled and ran two fingers through your folds to then tease your entrance - immediately confirming how wet you were - her eyes lit up and her smile turned into a grin.

"You are so gorgeous. And so fucking amazing," she told you in reverie.

Your exhale was unsteady as your center throbbed in want. "Jess," you said; panted even. "I need you."

A sharp gasp escaped you as she slowly sunk two fingers inside of you. Your fingers dug into her skin at how amazing it felt to be filled up by her again. When you opened your eyes once more she was still watching you intently.

"You feel so fucking good," she said, a smirk tugging at her lips. "Mm," she glanced down, slowly drawing her fingers out until they rest at your entrance before pushing in again more swiftly. "So fucking tight."

"Jesus Christ," you said as your hands came to her arms and you clutched them while your head rolled back into the pillow.

"I want you cumming all over my fingers," she told you with quiet assuredness. "Not just tonight. Any and every fucking night you'll let me," she said as she tucked her head down and began to kiss your neck, drawing a shuddering whimper out of you.

"Oh Jess," you moaned as your hips ground into her waiting hand. A shiver ran through you as she breathed against your neck and nipped at you.

"My name sounds so good coming out of your mouth," she praised.

If you had any kind of witty quip, it was immediately extinguished as she began to pump fully and steadily in and out of your hot, wet tunnel. A heady moan worked its way up your throat as she curled her fingers inside of you like earlier, each stroke sending a pulse through you.

You wrapped your legs around her and she began to thrust into you, using her hips to push her fingers deeper and harder into you.

"You look so good underneath me. You're so beautiful," she said as she continued to fuck you and it wasn't long until you could feel your wetness dripping down you and onto the sheets.

You were never overly vocal in bed, especially given the dorm situation and neighbours. But the way her thumb teased your clit and the way her fingers filled you with each stroke, your voice resounded off of the walls of your dorm.

Soon you could feel your core tightening much as it did earlier. You clenched around her fingers as she panted above you. You didn't need to tell her you were close; she fucked you steadily, carrying you over the threshold. Your whole body stiffened, fingers digging sharply into her skin as she groaned in response as you began to convulse around her fingers.

"God, you are so gorgeous cumming in my arms like this," she declared as she continued to pump in and out of you, slowing only when you began to grow slack in her embrace.

"Holy fuck," you eventually panted. She was laying slow, tender kisses along your shoulder as she waited you out.

"Your roommate's not coming back tonight, is she?" She asked.

"No," you said and she cracked a salacious grin.

"Good."

-------

The next morning you awoke. You inadvertently groaned as you shifted. Your body was exhausted. The memories of last night flooded your mind and you glanced over only to see the space next to you unoccupied.

You sat up immediately and your eyes scanned the room for any evidence of Jessie. Her shoes were gone, her clothes. You sat up further as your heart began to thump loudly in your chest and confusion settled over you.

You shook your head with a frown. No. This didn't make sense. Not after everything.

You reached over to grab your phone. As you did, you spied a sticky note on your bedside table.

"I'm a morning person. What can I say! I'm getting us coffee and croissants. I'll be back soon. - J"

The lump in your throat immediately subsided and you released a breath you hadn't known you were holding. You opened your phone to see a text from her as well.

"Just in case you missed the note. I'm getting coffee and croissants. Be back soon, Beautiful."

You laid back on the bed, pulling the sheets up with you and letting out another sigh as your body relaxed once more.

Okay. This made much more sense. It wasn't all a lie.

A short while later you heard the door handle turn and the door was tentatively pushed open a crack. You found yourself smiling immediately as she tip-toed in, her straightening and smiling fully when she saw you were awake.

"Good morning," she greeted as she approached with said coffee and baked goods in hand.

"You're lucky, Fleming," you teased as you rolled onto your side as she set everything down. "I was about to lose it until I saw your note."

Jessie gave you a teasing look as she sat down on the edge of the bed. She spoke, unbothered, "Waking up next to a beautiful woman who I think is amazing? Yeah, I am lucky."

You chuckled as she kissed your forehead. "Well, I didn't get that luxury. Just a cold and lonely bed," you teased.

"I get antsy once I'm up. I didn't want to wake you," she explained. You pulled her in for a kiss.

"Fine. I forgive you."

Jessie smiled, returning your kiss. "Thank you. And, mmm, morning breath."

"Oh my God," you gasped, mortified as you swatted at her, only causing her to laugh. She leaned back in, pushing you down onto the bed with a kiss.

"Hey, I don't mind. I want you, morning breath and all," she chuckled.

"You better," you grumbled good-naturedly as she continued to kiss you. Her hand began to wander and you knew very well what she'd find.

"Mm, and it seems like you want me, too," she grinned. You chuckled, but rolled your hips into her hand.

"Coffee's not the only way to wake me up."

[arabellasleopardcoat]

Autumn (Cregan Stark x Reader)

Summary: As a Princess, you aren’t used to rejection. But Cregan, your husband, has vowed to only ever love one woman, and it isn't you. Right?

Warnings: Unreliable narrator!!!! Mature language. Descriptions of grief.

A/N: I was not expecting the response my silly little idea has gotten. I am very thankful for all of you who decide to read it, and would love to hear what you think of this chapter. Series masterlist here.

YOU CRUMPLE THE letter in your fist, hearing the parchment wrinkle with a satisfying sound. Then, you throw it into the flames, watching as the fire grows slightly bigger, and the ball uncurls, alight for a second, before it is fully consumed.

It doesn’t soothe you as you thought it would. The odious parchment offering you an honor guard from your future husband might be gone, but you still have to journey North before a moon since Luke’s funeral has passed.

At the thought of your brother, a sharp, stabbing pain, manifests in your chest. You choke down a sob. You had not realized you had started to measure time like this. Before and After Luke’s death, as people did with Before and After the Conquest.

Your grief only serves to fuel your rage, though. How could he? How could he demand you be wed when you were still in mourning? When you were still thinking of your sweet brother, not of keeps, and lords, and men?

“You dare!” You screech, barging inside Jacaerys’ rooms. Whatever he is doing, hunched over his desk, is interrupted. “You cannot do this to me! Mother will not allow it.”

Jace sets down his quill. He turns to look at you, his expression calm. You would think him indifferent, were it not for the fact that there is the slightest furrow of his brows.

“We need men.” He states, simply, and when you are about to interrupt him to say there are many more in the realm, he keeps speaking. “We need his men. The North is the largest kingdom, you know this as well as I. And when a Stark calls the banners, they are the only ones who respond in full.”

Your hands ball into fists. You hate that he is acting so composed, so rational. After Luke died, you felt like a chained dragon, roaring your grief and wishing to be freed to set ablaze those that had wronged you. Once, you had been as gracious as him and mother, composed even in the height of emotion. But grief has made you into live lighting, ready to strike at the slightest provocation.

Your emotions are out of control. You know this. You get angered at the barest hint of an insult, you cry as easily as a newborn babe. Knowing it doesn’t stop you from lashing out, though. It only makes you regret it later.

“Our mother promised I was to have my pick of suitors, not that I would be sold like a cow!” You point an accusing finger to his chest. Jace sighs and gets up, surrounding the desk.

“I understand you are upset.” He tries offering you a hug, but you jerk away. His face hardens slightly. “But this is war.”

As if you do not know. As if you haven’t lost a sibling, too. Your face crumbles, and Jace calls your name, but hearing his voice, how similar Luke and him sound, only makes you cry harder.

“Hey, hey, it’s not so bad.” He hugs you, pressing your face against his doublet. The material is soft against your skin, and you feel tempted to let go of your rage against him and sink into his arms. Jace is barely a man, too, just as you are barely a woman. He is doing as best as he can, spread too thin by the weight of responsibility that comes with being heir. “Cregan is a good man. I got to know him during the time…”

Yes, he was doing as best as he could. But it hadn’t been his own hand that he had bartered away, had it? The insidious voice in your head asks. It isn’t him who is making a sacrifice. And such a hollow one. He claims to need men, but he won’t be getting even the full northern army.

“You sold me for a few Greybeards! Not even a proper army! Good Gods, you are a fool.” You cry out.

“Lord Stark assures me…” Jace starts, with the tone of someone who has already had this same argument. Were you thinking clearly, you would pause and realize why. Instead...

“He has put a wife in the grave already.” It is the only thing you know about him. Not much is whispered about Cregan Stark, at least, nothing concerning. You would remember it. The only thing that you know, though, is that he is a Stark and his wife is dead.

“You make it sound as if he killed her himself with his bare hands.” Jace scoffs. “I assure you, he dearly loved Arra Norrey and would have never harmed her. You know the dangers of childbirth. Perhaps even better than I.”

Perfect. He hadn’t killed the damn woman, he was just still in love with her. By the Seven, Jace was a fool. You hated being second in anything. Here, at home, you were already second to Jace, and you resented it. Being a twin meant having to share everything, including the love of those around you.

When you married, you had hoped to be the only woman in your husband’s life, not to be compared to a ghost. You had seen exactly how that went. King Viserys had never forgotten his first wife, calling for her years after her death, even as Alicent was the one to nurse him during his illness.

“He is still a widower.” You repeat, stubbornly.

Jace pinches the bride of his nose, before letting out a deep exhale. His next words are spoken extremely slowly, as if talking to a child. It makes you bristle.

“You said you were afraid of childbirth, and he already has an heir. There is no better solution.”

It would be thoughtful, were it not for the fact that:

“His first wife died in childbirth!”

As Jace prepares a scathing comeback, face scrunched up in mirrored displeasure to your own, the voice of your mother startles you both.

“What is going on here?” She asks, mouth pursed in an expression identical to Jace. The Queen looks as regal as ever, and it only serves to make you feel a tad embarrassed. With wild hair and eyes, face flushed from rage, you are sure that next to her, you must look like a wilding. “Why can the whole castle hear your quarrel?”

“It’s his fault.” You accuse, pointing at Jace.

“My fault?!” He says, placing his hands on his hips. “Apologies, I think they didn’t hear your screeching about Lord Stark in Driftmark!”

“So you informed her?” Your mother asks, calmly. Too calmly for someone who has just found out. Had it been her plan all along?

“Did you knew all along?” You whisper.

Rhaenyra turns to look at you. As always, your mother has a smile ready for you, but as of late, they are laced with sadness. This one is no exception.

“I did. I think it is for the best. You will be safer next to Cregan Stark, in Winterfell, than you could ever be here.”

You examine her expression. Her eyes are swollen and red rimmed, grief clouding her regal face. There is a certain determination in her features, a calm acceptance in her eyes, that tells you that her mind is already made.

Her face is not one of a distraught mother who will soon give her daughter away. You know her too well to mistake it for that.

“You hoped for this.” You keep your voice dangerously low, your anger threatening to bubble up in your throat. “You did because I have no dragon. I bet you are scheming to send Rhaena away too!”

Your mother doesn’t answer.

Her silence is damming. You turn to look at Jace, disbelieving. Of course the two of them had been scheming behind your back. Your brother had always been the closest one to your mother.

“And neither of you could tell me to my face?” You ask, letting out a hysterical laugh. “I had to find out from a letter from fucking Cregan Stark. I am not leaving. You cannot make me. ”

Suddenly, your mother grabs you by the shoulders. Her face is frightening, like an avenging goddess of Old Valyria. Her lips are curled back, teeth bared, and her eyes are as wild as yours.

“Listen to me!” She says, shaking you hard. Tears begin to fall from her eyes, but she doesn’t seem to register them. “Listen to me! Luke is dead. He is dead, and you will obey me because I cannot bear to lose any more of my children. You are going North. Your Queen commands it.”

She turns on her heel and leaves, leaving you standing on still shaking legs.

CREGAN HAD BEEN lingering near the entrance of Winterfell ever since his men had spotted the Queen’s banner on the horizon. Back then, they had expected the party to arrive in half a day. He didn’t care if he appeared too eager, his usual stoicism was failing him in the face of his nerves.

The first time Cregan had married, he had known the bride for a long time. Arra had been his childhood companion, and they had spent many moons together, playing Come-into-my-castle and Bears-and-maids. Cregan had unfortunately been the maid many more times than he preferred.

He had not feared marriage then. Spending forever chained to another person wouldn’t be so bad if that person was Arra.

Now, he did. Cregan had been content on his own, and had no desire to remarry. Even if he had, a southron princess wouldn’t have been his first choice. Though Prince Jacaerys had been honorable and dutiful, he was still naive. They were nearly of an age, but when Cregan had stood next to him, he had felt as old as his Greybeards.

A naive little princess would never survive in the North. His lords would eat her alive. The Lady of Winterfell couldn’t be some frail little thing, she had to be strong. Strong enough to hold Winterfell in his absence if needed, were the threat from beyond the Wall come to pass.

Arra had been the only woman he had thought of marrying because she had been the only woman he had thought fit to the task. She had been of the North, as he was, and it had helped him envision a future together where they ruled over the very same land that had birthed both of them.

It was only adequate that the Lady of Winterfell was a woman of the North. Southron Princesses, especially those who had been groomed to marry inside the family, could be of little help running a keep. If he had to remarry and choose a southron, Cregan would have preferred a stronger one.

Yet if wishes were dragons, beggars would soar through the skies. Prince Jacaerys had seemed a bit insulted at his offer of Greybeards, but with winter coming, it was all Cregan could spare. He was no stranger to political games, though, and knew he had to smooth down the feathers his offer had ruffled.

Hence, the offer. To receive the toothless dragon in his home and keep it safe. A favor, from an older brother to another. The Gods knew if Sara was near war at all, Cregan would do everything in his power to send her somewhere safe. He would be forever indebted to the man who aided him to do so.

And Prince Jacaerys, showing himself to be the dutiful prince and brother he was, had understood the offer for what it was. A true alliance. A Pact of Ice and Fire, to bound their bloodlines and keep the beloved, but defenseless sister safe.

It had impressed Cregan. Jacaerys was a serious man, no matter his dubious parentage. He could picture himself following him. After all, his Targaryen blood and character were the important part. That was what made him a worthy King.

Without a dragon of your own, your journey had been perilous. He knew you had ridden without banners until you had safely arrived into northern territory, a feat that had taken you a whole moon. Cregan had offered to have his men meet you halfway, but his letter doing so had gone unanswered. It had only prompted new anxieties for him.

What if he failed to fulfill his promise because you were abducted or harmed in the journey? What if the people riding with Black banners weren’t truly your honor guard, but an ambush prepared by the enemy?

Cregan doubted he would be at ease until he saw you emerge out of your wheelhouse, whole and unscathed. Hence, his waiting by the door. He would not be nervous a moment longer than he needed to.

The first thing Cregan saw was that your honor guard was smaller than he expected. He had known you would travel with a sparse escort, as to not attract undue attention. It was a miracle you had made it here with only ten guards, though. The wheelhouse and the men carried so many packages that Cregan would have known you were a Princess even without expecting you. Anyone would have known.

In contrast, the woman who stepped out of the wheelhouse wasn’t miraculous nor was she what Cregan envisioned when thinking of a Princess.

You were… Pitiful. Cregan understood now why Prince Jacaerys was so desperate to protect you. You wouldn’t survive a winter in the North, hells, it looked like a strong breeze would blow you away.

Your hair and eyes were as dark as the ones of your brother. You wore a pretty wool dress, in mourning black. The lacings on the back were done too tightly, a lot of the ribbon hanging limply, and the dress was loose around your chest and hips. It was clear you had recently lost weight, probably during the journey because the gown hadn’t been altered to fit you.

There were dark circles under your eyes, which were also red rimmed. Your skin was pale, your dark hair braided back in a severe style. Grief didn’t suit you. You looked small and sad, despite having a pleasing figure.

It didn’t help that the dress you had chosen was one far too thin for a sensible northern woman to wear. The day wasn’t even that cold, but you were already shivering. It was barely snowing, for the Gods’s sake!

Cregan approached you and gave you a bow.

“Princess.” He extended his arm to you. You took it, shivering. “I trust your journey was pleasant?”

“Pleasant enough.” At least your voice isn’t frail. The last thing Cregan needed was a soft-spoken southron lady. You even manage to smile at him, which makes you look considerably more attractive.

Cregan would admit one thing, and one thing only: Queen Rhaenyra made pretty children. Both you and Jacaerys had sinful mouths and bewitching dark eyes, though he found yours far more pleasing.

“I am sorry for your loss.” He says, as he escorts you inside Winterfell. Your trembling intensifies, instead of subsiding in the warmth of his hall. You say nothing.

When he risks a glance at your face, your eyes are suspiciously wet. You avoid meeting his eyes, even as he offers you the customary salt and bread.

“I remember when Arra got here.” Cregan offers, awkwardly. He isn’t quite sure of what to say to a grieving Princess, so he decides to share something about himself in hopes that you will open up too. He desperately needs to change the subject. Or to start a subject. He is not picky, anything that keeps you from crying will do. “She brought less of a procession than you did. And less luggage.”

“She was quite closer to home than I.” You reply, and your tone has regained strength. You no longer shake, body stiffer. Cregan decides to take it as a good sign. You are clearly struggling to get a hold of yourself, which is why you turn so tense, so he decides to keep speaking to give you some more time.

“She was. By far a more practical woman.” He smiles at you, teasingly. “But if the fuss makes you happy…”

You laugh. When he gets to know you better, Cregan will realize that your laughter wasn’t genuine.

He will also realize this had been the moment your heart iced over.

YOU PAGE THROUGH your book, in silence. Winterfell doesn’t have court musicians, and for that, you are thankful. Silence has always been your preferred companion right before bed. That, and a good book.

Your obsession with Valyrian history and traditions had been carefully nurtured by your stepfather, Daemon. Neither your mother nor siblings had much interest in your shared heritage, beyond the ability it gave them to ride dragons.

While Baela and Rhaena spoke fluid High Valyrian, the same could not be said for your brothers. As the only girl in the household, your lessons had been spent with the former and not the latter, forcing you to improve. Once you did, you had found reading the tales of old was a pleasant pastime.

You enjoyed laying in bed and imagining all the stories about magic, dragons, and empresses. When you had turned four and ten, Daemon had gifted you your very own book with Valyrian tales, a beautifully bound and illustrated edition that had followed you in your journey North.

“For you to read to your future children.” He had said, back then. You had barely flowered, so you had laughed. “I mean it, Princess. Out of my three girls, you are the only one I envision doing so.”

The day he had acknowledged you as one of his daughters, even if you didn’t share blood, was the happiest nameday you had had. He was right, too. As much as you loved the twins, you couldn’t picture them being motherly. Baela would have to have a son, to inherit after Jace, but you believed that it would be him who took charge of the more fatherly duties while she dedicated herself to statecraft. Rhaena, instead, had a thirst for adventure, to travel and know the world. Her ambition wasn’t conducive to motherhood either.

You, instead, had always dreamed of marrying a man who loved you and starting a family of your own. You envisioned yourself as the lady of a great keep, where you would rule fairly, and raise your children without wet nurses.

Those dreams had already been shattered. The man you had married didn’t love you. He had only done so to secure an alliance. And the man already had a child of his own, an heir. There was no need for you to be a mother anymore.

You turned another page of your book, watching the beautiful illustrations. You had dreamed of reading this to a little girl who looked like you, or perhaps a boy that would have looked like the man of your dreams. They would have learned High Valyrian, and spoke it as beautifully as your mother and stepfather did.

It would not come to pass. Not any longer.

A soft knock on your door makes you set down your book, closing it with great care. Then, you get up and put on your robe over your sleeping shift.

“You may enter.”

Your husband steps in, dressed for bed already. He is a handsome man, you think, biting your lower lip. Tall, dark and handsome, Cregan is the sort of man your childhood self would have pictured marrying.

He could have been the perfect man to fall in love with, were it not for the fact that he would never love you back. He already loved someone else, someone who you could never aspire to match. His first wife, Lady Arra.

As Alicent had learned, it was impossible to overshadow a ghost. Dead as she was, she could never make mistakes. He would forget all her imperfections.

She gave him a child, she was the wife he chose. The one he married for love, not duty. A practical, northern woman his bannermen had surely liked far more as a match to him than a soft southron princess who didn’t even have a dragon.

“I was wondering if you would welcome my company tonight, Princess.” Your husband says, voice emotionless. He is only here because of duty, it seems. “We could share the bed.”

“You said we could wait to consummate our union.” You keep your voice firm. It is not a task you anticipate eagerly, but you are not afraid of it either. You had seen enough of your mother and Daemon to know bedding someone can be pleasing. It is only the awkwardness of doing so with a stranger that puts you off.

“I was not referring to that.” Your husband says, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. “The nights are cold in Winterfell. Is it wrong for a man to seek closeness to his wife?”

You frown. His behavior is most puzzling. He intends to share your bed… To sleep? Your mother shared her bed with Daemon, but she also bedded him. It makes no sense to you that he wants to sleep next to you without touching you. Most marriages don’t do that. Much less if they are political matches.

“It is not a sin. But why would you..?” You question, but your Lord Husband is getting up already, huffing. He seems angered that you are unable to understand his message, whatever it might be. He storms off, leaving you confused over his behaviour.

That night, Cregan dreams of running. Of having a snout covered in blood, of jumping into the river, trying to trap a seahorse.

He never manages to. Wolves aren’t meant to hunt seahorses.

[not-yet-so-broken]

woah is that the point? tell that to the person tagging w "#males are literally unable to feel discomfort bc of sa by women" then. surely they lost the plot more than me.

look I think its stupid when men use identity... nb, trans, race, whatever... to dodge responsibility for MALE violence. As i said its still cringe from him to bring it up bc yes the 'yall' does include him.

but it's STUPID to bring up the comparisons to them dodging male violence when someone is sexually harassing HIM. in this case you are the ones using identity to pretend sexual harassment is le epic funny own and he did something wrong here.

if it's not ur "point", then don't pretend the notes and replies arent a clownshow. ppl saying its just a joke, its hypocrisy for him to care, that he deserves it bc it was happening to women, that SA against men is fair, and ppl acting like this was deserve. comments is negative on him, not negative on how ppl dont care of harassment of women.

you all call all this as bullshit when it gets used against rich women or white women bc class privilege dont make individual harassment ok. so why is some random man supposed to deserve sexual harassment? naaaaaah

on a personal lvl i am simply not trusting yall on this and im tired of being around women that cheer on sexual harassment. there was post recently about how "rape by deception" is ok when women do it, there was a post about a 14yo grooming victim and defending the grown ass woman that did it, there is the post of saying women raping men just isnt horrible, and more. i seen what women on here have said to male rape victims.

you can call me a stupid manlover if u want but as a woman that was assaulted by a woman, im not here to pretend sexual crimes by women are le so funny and cute.

men have been doing this to women for months and i only seem to hear about it on radblr but the second a woman does it to a man it gets 40k likes and “it’s never ok to sexualize anyone like that”

[synvil]

Lights, Camera & Action! // Pornstar! JJ Maybank

a/n : no one asked for this but i decided to make a pt 2 to this au, just bc i can’t stop thinking about it 🤭 and it was such a hit with rafe, so i hope you enjoy!

correction- two people asked for a pt. 2 but i think they meant with rafe but i already started this so apologies!

synopsis : after your last film job with THE Rafe Cameron, you get another job with an up and coming star, and it becomes a hit with your fans.

warnings : nsfw ahead! overstimulation, pussy-eating, rough, squirting, praising, etc.

“[Name]! Fantastic work with Rafe Cameron last week. Everyone loved it!”

Setting your purse down on a nearby counter, you send an appreciative smile to the director. “Thanks, it was nice working with him.” And it was even nicer of him to ask you out afterwards. It was amazing and you spent some time just texting each other due to his busying schedule.

You manage to snag another job, receiving an email from the director about the great ratings and reviews of viewers who enjoyed you on camera with Rafe, and have asked you to return.

So here you were, walking up to the director who places a hand on your shoulder.

“Yes, people loved the video, and, they’re asking to see more of you.” He grins and you chuckle a bit at his enthusiasm. “Well that’s great, i’m glad. Who am I working with this time?” Unfortunately wasn’t going to be Rafe Cameron, since you knew he was doing interviews today.

“Ah, that’s the thing..” The director scratches his beard in thought. “We have an up-and-coming star working with us. He’s recently been gaining lots of popularity and as far as i’m aware, fans have been requesting you two work with one another.”

This information is news to you. You had no idea there was someone that fans have been wanting you to work with. Sure you knew there were lots of rising stars in the makes, but none that you ever heard of or paid attention to.

“Who is he?” You can’t help but ask and the man sighs. “You’ll meet him soon. He’s got great potential on camera but he’s a piece of work off camera. In fact, he’s running late..”

As if on cue, a door slams open and someone comes jogging in. “Hey, sorry man, i’m here now.”

In walked a playful, rugged and messy haired blonde. He wore cargo pants, a white tank and a zip up hoodie that was partially off his shoulders. He seemed so mischievous and playful, and if his lopsided grin was any consolation, you were probably right.

woah. he was kinda hot though.

“JJ, it’s about time.” The director heaves a sigh at the man’s tardiness and he just sheepishly chuckles. “Alright, alright, my bad. But hey, I got you some donuts.” He holds out the box in his hands and the director eyed him before taking the box with an eye roll. “Whatever. Go get freshened up so we can talk about the scene today!”

“Sure, sure~” JJ waves him off as he turns before his eyes catch sight of you. “Oh? Hel-lo, beautiful~”

You furrow your brows as JJ walks up to you, taking your hand and pulling it up to his lips. He presses a kiss to the back of your hand before grinning up at you. “You must be [Name]. Such a beauty you are in person. I loved watching your video last week.”

“Thanks.. You must be JJ.” You dumbly respond and he chuckles. “You can call me yours, if it’s easier?” He flirtatiously smirks and you’re taken back, surprised by the flutter in your heart as you pull back your hand. He doesn’t seem to mind, simply laughing it off as he stands straight.

“Go, Maybank!” The director barks from the distance. JJ doesn’t pay him any attention as he sends one last lingering stare. “Can’t wait to work with you, cutie.” He winks before turning and walking off.

You let out a breath as the director grumbles towards the blonde man, while munching on a cream filled donut. “He’s got spirit and potential but discipline is nothing.” He grimaces before turning to you.

“Come, [Name], let’s discuss the scene first.”

“Okay.”

It seems Rafe still had some stuff going on today but he made sure to wish you luck on your next job while he was busy.

‘good luck, [name]. i’ll text you soon, okay?’

‘thanks, you too! :)’

You are mid-text with Rafe when JJ’s voice pulls up from behind you. You’ve been going back and forth with him while Rafe was free at the moment, just sharing stupid jokes.

You break into a giddy smile before you turn behind you and see JJ walking up, seeing your overjoyed expression as he questions. “You ready?”

“Yeah.” You nod and set your phone aside and the blonde hums curiously. “boyfriend?” he gestures to your phone and your eyes widen, becoming flustered. “n-no, just friends.” you stutter and jj smirks in amusement. “alright, if you say so.”

unbeknownst to you, your answer made him real excited at the thought. so you weren’t taken..

Neither of you had much time to talk as the director calls for you to get situated.

And the cameras began rolling.

The scene begins with you two sitting beside each other on the couch, you playing a game while JJ watches. You were changed into a thin strapped crop top, along with some spandex. JJ wore cargo shorts and a hoodie, as this was just a casual scene, between two best friends.

The two of you were supposed to be just chilling, taking turns trying out a new game until JJ becomes distracted by your body and it leads to sex. It wasn’t as plot heavy as your last job but most of the viewers seem to just want to see the chemistry between you two.

How you’d see that with sex was a bit confusing but hey, you were just doing a job. Right?

“C’mon, [name], you’re losing~” JJ mockingly teases as he points to the screen and you huff in frustration. “i just need to focus! I got it.” You retort and pull the blanket off your legs, turning to lay flat on your stomach and closer to the screen while your legs lay in the air.

Turned away from him, JJ couldn’t help his eyes trailing down to lay on the perfect curves of your ass, the way they jiggle the tiniest bit when you swing your legs so innocently.

But what really catches his eye is the pretty plump lips of your pussy that’s accentuated due to the tight spandex. He could almost rub his finger between them.

JJ slowly began to get hard at the sight, his hand clenching into a fist as he uses it to rest against chin with his elbow on the backrest, forcing his eyes to train on the tv but they keep glancing back. His other hand palms himself through his shorts, unconsciously licking his lower lip.

“You’re losing because you’re so tense. Want me to help relief some tension?” JJ offers, turning back to the screen as your character dies once again. “Ugh, fine, maybe it’ll help.” You go to sit up but JJ keeps you done by pressing a hand on your back. “No, just relax, I can do it from here..”

JJ positions himself between your legs from behind and delicately, his hands run up the sides of your thighs before they stop right on your ass and he gives them a firm squeeze. Your eyes flutter shut for a moment before they open again and JJ begins to massage.

“That feel good, [name]?” he murmurs as he moves in a smooth consistent motion, massaging in opposite circles and watching how much they jiggle. “y-yeah..” you curse yourself for stuttering, but it genuinely felt so nice.

JJ continues for a few minutes before his fingers dig into the waistband of your spandex and tugs at it lightly. “I think I better get a better hand on it.” he leans over and kisses the back of your head lightly. “i just wanna make sure i make you super relaxed.”

“sure..” you don’t pay too much attention, it was part of the plot to be completely naive and oblivious anyways, and unconsciously lift your hips to help him slide off your bottoms. He gently pulls it from your ankles and sets aside and his hands start to proceed massaging them as before.

JJ can feel his lips growing dry at the sight of your pretty shaven pussy, desperately needing a taste but holding back, opting to lick his lips instead. But with each slow circle he kneads for you, the harder his erection grows in his pants.

“fuck it..” he murmurs and stands on his knees behind you, tucking his shorts down enough to free his cock and he leans down against you. His cock lays between your ass cheeks and like a horny dog, he can’t help himself as his hips begin to rut up against you from behind.

You gasp faintly but keep your eyes trained forward as he rubs himself against your ass, the feeling causing a faint moan to slip.

“Shh.. focus on your game, before you lose again..” he exhales against your ear as he grunts lightly, exhaling heavily with each roll of his hips.

“mmh.. J..” You sigh softly in content, dipping your head down for a minute before turning your eyes back up to focus.

“god, your body is so sexy, [name].” he groans, becoming more desperate with each passing second. He runs his hands up your sides, slipping under the hem of your top and feeling your skin beneath his touch. They reach up just enough to get firm holds of your mounds, finger pad rubbing against your bud. You exhale at the feel, biting your lip.

No longer able to focus, your hands drop the controller onto the ground with a thud, eyes fluttering shut. The action makes JJ smirk a bit before he pulls away, getting off your back.

In a swift movement, he aggressively turns your body so you switched positions, now on your back instead of your stomach as he hovers above you once more.

JJ places a hand against the soft cushion beside your head, his other hand gently grasping your throat. He looks down into your eyes, licking his lower lips slightly. His knee is pressed into the space between your thighs, effectively trapping you between him and the cushions. “[Name].. You look so fucking hot..”

Your heart pounds against your chest and it starts beating quicker, making you hitch a breath. “JJ..” Your quiet voice whimpers out, just barely audible for the mic, and he bites his lip. His eyes darken in lust and hunger and you aren’t even sure if he’s acting anymore.

What the hell did I get myself into?

“Shit.. say it again. just like that.”

The way he growls into your ear makes you blush, your cheeks warming to a soft pink as you whisper his name again. “JJ..” And as soon as you do, he dips his head onto your breasts with a low growl, feeling something in him snap. “That’s right.. the only fucking name that will slip out of your mouth.”

His hands reach down as he gets up, tucking under the thighs and squeezing them as he lifts your hips and drags you closer towards him. Your legs wrap around his waist and his hardened erection that’s leaking its precum from the tip prods at your entrance a couple times.

“Now be a good fucking girl and take this.” With that, JJ slides in without a second warning, making you gasp, inhaling sharply at the forceful entry and the next second, you’re crying out in absolute bliss.

Holy fuck.

“Ah!—“

“Oh fuck,” JJ groans lowly, head tossing back when he feels your walls closing around him. “Oh, princess, you feel even better than I thought.”

JJ seems to be relishing this feel of pure ecstasy, his hips doing deep rough thrusts, his hands lifting you by your thighs to bring him even deeper in, making you moan aloud. “Nngh- JJ- W-wait-“

The blonde doesn’t register your words, too busy bottoming out into your tightening pussy. “Shit, you need to relax princess, you’re going to make me cum if you keep that up!-“

Your walls clenches around him, JJ grunting a moan in response as he pounds into your throbbing pussy in a quicker pace, unrelenting. One hand wraps around to place a thumb over your clit and rubs it in fast circles, making you inhale shakily.

“J-, i-i’m close- please-“

JJ only grins devilishly at that as he pulls out suddenly making you gasp. “J-J?!” But instead of verbally replying, he dives down and shoves himself face first into your wet pussy. “!”

His tongue flicks at your clit before doing quick swirling licks between your folds, making you whimper. Your hand reaches down for his blonde hair while your hips buck towards his face, making him chuckle as he devours you hungrily.

I think i’m seeing stars- so this is what the director meant by his raw potential- this definitely wasn’t part of the script.

“Nngh! J, i’m gonna cum!” JJ messily continues to enjoy your soaking pussy, your juices leaking down his face but he doesn’t care, enjoying every drop of it as his fingers go up and curl into your entrance, two digits at a time.

The coil in you snaps and you squeal, bucking your hips and arching your back as you feel the intense orgasm releasing, your fluid squirting onto his face. “JJ!”

“And, cut!”

“You did so fucking well, princess.” JJ groans in satisfaction as your release soaks his face but he doesn’t care, licking you all up. Your panting to catch your breath before your eyes widen at what he was doing. Barely wiping his face, be gets back up again and pushes his cock back into you once more. You whimper at the overstimulation, attempting to push JJ to stop him but he’s too strong, instead holds both your legs together straight up while he rams into your puffy cunt.

You barely register the director calling for the scene to finish as JJ’s breathing grows heavy and ragged. “God, you’re so fucking tight still.. so fucking perfect, just f’ me.” JJ finds himself on the edge as he thrusts slows but remains just as rough. “This fucking pussy belongs to me, angel, don’t fucking forget it.”

You cry out, feeling your climax approaching for another time. “Fuck, I think i’m gonna cum..” JJ tosses his head back and with one last final thrust, the two of your moan aloud in unison, relishing in the shared intense pleasure.

JJ’s hot semen fills you up, mixing in with your own fluids as he slowly pulls out, panting as he sets your legs down.

He leans down and hovers above you, leaning down to kiss your lips desperately, and you can’t help the urge to kiss back, arms wrapping around his neck.

“Alright, cut! That’s enough, you two!” The director barks and you flinch, pulling away when you remember what you were doing.

Right, this is a job.

JJ rolls his eyes at the director before glancing down at your with a softened smile. “You alright, princess?”

“Y-yeah..” You murmur, as the blonde slowly crawls off you and some of the other workers help by cleaning you up with towels. JJ goes to help you as well but is pulled away by the director who’s occupied with chastising him.

Fuck, that was incredible..

He must’ve sensed you were staring because when you snap back to reality, JJ is grinning at you with a wink before he’s pushed away to get cleaned up.

And your phone that was left aside across the room was buzzing, ringing on silent mode, signaling you were getting a call.

‘Rafe Cameron is calling..’

a/n: so sorry for the wait! i’m recovering from a procedure and it’s rather struggling but im managing. Im gonna try to get back into writing! thanks everyone for the love and support and please look forward to more!

don’t hesitate to let me know your thoughts! my inbox is empty <3

unedited. i’m so bad at smut.

synvil™️ do not copy my work.

[mytheoristavenue]

Do you think you could do somewhere like where the straw hats + doflamingo are really tired after a hard day and reader offers their lap for them to lay on? And they end up falling asleep? Sorry if it's to much to ask, or if you've done something similar 😅 😭

I originally wasn't going to do this, because I don't really write for OP anymore, but sure! Also, Doflamingo will not be included, as I am not up to that point in the anime yet!

OP Strawhats lying on your lap!

Summary: After a long day, you offer to let them rest in your lap!

Warnings: Innuendo on some, mostly fluff, short

Monkey D. Luffy:

"Ugh, I'm so tired!" The captain groaned, wandering below deck after hours of standing very still at the help of the ship. Nami had condemned him to boredom after finding out how much money he blew on food the past week while in port and he had finally finished serving his punishment.

"You look it," You mused with a small smile. You rolled your eyes as he approached you, dramatically swaying. "Oh, c'mere then, before you fall over."

Luffy cheered, collapsing to the floor, head snuggly tucked in your lap, sighing happily. "You're the best..." He purred, already on the verge of drifting off.

Roronoa Zoro:

Zoro had been crabby all day, he was just tired and it was entirely his own fault. That meant it was everyone else's problem. He was currently ranting at Sanji for something silly when you whistled at him and called him over. "I'm not a damn dog! You can't just-" You patted your thigh invitingly. His shoulders slumped and he came over and planted his cheek against your thigh, not caring for who saw.

"You better stop staying up all night working out." You scolded lightly, raking your fingers through his short hair.

"Yeah, yeah..."

Nami:

"They're all just so dumb!" She groaned, pacing the floors. "You have no idea how hard it is being a secretary to these men." You simply nodded and listened, knowing better than to interject during a rant. "Like seriously, you don't wanna know how much Luffy spent on food while we were ported. And I don't mean for all of us, just for himself!"

Eventually, her pacing turned to standing, then sitting beside you, and finally, she found herself lying between your legs, face snuggled into your inner thigh, anger ebbing in exchange for drowsiness.

"Feel better?" You asked softly, petting her tangerine hair gently.

"I guess..."

Usopp:

You entered his workshop, shoulders slumping at the sight. He was slumped over the workbench again, cheek squished to the wooden surface. You rolled your eyes and approached him, nudging him lightly. "Usopp," You whispered so as not to startle him, though ultimately, your caution was for not.

He jumped, scrambling up into a straight sitting position. "(Y-Y/N)! Y-You can't just scare me like that!" You simply snickered and pulled him up and toward the small bed in the corner. "No, I gotta finish this project-"

"I'll let you lay in my lap." You offered with a knowing smile.

"O-Okay!" He smiled sheepishly, following you, collapsing in your lap without hesitation. The moment he stopped shifting, he began to snore again.

Vinsmoke Sanji:

You had watched him bustle around the kitchen all day, refusing any help offered to him. In the back of your mind, you knew, when Sanji crashed, he'd crash hard. As predicted, after the dinner dishes were finished, he made a beeline for you, hugging you tightly. "I'm so tired..." He mumbled into your ear, voice deep and groggy. "What would be the best way to charm you without exhausting any effort?"

"Consider me charmed." You scoffed playfully, pulling him over to the couch in the lounge before patting your thigh. The way he stared at you, you would have thought you'd just asked him to claim you right then and there. His face was red, eyes glued to your thighs. "Behave yourself." You wanted as he dropped to the floor and nuzzled between your plush thighs.

"Yes ma'am!"

Tony Tony Chopper:

It was typical of Chopper to get sleepy earlier than the rest of the crew, frequently curling up with Robin while the adults settled down to enjoy an evening activity together. This night was different only in one way.

"Ha, royal flush!" You laughed, laying your cards on the table and claiming the cash in the middle of it. You nearly yelped when you felt soft fur brush your calf. Looking down, you found the reindeer climbing up on the bench beside you and curling up in your lap.

"Awe..." You cooed on a whisper, shushing the rowdy rest. "Look at him..."

"It seems I've been replaced," Robin mused with a gentle smile. "How tragic."

Nico Robin:

It was known that on especially hard days, she would welcome you into her lap, uttering soothing words or reading silently while threading her long nails through your hair. But tonight was different. You could tell she was upset, despite her cool nature. When you'd finally convinced her to open up, you found that she was having unpleasent dreams involving her past.

"Can't get anything past you, can I?" She laughed sadly, before her brows shot up in surprise as you patted your lap.

"I know I'm probably not as good at this as you are..." You muttered sheepishly. "But..."

To your delight, she laid down, face up in your lap, and allowed you to play with her hair while she read quietly to herself. "You couldn't be more wrong, this is perfect." She sighed blissfully.

Cyborg Franky:

Franky had been in an awfully sour mood lately, totally uncharacteristic of him. After witnessing him get into a small argument with Usopp over a new ship upgrade thew were collaborating on, you knew you had to have a word with him. "Franky, what's your deal lately?" You huffed, hands on your hips.

"No deal," He scoffed, turning away. "What's it to ya?"

"You're acting like Zoro when he misses a nap." Your eyes narrowed sternly. He sighed.

"I ain't been sleepin' well, okay?" He finally admitted sheepishly. You softened, smiling slightly.

"Why didn't you just say so?" You climbed up on a large crate of ale, sitting at the perfect height, patting your lap. "Come take a nap, you'll feel better."

"N-Nah, I'll be good," He shook his head, cheeks a bit pink. After a bit more convincing, he finally sat on the floor, back against the crate, and rested his head in your lap as you brushed the cyan locks from his eyes and removed his shades. "You were right, this is nice..."

Brook:

The ship was eerily quiet today and for the life of you, you couldn't figure out why. Suddenly, it hit you. You hadn't seen or heard Brook all day long. After asking around, you found him in the lounge, staring at the fish. "Brook, you okay?" You asked softly, tilting your head into his view.

"Oh, yes, my dear. Just in thought." He sighed, empty sockets seemingly tracking the tropical fish as they wandered the glass enclosure. "The only I get, the younger my old friends seem." He admitted quietly and your eyes softened.

You weren't entirely sure how long had passed as you sat there with him, watching the fish interact with one another, or when you'd begun to lean into one another. "Brook?" You asked softly, eyes never looking away from the tank. "I can't do much to help but...would you like to lay in my lap?"

"I'd like that very much, my dear." He replied, patiently waiting for you to get into a comfortable position before laying out his lanky form on the sofa between your thighs. "This helps so much more than you know." The pair of you stayed that way for a while until you began to feel skeletal phalanges lightly digging into the meat of your legs. "You know, since you're in such a giving mood..."

"You're done." You deadpanned, pushing him away.

Jinbe:

You had never had much experience with Jinbe, having only known him for a short while, be he seemed to always know when the emotional atmosphere around him had changed. Thanks to this empathy, he noticed immediately when you'd woken up on the wrong side of the bed. "(Y/N)? What's the matter?" He asked, cocking a brow as you stepped below deck.

"Just in a mood..." You grumbled, coldly brushing him off. Ever patient, he simply gave you a warm smile and let you be. As the day wore on, you both found yourself winding down in the lounge. You grumpy day catching up with you, you dozed off, cheek pressed to his shoulder. Smiling fondly, Jinbe repositioned you, delicately resting your head in his lap, large webbed hand very carefully brushing the fringe from your eyes.

[skachacharealsmooth]

coming on main to say this just bcs i talk more abt sth over here but my ideal sonadow dynamic is soooo situationship coded. sonic will knock on shadow’s door at like 3 am sopping wet scrapes all over his body taco bell in hand stupid smile and shadow will just be like ughhhh fine whatever invite yourself in. they spend a few weeks together in domestic bliss or whatever until shadow notices that sonic’s leg is extra bouncy and his eyes are darting today at breakfast which means he’s gonna leave in the middle of the night off to chaos knows where.

shadow’s version of crashing and leaving is stepping in on sonic’s heroic endeavors but only when the situation is extreme enough to use his Top Secret Government Job as a reason. shadow isn’t using his occupation as an excuse, more so a valid reason to warrant rubbing elbows w sonic and co….and what follows is the most awkward bizarre palpable tension that you can cut through with a knife. like condolences to anyone that is within a 10 mile blast radius of them. when they’re parting ways sonic always says something so out of pocket in love goo goo eyes and shadow will think about it for the next five months nonstop. sonic then shows up on his doorstep and the cycle continues. actually let me expand on why this happens down below

shadow will not tell sonic that he genuinely has feelings for him for a multitude of reasons but the main sparksnotes overarching reason why changes over time. when they’re younger shadow is under the impression that sonic simply can’t be in a long term romantic relationship because he’s incapable. this type of engagement is just his speed and suits his lifestyle perfectly. as they get older, shadow’s opinion slightly shifts in favor of the idea that sonic would never settle down because his appetite to experience everything the world has to offer is greater than his desire to have and maintain in a romantic sense. getting serious is something he doesn’t want turns into getting serious is something he genuinely can’t bring himself to do.

on the other hand, sonic will not tell shadow that he has feelings for him and his reasoning stays the same. and it’s arguably more stupid. sonic is convinced that shadow just isn’t that serious about him. like every time he creeps out of the door in the middle of the night he secretly wishes that shadow will catch him and beg him to stay in this giant confession of love but that would never happen because coming and going is sonic’s thing and who shadow sees in between their meetings is none of his business. if he was that serious then he would confess. when they’re younger sonic fantasizes the doorway scene ending as let me come with you. as they get older, it turns into stay.

[apenitentialprayer]

It's no longer a "private definition" of a word when millions of people are doing it, and maybe you should try to understand why they do it instead of dismissing it as "emotional." Snarky non-diaspora comment aside: OP, I'm going to recommend an alternative way of expressing the phenomenon you're describing: have you considered just using German-American? Because ethnicity is one of those slippery concepts that is kind of hard to define, and more goes into it than a simple biological descent. Like, I ID as ethnically Irish-American. I don't speak Irish, I have never been to Ireland, I could tell you the counties but not the towns my particular people are from. My family maintains some Irish-isms the way that your town seems to have maintained German-isms, but I am otherwise divorced from the Irish social, cultural, and political context. There is very little tying me to Ireland, and the Ireland of a hundred years ago that my people came from simply doesn't exist anymore. But I am part of a group with similar experiences, a group that is flourishing in the United States and is actually composed of over four times as many people as there people are in Ireland: people of Irish descent that settled here. People who often share a past in a specifically American context, a narrative that binds many of us in common, a story that people of Irish descent have been contributing to since they landed here. Irish-Americans, an ethnic group descended from the Irish but coming to their own in a totally different social context. The name is not a perfect solution; an Irish citizen who moves here and acquires American citizenship might self-identify as Irish-American, but is clearly not part of the same social reality that I am currently talking about. But words very rarely perfectly capture a phenomenon. But maybe identifying as German among those who get what you mean, and as German-American when speaking to people outside the country, may be the way to go.

"yOuR nOt GeRmAn, yOur AmErIcAn"

Okay, bestie, let me explain something to you that is very important to American culture — very, very few of us are ethnically American. When an American says they are "German" or "Irish" or "Italian" they aren't talking about citizenship. They are talking about ethnicity.

The U.S. is primarily a country of immigrants. Everyone says we "don't have a culture" or we have a "bastardized version of *insert culture*" but that's not true!!!! Our culture is made up of American Immigrant Culture!!!! American Italian food isn't "fake Italian food" — it's the innovation of Italian Immigrants who used traditional Italian food along with the ingredients that were more accessible to them in the States. It might not be the food "of Italy" but it is the food of proud sons and daughters of Italy who are also proud Americans. And you can be both.

When American culture is treated as a rip-off of every other culture, we are essentially dishonoring the memory of very brave men and women who chose to leave their homelands under unfortunate circumstances. Men and women who didn't have much money, but did what they could. Used the materials they had. And still managed to make something beautiful out of it. When you leave your home, it doesn't stop being part of your identity — it just looks a little different now. You pass on your old traditions to your children and your children's children, and along the way, new ones are created. Cultures mix and create subcultures. And it's beautiful. It's good. It's primally human.

If I'm not "German" care to explain to me my pasty white skin? Or my last name? Or all the post cards written to and from Germany that we have upstairs in a box? Or the name of my town? Or my grandparents' first language? Or the fact that my American Church, in the year 2024, still sings "Stille Nacht" at every Christmas Eve mass? Sure, I'm not fully German, but the awareness of where I have come from makes up a huge part of my understanding of myself and my place in this world. I was raised in a German Catholic farmtown, and it shows. It shows in the way we worship, and our work ethic, and our reverence for family life.

When an American calls themselves "German" or "Irish" or "Italian" they mean that's where their blood comes from. And it's okay for them to care about that. It's okay for them to care about their roots. It's a major part of American culture.

If you want to "respect" world cultures, you can't just pick and choose which ones are "real" according to you.