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mycartoonmonster · 4 months ago

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With the context of the Book of Bill and the characterisation of Bill, I ended up finding that all the members of the Zodiac have a thing or two in common with Bill Cipher.

Six fingered hand-Stanford Pines

-Both have a genetic mutation which they got ostracized for but made them interested in the worlds beyond.

- Both are egocentric and smart.

-Both have a thirst for revenge to prove the people around them they were wrong about them.

-Both didn't mean to endanger their dimension (Ford wanted knowledge and Bill wanted to show them the stars)

-Animals aren't safe around them (Ford set a bird on fire by mistaking it as a Phoenix and Bill ripped out a deer's teeth in his debut and in the storyboards of Weirdmageddon P1 he uses a deer to forcibly kiss Ford's statue as if they were his Barbie and Ken)

-Both have a weird sense of humor

-Both are considered criminals in the multiverse (Theft in Ford's case and Manslaughther, Murder alongside other stuff like mass property destruction in Bill's case)

-Both project onto others they see as similar to themselves (Bill with Ford-and on a minor scale Pacifica-and Ford with Dipper)

-Both ended up getting tricked by a conman (Ford by Bill and Bill by Stanley)

-Both are authors! (The Journals and the Book Of Bill, which are essentially diaries that talked about what their lives were, a bit about themselves and the creatures they found through their life)

Crescent symbol/Fish-Stanley Pines

-Both are scammers

-Both share mannerisms, one of them being referring to Ford as Sixer(which led to people theorizing Stan was Bill's reincarnation)

-Bad relationship with their parents but seem closer with their mom (Bill's parents tried to make him blind to the 3rd dimension but it seems Bill genuinely loved his mama Scalene while Fildbrick didn't value Stan as much as Ford and Caryn was the only one worried about Stanley and was one of the 2 persons that assisted his fake funeral)

-Both were seen as a bad kid growing up (Bill by the people on his dimension due to his mutation and the habilities this granted him while Stan was seen as lesser than Ford due to the latter's gigantic IQ and his rebellious nature)

-Both made one mistake that heavily affected the course of their lives and can never return home because of it (Stan ruining Ford´s project and Bill setting his home ablaze)

-Both didn't mean to push Ford away from them nor put their families in any danger initially(Bill wanted Ford to continue with the portal and got sad after their fallout and Stan did what he did in a moment where he wasnt thinking rationally and it cost him 30 years of loneliness and guilt)

-Both went to jail on different occassions (Stan on Colombia and Bill after going on a rampage in the bar while drunk after the fallout with Ford and the Theraprism if you wanna add it)

-Both tend show only 1 eye to people as well as a cane (Bill only has 1-although he can shapeshift and have multiples as seen in his demon form- and he uses the cane mostly in Dreamscappers, a bit in Sock Opera and in the intro for Weirdmageddon while Stan uses a patch and an 8 ball cane for tourists during his mystery man persona)

-Both used their art to influence people (Stan with the Mystery Shack's attractions and Bill using animation and figurines which failed, unlike Stan's works, unless you count the Lil' Stanley comic)

-Both have used a red demon costume once (Bill in the book and Stan in a picture in Gideon Rises)

-Both wanted to set the journals on fire (with Bill actually doing it in Weirdmageddon Part 1)

-They find Dipper's disstress/fear and annoyance hilarious (Stan teasing him vs Bill terrorizing him)

Glasses-Fiddleford McGucket

-Both end up going insane after a traumatic event (The destruction of his home dimension in Bill's case and McGucket taking a peek into Bill eating his own exoskeleton after crossing the portal)

-The times they helped/aided people it ended bad for them (In McGucket's case, Dipper with his new voice and the Gideon Bot that ended up getting destroyed in the scuffle with Dipper and in Bill's case; Dipper became Bill's puppet and Gideon didn't get the Shack's signature hence he had to use dynamite as a plan B and Weirdmaggedon only lasted 4-5 days for the Henchmaniacs while in McGuckets case's Shacktron didn't survive against Bill as they didn't consider protecting the arms and legs the same way that the Shack was protected)

-Both played a part in the creation of secret societies (Fiddleford by creating The Societyvof the Blind Eye and Bill by the Ciphertologists and inderectly creating the Anti-Bill Cipher society by terrorizing 4 persons)

-Underneath all that insanity and very deep in that broken mind, there is one very smart broken guy.

-Both lost their families (At least Fiddleford could reconciliate with some of it but Bill doesn´t have the same chance anymore)

Bag of ice-Wendy Courdory

-Both are rebellious and dislike authority figures.

-They like to do what they want with no regard for rules

-Both abused their power on more than one occasion (Wendy by stealing snacks and throwing water balloons at the elderly when working at the pool and Bill throughout his deals and in Weirdmageddon)

-They've had guts to face powerfull creatures (Bill the Time Baby and Wendy stuff like the ShapeShifter, the Unicorns or the Eye Bats in Weirdmageddon)

-Both lost a mom when they were young.

Questioning Mark-Soos Ramírez

-Both are smarter than what they look like upon first sight.

-Both lack a dad (Bill's died while Soos's left him)

-They have a funny side to them (Bill more leaning to sadism though)

-Both had their eyes damaged by Mabel (Soos by getting attacked with glitter in Stan Is Not What He Seems and Bill by getting sprayed with graffiti paint in Weirdmageddon Part 3)

Stiched heart-Robbie Valentino

-Both had their relationships ruined by their own arrogance, negligence and dishonesty (Bill being an abusive partner while Robbie was immature).

-They did not take the fallout with their partner well (at least Robbie would never dare to do anything similar to what Bill did)

-They tried to pursue their partner after the break up but to no avail (Bill with threaths and later on with offers of power and Robbie by using music as seen in Gideon Rises and both actually using messanges-Bill wasting Ford's Post-it notes and Robbie sad emails and texts to Wendy)

-Both are good with music (Bill can play the piano and xylophone as seen in his apology video and Robbie can play the guitar and both can sing)

-Both insulted Soos or referred to him in condescending ways (Robbie called him Big Dude and Bill adressed him as "the fat one")

-Both had beef with a 12 year old and wanted to harm them (Robbie wanted to fist fight a child aka Dipper and Bill planned to commit suicide in Dipper's body, turn the mystery twins into corpses, disassamble their molecules and almost kills Mabel in the series finale)

'Both got turned to stone at one point in Weirdmageddon (Robbie when it started and Bill at the end of it)

One eyed Pentagram-Gideon Gleeful

-Having too much power that they acquired at a young age which heavily affected them and began their rise to villainy

-Both have a hatred towards Stanley Pines for meddling with their plans to obtain absolute power and ultimatetly ruining their plans which ended with them in prison.

-Both burnt a picture of the object of their affections; destroying the section with the rest of their family and leaving their faces untouched.

-Both planned to use Mabel and Dipper to get one of the original mystery twins to give them what they wanted

-Both left the Pines Twin they were interested on imprisoned during Weirdmageddon.

-Both deep down craved adoration and attention.

-Both lead a gang of criminals but dont treat them with a much respect as the one Pines Twin they are pining on while hating the other twins for thinking they turned them away from them when in reality it was their actions that did.

-Both got punched in the face by a Pines Twin in a season Finale inside someone´s head (Gideon Bot's and Stanley's)

-Both seem to care about their appearance (Gideon worrying about his hair the most and Bill about his bowtie, given the scream he lets out when Dipper blasts him and him readjusting it a couple of times during Weirdmageddon)

-Both ended up in prison after acquiring a position of absolute power where they do art therapy

-Both are snappy dressers and use their charm to trick people

Llama-Pacifica Northwest

-Both had messy childhoods that turned them into who they are now.

-Both are pretty good liars and can trick people very easily (Bill with his deals and Pacifica in the Lost Legends comic)

-Both look down on people they see as inferior to them(Bill with humans and Pacifica with the working class, hillbillies and the Pines before the events of The mystery of the Northwest mansion and Weirdmageddon)

-Both see themselves as monsters that cause havoc no matter where they go or what they do (Pacifica in dreams and Bill due to what he did in his home)

-Both were forced by their parents to act in a certain way (Bill´s at least loved him and were good intentioned)

-Both are fighters (Pacifica by defying her parents wishes, facing against the ghost and the face stealer in Lost Legends and refusing Bill's deal in her dream and Bill could stand a fight with Shacktron which he ended up defeating and in his book its implied he can fight easily against demons or ghosts)

-Both have wore a crown (Pacifica in her debut episode and Bill in his portrait in the Penthouse suite of the Fearamid)

Shooting Star-Mabel Pines

-Both are agents of Chaos (Mabel being Chaotic Good/Neutral and Bill Chaotic Evil).

-Both enjoy partying and to have fun.

-Both have a wild imagination and a sense of style.

-Both like karaoke and have had a karaoke night with one of the original mystery twins

-Both have eaten stuff normal people shouldn't eat/gross things(Bill his exoskeleton and illegal punch and Mabel getting wasted with Smile Dip, a leaf, huge amounts of sugar that would end with her sick, Mabel juice and she once got hospitalized by eating sniff and scratch stickers)

-Both like makeovers (as seen in a part of the book of Bill where he talks about hiding the blood of his past)

-Both think highly of themselves (Bill's bottomless ego vs Mabel being secure about her talents, qualities and appearance)

-Both have social skills that made others attracted to them, mostly loners or freaks (Bill with his Henchmaniacs for their shared love of chaos and Ford with his smarts and cosmical knowledge and Mabel with Candy and Greta by being weirdos and not being as popular as Pacifica and her posse)

-Both adress Ford as "Fordsy"

-Both have rolled in the grass in Gravity Falls(Bill while possesing Ford during puppet hour and Mabel in Tourist Trapped)

-Both put their wants over other people's and/or their needs (Like in Sock Opera but even if Mabel is sometimes selfish at least apologizes and learns from her mistakes while Bill doesn't care who he hurts and would never apologize)

-Both use white out to exclude certain stuff they dont like from reading material to "fix it" or crayons/markers to cross them (Mabel with the dialog in the Comix Up story in Lost Legends or certain things such as her summer romances and in the Mabel´s guide to color with the picture and Bill with a section where part of The Great Gatsby is shown on his book where he mentions assigned reading or stuff like his exes and his former friend The Oracle/Seven eyes)

-Both became gods of destruction, first time by accident and the second with full intention(Mabel by accident with the rift and ending with MabelLand and Bill with the accidental destruction of his home and with Weirdmageddon)

-You could argue they're awfull when it comes to romance (Mabel's attempts always end in failure and Bill fumbled Ford so so hard)

Pine Tree-Dipper Mason Pines

-Both are good at decoding codes and solving mysteries and have good academic skills.

-Both didn't have many friends growing up and were picked on as kids (Bill for his mutation and Dipper for his birthmark)

-The times they wanted to prove themselves to others ended badly for them (Dipper caused a zombie apocalypse and Bill destroyed his dimension by accident)

-The names they use aren't their real names (Bill confirmed in an AMA years ago that Bill Cipher is just a name he picked so humans could converse with him without going bonkers upon first contact and Dipper's name is actually Mason but everyone refers to him as Dipper due to his birthmark)

-Has cloned himself (Bill's are a natural hability for him while Dipper made copies of himself via paper-rest in piece Tyrone)

-Both were adorable as babies.

-Both got obsessed with someone to the point of messing with their personal lifes (Dipper with Wendy during her relationship with Robbie and Bill with Ford and his relationship with McGucket)

-They changed hats at different points in their life; Dipper in Tourist Trapped changes from his green hat with a five point star to the classic blue pine tree while Bill sported a multicolor hat as a kid before changing into a tophat (if we take the theory that Bill's hat was originally his father's then both Dipper's and Bill's were owned by a family member before being passed on to them, Dipper's belonging to Stan)

I know this is probably just a coincidence (save the stuff with Ford as some were meant to highlight the bond these two had and establish parallels between the two, making them doomed soulmates and adding another layer of sadness over the toxic yaoi) but a fun one still.

Thanks for reading!

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cupidlovesastro · 5 months ago

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𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐲 𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 #𝟏𝟓 (𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐞 𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧)

earth sun, moon, venus, or dominant people can have a love for nature as a whole, the animals, the plants, the sky, etc

water sun, moon venus, or dominant people have an attraction to lakes, rivers, oceans, ponds, rain, etc. they may even have a love for sea animals

fire sun, moon, venus, or dominant’s love the sun, summer time, drier weather, lava, campfires, etc

air sun, moon, venus, or dominant’s love the air, the sky, clouds, the stars, space, birds, butterflies, moths, etc

sagittarius in big 6 or stellium individuals are very free spirited and love being adventurous. they are very open minded and try to hear all perspectives

aquarius in big 6 or stellium people have a need for freedom and independence. they don’t like being tied down or held back

inner planets in the 6th house or 6h stelliums can have a love for animals and living creatures in general

uranus in the 1h means you are openly rebellious and go against the societal stereotypes. you question the rules and push boundaries while also being humanitarians

taurus in 2h can shows that you value the physical things in life. taurus is also an earth sign, meaning you enjoy the feelings of grass, the sound of the water, the smell of flower, etc

venus in 2h means that you value music, love, peace, and harmony

venus in 11h can show that you enjoy being around groups of people who share a love for the desire of peace, love, and music

uranus in 9h means that you go against the culture, the worlds views, and beliefs

aquarius moons/ uranus aspecting moon people find comfort through the rebellion and change

aquarius mars/ uranus aspecting mars people have a deep passion for change, especially when it comes to betterment of society. they are willing to take the risk if it means creating a difference

𝐰𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐜𝐤

8h stellium- lots of sexual activity happening, people feeling deeply connected, dark things happening

8h sun- one of the thing that woodstock is notoriously known for at its core, is the amount of people engaging in sexual activities

uranus is 9h- going against social norms, the law, religions, the american culture at that time

mars in 11h- groups of people being aggressive, sexual, violent. also passion about their hopes, dreams, wishes, and the future

neptune in 11h- idealizing the idea of people being all together and groups of people being delusional and easily impressionable

pluto in 8h- lots of karmic energy, people wanting sexual power fama conjunct eros- famous for sexual activity

jupiter conjunct uranus- large amounts of rebellion, lots of unpredictable behavior/events, growth through change

mercury sextile venus- communicating love, peace, and harmony instead of war

makemake conjunct sun- woodstock was made to make a change to the idea of war and violence and was known as an attempt to protect the environment and idea of peace

vesta conjunct venus- love, music, harmony, was what kept people going during woodstock. they were devoted to their beliefs of peace

fama conjunct venus- famous for being about music, love, peace, harmony, etc

makemake opposite karma- although wood stock was an attempt to restore and maintain peace. it took a turn for the worse and lead to many horrible incidents

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cyanide-e-pistachio · 9 days ago

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Shuake Fics from 2024 that Give Bonafide ✨SHUAKE CLASSICS ENERGY✨🙏🏻

I've been seeing the frankly untrue sentiment that there are "no good Shuake fics out there right now". The purpose of this post is to not only provide evidence against that sentiment, but uplift fics from this year that, in my opinion, are just as good as any of the Shuake classic fics we might find at the top of AO3.

DISCLAIMER: I have not read every shuake fic in 2024, nor did I suggest fics that are currently ongoing (with one exception). If you feel like I missed a Bonafide Shuake Classic(tm) from this year, FEEL FREE to rb with your suggestion!!! This is all about uplifting the wonderful authors in the shuake community who deserve more love!!!!! xoxo

Rebellious Birds by @sixteen-juniper

A post-canon fic where Akiren and Akechi explore a new and deadly Mementos, and an encounter gone wrong forces the tension between them to the surface. I have always loved this author's writing style. Their prose and technique is 10/10.

crowded rooms and highways i call home by sailboating

Rahhhhhh I just finished this one so it is extremely on my mind but holy shit!!! What a classic!!! A early 2000s Band AU in which Akiren and Akechi discover their ship tag on Livejournal. Full of fun LJ references and callbacks to the fandom scene of the time. It was such a fun ride with incredibly engaging prose from the author.

true blue by campanellaes

Listen man, campanellaes is one of those authors where every work of theirs is gonna be a banger. True blue is no different. A very unique post-canon story where Akiren and Akechi are in the Shadow Ops together and we watch as their relationship slowly develops. If you're looking for a sweet yet hilariously chaotic shuake dynamic this is the one for you.

finger twist & split by nexxis

Oh my god NEXXIS is on a roll this year and this is not the last time you'll see this author on the list. Essentially Akiren jokingly mentions to Akechi that he'll finger him and Akechi devolves into gay panic for 6,000+ words. It's so incredibly delightful, hot, and full of fun introspection that I just adore.

Closed For Renovation by @chaoticconstellation

My god, what a wholesome fic AAHHHHH ok ok so basically it's a found family fic in which Sojiro and Akechi scheme with his friends to renovate Akiren's attic bedroom. It's incredibly sweet and just downright adorable at times. Definitely the Feel Good Fic of the Year(tm) for me.

A first spring with you by @manibarilo

A post-canon reunion longfic that just OOZES Shuake Classic energy. Five years after P5R, Akiren and Akechi reunite after Akechi is released from prison. Lots of fluff, wholesomeness, and healing ensue.

we apologize for our streamer by sailboating

This author is truly the master at writing engaging Shuake fics. A Twitch streamer AU in which a glitch streamer Akiren finds a chess streamer with zero viewers and simps. Hard lol. A great ride from start to finish, and despite being 35,000+ words it feels like it ends too quickly!

sweetness by nexxis

Another banger from nexxis. An ABO fic in which Akiren accidentally discovers Akechi is an omega. I just love the way their dynamic is written here, and it's also incredibly :fire: :fire: :fire:

But Live Another Day by @tomiokajen

This is the one exception to the completed fic rule because I've beta'ed it lol. However I think it deserves to be on this list as, much like a first spring, it oozes Shuake classic energy. A post-canon reunion fic that explores Akechi as a wildcard. The way Akechi is characterized in this fic is masterclass, and truly shows that the author has a very good understanding of him. I also love the OC links in this fic. Has classic energy through and though and I can't recommend it enough.

Old Habits Die Loved by @malevolentmango

Technically written in 2023 but I read it in 2024. I love fics where Akiren is in need and Akechi has to step up to help him, and this one does that in spades. An established relationship fic in which Akechi has to do some Scooby-doo style detective work to figure out what's been going on with Akiren. Lots of delicious hurt/comfort involved.

Valerie by bisexualbluesargent

Listen guys I KNOW this was technically posted in 2023 but this was literally posted A DAY before January 1st 2024 so I'll give it to them. A protagonist Palace Fic AU that SCREAMS classic Shuake Fic energy. Honestly I won't say much more than that because half the fun of this fic is piecing together the story, so please give it a read!

Alright, that's all I have for now! Again, if I missed anything please feel free to contribute! Have a lovely day! 💚

#shuake #akeshu #persona 5 royal #akira kusuru #goro akechi #persona 5 #fanfic #fic rec #text post

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slytherinslut0 · 1 year ago

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MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

Chapter Seventeen-Info: You and Mattheo have been butting heads for months, since you were assigned as his tutor, and one day during a session full of tense bickering, he has enough.

(This will essentially be a toxic book where we are Theos fucktoy. No love here, very minimal fluff.)

Tags: 18+, DARK THEMES, Sexual Harassment, Asshole!Berkshire, Extreme Depictions of Violence, Blood, SMUT, PIV, Virgin!Reader, Loss of Virginity, Dom!Mattheo, Sub!Reader, Oral Sex, Multiple Orgasm, Dirty Talk, Praise Kink, Degradation Kink.

****FIND THE REST OF THE CHAPTERS HERE.

Emerging from the closet, you and Mattheo shared one more fleetingly charged moment, your eyes locking in a silent exchange laden with unspoken emotions. With a subtle nod, you both returned to your seats, seamlessly slipping back into the roles you had mastered--the poised Ravenclaw and the bad, rebellious Slytherin. The transition was flawless, but beneath the composed exteriors, a storm of emotions raged.

As the game progressed and the night drew on, your eyes locked with Mattheo's from across the circle more times than you could even begin to count--and as the rest of the room remained blissfully unaware, you were acutely attuned to the dance of hidden desires, an intimate connection that thrived in the shadows.

The game of truth or dare continued, growing more wild with each passing round, until most people involved became to tired to continue. In the midst of all of this, Emily and Tom seemed to hit it off, engrossed in their own conversation which seemed to have started before you had even returned from the closet with Mattheo--and as much as the sight was slightly confusing, you were profoundly grateful for the unexpected friendship between them. It undoubtedly relieved the pressure of having to engage with Tom.

As the night wore on, exhaustion settled deep within your bones. Berkshire, thoroughly intoxicated, was gently escorted to his dormitory by Malfoy, his usual disgusting arrogance now replaced by a drunken stumble. Despite the lingering adrenaline from the evening's events, weariness tugged at your limbs, pulling you towards the comfort of your dormitory.

While Emily and Tom remained engrossed in their conversation, you seized the opportunity to excuse yourself quietly. With polite smiles and casual goodnights, you bid farewell to the remaining members of the circle. Each step you took felt heavier than the last, your energy waning with every movement. The echoes of laughter and conversation faded into the distance as you navigated the familiar corridors, the subdued glow of torchlight guiding your way.

Taking a moment to escape the confines of the castle, you stepped into the tranquil courtyard, leaning against the railing and seeking solace under the vast expanse of stars. The night air embraced you, carrying with it a soothing whisper of tranquility. Breathing in deeply, you let the cool breeze wash over you, attempting to shed the lingering tension from your bones after the intense evening you had just endured.

And in the midst of your attempts to find serenity, the peaceful atmosphere shattered like fragile glass, stumbling footsteps making their way toward you. As you glanced over, you watched an inebriated Berkshire stumble his way into the courtyard, bringing himself dangerously close to you, his usual arrogance magnified by the influence of alcohol. His eyes, glazed and unfocused, fixated on you with a disturbing intensity.

"Shit...what do we have here?" he slurred, his words laced with drunken confidence. "A little bird all alone in the night...don't you know it's fuckin' dangerous to be out here all by yourself?"

Your disgust was palpable as you shot him a withering glare. "Save your pathetic lines for someone who cares, Berkshire," you retorted, your voice dripping with disdain. "The only thing dangerous is my dwindling patience at the mere sight of you."

"Why're you such a bitch, huh?" he slurred, his words carrying the stench of alcohol. His proximity was uncomfortably close, his breath hot against your skin. "Must be 'cause you secretly like me, right?"

Your jaw clenched, a mixture of annoyance and disgust bubbling within you. His words were as repugnant as his alcohol-laden breath. The tension you had been trying to relieve was now replaced by a different kind, a sharp pang of frustration at having to deal with his inappropriate behavior.

"I suggest you find your way back to your dorm," you retorted, your voice firm despite the rising irritation. "Your delusions won't make your company any more welcome."

Berkshire's drunken persistence grated on your nerves like nails on a chalkboard, his obnoxious confidence seeming to inflate with every word you uttered. Before you could process it, he closed the distance between you, his movements erratic, invading your personal space. His clammy hand shot up, gripping your jaw with a force that made your teeth clench, forcing your eyes to meet his in a cruel display of dominance.

"Why won't you just admit it, huh?" he slurred, his words punctuated by the reek of alcohol on his breath. His bloodshot eyes bored into yours, his arrogance seemingly impervious to your clear discomfort. "You can't deny the attraction, sweetheart...I see it in the way you look at me when you think no one's watching."

Your patience snapped like a taut rope. Anger flared in your chest, hot and searing. With a swift movement, you pushed his hand away from your face, your voice cutting through the night with icy precision, a steely resolve in your voice that should have been enough to ward off any sane person.

"Let me make this abundantly clear, Berkshire," you said, your tone as sharp as a blade. "There is no secret admiration, no desire, and certainly no fucking attraction. You're nothing more than a nuisance, and I have no patience for your delusions. Now, back the fuck off before you regret testing my tolerance any further."

Despite your unwavering stance, Berkshire's drunken laughter reverberated through the courtyard, a disturbing echo of arrogance undeterred by your resistance. He jeered, taking another step toward you, his movements unsteady but determined. The cold, unforgiving metal of the railing you had been standing in front of pressed into your back as he cornered you, his breath reeking of alcohol and menace.

Panic clawed at your throat, but you refused to show weakness, your eyes meeting his with a defiant glare. "Berkshire, what are you-"

Ignoring your words, he advanced further, backing you up against the railing until there was nowhere left to retreat. Your heart thundered in your chest, the weight of his aggression bearing down on you. And then, in a moment of terror, he grabbed you, his grip surprisingly strong, squeezing tighter than you had ever expected. Your breath caught in your throat as his fingers dug into your arms, pain flaring through your limbs. The situation had escalated far beyond your control, and the realization struck you like a physical blow.

"Let me go," you demanded, your voice strained but resolute, despite the fear tightening your throat. But Berkshire only tightened his grip, his fingers digging into your skin, his drunken gaze wild and unpredictable. "Enzo, fuck, stop..."

"Shut the fuck up," he growled, he breath grazing over your neck as he pressed himself against you. "You're such a fucking-"

Before Berkshire could finish that sentence, a familiar voice--one usually somewhat smooth and composed, cut through the air with a terrifying intensity.

"Berkshire…if you don't get your fucking hands off of her," the threat in his tone was unmistakable, a promise of unspeakable consequences if ignored. "I fucking swear-"

But Berkshire, lost in his drunken rage, remained heedless, his eyes glazed over with a dangerous mixture of anger and entitlement. “Shut up, Riddle…she fucking wants me…”

You caught Mattheo's eyes from over Enzo's shoulder, ones that once held a glimmer of restraint now blazed with an uncontrollable anger that seemed to ignite the air around him. His usual composure shattered, replaced by a raw, primal fury.

In a heartbeat, Mattheo closed the distance between him and Berkshire, his movements fluid and almost supernatural. His hand shot out like a striking serpent, fingers wrapping around Berkshire's throat like an unyielding vice. The grip was tight, a clear message of the danger Berkshire was in.

“I warned you,” he hissed, and with a swift, powerful motion, Mattheo ripped Berkshire off of you, sending him crashing onto the unforgiving stone ground, a stunned gasp escaping his lips upon impact--Mattheo’s throat was shredded with anger as he growled, “I fucking warned you…”

You stood frozen, your lungs burning as you desperately gasped for air, your vision swimming with a heady mix of fear and relief. Mattheo, his eyes ablaze with fury, descended upon Berkshire like a vengeful deity. His arm darted out, fingers clenching Berkshire's collar in one hand while the other transformed into a merciless fist.

“Stay the fuck away from her…you don’t fucking look at her, you don’t even fucking breathe near her…do you fucking understand me?” Mattheo didn’t wait for a response, the first punch landing with a sickening crack, the sound reverberating through the courtyard like a thunderclap. Mattheo jostled Enzo in his grip, practically spitting his words against his face. “No one gets to fucking touch her…no one except me…fucking no one…”

A momentary pause hung in the air, a fleeting heartbeat of stillness, before Mattheo struck again. And again. And again. He was possessed, every punch a release of the pent-up rage that had been simmering beneath the surface, each blow fueled by a primal instinct to protect, to defend, to punish the one who dared to harm you.

Berkshire's face transformed into a grotesque mask of crimson, his features distorted by pain and fear. The courtyard seemed to pulse with the rhythm of Mattheo's anger, the sound of his blows drowned out by the rapid thudding of your heart--and it wasn't until Draco Malfoy, his normally composed demeanor replaced by wide-eyed shock, entered the fray, that Mattheo's onslaught finally came to a halt.

Malfoy, his strength surprising for someone so slender, managed to pull Mattheo off Berkshire, the latter struggling like a wild animal, his rage still burning brightly, his chest heaving with exasperated fury.

"What the fuck happened here?" Theodore dropped to his knees next to his fallen friend, a mixture of concern and disbelief etched on his features as he met your stunned eyes. "Are you okay?"

"I..." you stammered, your voice barely audible, your mind struggling to comprehend the violence that had just unfolded before you. The shock had rendered you speechless, your throat dry and constricted, words caught in the whirlwind of your emotions. "Yes...I'm okay..."

While you attempted to spit out words, Mattheo's heaving form, still seething with raw anger, ripped himself free from Malfoy's hold. With a voice that carried the weight of his fury, he spoke on your behalf, the words sharp and cutting through the air.

"Berkshire thought he could lay his fucking hands on her is what happened," his voice was cold, each word laced with contempt. "After I warned him...I warned him how many fucking times..."

Mattheo's aura, once magnetic and enticing, was now a tempest, an embodiment of wrath that crackled in the air around him. The atmosphere seemed to vibrate with his intensity, as if the very stones beneath your feet could feel his fury. It was a chilling reminder, mostly to you, that beneath the composed facade, there was a force to be reckoned with, a protector who would stop at nothing to shield you from harm--and that thought did inexplicable, disgustingly shameless things to your fucking body.

Draco Malfoy, his usual cool composure momentarily shaken, stepped away from Mattheo, his eyes assessing the situation with a discerning gaze.

"Let's get him to the hospital wing," he suggested to Theodore, his voice cutting through the tension. Nott, too, recognized the need for immediate action, nodding in agreement, before briefly meeting your eyes. "I'm sorry about him...there's no way he hasn't learned his lesson now...fuckin' sorry little prat..."

You nodded in response as the two of them lifted Berkshire, supporting his battered form between them. As they glanced between you and Mattheo, it was as though a silent understanding passed between Draco and Nott. Their glances met, a knowing look shared, acknowledging that there was something more beneath the surface of this situation. They sensed the unspoken connection, the invisible thread that bound you and Mattheo together, but they chose not to pry. Instead, they respected the unspoken boundaries, allowing the complexities of your relationships to remain your own.

Meanwhile, Mattheo turned his attention back to you, his eyes a tumultuous blend of emotions, the storm within him slowly subsiding as he registered the shock lingering in your eyes. With a soft yet determined expression, he stepped closer, his presence becoming a comforting shield against the aftermath of the confrontation that had left both of you shaken.

"Raven, I'm so fucking-" he began, his voice thick with regret and unspoken apologies.

"I'm fine, Mattheo." You cut him off, your heart pounding in your chest, the sight of his breathless, bloodied and dishevelled form doing dangerous things to your cunt--and you knew, more than anything, you just wanted to be alone with him. "Please just take me back to your dorm."

His brows furrowed in confusion, but the desperation in your eyes didn't leave room for questions.

"What-" he started to inquire, but you took a step closer, your neck arching slightly to catch his dark, penetrating gaze.

"Take me back to your dorm," you repeated. "Please."

Upon hearing the raw desperation in your voice, Mattheo nodded, his fingers gently finding yours as he immediately led you down the hall and through the empty corridor to his dorm. The moment he pushed the door open, allowing you to step inside, it felt as though the temperature in the room had increased to a million bloody degrees. The air was thick with unspoken tension, a potent mix of fear, desire, and the undeniable pull that had always existed between you, intensified now by the events of the night.

As you cautiously stepped into his dorm, your eyes were drawn to the familiar sight of the astronomy book lying open on his desk. The memory of the last time you had been in his dorm flashed in your mind--the same book, sitting untouched on his desk, an odd object in the midst of his carefully curated chaos.

"Why do you still have this out?" you questioned, your voice laced with curiosity and a hint of suspicion.

The question hung in the air, laden with unspoken implications. Mattheo hesitated, his stormy eyes locking onto yours in a moment of vulnerability.

"Can't a man indulge in the mysteries of the stars whenever he fancies?" he retorted with a smirk, attempting to deflect the gravity of the situation. His voice carried a hint of playfulness, but the tension beneath the surface was palpable. "Or perhaps stargazing is an art reserved solely for beautiful little ravens, hm?"

"Is it because of me?" Your stare bore into him, a mix of curiosity and suspicion flickering in your eyes. “Is it because of me that you have this book?”

He didn't deny it; instead, after a long, silent moment, he simply nodded, almost impenetrably, his gaze never leaving yours. It was a silent admission, a confession that hung heavy in the charged atmosphere of the room. In that moment, the undeniable pull between you became almost tangible, the invisible thread connecting your hearts growing stronger, defying the boundaries you had desperately tried to impose.

You stepped toward him. "Did you miss me, Mattheo..."

Mattheo met your gaze, his expression enigmatic yet stoic, a mask of his usual arrogance and charm slipping back into place. His silence lingered for a moment, the air thick with unspoken tension.

Then, in a voice that held a depth of emotion he was trying to conceal, he replied, "Maybe I did, Raven..."

You moved closer, the air crackling with need as you closed the distance, your heart pounding in your chest. When you finally stood before him, close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body, you dared to reach out, your fingers brushing against his cheek. His skin was warm, and beneath your touch, you could sense the subtle tremor that betrayed the restraint he was exercising. Your breath caught in your throat as you tilted your head, your lips hovering just millimeters from his.

"Don't be shy, Mattheo..." you murmured, teasing him with your fingers as you trailed over his jawline. "Why don't you show me how much you missed me..."

Mattheo's jaw clenched under your touch, his dark eyes smoldering with an intensity that matched the simmering desire between you. You sighed when his hands, strong and possessive, found their way to your hips, pulling you closer with a magnetic force that left you breathless. His restraint wavered, the barrier between temptation and surrender growing thinner by the second.

"Salazar fucking save me..." Mattheo's voice was a raspy whisper, a plea and a challenge rolled into one, his vulnerability veiled behind a facade of arrogance. "Who the hell are you..."

You leaned in, your lips hovering dangerously close to his, your eyes locking onto his with a daring intensity.

"Sorry to break it to you, Riddle," you purred, your voice a seductive melody that echoed in the charged space between you. "But I'm afraid not even your maker could save you now..." a teasing smile tugged at the corners of your lips, your breath mingling with his. "Better start counting your blessings..."

"Blessings, huh?" Mattheo's lips curved into a half-smirk, his voice low and dangerous, sending a shiver down your spine. "I'd much rather count the seconds until I can taste those sweet fucking lips of yours..."

His words sent a jolt of desire through you, your heart pounding in response to his brazen confidence.

"Gods, you really are a changed man, aren't you?" You murmured, fighting your smirk as his fingers tightened their grip on your hips. "You were never one to wait for permission before..."

"Raven," his voice was a low, raspy whisper, the intensity in his eyes burning brighter. "You're really testing my fucking patience here...and you should know I'm not a patient man..."

Your smirk grew, heat flushing your cheeks, your fingers tracing a tantalizing path along the underside of his jawline, now, teasingly slow.

"Maybe I enjoy testing your limits…maybe I want to see how far I can push you..." you muttered, your voice laced with playful defiance. "Or perhaps I just like watching you squirm, Riddle...perhaps I want to hear you beg for me..."

Mattheo's patience snapped like a taut wire, his eyes narrowing with a mixture of exasperation and desire.

"Look at you, huh...all fucking smug..." he growled, his voice edged with playful frustration as he peered down at you. "You've kept that pussy from me for over two fucking weeks and now you want to tease me like this? Did you forget how bloody fast I can make you crumble for me..."

Your defiant facade began to crack under the intensity of his gaze, a shiver running down your spine.

"Gods, maybe I did..." your voice barely above a whisper, the defiance replaced by a flicker of vulnerability. "Maybe I need you to remind me..."

"Shit...there she is...there's my good fucking girl..." he murmured, his tone a mixture of reverence and desire. "...tell me what you want, Raven..."

A sigh of satisfaction slipped past your lips as his hands tightened their grip, his touch searing into your hips as though he was trying to hang on to his last shreds of willpower. With a trembling voice, you met his dark, penetrating eyes, wetting your lips as you let yourself drown in their depths.

"You," you whispered, your voice a husky admission. "I want you."

He exhaled. "Then fucking have me."

In a whirlwind of desire, his lips crashed onto yours, sending your senses into a frenzy. Your eyelids fluttered shut as both of you inhaled sharply through your noses, trying to catch your breath amidst the electrifying kiss. His hands, strong and possessive, tangled in your hair, pulling you closer with an urgency that matched the racing beat of your heart. Your lips parted in a soft groan of surrender, inviting him in, and his tongue slipped between your teeth with a hunger that bordered on desperation.

His lips moved over yours, claiming every inch as though he needed you to survive, and your fingers found solace in the dark waves of his hair, gripping them tightly. Mattheo responded with a primal sound, a low grunt of satisfaction that resonated between your entwined bodies. With a swift motion, he spun you around, his lips never leaving yours, walking you backwards until the backs of your knees met the edge of his bed. The kiss deepened, his mouth exploring yours with a deliberate slowness, his fingers continuing their sensual dance through your hair, pulling you impossibly closer, melting the space between you.

Mattheo's tongue danced a tantalizing dance inside your mouth before he withdrew, leaving a lingering connection between your lips. In that moment, silence enveloped both of you, rendering you nearly motionless, lost in a whirlwind of emotions, unsure of what to say, think, or do. You felt the undeniable hardness of his arousal pressing against your belly, causing a flicker of anticipation to ignite within you. Your hands instinctively moved towards the hem of your shirt, but he halted you with a gaze as hard as stone.

"No," he said, his voice low and commanding. "Let me."

A flush of scarlet painted your cheeks, but you nodded in silent consent, your throat tight with anticipation. His fingers bunched the fabric of your shirt, lifting it up and off of you. As you raised your arms, granting him permission to undress you further, he completed his task with deliberate care. The fabric landed on the floor with a soft rustle, discarded and forgotten, while his eyes roamed over every newly exposed expanse of your skin.

It was a ritual you knew you’d never tired of, the way he looked at your body as if it was a masterpiece, a gift he hadn't been prepared to receive.

Under the intensity of his gaze, a cascade of warmth flooded through you, your skin tingling with awareness. His hands skillfully moved behind you, unclasping your bra with practiced ease. He pushed it off your shoulders, the fabric gliding down your arms, his fingers skimming over the surface of your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

He paused for a moment, his eyes meeting yours in a silent question, before gracefully sinking to his knees in front of you. His warm breath ghosted over your belly, holding your stare as to ask for permission before he hooked his thumbs under the rim of your pants and panties, peeling them down your thighs, revealing your sensitive sex to him--inch by torturous inch.

A shiver rippled through your nerves, sending a thrill down your spine as his molten-gold eyes held yours with hunger that seemed to consume everything in its path. His gaze didn't waver for a single moment, even as he expertly removed your shoes and tossed them aside carelessly. As he rose, his palms trailed over the contours of every curve, his touch igniting a trail of electric sensations in their wake. He towered over you, a commanding presence that left you breathless, and one of his hands delicately cupped your face, his thumb tracing the outline of your lower lip with a gentle intensity that sent your heart racing.

"Lie back," he murmured.

Your fingers quivered with anticipation as you nodded, succumbing to the electric tension in the air. Slowly, you eased yourself back onto the mattress, adjusting your position so you could lie flat against the soft bedding.

Mattheo prowled around the perimeter of the bed, his intense gaze scorching your skin, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. Each step he took seemed deliberate, his movements exuding a raw, primal energy. After a moment, he paused, his fingers deftly working on the buttons of his bloodied dress-shirt. With a fluid motion, he peeled off the fabric, revealing the chiseled contours of his chest. His pants followed suit, dropping to the floor until he stood before you in just his boxers.

From this angle, the sight of him made your cheeks flush and your breath hitch in your throat. The raw masculinity and confidence he exuded was both breathtaking and overwhelming, leaving you yearning for more as he loomed over the bed, the outline of his throbbing cock straining the fabric of his boxers doing unspeakable things to your body--the sight of it against the background of hard, tense muscle made you clench, and you bit your lip to hide a moan that was sneaking its way out of your mouth.

And even though you knew he noticed, he said nothing, even as his knee dropped into the mattress, even as he shifted, crawling over you, until he hovered above you, looking more fucking angelic than he ever had before, looking like a man filled with devotion, passion and need.

"Mattheo..." fear was mixing with the pull of lust. You'd never seen him like this. "Matty, I--"

"Shh," he said, pushing a strand of hair away from your temple. "Relax for me, princess..."

You drew in a shaky breath, and nodded--and his lips pressed into yours, plush and wet, before he moved, leading a tingling line of kisses down your cheek, to your jawline, to your neck. Leaning in, he caressed your throat with his warm mouth and you gasped, back arcing into him. In response, Mattheo purred, laying layer after layer of soft, wet marks on your sensitive flesh. One large hand slid down your arm while he kissed his way to your breast, nuzzling his cheek into the valley of your chest before drawing a nipple between his lips.

A cry escaped you, your hips bucking into his abdomen. "Oh, Gods..."

"Shh," he said again. "Relax, angel..."

The nickname he called only made you want to writhe more. Your mind internally fucking screaming with need. Taking a deep breath, you nodded anyway.

"My angel," he repeated, planting slow, soft kisses on your stiffening bud. "My fucking sweet little angel..."

He took your nipple into his mouth again, moaning while he suckled it swollen, his hands painting pleasure on your swathes of naked, aching skin. You whimpered, nibbling on your lip to silence any sound, hands slowly slithering their way through his messy, yet beautiful fucking hair. As you tightened your grip on his strands, a groan slipped past his teeth, and he flicked the tip of your peak with his tongue before releasing it, mouth making a hot trail along your navel, his hands massaging up and down the outside of your thighs.

"You're doing so well," he whispered into your stomach. "You're so fucking beautiful..."

"Matty..." you whined, his words creating a storm of bliss in your chest. You didn't know what else to say.

"Keep being good for me..." he kissed his way to the mound of your pussy, holding a rumble in his chest as his lips grazed the top of your slit. "Are you ready?"

Are you ready? He just fucking asked if you were ready. As you gazed at him, his pink lips glistening with saliva, eyes smoldering with desire, the answer became crystal clear.

"Yes," you said. "Yes, I'm ready."

Without further hesitation, Mattheo lowered his head between your legs, your entire body jolting in pleasure as he licked a broad, flat band up your sex, feeling your fingers twirling in the curls of his hair. His mouth was hot and eager as he showered your folds with deep, heavy kisses, sending shivers of delight throughout your entire being. Mattheo's hands held your thighs in place as he slicked his strong tongue in between your slit, each touch sending waves of pleasure coursing through your core. Your eyes were fixed upon him, unable to look away from the sight of him worshipping your cunt with his mouth.

"You taste incredible," he cooed, leaving soft kisses along the crease of your thighs. "You know that I thought about this little pussy everyday, don't you?"

Your breath hitched. "Y-you did?"

"Mmhm."

He returned to working his tongue along your inner-folds, gathering your juices along the tip, humming while he swallowed--he was deliberate, taking his time to memorize every bit of your pussy, to draw as much cum from your core as he could. You whined, your clit desperate for attention.

"Matty..." you pleaded, "please..."

Mattheo's gaze met yours as he hummed, sealing his lips around your swollen nub. The intensity of the pleasure collided into you, causing a wracking sob to escape your lips as your eyes closed in ecstasy. His grip tightened on your thighs, tugging you closer to his face. As he sucked on your clit, he gradually built up the pressure, block by block, pushing you towards the peak of orgasm.

Your hips relentlessly rolled into him, urgent moans filling the air as you fell further and further toward overwhelming bliss. "Fuck, Mattheo...Gods..."

His hands left your thighs, exploring your body, gripping and kneading any inch of flesh they could find, until they finally rested on your breasts, thumbs tracing small, gentle circles on your hardened nipples.

"Oh, fuck," you said, "fuck, fuck..."

As the intensity of your pleasure peaked, any words leaving your lips devolved into incoherent wailing. You teetered on the edge, straining against a wall of unrelenting bliss that threatened to overtake you completely. Then, with two hard sucks, Mattheo eased you over, drawing out your climax long and slow against his mouth. Ecstasy consumed you, numbing your skin as your limbs shook and trembled. Every sensation was intensified as he pulled you through wave after wave of pleasure, groaning as your juices coated his lips, your core throbbing and pulsing at his chin.

It felt like an eternity before he finally released you, dragging his tongue up the top of your slit as he panted and gasped for breath alongside you. The aftermath of your intense orgasm left both of you struggling to regain your senses.

Your head rolled along the mattress, lids fluttering open, hands petting at his hair. "Fuck, Mattheo...that was..."

"Shh." He licked his lips, gaze liquefying your center, and returned his focus to your belly, kissing a steady path to your sternum, his hands still stroking at your skin. "I need you to know how much I missed everything...and I mean fucking everything..."

"Oh," was all that left your mouth, teeth pinching your lip when it began to tremble.

"From your perfect fucking tits to your filthy little mouth..." one hand started to palm at your breast, the other still gliding up your side as he inched forward. "From those delicious fucking thighs to that pretty little pussy..." he was at your neck, now, rasping into it, the heat of his body enveloping you. "Every inch of you is fucking perfect...fuck the drugs Raven, you are my insatiable goddamn addiction..."

Every syllable that escaped his lips seemed to caress your very soul, igniting a wildfire of longing within you. His words were like a spell, weaving around your heart and wrapping you in a cocoon of desire. You craved him in a way that transcended the physical, a hunger that went bone-deep. It wasn't just the touch of his skin against yours that you yearned for; it was the merging of your essence, the melding of your souls into an ethereal dance of passion. You wanted to dissolve the boundaries between you, to lose yourselves in a realm crafted solely for your bodies, where every touch and sigh was a symphony of fervor.

And as you met his gaze, there it was, in his eyes--an unnamed emotion that pulsed between you, an unspoken truth that bound you together in a way words could never encapsulate. It was a force beyond reason, an irresistible pull that drew you closer, time after fucking time again.

"You once called me a plague but fuck...you have no fucking idea..." his voice, raw with desire, clawed its way out of his throat. "I haven't even fucked you, Raven...how the fuck have you done this to me?"

Your heart skipped a beat, fingers instinctively curling in his hair. "Do you want to?..."

Mattheo hesitated, as if time itself hung suspended. His eyes searched your face, seeking the truth in your words, and then, he answered, his voice a low rasp,

"Of course I do..." he breathed. "But after what happened tonight-"

"No," you cut him off, your body moving restlessly beneath his. "After what happened tonight, I only want you more...I've never fucking wanted you so fucking badly, Mattheo...it was you who defended me, not Tom, not Zabini, you...it's always been you..."

Mattheo's jaw tensed, his eyes darkening, his chest heaving. "You want me to fuck you..." he said, as though he was trying to make himself believe it. "You want me to take your virginity..."

You nodded, a silent confirmation of your desire, but Mattheo's fingers found their way to your jaw, his touch surprisingly gentle, yet firm. He held your gaze, his eyes searching yours for any hesitation, any uncertainty.

"Say it, Raven," he murmured, his voice low and commanding. "You know I need to hear you say it. Tell me you want me to take your virginity."

Your breath caught in your throat, his proximity overwhelming your senses. With a shaky inhale, you met his intense gaze, your voice coming out as a mere whisper, "I want you to take my virginity, Mattheo."

"Fucking hell..." he breathed, the desire in his tone making your core scream. "You know that means-"

"I'm yours." You cut him off. "Even though all of this could fuck up my entire future, I don't care...I'm yours...I submit my sanity to the disaster that is sneaking around with you, Mattheo...I don't want the safe option, I don't want soft or subtle...I want dangerous, I want messy, I want sins...I fucking want you..."

"Salazar fucking save me..." he breathed after a long moment of staring at you, shifting himself to pull down his boxers, his throbbing cock springing free, smacking against his belly. "You really are a little fucking devil..."

You clenched at the sight of his dick, head glistening with precum, twitching insistently as he shifted, looping an arm under your neck and cradling your head, his face nestling into your neck while his other hand directed the head of his dick against your wet folds, slicking itself along your wetness, your entire body tensing at the foreign sensation.

He was so fucking big...you weren't sure if, "are you even going to fit...you're so fucking-"

"Shh, Raven." Mattheo huffed against your neck, angling back to meet your eyes, that devilish smirk plastered across his lips. "I'll make it fit."

At his words, you clenched again, unable to deny the intoxication of his primal arrogance, his eyes fixed on your face as he angled himself at your core now, the anticipation radiating off of him only fuelling your hunger, sending thrills through every inch of your body.

"Relax," he breathed, eyes boring into yours, the hand behind your head keeping you in place. "And look at me...I want you looking into my fucking eyes as you feel yourself stretching out for me..."

With a nod, you held his stare, and slowly, deliberately, he pushed himself inside of you, inch by inch, letting you gasp and wince while his thick length stretched you open, until he was fully sheathed within your tightness. The sensation was overwhelming, stretching you to your limit, beyond anything you ever thought possible, and Mattheo only seemed to grow harder with each gasp that left your lips. With him completely seated inside of your cunt, you felt him pulsing at the hilt, felt his already urgent need to cum inside of you. But instead of moving right away, he jerked you closer to his chest, his lips softly grazing yours as he brought his hand to cup your jaw.

"Are you okay?" His voice was torn, shredded, nearly unrecognizable.

You nodded, holding his eyes. "I'm okay."

"Shit, Raven..." a deep groan left his chest as he exhaled, pulling out and plunging back in as slowly and carefully as he had the first time. "You're so fucking tight...fuck..."

You mewled--between the passion in your chest and the newfound sensations between your legs, your head was spinning, something was close to bursting. His skin was so hot against you, and you gripped him tighter, another moan leaving your chest, chin shaking beyond your control, the pleasure and pain commingling in your mind as you surrendered to his skilled touch--Mattheo stared at you through it all with gleaming eyes before he smothered your lips with a kiss, burning and short.

"Is this what you wanted?" The low thunder of his voice melted in your ears, and he murmured your name. "Tell me..."

Your fingers dug into his skin, your voice torn between gasps. "Yes, Mattheo..." you mewled. "It's all I've wanted."

He leaned forward, lips feathersoft on yours, kissing you, still easing his cock into you with careful rolls of his hips. The grip at your head soothed your scalp--and you could feel it, could feel yourself blending with his body as he pushed deeper and deeper inside of you, could feel your pulses pounding in pace, could feel the unspoken, intangible harmony coiling in your blood.

"Who else can make you feel like this, hm?" His embrace constricted you, now, stilling you while he rocked deep into you, stuffing you full, his free hand travelling down your belly, grazing over your clit--and you choked, whimpered, limp in his arms. "Tell me who this tight little pussy fucking belongs to..."

The pleasure was overwhelming, earth shattering, entirely all encompassing. Your lids fluttered, your brain spinning. "Oh, Gods...oh my fucking-"

"Look at me, Raven..." he ordered, voice torn. "Look at me or I'll stop."

Reluctantly, you opened your eyes, nails biting into his skin, heart pounding in your throat as you felt your sanity dangerously fucking close to shattering, your entire body encompassed in a pleasure that you've never known, a pleasure that only Mattheo fucking Riddle could give you, one that burns you from the inside out, one that shatters every inch of your resolve, leaving you bare before him.

"Tell me..." he whispered, his fingers twirling your clit. You could tell he was close, too. "Fuck...fucking say it…”

"You," you mewled, lost in the melted chocolate swirls of his irises. "It fucking belongs to you, Mattheo...fuck...only you..."

"Shit..." he groaned your name, sucking at your shoulder, tongue leaving hot lines on your neck. "You love being dirty for me..." his fingers whirled your clit faster. "You love being my nasty little slut, don't you?"

"Yes, yes, Mattheo..." you wailed, body trembling beneath him. "I love it..."

"Fuck--" A feral kiss bruised your lips, his cock splitting you with long thrusts. "That's it..." he muttered your name against your mouth. "Cum--cum for me, let me feel you..."

You shattered. "Gods--Matty! Fuck..."

Euphoria rended you wide, tearing at the seams of your sanity, and you fractured, convulsing with the sheer strength of your climax. Your walls spasmed around his dick, milking him hard, and Mattheo held you, mouth meeting yours as he came, hips hitting you with every rush of rapture as he quickly followed after you, spilling his release inside your cunt. This seemed to last for minutes, the aftershocks of bliss rippling through your bodies at once while you remained there catching breath, still connected.

You were wilted, spent, a collection of skin and cum and sweat, and when Mattheo finally pulled out, he slumped down on the mattress beside you, pulling you back into his chest, nothing but the collective sounds of your exhausted panting filling the air, neither of you willing to move even though you knew you couldn't stay here all night--but your drooping lids didn't care, your body succumbing to slumber without giving you a choice.

And as you drifted off, you couldn’t help but question how a boy who once had been the bane of your fucking existence, had now become the centre of it.

———————-

Find eighteen here->

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milkbobatyun · 2 months ago

Text

dark sunrise

pairing: yandere!sunday x reader

genre: angstober, events, yandere

summary: the sun rises again, but are you still who you are?

word count: 746

C O N T E N T W A R N I N G : yandere behaviour, manipulation, fear, stockholm syndrome

a/n: my attempt at writing about stockholm syndrome. if you or someone you know has experienced or is experiencing this, please do seek the right professional help. i will make it clear that IN NO WAY am i romanticising this, just thought it would fit in well with the scenario.

the golden sun’s warm rays smiled upon your face through the glass, refracting rays of rainbows across the room.

the breeze blew in from the open windows, its cool fingers twisting through your hair, dancing carelessly through the curtains of your bedposts.

every day, you wished you could be as free as the wind, blowing along without a care in the world. yet here you were, entrapped on the bed, the fracture in your ankle anchoring you down, reliant on sunday to meet your daily needs.

need water? simply a word and he would have it by your side, feeding it to you sip by sip. you didn’t need to lift a finger. wanted some comfort food? sunday was already ordering the maids to inform the chef. he knew you so well, he had everything arranged before you even opened your mouth.

sunday was trying to curry your favour and manipulate you. sunday was understanding of you, he knew you like the palm of his hand.

like a bird courting its mate, sunday brought you many little gifts and trinkets. a shiny necklace today, a multifaceted jewel the next.

it amused you to see his wings flap up with excitement and anticipation as he watched your every little reaction. somehow, in the shimmering light of sun that haloed his figure, he seemed more like an angel sent from above than a devil of your nightmares. perhaps sunday wasn’t truly evil, just misunderstood.

sunday’s comforting smile and hold warmed your heart, making it flutter in your chest. but for an instant, you caught something more twisted behind his eyes, something that made your blood run cold.

wait. something wasn’t right. that isn’t true, sunday was keeping you away from your loved ones. your heart was warmed by his thoughtful gifts, but underneath, something ominous gnawed at your consciousness. a faint whisper echoed in your mind: you need to escape. without a second thought, you squashed the vexing voice, casting it to the back of your mind

sunday was evil sunday was your god, your saviour.

in a state of boredom, when your injuries allowed you, you began to explore through your bedroom, shuffling through drawers and reading your old diaries.

you were scandalised to find a passage you had written in your earlier days, the words squiggling and shaking across the page like worms,.

someone please come and save me soon. i’m scared. my arm still hurts from yesterday when he twisted it because i didn’t follow his instructions, my cheek still swollen from when he slapped me for talking to a bystander. i’m struggling to conceal the bruises on my neck from—

the words on the page merge into one large ink blot that soaks into the page. fear and anxiety had rendered your writing useless, your clumsiness spilling over onto the page in the form of black ink.

you were horrified by what you had written early in your days of captivity misunderstood days, when you were still learning to be obedient. ripping out the page, shame flushed through you.

how dare you think such thoughts? wishing to be free? rebellious. sunday was doing these things for your own good. he cared for you.

bringing the page up to the candle, you watched the paper wither and smoulder away, hiding the evidence of your criminal thoughts.

the moon shone its milky light into the room, watching over you as you slept peacefully, dreaming of a warm spring where you sat under the shade of a tree, surrounded by blooming flowers, cradled in sunday’s warmth.

sunday was a wolf in a sheep’s clothing. sunday is misunderstood, that’s how he expresses his love for me.

the crimson sun rose, its scarlet light spilling across the manor that held you captive kept you safe from the dangerous world, like an ocean of blood. you stared mindlessly out the window, forehead leaning on the cool glass.

you knew it was all wrong, upside down and back to front. the gifts, the isolation, yet every time that thought came close to bursting from its cage, you quashed down the rebellious thoughts of leaving. sunday’s gentle touch kept you in the palm of his hand, a prisoner in a golden cage. how could you doubt, even for a minute, that sunday was causing you harm? sunday was dangerous, you needed to leave as soon as possible. sunday understands and cares for me more than anyone else. sunday was warm, like home.

∧,,,∧ ( ̳• · • ̳) © curated with love by milkbobayun 2024 / づ ♡

#honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #yandere hsr x reader #sunday x reader #yandere sunday x reader #yandere hsr #yandere honkai star rail #yandere honkai star rail x reader #yandere #yandere sunday #hsr sunday x reader #yandere x reader #yandere drabbles #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere character #yandere character x reader #angstober #angst

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ma-yawntu · 7 months ago

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mine, all mine. iii.

chapter three: fare well

pairing: neteyam x female!metkayina!reader

summary: Meeting with potential mates made you want to drown yourself, but what annoyed you even more was how much relief he provided.

word count: 2.7k

warnings: some rude guy, fluffy, neteyam being so damn respectful, parental pressure

now playing... birds of a feather by billie eilish

chapter one | chapter two | masterlist

You were sure this was the absolute worst part of being the daughter of the Olo’eyktan. You knew it was just part of life for you– but that didn’t mean you had to like it. You let your head rest in your palm as you sat in your family’s marui, the conversation you were supposed to be part of, falling on deaf ears. The stupid neck piece you were wearing was choking you and your head hurt from your freshly done braids. Every month or so, you were forced to suffer through a meal with a boy from the village your parents had picked for you and his parents while your parents tried not to give away their unbridled rage at how insolent you were being (mostly your mother).

“...isn’t that right?” Your father directed his attention toward you at the end of whatever it was he was saying. You could feel his eyes on you and you quickly looked between him, your mother and the family in front of you.

“Yeah… Yeah, sure,” you replied, completely uninterested and bored. Tonowari curled his lips inward before looking at the family in front of you with a nervous smile. Tonowari was always so sure that you would grow out of this rebellious phase when you were a child– finally cut him and your mother some slack after almost sending them to an early grave several times. But he was sorely mistaken.

“We must apologise A’tok, our daughter has been very busy with those forest Na’vi children– it has occupied a lot of her time,” your father quickly said. You could feel your mother’s eyes piercing the side of your head, surely burning two holes into your skull. “You understand.”

“Of course,” A’tok’s mother replied with a nervous smile, noticing the way the Tsahik glared at her daughter.

“Perhaps we should wrap this up?” A’tok’s father suggested. Thank Eywa someone in this marui had some semblance of sense.

The moment A’tok and his parents left, Ronal spun around to look at you, eyes blown wide with anger. Your father rested his hands on your shoulders, bracing you for the verbal ass-kicking you were about to receive.

“Must you embarrass us like that, ‘ite?” Your mother spat, her tone harsh. You felt your father flinch, his hands still resting on your shoulders. Your ears pinned back at her words, your tail twitching anxiously as she ran a hand down her face to calm herself. “A’tok is a nice boy, my daughter. You must think of the future of our clan, of your future–”

“A’tok is rude and arrogant,” you retorted, your voice low as you stared at the ground, jaw clenched in frustration. “He could not fill father’s role.”

Your mother sighed at that, your father gently rubbing the side of your arm. “I know that this is not what you want, ‘ite,” your mother sighed, tucking some of your hair behind your ear, “but this is how it is done. This is tradition.”

Tonowari shared a look with his mate before speaking, “but we still want you to find happiness,” he said, almost nervous as to how his mate would react. Ronal gave him an annoyed look– while she had the luxury of love in her relationship, not everyone before her was so lucky, most of the time it was an agreement– a partnership rather than a union.

“I do not think that is possible,” you mumbled, your parents glancing at one another. “May I go? I promised Reya I would be there to help her teach the Sully kids to ride the ilus,” you added, glancing up at your mother.

“Yes, you may go,” Ronal nodded. Ronal shared a look with Tonowari as you left, feeling rather defeated after the morning’s events. You knew it would be the same thing next month and you would inevitably have to give in to your parents wishes.

You walked through the village with your head hanging, lost in thought as you made your way to the main reef where your sister would be waiting. You didn’t understand why you had to be mated, why you and your sister or brother could not share the responsibility of leading the clan, you did not understand why it had to be you that was mated off.

“Where are you going?” You almost screamed at the sound of A’tok’s voice behind you. He had been a pain in your ass since you were children and you wanted nothing more than to be rid of him. The idea of your parents thinking he was a suitable mate for you was disturbing beyond belief. The two of you were nothing alike– he was rude and cocky, always getting into fights and was far too angry to be the next Olo’eyktan. Sure, you could be hard-headed yourself at times, but you were at least considerate and knew how to have a conversation without talking about yourself.

“I don’t believe that is any of your business,” you retorted, continuing to walk away and ignore him. His hand suddenly reached out, clutching your upper arm as he forced you to turn to him.

“If we are to be mated, I feel you should at least show me some respect,” he said, the stupid grin on his face making you want to punch it right off.

“We are not going to be mated,” you spat back, reefing your arm out of his grasp to continue walking. You could see your sister in the shallow reef waving at you– at least you would be free of this interaction soon enough.

He grabbed your wrist again, this time tighter, “your parents seem to like me. You may not have a choice,” A’tok smiled cockily, his grip on your wrist beginning to hurt. You opened your mouth to start spewing off insults but that familiar accent beat you to it.

“You have a lot of nerve putting your hands on the Olo’eyktan’s daughter,” Neteyam leaned against one of the thick trees that acted as supports for your village homes and pathways. His hair was wet, dripping all over the place as he stared A’tok down with a rather intense glare.

A’tok slowly removed his hand from your wrist and you gently rubbed at the irritated skin. “And who are you exactly? I’m sure she can handle herself.”

“Oh, I have no doubt she could,” Neteyam quickly replied, “but would you respect her disinterest in the likes of you?”

You wanted to laugh, you really did, but you elected to bite at your lip to avoid escalating the situation. A’tok looked between you and Neteyam for a moment before scoffing and leaving, his tail swishing angrily as he walked away.

“Are you okay?” Neteyam asked as soon as he was out of earshot.

“I could have handled that,” you retorted, making your way toward the beach.

“Yeah, you seemed to have it completely under control,” Neteyam chuckled, following close behind you.

You rolled your eyes, “I have known him since we were children, he is harmless.”

“Sure, but you don’t touch the Olo’eyktan’s daughter– or anyone’s daughter for that matter,” Neteyam replied. You stopped in your tracks, turning to look at him.

“I do not need your protection, Neteyam,” you grumbled, giving him an unimpressed look.

“Didn’t think you did,” he replied.

“Eywa, you are so annoying,” you groaned, turning on your heel to wade into the water.

“I’ll pretend that was a ‘thank you’,” he called after you.

“And I am going to pretend you didn’t just say that,” you called back.

Riding an ilu was probably one of your favourite pass times, you had been riding ilus since you were younger than Tuk and you enjoyed teaching the children of the village how to bond and ride with them, teaching an almost fully-grown forest Na’vi was a little more entertaining though. You stood waist-deep in the water beside Neteyam, your sister lovingly assigning you to him. You ran your hands along the thick skin of the ilu’s neck, soothing the creature.

“You want to make the bond gently,” you said softly, pulling on the ilu’s kuru. Neteyam was clinging to every word you said, listening intently as you soothed the creature. The ilu happily clicked at you as you scratched along his chin. “Here,” you held the ilu’s kuru out for him. “Gently.”

Neteyam pulled on his queue, letting the pink tendrils reach out for the ilu’s, making tsaheylu as gently as possible. The ilu’s pupils dilated, the creature’s fins splashing in the water. Your brother began to laugh behind you and both you and Neteyam watched as Lo’ak was thrown from his ilu, the creature splashing him comically.

“Maybe don’t do that,” you winced at Neteyam as he tried not to laugh at his brother.

“I’ll try,” he replied with a nod.

“Hold here,” you gestured to the wooden handhold that wrapped around the top of the ilu’s kuru, “he will move fast so… just hold on,” you laughed. Neteyam let out a breath and nodded at your words, gently mounting the ilu. “Feel his breath and his strength, do not try to order him– move with him.”

“Right,” Neteyam said, his hand gripping the handhold. He seemed nervous, his knuckles turning a lighter shade of blue at how hard he was gripping.

You reached your hands over his larger hands before looking at him, “relax,” you muttered softly.

Neteyam watched you for a moment, the two of you just staring at each other before you cleared your throat, stepping away from him. Neteyam took in a shaky breath before the ilu moved forward through the water, cutting through the reef. Neteyam stayed close to the ilu’s body, the two of them zipping through the reef.

You held your head underwater, watching him move with a stupid smile on your face. Neteyam emerged from the water, the ilu gently swimming back toward you. “You did it!” you beamed, rubbing the ilu’s snout softly.

“You’re a good teacher,” Neteyam said, panting softly. You gave him a look that told him you didn’t believe him, “I’m serious.”

“It helps that you seem like an overachiever,” you retorted, Lo’ak scoffing from behind you. Neteyam scooped some water up, splashing his brother.

You spend the rest of the afternoon helping Tuk with her own much smaller ilu, the little Na’vi giggling with delight when the ilu happily nuzzled her chest. Kiri seemed to have a way with animals, able to bond with her ilu all on her own without you or your sister’s guidance. You rode your own ilu through the reef with Tuk and Kiri; Lo’ak and Tsireya off in their own little world. At least they had the luxury of getting to spend time together because they wanted to, you were forced to meet with idiots and their parents– hours of your time you’ll never get back.

When night finally swallowed the village, you urged the Sully family to join you and your family for the village’s communal dinner by the beach. Your clan did a communal dinner once every week as a way of spending time together around the bonfire and sharing stories, Tsireya insisted you ask the Sully family to join since they were now living among your people. Neytiri was hesitant to join, the arrangement reminding her too much of her home. Jake comforted her, the two of them sitting comfortably by the bonfire while you and Tsireya showed their kids around.

You sat by the bonfire with your sister, your knee bumping with hers as you ate your meal. Lo’ak and Kiri came to join you, Lo’ak finding a comfortable place next to Tsireya (obviously).

“Hi, Lo’ak,” she greeted with a shy smile, you and Kiri sharing a knowing look with each other.

“Mind if I join you?” Neteyam’s voice made your ears prick up, your attention turning to the oldest brother. You gestured to the spot on the sand beside you, Neteyam taking a seat right by you, little Tuk coming to sit in front of you.

“I like your hair today,” Tuk said softly, some fruit juice smudged across her cheek.

“Thank you, little Tuk,” you smiled, wiping some of the fruit off her face.

“It’s pretty,” she giggled, “right, Neteyam?”

Neteyam looked at his sister with widened eyes, mouth full of food. He quickly nodded his head, almost choking on his food as he quickly tried to answer, “yeah– yes. Very pretty.” You chuckled softly, moving some of your hair over your shoulder, suddenly growing insecure of his eyes on you, the intricate neck piece you were still wearing somehow growing tighter around your neck.

After almost everyone had departed the beach, Tsireya insisted you both walk the Sully kids back to their marui while their parents stayed behind with the other adults of the clan. You were sure it was just so she could spend more time talking to Lo’ak and she wanted to disguise her little scheme.

Tuk held onto Kiri’s hand as she jumped along the woven path, you hanging back behind them while Neteyam trailed behind all of you. You could feel his eyes on you, peeking over your shoulder every now and then to catch him looking before he would glance at literally anything else.

“Why are you staring at me?” You asked boldly, pausing to let him catch up with you.

“I am not,” he replied quickly.

“You most definitely are,” you retorted.

“Awful bold of you,” he chuckled.

“Well it’s hard to focus when you keep looking at me,” you grumbled, pursuing your lips at him. Neteyam chuckled lowly at your words.

“Making you nervous, am I?” he asked curiously, lowering his head slightly to your height.

You frowned, feeling your cheeks heat as you crossed your arms over your chest, “no.”

“Convincing,” he nodded.

“Shut up,” you retorted, earning a laugh from him.

He walked beside you at a respectable distance, not letting his shoulder bump yours like Lo’ak did with Tsireya. His words from earlier in the day rattled around in your head, noting how he was so adamant on not touching you– or anyone touching you for that matter. It made your heart thump a little louder and quicker in your chest, praying to Eywa he didn’t notice.

“Will you teach me that finger talk thing you do?” Neteyam asked, changing the subject.

“Sign language you mean?” You chuckled softly.

“Yes, sign language,” he nodded. “I would like to learn.”

“Yes, I can teach you,” you replied. “Though, I think I might have to leave you in the capable hands of my sister since I’ll be busy.”

“Busy?” Neteyam asked curiously, “with what?”

You let out an annoyed sigh at the simple thought of it, “my parents want me to meet with potential mates around the village they have picked– while it is painful for me, it must be done,” you huffed.

Neteyam took in your words for a moment, “you are not allowed to choose?”

“I can,” you added, “but I am taking too long… to be fair, I am quite harsh.”

“You?” Neteyam asked sarcastically, “no way.”

You playfully shoved his side with a grin on your face, “not funny.”

“I am joking,” he quickly said, regaining his posture after your weak shove, “I’m sure that must be difficult.”

“It’s not exactly fun,” you replied, “and I have to wear this stupid thing,” you sighed, pulling at the neck piece your parents insisted you wear. It was intricate and covered in various beads and shells– your mother had worn it and so did your grandmother, it seemed fitting you wore it too, as much as it pained you.

“It’s not stupid,” Neteyam said softly, “it’s not you though.”

“Not me?” you repeated.

“Just doesn’t seem like something you would like, that’s all,” he added.

“And you know that, how?” you asked, genuinely curious as to what his reasoning might be. The two of you were beginning to lag behind the rest of his siblings without really noticing, lost in the conversation. It pained you to admit you actually enjoyed talking to him.

“Well, I mean, I don’t know you very well. But I know enough to know you wouldn’t enjoy wearing something like that,” Neteyam replied, slightly nervous.

You hummed, “well, you’re right.”

“But,” he started, a nervous breath leaving his lips, “I would like to get to know you more… if you’d like to know me too, you know?”

You laughed at his words softly, “that would be nice.”

You felt a smile pull at the corners of your lips, that had to be the first time someone has ever thought about what you would like without you telling them. It felt nice to be seen.

a/n: i apologise this is short! i have finals coming up :< pls let me know if you want to be added to the taglist

taglist: @s0urw00lf, @peqch-pie, @greatsstuffsposts

#avatar #atwow #avatar way of water #avatar x reader #atwow x reader #avatar the way of water x reader #neteyam #neteyam x reader #ao'nung #kiri #tuk #tuktirey #neytiri #jake sully #tsireya #lo'ak

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edenesth · 11 months ago

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The Way to His Heart [13]

Pairing: general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

AU: arranged marriage au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 3.8k

Summary: Life has been hell ever since your mother's passing many years ago. Despite being from a prominent family, you've never received the privileges associated with it. It only got worse with the arrival of your stepmother and her daughters. When the intimidating General Park was in search of a wife, your father seized the opportunity to dispose of you, simultaneously securing a connection with the powerful general—killing two birds with one stone.

A/N: Listen to 'Nobody else' by Ailee while reading this part to enhance the feels. It was on repeat for me as I wrote this story.

Part 12 | Fic Masterlist | Part 14

"Are you out of your goddamned mind? Among all the eligible women in the nation, you want the General Park Seonghwa's wife? Don't be absurd, Yeosang. They are devoted to one another and will be set to marry, as arranged by your father, His Majesty."

With a shake of her head, the Queen rubbed her temples, realising her fourth son was merely playing with her. She should have known better than to believe he would genuinely consider settling down.

"I'm serious, Mother. Don't you want me to marry?" The prince pressed, locking eyes with the elderly woman as she sighed, "Of course, I want you to marry, but not at the expense of upsetting the King's most trusted warrior. It's not feasible, my son."

As much as Her Majesty would love to entertain the idea of her son's sudden willingness to marry, she couldn't ignore the reality that going against her husband's decision was not possible. While she, as the Queen, held certain influence, especially in matters of marriage, the obstacle lay in your existing betrothal to General Park. Moreover, the deep love between you and the general was widely known.

There was no doubt that Seonghwa would raise hell if he found out about the prince's intentions of stealing his beloved from him. Even Yeosang would not be safe from his wrath by then, especially when the King was known to favour him more than his own son.

"But Mother—"

Not wanting to hear another word that could only exacerbate the conflict within her, she raised a hand to silence him, "Enough is enough, my son. None of this will happen. Besides, I am scheduled to meet the general and his wife for their wedding arrangements in a moment. I will not interfere with their marriage just because you—"

Before she could elaborate, the eunuch came stumbling in with wide eyes, "Your Majesty! The meeting with General Park and Lady Park has been cancelled; word has just gotten out that there is to be a war with Ruhon, and the general will be deployed in just a few days."

Caught off guard by the sudden revelation, Her Majesty was momentarily speechless, but she quickly composed herself and nodded, "Thank you, Eunuch Hwang. If that is all, you are dismissed."

The Queen couldn't ignore the sly grin on her son's face and shook her head, "This does not change anything, Yeosang. He may be going to war for some time, but his wife remains loyal to him."

"And if she doesn't?" He pressed on, a challenging brow raised.

She scoffed in disbelief at his words, "Do you even hear yourself? Must you pursue someone who is already unavailable?"

"Look, I understand your concerns about not wanting to upset Father, but if I can get Miss Jang to change her mind and choose me over the general, will I have your blessing then, Your Majesty?"

The mother of the nation found herself caught in conflicting emotions, torn between the desire for her son to finally settle down and the undeniable realisation that pursuing Lady Park was unequivocally wrong.

On one hand, the prospect of Yeosang embracing matrimony brought a flicker of hope to her heart. The elusive hope that her most rebellious son might, at last, find stability and commitment. The idea of him building a family, continuing the royal lineage, and securing the future of the Joseon dynasty appealed to her innate maternal instincts. This potential change in his life could be the remedy to the constant worry she harboured for him.

Yet, on the other hand, she grappled with the ethical dilemma of her son pursuing a woman who was already promised to another. The Queen, as the matriarch of the royal family, couldn't possibly condone or endorse actions that went against the principles of commitment and fidelity.

The conflicting emotions played out on her face as she considered the implications of her son's request. The desire for him to find happiness warred with the understanding that it should not come at the expense of another's commitment and love.

"Mother, were you listening? I said—"

With a heavy sigh, she fixed him with a stern gaze, "I heard you loud and clear, Yeosang. Go ahead and try all you want; I know nothing I say can stop you anyway. But don't be too disappointed when you realise she remains faithful to the one who saved her from a life of misery and has given her more love than anyone ever had. It's a losing game, and you know it, my son."

He grinned, "You know I love a challenge, Mother. She will be mine before you know it. Say all the righteous words you want; deep down, I know you want this as much as I do. That's alright, I'll be the bad guy, just as I always have been."

After smirking at his mother's apparent internal struggle, the prince left her chambers, feeling satisfied with the reaction he had provoked. He knew he had indirectly obtained her silent approval, allowing him to pursue you despite her vocal disapproval.

Pressing a palm against her forehead, the Queen muttered to herself, "Oh god, what have I done?" She was well aware that the King would not be pleased if he learned about the potential chaos that could unfold due to Yeosang's pursuit of the general's wife. The conflicting emotions within her only deepened, and she dreaded the consequences of the choices she had indirectly allowed him to make.

Meanwhile, at the general's estate, a sombre atmosphere prevailed as Jongho and Eunsook swiftly briefed all staff members about their master's imminent departure.

Although it wasn't the first time they experienced him leaving for war, it marked the first time with the new mistress around. The servants couldn't help but empathise with you, recognising that you had only recently joined the household, and now, your husband would be embarking on a lengthy absence, leaving you alone at home.

Contrary to their expectations, you appeared to be handling the news more gracefully than any of them had anticipated. The only difference in your demeanour would be the heightened display of affection. While the general typically initiated physical closeness, you became less reserved than usual. Perhaps you were cherishing every moment with him before his departure, given the uncertainty of his return.

During dinner that evening, your attention was solely devoted to looking after your husband. You carefully filled his bowl with all his favourite dishes. Whenever his long fringe obscured his vision, you instinctively reached out to delicately brush the strands away from his face, your fingers lightly tracing his cheek. The servants couldn't help but notice the unwavering gaze fixed upon him, already discerning a sense of longing in your eyes.

Eunsook had explicitly ordered that no one bothered the master and mistress after the meal, making sure that you could spend undisturbed time together. The maids were instructed to only appear when summoned.

As a result, you found yourself comfortably nestled in Seonghwa's arms within your pavilion, gazing out at the moonlit lotus pond before you, relishing in the tranquil atmosphere. Millions of thoughts coursed through both of your minds, yet neither of you spoke, preserving the serene mood.

You couldn't resist smiling in his embrace as he traced butterfly kisses from your forehead, along the side of your face, down to your neck. A small giggle escaped your lips at the ticklish sensation, and he grinned playfully. He kissed you on the ear before whispering, "Hey, Lady Park, do you want to know a secret?"

Looking up at him through squinted eyes, there was a hint of suspicion in your gaze, "What secret could you possibly be hiding from me, General Park?"

He chuckled as you played along, leaning in to murmur in your ear, "I haven't told you this before, but... I love you, my wife."

Your heart skipped a beat at hearing those three words from your husband for the first time. Seonghwa pulled back slightly, resting his forehead against yours and staring deeply into your eyes. Reaching up, you cupped his face with your small hands. Your heart fluttered when he kissed your palm before nestling his cheek against it again.

Braving the moment, you planted a soft kiss on his lips. His eyes widened in surprise, accustomed to being the initiator, but he quickly broke into a smile, closing his eyes and responding to your kiss.

In that moment, both of you cast aside thoughts of the impending war, choosing to concentrate solely on each other. His breath caught when you wrapped your arms around his neck, drawing him in closer. This act of boldness was new for you, but he welcomed it, tightening his hold around you.

As your lips finally parted for air, he enveloped you in a tight hug, his larger frame securely holding you. With a hand cradling the back of your head, he nuzzled his nose against your neck, committing the sensation of you in his arms to memory. It was a moment he wished could last forever.

You held him just as tightly, burying your face against his shoulder and savouring the warmth, not knowing when you would be held like this again once he leaves.

After a moment, he withdrew slightly to meet your gaze, "Wait, I just told you that I love you. Are you not going to say it back to me, Lady Park?"

With a mischievous shake of your head, you playfully stuck out your tongue, prompting him to burst into laughter. Softening your expression, you responded, "If you want to hear me say it back to you, General Park, then you'll have to come back to me safely."

He turned serious, nodding with a determined smile, "You know, I used to approach wars as if they were just games. Dying didn't matter, and I had nothing to lose. But for the first time, I'm afraid... because now I have something worth living for. It's you, my love. I promise you I will do everything in my power to return to you."

"Good afternoon, my lord." Physician Jung bowed respectfully upon entering the general's study after being summoned.

Seonghwa looked up, acknowledging the taller male's presence, "Ah yes, you're here, Yunho. Please take a seat." He gestured towards one of the two chairs positioned in front of his desk.

"Have you called me over to officially dismiss me? I'm aware Lady Park's treatment is almost done; perhaps you'd like to relieve me of my duty sooner." The doctor inquired as he sat, contemplating whether he should start packing up if that was the case.

Releasing a small sigh, your husband shook his head, "No, that's not why I called you—"

"Yah, Park Seonghwa. You better have a good reason for summoning me over so soon. Your wife's next batch of clothes is never going to be ready on time if you keep calling me over for every little thing..." Hongjoong blinked as he sauntered in, surprised to see the doctor also present and not missing the general's serious expression.

"Oh dear, I know that look. What is it?" The dressmaker winced, moving over to sit down beside Yunho.

Pressing his head into his hands, Seonghwa took a deep breath before addressing the matter, "I won't beat around the bush," Raising his head, he finally met his friends' gazes, "There is an imminent war with Ruhon, and I will be deployed to the war zone in just a few days."

Hongjoong and Yunho exchanged glances, shock etched on their faces. It had been a while since the last war, and the unexpected news hit them with a wave of concern. The government had done an excellent job of keeping such matters under wraps to prevent panic among the citizens.

After a moment of shared silence, the dressmaker leaned back in his chair, a troubled frown etched on his face, "A war? How did this come about? I thought we were in a period of relative stability."

The physician, equally perplexed, chimed in, "And so soon after your marriage. It's... unprecedented."

Your husband sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair, "I was just as blindsided by the news. His Majesty called me for an emergency meeting yesterday. It seems our diplomatic efforts with Ruhon have failed, and war is inevitable."

The atmosphere in the room shifted as Hongjoong's eyes widened with realisation, "Wait, that means your wedding ceremony..." He trailed off, feeling the weight of the situation sink in. His expression softened with genuine sympathy, and he spoke with a heavy heart, "Oh no... I'm so sorry, my friend."

Seonghwa nodded appreciatively at his friend's understanding, acknowledging the unspoken disappointment. Collecting himself from the initial shock, Yunho, always the practical one, voiced out, "Then you must have called us here for a good reason. What can we do for you, general?"

"Thank you, both of you. I summoned you not only to share the news but because I need your help. While I'm away, I want to ensure that my wife is well taken care of. Hongjoong, please continue overseeing her wardrobe and comforts. Also, work your magic and cheer her up for me when she's down. Yunho, unfortunately, I'm going to need you to stay here and ensure she receives the best medical attention. I understand this limits you from accepting other patients, but I promise we will compensate you for your dedication."

His friends readily agreed without hesitation. The dressmaker turned serious, "Don't worry, I'll visit more frequently to keep her company," The doctor nodded in agreement, "And I'll stay for as long as you need, my lord. Lady Park will receive the best care."

"I appreciate it, you two. I'll trust you to keep an eye on her while I'm away." Your husband said, feeling a bit relieved, knowing he could count on them to support you in his absence.

The next few days passed in a blur as you spent nearly every waking second with your husband. Daytimes were filled with endless conversations in his study, discussing anything and everything, while late evenings were cherished in your pavilion, holding each other close and sharing affectionate kisses.

Even if it wasn't a honeymoon, it felt like one.

The imminent war and Seonghwa's unavoidable departure were like an unspoken presence in the room, always lingering in your minds. However, neither of you dared to address it, choosing instead to talk about anything but the impending separation.

You started questioning whether it was the right choice not to express your love for him as well. What if he never returned? The thought of regret lingered, and you couldn't shake off the fear that he might not make it back alive. Despite his skills as a fighter, the harsh reality was that he was only human, and the uncertainties of the battlefield weighed heavily on your heart.

Spending another evening in your pavilion, you shifted slightly within his embrace and looked up at him. Your heart clenched at the sight of the worry etched on his face. Self-doubt crept in as you considered the selfishness of your actions. While he prepared to face the dangers of war, you would be waiting in the safety of your shared home. How could you deny him the reassurance of hearing your love in return after he had opened his heart to you?

Lifting your hand to gently cup his cheek, you prompted him to meet your gaze, "Seonghwa, there's something I need to tell you before you leave... I—"

Before you could finally utter those three words back to him, Jongho hurriedly approached, "Sir! Oh gosh, I apologise for the interruption!"

The general sighed and shook his head, straightening up as he turned to his assistant with a wry smile, "What is it?"

Bowing deeply, the younger man gulped before delivering the news, "Sir, the base at the war site has been set up. General Officer Song is already there and ready to begin strategising. You are expected to travel there at your soonest convenience."

Your heart sank at the realisation that the moment of departure had arrived. You felt your husband let out a shaky breath and tighten his hold around you as he inquired, "I understand. Are my belongings all packed and transportation prepared?"

With a grim expression, Jongho nodded, "Yes, sir. Everything is ready to go. All that's left is you."

"Guess it's time for me to go, my love."

The sound of your heart pounding in your ears drowned out any other noise as Seonghwa got suited up. You accompanied him, silently witnessing the transformation of the man you loved into the formidable general the nation needed. Every clink of his armour resonated with the weight of his duty, the heavy responsibility that he shouldered willingly.

The urgency was palpable. He was the linchpin of the military, and his immediate presence was required. It felt like a luxury that you had a few extra days to spend with him, but now, the inevitable farewell loomed, and the time had come for him to go.

Watching him clad in his armour, fear settled in the depths of your being. Your husband, the man you cherished, was about to embark on a perilous journey, risking his life to defend his country. The gravity of the situation sank in, and the ache in your heart intensified. You couldn't shake the overwhelming sense of dread, envisioning the horrors he might face on the battlefield.

Preparing for the farewell, you tried to muster the strength to bid him goodbye, but the lump in your throat made it difficult to find words. The separation weighed on you, and the air was thick with the unspoken anguish that enveloped both of you.

It was well past your usual bedtime when he was fully prepared to leave for the war zone. Standing at the entrance of the general's estate on a chilly night, you sent him off to work, a routine you had grown accustomed to. Only this time, the circumstances were vastly different. You had no idea when, or if, he would return. The concept of him leaving for war felt abstract until this very moment, seeing him before you in the dignified attire of a military commander.

You fought to hold back your tears as he drew closer, enveloping you in a cloak to shield you from the cold breeze, "It's cold out here, my love. You better head in soon to catch up on some rest. While I'm away, you must take care of yourself, alright? If you're bored, summon Hongjoong, and he'll keep you entertained. If you're feeling even the least bit unwell, Yunho will be around."

His heart clenched at the sight of your tears trickling down your cheeks, and he swallowed the lump forming in his throat. Leaving you was proving to be much harder than he had anticipated. Unable to resist, he wrapped his arms around you one last time, holding you close as he breathed in your scent, "God, I love you so much."

Jongho and Eunsook watched with pain in their eyes as you shared your final embrace. With no choice, one of the waiting coachmen reluctantly cleared his throat, "General, I hate to break you up, but we really must go."

Feeling him start to pull away, you panicked and clutched his arms, speaking through sobs, "W-wait, before you go... I just... I really want to th-thank you for everything you've done for me since my arrival. Thank you for accepting me, for s-seeing the beauty in me, for protecting m-me. I will f-forever be grateful, and I... Seonghwa, I lo—"

Your words were silenced by the familiar sensation of his lips firmly pressing against yours. The kiss carried the saltiness of your tears and perhaps a bit of his as well. Pulling away just enough for his lips to lightly brush against yours, he whispered, "No, don't say it. I want to hear it when I come home to you."

Smiling through your tears, you nodded.

Pleased, he planted a gentle kiss on your forehead, murmuring a soft, "Good girl," before shifting his gaze to his assistant and head maid, signalling with a nod that it was now their responsibility to look after you. The two bowed deeply in acknowledgement.

With a heavy heart, he reluctantly stepped away, the anxious sounds of his soldiers' boots tapping against the ground filling the air, "I'm afraid I really must go. I'll see you again, my love."

Despite the ache in your chest, you managed to beam encouragingly at him, "Go, our country needs you. I'll be right here waiting for you." It took every ounce of strength for the general to turn away, fighting the urge to look back, knowing he wouldn't be able to resist running back to you.

As the carriage rolled away, disappearing from view, you did your best to hold back your tears until the very last moment. Once it was out of sight, you sank to the ground, the weight of reality crashing down on you. Jongho and Eunsook rushed to your side, supporting you as you struggled to stand. With their help, you made your way back into the estate, the silent sobs finally escaping as you clung to the memories of the last moments with your husband.

I love you too, Park Seonghwa.

« Preview of Part 14 »

"Come on, Lady Park, don't be too down. Your husband didn't earn the reputation of the most formidable general in all of Joseon for no reason, you know? I've witnessed him in action enough times to vouch for his skills. He'll be just fine."

A giggle escaped your lips at Hongjoong's attempt to lighten the mood. He guided you around town, aiming to distract you from your concerns about Seonghwa. Two maids followed behind, ready to assist you and the dressmaker with any purchases.

He led you to areas of the town you had not yet explored, stopping to shop for materials that would aid in his dressmaking. Your eyes widened in awe as you took in the various coloured fabrics neatly arranged in the shop you had just entered.

Curious, you asked, "What is this place?"

Hongjoong grinned, pleased to see your attention finally shifting away from thoughts of your husband, "This, my dearest, is a fabric factory. Feel free to look around, but don't wander too far. I'll be here placing my order, alright?"

With a nod, you ventured deeper into the expansive store, marvelling at the diverse array of fabrics on display. Unbeknownst to you, you had wandered to the back, where factory workers toiled under the harsh sunlight, dyeing the fabrics.

A few of them cast curious glances in your direction, and you stammered out an apology, "O-oh, my apologies for intruding!" Amidst the workers, a familiar face caught your eye, and you did a double take. You doubted your eyesight, and the person glared back at you with intense hatred.

Gasping, you recognised your stepsister, not missing the sight of her body littered with new scars, "J-Jinjoo? Is that you?"

Damn, I'll have to begin working on my thesis after releasing this part. The next one is most likely going to take slightly longer than usual, so I apologise in advance!

As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

Tag list (1/7): @huachengsbestie01 @evidive @weedforthoughtz @ssrnghwa @yunnieo @sunnyhokyu @lynnsqueendom @frobin4ever @chwesuh-imnida @thunderous-wolf @itstheghostofmypast @professormingisglasses @deltamoon666 @avantalem @famishalll @yungilia @soobiverse @joongified @scuzmunkie @http-gyu @mentoslol @atinyreads @angel-hyuckie @anxiousskylar @onedumbho3 @narashii @ddaeing @sanstreasure0305 @sohnfile @scarfac3 @dreamingofyeo @puppyminnnie @tinyteezer @vantediary @satsuri3su @mismatchfluffysocks @aliona124754 @bts-army380 @lilactangerine @atinyniki @pay13 @1117promises @xoxkii @st4rcig4r @hikarii02 @nescaffei @xdolls-crownx @ashrocker123 @skzline @minkiflwr @starssongs98 @baeksofty @skz1-4-3 @kawaiikels @madnpan @maoyueze @en-happiness @cheolliehugs @persnyako @startinystay @chngbnwf @fatspecimen @christinerose380 @stfu-rina @kyukyustar @taytayy178 @appleschre @brielle-in-the-galaxy @kamabokogonpachro @laurenwidjaja @yangwonielvrs

Tag list (cont.): see comment/reply section

#edenesth #the way to this heart #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #park seonghwa #ateez seonghwa #arranged marriage au #joseon era #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa x you #ateez fic #historical au

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nosyrobin · 3 months ago

Text

THE WHITE BAT

prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

Warning: blood , canon violence, ooc for Damian(?)

Summary: again the bat fights crime, the bird comes to help. Ending in a bird’s injury, and bat’s protectiveness. Making the relationship bloom even more between the two young heroes.

Gun shots rang out in the alleyway, a swish sound connecting as a criminal falls straight onto their ass.

The knight strides towards their foe, glowing pink eyes as their hand graze the brick walls. Sharp claws, scraping the damned bricks that dare to make any sound other than nails on a chalkboard. The criminal shake before getting up and running making the white bat smile.

“Oh I love it when they run…” they said before they disappeared within the shadows. Smiling their sharp fangs….

Meanwhile Robin, aka Damian was crouching on a roof. Patrol, well more like a sneaked out one as his father try to ban him from patrol until he can get his “act” right. Dick had called it a “rebellious teen phase” making Damian scoff at that. Damian was mostly out on patrol to catch a certain white knight that caught his heart and attention. He hated that he won’t admit that he had secured the white cloak he kept somewhere else.

Okay so maybe he sleep with it some nights (every night) when he wants to think of white knight. But that doesn’t mean he’s that attached to the bat. As he uses his binoculars to scan the area out, that’s when he sees a suspicious person running. But he’s eyes widen when he sees a flash of a white cloak that belonged to a certain knight. His knight. Damian immediately pulled out his grapple hook, ready to meet the person he was destined to meet again.

Back to the bat, they followed the damned criminal. Coming out of the shadows. The shadows belonged to a warehouse, an abandoned looking one as the bat narrowed their pink eyes. Scanning the area, a bright light shined on them. Making them tense as they pushed their cloak off their arms, ready to take on whoever was trying to jump them.

“Hah! The little bat fell for it!” The same criminal said as he smiled with a gold tooth. There were five more guys around, surrounding the young hero who definitely didn’t give a fuck how many there were. They were gonna kick their ass.

As one ran up on the bat, they swiftly dodged the rush and grabbed the crook’s arm. Twisting it before kicking the crook towards another one. As an another enemy was sneaking up behind the white knight, a bat-a-rang slashes their hand that dare tried to touch them.

“Not on my watch.” Robin said as he swooped down and drop kicked the criminal down. “Robin? What are you doing here” the bat says as Robin dusted himself off, immediately putting his back against their as a few more crooks showed up.

“I’m helping you. Isn’t that obvious?” He said with a bat smirk. The white bat laughed out loud, showing their pearly white fangs. “Ah I see…well. Welcome to the show birdy.” The bat says as Robin nodded. They both put their fists up and got to work.

Robin uppercut an enemy before slamming them to his knee, the bat swooped around. Back flipping onto an enemy’s neck and bringing them down to crack their neck on pavement. Smiling as they got up and go to work on the others.

Robin gave a nimble roundhouse kick before you appear above him and gave a nice axe kick. Completing the combo move as you landed gracefully by the bird. It seemed you beat the other up as Robin and you finished his last one. Your cloak covered your body as you looked at the boy wonder. “That was amazing….we should do this next time we meet up. The bat says as they look down at the bird. Robin didn’t say anything other than nodding. The bat nods and goes to walk off.

Meanwhile Robin sucked in his lower lip before grabbing their cloak, prompting the white knight to stop. “Wait….would like to patrol with me? Watch over Gotham, til it’s time for me to go?” He asked softly. The white knight smiled, their pink eyes glowing softly.

“Sure i would—”

Robin’s eyes widen as he immediately jumped in front of you, a shot rang from the air as the bat’s and bird’s ears rang. Robin falls to his knees, making the bat’s eyes widen with fear.

“ROBIN!” Immediately they turn to the person who shot the Batman’s sidekick. It was the criminal from the start of it all. The bat glared as they opened their mouth. A piercing scream came out like a wild tornado at the man. Throwing him across the stone wall of the warehouse.

The man tried to sit up only to get knocked down by a boot to his chest. Blazing pink eyes look at the man with rage as they open their mouth.

“You dare harm him…I shall not be the one to spare your life.” Wide bat wings sprouted from their back. The criminal whimpered as the bat attacked. Leaving screams and blood splattered, but after that was done. There were no traces.

Now it was only Damian moaning in pain and an angry bat’s protectiveness took place. The bat grabbed the boy and head off with a quick leap into the air and onto a roof..

“Fuck” the white knight says, dragging the word as they hopped roof to roof before jumping through an open window of their hide out. Holding the injured bird close to their body.

Lightly putting Damian down as he moans and groans. The bullet wasn’t made to just hurt you, it was made to kill you. And Damian could handle a bullet..or could he? Your thoughts was moving wild as Damian’s eyes were shut tight. Still making noise and gripping onto you as if you would disappear. You shush Damian, lifting his uniform shirt to get a look at the bullet wound.

It wasn’t too deep, but it was stuck. “Sorry Damian…this might hurt you.” You softly say as you used your sharp nails to dig it out. Damian yelled out loudly, making you cringe as you keep digging and digging. The squishy sounds of flesh and his agonizing screams made your heart sink a little. But it ended when you pulled it out perfectly in one piece and started to disinfect the wound.

Damian hissed with slight open eyes now, he felt embarrassed. He could take swords going through his arms by Slade , and practically anything he had to go through when being in league of assassins. But a bullet wound in his stomach that was meant for you.

And somehow he couldn’t handle the pain. That bullet was laced for something that was meant to kill you. But it couldn’t kill him, so he had to jump in front of you and take it. His eyes flutter looking at you, reaching a hand out and touching your cheek.

“You okay?” He asked as he tried to sit up, even if you had just bandaged him up and stitched the wound shut while he was stuck in his thoughts.

“You’re asking if I’m okay after literally taking a bullet for me.. color me stoke..you sure are something birdy..” you said in a low tone, your voice raspy from yelling his hero name as you got up from the bed side. Putting away the med kit. Damian slightly chuckled as he watched you carefully, “of course I have to ask for your wellbeing..we’re…partners..aren’t we?” He asked. He tried to make his tone not so obvious that he was nervous about the fact he said you two were technically friends.

You slowly turned your head around before turning it back at the door out of the room you both were in.

You smirked, “yeah.. I guess we are..”

White bat!reader tag: @minkyungseokie @amber-content @chibiduck

A/N: the more chapters go on, the more longer the story gets…awesome isn’t it?

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seafarersdream · 4 months ago

Note

Could I request Ewan Mitchell X reader :)

Maybe something where they work on set together and he hears that reader likes rock music so they go to a concert together?

Birds of a Feather (Ewan Mitchell x Y/N)

Y/N L/N plays Alys Rivers, but off-screen, it’s Ewan who’s getting bewitched. He thought he’d spark some chemistry for the cameras, but he’s in deeper than he planned. Word count: 4,2k

TW // Strong language and profanities, smoking and alcohol use, mild sexual content.

“Fuck, is that Rage I hear?”

Ewan Mitchell’s voice cut through the noise like a knife. Y/N L/N turned her head, still puffing on her cigarette, her eyebrows shooting up. She pulled one earbud out, letting it dangle against her collarbone.

“Depends,” she said, a teasing grin playing on her lips. “What’s it to you?”

Ewan’s face lit up with a mischievous grin, his eyes bright under the studio lights. “Mate, I’m a sucker for a bit of RATM. Didn’t peg you for a rock fan, though,” he replied, hands shoved casually into the pockets of his worn leather jacket, a faint good ol’ England drizzle making the material glisten.

Y/N chuckled, shaking her head slightly, a hint of amusement in her eyes. “Seriously? You think I’d play a witch in medieval times and not have a thing for rebellious rock?” She took a slow drag from her cigarette, exhaling smoke that curled lazily in the damp Watford air. “I’m disappointed, Ewan. Thought you’d have me figured out by now.”

Ewan stepped closer, his boots crunching on the gravel beneath. The smell of coffee and bacon butties drifted over from the food cart, mixing with the sharp scent of cigarette smoke. The studio lot was buzzing with crew members, some rushing around with props, others laughing in groups, and the usual hum of film equipment humming in the background. But all of that seemed to fade as he locked eyes with her.

“Guess I’ve got a lot to catch up on, yeah?” he said, tilting his head slightly, his voice softer now, almost testing the waters. “Thought we could grab a coffee or something. Get to know each other. You know… build that Aemond and Alys chemistry they’re all banking on.”

Y/N smirked, a flicker of something unreadable in her gaze. “What, you think we need to build chemistry?” she challenged, a playful edge to her tone. “I thought we were just supposed to, I dunno, act.”

Ewan let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “Oh, come on, don’t bullshit me, love. You and I both know this whole on-screen spark thing doesn’t just happen. Gotta work for it.” He took out his own pack of cigarettes, offering one to her. “And who knows, maybe we’ll actually end up liking each other.”

She took the cigarette with a raised eyebrow, tucking it behind her ear for later. “Fine,” she replied. “Coffee sounds good. But if you think I’m gonna pretend to like you just because some big-shot director thinks we should, you’ve got another thing coming.”

Ewan grinned, lighting his cigarette, his blue eyes gleaming with excitement. “That’s what I’m counting on, dove.”

They walked towards the little coffee stand set up near the trailers, the air thick with the smell of rain and the distant rumble of thunder. The crew was still buzzing around, setting up for the next scene, but Ewan only had eyes for her.

“So, you got a favorite Rage song, or is Guerrilla Radio just your go-to for when you’re bored on set?” he asked, genuinely curious.

She shrugged, leaning against the counter as she placed her order. “Depends on my mood. But yeah, that one’s a banger. Bulls on Parade if I’m feeling a bit more… intense.” She shot him a sidelong glance. “What about you, Mitchell? You a poser, or do you have actual taste?”

He laughed, a deep, rumbling sound that seemed to reverberate through the air. “Touché. I’d say Know Your Enemy speaks to me. You know, all that anti-establishment, fuck-the-system vibe. Kind of like me.”

“Wow, deep,” she deadpanned, though her lips twitched into a smirk. “So you’re the rebellious type, huh?”

He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a low, conspiratorial whisper. “Depends on who’s asking, love.”

She felt a spark run down her spine, something electric buzzing in the air between them. “Alright, I’ll bite,” she said, taking her coffee from the barista with a nod. “What’s your deal, Ewan? What’s got you all eager to cozy up to me?”

He took a sip of his coffee, considering his words. “Honestly? You intrigue me. The way you’ve got everyone eating out of your hand on set, but still keep this air of mystery. I want to crack that code.”

Y/N’s smile widened, but her eyes stayed sharp, playful. “Good luck with that. I’m not some open book for you to read, Mitchell. You might find some things you’re not ready for.”

Ewan’s grin only grew, a flicker of excitement dancing in his gaze. “Oh, I’m ready. And I’ve got time. Plenty of time.”

She gave a short, amused laugh. “We’ll see about that. But don’t think I’m easy to impress. You’re gonna have to do better than coffee and rock music trivia.”

He raised his cup in a mock toast. “Challenge accepted, L/N.”

Ewan took another drag from his cigarette, letting the smoke swirl around his lips before exhaling slowly. “So, come on then,” he prodded, his voice carrying a low, teasing lilt. “You can’t drop a Rage song and then just leave it at that. What else are you into? Gotta be more to you than just some classic ‘fuck the man’ anthems.”

Y/N flicked ash off her cigarette, eyeing him with a small, conspiratorial smile. “You’re looking at a die-hard Deftones fan, mate. White Pony is my Bible. I swear by it.” She paused, a flicker of excitement sparking in her eyes. “Got the album cover tattooed on my ribs, actually. Wanna see?”

Ewan’s brows shot up, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “Bloody hell, you’re hardcore,” he said, his voice betraying a hint of admiration. “Yeah, show me. I’m not gonna say no to that.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “Cheeky bastard.” But she lifted the hem of her shirt just a fraction, revealing the tattoo of said pony against her ribcage, the ink standing out against her skin. His eyes traveled over the design, appreciation evident in his expression.

“That’s sick,” he said, leaning in a bit closer, his voice lower now, almost a murmur. “Always had a thing for a girl with a good tat.”

Y/N dropped her shirt back down, feeling the rush of cool air against her skin, but his gaze was still warm on her. “Deftones, huh?” he continued. “Got a favorite track?”

She shrugged, taking a sip of her coffee. “Depends on the day. But Cherry Waves always gets me. There’s just something about that slow, seductive build. It’s like… drowning in sound, in the best way.”

Ewan nodded, his smile widening. “Yeah, I get that. Chino’s voice is like, sex in audio form. Never thought I’d meet someone who’d get that vibe.”

Y/N chuckled, but her eyes were sharp, amused. “And you? What’s your poison, Prince Regent?”

He scratched his jaw, the faint stubble rasping under his nails, a self-deprecating grin spreading across his face. “Ah, I’m a bit more basic, I suppose. Metallica’s my go-to. You’ve probably noticed,” he added, tugging at the faded Metallica t-shirt he was wearing.

She glanced at the shirt, rolling her eyes with a grin. “Subtle. But hey, I can’t blame you. Metallica’s the real deal. Those riffs could wake the dead.”

“Right?” Ewan agreed enthusiastically. “And there’s something about those old-school thrash vibes that just… I dunno, lights a fire in you, you know? Makes you wanna break shit.”

“Or at least headbang until your neck snaps,” Y/N added with a laugh. She leaned back, crossing her arms, her demeanor relaxed. “But come on, be honest. How many Metallica shirts do you actually own?”

He scratched the back of his head, looking slightly sheepish. “Too many, probably. Enough that I could wear a different one every day of the week.”

Y/N shook her head, mock disbelief on her face. “Sheesh, you’re such a fanboy.”

“Oi, don’t knock it,” he shot back, grinning. “At least I’m consistent. Plus, you’ve got a Deftones tattoo. I think we’re both in pretty deep.”

She nodded, conceding the point. “Fair enough. So what do you do when you’re not, y’know, worshipping at the altar of Hetfield?”

He laughed, a soft rumble that seemed to cut through the cold, wet air. “Not much, honestly. Hang out with mates, go to gigs when I can. Read a bit, usually some weird existential stuff that just makes me more confused about life.” He paused, studying her. “What about you?”

She shrugged, looking thoughtful. “Same, really. Love a good gig. I read too, but I’m more into the horror stuff. Stephen King, Shirley Jackson, you know the drill. And, obviously, I smoke way too much.” She waved her cigarette as if to prove a point.

Ewan nodded, a spark of interest in his eyes. “Horror, huh? Never took you for a gore enthusiast.”

“Not gore,” she corrected, leaning in closer, her voice almost conspiratorial. “Psychological. The shit that gets under your skin, makes you think. I’m not about blood and guts; I’m about the mindfuck.”

He blinked, clearly impressed. “Damn. You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

She laughed, a low, throaty sound that sent a shiver down his spine. “I aim to keep people guessing, Mitchell. Keeps life interesting.”

He tilted his head, grinning. “Alright then. How about a deal? I’ll show you my favorite dive bar in Camden, and you can tell me more about how you like to mess with people’s heads. We can drink, play some pool, maybe even argue about whether Deftones or Metallica is the superior band. Fair?”

Y/N leaned back, considering him, a smile slowly spreading across her face. “That’s a dangerous proposition, Ewan. You sure you can handle me?”

He held her gaze, his smile steady, a challenge in his eyes. “Oh, I’m sure, witch. I’m fucking counting on it.”

The space between them felt smaller, more intimate, and the air around them buzzed. Whatever was brewing between them, it wasn’t just for the cameras.

And both of them knew it.

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The rain had let up just enough for them to venture out of the trailers, and now they found themselves huddled under a flimsy awning, kebabs in hand. The smoky scent of grilled meat mixed with the dampness of the air, a comforting aroma against the steady patter of raindrops. Y/N wiped a bit of sauce from her chin with the back of her hand, her eyes fixed on Ewan as he chewed thoughtfully, the wheels in his mind clearly turning.

“So,” Y/N started, around a mouthful of kebab, “this whole Alys and Aemond thing… it’s twisted as fuck, right? Not exactly a love story, more like—”

“More like two leeches feeding off each other,” Ewan finished for her, wiping his mouth with a napkin and nodding. “It’s not the classic star-crossed lovers bullshit. It’s darker… messier. There’s nothing romantic about it.”

Y/N’s lips curved into a small, approving smile. “Exactly. It’s like, Aemond spares her not because he loves her, but because she’s useful, she’s… an asset. And Alys, she’s not some helpless damsel. She’s got her own agenda. She’s in it for the power, the protection. Maybe even a little revenge.”

Ewan took a deep breath, leaning back against the wall, his expression thoughtful. “And then there’s all that shit about her being a witch or enchantress,” he said. “Bastard daughter of Lyonel Strong, maybe from an older generation… probably served as a wet nurse to Harwin and Larys. Could’ve even been around when Lyonel himself was a kid. Some say she bathed in maidens’ blood to stay young. I mean, fuck, that’s some crazy lore to have.”

“Right?” Y/N leaned in closer, her eyes gleaming with excitement. “And we’re supposed to sell this on screen. The idea that she’s at least forty, but looks young as hell, unnaturally young. There’s all these rumors swirling around her. She’s supposed to be this mysterious figure who might be pulling strings in the background, using Aemond as much as he’s using her.”

Ewan nodded, taking another bite of his kebab. “Yeah, that’s the crux of it. They’re both parasites, just leeching off each other. Alys needs Aemond for survival, for the power he brings as a prince, and Aemond… maybe he’s just fucked up enough to be into that, into her mystery, her darkness. But there’s no love. It’s not tender, it’s—”

“—purely transactional,” Y/N interjected, finishing his thought. “He keeps her alive, she gives him… I don’t know, maybe an edge? A sense of power? She’s like a trophy, a spoil of war he doesn’t quite understand but doesn’t want to let go of either.”

Ewan’s eyes sparkled with a strange kind of enthusiasm. “And the weird thing is, that’s exactly what makes it interesting. It’s not some fairytale. It’s raw, it’s real. Like, imagine how we could play that dynamic on screen—two people circling each other, never quite trusting, never fully connecting, but somehow bound together in this fucked-up dance.”

Y/N grinned, her eyes lighting up with the same fire. “Oh, I’m all in. Let’s lean into that. Make the audience uncomfortable. Make them question who’s really in control. Aemond’s got the power, the title, the dragon, but Alys? She’s got her own kind of power. A power that scares him.”

Ewan shifted closer, his shoulder brushing against hers as he leaned in. “Yeah, I see that. Aemond’s not just sparing her because he’s merciful; he’s sparing her because there’s something in her that speaks to the darker parts of him.”

Y/N nodded eagerly. “And Alys—she’s no fool. She knows exactly what she’s doing. She’s playing him, playing this twisted game where she’s both victim and victor. She’s a survivor, and she’ll do whatever it takes to stay alive, even if it means manipulating a prince.”

He laughed softly, his breath misting in the cold air. “It’s almost like they’re two sides of the same fucked-up coin. Both willing to use whatever they’ve got to survive. She’s his spoil of war, but he’s her key to something bigger.”

Y/N tilted her head, her expression thoughtful. “So, how do we show that on screen? How do we make it clear that they’re both… parasites, but also predators in their own right?”

Ewan leaned forward, his voice low and intense. “I think we play with the power dynamic. Like, in one scene, Aemond thinks he’s got her under his thumb, but then there’s a moment—a glance, a whisper, something—that makes him second-guess. Makes the audience second-guess. Is she afraid, or is she playing him? And then in the next scene, she’s the one in control, but there’s always that tension, that threat of violence just under the surface.”

Y/N nodded, her eyes alight with excitement. “Yes, yes. And we need to make it physical too. Not in a sexy way, but in a way that shows their dependence on each other. Like, when they touch, it’s almost painful. It’s not about passion, it’s about possession. And the audience should feel that. Feel the discomfort, the unease.”

Ewan’s grin widened, his excitement palpable. “Fuck, I love this. It’s gonna be wild. People aren’t gonna know whether to hate them, root for them, or just feel fucking sick watching them.”

“Perfect,” Y/N agreed, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Because that’s exactly how it should be. No clear lines, no easy answers. Just two messed-up characters.”

Ewan chuckled, his eyes never leaving hers. “I’ve got a feeling we’re gonna make one hell of a fucked-up power couple on screen, love.”

She smirked, finishing the last bite of her kebab and wiping her hands. “Well, if we’re gonna do this, we better do it right. Let’s give them a show they’ll never forget.”

And just like that, in the middle of a rainy, half-forgotten corner of a studio lot, they laid the groundwork for something undeniably electric. Something that would blur the lines, and the strange, unsettling dance that would soon unfold on screen.

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The neon sign above the dive bar flickered erratically, casting a dim pink glow over the rain-slicked street. Ewan leaned against a brick wall, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, his breath misting in the cool night air. He checked his watch, a crooked grin spreading across his face as he spotted Y/N approaching, her hair damp from the drizzle, a mischievous glint in her eye.

“About time, rockstar,” he called out, pushing off. “Was starting to think you’d chickened out.”

Y/N shot him a mock glare, pulling the collar of her leather jacket tighter around her neck. “Not a fucking chance, Mitchell. I’ve been looking forward to this all week.” She stopped in front of him, her breath visible in the cold. “Besides, I’m dying to see you butcher a Sex Pistols song.”

He laughed. “Oh, I’m gonna butcher it all right, but at least I’ll do it with style.”

When they entered Ewan’s favourite haunt, the place was already alive with noise — a crowd of people spilling out onto the street, laughter and shouts mixing with the sound of music bleeding through the walls. The bar itself was a dingy little hole-in-the-wall joint, the kind of place that reeked of spilled beer, sweat, and stale cigarettes — perfect for a night of raucous fun.

Ewan grabbed her hand without a second thought, pulling her through the throng of people, weaving between groups, dodging spilled drinks and overenthusiastic dancers. His hand felt warm and solid around hers, and she felt a thrill run up her spine as he led her toward the back, where the stage was set up for karaoke.

They found a spot near the bar, grabbed a couple of beers, and settled in to watch the chaos unfold. Someone was already up there belting out Anarchy in the UK, the crowd shouting along, half the lyrics lost in the drunken fervor.

“Alright,” Ewan said, leaning close to her ear to be heard over the noise. “What’s the game plan, then? Are we going full-on punk, or are we gonna scare everyone off with some Deftones?”

Y/N laughed, taking a swig of her beer. “Let’s save the Deftones for when everyone’s had a few more drinks. Gotta build up to that kind of intensity.” She tapped his shoulder with a teasing grin. “But I’m down to start with some Pistols. Pretty Vacant? God Save the Queen? What do you think?”

“Pretty Vacant it is,” Ewan declared, slamming his empty bottle down on the bar. “We’ll go up there, make some noise, and show these amateurs how it’s done.”

A few minutes later, they were on stage, the microphone in Ewan’s hand, and Y/N standing beside him, both of them grinning like idiots. The crowd cheered as the opening chords blared through the speakers, and Ewan launched into the song with a reckless abandon, his voice loud and raw, not giving a damn if he hit the notes or not.

Y/N joined in, her voice harmonizing with his, the two of them bouncing around, pulling ridiculous dance moves and throwing their arms around each other, their laughter spilling over the lyrics. Ewan’s voice cracked on the high notes, but it only made her laugh harder, and she nudged him with her shoulder, causing him to almost drop the mic.

“Oi, careful!” he shouted over the music, his smile wide and infectious.

“What?” she yelled back, still grinning. “Can’t handle a bit of roughhousing, Mitchell?”

He laughed, spinning her around in a playful twirl before pulling her close, their bodies pressed together as they sang, their voices blending into one chaotic sound. The crowd cheered louder, feeding off their energy, clapping and shouting as Ewan and Y/N tore through the song with an unfiltered joy that made everyone in the room feel like they were part of something wild, something free.

When the song ended, they stumbled off stage, breathless and laughing, grabbing fresh beers from the bar. Ewan’s hand found hers again, a reflex now, his thumb brushing against her knuckles.

“You,” he said, panting, “are a fucking riot.”

Y/N raised her bottle in a mock toast. “Right back at ya. Didn’t think you had that much crazy in you, Mitchell.”

He grinned, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Stick with me, dove, and you’ll see plenty more.”

They spent the next few hours hopping back on stage, belting out punk classics, pulling out the most ridiculous dance moves they could think of, egging each other on. At some point, Ewan dropped to his knees, sliding across the sticky floor in a terrible imitation of an 80s rock star, while Y/N howled with laughter, egging him on with chants of “Encore! Encore!”

They took breaks to smoke out back, leaning against the graffitied wall of the bar, their breath mingling with the cold night air, the world spinning around them. Ewan lit a cigarette, passing it to her, their fingers brushing in the exchange.

“Alright,” Y/N said, taking a drag, her voice a little hoarse from all the singing and shouting. “I’ll admit it. You know how to show a girl a good time.”

Ewan’s grin was bright and unapologetic. “Told you, didn’t I? Never should’ve doubted my ability.”

She laughed, flicking ash off the cigarette. “I’m certainly not complaining.”

They smoked in comfortable silence for a moment, the noise from inside spilling out in waves.

Ewan took a final drag and flicked his cigarette away, turning to face her, his expression suddenly a bit more serious, though his eyes still held that glint of mischief. “So, Y/N,” he said, his voice low. “What do you say we make this a regular thing? You and me, beers, bad dancing, and a hell of a lot of noise?”

She smirked, tilting her head slightly. “You offering to be my partner in crime, Mitchell?”

He took a step closer, their faces inches apart now. “I’m offering to be whatever you want, love. As long as it means more nights like this.”

Y/N’s smile softened, her voice almost a whisper. “Careful, Ewan. I might just take you up on that.”

He didn’t hesitate. “Good,” he replied, his voice steady. “Because I was hoping you would.”

And with that, he leaned in, his lips brushing hers in a kiss that tasted of beer, cigarettes, and something new — something neither of them could quite name yet, but both were eager to explore. The night felt endless, the city alive around them.

The sound of the door creaking open was drowned out by the music and drunken shouts pouring from the bar, but the voice that followed cut through the night like a whip crack.

“Oi! Get a fucking room, you two!”

Ewan and Y/N broke apart, breathless and startled, still close enough that their noses brushed. Ewan’s grin turned sheepish as he glanced over Y/N’s shoulder to find a middle-aged man with a scruffy beard and a smirk on his face, a cigarette dangling from his lips. The bartender, Harry, stood there, shaking his head in mock disapproval.

“Christ, Ewan,” Harry drawled, lighting up his smoke with a flick of his lighter. “Have some decency, will ya?”

Ewan laughed, his hand still on Y/N’s waist, a playful glint in his eye. “Can’t help it, mate. Your place has that kind of magic, you know?”

Harry snorted, taking a long drag on his cigarette. “Magic, my arse. More like too many cheap beers and not enough sense.” He nodded at Y/N, eyes crinkling with amusement. “You got your work cut out for you with this one, love. He’s a right handful.”

Y/N grinned, leaning back slightly but not quite letting go of Ewan. “Oh, I’m starting to get that,” she teased, glancing up at Ewan. “But I think I can handle him.”

Ewan chuckled, clearly enjoying himself. “Hey, I’m standing right here, you know.”

Harry gave a mock bow. “Oh, sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt your little love fest. Just came out for a smoke, but if you’re gonna go all Romeo and Juliet on me, at least take it to the alley or something. Don’t need to see any more of your face-sucking than I already have.”

Ewan’s laugh was loud and unapologetic. “Alright, alright, you old bastard, we’ll take it elsewhere. Don’t want to scar you for life.”

Harry grinned, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Too late for that, mate. But do me a favor — keep it PG-13 inside, yeah?”

Y/N gave a mock salute. “We’ll try our best.”

Harry shook his head, still chuckling to himself as he turned back toward the door. “I’ll hold you to that. And Ewan, you owe me a pint for that little show.”

“Deal,” Ewan shot back, still grinning as Harry disappeared back into the bar. He turned to Y/N, his expression softening just a fraction. “Guess we’ve got an audience now, huh?”

Y/N smirked, her voice teasing. “Seems like it. So, what do you say? Wanna go scandalize the rest of the neighborhood, or…?”

Ewan’s grin turned mischievous again. “Lead the way, love. I’m game if you are.”

They left the warm glow of the bar’s back entrance, stepping further into the night, their laughter echoing down the narrow alleyway as they disappeared into the London streets, leaving behind only the faint smell of smoke and the memory of a kiss that promised many more to come.

#ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell x y/n #ewan mitchell x you #ewan mitchell x reader #ewan nation #aemond x alys #aemond targaryen #alys rivers #hotd #hotd fandom #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon #house of the dragon s2

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