#ch: theon / 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒆𝒂 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒎𝒆. ━ ✧

[prodigum]

@theyoungwclf : merman robb swimming up to theon's lil boat in the iron islands ( he may or may not be attempting to sink him )

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐌 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍. theon has some time yet before the storm and takes to the sea in a small fishing boat. the ship is equipped with all he would need to fish , but he finds himself simply enjoying the solitude.

the grey skies have the sea looking dark. couldn't see nearly as far under the water and the mystery of it all reminds theon just how dangerous the sea could be. and powerful. and it's a wonder his house isn't feared as much as they ought to be when they dominate the seas as they do. he supposes he shouldn't wish for war , but he wouldn't mind giving them a taste of salt as a reminder.

his trance is broken by the sound of some disturbance at the hull of his ship. theon is too far out to have to worry about rocks. they're far enough north to not have to worry about sharks regularly , but their appearances still remain a possibility. he stands up from his bench. takes the careful step he needs to take in order to grasp the mast of the boat. he surveys the water with no hint as to what could have hit his boat. there it is again , the sound. another two steps and he's gripping the edge , peering over. eyes squinting in an attempt to make out any sort of shape in the water.

when he sees it , or rather him , he jumps back in fear. ❝ what the hell? ❞ back against the mast now. theon wants to think it was just some poor sod's body that was banging against his boat , but he can't deny that the face he had seen is very much alive. and attached to a swimming body , from what little he could make out. and if he's alive , how is he alive out here? and how long had he been out here? and what a strange way to ask for help. theon is breathing normally again. he grabs a paddle and moves back toward the edge. looks over but doesn't see anything.

❝ is anybody there? ❞ eyebrows furrow. a chill creeps up the back of his neck. ❝ stop fucking around , if you need help then show yourself. ❞

[prodigum]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐎𝐖𝐍 , right down to the degree. theon can feel it in the way her leg melds over his own body. still connected. it's unusually pleasant.

tonight finds itself full of firsts for theon. first time in missionary. ( at least since the days of his youth when he was still a novice ) first time sticking around afterwards. first time his body almost betrayed him by finishing early. sansa stark makes a mess out of him. and he isn't sure if he needs more or less of her.

theon cocks his head in her direction. a lazy smile forms on his lips. he had guessed as much in regard to this being her first , but takes pleasure in hearing her admit it all the same. supposes she wouldn't have been able to lie about it so eloquently , not when the evidence spoke so plainly for itself.

theon grabs one of her hands , lacing their fingers together lazily before bringing it to rest on his chest. the act in itself is so sweet he feels his teeth rotting and yet his body moves to connect with her all on its own. like it's the natural thing to do. he considers her words for a moment. wonders what he should say and how honest he should be. ❝ i can believe it. you still can't hold your liquor. ❞ he doesn't really want to go into the feelings behind it all. doesn't really want to give his mind any room to get imaginative. despite what she might say , theon thinks he knows her well enough to know that she will want nothing more than to move on come morning. he's got thick enough skin and besides , he's not used to anyone sticking around.

❝ and me— , ❞ he pauses. ( ' me , i can believe it. after all, it's what i do. ' a new woman each time... ) he can't bring himself to finish that sentence. this isn't the same as all those other girls and theon knows it. he is by no stretch ready to admit it aloud. he's only admitting it internally out of respect for sansa. he shakes his head. ❝ just admit it , you've always wanted me. ❞ even post-sex , he's aching to get under her skin. ❝ and now that you've had me , you'll just come crawling back for more. ❞ he grins at her fully now. lifts his arm and motions for her to move in closer so he can wrap it around her. pull her to his chest. his eyelids grow heavy but he wouldn't mind sharing the warmth while it lasts. and his bed. robb wouldn't be back until tomorrow afternoon. theon supposes he could put a sock on the door handle just in case.

𝘀𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝗲𝗲𝗹𝘀 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗮 𝗯𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗼𝗳 𝘆𝗮𝗿𝗻 , 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗻𝘂𝗼𝘂𝘀𝗹𝘆 𝘂𝗻𝗿𝗮𝘃𝗲𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗵𝗶𝗺. again and again he unlocks a new level of pleasure she wasn't even aware existed. it makes her resentful , not realizing all that she had been missing out on. her palpable naivety can fuel theon now , for he has managed to undo sansa in ways the erotic romance novels she read talked about. that power was all his , only his , and she's unsure if anyone else could grasp it back from him. she was cursed , with always wanting theon greyjoy , and having to hear about it from him for the rest of their lives. knowing him , he'd never shut up about it. though in this moment , in the absolute throes of ecstasy , sansa decides it's worth it.

an audible gasp leaves her when his fingers begin to explore her nipples , the sensitivity serving as yet another lure for her release. it bubbles within her stomach , searing down to where their two bodies meet in a matching show of pace.  ❝ i can't make any promises, ❞ sansa responds shakily , teeth biting down hard on her lip to prevent her from screaming now , she's almost certain she tastes the metallic of blood. she hates giving theon this satisfaction , but they both leave here knowing the sort of boys she finds herself involved with don't hold a torch. would never , could never.

promises on screams are useless , for as his finger returns to the sensitive bundle of nerves once more, a whimper erupts from her that she wasn't even aware she could make.  ❝ oh my god , theon i ❞ but words fail immediately , as her body begins to tremble beneath him , pleasure washing over her entirely. it felt as she emerged herself into a tub of warm water. she's seeing stars , completely helpless to him. it was remarkable , a sensation she'd spend a lifetime trying to replicate.

sansa is breathless , chest rising and falling as he rolls off of her onto his back. she cannot help but laugh at his words , eyes staring at the ceiling. what they just did is beginning to creep up on her , the reality of this messy situation , and she's torn between embracing the moment , or running in fear. what she desires is not compatible with what is logical , and she decides to linger , for she's not quite ready to close the chapter on this night just yet. besides , she can always blame the alcohol despite sobering up some time ago. she turns on her side to face theon , expression soft. her leg comes to wrap over his waist , sansa still desperate to maintain some type of physical contact. she hated how badly she felt she needed this ──── moving on from this night will grow to be more difficult than she cares to admit.

❝ so , that's what an orgasm is.. ❞ sansa muses , a breathy laugh accompanying her words. she pauses for a second , looking over at theon. her laugh transforms into a hysterics of sorts. ❝ i can't believe we just did that. ❞ her head comes to lay on his chest , laughter never quite subsiding. ❝ i mean it's us, that's crazy. it's crazy, right? ❞ maybe they had finally figured out what would happen if they stopped arguing for five minutes , though she's sure this isn't the answer robb was looking for when he has posed them this question.

[prodigum]

@winterreigned — what is happening between us? / sansa & theon

𝐌𝐀𝐘𝐁𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐇. some sort of deliverance , only a little less holy. for theon , it's a river. he's going against the current. the water is clean and it isn't unpleasant , in so many words. it isn't easy , either.

and despite all the swimming lessons of his youth , he finds himself drowning. drowning in the red of her hair. drowning in her eyes. drowning in the warmth that she gives him , so wholly. he has loved her for longer than he can remember. can't quite attribute it to his youth , for he was bigger than his own self back then. but doesn't quite attribute it to circumstance , either. it's something slow and meaningful. turning of the fall leaves , or something. scheduled. bound to happen and bound to exist — and the world does move , always , at its own pace.

and once again , theon finds himself in sansa's chambers after the sun has set. long after dinner has finished and shortly after the time where one would return to their own chambers. late enough for suspicion and yet not late enough to consider the evening at its end. and mostly they would talk — about everything and about nothing all at once. memories of their childhood. everything they each thought they would be. and each making a point to avoid a certain span of time in their own histories. they are , ever , on the same page. quill and ink included.

and each night they drift , ever so slightly , toward one another. and tonight he sits on the foot of her bed. and something about his intentions are so clear. and so careful. and he can only hope he has read her correctly in all the previous days. all the passing looks and intimate nights. and of course , there's always fear. would she accept him? and where would they go from there? and would he be enough and would he be something infinitesimal or something lasting? could he ever be her future? unlikely. and even so , he persists.

theon moves halfway up her bed. places a hand over hers. breathes in steady strides , hoping that his own chest might fill with the correct disposition to navigate his future with any shred of success. ❝ i cannot speak for you , ❞ a pause. dropping formalities feels wrong and yet he has learned to speak it , regardless. he leans forward , face close to hers. it's comfortable. it's slow — he knows she deserves more now. deserves more than the shell of himself can give and yet he would be a fool not to chase. ❝ but i would have you here , if you would take me. now , and every night for as long as i should live. ❞

[prodigum]

@winterreigned : “Look at us… we are basically a couple already.” / sansa & theon + arranged marriage au

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐀 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐆𝐄 , 𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐈𝐓 — becoming a permanent part of the stark family. he and sansa are close in age and though they did not always get a long , theon grew up thinking that should the time ever come when ned would arrange for them to wed , he would offer his hand willingly.

their engagement has been formally and officially announced to the realm. many see it as a means to keep the iron islands subdued. theon is not stupid , he knows the advantage this marriage will give the crown over his father. he has lived his whole life being the same sort of advantage. and yet he cannot find it within himself to be overly bothered by the fact. once a WARD — now family. and soon , when they have children of their own , blood.

they are taking their meals together , now. an act of closeness likely enforced in hopes to foster the real thing. and when breakfast is over , she suggests to him a walk about the grounds. he offers his arm for her to take , knowing at least the basics of how to be a gentleman. and though he , and probably she as well , cannot deny how much of an act the whole thing feels ; theon does not detest it. he wouldn't admit that to anyone , especially not jon and robb when they tease him about it. saying that he got stuck with sansa. his laugh was forced at that.

he looks over to her as she speaks , offering up a smirk. ❝ i can already hear the ladies of winterfell with their gossip. ❞ a pause. ❝ you heard me right. arm in arm! ❞ he mocks in an old woman's voice. then he leans in closer so than only she might hear him. ❝ we should give them something to really gossip about. ❞ theon considers the possibilities. a ruffled skirt or his shirt on backwards after emerging from a broom closet. he doubts she'd agree to that , but he gets a kick out of it anyway. ❝ some of that blush of yours on my shirt collar would send those old bats into a frenzy. ❞

[prodigum]

@winterreigned did not ask but she received - from theon

𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐀 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐄 theon could hear the waves call him home. the pull in and out. all brisk and feeling of morning and so uniform as he should be. and at some point, when the winter matured, he ceased to hear them. in their place was left some sort of beating. messier than the waves - less consistent and somehow with more longing. really called him home. paws against the dirt. ( the sea birthed you and salt formed you :: but oh you were made from the dirt and from the snow and from everything feral and snarling. )

his chin in the crook of her shoulder feels as much as home as he had ever felt. a conclusion of years lost and gain and wept and stolen. he had asked to come home and she had welcome him. home :: where he had reaped and sowed and cried and in more ways than one, he had felt. good, bad, lovely, and all that sleeps in between. [ the captive that you were - your blame was misplaced. home was here and not there. the chains were there and not here. and you were young - and no one, alive, blames you except yourself. ]

only a few nights later he finds himself slouched over dinner beside her. the last one? likely they both thought it so. and where else to meet his end but where his life :: the one that mattered :: began? colder than he remembered - maybe that was some lingering vengeance. gladly would his cheeks eat the frost for the rest of his days. ( the rocks of the sea took more than he knew how, in so many words and fashions, to give - but the winter only took in gentle strides which he spent his youth learning. 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎? 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊����𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐? 𝚌𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚎 ;; 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚘𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚗𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚠𝚒𝚙𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚌𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚕𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚌𝚎𝚊𝚗, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚎𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚍, 𝚜𝚘 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚢, and so far and won't you, in all your bitterness, love me for what i have given you? in time, you will love me. )

theon looks up from his bowl into the fire. moments pass and he looks to his right, eyes anywhere but there. " if we die tomorrow, " he starts - hardly a sore subject: they had both, side by side, looked death in the face once before. " know i was glad to die in my home. beside you. "

[prodigum]

@theyoungwclf : Theon's reaction to Robb dying in a fire in a modern AU / robb & theon

𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃𝐍'𝐓 𝐁𝐄 𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐅𝐀𝐒𝐓. he isn't quite the pinnacle of safety on a good day , but even so he knows he treads a dangerous line. and even so his foot is heavy on the pedal. his mind is a dam — refusing to break until certainty allows.

robb had been late. or perhaps , theon thought at the time , had decided not to show at all. it hadn't been a big deal. years ago they had made a deal , of sorts. shoot the other a text when they were heading to their spot. it isn't so much obligation that provokes the receiver of the news to join the other. solidarity , maybe. tradition , maybe. the holiness of their own space , might be. either way , theon could always count on robb to show. and robb could expect the same in reverse. except tonight , and theon did not hold it against him. after all , it had been last minute. a fight with his father had him turn heel and practically run to their spot in the park where they first met. the same bench every time. and it isn't until theon is sitting on the bench that he texts robb. and after an hour , he's cooled off enough and certain the other won't show.

and there is something harrowing about how fast theon picks up his phone , on the way back home , when he sees jon on the caller id. knows that jon wouldn't call him over nothing. knows that it's odd robb did not show and knows that he should give him some sort of leniency , but his stomach drops all the same. there's been a fire at the house. you should get over here. it's vague it his voice sounds hollow. and perhaps it is just that — hollow. but theon can't help but feel that it's full of implications and his brain begins to build up scenarios. and it's all too much.

theon sees the flashing red lights as soon as he turns on their street. it's all he can do to keep his insides where they should be. he pulls up to the curb. stops the car. slams the door on his way out. only manages a few steps before stopping. he sees cat. sees rickon attached to her leg. sees jon hugging arya. sees sansa behind them. knows that ned is away for work. sees two stretchers with tarps covering the bodies. sorely , the math checks out. the evidence follows. one tarp outline is smaller than the other. an adult and a child. his feet find enough spark to move forward once again , making their way to the larger outlined stretcher. he looks up at the emt closest by. hate runs rampant in his veins. wants to grab him by the shirt. wants to punch him until he sees teeth flying. in all shock of the moment , theon settles for words. ❝ why aren't you doing anything? ❞ eyebrows furrow. fists clench. anger exposes itself in whatever pitiful form it can. ❝ don't just stand there , help him! ❞ theon glances to the covered body and back to the emt. he's only met with a sorry look. there's nothing more we can do , sir. ❝ nothing?? you're telling me you just let him— ❞ no , he won't say it.

there's something ugly in the pit of his chest. black and twisted and aching. theon drops to his knees before the tarp. rips it half off in a moment of desperation. ( it's you but it doesn't look like you. not the right lip color. and too stern of an expression. it isn't you. but if you just return to yourself. come back and get off this stretcher and walk away , god damnit. walk away. ) theon puts one hand over the other on robb's chest. he knows fuck all about cpr but he's pushing down on his chest in strides all the same. ❝ don't be so dramatic. ❞ he feels a hand on his elbow , pulling him away. he can't , not yet. not before he lends his own breath to him. at least let him give that. he leans over robb's face , preparing for the next step of cpr. there's another pause. theon feels a permanence in the stillness of robb's body. he can't afford to lose him. can't afford for this to be reality. and — where has the red of his cheeks gone? theon could always get them to turn color so quickly. and yet here he is , body half splayed upon robb's and nothing but pale flesh.

he leans down , commits to the act. only finishes it with a soft kiss on his lips. he should have kissed him more. pride aside. everything aside , he should have fucking kissed him more and loved him harder and told him more often. and he doesn't have the time or energy to ponder whether karma has dealt a hand in this. he parts their lips for the last time. looks up at the emt who has stopped trying to pull him off of robb and who is currently just looking at him with some sad expression. theon gets up. turns and heads toward his car. ignores his name being called. jon? sansa? the background noise all fades into a single , solemn note. gets in his car and sits for a few minutes. stares off at nothing in particular.

this isn't real. theon cranks his car. decides that he'll go back home. maybe drink himself to sleep. tomorrow , things will be normal.

[prodigum]

@hexsreality said: ❛ get the hell away from me. ❜ / wanda & theon

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐇 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐌 like a septa's reprimanding on his wrists. and theon treats it as such — no reverence and instilling in him only a desire to push forward.

he picks up speed , chasing after her. he certainly doesn't take her answer as a no. it's not a yes , but something in between. hopeful , as he would like to call it in all of his many shades of delusion. youth wears him like a winter coat.

❝ never met a man of the iron islands , have you? ❞ a guess , but a good one , he would wager. his people weren't much for land travel. and even by sea , dorne exists so far away. ❝ and not just any man. i'll wear the driftwood crown one day. ❞ his fathers' legacy flows through his own blue veins like his own blood. if it is misplaced , he cannot tell.

[prodigum]

@winterreigned said: You are the bane of my existence, and the object of all my desires. / sansa & theon

𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐈𝐓 𝐈𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇 𝐓𝐈𝐃𝐄. a phenomenon so natural theon couldn't recede back into the depths if he tried. oh — and he has tried. has shoved his chest back down his throat so often it has become a ritual. and nothing he does , anymore , can save him.

morning or night. a gentle snow or gray , cloudy skies. even when the sun decides to show its rare face in winterfell — he is thinking of her. he curses himself a thousand times , and his heart a thousand more. when lord stark had first declared them to be wed , theon had felt indifferent. thought that it might , at least , be easy. that they would pay each other no mind. that he could be her husband during the day and visit wintertown during the night. and yet he cannot remember the last time his feet carried him so far south. before their union , he knows. fear of domestication has , on many occasions , reared its ugly head. and even so , his feet have found him only as far as the courtyard. a dozen bullseyes could not bring his mind to stray from thoughts of her. the ale even seems to have his insides swell with something warm and electrifying he begins to wonder what he has become?

he feels himself to be at the edge of conflict , body scrambling to stay aboard and heart telling him to put his head back and let go. to wade in the warmth of it all. and the idea tempts him. he doesn't know how much longer he can handle the looks. the feigned hatefulness. eyes unfaltering from one another. faces that wind up so close during an argument that he forgets what stupid reason they are arguing. and what if he no longer holds back all that swells within him when he notices the curve of her lips? the curves of her hips? the way her hair flows down her back like white hot waves? the sound of her laugh? the twitch of her eyebrow when she's angry at him — and she's often angry at him. she's all-consuming and her words make him think , for the first time , that she might feel the same.

theon has half a mind to turn around , slamming the door behind him. but the other half has latched onto every word she's said. latched on with a vengeance and no sign of a loosening grip. if he could flip a coin , he would. and if the coin lands on leave? —– theon supposes the lurch in his chest answers that question for him.

he turns heel toward her , places a hand on the small of her back and pulls her close. ❝ shut up and kiss me. ❞ theon doesn't waste a moment before his lips are on hers with a passion he has yet to feel in a kiss alone. he finds himself lacking in any regret.

[prodigum]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌 looks silky in the fading light of day. not unlike the ocean — something he could get lost in. he wonders what the equivalent would be to lying face up and letting the waves take him away. maybe a sort of burial , he thinks. the thought makes him shiver.

theon is , for once , grateful for the peace. grateful for the solace that their shared spot brings. grateful he was right in thinking robb would be here. he would like to think he has a good grasp on robb's head. a mental channel formed long ago and strengthened over the years. or perhaps he just spares robb his attention where he wouldn't elsewhere. but maybe it's the former , because theon thinks that robb might feel the same toward him. as if proof of such , robb hits the nail on the head , knows theon too well. or , at least , knows him well on a good day. today.....it isn't bad. off , maybe. the original intentions for his evening were wintertown. nothing out of the ordinary and every bit expected of him , he supposes.

except tonight isn't filled with women. no , not when his best friend spent all of dinner avoiding eye contact. not when he had that expression on his face. no , that expression did not even let theon reach the main gate before turning heel. theon doesn't feel targeted by robb's mood. doesn't feel as though he is responsible for the mood itself. he does , however , feel like it's some duty of himself to seek him out. to be by his side. a tug in his chest. he has been , for as long as he can remember , some celestial body orbiting robb. it's a set path and it's some doing of the universe and he wouldn't have it any other way. theon supposes that is just what it's like to have a best friend. supposes anyone else would feel the same way.

theon bumps robb's arm back. smiles at him. ❝ sure did. now that you've got your special lessons , i'm stuck with snow all day. ❞ his tone alone indicates how he feels about that development. after a moment , his smile fades. he stiffens a little.

❝ what's gotten into you? ❞ theon asks , keeping his tone light enough to convey the fact that he genuinely cared about the answer despite a lack of sensitivity. ( scratch what he thought earlier about reading robb's mind. theon is at a loss currently. not sure where robb's mind is and what wintertown has to do with it. ) ❝ what's wrong with wintertown? can't imagine any girl down there doing you wrong. ❞

misc prompts / accepting / @prodigum: i wanted to be closer to you.

Another day of lessons and notions bore into his brain as heir and Robb was ready to run off into the Wolfswood and never return. He was delighted to learn how to be like his father, but the information was never ending and he felt like an overworked horse pulling a much too large carriage. It was why by the time the day was nearly over and he sat around the table for supper and poked at his meal, cobalt gaze glaring into stew that he promptly excused himself and disappeared into an overlook of Winterfell's keep near the back. Less guards, less people in general. He had found the spot with Theon and Jon what seemed like a lifetime ago, the three of them, or a pair of them or sometimes just himself would sit on the ledge and look out upon the vast forest and where the moon and the stars were their only company.

He was far too busy fumbling through his thoughts that when Theon sat beside him he nearly startles, glancing over at his friend with an alarmed expression. Theon's words immediately melt away any chastisement from his lips in favor of the slightest of curves upwards. Of course Theon had noticed his demeanor in the dining hall, Robb had felt his eyes on him, but he refused to look up, fearing the other would make him laugh and ruin his perfectly foul mood, so much for that, his spirits were already lifted just from Theon's presence, and the fact that his heart had begun thumping louder in his ears the moment he arrived wasn't lost on the young lord.

"Thanks... miss me today?" He jests, bumping arms with Theon in an effort to change the subject from his insecurities that he had no right to have. Theon couldn't even return home to be lord of the Iron Islands, what right did Robb have to complain? Why dwell on terrifying thoughts of living up to his father when he can focus on the terrifying thoughts of why his cheeks warm and he feels butterflies whenever Theon laughs? That was far more scarier than any expectation weighing on his shoulders.

"Where were you even? Wintertown? Did you... visit the women again?" He hides the stab of... uneasiness he felt whenever Theon retuned to boist about his latest conquest. If Theon ever picked up on it he never said a word, and Robb was grateful for that, let his friend presume he was a prudish lord and not that there was something else going on just beneath the surface. Robb couldn't even acknowledge it, just bury it further each time he got lost in the other's eyes.

"Actually... forget I asked."

[prodigum]

@burnnouts :: prompt ❛ are you happy here with me? ❜ // robb

𝐏𝐔𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐔𝐏 𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐓 and you can hear the ocean singing. all in strides — foamy and crashing. and if you touched his skin , you just might feel the salt. ( the ocean never leaves him , not miles from the shore and not in the dead of winter. )

if there is one art theon has crafted , in all of his years , it is the art of lying. something about growing up a prisoner in a home much more hospitable than your own does that to you. brain says that you should be happy. grateful. it probably isn't wrong. but his heart does not fail him // does not hide the truth. and , at the end of each day , theon finds it in himself to make robb the exception. finds the strength of heart to separate him from his written past , his present , and his unforeseeable future. and whether he is better or worse for it , theon does not know.

❝ i told you back in winterfell, ❞ he starts, eyebrows furrowed with purpose. feet planted a little less firmly than they were back then. ❝ i'll follow you into battle. ❞ lips draw into a line , straight and with meaning. and he does mean it. his blood has acclimated to the cold. runs through his veins and tells him that he is where he is supposed to be. and he believes it , the blood of himself. he believes it , but not without thinking of his mother. and his father , perhaps less fondly but not without a heavy longing. and theon comes to the conclusion that half-truths are his best bet here. doesn't want to forget about who he really is. doesn't want to lose what he is becoming.

❝ i'll see it through with you. ❞

[prodigum]

@theyoungwclf : “You have the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen.” / robb & theon

𝐈𝐓 𝐈𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 , 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐀𝐂𝐘 𝐎𝐅 𝐑𝐎𝐁𝐁'𝐒 𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 , that theon feels the hunger really start to consume him. DESIRE , yes , but more correctly hunger — the want and the need both at once.

how many weeks had they been scraping at the edges of intimacy? the days are long and full of travel. planning. scouting. robb's time , of course , has been occupied much more than theon's. he finds ways to be busy and the both of them find ways to exist in each other's presence despite the demands of war. theon had swore an oath — now and always. and so the DAYS are filled with whatever commands he is given. and the NIGHTS are spent remembering who they are under all the armor.

war never pauses but here , it fades into the background. his attention is elsewhere. on the curve of robb's lips. the muscles of his back when he changes into his night clothes. those curls that make him appear closer to a GOD than a human. the hunger isn't new. theon can't quite remember when it first started. though he has yet to act upon it , he has not done anything to suppress it either. he feels silly for it. plagued by thoughts of skin against skin all while robb is plagued by a war. he cannot escape his own character , not even now.

the silence had treated them well enough. filled the air between them with something almost peaceful and yet when it is broken , theon finds the same air abruptly leaving his lungs. causing him to pause and restart his own breathing. only a few moments pass before he returns to himself. ❝ do i , stark? ❞ theon walks over to where robb has been standing at the head of the wartable. takes a wolf shaped piece from robb's hands and tosses it to the side of the map on the table. separates robb from the table by sliding in between the two. his heart is beating faster than normal and he's running on EMPTY. craves the one thing that can leave his hunger satiated.

theon places a hand against robb's chest. fingers play with the undone lacing of his shirt. he leans in close before he parts his lips to speak again. ❝ what else do you like about me? ❞

[prodigum]

𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐒 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐀 𝐑𝐄𝐉𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐌. theon feels himself some sorry second-hand son. and perhaps it is what he deserves for being away from it all for so long and perhaps it is some deeper punishment. perhaps some revelation , too. and he is sorry for it all.

❝ i'll be fine , sister , ❞ he bites back , still unused to the word. and yet his own blood runs thick and warm and salty in her presence. they are both born of the sea and theon is not sure if they are both better or worse for it. he leans over his bed and wretches into the bucket. feels exposed and embarrassed , even in the sight of his own sister. ❝ i have to be. i'm a greyjoy. ❞ he holds onto those words as he slams his back against the mattress. breathes in deeply through his own nostrils.

I don’t need mothering. - for asha from theon! asked by @prodigum

"You'll suffer it." Asha said flatly, still pinning Theon to the bed with an easy hand. They were on their way back to the Iron Islands with him, and it seemed the boy had lost all abilities to be on a ship. "If the Starks had been smart they would've ensured you wouldn't be like this."

He needed to rest if he wanted to overcome this ship-sickness

[prodigum]

𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐆𝐎 𝐓𝐎 𝐖𝐀𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐓. peeking out through fabric — all soft and hinting at the color of sunrise and fueling every one of his desires. she is HELEN as far as theon is concerned. and all his forces are at the ready.

in the small confines of her dorm , he is eternally hers. privacy granting him some stubborn sort of permission to act on the innate desires of his being. and yet all of that which he feels for her cannot be compacted into such a description. the inclinations of youth alone do not fill his chest with bath water running over the ledge. do not spill the floor of him with something warm and heavy and hard to erase. yes — ETERNAL in all her rights.

theon sits up more stiffly. relaxation struggles to find him here. BOTHERED and in denial. he is nothing more than a pawn on her board and yet she remains unaware of her full influence over him. or perhaps too GOOD to make use of it. ( and gods , she is good. and not just prim and proper , but down to her core. autumn and winter and burning and freezing and theon exists in the cold hues of her eyes and sometimes they are - the both of them , just color and temperature and one thing melds into the next. ) he does not , anymore , know who he is apart from her.

YES — his existence beyond the walls of this room FADES. and he is subject to her first and his own desires second. eyes stuck on the small of her back. imagine it in some other position. guilt doesn't phase him. not now. he gets up off her bed , slow and decidedly. walks over to sansa. a hand runs down the length of her hair. he couldn't keep them off now , if he tried. he grabs her wrist , pulling her up. his fingers graze all over the fabric of her dress. less revealing , sure. but enough to have him wandering. eyes and fingers and LONGING.

he leans in , close enough for breath to be hot on her ear. ❝ it's too bad i'm not pretty , ❞ he starts. and once a wave pulls back from the shore - can it really stop? the answer is NO- it crashes all the same. ❝ i could be your date. you could show me off. and afterwards , i'd take you home. have you screaming my name. ❞ he pulls back. a hand grasps her chin. forces her to look him in the eyes. ❝ what a shame. ❞

𝗶𝘁 𝗶𝘀 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝘀𝗼 𝘀𝗶𝗰𝗸𝗹𝘆 𝘀𝘄𝗲𝗲𝘁 , 𝗿𝗼𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗻 𝘁𝗲𝗲𝘁𝗵 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘂𝗽𝘀𝗲𝘁 𝗯𝗲𝗹𝗹𝗶𝗲𝘀. the domesticity of it all , the simplicity. this was just sex , meaningless , nothing more. that is what she will tell herself as the butterflies are unleashed in her stomach , the air is sucked from her lungs , and the ability to stand is growing harder and harder with each ticking moment. victory should be certain , a feeling of superiority should be appearing. yet , this is not what sansa is feeling. all that she can compare it to is needing glasses , the world blurry and distant , then the second you wear those damned lenses , it is all crystal clear. in this moment , the world is starting to grow clear ; her stomach threatens to spill her dinner.

she has known theon for as long as she can remember. with this , she knows theon , perhaps better than she cares to admit. he doesn't do relationships , he doesn't do.. whatever this is. sansa has far surpassed conquering his desire for sex. she suspects , perhaps , this could be even more. the twirling , kisses to her neck , the lingering eyes. it is more than any boyfriend of hers had given her , and if theon truly wanted sex , well ( she hates to admit it ) they would be having sex right here , right now. but no , he's watching her eagerly , form coming to make due in her bed. even his remarks , it causes goosebumps to break out on flesh , the thought of what this all could be... it sends alarms blaring in sansa's brain , yet she does not have the mind to stop them.

there's a split second decision to be made here. have him zip up her dress , then immediately have sex. try on another one ... perhaps pretend that this could be more than it was. the two of them could never be together , it would take a earth stopping miracle. despite complications of feelings ( at this point she's assuming , or more so hoping ) being mutual , sansa knows it will never leave this little bubble. a pocket of air where only the two of them can breathe , where it is not air that's essential for survival , but the touch of one another's skin , taste of their lips... she physically shakes these thoughts away. it is selfish , it is depriving both of them for what he really came here for , but she wants this more than she cares to admit. despite being in a handful of relationships , none of them had this. a connection , pure , genuine .. perhaps , they were all superficial , status and appearances. this right here , it may be the realest thing she'll get in her life. this scares sansa , worries her , but she will not turn it away while it's quite literally banging upon her door.

❝ this one isn't shorter , but it does have these little cut outs on the sides, ❞ she speaks , knowing the design of her dress matters little to him. though this whole charade has her spiraling and desperate for words. sansa pulls the black fabric up , making a show of not needing assistance for the zipper. ( just a little longer , she wants to linger in this just a little longer ). ❝ see? ❞ her fingers graze over the cutouts over her figure. ❝ you know , we get to bring a date to these things.. ❞ the words leave her before she can even think about it. sansa turns to face the other way , not letting him see her face as she processes the utter stupidity that leaves her lips. ❝ just waiting on the pretty boys to flock , but no such luck. ❞ at this rate , she should have world's biggest moron tattooed on her face. ❝ shoes , i need the perfect shoes. ❞ in a desperate attempt to change the subject , she rushes to her closet , kneeling down going through her shoe rack. sansa will not allow theon to see how she was spiraling so harshly.

[prodigum]

𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍. she pulls him close and pushes him away. his movements all a product of her own doing. her own choice and whims. he is not a patient man , but theon knows how to navigate the waves. when to row and when to let the current carry him.

his hopes are raised when she calls out to him. and when she gets down on her knees , theon wonders how it is he WON so easily this time. she does not even allow him a moment long enough to consider. sansa goes right past him to fetch something behind him. yes - now that is more believable. there would be no easy victories , not yet at least. not while they both had FIGHT left in them still.

somehow the idea of her playing dress up for him is appealing. it's only because it's her —  she is the common denominator in all these new REVELATIONS theon has been having about himself over the past week. it would be easy to grow used to new forms of intimacy. he has shied away from it for most of his life. no longer can he follow his longtime philosophy of ' take what you want and leave ' simply because she will always leave him wanting MORE even when he has had plenty. or perhaps less simple is the desire to stay. even on a day where sansa could offer him nothing more than her distant company , theon would find himself longing every inch given.

theon watches her change. watches her bare her skin before him. watches the elegant cloth of her dress slide up her legs. can't help but make himself a PART of the act. he slides behind her and zips up her dress slowly. lowers his head , places his lips at the crook of one of her shoulder. here , he breathes in the scent of her. exhales slowly. presses a kiss to her skin. he places a hand on her shoulder and grazes over her skin from shoulder to hand. grabs her hand in his. backs up and spins her around , giving her entire body a thorough inspection —  more thorough , perhaps , than needed in order to pass judgement on the dress. but he is full of GREED all over , his eyes are not spared of this vice.

❝ i don't know ... ❞ theon muses , feigning mild disapproval. bites his lip as he does so. ❝ i think it could be shorter. ❞ eyes linger on the dress a few moments more before returning to her face. ❝ let's see the next one , then. ❞ he takes his place back on her bed , eagerly awaiting the continuation of her show. ❝ you're on your own with the zipper this time. if i help you out of that dress , i'm afraid i won't let you cover back up again. ❞

𝗮 𝗺𝗮𝘁𝗰𝗵 𝗰𝗮𝗻 𝗼𝗻𝗹𝘆 𝗯𝘂𝗿𝗻 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘀𝗼 𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗴 , that is how she sees this. eventually whatever spark managed to catch would fade , sansa is certain of this. it is laughable , truly , that she had slept with theon. the pair of them were the least compatible beings on this earth , oil and vinegar , sunshine and rain , she could go on and on. yet , when she urges herself to laugh about the insanity of the situation she's found herself in , her body betrays her. it tells her the cold , hard , bitter truth: she slept with theon greyjoy , she liked sleeping with theon greyjoy , and she will continue to fall back into his bed again and again.

stubbornness will be her downfall. sansa wants him , even if she will act otherwise. all she needs is for him to beg , it will be a nice cushion for her ego as she falls back beneath sheets. his lips taunt her , memories haunt her , plague her with a feeling that she knows will be hard to replicate. blue eyes watch him , lingering over his hands that roamed her body , ventured to places that had yet to have been explored. it's too much , though before she can figure out a way to find air under the suffocation of theon , he goes and smothers her more ── though this time she is truly hopeless.

a harsh breath is sucked in , eyes afraid to blink in fear they'll miss even a moment of his proximity. he is so close , and what is to stop her from simply closing the gap? gods know he wouldn't reject her , he came here for this reason after all. yet , her damn pride is the biggest wedge between. it takes up every space and crevice , almost like a bridge that prevents her from crossing to him. it's getting dangerously close to sansa becoming the demolitioner , desperate to crumble this fictitious bridge. theon , however , seems to take that role on for himself. the second he pulls away she feels his absence , her waist hot from his touch. he goes to leave , and sansa worries her obstinance has cost her him.

❝ wait ! ❞ the words leave her lips before she can even dwell on them. her body once more betrays her , wanting him more than her brain would allow. in panic of showing desperation , sansa thinks to what she can say to remedy this. to give him just enough to get him to stay , without having to be the one who gives in to temptation. ❝ i mean , you've come all this way .. ❞ it's a lame recovery , but she turns to walk towards him by the door all the same. her expression reads defeat , though something behind theon catches her eye , and maybe , just maybe , she will once more be the victor in this little game.

her eyes lock onto him , echoes of him saying just how pretty she'd be on her knees ring in her head. if he cooperated , maybe he truly could see that for himself , but for now , he'd get a small taste. her hands move to the hair tie that is wrapped around her wrist , they work to use it to loop strands of red locks into a pony tail , sansa falling to her knees while she did such. only a fool wouldn't realize her implications , tongue swiping along her bottom lip sells this better than anything else. she leans forward , deliberately moving towards him , though at the last second leans past to grab a package behind him. blue eyes have yet to leave his , a smirk growing on her face.

❝ i started ordering dresses for the sorority gala next month. margaery says they're far too skimpy for the event , which really must mean they are coming from her... ❞ she trails off , intentionally biting at her lip. ❝ i was hoping you'd let me try them on for you for your opinion. ❞ sansa stands suddenly , handing him the tshirt she was wearing only moments ago. she walks a few steps back , removing one of the dresses from her bag , beginning to change. ❝ besides , you really seem to know what those pretty boys would like. i'll have to find one to fill my bed , as you so kindly put it. you may as well help me do it. ❞ it was a dig for her own selfish reasons , but hopefully one that gets her point across. she's not interested in screwing around with them , theon and only theon should get that part of her. that sudden realization makes her sick.

[prodigum]

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎𝐍 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐒: him or her? none of this existed before tonight. or maybe it has all just been masks , but he has to wonder how it's possible to wear one for so long. or maybe he's just drunk and doesn't know a damn thing.

there isn't a good word to describe himself. womanizer isn't quite right , he's not that bad. might call himself a lady's man if his best friend didn't already own that title. and maybe there isn't just one word to describe him other than his own name. yes , he enjoys the company of women. often. and yes , he avoids commitment at all costs. it's generally how he chooses women — seeks out the ones who value it as little as he does. it's a fair system. it's done him good for as long as he can remember. hasn't felt like he's wanting for anything. but something about this night makes him feel like this isn't disposable. a warning in his gut — if he proceeds , it will follow him to the next day. and even his drunk self finds that thought terrifying.

and perhaps he would have stopped except that when the moment her hand makes contact with his arms , a fire is set. the flames rise quickly and they spread. she is the fuel and he is , always , ready to burn. and the sansa he always thought he knew might as well be ashes by now. still there somewhere , he knows this. and in the back of his mind knows that he will know it more clearly in the morning. but right now she is her own person in his eyes. fiery and beautiful and a challenge. in this moment , she couldn't embody his type more if she tries. ( or so he believes. )

she's playing a dangerous game and he loves competition. thinks he's seen enough of her to know that it might be a bluff. an alcohol induced bluff , if that. and he's ready to call it. theon figures he wins either way. either wins the game they're playing or if he's wrong...he stops his train of thought. he shouldn't think of her as prize. what would robb say about that? and what would he say about any of this? he can admit the thought scares him. and the thought also stokes the fire. and he supposes if neither of them concedes then the both of them will just have to burn out together.

❝ that seems fair. ❞ he holds eye contact. honeyed words — he is laying it on thick. of course , theon greyjoy has never been known to practice subtlety. ❝ but what if what i want is already here? ❞ an eyebrow raises. he brings his face closer to hers as best he can without use of his own arms. he manages to slip one arm loose with ease. brings it to her face , tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. ( which he soon realizes is futile. there's so much of it he's drowning. not unwillingly. ) the action itself is characteristically smooth , but theon begins to wonder if he might choke on the sweetness. ❝ and no , i don't mean ramen. ❞

𝐈𝐓 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐒 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐀 𝐁𝐈𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐑𝐔𝐅𝐅𝐋𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐒. sansa stark prides herself on her ability to remain composed. she's a planner, truly. she foresees events, determined to anticipate anything that can occur, any surprises, any emotions. truthfully, even when she drinks, sansa takes just enough to be able to let loose, though never enough to lose control. sansa stark is always in control ──── until right now, until theon greyjoy.

she has to laugh internally, for everything she had thought about him may have been right, yet she's falling victim to it in this very moment. she gave him an inch, now he is taking a mile from her (whether he is aware of it or not). she cannot help but hear catelyn stark's warning to her as a young girl in her head ' stay away from boys like theon greyjoy '. sansa simply scoffed at her mother, feeling she would never stoop so low. though sansa's track record speaks for itself: joffrey. he may have appeared to be better than this, but no, he was not. he was worse than anything theon greyjoy could've done. her poor mother would have a stroke knowing her beloved daughter was hundreds of miles away getting charmed by the very boy she was warned about - in her brother's bed no less. no, no. this wasn't charmed, this was a booze fueled irrational thought. she will continue to tell herself this throughout the night, despite knowing she should be leaving now.

eyes narrow at him as he reaches across her to grab the menu off the fridge. it was all a very blatant display ── though she cannot, for the life of her, figure out his need to act accordingly so. sansa loves puzzles, she loves determining the motivation behind other's actions, yet once again theon greyjoy has left her stumped tonight. this confusion is shadowed by the feeling of anger coming over her, for the intended effect is swirling throughout the pits of her stomach, causing sansa to remain speechless and just watch as he acts like... like a right prick. it takes everything in her not to smack him with the menu when he dangles it in her face, but it also takes just as much restraint not to ever so slightly lean in when his face is inches from her own.

now daggers are coming from her eyes, and she can't shake the feeling that she is letting him know he's winning. especially as he is practically slandering her name to the pizza place. no, this cannot do. sansa has brothers, she knows how to fight dirty. springing into action, she shoves her whole weight to his chest, forcing him down onto the bed. using the element of surprise, sansa snatches the phone from theon's hand, using her other hand to pin down his arms. she is ignoring the fact she's practically straddling his lap, ignoring every warning sign in her brain to tell her to disengage immediately.

❝ no, no, ignore him, he's unwell! ❞ she shouts urgently into the phone, ❝ we'd like the buffalo chicken. ❞ there's silence on the other end of the line, and she's confused. tilting the phone screen towards herself, she's absolutely livid, yet biting back a laugh. oh, that was brilliant, she'd give him that - secretly. tossing his phone aside, she shakes her head, curtains of red curls tickling his face as she leans down to look at him. ❝ ha - ha, ❞ sansa sarcastically drawls from atop.

it is in this moment she now realizes she wields the power he had moments ago. she's not sure of this game they're playing, where it's giving just enough without giving anything at all. but sansa loves games, she's competitive, and she intends to win. how a victor is determined, she is unsure, but there won't be satisfaction until theon greyjoy is begging on his knees (begging for what, she dares not allow herself to think). ❝ i think this means you now have to treat. ❞ her voice is low, hushed, yet her eyes don't leave his as she hovers slightly above him. her face is now once more mere inches from his, but she dares get closer than he did ──── for sansa stark is a winner.

[prodigum]

𝐀𝐍𝐘 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎𝐍 staring at his dorm ceiling right about now. would find him pretending he is not here or there. or isn't much of anything at all. and where should he go next , though that is his least favorite topic. it's all a bit too philosophical for his own tastes , but if he doesn't catch the thoughts they'll only rattle off the insides of his brain incessantly. he is grateful that there is no rattling tonight.

theon hears raised voices outside their window. nothing out of the ordinary for a college campus. they draw his mind away temporarily , reminding him that something exists outside of the moment they are currently sharing. and something about that disappoints him. it's foreign and confusing — that pang in his chest. reminds him that robb could be back any minute. back to take this away from them. ( what even is this? theon doesn't think she knows any better than he does. but he's sinking into it at a pace he can't control. ) and maybe it really is just the liquor. enjoying time with his brother's younger sister? thinking that he might actually want more of it? theon is beginning to think he did not need that last shot.

he squints his eyes , considering her offer only for a brief moment before snatching the card. ❝ alright , plain jane. have it your way. ❞ theon smiles and digs his phone out of his back pocket. he looks past sansa , over to the fridge in its spot at the foot of robb's bed where takeout menus were fixed onto the door with random magnets. now , he could be perfectly normal about this. could just get off the bed and walk over to the fridge. but he's four shots in. and he doesn't feel like playing normal. or fair. he shifts forward , angling his legs so that he could get up on his knees. he leans over across sansa's body , one hand on the mattress on the opposite side of her from his legs. other hand reaching out for the correct menu on the fridge. once it's in hand , he begins to shift back into his spot. stops halfway , his face dangerously close to hers. gives her a shrug and holds up the menu. ❝ needed their number. ❞

back in his spot , he dials the number on the front. puts the phone up to his ear and pretends as though he actually made the call. ❝ hello. yes , takeout. dorm C. room 412. i'd like the most boring pizza you have on the menu. ❞ he looks over at sansa now , raising an eyebrow. ❝ right, sansa? ❞

𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐅𝐔𝐍𝐍𝐘 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆. like windshield wipers clearing away the rain. perhaps the warm buzz of the rum was doing its job of clearing away cloudy judgements she had on theon. she dares to think she might actually see theon greyjoy in a new light. one of understanding - friendship, perhaps. her brother's friend has provided her with comfort, has eased this pain, even if slightly ──── enough to clear her brain of the overwhelming torture it has endured for months on end now.

blue eyes watch as he pours another round, fingers drumming anxiously atop her legs, which are criss cross on the bed. the reasonable side of her (which was typically the predominant) knew this was a horrible idea, that masking of feelings with alcohol was the worst one could do. yet, all the same, she cannot stop herself. hands wrap around the shot glass once more, head tilting back as she winces down the liquid courage. sansa's face contorts in response, though theon's words send her back to reality.

❝ ──── you were wanted. ❞ sansa doesn't recognize the voice who speaks for her, yet she knows these are her own words. they escape without a thought, and now she knows the shots were a bad idea. typically, she'd bite back with how everyone but her wanted him around, and often times growing up ; that was true. or so she thought. but she cannot bring herself to provide a quip, not when she sees it so clearly now ──── theon greyjoy was an extension of the starks. her brother's pesky friend had a family in them, that she now understands more clearly than ever.

in this moment she is consumed by the need to clasp her hands over his own, to provide comfort to him. but there's still a fraction of her brain sober enough to keep her anchored. teeth begin to grip at her lip between them, tugging on the skin gently as she goes into thought. theon may not have intended this, but his words do move her, bring her to some sort of peace, at least temporarily. looking up she notices his eyes on her. this causes pause, all while heat creeps up along her ears and cheeks, a swelling source of warmth in her stomach. these weren't gazes of banter or consideration, it felt like she was transparent, as if he were truly seeing her for all she was.

there is everywhere else for her to look, yet she can only look at him the same. his banter the only thing bringing her back once more, thank gods for that. an amused grin flashes upon features, head tilting as she laughs. ❝ that it may be, theon. ❞ sansa too puts an emphasis on his name, playing along. such an odd sound, her name from his lips. nicknames and surnames had been passed between them throughout the years, but never their born names.

❝ i don't trust you not to burn this place down, even with ramen. ❞ a soft chuckle leaves her at this, sansa leaning over to grab her purse. ❝ take out, but in the spirit of friendship, ❞ she begins, emphasizing that word with a heavy drip of sarcasm, ❝ i will treat. if we're ordering pizza you can't pick the toppings though. you probably like weird shit on top like anchovies. ❞ her face scrunches in disgust as she hands him over her credit card.