#do i just need to grab everything in the room and run?

[aerialmirrorss]

𝐰 𝐢 𝐥 𝐝 𝐟 𝐥 𝐨 𝐰 𝐞 𝐫 ⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆ rafe cameron

playing: 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 by billie eilish 𝜗𝜚˚｡˚ ⋆

synopsis! rafe realizes how much he cares about you when he’s willing to put everything on the line for your safety after a leaked video gets to sarah, your best friend..

paring: rafe cameron x pogue!reader

warnings: friends? with benefits , angst , panic attack (pogue!reader) , soft(ish)!rafe (he’s bipolar ik) , sexual content + unprotected sex! , lots of praise + dirty talk , some fluff , the L word , potential stalker? , mature , 18+ (minors dni!)

word count: 7.4k

notes: this is chapter two of my nobody gets me series. click the link below to read chapter one! pls lmk if you’d like to be added to my taglist! ♡

chapter one: 𝐧 𝐨 𝐛 𝐨 𝐝 𝐲 𝐠 𝐞 𝐭 𝐬 𝐦 𝐞 ⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆

⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆

to say rafe was freaking out would be an understatement. it had been days since he’d last seen you, and the silence on your end was driving him to the edge of his sanity. not a single text, call, or word had come from you. it was like you’d vanished, and every minute without hearing from you only made his frustration worse.

he sat on the edge of his bed at tannyhill, replaying the night in his head for the hundredth time. every detail, every sound, every look—it all came flooding back, leaving him questioning everything. maybe he’d been too rough. maybe he’d misread your reactions, thinking you wanted it when in reality, you were trying to get away. the thought sent a chill down his spine.

he couldn’t sleep, couldn’t focus. he paced his room, running his hand through his hair, biting his thumbnail anxiously as he mumbled under his breath. every scenario raced through his mind, each one worse than the last.

should he text you again? call? or maybe just drive to your house and force you to talk to him? the idea of busting down your door crossed his mind more than once, his desperation teetering on obsession. he hated feeling this out of control, hated not knowing where you stood.

but above all, he hated the thought of losing you—of you slipping through his fingers without giving him the chance to make it right.

just then, as if his prayers had been answered, your name lit up his phone. a call.

for a moment, he stared at the screen, his heart hammering in his chest before he cleared his throat and steadied his hand enough to swipe the answer button. “hey,” he said, his voice softer than usual.

the silence on your end made his stomach churn. maybe you’d called by accident? but then, faintly, he heard it—your voice. it was barely a whisper, rough and broken, like you’d been crying for hours.

“i need to talk to you,” you said, the vulnerability in your tone cutting straight through him.

“yeah, okay. i’ll come to you—” he shot up from his bed, already slipping on his shoes, when you interrupted him.

“n-no,” you stammered, your voice shaky. “just meet me at the beach. i’ll send you my pin.”

before he could respond, the line went dead, leaving him in silence once again. he stood frozen for a moment, staring at his phone, his mind racing. then, without hesitation, he grabbed his keys and headed for the door. whatever this was, he wasn’t about to leave it unresolved.

you watched as the waves crashed against the shore, the rhythmic sound doing little to calm the storm inside you. with trembling hands, you adjusted your hat and pulled up the hood of your oversized sweater, trying to shield yourself from the cool night air—and maybe from your own reflection in the water. your puffy eyes told the story you didn’t want to share. if it wasn’t already obvious you’d been crying for days, you wouldn’t have bothered with the oversized sweater as a weak disguise.

you’ve been spamming sarah’s phone nonstop, sending text after text, leaving voicemails that never got a reply. it got to the point where you’re certain she’s blocked you. the silent treatment has been unbearable, eating away at you in a way you didn’t expect.

but even worse, you haven’t set foot in the chateau since it all happened. you couldn’t bring yourself to. if sarah was mad at you—and you knew she was—then the rest of them probably were too. if she told them—and she likely did—you doubted any of them would want to see you.

the thought of facing jj, of looking into his bruised eye and knowing how you betrayed him, kept you away. you didn’t deserve their forgiveness, so you didn’t ask for it. instead, you sat here, waiting for rafe, the one person you weren’t sure you could avoid any longer.

you feel a presence behind you, the weight of it heavy in the air, and you know without looking who it is. the sound of footsteps crunching softly against the sand confirms it before that presence settles beside you.

rafe doesn’t say anything at first, but you can feel his eyes on you, studying you, trying to gauge your mood. you don’t turn to face him, but out of the corner of your eye, you catch a glimpse of his expression—his furrowed brows, the slight downturn of his lips, and the unmistakable concern in his features.

your chest tightens. maybe he already knew about the video. maybe that’s why he looked like this—like he wasn’t sure what to say but felt he needed to be here.

you swallow hard, forcing the lump in your throat down, the tension stretching painfully in the quiet. “sarah knows, rafe,” you mutter finally, your voice barely above a whisper, but it feels deafening in the stillness.

you turn your head slightly to gauge his reaction, but he doesn’t give you one. his expression doesn’t change, his silence heavy and unreadable. of course he doesn’t react—you should’ve expected that.

you sigh softly, the weight of it all pressing harder against you. “there’s, um—” your voice cracks, and you pause, biting down on your trembling lip as the tears threaten to spill. “there’s a video of us. before we got in the truck. and someone sent it to her.”

you roll your lips into your mouth, trying desperately to hold yourself together, but it feels like you’re crumbling piece by piece. a single tear slips down your cheek, warm against your cold, rosy skin. you don’t wipe it away, too consumed by the weight of everything to care.

your chest feels like it’s caving in, the weight of it pressing down so hard it steals the air from your lungs. your breaths come short and shallow, each one more desperate than the last as if no matter how hard you try, you can’t pull in enough oxygen. your hands start to tremble, curling into fists at your sides, and your heart pounds so violently in your chest it feels like it might burst.

your vision starts to tunnel, the edges blurring as the crashing waves in front of you twist into an indistinguishable mess of sound and movement. your head feels light, like you’re floating and sinking at the same time, and a sharp heat spreads through your chest and throat, making it even harder to breathe.

you press your hands against your knees, trying to ground yourself, but it only makes the dizziness worse. the lump in your throat feels unbearable, choking you as tears stream uncontrollably down your face. everything feels too loud and too bright, the sound of the waves and the faint hum of rafe’s presence blending into an overwhelming cacophony.

“hey,” rafe says softly, his voice distant despite being right next to you. you barely register the warmth of his hand against your arm. “hey, look at me. breathe. just breathe.”

but you can’t. your body is out of your control, your mind spiraling into a dark abyss of guilt, fear, and panic. the more you fight it, the tighter the grip becomes, until all you can do is clutch your arms around yourself, trying to hold the pieces of you together as the panic consumes you.

rafe stands abruptly, the tension in his movements evident, before crouching down right in front of you. his hand gently cups your cheek, his thumb brushing slow, soothing strokes over your skin, an anchor in the storm of your panic.

“hey, hey, hey,” he murmurs, his voice low and steady, drawing your unfocused gaze to his. his eyes lock onto yours, grounding and intent. “look at me,” he urges, keeping his tone soft but firm.

he takes a deep inhale, exaggerating the motion so you can follow it, then exhales slowly, motioning for you to mimic him, taking your hand and putting it on his chest. “breathe with me,” he says, his own chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

your attempts are shaky at first, uneven gasps that barely resemble breaths, but you follow him. inhale. exhale. over and over. relief washes over his face as your breathing starts to regulate, the shallow gasps slowly giving way to deeper, steadier pulls of air.

“there we go,” he soothes, his thumb still tracing gentle circles on your cheek. “good job, baby.” the nickname slips out before he can stop it, but he doesn’t correct himself, too focused on calming you.

his other hand comes to rest lightly on your knee, grounding you further, his presence unwavering. “i’ve got you,” he says softly, his voice steady, as if willing you to believe it.

in that moment, as rafe watched you close your eyes, your chest rising and falling steadily again, relief softening your tear-streaked face, something inside him snapped. rage surged through him like a tidal wave, sudden and uncontrollable.

and he blamed sarah.

to him, it was her fault. she had no right to get involved, no reason to make this worse. something that was meant to stay between you and him—just you and him—was now tearing you apart. and all because of her.

his jaw clenched, his teeth grinding together as he thought about her selfishness, her spoiled sense of righteousness. it didn’t matter that she was his sister; all he could see was the way her actions had hurt you. the way she had betrayed him.

the image of you struggling to breathe, broken and panicked because of her interference, made his blood boil. it wasn’t fair. it wasn’t right. and it was enough to make him see red.

and then there was that damn video.

the thought of it made rafe’s fists clench at his sides. it wasn’t just about the invasion of privacy; it was about you—your exposure in such a vulnerable moment. the idea of someone lurking, watching, and recording without your knowledge made his blood run cold with anger.

he didn’t care about his own reputation, not in the slightest. all he cared about was you and the way it could hurt you, the way it already had hurt you.

rafe was determined to figure out who took it. he didn’t care how long it would take or what he’d have to do to get the answers. whoever it was would regret ever crossing that line. and he’d make sure of it.

rafe gently pulls you to your feet, his hands steadying you before he wraps his arms around your shoulders, drawing you into a firm, grounding hug. the warmth radiating from his body seeps into you, calming the residual tremors in your chest. his steady breathing against the top of your head is a silent reassurance that you’re okay, that he’s got you.

“you’re good,” he murmurs softly, almost to himself, as if trying to convince you both.

after a few moments, he pulls back slightly, his hands brushing your arms as he guides you toward the passenger side of his truck. he opens the door and helps you inside, his fingers lingering as he buckles your seatbelt, the light touch against your bare thighs sending goosebumps rippling across your skin. you shiver but don’t say anything, leaning back into the seat as he closes the door.

once the truck is moving, the hum of the engine fills the comfortable silence between you. you haven’t said a word since the breakdown at the beach, but rafe doesn’t push. he seems to understand that the quiet is what you need right now.

he pulls into a nearby gas station, the bright lights spilling across the truck as he puts it in park. “i’ll be quick,” he mumbles, more to himself than you, before slipping out and heading inside.

you sit there, watching him through the window as he grabs a water bottle and lingers near the snack aisle, seemingly deliberating. for a brief moment, you feel a flicker of something you can’t place—gratitude, guilt, or maybe just relief that he’s here.

inside, rafe grabs a pack of gummy worms, deciding it’s the safest option. he figures it’s something easy, something you might actually eat since he’s convinced you haven’t been eating properly these past few days. satisfied, he starts to head to the checkout when he hears it—a laugh he knows all too well, one that instantly sets him on edge.

his head snaps in the direction of the sound, and there they are—sarah and john b, standing in the same aisle he just walked out of. rafe’s jaw tightens, a flare of anger igniting in his chest. it takes everything in him not to start something right then and there.

his fists clench at his sides as he forces himself to stay composed, but the tension in his body is undeniable as he turns on his heel and strides toward her.

“i need to talk to you,” he says sharply, his voice low but firm as he approaches sarah.

sarah visibly jumps at his sudden appearance, her startled expression quickly morphing into a glare. rafe can see the way her jaw ticks, the anger bubbling just beneath the surface, mirroring his own.

she glances at john b, offering him a reassuring smile. “i’ll be right back,” she says calmly, though her tone carries an edge. reluctantly, john b stays put, watching them as sarah follows rafe to the back of the store, where the beverage aisle is quieter and out of sight.

as soon as they’re alone, rafe’s grip tightens on the gummy worms and water bottle in his hands, his knuckles turning white as he struggles for some semblance of control. his glare pierces through sarah, the tension between them thick and heavy, charged with years of unresolved resentment.

“you had no fucking right,” he growls, his voice low and venomous, the anger in his tone bubbling just beneath the surface, threatening to spill over.

sarah’s brows knit together, her own frustration flaring as she lowers her voice to a sharp whisper. “i had no right? rafe, you had no fucking right!” she hisses, her eyes blazing with anger. “my best friend of all people? are you serious? you could’ve literally chosen anyone else, anyone, but no, you always have to come after my happiness!”

her words hang heavy between them, cutting deeper than she intended. rafe’s jaw clenches, his entire body rigid as he stares at her, his anger matched only by the faint flicker of hurt she’s unknowingly struck.

“this isn’t about your happiness,” he snaps back, his voice still low but laced with venom. “this is about you sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong. you had no right to drag her into this.”

sarah crosses her arms, her glare unwavering. “and you had no right to do what you did, rafe. you knew what this would do to her, to me, to all of us. but you didn’t care, did you? because you never do.”

rafe steps closer, the tension between them nearly suffocating as his voice drops even lower, dripping with bitterness. “you think i don’t care? you have no idea what i feel, sarah. none. but you—you took it too far. that video?” his grip tightens around the items in his hands, the plastic crinkling under the pressure. “do you have any idea what that did to her? to me?”

sarah’s arms tighten around herself, but she doesn’t back down. “i didn’t take that video, rafe. don’t pin your shit on me,” she fires back, her voice steadier now, but no less angry. “you’re the one who dragged her into your bullshit. you’re the one who made her a target.”

“a target? i’ve been protecting her!” he snarls, his composure cracking as he takes another step closer. “you think i wanted this? for someone to spy on us, to send you a video like that? you have no idea what i’d do to keep her safe.”

sarah laughs bitterly, shaking her head. “protecting her? from what, rafe? from you?” her words are sharp, designed to cut, and they do. “because that’s what it looks like from where I’m standing.”

rafe’s jaw ticks, his breathing heavy, as he stares her down, trying to bite back the words that threaten to spill. “you don’t get it,” he mutters, his voice thick with frustration. “you never did. this isn’t about you, sarah.”

“no, it’s about her,” she snaps, her voice rising slightly despite her attempt to keep it contained. “my best friend, rafe. she’s not just some girl for you to fuck around with and forget about when it’s convenient. she deserves better than this—better than you.”

the words hit him harder than he expects, but he doesn’t let it show. instead, he leans in closer, his tone sharp as a blade. “and you think she needs you playing savior? she doesn’t, sarah. she’s stronger than you give her credit for.”

sarah’s face softens slightly, her anger flickering into something more conflicted, but she doesn’t back down. “if she’s so strong, then why is she breaking because of you?” she whispers, her voice quieter now but no less cutting.

rafe doesn’t answer immediately, his grip loosening as the weight of her words settles over him. for the first time, he looks away, his jaw tight as he swallows hard.

sarah sighs deeply, her anger giving way to something softer, though the tension in her shoulders remains. she looks down at her shoes for a moment before lifting her gaze to meet rafe’s, her eyes filled with something he doesn’t expect—concern.

“if you really care about her, rafe,” she says, her voice quieter now, less sharp but still firm, “you’ll leave her alone. you’re just going to take her down with you.”

her words cut deeper than he wants to admit, but he doesn’t let it show. his jaw tightens, his eyes narrowing as he shakes his head. “you don’t know what you’re talking about,” he mutters, his voice low but defensive.

“don’t i?” sarah counters, her brows furrowing. “i’ve seen it, rafe. the way you drag people into your chaos. she’s already hurting because of you—look at what’s happened these past few days! she doesn’t need this. she doesn’t need you.”

rafe flinches at the words but quickly masks it with anger. “and what? you think walking away is going to fix everything? you think i can just leave her and pretend like nothing happened?” his voice rises slightly, frustration creeping in.

“yes,” sarah replies simply, her tone steady but sad. “because if you don’t, she’s going to lose herself trying to save you. and you know that, rafe. deep down, you know that.”

rafe’s hands clench into fists, his breathing heavy as her words sink in. for a moment, he’s silent, his eyes darting away as he processes what she’s said. but instead of responding, he turns on his heel, walking away from her and toward the checkout, his mind racing with everything he doesn’t want to admit might be true.

as rafe walks toward the checkout, his thoughts are a storm of anger, guilt, and something deeper he can’t quite name. sarah’s words play over and over in his head, each repetition chipping away at his defenses. if you really care about her, you’ll leave her alone. the weight of it feels unbearable, but he pushes it down, refusing to let it show.

he pays for the water and gummy worms quickly, his mind far from the mundane transaction. the cashier’s bored expression barely registers as he grabs the bag and heads back to the truck. the short walk feels like miles, his chest tight with a mix of emotions he can’t fully unravel.

when he gets back to the truck, he opens the door and climbs in, placing the bag on the center console. you’re still in the passenger seat, curled up slightly, staring out the window at the empty gas station parking lot. the dim light casts shadows across your face, and rafe’s chest aches at the sight of you looking so small, so fragile.

“here,” he says, his voice softer than usual as he pulls out the water and gummy worms, placing them gently in your lap. “figured you should have something.”

you don’t look at him right away, your fingers hesitating before picking up the water bottle. “thanks,” you murmur, your voice barely audible, but it’s the first thing you’ve said to him since the beach. it feels like both a relief and a dagger in his chest.

rafe leans back in his seat, running a hand through his hair as silence falls between you again. he doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to fix this. sarah’s words linger in the back of his mind like a poison, making him question everything.

finally, he glances at you, his voice quieter than you’ve ever heard it. “do you… do you want me to take you home?” the question hangs in the air, heavy and uncertain, as he watches you for any sign of what you want, what you need from him.

“um—my mom and i kinda got into this fight,” you admit, your voice small, barely louder than the hum of the truck’s engine. “i really don’t want to be home right now.” your fingers fumble with the cap of the water bottle before you finally twist it open, the cool liquid soothing the dryness in your throat.

rafe glances at you briefly, nodding as he shifts the truck into gear. “tannyhill it is,” he says simply, his tone steady but softer than you expected.

soon, he’s reversing out of the gas station, the hum of the tires on the road filling the silence between you. you steal a glance at him, his profile illuminated by the dim dashboard lights. his grip on the steering wheel is firm, his jaw tight, but his expression is calm—focused, almost protective.

you sip your water quietly, the tension from earlier slowly starting to ebb away, replaced by a strange sense of relief. for all of rafe’s flaws, he always had a way of making you feel like, in the moment, nothing else could touch you.

as the truck cruises through the dark streets, you lean your head against the window, your eyes fluttering closed for a moment. the familiar scent of leather and cologne fills your senses, grounding you more than you care to admit.

you hadn’t been to tannyhill in a while, the last time being a couple of weeks ago with rafe. stepping inside now, you realize it hasn’t changed—it still holds that same strange sense of comfort, despite everything. the air smells faintly of cedar and something distinctly rafe, a mix of cologne and the warm musk of the house itself.

rafe walks in behind you, the sound of his shoes soft against the hardwood floor. he sets his keys down next to the coat hanger with a quiet clink, his movements uncharacteristically calm. you glance around as you step further into the house, your gaze catching the open laptop and scattered paperwork on the coffee table. clearly, he’d been in the middle of something important when you called.

you move to the outside balcony, sinking onto the couch there, the cool night air brushing against your skin. rafe follows shortly after, standing in the doorway for a moment before stepping onto the balcony.

your eyes flick back to the coffee table through the glass door, taking in the slight disarray of his work. he must’ve dropped everything the moment he heard your voice, and the thought makes your chest tighten, your heart swelling with an unfamiliar warmth.

“you didn’t have to stop what you were doing,” you say softly, glancing up at him.

he shrugs, leaning against the balcony railing, his expression unreadable but his voice steady. “it’s not important. you are.”

his words linger in the air between you, and for once, you don’t overthink them. you just let yourself feel the comfort of being here, the weight of the day slowly lifting.

“rafe—” you begin, your voice soft, almost hesitant.

“yeah?” he cuts in quickly, his response sharp and immediate, like he’d been waiting on edge for you to say something. his eyes search yours, his posture tense, his mind clearly elsewhere. sarah’s words are still plaguing him, the weight of them pulling him into his thoughts.

you take a small breath, steadying yourself. “thank you,” you say, your tone even softer now. “for helping me through that.”

his expression softens slightly, and he takes a step closer before sitting down on the small table in front of you, close enough that his knees brush yours. his focus is completely on you now, and the tension in his shoulders eases just a fraction.

“it’s happened before,” you admit quietly, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your sweater, “but it’s never been that…” your voice trails off, the weight of earlier still heavy in your chest.

rafe nods slowly, understanding without needing you to finish the sentence. “i know,” he says softly, his voice steady but tinged with something that sounds like regret. his gaze holds yours, unwavering. “it’s okay. you’re okay.”

his words settle over you like a blanket, grounding you in the moment. for all his rough edges, rafe had a way of being exactly what you needed when the world felt like too much. and right now, that was more than enough.

the silence stretches between you, heavy and unspoken, until rafe finally sighs, breaking it. “i saw sarah at the store,” he says, his voice low.

your gaze lifts from your fingers, which had been nervously fiddling with the hem of your sweater. sitting up straighter, you meet his eyes, searching for something in his expression. “what did she say?” you ask softly.

he exhales sharply, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “i just want you to know,” he begins, his voice steady but tense, “she’s not mad at you. she’s mad at me.” his hand clenches into a fist, his knuckles whitening as he stares down at the floor.

“sarah…” he trails off, his jaw tightening at the mere thought of her. after a beat, he continues, his voice bitter. “she thinks i’m using you to get to her.”

the words hang in the air, and for a moment, all you can do is watch him, trying to make sense of it all. “are you?” you ask, your voice quiet but firm, your gaze unwavering as you search his face.

rafe’s eyes flicker between yours, the tension in his body palpable. his jaw works for a moment, and then he finally answers, his voice steady. “no.”

the way he says it—calm, without hesitation—makes you believe him. but the weight of everything else still lingers, making the air between you feel thick and unsteady.

“rafe, it’s fine. really, I’m over it,” you say softly, trying to keep your tone light, even though it feels like there’s a weight pressing down on your chest. “if you just want to keep it casual, then we’ll leave it at that. it was the agreement in the first place, right?”

his jaw tightens, his teeth grinding together as he struggles to keep his composure. casual. the word feels like a knife twisting in his gut because it’s the opposite of what he wants.

but admitting that to you? that’s something else entirely. he almost slipped earlier—nearly spilled everything in the middle of the gas station while arguing with sarah. but here, sitting across from you, the words feel too heavy, too risky.

rafe wasn’t lying when he said he wanted to protect you. every instinct in him screamed to keep you away from his world, to shield you from the darkness that followed him everywhere he went.

“it’s not that simple,” he mutters finally, his voice low, as if he’s talking more to himself than to you. his fists clench again, the tension in his body radiating outward. “you think this is about keeping it casual? it’s not. it’s about keeping you safe.”

his eyes flick to yours, and for a moment, the mask slips completely. there’s a raw vulnerability in his expression, something he’s been trying to keep buried. “the way i live my life… it’ll ruin you,” he says, his voice cracking slightly. “and i can’t let that happen.”

your brows knit together, a confused pout forming on your lips that almost makes him cave. “if this is about stacy thornton—”

“it’s not about stacy,” he interrupts quickly, his tone sharp but not unkind. his hands move to his face, rubbing stressfully as he exhales deeply. “the reason you saw me with her that day on the golf course… it wasn’t what you think.”

you stay quiet, your gaze fixed on him as he drops his hands and meets your eyes again. “i was trying to strike a deal with her father. cameron development is his company’s biggest competitor, and if i can get close to stacy, he won’t see me as a threat, and i could blindside him,” he explains, his voice steady but laced with frustration, as though the situation is as exhausting for him as it is for you.

his hand instinctively finds your knee, his thumb tracing gentle patterns across it, grounding himself as much as you. “i don’t want anything to do with stacy, i promise,” he says, his tone softening as he looks at you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of understanding.

the sincerity in his voice, the gentle touch of his hand, and the raw honesty in his confession make it harder for you to hold onto the frustration you felt before. “then why does it feel like you’re always pushing me away?” you whisper, your voice trembling slightly.

his eyes shut softly, as if he’s trying to gather any remaining resolve he can muster. his chest rises and falls with a heavy sigh before he speaks, his voice low and unsteady. “because, baby…” the nickname slips from his lips so naturally, so effortlessly, it sends a flutter through your stomach despite the weight of the moment.

“if i don’t push you away,” he continues, his eyes opening slowly to meet yours, “then i have to let you in. and i can’t do that to you.” his voice cracks just slightly at the end, the vulnerability slipping through despite his attempts to stay composed.

his hand tightens its grip on your knee for a moment, as if anchoring himself to you, his thumb still tracing gentle patterns. “letting you in means exposing you to all of it—everything i’ve done, everything i am. and you don’t deserve that.” his voice wavers, the rawness in his tone making your chest ache.

you stare at him, your heart twisting at his words. “but don’t you see?” you whisper, leaning forward slightly, your own voice trembling. “you’re not protecting me by shutting me out, rafe. you’re just hurting me more.”

his resolve crumbles completely, the weight of holding back proving too much. he sighs softly, his hand sliding from your knee to gently grip your chin, tilting your face toward his. his eyes search yours for a moment, as if asking for permission, before leaning in and pressing his lips to yours in a soft, tentative kiss.

it’s not like the other times. this kiss isn’t rushed or heated—it’s careful, almost fragile, like he’s afraid it might break both of you if he lingers too long. his thumb brushes your jaw as his lips move against yours, and for a moment, the rest of the world fades away.

when he pulls back slightly, his forehead rests against yours, his hand still holding your chin. his voice is barely a whisper when he speaks. “i’m sorry,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your lips. “i just… i don’t know how else to show you.”

“show me what?” you whisper, your voice trembling slightly as you chew on your bottom lip, trying to steady yourself, trying to keep from closing the distance between you again.

rafe’s hand lingers on your chin, his thumb gently brushing your skin as his eyes bore into yours, raw and unguarded. he swallows hard, his voice breaking slightly as he finally says the words that have been clawing at him for what feels like forever.

“that i love you,” he murmurs, the confession hanging heavily in the air between you. his gaze doesn’t falter, watching your every reaction like he’s bracing himself for whatever comes next.

your breath catches in your throat, his words hitting you harder than you ever expected. the vulnerability in his voice, the way his hand shakes ever so slightly against your skin—it’s enough to shatter any walls you had left.

“well, i can piece it together, i’m a big girl,” you mutter, your words barely leaving your lips before you close the space between you, crashing your mouth against his without another thought.

rafe groans softly, his hands immediately finding their way into your hair, tangling in it as he pulls you closer. in one swift motion, he removes the hat from your head, tossing it aside like it’s in his way. his lips move against yours with a mixture of urgency and tenderness, his touch igniting a spark that makes your whole body feel alive.

“what are you doing to me, huh?” he mumbles against your lips, his voice low and gravelly, the words almost a plea.

you smile against his mouth, the smallest laugh escaping you before you pull back just enough to meet his eyes, your hands brushing lightly against his chest. “probably the same thing you’re doing to me,” you reply softly, your gaze flickering between his lips and his eyes.

a smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth before he pulls you back in, kissing you deeply, as if trying to make up for all the moments he held himself back.

rafe’s kisses left you dizzy, every touch, every movement pulling you deeper into him. before you even realized it, you were rolling your hips against his, your body moving instinctively, chasing the heat building between you. breathy moans slipped from your lips against his, and his hands gripped your waist firmly, guiding your movements as you straddled him.

“fuck, baby,” he groans, his head falling back slightly as he leans into the couch, his gaze flicking up to meet yours. “doing so good f’me,” he mumbles, his voice rough with pleasure.

his words send a spark through you, making your hips move more deliberately, the friction sending shivers up your spine. rafe’s eyes never leave you, dark and hooded as he watches you attempt to bounce on him, your movements unsteady as the overwhelming pleasure takes hold of you.

“that’s it,” he murmurs, his hands sliding down to grip your hips tighter, helping you find a rhythm. “so fucking perfect.” his praise only spurs you on, the intensity building with every roll of your hips, every moan that slips from both your lips. the world around you fades away, leaving just the two of you and the heat consuming you both.

the way you were squeezing around him had rafe’s jaw ticking, his self-control hanging by a thread. every movement of your hips sent shockwaves through him, and he was trying—really trying—not to lose himself and thrust into you, wanting to keep you comfortable.

but when he couldn’t hold back any longer, his hands gripped your waist firmly, flipping you so your back was splayed against the couch. before you could even process the shift, he grabbed one of the nearby pillows, sliding it under your lower back to lift your hips, positioning you for a deeper angle.

“trust me,” he murmured, his voice rough but tender, his lips brushing against your temple as he settled between your legs.

then he started moving, his pace firm and deliberate, each thrust pushing into you with an intensity that had you crying out, your moans matching the rhythm of his movements. your hands gripped his neck for support, nails digging in slightly as the new angle sent pleasure coursing through you in waves.

“fuck,” rafe groaned, his voice low and strained as he watched your body arch beneath him. “you feel so good, baby—so fucking perfect.” his words only amplified the heat pooling in your core, your moans turning into desperate gasps as he kept up the relentless pace, the balcony echoing with the sounds of skin meeting skin and your shared breaths.

“rafe, shit—don’t stop,” you beg, your voice trembling as your legs quiver around his waist, struggling to keep hold of him as he pounds into you. every thrust sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, your body arching into his as you cling to him for support.

he groans at your words, his eyes darkening as his hand slides up your body, finding its way to your neck. his fingers curl around your throat, applying just enough pressure under your jaw to make your head spin, the sensation amplifying the overwhelming heat pooling in your core.

“you like that, huh?” he mutters, his voice rough and dripping with control as he watches your face twist in pleasure beneath him. “look at you, baby, taking it so well for me.”

your eyes flutter closed as the overwhelming combination of his relentless pace and the pressure on your neck sends you spiraling closer to the edge. “rafe,” you whimper, your voice trembling, the sound barely audible over the symphony of heavy breaths and skin meeting skin.

his eyes stay locked on you, drinking in the sight of your flushed cheeks, parted lips, and trembling body beneath him. his other hand moves to press firmly on your lower stomach, the added pressure making you cry out, your back arching against the couch as the sensation intensifies everything.

“fuck,” he groans, his voice gravelly as he watches your reactions, completely entranced by the way you respond to him. “you feel that?” he mutters, his hand pressing down just a little more. “feel how deep i am?”

you can only nod weakly, your moans turning into desperate, breathless gasps as your body tightens around him, squeezing with every thrust. rafe’s jaw clenches, his own composure fraying as he drives you both closer and closer to the edge, his pace never faltering.

“come on, pretty girl,” he murmurs through gritted teeth, his tone raw and commanding. “cum for me. i’ve got you.”

his words are the final push, and your body shudders as the release crashes over you. your walls convulse around his cock, pulling a deep, guttural moan from his throat. the intensity has your head spinning, and your moans dissolve into gasps as he keeps thrusting, prolonging your high even as the overstimulation starts to set in.

rafe’s hand slips from your neck, his head dropping to rest beside yours, his breath hot against your skin. his pace falters as he feels his own release building rapidly. when your cunt squeezes him tightly on a particularly deep thrust, it sends him over the edge.

“fuck,” he groans, his hips stuttering as he spills inside of you, filling you completely. his grip on your hips tightens as he rides out the waves of his orgasm, his body trembling slightly against yours.

the room falls into a heavy silence, the only sounds the mingling of your ragged breaths and the faint hum of the crickets outside. rafe stays still for a moment, his forehead pressed against your shoulder, grounding himself before slowly pulling out to look at you, his eyes soft but unreadable.

“i’m sorry,” he murmurs, his voice soft, almost hesitant. “i didn’t mean to be rough.” his eyes scan your face intently, searching for any trace of discomfort or regret.

you let out a soft laugh, reaching up to pull his face down to yours, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. his shoulders relax, and he smiles against your mouth, the tension in his body melting away.

when you pull back, the wet sound of the kiss echoes softly in the quiet night, and a playful smirk tugs at your lips. “you’re so cute,” you tease, your voice light and full of warmth.

for the first time, you see his cheeks flush a faint shade of pink, and the sight makes you erupt into a fit of laughter. rafe huffs softly, shaking his head, but there’s a shy grin tugging at his lips that he can’t hide.

“i love you, rafe,” you say suddenly, the words falling from your lips with ease, no hesitation or doubt.

his eyes widen slightly, his expression softening as he looks at you. for a moment, he’s silent, his hand brushing against your cheek. “i love you,” he whispers, his voice rough but steady, his gaze holding yours as if to make sure you know just how much he means it.

“we’re gonna be okay,” you whisper softly, your hand coming up to caress his cheek. your thumb brushes over his skin in slow, soothing strokes, your eyes locked on his.

“yeah,” rafe murmurs, his voice dark and full of resolve, “after i kill the person who recorded you.”

your hand stills for a moment, his words making your stomach twist. you can see the tension in his jaw, the way his eyes darken at the thought, his anger simmering just beneath the surface.

“rafe,” you say softly, leaning closer to him, your tone a mixture of caution and reassurance. “that’s not how we should handle this. i just… i just want it to go away. i don’t want you to make it worse.”

his eyes flicker back to yours, softening slightly, though the fire in them doesn’t fully fade. “no one gets to do that to you,” he mutters, his hand coming up to cover yours on his cheek. “no one gets to hurt you and get away with it.”

you sigh, leaning your forehead against his. “we’ll figure it out. together. just… don’t do anything stupid, okay?”

he doesn’t answer right away, the weight of your words hanging between you. but after a moment, he nods reluctantly, his hand tightening around yours. “okay,” he finally says, his voice calm, though the tension in his tone betrays him. it’s clear he’s only agreeing to keep you at ease.

later, once you’ve fallen into a deep, peaceful sleep, rafe gently scoops you up, careful not to wake you. he carries you to his bed, tucking you under the soft duvet. his gaze lingers on your face for a moment, his expression softening as he brushes a stray strand of hair from your cheek. with a quiet sigh, he turns and closes the door behind him.

but there’s no rest for him tonight. he stalks to his office, the air around him heavy with purpose. dropping into his chair, he powers up his laptop, his jaw set as he begins sending emails and messages.

personal investigators, tech-savvy acquaintances, and anyone else who might help him track down the person responsible for the video—you’re not just a priority to him; you’re the priority.

each keystroke is filled with a quiet rage, his determination growing with every email sent. rafe won’t rest, won’t stop, until he figures out who did this to you—and makes sure they regret it.

© aerialmirrorss

taglist!: @loren8818181 @cherubcameron @shookyungsoo @waywarddiplomatfarmmonger-blog @furiouscopshepherduniversity @chenslucy @superswaggycooch @ggyuslovie @mileyraes @tincanhat @pinklleemonade @stylestarkey @percysley @rrosiitas @ipromiseidk @faephoria

[solxamber]

I'm not sure how many of those Holiday Event asks you've got up to this point.. yet it's still worth giving it a try..! ( •̀ ᗜ •́ )

Could you do Diasomnia with prompt no. 2 genre comedy, maybe some fluff?

[I can't stop imaging: Malleus acidentally knocking over the flour causing him to be wholly covered in it XD]

If you're gotten many reguest for the Holiday Event, you don't have to do this one ❤ Thank you in advance!

Great Kitchen Rescue || Silver

For the Holiday Event! || Theme: Cooking/Baking together ; Genre: Comedy with Fluff

When Lilia announced he’d be making dinner, your survival instincts kicked in.

“Lilia, why don’t Silver and I take over tonight? You’ve been working so hard recently,” you said, voice dripping with a desperation you hoped he wouldn’t notice.

Lilia looked at you suspiciously, holding a jar of something pink and faintly glowing. “Are you sure? I had a very special recipe planned.”

“That’s what we’re afraid of,” you muttered under your breath before grabbing Silver and marching into the kitchen.

The plan was simple: you’d cook, and Silver would handle anything that needed minimal effort. You assigned him the stew. Stirring couldn’t go wrong, right?

Wrong.

You were just rinsing the rice when you heard a suspicious “thud.” Spinning around, you found Silver listing dangerously over the pot, eyes half-closed.

“Silver! Are you falling asleep?!” you shrieked, lunging across the kitchen to grab him.

“Mm… no…” he mumbled, head bobbing dangerously closer to the bubbling stew.

“Yes, you are! Get up before you become the main course!” You yanked him upright with a strength you didn’t know you had.

Silver blinked at you, a lazy smile on his face. “You’re really good at catching people, you know that?”

“Stop flirting and stay conscious!”

You wedged him between the counter and the fridge for support, and he obediently leaned back, eyes drooping again. You gave up. Fine. You’d cook everything yourself if it meant saving everyone from accidental cannibalism.

After a heroic struggle, the meal was finally ready. You carried the dishes to the dining room with Silver trailing behind, yawning like he’d just run a marathon.

Malleus took a bite of the stew and gave a thoughtful nod. “This is... remarkable. Thank you for sparing us from culinary experiments.”

Lilia looked deeply offended. “My cooking isn’t that bad!”

You raised an eyebrow. “Last week you made ‘salmon surprise.’ The surprise was that it was purple.”

Lilia waved a dismissive hand. “That’s creativity.”

Silver, now fully awake after eating, leaned over and whispered, “You really did save us all. Especially me. Thanks.”

You glanced at him, thinking about how close you’d come to serving up a “Silver stew” special. “Anytime. Just promise me you’ll never cook unsupervised again.”

Lilia stood suddenly, clapping his hands. “This inspires me to bake dessert!”

You and Silver exchanged a look of pure horror.

“NO!” you, Silver, Sebek, and Malleus shouted in unison, with Sebek clutching his bowl protectively like his life depended on it.

Lilia just laughed. “Haha! You're all no fun!”

Masterlist

[honeygrahambitch]

"He is...he is..." Will said as he looked at the pictures taken at the crime scene. "Frustrated. He is not trying hard to impress with his murder spree, he is angry and he wants to draw our attention, it's not his design that matters, it's... something else." Will added as he paced back and forth in Hannibal's dining room, trying to put together everything he knew. "He is feeling...fuck if I know."

Hannibal sighed softly and started arranging the pictures into a pile.

"I am not done, let me pull myself together." He said as he rubbed his eyes with his palms.

"It's more than enough for tonight." Hannibal replied and as soon as ge gathered the pictures he headed towards Will and placed a hand on his forehead.

Will did not try to escape his touch.

"You're burning."

"One of my dogs got lost last night and I went to look for him. It was cold."

"Why didn't you stay home today? You could have come here, I would have cooked for you and made sure you are actually taken care of." Hannibal said and realized he might have overstepped.

"I can take care of myself."

Hannibal arched an eyebrow in a loving way. He sighed relived when Will laughed.

"As self-reliant as I am, when I was driving to work this morning I considered just coming straight to you. And I know you would have hidden me from Jack Crawford."

Hannibal's heart skipped a beat. Will had wanted to seek shelter in his home.

"I would definitely have. Why didn't you?"

"I can't just run away from work whenever I feel like it." Will said as he tapped the edge of the table with his fingers. He was fidgeting. "Besides, you can't plan your life around my problems."

What if he would just inform him that all his problems paled when it came to him? He would indeed abandon everything if Will needed something from him.

"I can certainly try. I made pancakes this morning." Hannibal said, earning another smile from Will. "Just know that I could never mind your unplanned visits."

"Thank you. If you did, you would be the worst husband in the world, anyway."

"I already feel like the worst husband in the world since we are living in two different states, darling. The least I can do is to make sure you don't ignore your fever."

"I believe the most beautiful aspect of our relationship is that we get to keep it just for us. I don't want them to know." he said, referring to Jack, Alana, Chilton, Freddie Lounds even. "They don't deserve to know."

The last sentence melted Hannibal. Even though he would have preferred to tell everyone about the fact that he has the most wonderful husband in the world, he agreed to Will's perspective. Those people really did not deserve to know. Not only because of the judgmental glances, neither of them cared about that. It was the fact that they wouldn't understand.

"Did you find your dog?"

"Yes. So stupid. Found him with a frozen squirrel. He was quite disappointed that I wasn't impressed."

"I get just as excited about my prey."

"You do." Will agreed. "I hate to say this but would it make you happier if I spent the night here?"

Hannibal thought he hadn't heard it well. He grabbed Will's hand and held it to his chest, as if he was trying to check if he had been indeed genuine.

"So you get to take care of me. And I don't feel like the worst husband in the world. And you too."

"Then neither of us is the worst in the world. Yes, that would make me very happy." Hannibal left a kiss on Will's hand.

One day I might stop driving back to my place, Will thought as for a second, the simple thought of making this man happy felt enough.

[hisfavegirl]

Fated Misconnections.

Pairing : Aegon Targaryen x Aemond Targaryen x Jacaerys Velaryon.

Chapter Summary : A week after the birth of your little brother Joffery, the whispers and abuse your mother received increased. Until she decided for you to move to Dragonstone, a decision that you reluctantly had to agree to.

The news of Rhaenyra’s decision to leave King’s Landing and return to Dragonstone reached every corner of the Red Keep. The whispers grew louder with each passing moment, and soon, everyone knew.

The air in the castle felt tense, as if something monumental was shifting.

You were in your chambers, carefully folding your clothes and placing your small belongings into a wooden chest. The soft rustle of fabric filled the quiet room. Your fingers moved slowly, as if delaying the inevitable. Every item you packed seemed to weigh heavier than the last.

Suddenly, there was a loud bang against the door. Urgent, frantic knocking.

You froze. Before you could respond, the door flew open with a loud creak.

Aegon and Aemond burst into the room. Their breaths were shallow, and their silver hair was a mess from running. Aegon’s eyes were wild, darting around the room before they landed on you and your chest of half-packed belongings. Aemond was calmer, but his eye locked onto you with an intensity that rooted you to the spot.

“No. No. You’re not leaving,” Aegon said breathlessly, storming toward you. His voice was loud, raw with emotion. He stopped right in front of you, his hands hovering near your shoulders as if he wanted to grab you but didn’t know if he should. “You can’t leave. You can’t leave us.”

“Aegon…” you sighed, glancing down at the chest. “I have to. My mother needs me. She needs all of us together.”

“She doesn’t need you,” Aegon shot back quickly, his tone sharp with desperation. His eyes searched yours, his voice cracking slightly. “Not as much as we do. Not as much as I do.”

You felt your heart tighten in your chest.

You glanced at Aemond, hoping for logic, hoping for understanding. But he wasn’t looking at the chest, nor at Aegon. He was looking directly at you. His single violet eye burned with something sharp and unspoken. He stepped forward slowly, his face unreadable but his posture tense.

“You belong here,” Aemond said firmly. His tone wasn’t as wild as Aegon’s, but it was far more resolute. “This is your home. Not Dragonstone. Here. With us.”

“My Mother says otherwise,” you replied softly. “Her place is my place. I am her daughter. I have to follow her.”

Aegon let out a bitter, humorless laugh, dragging a hand through his hair. “She’s taking you away from us! She’s taking everything from us!” His words were sharper than before, louder, laced with anger and sorrow. His eyes darted around the room again, like he was searching for something, a solution, a way to make you stay.

“We don’t care about her,” Aemond said, his voice quieter but far more dangerous. He moved closer, his steps slow but deliberate. His gaze didn’t waver from your face. “We care about you.”

“Aemond… Aegon…” you said softly, reaching for them both. You placed one hand on Aegon’s arm and the other lightly against Aemond’s chest. “You’ll always have me. No matter where I go, I’ll always be with you.”

“No, you won’t,” Aegon muttered bitterly, his head lowering so you could no longer see his eyes. His fists clenched at his sides, and his body shook slightly as if trying to hold himself together. “You’ll leave and forget about us. Just like everyone else does.”

“I would never forget you,” you said firmly, giving his arm a squeeze. “You’re my uncles. My blood. No one could ever replace you.”

Aemond’s gaze narrowed. He tilted his head, studying you, his jaw set in a hard line. He didn’t believe you. Not fully. Not with the way his fingers twitched at his side, like he was gripping the air to stop himself from grabbing hold of you.

“Don’t lie to us,” Aemond said coldly. His voice wasn’t loud, but it cut through the room like a blade. “You’re going to Dragonstone. You’ll live among them. You’ll fight for them. And one day, you’ll forget about us. You’ll forget who stood by you when you were alone.”

“That’s not true,” you said, frowning deeply. You stepped closer to him, placing a hand on his cheek. He stiffened at first, but he didn’t pull away. “You know that’s not true, Aemond.”

He didn’t answer. He just stared at you, his gaze unwavering

You stood at the edge of the ship’s deck, the cool sea breeze tangling your hair and brushing against your skin. King’s Landing grew smaller and smaller in the distance, its towering red stone walls slowly vanishing into the horizon. The proud towers of the Red Keep—a place you had called home for so long—looked smaller than ever before.

Your heart ached. No matter how much you had prepared for this moment, leaving was harder than you had expected.

You glanced over your shoulder. Your mother, Rhaenyra, sat on a cushioned bench, cradling your youngest brother, Joffrey, in her arms. Her face was calm but firm, her eyes distant as she gazed at the waves ahead. Her fingers gently stroked Joffrey’s back in soothing circles, and he yawned sleepily, his tiny hands curled into fists.

Laenor sat beside her, his gaze far away as well, though it was clear his thoughts were not on the sea. His fingers tapped against his leg in a slow, restless rhythm. He had always been like that — still on the surface but always moving within.

A soft sigh escaped your lips as you leaned against the ship’s railing, gripping the wood tightly. The familiar scents of King’s Landing — warm stone, horse sweat, and the faint tang of the harbor — were slowly replaced by the smell of salt and the endless sea.

You could still hear their voices in your head.

Aegon’s sharp, desperate words. “You’ll leave and forget about us.”

Aemond’s cold, cutting promise. “Don’t lie to us.”

Their faces lingered in your mind. The hurt in their eyes. The way Aegon’s voice cracked when he realized you were really going. The way Aemond had stared at you without blinking, like he was trying to memorize every part of you before you disappeared.

You squeezed your eyes shut, inhaling deeply. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about them.

“Are you alright, my sweet girl?”

Your mother’s voice pulled you back to the present. You turned to see her gazing at you, her head tilted in that soft, motherly way. Concern filled her eyes.

You forced a small smile. “I’m fine, Mother.”

Her gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, as if she didn’t quite believe you. But she didn’t press you. Instead, she adjusted Joffrey in her arms and glanced at the sea.

“Dragonstone will be different, but it will be home,” Rhaenyra said, her voice quiet but certain. Her eyes flicked to you, firm with the strength of a princess, but there was warmth in them too. “It will be ours. No one will question us there.”

You nodded, but your eyes flickered back toward the shrinking shape of King’s Landing, still faint on the horizon. It didn’t feel like victory. It felt like running away.

“Do you think they’ll miss us?” you asked suddenly, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Your mother’s eyes softened. She reached out, placing a gentle hand on your cheek. Her thumb stroked your skin in slow, soothing motions, just as she had done for Joffrey.

“Of course they will,” she said. “But it’s better this way. Away from the whispers. Away from the wolves.”

Her words were meant to comfort you, but they didn’t. Aegon and Aemond were not wolves. They were your uncles. They were your family.

But as the ship sailed further into the vast, open sea, you knew that family was no longer something you could count on. It was something you had to leave behind.

The journey to Dragonstone had been long and exhausting. The sway of the ship still lingered in your legs as you stood at the base of the steep stone stairs leading up to the castle. The cool sea air, sharp with the scent of salt and smoke, whipped against your face, tugging at your hair and your cloak.

Dragonstone loomed above you like a shadowed giant, its sharp, jagged towers piercing the gray sky. The castle was nothing like the Red Keep. It was rough, ancient, and carved from volcanic rock, with dragon motifs curling along its battlements. It looked more like a beast lying in wait than a home.

Your legs felt heavy, each step requiring more effort than the last. The weight of the journey pressed down on you, and the chill of the sea clung to your bones. Every muscle in your body ached, but you kept moving forward, step by step. Your breath came out in soft, visible puffs, each exhale a sign of your exhaustion.

Ahead of you, your mother, Rhaenyra, ascended the stairs with quiet strength, her posture tall and regal despite her weariness. Her silver-gold hair caught the faint sunlight, glowing like a beacon of Targaryen pride. She did not falter. She never did. Beside her, Laenor carried little Joffrey in his arms, the boy’s head resting against his shoulder as he slept, oblivious to the world.

Your brothers, Jace and Luke, climbed ahead of you, racing each other up the stairs, laughing as though they had not spent days on a swaying ship. Their giggles echoed against the stone, breaking the quiet of the wind.

“Come on, slowpoke!” Luke called back to you, grinning mischievously. “We’ll reach the top before you!”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. His energy was endless, even after everything. He always found joy, even in places where there was none.

“Careful, Lucerys,” your mother warned, her voice firm but gentle. “The stairs are steep, and a fall from here would be your last.”

Luke slowed for a moment, his grin faltering, but he continued climbing at a more careful pace.

You took another step, feeling the ache in your legs, your hands gripping the sides of your cloak to keep it from getting tangled in your feet. The air grew colder the higher you climbed, and the wind howled louder. For a moment, you stopped to catch your breath, your eyes gazing up at the towers of Dragonstone.

It wasn’t the warmth of home. Not like King’s Landing had been. It felt… distant. Quiet. Lonely.

A soft hand touched your back. You turned to see your mother beside you, her eyes filled with quiet understanding.

“Just a little more, sweet girl,” she said softly, her voice gentle as she brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. “Then we will rest. I promise.”

Her warmth gave you strength. You nodded, determination hardening your gaze, and you pushed forward, climbing the remaining stairs step by step. One step. Then another. Then another.

By the time you reached the top, your chest was heaving, and your legs felt as if they were made of stone. You stopped, placing your hands on your knees, gasping for breath.

But you had made it.

The great doors of Dragonstone stood before you — tall, dark, and unyielding. Two guards in black cloaks stood at attention, their spears firmly planted at their sides. As your mother approached, they moved aside, their eyes cast downward in respect.

Your mother glanced back at you, waiting patiently as you caught your breath. Her eyes were soft, filled with pride.

“You did well,” she said, her lips curling into a small smile. “Come, let me show you your new home.”

With slow, deliberate steps, you followed her inside. The stone halls were dimly lit, the air cooler than you expected. The flickering light of torches danced along the walls, casting long shadows that twisted into the shapes of dragons. The air smelled of fire, ash, and sea salt.

As you walked, your fingers trailed along the cold, rough stone of the walls. It wasn’t smooth like the polished marble of the Red Keep. It was raw, unrefined — but there was something powerful about it. It felt alive, ancient, as though the very stones remembered every king and queen who had lived here before you.

Your footsteps echoed through the grand halls. Luke and Jace’s laughter faded into the distance as they ran ahead, their excitement filling the space like birdsong in a forest.

“Not too far,” your mother called after them. Her voice carried authority, and the echoes of it bounced off the high stone ceilings.

You gazed up at the vaulted arches overhead, wondering how many dragons had flown above them. How many dragons had been called here. You thought of Aegon and Aemond back in King’s Landing, their faces flashing in your mind like ghosts. Would they think of you too? Would they miss you as much as you already missed them?

You shook the thoughts away. This was your new home now. Dragonstone would be your fortress, your shelter, your sanctuary.

Your mother’s hand found yours again, fingers wrapping gently around yours as she guided you down the hall. Her warmth chased away the cold stone air.

“Come,” she said. “You will have a room of your own with a view of the sea. You’ll hear the dragons at night, calling to each other.”

Her voice was soft but certain, like a lullaby.

You stepped into your new chamber, the faint creak of the heavy wooden door echoing behind you. The first thing that caught your attention was the wide, arched window on the far wall. Golden sunlight streamed through it, illuminating the cold, gray stone of the room with a soft, warm glow. You approached it slowly, drawn to the view beyond.

Stretching out before you was an endless expanse of blue — the sea, vast and unyielding, glittering like a field of sapphires beneath the midday sun. The waves rolled in a steady rhythm, their distant crashes against the shore like a song that only the sea could sing. The salty breeze brushed softly against your face, carrying with it the faint call of gulls and the distant, guttural roars of dragons from beyond the cliffs.

Your gaze lingered there for a moment longer. It was beautiful, but it was not the view you were used to. The sprawl of King’s Landing, with its bustling streets and crowded markets, had always been full of life, movement, and noise. Dragonstone was different. Quieter. Wilder. Lonely.

Behind you, you heard the soft rustling of fabric as one of your maids entered, carrying a small trunk of your belongings. She set it down near the large wooden bed before bowing her head. “Shall I help you unpack, my lady?” she asked softly, her voice respectful but distant.

You glanced back at her and gave a small nod. “Yes, please.”

For the next hour, you worked together, pulling out dresses, cloaks, and trinkets from your old life. The maid carefully folded each gown and placed them in the carved oak wardrobe by the wall. You arranged your personal items on the wooden shelf near the bed — a small figurine that Jace had given you on your nameday, a silver hair comb from your mother, and a bundle of pressed flowers from King’s Landing, gifted by Aegon before your departure. You ran your fingers over the dried petals, their colors faded but still soft to the touch.

“Do you miss them, my lady?” the maid asked as she smoothed the wrinkles from a cloak. Her voice was quiet but curious.

You blinked, glancing over at her. You didn’t need to ask who she meant. “Yes,” you admitted softly, fingers still resting on the dried flowers. “I miss them very much.”

Her eyes flickered with understanding. “You’ll get used to it,” she said gently, folding the cloak and placing it neatly on the shelf. “Dragonstone has a way of growing on you. The quiet isn’t so bad once you learn to listen to it.”

You glanced back toward the window. The sound of waves crashing below was constant, like a heartbeat. Slow. Steady. Eternal.

The days at Dragonstone passed slowly. Each morning, you woke to the sound of distant dragon calls echoing across the cliffs. The chill of the stone floor nipped at your feet as you rose from your bed. It had been almost a week since your arrival, but the silence still felt strange. Back in King’s Landing, every day had been filled with noise — the clamor of horses, the calls of merchants, and the ever-present hum of people gossiping in the halls.

Here, there was only the sea, the wind, and the dragons.

You spent much of your time walking through the castle gardens, such as they were. The “gardens” of Dragonstone were not like the lush, colorful gardens of King’s Landing. There were no roses or delicate lilies, no chirping birds or marble fountains. Instead, there were hardy plants and wildflowers that grew in the cracks of stone and the shallow soil near the cliffs. Lavender, thistles, and wild grasses swayed in the wind, strong and resilient, just like the people who lived here.

You often found yourself drawn to one particular path that led to the edge of the cliffs. From there, you could see the sea stretching endlessly in every direction. The spray of saltwater brushed against your skin when the waves crashed against the rocks below. Sometimes, you would spot the dragons flying overhead — shadows moving across the clouds with the beating of mighty wings.

“It feels as though the world is holding its breath,” you thought to yourself as you gazed out at the sea one afternoon. The wind tugged at your hair, carrying with it the distant roar of a dragon. It wasn’t like King’s Landing, where there was always something happening. Here, everything was slower. Quieter. Too quiet.

At times, you wondered if your uncles missed you. Aegon and Aemond had been the hardest to leave behind. Aegon, with his carefree charm and playful smirks, had always found ways to make you laugh, bringing you little gifts or flowers as if you were a princess in one of his songs. Aemond, quieter but no less thoughtful, had a way of watching over you without saying a word. His gifts were more deliberate — a book, a polished stone, a carved figure of a dragon. He never said much, but he was always there.

You wondered if they felt your absence as much as you felt theirs.

One afternoon, as you sat near the cliffs, pulling wildflowers from the cracks in the stone, Jace and Luke ran up to you, breathless from play. Their cheeks were flushed, and their hair stuck out in wild tufts from the sea breeze.

“Come see!” Luke shouted, grabbing your hand and tugging at you. “There’s a cave! Jace found it, and it looks like dragon eggs might be inside!”

You arched an eyebrow, doubt flickering across your face. “Dragon eggs?”

Jace crossed his arms, his face filled with pride. “It could be! Maester says dragons sometimes leave them hidden in caves. Come on, you have to see it!”

They pulled you along, their excitement too strong to resist. Their laughter echoed down the stone corridors as they guided you toward the cliffs. For the first time in days, you felt something stir in your heart — a flicker of joy, of adventure, of belonging.

When you reached the cave, it was little more than a hollow carved into the side of the cliff, narrow and dark. Luke was already crawling inside, calling back to you, “Come on, it’s not that small!”

You crouched down, looking into the cave’s narrow entrance. It was damp, the air thick with the smell of wet stone and seaweed. Jace crouched beside you, his eyes bright with mischief.

“Are you afraid?” he asked, his grin teasing.

“Of course not,” you said, raising your chin. “But if a dragon is hiding in there, I hope it eats you first.”

Jace laughed, and the sound was so familiar — so normal. You followed them inside, your heart thudding in your chest. For the first time since arriving at Dragonstone, it didn’t feel so lonely.

That night, as you sat around the dining table with your family, the dim glow of the hearthfire flickered softly against the stone walls of Dragonstone’s dining hall. The quiet hum of dinner conversation was broken by the sound of heavy footsteps approaching.

One of the guards entered, his armor clinking softly with every step. He bowed his head respectfully before approaching your mother, Rhaenyra, and placed a sealed letter in her hand. The wax seal bore the mark of House Velaryon — the sigil of the seahorse pressed into deep blue wax.

“From Driftmark, my princess,” the guard announced before stepping back into position by the door.

Rhaenyra’s eyes lingered on the seal for a moment longer than usual, her thumb brushing over it slowly. Something about it made her pause. Her brows furrowed slightly as she broke the seal and unfolded the letter, her eyes scanning the words with growing intensity.

The room grew quiet.

You glanced at your mother, watching her face shift from calm focus to something more troubled — her lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes hardening. Her fingers tensed on the parchment.

“What is it?” Laenor asked from across the table, his gaze narrowing in concern. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table, his eyes locked on her.

Your mother didn’t answer immediately. Her gaze flickered to you, Jace, Luke, and Joffrey. Her eyes softened, but there was something in them you didn’t quite understand — something distant. She glanced at Laenor and then back at the letter in her hand, as if weighing her words.

Finally, she took a steady breath and folded the letter in her lap. Her gaze remained downcast for a moment longer before she lifted her eyes to meet Laenor’s.

“Leana is dead,” she said softly, her voice steady but burdened with grief.

The silence that followed was absolute. You felt a chill crawl up your spine as the weight of her words settled into the room. Your hands, which had been resting on the table, slowly curled into fists on your lap.

“No,” Laenor muttered, his face contorting in disbelief. He blinked several times, as if trying to convince himself he had misheard her. His lips parted, his breathing growing unsteady. “No, that can’t be right.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes met his with quiet sorrow. “She died in childbirth.” Her voice was gentle, but her words cut sharper than any blade. “The babe did not survive either.”

Laenor’s face crumpled. His hands gripped the edge of the table so tightly his knuckles turned white. He hung his head, his shoulders trembling. His breath came in shallow, uneven huffs as he tried to contain himself, but his grief was too heavy. He closed his eyes, as if doing so might block out the pain.

Your heart ached as you watched him. Leana was his sister. And though you had not known her as well as he had, you knew what family meant.

Jace and Luke looked at each other, both confused and worried. Luke tugged at Jace’s sleeve, whispering, “What does it mean? What happened to Auntie Leana?”

Jace didn’t answer. His face was blank, his eyes distant, but you could see the subtle shift in his expression — the quiet understanding that someone was gone, someone important.

Your mother reached for Laenor’s hand, her fingers curling over his knuckles. She squeezed gently. “Corlys and Rhaenys have called for us to attend the funeral tomorrow at Driftmark.”

Driftmark.

The name of the Velaryon seat rang in your mind like a distant bell. It was a place you’d only visited a few times, but you remembered its rocky shores and stormy skies. It wasn’t a place of warmth. It was a place of power, of salt and stone.

Laenor said nothing for a long time. His head remained bowed, his breath shallow but steady. His other hand ran down his face, wiping at his eyes. You’d never seen him like this before — broken.

“I’ll be ready,” he muttered at last, his voice strained. He didn’t look up.

Your mother gave his hand another squeeze before letting go. Her eyes flickered back to you and your brothers. Her gaze was soft but firm. “You will all accompany us.”

You nodded, your throat tight. You felt something heavy in your chest — an ache you didn’t fully understand. It wasn’t your grief, not really. But it was the grief of your family, and you felt its weight all the same.

Luke sniffled, wiping his nose on his sleeve. Jace’s jaw was tight, his hands folded in front of him. You glanced at Joffrey in his cradle, still too young to understand the weight of the world he had been born into.

That night, the warmth of the hearth didn’t feel as strong. The food tasted duller. The quietness of the hall felt heavier.

You went to bed early, curling into your blankets, but sleep did not come easily. Images of the sea filled your mind — crashing waves and distant cliffs, the stormy shores of Driftmark. You wondered if Leana had been afraid, if she had known her end was near. You wondered if she had called for her daughters, or for Daemon.

Daemon.

You thought of him too. You had only met him a few times, but he was impossible to forget. Daemon Targaryen was fire wrapped in flesh — dangerous, unpredictable, and wild. He had a look in his eyes like he belonged to no one but himself.

Would he be at Driftmark tomorrow?

The thought of it stirred something uneasy in your heart.

Tomorrow, you would stand on those cold, stormy shores. You would watch the sea claim another soul. And you knew, deep down, that nothing would ever be the same after that.

Driftmark greeted you with an atmosphere as heavy as the waves crashing against its jagged shores. The sea, usually an endless expanse of strength and power, seemed furious today — its waves clawing at the rocks as if mourning alongside the living. The sky was a dull gray, mirroring the somber mood that hung over the island.

You sat in the carriage beside your mother and father, the rhythmic clatter of the horses’ hooves blending with the distant roar of the sea. The inside of the carriage was silent, save for the faint creak of its wooden frame as it swayed gently with every turn.

Your eyes drifted to your father, who sat across from you, his head leaning back against the cushioned seat. His face was pale, his usually vibrant expression replaced by one of emptiness.

Laenor Velaryon — a man known for his charm and laughter — looked hollow. His eyes were rimmed with red, and his cheeks bore the faint traces of dried tears. You had never seen him like this before. It was unsettling to see someone so full of life now sitting so still, so consumed by grief.

You didn’t know what to say. You wanted to comfort him, to reach out and take his hand, but the words caught in your throat. Instead, you settled for watching him, hoping your silent presence would be enough.

Your mother, Rhaenyra, sat beside him, her hand resting lightly on his arm. She didn’t speak either, but her eyes were filled with quiet concern as they flickered between him and the window. You could tell she wanted to ease his pain, but she, too, seemed unsure of how to reach him.

The carriage jolted slightly as it hit a bump in the road, pulling Laenor from his thoughts. His gaze shifted to the window, where the jagged cliffs of Driftmark loomed closer. The great castle of High Tide was visible in the distance, its dark silhouette standing firm against the restless sea.

“She loved this place,” Laenor muttered suddenly, his voice hoarse.

Your mother turned to him, her brows furrowing. “What?”

“Laena,” he said, his voice cracking as he spoke her name. “She loved Driftmark. Even when we were children. She would always run to the cliffs, no matter how many times she was told it was dangerous.” He let out a soft, bitter laugh. “She wasn’t afraid of anything.”

Rhaenyra’s expression softened, and she reached for his hand, squeezing it gently. “She was brave,” she agreed quietly. “A true Velaryon.”

Laenor nodded, but his eyes remained fixed on the window. You could see the grief etched into every line of his face, the weight of loss bearing down on him like a storm.

You glanced back out the window, watching as the sea grew closer. The salty air stung your nostrils, and the distant sound of waves crashing against the rocks filled your ears. It felt as if the island itself was mourning.

As the carriage slowed to a halt in the courtyard of High Tide, you took a deep breath and looked at your father one last time before stepping out. His shoulders were slumped, his eyes distant, but he managed to rise and follow your mother without a word.

The courtyard was bustling with activity, mourners dressed in black moving solemnly toward the castle. You spotted Corlys Velaryon, your grandfather, standing at the entrance, his face grim and unreadable. Beside him was Rhaenys, your grandmother, her expression a mask of calm composure, though her red-rimmed eyes betrayed her sorrow.

The world felt heavier here, as if Driftmark itself was bowing under the weight of grief. You felt small amidst it all — a child in a world of sorrow and loss.

Your mother reached for your hand, guiding you toward the entrance. The sound of the sea grew louder in your ears, and you couldn’t help but glance over your shoulder at the cliffs in the distance. Somewhere out there, the waves would soon claim your aunt’s body, taking her back to the sea she had loved so much.

Before the ceremony began, you found yourself wandering through the courtyard of High Tide, the somber atmosphere weighing heavily on your small frame. The salty breeze carried whispers of grief, mingling with the faint murmur of guests gathering for the funeral.

Your eyes scanned the crowd until they landed on two familiar figures—your uncles, Aegon and Aemond. They stood near one of the stone archways, their silver hair catching the dim light. But something felt off.

Neither of them looked at you, nor did they greet you. Aegon stared off into the distance, his expression unreadable, while Aemond’s face was stoic, his arms crossed over his chest. They didn’t smile, didn’t acknowledge your presence—as if you were invisible to them.

Your heart sank a little, confusion and hurt bubbling inside you. Had you done something wrong?

Before you could muster the courage to approach them, a soft voice called your name. Turning, you saw Alicent, your grandmother, walking toward you. She looked elegant even in her mourning attire, her emerald-green dress a stark contrast to the black-clad mourners around her.

When she reached you, she bent slightly to meet your gaze, her face softening into a warm smile. “My sweet girl,” she said, her tone gentle. “I’ve missed you so much.”

You managed a small smile in return, her familiar presence soothing some of your unease. “I’ve missed you too, your grace,” you replied.

Alicent reached out and brushed a strand of hair from your face. “You’ve grown even more beautiful,” she said, her voice tinged with pride. Then, with a glance toward your uncles, her expression turned more serious.

“They’ll come around,” she said softly, as if sensing your thoughts. “Aegon and Aemond… they’re still upset about you leaving for Dragonstone. They don’t understand why you had to go.”

Her words made your chest tighten. “I didn’t want to leave,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of the waves.

“I know,” Alicent said, cupping your cheek. “But you did what was right—what your mother needed. They’ll see that in time.”

You nodded, though the ache in your heart didn’t fade completely. Alicent gave you a reassuring smile before pulling you into a gentle hug. Her warmth was a small comfort amidst the cold grief that surrounded you.

When she released you, she smoothed down her dress and said, “Come now, let us go inside. The ceremony will begin soon.”

As she guided you toward the hall, you stole one last glance at Aegon and Aemond. Aegon was still distant, his gaze unfocused, while Aemond’s jaw was tight, his expression unreadable. They didn’t look your way as you passed, but you held onto Alicent’s words, hoping that one day, things would be as they once were.

The funeral ceremony had concluded, leaving the air heavy with sorrow and the salty tang of the sea. You found yourself seated on a stone bench near the gardens of High Tide, the faint crash of waves providing a somber backdrop.

Beside you sat Baela and Rhaena, their faces still streaked with tears as they clung to one another. You placed a comforting hand on Baela’s, your voice gentle as you spoke.

“Everything will be alright,” you said, though a part of you wasn’t entirely sure. The weight of grief hung thick in the air, and you could feel the tension between the gathered family members. Still, you wanted to provide some comfort for the two girls who had just lost their mother.

Baela gave you a small, grateful smile, though her eyes betrayed her heartbreak. Rhaena leaned against her twin, her silence speaking volumes.

As you turned your gaze away from them to let them grieve in peace, a strange sensation washed over you—a feeling of being watched.

You shifted uneasily, your hands fidgeting in your lap, and slowly turned your head to search for the source of the sensation. Your eyes scanned the gathered mourners, the stone walls, and the shadows of the hall… until they landed on Daemon Targaryen.

He stood apart from the others, his arms crossed over his chest, his silver hair catching the dim light of the torches. His piercing gaze was fixed on you, his expression unreadable.

There was nothing harsh or threatening in his eyes, but the intensity of his stare made your heartbeat quicken. He wasn’t looking at anyone else—just you.

You quickly looked away, your cheeks warming under his scrutiny. Why was he watching you? What did he see?

Baela noticed your shift in demeanor and placed a hand on your arm. “What’s wrong?” she asked softly, her voice filled with concern.

“Nothing,” you replied quickly, forcing a small smile. “Just tired.”

Baela nodded, accepting your answer, but as the night wore on, you couldn’t shake the feeling of Daemon’s eyes following you. Even as the mourners began to disperse and the hall grew quieter, his presence lingered in your thoughts.

You returned to the chamber your grandfather had arranged for you, the weight of the day still heavy on your shoulders. When you opened the door, a wave of relief washed over you as you spotted Helaena sitting on the edge of the bed. She looked up at you with her usual soft, dreamlike smile, and you couldn’t help but smile back.

“Helaena!” you exclaimed, running over to her. Without hesitation, you wrapped your arms around her, pulling her into a tight embrace.

“I missed you,” she said quietly, resting her chin on your shoulder.

“I missed you too,” you replied, pulling back slightly to look at her. “It feels like it’s been so long.”

Helaena nodded, her violet eyes shimmering with a mixture of joy and melancholy. “The Red Keep feels different without you. It’s quieter.”

You both sat down on the bed, the day’s exhaustion momentarily forgotten as you caught up with her. Helaena talked about her days in the Keep, how she spent her time wandering the gardens, chasing butterflies, and reading in her favorite hidden corners. You told her about the journey to Dragonstone and how much you missed having her by your side.

The hours seemed to melt away as the two of you laughed and shared secrets, just as you always did. There was a sense of comfort in being with Helaena—a feeling that, no matter what happened in the world outside, you would always have each other.

When the moon hung high in the sky and the candles burned low, Helaena glanced at you hesitantly. “Do you mind if I stay here tonight?” she asked softly. “I don’t really want to be alone.”

You smiled warmly and nodded. “I’d like that. I don’t want to be alone either.”

Helaena’s face lit up at your response, and she quickly moved to lie down beside you. You both snuggled under the thick blankets, the chill of Driftmark’s sea air forgotten in the warmth of your shared companionship.

As you lay there, you felt her hand brush against yours, and you turned to see her staring up at the ceiling. “Do you think things will ever go back to how they were before?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

You hesitated, unsure of how to answer. “Maybe not,” you admitted softly. “But as long as we have each other, it’ll be alright.”

Helaena turned her head to look at you, her lips curving into a small smile. “You’re right,” she said, her voice filled with quiet determination.

With that, the two of you closed your eyes, the bond between you stronger than ever. The world outside might have been chaotic and uncertain, but here, in this small room, you found peace.

The sharp knock on your door stirred you from your sleep. The darkness outside the window told you it was still deep in the night. Confused and slightly disoriented, you got up and opened the door to find Ser Criston Cole standing there, his expression grim and urgent.

“Princesses you must come to the grand hall at once,” he said, his voice low but commanding.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, a knot forming in your stomach.

“Prince Aemond has been injured. Gravely,” he replied, refusing to elaborate further.

Your breath hitched as you quickly woke Helaena, explaining as best as you could before the two of you hurried down the dimly lit corridors of Driftmark. The tension in the air seemed to grow heavier with every step, and your heart pounded with dread.

When you entered the grand hall, the sight before you made you stop in your tracks. The room was a whirlwind of chaos and emotions. Your mother, Rhaenyra, stood protectively in front of Luke, who looked shaken but defiant. Blood smeared his face, his small hands trembling at his sides. Across the room, Alicent knelt beside Aemond, whose face was partially obscured by a bloodied cloth. Even from the distance, you could see the raw wound where his left eye had been.

Your heart sank. The sight of Aemond—proud, cold Aemond—reduced to this state sent a pang of guilt and sadness through you. But then Alicent’s voice broke through, sharp and accusatory.

“Your son,” she hissed, pointing at Luke, “has maimed mine. He has taken his eye!”

Your mother’s voice was equally sharp as she retorted, “Your son provoked him! He called my sons bastards! He stole Vhagar from Baela and Rhaena without a thought!”

The words hit you like a blow, and your gaze instinctively turned to Aemond. His remaining eye burned with fury, but beneath it, you could see something else—pain and anger, yes, but also a sense of defiance.

“Is it a lie?” Aemond’s voice, though pained, was clear and strong. “They are bastards.”

The words made your chest tighten painfully, and you looked toward Aegon, who stood beside his brother. His face was stony, but he didn’t deny the accusation.

The air grew thick with tension as you stood there, caught between your loyalty to your family and the ache in your heart for your uncles. Your hands trembled slightly as you tried to keep your emotions in check.

“Why would you say that?” you finally managed, your voice quiet but filled with hurt as you looked at Aemond and then at Aegon. “Why would you say something so cruel?”

Neither of them answered, but Aemond’s eye met yours, and for a brief moment, you saw something flicker there—regret, perhaps? Or maybe it was just the pain from his injury.

“Enough!” came the voice of King Viserys, who had entered the hall, his face pale and his expression furious. “This family has bled enough tonight! I will have no more accusations, no more fighting!”

But even as the King demanded peace, the damage was done. The rift between the two sides of your family deepened that night, and though you tried to hide it, the pain lingered in your chest. The words they had spoken echoed in your mind long after the hall had fallen silent.

The salty sea breeze brushed against your face as you stood on the edge of the Driftmark dock, watching the sails of the departing ships grow smaller in the distance. Above them, the silhouettes of three dragons glided across the skies, the mighty beasts casting long shadows on the waves below. Aegon, Aemond, and Helaena were leaving, and with them, any fragile semblance of unity that once existed in your family.

You stood beside your mother, her face stoic but her eyes betraying the turmoil within. Blood had been spilled, bonds had been broken, and the rift between your family and the Greens seemed irreparable now.

For a moment, you turned your gaze to Daemon, who stood not far from you and your mother. He leaned casually against a pillar, his expression unreadable, but his presence was a reminder of the man who had always been on the edges of your life, observing but rarely intervening.

Looking back at the horizon, you let out a quiet sigh. “May I go check on Luke?” you asked, turning to your mother.

Rhaenyra tore her gaze away from the sea to look at you. Her lips curved into a small, strained smile as she nodded. “Of course, my sweet girl. Make sure he knows he’s safe.”

You curtsied lightly before stepping away, your steps echoing softly against the stone dock as you made your way back toward the castle. Your heart ached for Luke, who must be feeling the weight of everything that had transpired. Aemond’s eye was gone, and Luke’s actions—though unintentional—had caused it.

As you entered the castle, the cool, dim corridors wrapped around you like a protective shield. You found Luke sitting in a small alcove near one of the windows, his knees pulled to his chest and his arms wrapped around them. His face was buried, but his quiet sniffles reached your ears.

“Luke,” you called softly, your voice gentle as you approached him.

He lifted his head slightly, his tear-streaked face turning toward you. “It’s all my fault,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “I didn’t mean to… I didn’t mean to hurt him.”

You knelt beside him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I know you didn’t,” you said, your voice soothing. “But it wasn’t just your fault. Aemond made his choices too. What happened was a tragedy, but it doesn’t make you a bad person, Luke.”

He looked at you, his wide, innocent eyes searching for reassurance. “Do you think he’ll hate me forever?”

You hesitated, knowing the truth was more complicated than a simple yes or no. “I don’t know what Aemond will feel in the future,” you admitted honestly. “But what matters now is that we’re a family, and we stand by each other. You’re not alone, Luke. None of us are.”

He leaned into you, seeking comfort, and you wrapped your arms around him, holding him close. In the aftermath of chaos, all you could do was offer him your strength and hope that, in time, the wounds within your family might begin to heal.

Tag list : @danytar @julessworldd @hangmanscoming @giirlinblack @yazzzmints

[mattsobvimyfav]

roommates (matthew sturniolo)

pt 18 -

I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his question. My chest tightened as I tried to put my chaotic thoughts into words. “I don’t know, Matt,” I admitted, “I don’t want a label. Not right now. It’s too soon, and everything is too messy. I just… I want to live and have fun. I don’t want to be tied down to anything right now.”

His expression faltered, and he looked down at the floor, his shoulders slumping. The defeat in his posture stung, but I couldn’t lie to him.

After a long moment, Matt let out a deep breath and walked over to me. He dropped to his knees in front of the couch, resting his head on my knees. The sudden vulnerability in his actions caught me off guard.

“Okay,” he said quietly, his voice softer now. “If that’s what you want, I get it. But can we at least start over? Forget all the shit that’s happened between us. Pretend we’ve never met and start fresh. No history, just a clean slate.”

I stared down at him, my heart twisting. His forehead was pressed against my legs, and his hands rested lightly on my knees, like he was grounding himself in the moment. There was no anger in his tone now.

I reached out hesitantly, brushing a strand of his dark hair from his face. “You really think we can do that?” I asked softly.

He lifted his head slightly, his eyes locking onto mine. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I want to try. I’m tired of all this fighting, of all this back and forth. I just want to know who you are without all the baggage. I think you’d want that too. I know I'm a dick to you but Ill try if you do.”

His words hit me hard, and I nodded slowly. “Okay,” I whispered. “Let’s try.”

Later on that night, Matt emerged from the bathroom, his hair damp from washing his face and dressed in a simple pair of plaid pajama pants and a black t-shirt. He paused when he saw me already tucked under the covers, my legs curled up and my phone abandoned on the nightstand.

I glanced up at him, feeling oddly shy after the emotional rollercoaster of the night. “Hey,” I said softly, shifting a little to sit up against the headboard. “Before we go to sleep, can we… I don’t know, maybe watch some of your YouTube videos? On the TV?”

Matt’s eyebrows lifted slightly in surprise, but a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You want to watch them? Again?” he teased lightly, moving toward his side of the room.

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t help the grin that crept across my face. “Yeah, I do. They’re funny, and it’s kind of cool seeing that side of you and your brothers.”

Matt nodded. “Alright, yeah. Let me grab the remote.” He picked it up from his desk and switched on the TV, pulling up their channel.

As the familiar intro music played, he climbed into his bed across from mine, propping himself up against the wall. He glanced over at me “Just so you know, I’ll deny this if you ever tell Nick or Chris I actually enjoy showing these to you.”

I laughed, settling into my pillow as I focused on the screen. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

We sat in comfortable silence as the video started, the room filled with the sound of the triplets’ banter. Every now and then, Matt would glance over to see if I was laughing, his own smile widening whenever he caught me giggling.

We watched them for about an hour before I fell asleep to the sound of Nick’s yelling. Matt shut the TV off before going to bed himself. 

The next morning, I woke up to the soft sound of Matt shuffling around the dorm room. The sunlight streaming through the blinds made me squint as I stretched under the covers, my body still tired from everything that had happened the night before.

“Morning,” Matt said, glancing over at me from his desk where he was scrolling through his phone. 

“Morning,” I mumbled, sitting up and running a hand through my hair. “What time is it?”

“Almost ten. I figured you needed the sleep, so I didn’t wake you,” he said with a small shrug. “Nick is coming later today, so we’ve got the morning to ourselves. You hungry?”

I nodded, rubbing my eyes. “Starving.”

Matt set his phone down and leaned back in his chair. “Wanna hit up that diner off campus? The one with the pancakes the size of your head?”

“You had me at pancakes, they’re the best.” I said with a grin, sliding out of bed.

“Waffles are better but whatever you say,” he teases.

After quickly getting dressed and throwing my hair into a messy bun, we headed out. The diner was bustling with students, but we managed to snag a booth near the window. Matt ordered waffles, while I went with the classic chocolate chip pancake stack.

After breakfast, we decided to walk around campus. The crisp fall air felt refreshing, and the leaves crunching beneath our feet made everything feel so serene. At one point, Matt stopped near a bench and pointed out a squirrel attempting to drag an oversized acorn up a tree.

“See? That’s me trying to carry the team during practice,” he joked, earning a laugh from me.

“Oh, please. You’ve got Chris for that,” I teased back, nudging him with my elbow.

We eventually made our way back to the dorm, where Nick and Chris were unloading a bunch of camera equipment into our room.

“Perfect timing,” Nick said, spotting us. “We’ve got a new video idea, and you two are helping.”

Matt groaned. “Do I even want to know what it is?”

Chris smirked. “It just a normal Q&A. But first we need to talk about what happened last night” He turned pointing at me

We walked out of my dorm and down to his.

Chris closed the door behind me and crossed his arms, standing a few feet away. “I don’t want to drag this out,” he said, breaking the silence. “I think we both know things got… messy.”

“Messy is putting it extremely fucking light,” I said, my voice tinged with bitterness.

He nodded, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Yeah, it got ugly. But I don’t want to keep holding onto it. You don’t deserve to be caught up in all this, and honestly, neither do I. I screwed up, you screwed up—we both did.”

I sighed, crossing my arms as I looked at him. “So what are you saying?”

“I’m saying let’s put it all in the past,” he said firmly. “No more talking about what happened, no more drama. We move.”

I studied him for a moment, trying to gauge how serious he was. There was a weight in his expression, but also a sense of relief.

“Can you actually do that?” I asked, tilting my head. 

Chris gave a small, humorless laugh. “I’m trying, aren’t I? Look, I don’t want to keep feeling like this. It’s exhausting. And I know you don’t either.”

I exhaled, the tension in my shoulders easing. “Fine. Clean slate. But no more games, Chris. No more complications.”

“No more complications,” he agreed.

We stood there for a moment, an unspoken understanding passing between us. 

“Well, we should get back,” I said, pushing off the desk.

“Yeah your right” He agreed as he opened the door holding it for me.

The boys prepared to film their YouTube video. Our dorm had been transformed into a mini studio—ring light glowing in the corner, the trusty camera perched on a tripod.

Nick sat on the couch, on his phone, while Matt tinkered with the camera. Chris stood by the window, cracking jokes to anyone who would listen.

“Alright, we’ve got everything set up. Nick, you’re not bailing early this time, so no excuses,” Matt said, adjusting the frame on the camera and glancing over at his brother.

“I wasn’t going to bail,” Nick replied, rolling his eyes. “It’s always me you guys blame.”

“Because it’s always you, dickhead” Chris said, grabbing a pillow and tossing it at Nick.

“Guys,” I interjected from my spot on Matt’s desk, “Focus.”

“She’s the only responsible one here.” Chris said with a grin.

“Responsible?” I teased.

“Alright, alright,” Matt interrupted, clapping his hands. “Let’s get this started before Chris decides to monologue again.”

The three of them plopped onto the couch, their banter filling the room as Matt hit record. “What’s up, everyone!” Chris started, leaning forward into the camera with his trademark grin. “We’re back with another video because you guys won’t leave us alone about doing a Q&A.”

“Seriously, the comments are getting aggressive,” Nick joked, making a mock-serious face.

Matt grabbed his phone and read the first question. “‘Which triplet would win in a fight?’”

“Oh, that’s easy,” Nick said, pointing to himself.

“Yeah, right,” Chris countered. “You’d trip over your own feet before the fight even started.”

“Excuse me, I did hockey in elementary school, thank you very much,” Nick shot back, earning laughs from everyone in the room.

The video carried on with its usual chaotic energy. They answered questions about their favorite childhood memories, and embarrassing moments.

Every now and then, the camera would pan to me for a “neutral party” opinion. “Y/N,” Matt said, pointing dramatically, “settle this: who’s the funniest?”

“Oh no,” I said, shaking my head with a grin. “I’m not getting involved in this one.” I started mouthing and pointing that is was Nick.

“Exactly,” Nick teased.

“Smart,” Chris said, leaning back and smirking. Not even noticing I said Nick “She knows it’s me, though.”

As they wrapped up the video, the energy in the room didn’t fade. Instead of packing up, the triplets decided to order pizza.

Nick leaned back on the couch, scrolling through TikTok while Chris flipped through the Q&A submissions they hadn’t gotten to. Matt moved the camera aside, turning to me with a rare relaxed smile. “So, what’d you think? You’ve been here for the filming. Did you like it?”

“Definitely,” I replied, laughing. 

Nick glanced over at me with a sly grin. “Hey, Y/N, you wanna help me edit this? I could use a second opinion.”

I chuckled, shrugging. “Sure, why not? But if this crashes and burns, don’t blame me.”

Nick grabbed his laptop and plopped down on the couch, gesturing for me to join him. Chris and Matt were already halfway out the door, arguing about who knows what.

“Don’t take forever!” Nick yelled after them before turning back to me. “Okay, let’s make this somewhat coherent.”

We settled in, and Nick opened the editing software. The raw footage was hilariously unfiltered—Chris making ridiculous faces at the camera, Matt tripping over air while setting up, and Nick accidentally recording a full minute of his shoes.

“Wow, professionals,” I teased.

“You’d think we’d fucking have this down by now,” he replied, laughing. “But honestly, It’s like endearing stupidity.”

We sifted through the clips, trimming the dead air. Every now and then, Nick would pause a frame to make a sarcastic comment.

“Look at Matt’s face here,” he said, pointing to a still of Matt mid-sneeze. “Should we make this the thumbnail?”

I burst out laughing. “Absolutely. Nothing screams ‘must-watch content’ like that.”

As we worked, the conversation drifted. Nick started talking about his time at school, leaning back against the couch cushions as he clicked through the timeline.

“It’s weird sometimes,” he admitted, his tone a little more serious. “Like, having this YouTube thing is great, but it's weird.”

I tilted my head, watching him. “What do you mean?”

“We are growing.. And fast, a couple days ago we had fifty thousand and we are already at seventy thousand. People on tik tok post our clips and it's giving us mad clout. Literally 20 thousand people subscribed to us within a fucking day?” he said, shrugging. “I mean, I love doing it. It’s fun, and it’s ours, you know? But I don't know if it'll work out or if this is just our fifteen minutes you know?”

“That makes sense,” I said softly.

He glanced over at me, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I always make sense”

We kept editing, falling into an easy rhythm. Nick’s sharp sense of humor and relaxed demeanor made it fun, and before we knew it, the video was coming together.

By the time Chris and Matt returned with the pizza, Nick and I were laughing over a particularly absurd moment where Chris accidentally hit himself in the face.

“What’d we miss?” Matt asked, setting the boxes on the coffee table.

“Pure comedy gold,” Nick replied, smirking. “You’ll see soon enough.”

Chris raised an eyebrow. “I don’t trust that.”

“Trust me,” I said, grinning. “It’s perfect.”

As the smell of pizza filled the room, Nick saved the project. 

After the video upload was set in motion, the energy in the room began to shift to that cozy, late-night vibe. Chris stretched dramatically, standing up from his spot on the couch.

“Alright, we’ve done enough hard work for one day,” he said, grinning. “Time for some Mario Kart to prove, once again, that I’m the reigning champion.”

Nick scoffed. “You’re only ‘reigning champion’ because Matt doesn’t know how to drift properly.”

Matt scoffed. “I do know how to drift. You just cheat.”

“Sure, kid,” Chris said, walking over to set up the Nintendo Switch. “Y/N, you’re playing. No excuses.”

I laughed, pulling the blanket tighter around me. “I’m pretty sure I’ve only played Mario Kart, like, twice in my life. Prepare to be disappointed.”

“That just means you’ll beat Matt,” Nick teased, earning himself a glare.

We all settled in, controllers in hand, the screen lighting up the room as the familiar Mario Kart music played. Chris picked Donkey Kong, Nick went with Yoshi, Matt picked Luigi, and I chose Princess Peach because her kart was pink, and I figured I might as well go all in.

The first race was chaos. I somehow ended up in first place for about five seconds before being hit with a red shell—courtesy of Chris, who couldn’t stop laughing about it.

“Welcome to Mario Kart, Y/N,” he said, smug.

By the second race, I’d started to get the hang of it. Nick kept trying to coach me, yelling advice like, “Use the mushroom now!” or “Don’t fall off Rainbow Road!” which, of course, I promptly did.

“See? This is why Rainbow Road is banned from tournaments,” I joked, earning a round of laughter.

After several rounds (and Chris smugly retaining his so-called championship), we called it a night for gaming.

“Alright, what now?” Nick asked, leaning back against the couch.

Chris shrugged. “We could watch another movie.”

After some debate, we decided to make ice cream sundaes instead. Chris pulled out a pint of cookie dough ice cream from the mini-fridge, while Matt went to the dining hall to get toppings like sprinkles and chocolate syrup.

Once we all had our sundaes, we returned to the couch, the conversation flowing easily. We talked about everything—funny childhood stories, embarrassing moments, and plans for the next few weeks.

“Okay, but seriously,” I said, between bites of ice cream. “Who decided that Rainbow Road was a good idea for beginners? That map is evil.”

Chris chuckled. “It builds character.”

“Or trauma,” Nick added, making us all laugh.

By the time we finally started winding down, it was nearly 2 a.m. Chris had fallen asleep sprawled across the floor, while Nick was half-asleep on the couch. Matt looked over at me.

“Told you tonight would be fun,” he said quietly.

I smiled back. “Yeah, it really was.”

I snuggled into my pillow and watched some tik tok on my phone before drifting off to sleep.

The next morning, the sun peeked through the blinds as we all stirred awake. The room smelled faintly of leftover pizza, and the energy was slow and lazy. Nick was the first to get up, stretching and groaning about his drive back.

“You guys better FaceTime me later,” he said, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “And, Matt, don’t be an idiot.”

Matt rolled his eyes. “I never am.”

Chris snorted. “Sure, you’re not.”

Nick pulled me into a quick hug before heading out. “Take care of these two,” he whispered jokingly. “They’re a lot.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got them under control,” I replied with a grin.

Once Nick was gone, the dorm felt a little quieter, though the buzz of the morning kept us moving. Chris left to go take a shower in his own dorm. That left Matt and me alone in our dorm.

Matt leaned against the wall, eyeing me thoughtfully. “So, uh, today’s a special day for the team.”

I raised an eyebrow. “What makes it special?”

“It’s ‘Bring a Girl to Practice’ day,” he said with a smirk.

I laughed. “That sounds ridiculous. What, like a ‘Take Your Daughter to Work’ thing?”

He shrugged. “Kind of, but it’s more fun. We get to mess around a bit, and honestly, some of the guys’ girlfriends are terrible skaters. It’s hilarious to watch.”

“And you’re telling me this because…?” I trailed off, eyeing him suspiciously.

“Because you’re actually good at skating,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “And, I don’t know, it might be fun to have you there. Plus, I need someone to prove that I’m not the worst skater on the ice.”

I tilted my head, pretending to think. “Hmm, tempting offer. So, I’m supposed to just show up and skate circles around all these girls?”

“Exactly,” he said, grinning now. “You’ll make me look good.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t hide the smile forming. “Alright, fine. But if you embarrass me, I’m walking off the ice.”

Matt chuckled. “Deal. Practice starts at 2. Be ready to go.”

The rest of the morning passed quickly as I got ready, excited but slightly nervous about what I’d gotten myself into. Skating was something I hadn’t done in a while, but I had a feeling it was going to be a fun afternoon.

As I zipped up my jacket, a sudden thought struck me like lightning. Charlie! Why hadn’t I thought of her before? She’d love something like this—and it’d be hilarious to get her on the ice.

Without a second thought, I darted out of the dorm and ran straight to Chris’s room, knocking frantically on his door.

Chris opened it, his hair wet, clearly just out of the shower. “Yo, what’s up??”

“I have a favor to ask,” I said, leaning against the doorframe to catch my breath.

His eyes narrowed in suspicion. “What kind of favor?”

“Bring Charlie as your girl to practice,” I blurted.

Chris stared at me for a moment. “You’re joking, right?”

“Nope,” I said with a grin. “It’ll be fun! She’s never been on the ice before, and you two will have a great time.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I was going to bring Katie.”

I crossed my arms, the grin slipping from my face. “Seriously, Chris? You’re still seeing her after everything?”

He groaned. “It’s not like that. She was just going to come for fun.”

“Well, now Charlie is coming for fun,” I said firmly. 

Chris looked at me for a long moment before shaking his head with a small laugh. “Fine.”

“Perfect!” I said, already texting Charlie to get ready. “You won’t regret this, I promise.”

By 2 PM, Charlie and I were walking into the rink, both decked out in black leggings, cozy leg warmers, and fitted Lululemon zip-ups. Our outfits were sporty but cute, and we were feeling confident as we laced up our skates.

Matt was already on the ice, passing a puck back and forth with one of his teammates. When he saw me, he skated over, smirking. “Not bad. You clean up alright for practice.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” I teased.

“Really? Cause I remember differently?” he said, offering me his hand to help me onto the ice. 

I scoffed and smacked his hand away from me, skating past him as he laughed.

Charlie wobbled a bit as Chris helped her onto the rink. “I’m going to die,” she whispered, clutching his arm.

Chris laughed, steadying her. “You’ll be fine. Just keep your knees bent a little.” 

“Alright, Matt,” I said, turning to him as we skated toward the middle of the rink. “You’ve seen me skate. You trust me, right?”

Matt scoffed, skating a slow circle around me. “Nationally ranked or not, you still scare me.”

I smirked. “You’ll survive, promise. Plus, I’ve been dying to teach you something cool instead of just watching you skate in circles.”

“Alright, fine,” he said, finally stopping in front of me. “What’s the plan, sweetheart?”

“A lift,” I said, my grin widening.

His brows shot up, and he gave me a skeptical once-over. “A lift? Like, one of those Dirty Dancing-style moves?”

“Sort of. But skating.”

“Are you trying to kill me?”

“No,” I said, shaking my head with mock seriousness. “Trust me, if anyone can do the lift, it’s gonna be you.”

He groaned but relented. “Alright, fine. But if I drop you, it’s on you for thinking this was a good idea.”

“I won’t let you drop me,” I promised. “Now, come here.”

I skated closer and showed him how to position his hands—firmly around my waist while keeping his elbows slightly bent for control.

“I’m getting dejavú,” he laughs, and I can hear the smirk on his voice as his hands tighten around me.

I roll my eyes. “The key is to keep your core steady and your legs moving. I’ll do most of the balancing; you just have to lift me up and keep skating forward.”

Matt sighed, adjusting his grip. “If we end up in the hospital, you’re explaining this to the doctor.”

“You’ll be fine,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Ready? On three. One… two… three!”

With surprising ease, Matt lifted me off the ice, his hands steady as he held me up.

“Holy shit,” he muttered, glancing up at me. “You’re light as fuck, that was easy.”

“See?” I said, laughing. “You’re a natural.”

He started skating forward, his strides cautious but controlled. I balanced effortlessly, throwing my arms out for effect.

“Alright, showoff,” he said, smirking as he glided across the ice. “Don’t get too cocky up there.”

“Cocky? Me?” I teased.

As he set me back down gently, Charlie stumbled over with Chris trailing cautiously behind her. “Seriously? You guys are doing figure skating routines now?”

“Jealous?” I shot back, adjusting my leggings.

“Please,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I can barely stay upright. I’ll stick with Chris.”

Chris smirked at me. “He didn’t drop you, huh? Impressive, Matt. You might have a future in this.”

Matt grinned. “Told you I’ve got skills.”

I laughed, nudging him playfully. “Alright, Matthew. Let’s see if you can do it again without turning us into a video on barstool.”

By the time practice ended, we were all laughing and out of breath, and Matt had officially mastered the lift.

tag-

( editor - @ch0llies ) @namelesssav @christmastreecake

@chrisstopherfilmed @mattsturnii @sturnrc @larnieboox88

@tbfaptbfae @2muchofaslvt @sturnioloshottiekay

@rockstarchr1s @simply-a-simper @realuvrrr @sophia-77n

[oimitocat]

IT’S YOU | HC/DB

myung jaehyun x m!reader

fluff + idol!au + established relationship + sfw (wow) + 7th!member reader

a/n; i saw him once and spiraled down the bnd hole. why is he just so shufjfdhshhd.

dating him means having no self restraint

he doesn’t make it easy either, he likes to mess with you

playfully makes you jealous

he doesn’t order you around because he’s the leader: he orders you around because you’re so wrapped around his finger you’ll do it with no hesitation

”i need you guys to copy my move today, no backing out,” jaehyun announces with a mischievous grin.

“oh what will you make us do now?” leehan groans.

you simply smile, because fulfilling whatever your dear leader wants is something you’re willing to fulfill every time. seeing his adorable smile is everything you need to survive. he’s just so-

“y/n you’re squeezing too hard!” he whines as you pinch his cheeks.

“mm well who’s fault is it for being so cute?”

“ew,” dongmin gags playfully.

“jealous prick,” you playfully hit taesan’s arm as he walks past.

having taken advantage of you letting you to hit taesan, jaehyun runs off complaining about how he’ll look puffier.

he’s not insecure but he does show signs of discomfort in his own skin sometimes but you always make him feel better without being told how he feels

he always seeks you out just how he is with woonhak

he LOVES physical touch, could you not tell?

always holding your hand or hooking his arm with yours when walking next to you

LOVES IT when you give him piggy back rides

sometimes while all of you are getting touch ups, he’d be sitting on your lap and both your stylist and his have to deal with it

he didn’t like to be all over you like that before

you make him NERVOUS most of the time despite how shameless he is

will STARE YOU DOWN for a kiss because he literally gets gushy to ask for it

the two of you would be laying down on his bed, him cuddled into you. your phone is somewhere in the bedsheets, your cheek is rested on his head and your eyes stare at his phone as he scrolls through social media apps. one of your arms is under him, wrapped around to where your hand is above his hip.

he seems like he’s scrolling mindlessly, but he’s hyper focused on the way your fingers mess with the hem of his hoodie, raising it a bit and your fingertips grazing his skin.

“you’re zoning out,” you accuse when the same video repeats a third time.

“i am not, i was just trying to understand the video.” he argues, moving his head to look up at you.

“what is there to understand?” you chuckle, tilting your head to look at his pout, “the guy gets hit with a water ballon.”

“shut up,” he huffs, glaring at you, but you know better.

“yah, just say you want something,” you tease, leaning in to touch the tip of his nose with yours.

jaehyun makes a face before looking down at your lips. the tips of his ears are reddened, you grin.

“want a kiss?”

he nods, still not looking at you. you bring your hand out from the back of your head, shifting to a different position to lean in well. your free hand grabs his chin and tilts it up. your lips capture his in a soft kiss, you smile when he relaxes.

“next time don’t even ask baby,” you tease as you peck his lips again.

jaehyun huffs, trying to scoot away but your hand grips his waist and keeps him in place.

constant sleepovers

the two of you have different dorms but he still comes into your room and stays the night

that’s IF he’s not in the studio

“i brought you food,” you announce as you go inside the room he’s been cooped up in for the past five hours.

“i already ate-“

“when?” you huff, setting the food on the table behind him, “in the morning? it’s five pm.”

he makes a face, “i was thinking of doing a diet-“

“for what?” you cross your arms.

he stares at you before looking at the food.”i can start tomorrow-“

“or never.” you take out the food and assort it over the table, “come on, let’s eat.”

jaehyun makes a small noise of complaint before getting out of his chair and coming over to you. he sits next to you and patiently waits as you take out the utensils from their packaging. there’s an innocent look on his face, one you recognize very well the second you look at him. he tilts his head and smiles.

“fine, i’ll feed you,” you sigh as you pick up meat from his bowl and guide it to his mouth.

you can’t help but attack him with kisses while he munches down his food. he gives you cuteness aggression so bad, especially when he does his little dance when taking the first bite of food.

both of you work out so good because both your love languages include kisses

when he gets really excited or happy around you he does the same thing he does to the group— pauses and admires you

you catch him looking at you a lot more often than him catching you

he loves it when you pull him by the waist

AND IF YOU KISS HIM ONCE HE’S AGAINST YOU? he’s get all gushy

super sassy with you

doesn’t really like it when you worry over him but he gives you REASONS

normally that’s a cause for arguments but you genuinely show him you just want to care for him the way he cares for everyone

your big baby, always getting all soft and mushy and ends up crying if you two randomly get into a deep talk

literally bby girl

your bby girl

[claireezz10]

BITCH I SAID YOU BAD

C.S.

when they lowk don’t like you…or do they..?

warnings: SMUT, piv, riding, sitting on his face, switch!chris x switch!reader, missionary, use of y/n, he calls you ‘ma’, enemies to lovers if you squint, confession I think that’s all enjoy!! 💋💋

you and nick were best friends. you and matt got along but you kinda ignored chris. you weren’t mean to him or anything just very nonchalant and dry towards him.

but chris…he was obsessed with you. constantly stalking your socials and staring at you.

nick and matt had gone to run some errands leaving you and chris alone.

“Yo y/n i’m getting food y’want anything?”

“mm sure.”

“what d’ya want?”

“I don’t really care get whatever”

the fact you didn’t even look up from your phone during the entire interaction should hurt chris’s ego, but it mostly just made him want you more.

“ok”

when the food arrived chris called you down. you were wearing pj shorts and..a fresh love hoodie

“woah fresh love. I like it”

you look down at your hoodie pretending not to realize you had picked that to wear.

“oh...yeah it is”

chris’s eyes trail down to your exposed thigh and how the pjs shorts were riding up. his blood rushed down as he exhaled deeply.

you noticed this because well…you were just as bad as him. you always looked when he wasn’t and you felt his stares.

“chris?”

“yeah?”

“my eyes are up here starebear.”

“what?- oh. sorry” his face flushes and he looks anywhere but your eyes.

you smirk and walk towards him.

“see something you like?”

“well- I-“

you push him back onto the couch. seeing as nick and matt weren’t home you decided to let chris know how you feel.

“I feel you looking chris. constantly.”

“m’sorry I-“

you place your finger on his lips and you climb onto his lap straddling him

“no need to explain chris…I understand”

you cup his flushed cheeks

“can I kiss you?”

“yes!- I meant yeah please”

you chuckle then slowly lean forward pressing your lips together.

your lips are moving at a steady pace as you swipe your tongue on his bottom lip. as soon as he opens his mouth you slide your tongue in hungrily moving it against his.

you grind your hips down onto his causing his to let out a moan into your lips.

“c’mon let’s go to your room”

“ok” he says breathlessly and flushed beyond belief.

he follows you to his room in a daze. when you lay him down and get on top of you his eyes couldn’t be peeled away from you.

“you look so pretty” he says before he can stop himself

now it was your turn to blush

“yeah? y’think I’m pretty? I think you’re pretty baby.”

“what d’ya want me to do chris? I’m all yours ‘kay?”

he nods. “wan’ you to..sit on my face”

“oh yeah? want me to ride that pretty face?

he nods eagerly

you begin removing your clothes. you start with your hoodie leaving you in a white tank top and pjs short. your hardened nipples we’re poking through the shirt. you removed your shorts and shirt leaving you in only your underwear.

“so pretty ma”

you let him take off your underwear and then you straddle his face. he was now staring eagerly at your dripping cunt.

“plea-“

you slam your pussy down on his face causing a loud moan from him. the vibrations send a shiver down your spine.

you gently begin rocking your hips back and forth against his face. he sucks on your clit and you moan loudly.

“chris!- fuck!”

he moans again sending you further toward the edge.

“so close chris fuck”

“m’gonna-“

your cum spilled onto his tongue and his face. and he moaned. you slowly remove your cunt from his face

“fuck you’re good at that.”

your attention moves to his body.

“too much clothes. take em off for me?”

chris begin to undress. he takes off everything until your staring at his aggravated tip that’s leaking precum.

“ride me ma. please”

you don’t answer you just grab a condom from his bedside drawer (you found them once when you were snooping) open it and roll it down his dick. he moans.

you straddle him and sink down on his dick. you both eat out loud moans.

you start bouncing fast up and down chasing your climax.

after a while you get tired. “ch-chris”

“need help ma?” he says as he pounds into from below.

suddenly he pulls out and slams you on your back. “fuckkkkk ma” he says as he starts pounding into you. “chris! ohhh”

“yeah? am I makin’ ya feel good? this is what you needed huh? needed me to finish you off.”

“fuck! m’gonna cum”

“yeah? come all over my cock yeah?”

you scream his name as he somehow speeds up pushing you over the edge.

“fuck fuck fuck..” chris moans as he finishes in the condom and collapses on top of you

after a while he takes of the condom and goes to the bathroom to clean himself up. you comes back with a warm wet towel and cleans you.

you jerk a bit due to still being sensitive and he chuckles.

he lays next to you pulling you into his arms

“chris?”

“yeah?”

“I really do like you a lot.”

“me too y/n”

not proofread.

a/n: first chris fic! I’m ok with it I’ll try and post more!

🧸

taglist: @cayleeuhithinknott @mattsfavseason

all credits to @bernardsbendystraws for my dividers! ily bb

[sweetflanfiction]

Assymetrical Symphony - Part 11

Universe: Arcane (LOL)

Pairing: Viktor x reader

Summary: You had been on the rooftop with Jayce and the Herald and somehow you were sent to a place where things can be different with your help

Disclaimers and Warnings: If you want me to tag you on the chapters let me know! Also leave a comment with your thoughts :D Not finished, not proofread. English isn't my 1st language. All I know about LOL is from google and all I know about Arcane is taken from the show, so inacuracies will be plenty. I have a sort of idea on how to I'm gonna go with magic and runes, so bear with me. The reader will be written as GN (going by they/them) to get everyone involved, but if you see any discrepancies let me know.

A.N: I am going on a little vacay and I'll probably won't be able to update it as regurlarly, but I'm going to try and schedule this chapter and another one. Good news is more time to write :D

A.N. 2: Apparently the tags have not been wroking. If you asked to be tagged and haven't been, let me know!

Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3 • Part 4 • Part 5 • Part 6 • Part 7 • Part 8 • Part 9 • Part 10

• ··········· • ············ •

It was the morning of the day after Viktor had come to the penthouse and taken a twelve-hour power nap. 

You walked into the kitchen with a yawn that stopped abruptly when you saw the three people in the room. Two of its usual occupants: your mother, Wyllah, but also a very tired Jayce. Your eyes shifted between your mother and the tanned man on the table, hunching sheepishly as he sipped from a mug filled with coffee to the brim.

“Jayce?” Your tone is a mix between a welcome and a question, not even bothering to call him by his title.

He mumbled his reply, and you looked back at your mother and Wyllah. They both gave a sad smile and a shrug.

“You left the lab.” You began, trying to get him to talk, and he nodded. 

His hair was unkempt, and his beard was starting to emerge, meaning he probably had not even been home yet.

“I needed to find Viktor.” He said, not looking up from the mug. “Your mother found me halfway out of the Academy.”

“I left one of my security guards at the lab door,” Wyllah explained proudly. “No one is getting in unless we say so.”

“Thank you.” Jayce said, still looking at his reflection.

“Did you two argue?” You asked, knowing the answer.

Viktor would have never just walked out of the lab, leaving his best friend behind, and Jayce wouldn’t look half as dejected if they had parted ways amicably. Although Viktor had probably already gotten over the argument, Jayce liked to mull over it. 

“How…?” he asked. “Wild guess…” you answered.

He sighed, putting his head on his head, finger digging into his unkempt hair.

“What was it about?” You inquired, pouring yourself a cup of coffee, even though you could also guess the subject.

“What do you think?” He snapped, and you sat down in front of him at the booth, grabbing a cookie from the plate one of the older women had placed on the table.

“The great mystery of Runeterra.” You grinned, and he just stared at you, eyes narrowed. “I know it was about the council shenanigans, but what was it specifically about? Gods know you two can fight about a fleck of dust in the window.”

Jayce looked at you and was about to retort but closed his mouth and looked at his coffee before sighing and reopening his mouth.

“I told him I want to give the Hextech freely to the council in exchange for keeping us there as engineers for it, no matter what. I would rather be there to stop them from screwing up than have it destroyed or sold to someone else.” He sighed. “Viktor would rather grab everything and run as far as he can to keep it safe.”

You smiled softly at him gently and touched his white-knuckled hand on the mug. He relaxed his grip and looked at you.

“You can both be right, you know.” “I know, but it’s not that I want to be right… It’s just…” he scoffed, frustrated, looking at the window. “He has stood up for so long, taken so many beatings from topside, kept a straight face throughout everything we’ve ever been through; he has made his mark in this world whether he signs on it or not… And now he wants to run? It feels like a step backward.”

“You both know what hunger feels like, what a wind so cold that seeps through your clothes feels like in your bones. You both know how it is to have nothing and then have everything.” Jayce looked at you both confused and interested. “The difference is Tallis; he knows what happens when you just wait and watch. You get eaten by the big fish eventually. He stood up so many other times because he knew you’d have his back. But right now both your backs are against the wall, and there will be no sorcerer to help you escape the storm.”

There was silence in the kitchen as Jayce searched your eyes for answers all the while trying to assimilate what you said about Viktor.

“How…?” He asked again. “Your past and my present aren’t that different.” 

His eyes widened for a second, and he was about to start talking again when you shook your head.

“Discussion for another time and place.” 

He nodded, still reeling but quieted down when the telltale sounds of a cane making its way to the kitchen were heard.

“What do I say?” “Nothing…” you whispered back. “He is your friend Jay. He understands the same way you do…deep down…”

Viktor was also stifling a yawn as he made his way to the kitchen, stopping mid-stride just as you did when he saw the other man in the kitchen. 

“Jayce?” He puzzled, eyes still blinking the sleep away. “Hey, buddy! You got me worried there for a second.” Jayce got up from the table and walked towards him, scratching the back of his neck. “Listen…I’m sorry if I said something I shouldn’t.”

Viktor blinked a couple of times and gave him a nod and a smile.

“Do not worry, Jayce. I understand.” He patted the bigger man’s arm and limped to the small breakfast nook, where you sat.

“Thank you, Madame Rainemour, for the hospitality.” He smiled at your mother, and she smiled back. “I don’t think I had any say in it this time, but you're welcome, my dear.”

He shifted his eyes to you, and you shrugged.

“You looked like exhaustion and tiredness had a child and left it out in the rain.” You paused and raised an eyebrow, conveying you were joking. “No offense…”

“None taken.” He smirked and grabbed a cookie from the plate.

“Well,” your mother clapped, and everyone’s eyes turned to her, you noticing a small grin on Wyllah’s face. “Since everyone is now sort of awake and looking less dejected…I have a plan…” “A plan?” Jayce asked, leaning against the door frame. “A plan.” Wyllah repeated. “Should I be scared?” Viktor asked, and both older women shook their heads in sync. “That makes me scared.” “Alright, you two... out with it...” You motioned with your head for the ladies to sit and talk.

Your mother started to explain what she had been doing yesterday after she left you and Viktor. Esther had put on her detective’s hat and gone to investigate the ins and outs of whatever was happening with the Hextech vs. Council situation.

She found that the council was going to make the decision to take control of Talis Lab and Hextech in a week or so, with Councilor Salo spearheading the efforts, being the one that seemingly had lost more in the rocket attack.

He had announced to all of those who wanted to hear him about the dangers of the usage of hextech by those who wanted the worst for Piltover. The topsiders had clutched their pearls and agreed he was right and that the council, the voice of all citizens of Piltover, needed to seize control of the tech.

Jayce bonked his forehead on the door frame where he was leaning, and Viktor rolled his eyes.

“I’m starting to see the beauty of him as a stain on the hex gate’s floor…” you mumbled, munching on a cookie. Viktor looked at you questioningly, and you shrugged him off. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Do not despair, my dears; as I’ve noted, I have a plan.”

Between her and Wyllah, the plan was laid out in front of the three of you. Your mother would rally up all of the investors and get them to stop the tech from falling into the council’s hands. It seemed simple and very straightforward, but knowing the Topsiders, there will be money exchange and drama and fights. Something your mother seemed very willing to do.

Both of the scientists had nodded in agreement to whatever your mother had put on the table, and you realized how much trust they all had in each other. The universe had to find a way to make up for you not being here. It had put your mother in their path so they could have her instead of you. It hurt as much as it elated you. 

“And what do we do in the meantime?” Viktor asked, breaking a cookie in half. “Well, we will need Jayce’s assistance.” Esther pointed at the broader man. “His place as a councillor and one part of the Hextech team will help us get to certain people. But I don’t think that would be your cup of tea, so you can keep securing the lab and the projects, making sure nothing ends up being shown to prying eyes.” “Are they allowing us to work?” Viktor asked Jayce. “No. No hextech projects are allowed to go forth.” Both men sighed. “I’ll stay in the lab with Viktor. I don’t want to get mixed up in that crowd again…” “Again?” Jayce raised his eyebrows, and you matched the expression.

After a while of discussing and more planning, between calculation and scheduling, your head was about to burst, so you excused yourself for a bathroom break and walked to the living room. You sat on the chair that wasn’t Viktor’s favorite place on earth and, drowning out the noise from the kitchen, felt the sunshine on your face.

You jumped at Jayce’s voice calling your name right next to you.

“Holy blue balls of Hextech.” You mumbled, putting your hands on your heart and leaning back on the chair. “Oh, so that’s where it comes from…” Jayce joked. “Sorry…” “Don’t worry about it.” You looked up at him, leaning your elbows into your knees.

“About that thing you said before.” Jayce took a deep breath. “I never told that to anyone but Viktor, and I know he would never tell anyone…” “Like I said, your past is my present. I was snapped here the same way you were.” “Yeah, I got it the first time. I’m as smart as the other co-creator of Hextech, believe it or not.” He grinned. “How? I have searched and researched high and low to figure out why it happened to me, and I never found the answers. Did he appear to you too? The mage? Did some runes in the sky and…new place, new you?”

You shook your head and looked at your hands. He was taking this considerably well, which made sense since he had also lived through something similar.

“I don’t know how it happened; I was there one second and here the next.” “That’s why you ran to the council room; you did know what was gonna happen.” He frowned, his eyes searching the air for connections. “Were you in the council room? Or in the Undercity?”

“I was in the lab when it happened. All was quiet, and then…boom…”  “What changed?” Jayce asked, and you shook your head. “I’m not going to tell you. Not all of the details. You…from there…lived it…you felt it…If I tell you, it might make you do something that would lead to the same path, and…I can’t go through that again.”

He nodded, understanding that the addition of knowledge to a situation can drastically change the outcome. You looked at his wrist, the leather band secured tightly around it and the teardrop-shaped gem encased in it. Stretching your arm, you grabbed his hand, turning it palm up. The rune was different. 

Jayce also grabbed your hand and turned it palm up. A different rune was carved there, not glowing since you had spent most of the night remaking the star rune in case Viktor woke up. You looked up at him and sighed, his eyes searching for answers.

“I think the technical term is Rune Speaker…” You smiled at him, finding amazement in his eyes.

• ············ •

It didn’t take the group long to have a sort of guarding schedule around keeping the stuff in the lab from prying eyes. Because it was involved in council business, the boys couldn’t work there, but they refused to leave anything unsupervised. And that’s why they had looked like exhaustion itself.

Between the two of them, yourself and some of Wyllah's personal security, it was manageable, although Salo had shaken his fist at having the unknown guards at the door. To which your mother promptly told him she had more money invested in that lab than he could count; she was merely securing her investment.

Your endeavor to enter the orchestra was still in full swing, so you took the time at the lab to write out some of the music you were composing. You had an outline of the piece, but it needed tweaking and cleaning up.

You were not a composer. You hated writing your music. It felt strained. You’d rather just sit at the piano and play something from the top of your head. You were good at that. This was hell for you.

Groaning, you laid your forehead on the cold lab table and groaned. A hand patted your arm, and instinctively you jumped back as far as you could.

“Eh. It���s just me, good old Viktor.” the scientist announced, limping around you and placing a cup of tea and something wrapped in a cloth on the table. “One of those days, huh?”

He sat down next to you and peered at what you were doing. 

“Looks complicated.” He said, taking a book out of his shoulder bag, and you look at him sideways, glaring at the man. You pointed to the chalkboard that now has a sheet covering it and raised an eyebrow.

“I’ve seen what you do…” you mumbled. “Numbers. I crunch numbers. Calculation and variants. It’s easy. I see them in my mind. Some are more complicated than others, but… It’s easy. This…?” He touched the clean sheet of music and made a negative sound with his throat. “Cannot comprehend.”

“Remind me to teach you the scale at some point. My mother is catching on pretty quickly. I fear she might get the position faster than me.” “Position?”  “I’m trying for the orchestra. I’ve learned that being a stay-at-home Piltie is not for me.” “Piltie?” He frowned at the nickname the Zaunites gave the topsiders. “How very uncivilized of you.” 

You both chuckled at his joke, and he nudged your shoulder in a friendly manner. He mentioned the wrapped thing with his chin, and you grabbed it. A small little cake was inside. A round little creamy thing with a slice of strawberry on top.

“Don’t expect much.” He said, opening his book. “It’s from the Academy’s cafe.”

You took a bite out of it. It was a little dry, but it was sugar, and you welcomed the feeling of something sweet in these desperate times.

“Where's Jayce?” You asked after you finished with the pastry. “I thought he was supposed to come with you.”

Viktor took a sip of his cup of tea and shook his head, rolling his eyes in the process.

“Councilor Medarda asked to see him.” He scoffed. “Confraternizing with the enemy, more like it.” “Spending time with his significant other.” you corrected, smiling when he made a ‘yeah yeah’ face.

Silent took over the lab while the two of you both got entranced by your tasks; only the scratching of pens on paper was heard. It was a friendly silence, with both of you sitting close enough that your knees would bump occasionally. Sometimes you would hum the melody you were writing, and he would stop writing to listen to it.

After a while Viktor stretched, moving his arms up to the ceiling. You looked at him and mimicked the movement but stretched your arms in front of you. The two loud ‘aahs’ of pleasure came from both of you in sync, making you both snort.

“I have been thinking…” Viktor began relaxing on the table, his shoulder hunching over. “The other day, you kept having to remake the rune.”

“You noticed?” You looked away from him, slightly embarrassed. “I thought you were sleeping.” “I caught you once or twice. It was a nice gesture, so I kept quiet. In any case, you had to keep redoing it. And well, we have had the same problem with the cores.”

“Vik…” you warned, but he raised his hand, stopping you.

“I know, but technically I am not using your magic for Hextech; I’m using Hextech for your magic. We solved that problem by introducing an artificial rune to the process.” He drew two squares touching on one corner, a crude infinity symbol. “That sustains the power of the core indefinitely. If we work at this the same way we work with Hexcore, your rune ‘push’ simply means you have no other inputs to add to it, and that means that inputs can be added.”

You remembered the rune circle in the council chambers. Going by what Viktor was saying, it made sense; the magic didn’t happen until you had pushed it forward, waiting until you finished the whole rune circle to work and slamming your hand on it to work.

“Could work, but if you tell it to keep going indefinitely, how do we stop it?“ You looked back at him and saw him scratch his neck.

“Usually we have buttons and dials…sometimes an emergency lever.”He placed his head on his hands and looked around for inspiration to strike.

You looked down at your music sheet and rolled your eyes. The answer was right in front of you. You slid the music sheet towards him.

“When you want to bring your composition to an end, you add this…” You pointed to a circle enclosing a crosshair.

“The runes are a language, and languages are fluid. New words are being introduced every day. We can keep adding to it until it works…” Viktor continued excitedly. “We have to test this theory.”

“I’m not going to test something that has a possibility of permanently staying in your lab. I don’t think a never-ending whirlwind is very discreet.” 

His shoulders slumped for a second, and then he pointed to a small door next to the front door. That was a cleaning supply room spacious enough for the janitor to keep his cart there, but it was closed off so that if something were to happen in there, it would be contained.

“Alright…Let’s test this out.” You rolled the stool away from the table and slapped your hands on your thighs, watching Viktor move with efficiency.

• ············ • ············ •

@marshy-moo @victormydarling @blueesmiski @th3stup1dcat @22carolina08 @httpstes @that-one-shitty-blog @disa-pointment @sseleniaa @moons-lighttrail @aysluxe @fae-doodle @kitewa @local-mr-frog @bakusquadobsessed @cherry-cola-100 @optimistic-but-very-realistic @seeksrsnn @thecordelialetters @notsaelty @lansy-4 @ayupfrogg @sammypotato @wnbrw @lucycarlisleswife @noxturnalmoth @ren-ren23 @furblrwurblr

[pomogando]

hiii hehehe :3!! may i resquetttt maybe a medkit and child reader ehe write whatever ya likeee just idk i just want parental love for onc- that isnt important but i would be very happy if you do it!!have a nice day or night.

Medkit and a child Reader

Word count 800+, short and sweet, one-shot, platonic !!!!!!

Medkit is trying his best.

Medkit never considered himself the type to ever have a family in his lifetime. He never considered himself good with kids. Hell, he struggled to be the right person a kid could look up to. That's what Medkit thought, at least. He was pathetic in many people's eyes, a fall from grace from the scientist he could be. He felt aimless.

Hurrying back home to his apartment, he picked up cheap fast food. It was definitely not his favorite, but to survive till the next day, it was good enough. It was too late to plan a meal and he couldn't exactly cook in the first place, but he hoped one day he could make you something at home you'd actually like to eat.

The bus stop was far from the church, so he had to cover the food bag as he ran from the ever increasing intensity of the rain. The umbrella in his free hand wouldn't open. He grumbled as the rain wet his uniform.

He had meant to get a new one, but on the days he remembered, it was always too sunny for an umbrella to be needed.

Still, despite his impatience at the bus stop to get home, ignoring the odd looks from civilians, his thoughts drifted to you as they always did. His new responsibility on top of an already large enough list.

Sometimes, he wondered if he was doing the right thing for you by taking you in. It's not like the place was exactly grand, and you were a bit of a money drain through no fault of your own. It was his, actually, he found he liked spoiling you the little he could.

He got home late, the damned bus had taken forever, and then the bus driver drove everywhere but to you. He watched others leave to their homes with an annoyed look. He's pretty sure someone looked back, but he was more focused on the food that was definitely getting cold. He wrapped it in his jacket, putting the bag close to his chest.

The bus came to a rough stop as the driver told him to get off. He nearly dropped the bag.

He hurried upstairs, struggling to put his keys in the keyhole due to his own eagerness to get home.

He opened the door with a click, closing behind him and locking it. "I hope you don't mind, it's the same as last time." He announced, hearing your footsteps as you ran down the hall to see him. He dropped the food on the counter, watching as you ran to his side with bright eyes. It was your favorite for whatever reason. Despite his own disinterest in the food, he felt like he owed you. For everything, he didn't have a specific thing in particular, maybe for not being able to do enough.

Medkit couldn't help but look at your bandages on your thin arms as you dug through the bag for your usual. When he found you, you were covered in bruises and scratches. Your horns chipped with one almost in half. It'll thankfully heal with your young age, but he wondered how that could've happened, not that he would ask. You never mentioned it, so he wouldn't.

It was something he could piece together anyways, Playground was dangerous. How you got here, though, was something he couldn't figure out.

"Did you get me a milkshake?" You asked. He paused to think. "I left it on the bus.." His eyes widened, quickly running to grab it. He heard you giggle as he ran out the door. Thankfully, the bus hadn't pulled away yet, but the driver still wasn't very happy to be flagged down for a single milkshake.

Medkit came back to you eating your fries. He had told you before to slow down, which you obviously didn't listen to. "Come sit!" Your food was spread out on the table and his neatly placed nearby. He was intending on eating in his own room, but he couldn't exactly refuse you.

"Here." He put the shake down near you, watching you perk up. "I didn't forget, like I said I would." You smiled, taking it eagerly. He sat next to you. You've had this meal day after day, yet you still ate it. He wasn't even sure if it was actually your favorite. You didn't seem very picky.

"Slow down, you'll get a brain freeze." He stole one of your fries, making you huff.

You finished it all way too quickly for his liking. He hadn't even unwrapped his burger, but he couldn't even scold you before you got up. Already running back to your room to create a mess.

"Thanks, dad!" You called out as you were already closing your door. Medkits eyes widened. He wasn't sure how to feel. Him? You considered him your dad? He always felt as if he didn't do enough, or maybe he was too strict. Maybe he was too lax.

.

.

.

He scoffed at the wrappers on the table. You always 'forgot' to clean up after yourself, leaving him to do it instead.

But, he'd let it slide, just this once.

[mountsmase]

Just sent this privately to loz

So sharing it with the class

imagine not living with him

You stayed at his every night since Sunday but today you finish work late and since his family was over you decide to go back at yours for the night

You see the post and call him

But Lewis or his mother answer and they tell you he’s closed himse in his room and is not talki to them at all

So his mum begs you to come over and you obviously run there

You knock his room door convinced that he won’t let you in but as soon as he hears your voice he runs to the door to open it and hugs you🥺

Thank you for sharing, the class really appreciate it 😌

I love this so so much 🥺

Maybe you’re still in a fairly new relationship with him, you’ve been together long enough that you’ve met his family loads and get along with them all really well but you don’t want to interrupt their time together too much so you decide to go home after work, also needing to get a few extra bits and pieces and do some washing before going back to his in a few days time

But then he makes the Instagram post and it catches you a little off guard because you weren’t expecting him to post it, so you call him just to see how he’s feeling and make sure he’s okay but Lewis picks up the phone instead.

Lewis explains that he made the post and then got a bit overwhelmed and disappeared upstairs, leaving his phone down stairs so he’s not tempted to look at any comments or anything, not knowing that Lewis had turned them off completely anyway

Maybe they tell you that his mum had tried to go and speak to him but he wasn’t letting anyone in his room and the door was locked (i imagine him doing that so that his nieces don’t just run in - he’d hate for them to see him upset) and you knew straight away that you needed to go and see him anyway but then his mum asks you to come over and you’re walking out the door straight away

You quite literally just put some shoes and a jacket on, grab your car keys, and go.

When you get there you quickly say hi to all of them and then grab a few bottles of water out of the fridge before going to find him upstairs.

You lightly knock on his door and try to open it but it’s locked and you don’t hear anything from inside so you try again, speaking just loud enough for him to hear you through the door saying ‘Mase, bubba it’s me. Can you let me in?’ and the door is open almost instantly

you just about catch a glimpse at his teary eyes before he’s pulling you in and straight into his arms

You guide him over to the bed and hold your arms out for him to fall into and you hold him close whilst he lets it all out, scratching over his scalp because you know he loves when you do that and letting him know that you’re there and you’ve got him 🥺 It takes him a while to calm down but you know he needs it, encouraging him to cry it all out and you don’t loosen your grip on him until he moves slightly to move his head out of your neck

you’ve spoken enough during the week and you know him well enough to know what’s bothering him, so you don’t make him talk about it, but he knows you’re there if he needs to

so no words are exchanged between the two of you as he leans forward and kisses you gently, a silent thank you for being there for him

and then maybe you decide to stay in his room for the rest of the evening, leaving him to watch a film whilst you pop down stairs to help his mum with dinner (you asked him loads if he was okay with you leaving him on his own but he encouraged you to go) and then you take your portions up to him and you eat it in bed before having a bath together and doing some skincare

You do a face mask with him which he complains about at first but it’s such a good distraction and takes his mind off of everything for a while because your laughing too much at how silly you both look

And then you get into bed for an early night, putting on an episode of the series you’re currently binging and he settles back into your arms, head buried into your neck as he drifts off to sleep, still feeling deflated about everything that’s happening, but feeling alot better after let it all out and having you in his arms

[lemonlyman-dotcom]

Hello! Sharing a longer bit from my fic This Infinite Love which is now fully posted on ao3 ❤️💚 I had so much fun writing this one and it was so amazing reading along with everyone’s comments all week 💕

After a year and a half of pursuing the why of Gabriel’s murder, he was finally ready to face the why of the pain. Gabriel was his dad. And Carlos realised that it wasn’t through solving his murder, or becoming an exemplary Ranger that he would continue his father’s legacy or make him proud. It was by being a good man, a generous and gracious husband, by prioritizing his family and building a good life. And, he told TK with a hopeful spark in his eye, by being brave. By being a good father to a little boy who desperately needed one.

TK knows that Carlos was scared, that despite coming to terms with everything his father was, he was still terrified of making the same mistakes and possibly causing more harm to a vulnerable little boy. But Carlos took to fatherhood naturally. His fear only made him more mindful, more sweet with both of them, more purposeful of prioritizing his family and holding up his promises.

He knows he would have taken Jonah in on his own if he had to, but this family wouldn’t be the same without Carlos.

Carlos, who is always coaxed into reading at least two extra stories when he tucks Jonah in at night, because he always reads them in the silly voices that Jonah adores.

Carlos, who lets Jonah ride around on his shoulders through the farmers market, the same one they’ve been going to almost every weekend since he and TK first started dating. The vendors they know by name, June, who provided the flower arrangements for their wedding, Marisol, who always gives Carlos an extra sample of her raspberry honey, and Maurice, who’s lamb rounds are the only cut of lamb Carlos will use for his carnitas, all love Jonah and have stickers and sweets for him when they stop by their booths.

Carlos, who spent an hour digging through boxes in his parents’ garage one afternoon after TK called him at work to tell him Jonah had the flu and that he’d been feeling so rotten he was practically inconsolable. He came home with Kique, his old stuffed koala, and put on a little puppet show in Jonah’s room until he fell asleep.

TK Strand is living a full, beautiful life. And it’s due in no small part to the man that’s walking through it by his side.

Later, when Jonah has gone up to brush his teeth before he and Carlos head out, TK corrals Carlos in the foyer where he’s just finished packing up his work satchel and pulling his boots on. He hands Carlos Jonah’s lunchbox and leans in for a kiss.

“You remind me of him, you know,” he says softly when he pulls back from their kiss, running a hand lightly over Carlos’s hair. He still gels his curls back for work, but since he wears the cowboy hat with his Rangers uniform, TK doesn’t have to be quite so careful not to mess it up as he did back when he was working as a patrol officer.

“Babe,” Carlos says, eyes going dark and shiny.

“It’s true,” TK says, cupping Carlos’s cheek with a soft hand. “It’s in the way you love us, the little ways you take care of us.” He moves his hand down to Carlos’s chest and rubs over his heart. “You’re an amazing man, an incredible father. He’s proud of you, I know it.”

“Thank you, baby,” Carlos replies, voice rough and eyes soft with fondness.

“You don’t have to thank me,” TK says, leaning up for another kiss, quicker this time. He knows they’ve got seconds before Jonah comes flying back into the room. “I always wanna make sure you know. You’re everything to me, to us. And we love you very much. I don’t know what we would do without you.”

“I love you too. You are both so precious to me.” Carlos smiles, grabbing TK’s hand and cradling it between their chests. “And you’ll never have to find out. I’m not going anywhere.”

The sound of little feet pattering across the hardwood floor is all the warning they get before Jonah is upon them.

“Are you KISSING?” he shouts.

“Not anymore,” TK mutters under his breath, causing Carlos to laugh and playfully flick the side of his head before he turns his attention to Jonah.

Read on ao3

Thank you for the tags @heartstringsduet @carlos-in-glasses @nisbanisba @carlossreaders @everlastingday 💕

Tagging: @annoyingcloudearthquake @henrygrass @paperstorm @thisbuildinghasfeelings @ironheartwriter @whatsintheboxmh @orchidscript @the-126-family @bonheur-cafe @firstprince-history-huh @hereghostslive @eclectic-sassycoweyes @emsprovisions @iboatedhere @alrightbuckaroo @captain-gillian @tellmegoodbye @ladytessa74 @chicgeekgirl89 @literateowl @laelipoo @welcometololaland @basilsunrise @lightningboltreader @liminalmemories21 @freneticfloetry @sapphic--kiwi @herefortarlos @filet-o-feelings @tinyluminaryzombie @kiwichaeng @guardian-angle22 @rmd-writes @reyesstrand @never-blooms @decafdino @certifiedflower @irispurpurea and OPEN TAG 🏷️

[the-morningstar-family]

How does Al feel about having triplets? 😆

The radio demon grips the side the table tight.

Alastor: "A-are you sure? You must be mistaken..."

Dr. Chaim: "No, I am very sure, sir. I know that this is probably over whelming. Take your time"

The deer runs a hand over his fac, collecting himself for exactly as long as this screening is going to last. But oh, he'll absolutely freak out later.

Alastor: "... Continue"

Dr.Chaim: “So, this means you are having a high risk pregnancy -”

Alastor, sitting up anxiously: “High risk?!”

And there the composure goes. Right out of the window. Lucifer hands his shirt back, which is anxious partner busied himself with.

Dr.Chaim: “Yes, but all triplet pregnancies are automatically, because the body's strain is much higher. But everything we checked looked really well, so don't panic just yet. If you decide to go through with this, we’ll monitor you and the babies closely to ensure everything goes as smoothly as possible. We’ll discuss what to expect, including more frequent appointments, dietary and lifestyle considerations, and any potential challenges.”

Alastor: “What would I need to watch out for?”

He subconsciously grabs Lucifer's hand, and the king squeezes back. A little reassurance.

Dr.Chaim: “Well, the obvious things, Avoid alcohol, drugs, and stress. You should sleep well, too. You might already notice being more tired than usual, there's no shame in an occasional nap. With triplets the hormonal fluctuations are stronger, thus, often stronger symptoms.”

Alastor nods, fairly simple, something one could deduce on their own.

DrChaim: “Do you have a cat?”

Alastor: “Yes”

DrChaim: “Avoid the litter box, it could contain Toxoplasma gondii, it could harm the fetuses”

Ah, that's the kind he was looking for, something he'd never know 

DrChaim: “Also some artificial sweeteners”

Alastor, to Lucifer: “I told you that junk could never be healthy”

Lucifer: “So I like sweets! Sue me!”

The doctor smirks at their playful banter, and resumes talking.

Dr.Chaim: “Limited caffeine use, two cups maximum. You should avoid high mercury fish or if it's raw… anything raw really, fish, seafood, meats, eggs-”

Alastor: “Raw eggs? Who eats that?”

Lucifer: “Oh but the raw meat is fine -”

The king realises who he's talking to, and snaps his mouth shut. He is rewarded by a raised eyebrow of scrutiny by the radio demon.

Lucifer: “Nevermind” 

Dr.Chaim: “And then there's unpasteurised juice or milk. And finally, some herbal teas and subments”

Alastor: “...That's quite a bit to keep track of”

Dr.Chaim: “We have Porscheurs if you like.”

Alastor, with a sigh: “Well I guess I'll be taking that.”

DrChaim: “No problem at all. I'd like to see you in two weeks. If there are any questions, do call.”

Alastor: “I will, thank you”

They leave the room, and Lucifer thinks that, if he were not as powerful as he his, the demon might've just accidentally broken his hand by how hard he's squeezing it. The smile is sharp, not comfortable. And his shoulders drawn up. Oh boy....

[magnagaruzenmon]

Heat Miser

This is a bit of a double gift one for @fanfiction4sooya and one for the lady who runs this page specifically

To Lua when I started writing again I wanted to follow more female writers and by far you have been the kinder and most helpful in terms of having me feel less loss in different exploration of ideas and understanding. So from the bottom of my heart I give you the biggest obrigado

To Maggy you despite your crippling anxiety about being tracked you found me and pushed me to start writing again. So thank you for getting me back into shape.

The living room is alive with the warm hum of laughter, clinking glasses, and the soft crackle of the fireplace. Strings of twinkling lights cast a cozy glow over the room, their reflection dancing in ornaments hanging from the Christmas tree. You’re nestled into the corner of the couch, the comfortable cushions cradling your tired body after hours of playing host. Around you, your friends are engaged in animated conversations, exchanging gifts, and snapping pictures under the mistletoe.

Jihyo is in the center of it all, radiant and magnetic, holding court as she always does. Her laughter rings out like a bell, drawing everyone in. You can’t help but admire her from afar, but tonight, a small pang of selfishness tugs at your chest. You just want a quiet moment alone with your girl.

Without drawing attention, you slip your phone out of your pocket and type a quick message: "hey babe I need some attention."

The second you hit send, you tuck your phone away and push yourself off the couch, blending into the social swirl. If you’re going to sneak a moment with Jihyo later, you might as well make a good impression as a host now. You grab a refill for someone’s drink, laugh at a joke you only half-heard, and dodge a particularly heated debate about holiday movie rankings.

That’s when you notice me—standing awkwardly in the hallway near the stairs, looking like I’m trying to disappear into the wallpaper. I’m shifting uncomfortably, tugging at the collar of my sweater, clearly out of my element. Something about the way I linger at the edge of the crowd tugs at your latent maternal instinct.

You weave through the throng of people and approach me, your voice soft but audible over the festive noise. "Hey, is everything alright?"

I nod quickly, offering a polite but strained smile. "Yeah, just…a little overwhelmed. It’s really warm in here."

You nod in understanding and glance toward the fireplace and the tightly packed crowd. "Yeah, sorry about that. My baby girl loves to keep things hot," you say, smiling apologetically.

I chuckle weakly at your joke but shake my head. "No worries. Do you know somewhere cooler?"

You hesitate, your mind flipping through options. You could send me to one of the upstairs rooms, but the thought makes you pause. Jihyo might finally peel herself away from the party to answer your text, and you want the space to yourselves when she does. After a brief moment of consideration, you gesture toward the sliding glass doors at the back of the house.

"Why don’t you head to the guest house by the pool? It’s quiet out there, and you can cool off for a bit."

Relief washes over my face as I nod. "Thanks. I appreciate it."

You watch as I slip through the sliding doors and out into the crisp night air, disappearing toward the softly lit guest house. Satisfied that I’ll find some peace, you turn back to the party, scanning the room for Jihyo. You're not waiting for long as two hands cover your eyes.

"I hear you're looking for me," Jihyo says in her low sultry voice. You rub your thighs together as her voice always manages to heat things up between the two of you.

"That depends are you gonna be a good girl for mommy," you hear Jihyo stifle a moan as you use the tone that sends a jolt right to her core.

"Yes. I love being a good girl for mommy," Jihyo says submissive and pliant. You smirk and tell her to meet you in your bedroom in 15 minutes.

"But mommy?" Jihyo begs

"Is that back talk?" you question quickly silencing the smaller woman.

"No I just need you," she says as she rubs her thighs together the wetness between them drives her crazy.

You nod then reply, "I know but I need you a little bit more hot and bothered." Jihyo's eyes widen as you walk to your room. While waiting for your lovely girlfriend you turn on the heater in your room and slowly strip. By the time Jihyo is supposed to come in you already have a nice layer of sweat building around your skin.

When she enters she sees your bare body waiting for her. She whimpers and says, "Momo I'm so hot." you smile and respond.

"I know darling, Now eat Mommy then we'll see what we can do for you." Jihyo happily approaches as she wedges herself between your legs. She first starts by doing small semi-circles around your clit causing you to moan as her hot tongue sets your nerves alight.

"That's it, baby girl, keep licking Mommy," you say encouraging Jihyo to continue. Jihyo moans as she slowly inches into your pussy. You smile and yelp as her tongue dips into your walls.

"fuck you moan," as Jihyo continues to tongue fuck you. You groan as your eyes roll into the back of your head before you reach your limit. You cum all over your baby girl's face and the heat between you two only intensifies as you bring Jihyo up to your face your taste still lingering on her face as the two of you make out.

You playfully paw at her breasts causing Jihyo to moan into your kiss,

"Oh mommy," Jihyo says before aligning yourselves together. You smile as you bite her bottom lip causing Jihyo even more pleasure as the two of you get closer. You push Jihyo down as you rut on top of her. Jihyo moans as she feels the heat inside her rage into a fiery tempest. Her moans melodically fill the room as you dominate her further.

"Yes, Mommy" Jihyo repeats like a mantra as she reaches Nirvana. You smile watching your baby girl reach her climax. After she does you get up and begin dressing yourself while Jihyo cools down from your little session.

"Please do hydrate baby girl Mommy doesn't want you becoming mush now," You say coyly as you region the party.

[bellybuttonbooks]

THE SIXTH | Ekko x Fem!OC

CHAPTER TWO

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Link to Chapter One can be found here.

Full fanfiction currently has 22 chapters and counting. Link to full fanfiction can be found here.

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Ekko was not okay when he made it back to the Firelight hideout. Though he had no physical injuries (which was surprising since she'd jabbed him in the back of his neck and sent him crumbling to the ground), he was royally pissed off.

His feet clunked against the floor as he stormed to his bedroom with an angry frown on his face. It was late now, and very few Firelights were awake to witness his sour mood.

As soon as he entered his room, he cleared everything off his desk. He grabbed a pencil and began making a sloppy sketch of the woman he had the unfortune of meeting tonight. He drew her long, bushy hair, goggles, mask, scarf—any detail that he was able to recall about her. As he traced the outlines of her goggles, his pressure on his pencil strokes softened slightly. He recognized these goggles from someone from the past. He was quick to dismiss the similarity though. The person who had those goggles was dead, and this particular design was common throughout Zaun.

He finished the sketch and then glared down at it as if it were actually her. Whoever this woman was, he wouldn't stop until he took her and her group down. Now that he knew how they managed to paralyze their victims, he planned on using this new intel to ensure they were unable to do it to him or the other Firelights.

He moved to his workbench and grabbed an old piece of scrap metal that was resting against the wall. He'd finally found a use for it. He needed to make something to protect their napes so that they couldn't be paralyzed.

He worked throughout the night and into the morning. By noon, he finally finished. Metal plate pieces that could be attached to the back straps of their masks. Not only would it protect their napes, it would also send a surge or electricity through anyone who tried to paralyze them. And it was one-sided, meaning the inside of the plate was safe to rest against the flesh of the wearer's neck without the risk of be electrocuted themselves. The plate was split in multiple sections, ensuring it was flexible enough to allow them to maintain range of motion when looking upwards.

During lunch, Scar watched silently as his leader glared down at his bowl of soup in deep contemplation.

By now, the other Firelights were aware of Ekko's encounter with the mysterious leader of their unknown 'enemy' group. He'd caught them up on it and then showed them his new invention. Each word that Ekko uttered while describing the situation sounded like he was in agony. Everyone could see how tense he was, and how lost in thought he remained.

"Not hungry?" the chirean asked, scooping up some of his own soup at the same time.

Ekko peered over at Scar from across the table and shrugged.

Scar couldn't help but roll his eyes. Always so stubborn.

Ekko and Scar were good friends, and he knew that Ekko trusted him more than anyone. If Ekko was going to open up, it would be with him and no one else. And so, he pushed further for a proper response.

"You're thinkin' about that girl, aren't you?"

He noticed how Ekko's grip on his spoon tightened ever so slightly.

"She knew who I was, but I didn't recognize her. Not her hair. Not her voice. Nothing."

Scar emptied the contents of his spoon into his bowl and placed it down on the table.

"We'll figure it out. We're bound to run into 'em again."

Ekko shook his head. "She won't let any of us get that close. She's too quick. Would probably backflip over our heads as soon as we got close enough."

Scar was a little sceptical on how agile Ekko described this woman. He and the other Firelights were trained well and moved with their own kind of speed and precision. But the way Ekko recounted her was as if she was beyond precision. Like she was some kind of gravity defying creature from folklore.

"Just punch her out before she gets the chance," he suggested.

Ekko dropped his spoon into his bowl. "She paralyzed me, Scar. I couldn't move. Just laid there while she taunted me. And she could do it again. I didn't even notice when she did it—"

"I get it, alright? But you were alone then. None of us were there. It'll be different next time," Scar justified. "You mentioned scouting in partners from now on, right? I'm sure that'll help."

Ekko exhaled and rested his elbow on the table next to his bowl of soup, his cheek now pressed against the palm of his hand.

"She has numbers too. If she wanted, she could've had her whole gang surround me. I still don't know why she didn't."

Scar shrugged. "Probably wanted you all to herself, the greedy bitch." He replied, his words airy and light, trying to ease the tension—if even just a little.

"That or she just wanted dibs on my mask."

The fact that Ekko had lost his mask bothered Scar more than the rest of the encounter did. Ekko's mask was a part of his identity as a Firelight. He'd made it himself. Had worn it for years now. Even during the war—but on his knee instead. It had evidence of their many battles against Silco, and even those during the war (the pink spray paint from Jinx, notably). Now this woman who came out of buttfuck nowhere had it.

"It is a pretty cool mask," said Scar earnestly, if not a little teasingly.

Ekko scoffed. "It doesn't even fit her."

Scar leaned back a little in his seat, now having forgotten about his rapidly cooling soup.

"Yeah, you mentioned she was tiny."

"And she still managed to take me out in seconds," Ekko pointed out, becoming more irritated with himself as he recounted the details.

"You think she's a kid? Maybe someone from the Lanes that saw you around and learned your name or something?"

Ekko dug his fingernails in his cheek, his face still pressed against the palm of his hand.

"I don't know."

"Maybe you should talk to Vi," Scar suggested, "see if she can help us out."

Ekko dropped his hand from his cheek after considering it for a moment then shook his head.

"The Enforcers are busy dealing with Daunter already," he replied.

"Since when do you care about whether or not they're busy?"

Ekko let out a scoff. "I don't. It's just... This is our turf, Scar. Vi's one of them now. We can handle this ourselves."

Scar managed a shrug and decided to drop the conversation.

Both men finished eating and then separated—Scar heading to the balcony for some air, and Ekko to his room to either get some sleep, or to overthink.

The next day, Ekko received intel from his trusted source of a shimmer transport located a couple miles east of the Lanes. He was quick to form a plan, his mind straying to the possibility of seeing the woman from the other night again.

He went over the plan with the Firelights. It involved warning them about the possibility of the export already being raided by the mysterious, unnamed group from before.

After laying out the plan to his gang members, he handed out the metal plate mask attachments he'd made two nights ago and then demonstrated how to clip them onto the back of their masks. He joined them in suiting up—throwing his coat over his shoulders, putting on a spare mask that was lying around since his signature one was stolen (this one looked like a raven), and pulling his hood over his head.

The Firelights mounted their aerogliders before slowly hovering out of the hideout through the sewer pipe maze.

Ekko leaned to the side as if he was about to fall off his board. But before his feet could lose contact with it, he zoomed through the air and began flying in the direction of the shimmer transport.

The other Firelights followed him closely, with Scar being to his right as always. It didn't take long for them to reach the location of the transport—their gliders moved at incredible speeds and allowed them to have a rapid method of transportation.

From a distance, he could see that Daunter's men had already been dealt with and a group of people were about to drain the barrels of shimmer. The export was the same as any other—airship docked at a loading station, surrounded by heaps of barrels and crates and random pieces of equipment.

Ekko gestured his arm backwards before thrusting it forward, waving a silent command for the Firelights to continue their pursuit.

During the plan briefing, he'd given specific instructions for if they crossed paths with this group. They needed to capture at least one of them, the main target being their leader. He'd described her appearance to them, while also mentioning that there was a possibility that she would be wearing his mask.

His eyes skipped each person who didn't match the description until he finally spotted her, his mask adorning her face and causing his spite to bolden.

The Firelights zigzagged through the air, each of them heading towards the group.

By now, the leader and some of the other members had already taken notice of the vigilantes heading their way.

"Ladies, we've got company!" The leader warned, getting ready for confrontation.

They didn't have time to escape. They would have to fight.

Ekko pulled his stopwatch from his pocket and activated the timer. He sped towards the leader, a glare searing through the eyeholes of his mask, gaze locked on the small woman.

He yanked his 'bat', which was actually the second-hand piece he had stolen from the clocktower in Piltover during the war, from behind his back and swerved his board the last second, manoeuvring around her and out of reach from her poking fingers. He struck the side of her face with his weapon, knocking her off her feet. He heard her curse just as he made another sharp turn, heading in her direction once again. He raised his bat, about to hit her with it another time but she quickly rolled out of the way and then hopped to her feet again.

Ekko clenched his jaw and directed his board towards her, the nose of it pointing at her exact position. He raised his bat and charged at her at high speed. As he raised his bat to strike her, he was caught off guard when he felt a sudden weight on his board. He looked down to see that she'd grabbed his board and was now swinging back and forth from below it, throwing off his balance and direction.

He cursed and was about to stomp on her fingers when she swung herself upwards, landing on the board behind him. She was quick to try and jab her fingers against his nape but cried out in pain when her fingers surged with electricity from the new mask attachment he'd made.

"Think again," he mocked.

He swung his bat while she was shaking the electricity from her fingers. She hardly reacted in time, the bat getting caught in her hair as she bent down. While he was caught off guard, she poked her fingers behind his knees and he soon found his legs beginning to buckle. He lost control of his board and both of them crashed into a pile of stacked crates on the nearby docks.

Ekko wasn't able to pull himself up. He still had use of his upper body and upper legs, but his lower legs were completely paralyzed. He longed for his z-drive, the time-wielding device he and Heimerdinger had cooked up in the alternate timeline before it got obliterated during the war. After Heimerdinger came back to Piltover, revealing himself to actually have been alive and in Bangle City the whole time, he helped him reconstruct it. Unfortunately, Ekko managed to break the thing again and it was currently being repaired. If he still had it, he'd have reversed time and changed his tactics, ensuring she hadn't been able to climb onto his board.

The woman rolled over and away from him before pulling herself up into a better position, her elbows holding her weight from behind her as she looked at him from her position on the wooded docks.

"Following us again?" she asked, voice distorted as it filtered through the voice changer in the mask.

The sound of her warped voice sent poison straight through his veins.

"Stealing shimmer again?" He spat, his distain evident in his tone.

She didn't say anything at first, trying to catch her breath. Once she succeeded, she pulled herself up and walked over to him while purposefully remaining enough distance away so that he couldn't attack her.

"You're really gonna be a pain in my butt, aren't you?" She sighed and quickly kicked his bat out of his hand, the glowing weapon tumbling away before coming to a stop as it smacked into one of the crates.

"In that case, I suppose I'll just have to return the favour." Her eyes narrowed, her vision closing in on his new mask. "Do you have an unlimited supply of creepy looking masks lyin' around or something?"

"Tell me who you are," he demanded through his teeth.

She crossed her arms over her chest, her eyes gazing down at him through her goggles. She bent over, keeping her legs straight but her torso angled downwards.

She paused for dramatic effect.

"No.”

Ekko's jaw clenched and he huffed out an angered breath.

"At least tell me how you know my name—how you know who I am."

She watched as Ekko pulled himself up, trying to balance himself on his knees. She sighed and stood up straight again.

"That doesn't matter. Not anymore."

He furrowed his eyebrows, her words only adding more questions to the pile he already had.

"This is ridiculous—you're ridiculous. Just give me some answers already."

She turned away from him and walked over to his board. She picked it up and was surprised to find that it wasn't as heavy as it looked.

Ekko growled as she completely ignored him.

"You made this, didn't you?" she asked.

He tensed, fearful that she was going to steal yet another thing he owned and created.

"Put it down," he seethed, despite already knowing that she wasn't going to listen.

She ignored him and looked it over thoroughly, eventually figuring out how to turn it on and then made a noise of glee.

Ekko expected her to fly off right away, but instead she let the hoverboard hover in the air a few meters away from him and then sat on it, her legs dangling in the air and her long ponytail doing the same from behind her. It was then that he noticed that she had a purplish pink streak in her hair, seeming to come from the back of her scalp. He took note of that detail.

"What are you doing?" he asked in genuine confusion. She was treating his invention as if it were a toy.

"Sitting on your board," she answered.

"—Why?"

She shrugged. "Seemed like a fun idea."

Ekko blinked slowly and then shook his head.

"What kind of leader are you? Having 'fun' while your people are fighting."

"My people can handle themselves," she said, holding upmost confidence in the ones she led and fought beside.

"Yeah? Well so can mine. Your people don't stand a chance."

She snickered from behind the mask. "You mean like how I didn't stand a chance against you?"

Ekko went quiet. She made a good point, and it only served to multiply the loathing he felt for her.

"You're right though. I should get back to them... But that would mean leaving you down here alone and defenceless."

She caught sight of something from the corner of her vision, a slash of neon green slicing through the air.

"Huh, one of your friends is coming to save you. Good timing."

Ekko watched as she hopped off his board and powered it down. Scar zoomed in and swiped his sphere towards her, narrowly missing her head as she ducked. Scar tore Ekko's board from her grasp while she was distracted.

Ekko was abruptly grabbed and hauled from the ground, Scar holding him steady on his board while he flew them away from the docks

"They can paralyze limbs separately," said Ekko, clinging to the chirean as they both whooshed through the air.

"I know. They got a few of the Firelights."

Ekko's eyes widened slightly in shock.

"What happened?"

"It was a pretty even match up. We're fast, but so are they—in their own way. They ended up retreating and the Firelights who hadn't been paralyzed flew after em'. The rest I don't know yet, and we won't know until the others return."

"Shit—"

Ekko looked downwards, trying to spot the leader, only to discover she was gone.

"Did you get any info from her?"

Ekko released a defeated exhale.

"No. Nothing."

"Well, there's one thing we learned that we didn't know before," he said, "The group, they're all women."

"Why only women? They got something against men or..." Ekko trailed off, seeming to get caught in his own thoughts.

Scar entered the sewer pipes and made his way through their twists and turns. "Who knows. But right now, we gotta focus on getting everyone back. I'll make trips back and forth to get the others. You want me to bring you to your room?"

Ekko nodded. "Yeah. Probably the best idea until my legs stop being useless."

Scar managed to get everyone back safely and had also taken the time to burn the shimmer. It turned out the all-female group didn't stick around to drain the barrels like they usually did. By the time the other Firelights returned from their chase, everyone's paralysis had worn off.

Ekko had since left his room and went to the meeting room. They had to debrief their mission.

With the explanations from each Firelight, Ekko was able to piece together the end result of the mission. It was a failure—well, the part about capturing one of them was. At least they'd been able to burn the shimmer this time.

Ekko was frustrated and left the meeting room feeling more tense and stressed than he'd been beforehand. Despite what they learned, they were still unable to capture any of their members and their leader had bested him again. There was also the fact that the women could paralyze individual limbs from poking various points of the body. He asked all the Firelights who'd been paralyzed where they'd been struck, and he was surprised to learn that there were so many different places. Behind the knees, under the armpits, behind the shoulders, inside of the elbows. It's like they knew the human body inside and out and knew exactly where to strike to immobilize their enemies.

With this in mind, he raged towards his bedroom and hurriedly began designing something that he hoped might even the odds for the Firelights when they confronted them in the future.

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Link to Chapter One can be found here.

Full fanfiction currently has 22 chapters and counting. Link to full fanfiction can be found here.

[lynnorien]

no okay but what AM i supposed to do here once im out of ammo and shock sticks. do i just need to run really fast and use heals when necessary

[skrunksthatwunk]

playing dmc1 with my earbuds in (but on low volume bc they're being weird) while my roommate and her shitty bf argue. i feel like i'm recreating the very specific experience of some child of divorce out there