#look just let a girl get stoned occasionally

[easy-there-leftovers]

A Question Unasked

Written with season 1 Spencer in mind

Summary: In which your ambitious, workaholic nature makes Spencer wonder if you've got a crush on Hotch. This slight hitch in his plan causes him to miss a few signs.

[A/N]: Can be seen as a filler from Spencer's perspective of certain scenarios from "Mixed Messages" and a prequel to "As Cool As I Think I Am", but can also just be a standalone

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem! (mentored by Hotch!) reader | cw: slight spoilers for s1e04, allusion to inappropriate workplace dynamics (it's not true, relax lol), slight description of canon-typical violence, mildly inaccurate timeframe | word count: 4k

Spencer looks up from his endless stacks of files on his desk to look at the girl on the other side of his desk. Only a single carpeted walkway really separating them.

He could easily just get up and walk right to her. Ask the burning question that's been on his mind since the Arizona case, but he can't.

Why is that?

He's been your friend for a while, and he's known you for a while longer.

With his eidetic memory, he remembers so clearly when you first started working together. He remembers your starched blazer and pressed blouse, a stark contrast to his swimming-in-sweaters look, and how that alone let anyone know that you were serious about uniform and protocol.

You were, without a shadow of a doubt, one of the prettiest girls he had ever seen, and a fresh graduate just like him.

You were smart, beautiful, and started working at the BAU as early as he did.

And because you were new and young, one of the senior agents had been assigned to supervise your progress. So much like how he was mentored by Gideon, you had been mentored by the unit chief himself; Aaron Hotchner.

He'd like to think that he learned a lot from Gideon. He wasn't the type to hold his hand throughout a case, which he is thankful for, but he had been there to encourage him to think more outside the box. To let his mind be more flexible and creative. To see things from every conceivable angle. Leaving no stone unturned.

He supposed you learned a lot from Hotch as well. With your calm exterior, polite demeanor, and calculating mind that occasionally colored your less polite vocabulary-- He didn't know what Aaron must've been like in his junior years, but he supposed that having you as his colleague was essentially the same experience.

What he does know, however, is how close you are to your boss. Or is it your work?

Either way, you being glued to your work almost always meant that you were glued to him by proxy. You two being the first ones in and the last ones out showed that you spent three-percent more of your time with each other than the rest of the team, and two-percent more than with him.

Granted that had changed as of late, but still!

That didn't leave him a lot of time to ask you if---

"Dr. Reid, if you keep staring at me, I don't think you'll be able to finish your action reports on time." You had said without lifting your eyes from your folder.

Having been caught, he cleared his throat with a small 'sorry,' and directed his head back down to his still endless stack of files. The action earning a couple of chuckles from the bullpen where the rest of your colleagues had certainly seen, or at least heard, the exchange.

Not long after however, he saw Hotch from the corner of his eye lean over the railing outside his office. Calling for you both to meet him inside with his usual stern expression.

Spencer noticed how you got up, eyes still zeroed in on one of your files, and continued on your way up and into the unit chief's open door.

A clear sign that you had been invited there often enough that you didn't need to see where you were going.

You expected it.

He sighs and makes his way into the office as well. Dreading what the meeting could even be for, though he's confident he hasn't done anything wrong.

***

"As you might have noticed in our previous cases, I've paired you two to work on the more analytical aspects of it together. With these changes, we've been able to work twice as fast, and we’re thankful for the help."

Whatever Spencer had been expecting, it was not this. His raised eyebrows evidently agreed with him.

It wasn't everyday that Hotch complimented someone like this, much less in the proper environment. And if your respectful posture, but shining eyes in slight pride were anything to go off of, this was something new for you too.

As he was about to voice his thoughts, you had spoken up.

"Sir, Dr. Reid's knowledge in a wide array of subjects has certainly helped with our investigations. Though I'm afraid I haven't done much aside from ensuring it's accuracy and-"

"No! I mean--," He looked to see you already looking at him in slight confusion before continuing.

"She's been a huge help so far and has allowed me to exchange ideas with her to build a more accurate profile. Not to mention that her ability to mediate between departments has been beneficial to gaining access to pertinent information! So I think she's done plenty for the investigations as well." His voice dwindles as he realizes he's rambling on praises and he suddenly feels warm under the scrutiny of both his boss and his colleague.

He just didn't want anyone thinking you weren't doing anything by being humble. Especially since you're both so young.

Thankfully, it's Hotch who speaks up again after a beat.

"So what I'm hearing is that you're both satisfied with this arrangement?"

You both nod carefully and he smiles a small smile at that.

"Then we'll be carrying on with this pairing into the foreseeable future. Should there be any concerns about this arrangement, see to it that it goes through me. We can't afford to lose either of you." He says it with a finality that prompts both Spencer and you to leave with a nod, but the thought is instantly corrected when he speaks again.

"Oh and agent?" He looks only at you, but Spencer looks back as well out of instinct. "A private word, if you please."

Spencer sees you nod without a second thought and he takes it as his cue to hurriedly leave.

***

It hasn't been that long, Spencer argues with himself, since he left the unit chief's office. The blinds aren't drawn, he would know since he'd been looking at them periodically, so he also knows that nothing untoward is happening.

Yet something is bothering him about it.

From his position on his desk, he can see you and Hotch discussing something on his table very seriously, but he also sees how your eyes rarely leave the face of your superior. He can't quite see your expression due to the distance and the light, but he has this sinking feeling that it's a lot like the one from earlier.

He scoffs at the thought. If he wasn't thinking so rationally, he would've thought-

"Does she like Hotch?"

"Who likes Hotch?"

The new voice makes him whip his head back so fast to see Morgan with a confused face. Upon further examination, he sees him holding something that was definitely supposed to be flicked at him if he hadn't been caught so off guard.

He internally debates to voice his opinion, but he does anyway.

"Do you think that she likes Hotch?" He gestures with his eyes to their supervisor's office.

"You're asking me if I think 'little miss perfect' has a crush on a man that's hitched?" Derek echoes back with the use of your nickname. One that he coined as a playful jab at your no-frills behavior.

Spencer cringes when he hears it back though. He didn't ask this to get you in trouble, but it might come across that way now.

"Who has a crush on married man?" Elle joins in, and he only shrinks into his seat more.

"I'm not asking if she has a crush on him! I just want to know if she might like him and--what it is that she likes about him..."

The two exchange looks before looking back at him. Fully knowing that that's not the reason why he's asking, but they humor him anyway.

"Reid, what makes you think she likes him and not literally anyone else?"

"Well. there's her preference for prolonged eye-contact, a common indicator of interest for one. Her being in constant proximity to him, a sign that shows comfort in certain contexts, and then there's the amount of time they spend together."

The last one might be a bit of a reach, considering how you all work in the same area, but at this point he just wanted someone to tell him that he was either absolutely right, or crazy.

"Kid, that's crazy."

Duly noted.

"I'll say.” Elle chuckles out her response. “I haven't thought about it all, but those signs don't really mean anything. It just sounds like she has a habit of looking at whoever's talking to her." She notes, sharing her experience of being on the receiving end of your rather intense gaze.

His other friend adds onto that.

"And the whole closeness thing? You've seen her, she's like a computer with the way she works. She's a workaholic. And Hotch is another. It's just math, Reid."

Spencer furrows his eyes at the man's statement but before he can ask further, he sees you coming out of the office and staring at the small crowd that has now formed at his desk.

"Is something going on here?" You ask with tense brows. Eyes flickering to and fro.

He couldn't really think of something on the spot, but thankfully Derek had one at the ready. "Was just caught trying add my stack on to pretty boy's plate."

He sees you let out a small 'hm,' and you eventually turn your back to them to reach your desk.

He sighs in relief as he feels a firm pat on his back from Morgan.

"Next time, try looking at what she does when you're the one talking." He says before leaving to go to his own desk as well.

Spencer doesn't know what good that would do, especially now that he's worried one of his colleagues have caught wind of him liking you, but he at least takes note of it.

--------

He does not, in fact, take note of it until very later.

The team had been called to San Diego to deal with someone they had been calling, "The Tommy Killer." An unsub that had a preference for gluing his victims' eyes open.

As they were reviewing the scene in the jet, they had noticed a few stanzas of a literary work had been left behind at the scene.

"It's a ballad from the late 1600s. A Dialogue Betwixt Death and a Lady." Spencer had mentioned from where he stood.

"A 17th Century ballad?" Morgan had asked him incredulously from his seat, but it’s you who answers.

"One where a woman tries to bribe Death with all that she has in exchange for a little more time to live. Naturally, he doesn't allow it. Claiming that she was undeserving of an exception that even kings were denied of."

Spencer looks up from his own copy to see you still looking at your own from beside Hotch. With your brows furrowing in thought, he almost sees the actual gears in your brain turning.

"So what, are we looking at a literature professor of some kind?" Elle asks which immediately perks him right up.

"Well, actually anyone with access to the internet today. You should see what comes up when you type in the word, "Death" into a search engine." He laughed absentmindedly.

"Reid, no wonder you can't get a date."

Morgan's words made him frown, but he brushes it off.

Hotch, as previously discussed, then called on for the both of you to look deeper into the messages. To see if there was anything new that could be inferred.

He nods at him, and looks up. Expecting you to still be looking at Hotch as well.

Instead, your eyes meet his, but you quickly look back onto your file.

Reid thinks it's just a coincidence.

***

"Creepy, huh?" JJ had asked you two as she approached where transcripts of the written messages were tacked onto a board.

Spencer had been focusing so hard that he was caught off gaurd by her sudden appearance. Fully expecting the area to just be for you and him so he told her what first came to mind.

"Actually, conversations between Death and his victims was a fairly popular literary and artistic theme throughout the Renaissance."

Though perhaps the delivery wasn't as as good as he thought it was as JJ only stared back at him with an unreadable expression.

He thought it was interesting, really, but he supposed his slight stutter and breathy laugh at the end must have distracted her from his point.

He turned to look at you for help, but you too had been focusing on the messages and wouldn't be available to do that. So he just agreed with JJ’s sentiment, which seemed to be enough for her to leave.

He sighed out in relief.

"The lady never answers. Have you noticed it yet, Dr. Reid?" You turn to him as you ask.

He immediately refocuses on to the case and tries his best to reply after his prior blunder. "Oh uh-- Right, the dialogue in the ballad seems to be fractured. Well, it's more of a monologue than a dialogue seeing that there is no exchange of information."

A small smile graces your lips at that, and you gesture with a nod to go report your findings.

"So it is. Let's get going."

He follows you to where Hotch and Elle were discussing the sexual aspect of the crime and sees you take your place next to your mentor. The same position you were in when he was blowing out his birthday candles, as he also inserts himself into the discussion.

"Sir, we believe what the unsub has written at the scenes are most of the first three verses of the same ballad." You deliver, prompting your mentor to raise his brow at that.

"Most of?"

"Yeah, it's only one side of the conversation." Spencer adds. "There's no betwixt." He takes pride in your shared effort, which makes itself known by the smile that adorns his face.

Unfortunately, his satisfaction, isn't met with a positive reaction either as he sees Elle desperately trying not to make eye-contact, and your supervisor staring at him very pointedly.

He's thankful though at the little chuckle that you quickly try to hide behind a cough and a cover of your mouth to appear more professional. Quickly looking down at the ground.

He's happy that at least someone thought his joke was well-placed.

He continues to explain your theory about how the Lady in the narrative never answers, and that's enough for both Hotch and Elle to at least think about it.

Their attention is quickly stolen away however at an incoming call about a failed attempt nearby the precinct.

Quickly excusing themselves to get onto the scene as soon as possible, you see them call Gideon on their way out. Watching them as they leave the department doors.

But Spencer keeps his eyes on you as the thought just dawns on him.

You were the first one on the team to laugh at his jokes.

***

The more cases he works for the BAU, the more he realizes how much of his work isn't theoretical anymore. He feels it in the weariness in his eyes, the weight on his chest, and the shake of his hands.

Or maybe the shake is from the cold.

After all, he had dressed for the warm, California air. So now that he was in the cool, air-conditioned jet, he was seriously regretting not packing a sweater, at the very least.

He makes his way to the back of the aircraft after another successful investigation, and that's where sees you.

You had opted to shed your typically structured blazer on the seat beside you, leaving you in a softer blouse, both in color and form, that made everyone around you know that you were officially off duty.

It's a nice look on you, he thinks. A slight departure from your usually stern and hardened exterior. He wouldn't mind seeing a more relaxed version of you every once in a while.

A version of you that looked more your age and not constantly under the pressure of doing well.

He momentarily wonders if that's part of your mentor's influence as well.

He freezes a bit, as if catching himself in some depraved daydream, and takes a few steps back to return to the more vacant areas of the craft.

Before he can get any further though, you see him and beckon for him to come over with a tired wave of your hand.

"How's the flight treating you, Dr. Reid?" You ask, drowsiness lacing your tone as he sits on the seat opposite of you.

"Oh, it's the same as always, I guess. A little colder than usual, but that's to be expected. By the way, we’re actually lucky that we haven't experienced some semblance of turbulence yet on our flights, considering that the likelihood of it has increased by seventeen-percent in the last decade."

You laugh at that. "You really know just what to say, huh?"

He doesn't see it as funny as you do, so it seems. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you or--" "There's no need to apologize, sir. I find everything you have to say interesting, whether you mean it to or not."

He stays silent at that, suddenly nervous, and tries to make himself comfortable. He does so in the hopes that he can finally steel himself to ask you that question.

He talked to Elle earlier when they were waiting for the unsub's call. Asked her if she thought it was weird that he knew what he knew, and if it had anything to do with his inability to get a date. She had reasoned with him that it was because he didn't ask, but it couldn't be that simple, could it?

He mulls it over in his head before sighing. Opting to give up and just wait for a more opportune time.

Besides, jury’s still out that you could very well be pining over his boss.

The action, however, seems to remind you of something.

"Before I forget," You look into your baggage, rummaging around before finally finding what it was you were looking for.

You ask him to close his eyes, which he obediently does, and you place a thick rectangular box into his awaiting lap.

The sudden shift in weight causes his eyes to open, and he is certainly surprised to see what was on there.

"What is this?"

"It's your birthday. There wasn't a good time to give it to you, so might as well."

He takes the box into his hands and shakes it a little.

From the sound alone, or near lack thereof, there could be a multitude of things inside it. He looks at you questioningly and you only smile and gesture for him to open it.

He takes his time in doing so, and he doesn't know how or why, but he finds your reactions to his movements much more amusing than whatever could be in the box. As if you were more excited for him.

He finally peers into the now open box to see some sort of purple cloth. A ribbon of geometric designs cutting through its middle and he stares at it in wonder.

"It's a scarf!"

You smile at him, and he was thankful that the rest of the team were either asleep or just not paying attention as it allowed the both of you to savor the moment with at least some semblance of privacy.

"I've noticed that you had a tendency to wear a lot of layers. I wasn't sure if it was because you were cold, or you just liked dressing that way, so I made an educated guess and got you something practical."

And just like that, he's over the moon.

He immediately goes to put it on with a wide smile, paying no mind that it paired so badly with the short sleeves of his button up.

Not that he would know, nor care.

And just when he had been feeling cold earlier too! "Thank you so much. This means a lot to me, especially since you don't usually give gifts."

You shake your head. "I don't, but it's not everyday one spends their twenty-fourth at the BAU."

He continues to observe the cloth that now hung around him. Smoothing his hands over it as he does with an expression unreadable to you.

You worry a bit and hurriedly mention, "I'm sorry if it isn't your color. I see purple show up on your mismatched socks more than any other color, so I just assumed. If it's any consolation, purple is a great color to contrast the warmer hues in brown eyes?"

He flushes at your admission, but matches your urgency to set you straight. "No! Please, I actually really like it-- It's beautiful."

You breathe out a sigh in relief and nod slowly at that.

"Speaking of the color, did you know the origin of purple dye is actually quite fascinating?" His voice filled with enthusiasm. With his eyes, bright, and filled with a child-like fascination that makes your chest feel warm at the sight.

"Historically, purple dye was incredibly rare and valuable, which is why it became associated with royalty and nobility. The earliest known purple dye, known as Tyrian purple, was produced by the ancient Phoenicians around 1200 BC. It was derived from the secretions of a particular type of sea snail, the bolinus brandaris, found in the Mediterranean Sea."

He paused for a moment, wondering if he was boring you, but sees that you're still very much paying attention to him.

"The process to obtain this dye was incredibly labor-intensive and complex. It required thousands of these sea snails to produce just a small amount of dye. The snails would then be collected and left to decompose in large vats. After several days, a gland from the snail was extracted and crushed to produce a purple mucus. This mucus would then be exposed to sunlight, undergoing a chemical reaction that transformed it into the deep, rich purple dye we commonly associate with our modern day equivalent."

As he kept going, he suddenly remembered what Morgan had told him all those weeks ago.

"Next time, try looking at what she does when you're the one talking."

So he does just that.

He observes the way that your shoulders are more relaxed, how your eyes never stray from him, and how the small upturned curve of your lip makes itself known as you rest your cheek onto your propped up fist.

How he has your undivided attention and yet you don't even look the least bit bored of what he has to say. Only silently appreciating and subtly nodding along with the slow blink of your eyelids.

All clear signs of unguarded comfort, and or interest, in his presence.

Had you really been looking at him like that all this time?

Now the idea of you liking your boss seems silly. Especially when you’re looking at him the way he imagines himself looking at you.

"I did know that, actually, Dr. Reid. At the time, Tyrian purple wasn't only desirable for its rarity, people said it was also incredibly lightfast. That it was resistant to fading under the sun and the weather. Not to mention all that hard work that just to get a single gram of it. Then again, modern studies do claim that its lightfastness was, in fact, not an accurate feature as it's color diminished when it was exposed to light and UV radiation."

You laughed a little again, as if remembering some anecdote, and that sound was steadily becoming one of his favorite sounds. Following only after your speaking voice.

"Fortunately for you, doctor, I could only afford a synthetically purple-dyed scarf. Though that means that you won't ever have to worry about it fading under the sun."

Hands up in faux surrender, you give him a tired smile that he returns with one of his own.

A calming silence enveloped the both of you as you continue to bask in each other's presence.

At some point you doze off, draping your blazer on top of yourself to shield yourself from the cold, and that's when he starts considering Elle's words again.

"Do you ever ask anyone out?"

"No,"

"That's why you can't get a date."

He nods to himself, and reclines a little more into his seat. Snuggling into his new scarf that still has the faintest smell of you.

Maybe he will ask you out on a a date later.

_____________________________

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[riddleriddles]

ಇ margaret.

(delicate, part one)

pairing. mattheo riddle x hufflepuff!shy!reader

summary. After the night of the ball, Mattheo couldn’t shake the thoughts of that girl. No matter how hard he tried to focus on anything else, her image lingered in his mind.

add notes. hey guys, i kind of disappeared for a bit, but i’m back now (kinda of), and bringing more Mattheo because i just love him so much. I’ve been thinking about writing more and developing him a bit further, i still feel like I’m not doing him justice, so maybe there’ll be more of him from now on. And I translated this with AI this time, so let me know if it’s better than when I used Google.

visit my masterlist :)

ಇ

Mattheo was in the common room, immersed in a restless silence. The dim greenish glow of the fireplace was the only light, casting flickering shadows on the stone walls. He stared at one of the paintings hanging on the wall, his hands buried in the pockets of his trousers. His eyes, though fixed on the painting in front of him, were unfocused. His mind wandered far beyond the room, lost in thoughts he couldn’t control.

In one hand, he balanced a cigarette between his fingers, occasionally bringing it to his lips with indifference. The bitter scent of smoke mingled with the heavy air in the room, but he seemed oblivious even to that. It was late—late enough that anyone else would have already been asleep. But for Mattheo, sleep was as distant as the faint moonlight barely creeping through the tall windows.

Meanwhile, Lorenzo was speaking incessantly, his excited tone filling the nearly empty room. He was recounting some Quidditch play with exaggerated enthusiasm, repeating details Mattheo had already heard countless times. Yet, Lorenzo’s words sounded like a distant buzz. It was impossible to care.

Because all that occupied Mattheo’s mind at that moment was her.

Mattheo hated it. He hated the weight of that involuntary obsession. It was as if she had quietly slipped in and taken possession of a space within him without asking for permission. He despised how his mind betrayed him, bringing back, like a cruel reflex, the memory of that smile she had given him at the ball. A shy, unpretentious smile, but one that had planted something within him—something he couldn’t name.

He knew how to handle girls. He always had. It was an art he mastered with ease, conducting encounters and flirtations with the skill of someone who knew the game well. But she… she didn’t play. She didn’t try. She didn’t need to. In fact, she had seemed genuinely surprised when he appeared beside her that night. And that unsettled him deeply.

“Mattheo, are you listening?” Lorenzo’s voice broke his thoughts like thunder, followed by a light pinch on his arm.

Mattheo blinked, reality slowly coming back to him. “Of course I’m not,” he answered flatly.

Lorenzo rolled his eyes, used to his friend’s lack of patience. “You’ve been off since that ball. Everything alright? Or did that girl actually get to you and your cold heart?”

“Don’t start, Enzo,” Mattheo replied with a frustrated sigh, leaning forward and crushing the cigarette in the silver ashtray on the table.

“Oh, it got to you,” Lorenzo laughed, teasing. “I’ve never seen you dance before. Especially not a waltz. And with a girl.”

“I was bored,” Mattheo lied, but the excuse came out with so little conviction that even he could tell how pathetic it sounded. He leaned back on the couch, squeezing his eyes shut as if that could push away the persistent images that kept invading his mind.

But if it was just boredom, why did he keep checking every room he entered, looking for her out of the corner of his eye? Why did that damn floral perfume seem embedded in his memory, like an echo that wouldn’t leave him?

The irritation burned inside him, slow and insidious. The way she had infiltrated his thoughts, occupying a space he hadn’t offered her, made him furious. She was like a riddle—and Mattheo hated riddles. Still, he knew he wouldn’t be able to ignore her, even if he tried.

Letting out a heavy sigh, he suddenly got up. “I’m heading to the dorm,” he announced, his tone making it clear the conversation was over.

Lorenzo raised an eyebrow in surprise, but his teasing grin remained. “Good night, broken heart,” he joked, but Mattheo didn’t respond.

When Mattheo reached the dormitory, he threw himself onto the bed with a low grunt, closing his eyes in a near-desperate motion. But the darkness didn’t bring the relief he had expected. On the contrary.

The first thing his mind conjured was the image of her bidding him farewell at the entrance to the Hufflepuff common room. The soft smile she had given him as she closed the door, the light of the hall reflecting off her shiny shoes as she carefully descended the stairs, holding the hem of her dress. It was an annoyingly vivid memory.

He turned on the bed, restless. He tried to push the thoughts away, but deep down he knew it wouldn’t be that simple. She wouldn’t leave his mind so easily. Not at all.

Days passed, dragged out, as if the universe was mocking Mattheo, torturing him while repeatedly playing those thoughts about her like a broken record. He tried to distract himself, searching for anything that would take him away from the constant irritation of being at the mercy of his own mind, but everything seemed utterly ineffective. Quidditch, and even the classes—which he no longer took as seriously—failed to pull his attention away and keep her image from his thoughts. And he hated it.

One day, Mattheo decided he would focus on the Quidditch practice. The cold wind sliced through his face as he flew with absurd precision, throwing the balls against the hoops with a force that seemed to expel his frustration along with them. But even then, something still distracted him. A simple glance at the stands and he realised: he was hoping she would be there, watching him. And the anger came back with full force. “This is ridiculous,” he repeated to himself, trying to refocus on the practice, but the truth was, nothing would pull him away from her.

That evening, the Great Hall exuded a vibrant atmosphere. The enchanted ceiling reflected a starry night sky, while floating candelabras gently spread a golden light across the long House tables. The sound of conversations and laughter mixed with the clinking of cutlery against silver plates. Platters overflowed with delicacies: succulent roasts, steaming bread, and colourful desserts that emitted a comforting aroma, filling the room with warmth that contrasted with the chilly air outside.

And then, there she was.

Mattheo saw her for the first time since that ball, and she seemed, if possible, even more enchanting. She was wearing her yellow and black daily robes, sitting near the centre of the Hufflepuff table, her face softly illuminated by the light of the candelabras. Her smile stood out among the crowd, and her hair, lightly tied up, seemed to catch the light in a way that made it glow gently. She leaned forward, laughing at something someone beside her had said—a trivial scene, but to Mattheo, it felt like the entire Great Hall had bent around her, as if the very room conspired to draw his attention to her.

In that instant, the buzz of conversations around him seemed to disappear, muffled by the intensity of his focus. He quickly glanced away, blinking repeatedly as he looked at his plate, his fingers tightening around the fork he was holding, as if that could push away the growing sense of discomfort. But the scent he had already come to know—that sweet floral perfume—seemed to linger in the air, even though she was metres away, as if the universe had decided to torment him.

The Great Hall, to Mattheo, had never seemed so crowded and, at the same time, so empty.

ಇ

The cold wind cut through the air in Hogsmeade that Saturday afternoon. The clear sky allowed the sun to shine gently, while the breeze stirred the leaves and flowers, which responded with a soft, rhythmic rustling. The small village was more crowded than usual, filled with excited Hogwarts students strolling through the stone streets. Between laughter and voices, the windows of candy, clothing, and curiosity shops made for a cozy, vibrant scene.

Mattheo walked calmly, having separated from his friends only a few minutes earlier. His hands rested in his pockets, and his mind was as distant as the mountains in the background. The sounds around him were nothing but muffled noise, unable to distract him from the thoughts that haunted him incessantly: her. He tried, in every way, to find a distraction, but it seemed useless. As if the universe insisted on mocking him, his eyes found her.

She was standing in front of one of the candy shops, looking undecided about whether to go in or not. With her hands holding her coat to protect herself from the cold, her shoulders were slightly hunched against the icy breeze. Her hair shone under the soft light of the afternoon sun, moving gently with the wind. She seemed so absorbed in her thoughts that she didn’t even notice Mattheo approaching. He stopped a step ahead of her, hesitating for a moment, as if the simple act of approaching her required more effort than usual.

Then, she saw him. Her eyes widened slightly before a shy but genuine smile appeared on her face. That smile had been haunting Mattheo since the ball. She seemed surprised, as if meeting him here was the last thing she expected.

“Hi… Mattheo, right?” Her voice was soft, a little uncertain, but filled with sincere sweetness. There was a hesitation in her tone, as if she feared he might not remember her or, worse, might prefer not to speak with her.

Mattheo exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. For a brief moment, he was caught between the impact of that smile and her simple beauty. “Yeah, that’s right… What are you doing here alone… again?” he asked, a slight teasing tone slipping out unintentionally.

His eyes wandered over her face, as if trying to memorize every detail—the gentle curve of her lips, the faint blush coloring her cheeks, and the shy gleam in her eyes.

She laughed, a light and somewhat nervous sound, as her cheeks flushed a deeper pink, perhaps from the cold, perhaps from shyness. “I came to buy some chocolates. I don’t know how, but I ended up here. I think the smell of sugar drew me in.” She laughed at herself, as if finding her own distraction amusing.

Mattheo watched her closely. The calmness of that moment contrasted with the chaos that was unfolding inside him. This was the first time they were alone, without interruptions, and he realized that, although he had imagined this scene countless times in his mind, now he didn’t quite know what to say. He, who always had the right words, found himself momentarily lost. It was strange… and irritatingly fascinating.

“Actually, I was going to buy something next door…” he began, his voice coming out more casually than he had expected. “If you want company, maybe we could go together?”

She blinked, surprised, and then her eyes brightened with contained curiosity. “Sure, I’d love that. Maybe you can even help me choose something. I always get so indecisive in these candy shops.” She smiled lightly, her lips curving ever so slightly, but to Mattheo, it seemed like something monumental.

He managed a more genuine smile, feeling his own hesitation fade away. “Definitely. I’m practically an expert on chocolate, if you want to know.” He opened the door to the shop, inviting her in with a casual gesture.

Inside, the aroma of chocolate and sugar enveloped them. The conversation flowed easier than Mattheo had imagined, with her laughing softly at his ironic comments about the more eccentric sweets in the shop. He found that he enjoyed listening to her more than he had expected, and for the first time in days, his mind seemed less chaotic. It was as though being near her made everything a little clearer, a little simpler.

When they left the shop, both carrying bags full of candy, Mattheo felt a strange desire to prolong the moment. The cold wind didn’t seem so intense anymore, and the sound of her laughter echoed in his mind like music. He found himself looking at her again, noticing how the soft light of the late afternoon highlighted the delicate features of her face.

For a brief moment, he almost reached out to brush a strand of hair from her eyes, but he stopped. He didn’t want to be too forward. He didn’t know her well enough for such a casual gesture… at least, not yet.

When the sun began to set, they said their goodbyes. She smiled once more, a sweet and peaceful smile, before waving and heading toward the carriage with a friend. Mattheo stood there for a few moments, watching her walk away.

ಇ

The air around the lake was calm and serene, as still as the water that reflected the orange sky of the late afternoon. Only the subtle sound of the waves and the whisper of the wind through the trees filled the space. The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, casting a soft golden hue over everything, as if the world had paused in that moment. She sat by the lake, her legs crossed and her eyes fixed on the water’s surface, as if trying to uncover some invisible secret hidden there.

Mattheo saw her from a distance, and his breath faltered for a moment. How was it that she seemed to be everywhere lately? He knew he should simply move on, pretend he hadn’t seen her, but it felt like an impossible task. It was as though an invisible force was pulling him towards her, persistent and inevitable. Perhaps it was the way the sunlight seemed to dance in her hair, or the almost untouchable peace that seemed to surround her, in stark contrast to the chaos she always left in his mind.

He took a deep breath, pushing aside the strange shyness that only seemed to appear in her presence, and made his way over. The sound of his footsteps on the grass caught her attention, and she turned her face towards him, her eyes lighting up slightly. For a moment, she seemed surprised, but soon looked away again, returning her gaze to the lake in a calm posture, as if trying to hide any reaction.

“Do you always run off here alone?” he asked, shoving his hands in his pockets as he stopped beside her.

She shrugged slightly, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “Sometimes. I like the peace here. No one comes around except in the summer.”

“I see,” he replied, sitting beside her without asking for permission, though he kept a respectful distance. “It’s the kind of place that makes you forget you’re surrounded by so many people all the time.”

“Exactly.” She nodded, turning her face towards him. Her eyes briefly examined his face, as if she was assessing his presence. “Here it feels… outside of reality.”

He nodded silently, relieved that she didn’t seem bothered by his approach. “A good place to think… or to escape,” he added lightly.

She chuckled softly, the sound delicate and almost musical. Mattheo noticed how her eyes would close slightly when she smiled, and had to look away to the water, afraid he was staring too intently.

For a few moments, silence stretched between them, but it was comfortable. The cool breeze from the lake brought a sense of calm, while the reflection of the sky on the water created an almost magical scene. Mattheo tried to think of something to say, but her natural ease made it harder than he’d like to admit.

“So, do you come here often?” he asked, his voice coming out quieter than he’d intended.

She turned her face towards him, her eyes soft and curious. “Yes, it’s one of my favourite places at the castle.”

He nodded, feeling a small satisfaction from learning something more about her. Any detail was valuable.

“I hope I’m not disturbing your peace,” he teased, a slight smile playing at the corner of his lips.

She shook her head quickly, sincerity in her response. “Of course not. It’s nice to have company sometimes.”

Her answer caught him off guard, and he felt a more genuine smile spread across his face. But realising how silly it must have looked, he cleared his throat and turned his gaze to the lake, picking up a stone from the shore. He tossed it expertly, and the small rock skipped across the water three times before sinking.

“You’re good at that,” she commented, sounding a bit impressed. “I didn’t know it was one of your talents.”

“There are many things about me you don’t know,” he replied, with a teasing tone, though not daring to look at her directly. He didn’t notice the faint blush that coloured her cheeks.

She laughed softly, but didn’t respond, and that left him restless. He didn’t want the conversation to end there.

“Do you want to try?” He offered her another stone.

She hesitated for a moment before taking the stone from his hand, her fingers brushing his briefly. It was a brief touch, but one that left a warm trace in his mind. She threw the stone with a little less force than necessary, and it sank almost immediately.

She laughed at herself, that sweet, light sound he wanted to hear forever. “Clearly, I’m not as talented as you.”

Mattheo chuckled at her failed attempt, but, to him, it was adorable. Everything about her was adorable—the way she spoke, how she smiled, how she moved. He was lost for her, and he knew it.

“It just takes practice,” he said, trying to keep his tone casual while holding back a smile.

The afternoon passed with laughter, casual conversation, and more attempts on her part to skip stones across the lake, all equally disastrous. But Mattheo didn’t mind. In fact, he preferred it this way. Any excuse to stay beside her, watching every little detail, was more than enough.

And as the sun began to hide behind the trees, casting the sky in deeper tones, Mattheo realised that his affection for her was growing at an almost alarming rate. But he didn’t want to stop.

ಇ

During Herbology class, the afternoon was warm. The students were scattered around the garden, working with the magical and exotic plants they were being taught to handle. Professor Sprout was observing closely, walking between the rows, supervising everyone’s efforts.

She was focused, struggling with a bold plant that had, without warning, begun to wind itself around her arm. With every movement she made, the plant tightened, as though it had a mind of its own and no friendly intentions.

“Oi! All right there?” Mattheo’s voice suddenly called, close enough to startle her. He approached with that playful smile on his lips, and she hadn’t realised he had been watching her since the beginning of the class.

She jumped slightly, turning to face him while still fighting against the stubborn plant. “I’m fine, yeah,” she replied with a slightly awkward smile, trying to cover up the disastrous situation. “It’s just… I haven’t quite figured out how to deal with this little plant.”

Mattheo laughed. He found it adorable how, even with the plant practically choking her arm, she still tried to maintain composure. But he could see right through the façade.

“Here, let me help,” he offered, stepping close enough for her to catch a faint whiff of his cologne, mixed with a trace of cigarette smoke on his robes. It wasn’t unpleasant, but unmistakable.

Now, with him so close, she noticed details she hadn’t before: the discreet scar on his cheek that she’d never noticed, and another that she liked to observe on the tip of his nose.

He wasn’t wearing the usual green and black Slytherin cloak, only the white shirt and loosely tied tie. His sleeves rolled up revealed strong forearms. With an absurd ease, he began untangling the plant from her arm.

“Is this all you can do? Let a little plant tear you to pieces?” he asked in a mocking tone, inspecting the marks the plant had left.

“Or do you like the pain?” He laughed, gently taking her hand to examine it more closely. His hands were cold and rough, but the touch, surprisingly, was gentle, as though he was trying not to hurt her more.

“Of course not, shut up!” She quickly replied, giving him a playful tap on the shoulder while letting out a light laugh. “It’s just that this plant, in particular, is a bit more… complex.”

“Complex?” A smile formed on his face. “It’s just another stupid plant,” he said, gently releasing her arm. His words made her give him a small frown.

“That’s what you think!” She shot back, pointing a finger directly at his chest. “This ‘stupid plant’ is worth the effort if you learn how to deal with it”

“Ah, right. And I suppose you know exactly what you’re doing, don’t you?” He teased, with a mischievous smile. She squinted her eyes at him, clearly not finding it funny.

“I’ll learn, alright?” She replied firmly, though he doubted her conviction would last long.

Mattheo chuckled quietly, stepping back a bit and crossing his arms while watching her with an amused— and something more, something he kept carefully hidden— look. “Oh, I’m sure you will.”

Determined, she tried again. She touched the plant carefully, moving her other hand with a pair of scissors, but it didn’t work. As soon as she got too close, the plant grabbed her arm again, this time with more force, causing her to bite her cheek in an attempt to hold back the pain.

Mattheo rolled his eyes as he watched her make the same mistake, but when he noticed the discomfort in her expression and the visibly tight grip on her arm, his face shifted. He quickly approached.

“Wait, let me take care of this,” he said, taking her arm again, this time with more urgency. He was so close that she could feel the heat radiating from him. “Relax your arm,” he instructed, his voice low and firm.

She obeyed, relaxing her arm, and after a few seconds, the plant gave way. He released it, while she quickly pulled her arm back, massaging her sore wrist.

“I’m never going to finish this task,” she complained, still rubbing the spot.

“Stop whining,” Mattheo said with a cheeky smile, his voice firm but laid-back. “You’re just being too nice to the plant. That’s not how it works.”

His words made her glare at him with a challenging look, as though silently daring him to show her something better.

“Watch and learn,” he said confidently — perhaps a bit too confidently. He stepped closer to the plant, rolling up his sleeves to avoid getting his shirt dirty. He studied the position of the roots for a few seconds before grabbing the plant with far more force than she had dared. Then, with scissors in hand, he cut the necessary parts with precision, finishing the task effortlessly.

“How can you be kind to a plant like that? That’s not how it works,” he remarked, wiping his hands with a cloth.

She watched the scene with a strange feeling growing in her stomach. It was odd seeing him so forceful with something, as he always seemed so calm and carefree. His sleeves rolled up, his strong arms, the confident manner — something about it made her blush. He looked strangely handsome in that moment.

“Hm, you’re rather good at that. Another skill of yours I had no idea existed,” she said, regaining her composure as she bent down to gather the little fruits that had fallen to the ground.

“There are plenty of things you still don’t know I’m good at,” he said casually, with an enigmatic smile.

ಇ

The cold night wind blew gently across the castle courtyard, where she sat on one of the stone benches, reviewing her notes. Mattheo, who had a habit of seeking her out at night, was leaning against a nearby column, watching her in silence while pretending to be distracted.

“You know staring at me isn’t going to help me study, right?” she asked, not taking her eyes off the parchment in front of her, though a small smile played at her lips.

“I’m not staring, I’m just—” He began, but was interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching.

“Well, well, look who I find here.” Cedric Diggory’s unmistakably confident voice cut through the air, and Mattheo immediately straightened up, crossing his arms as he observed the new arrival.

She looked up, surprised, and forced a smile, a little nervous. “Hi, Cedric. Long time no see.”

Cedric stopped in front of her, his bright, warm smile — the one so many people found charming — still intact. “That’s true. I thought you’d forgotten about me.”

“Not at all,” she replied, looking away slightly, visibly uncomfortable. “But I’ve been busy with studies.”

Mattheo narrowed his eyes, observing the interaction with a neutral expression, but anyone who knew him well would notice the tension in his jaw. He stayed silent, but his gaze never left Cedric.

“Well, I’m glad to see you’re alright,” Cedric continued, completely ignoring Mattheo’s presence. He leaned in slightly, in a casual gesture, though it seemed a bit too intimate for those watching. “You know, I still feel bad about that night…”

She froze for a moment, a bit unsettled by the mention, before lowering her gaze. “Oh… Cedric, that’s in the past. No need to worry about it now.”

Mattheo frowned, curious and visibly suspicious, but he remained where he was, his hands now clenched into loose fists.

“Still, I want to apologise. You deserved someone who—”

“Cedric,” she interrupted, her voice soft but firm. Standing up from the bench, she looked away once more. “It’s really fine. I’ve gotten over it. We’re friends, right?”

Cedric’s smile faltered for a moment, but he nodded. “Of course. Friends.” He stepped back a little, seeming slightly uncomfortable. “Well, I hope to see you at the next match. It was good seeing you.”

“It was good to see you too,” she said, maintaining her calm posture, though still visibly shy.

Cedric waved one last time before walking away, finally noticing Mattheo’s presence, but not caring much about it. As soon as he disappeared down the corridor, silence hung between them.

“So…” Mattheo broke the silence, his voice laced with sarcasm. “Friends, is it?”

She rolled her eyes, sitting back down on the bench. “Yes, friends. You heard.”

“Because it seemed more like he was trying to… I don’t know… redeem himself or something,” Mattheo said, stepping closer, leaning against the bench beside her, his arms still crossed. “Is there something I should know?”

She sighed, closing the parchment. “It’s nothing important. Cedric was… just a disappointment, nothing more. And it’s in the past.”

He raised an eyebrow, the jealousy clear in his eyes. “A disappointment, huh?”

“Yes, Mattheo. A disappointment.” She looked at him seriously, though with a hint of amusement in her gaze. “And for your information, I feel absolutely nothing for him.”

“Really?” He leaned in a little, his face closer to hers. “Because it seemed like he still feels something for you.”

She shook her head, laughing lightly. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous?” He smiled, though there was something challenging in his expression. “If I’m ridiculous, then what is he?”

“Uninteresting.”

Her quick reply surprised both her and him. Mattheo blinked, looking a little less tense, and a genuine smile appeared on his lips. “Uninteresting, huh?”

She shrugged, feigning indifference. “Yes. And are you going to keep insisting on this, or will you let me finish studying?”

He watched her for a moment before grinning, leaning in even closer until their faces were dangerously near. “I think I can accept that… for now.”

Her eyes widened slightly, her heart racing at the proximity. He noticed, but instead of pulling back, he just gave her a small smile before pulling away again, giving her space — but not much.

“Good luck with your studies, then,” he said, his voice carrying a tone she couldn’t quite decipher, before leaning back against the column and staying there, as if he had no plans of leaving anytime soon.

The silence took over them both again, but after a few minutes, he stepped closer still and, in a low tone, almost as if testing his words, asked:

“Was it him who made you cry that night at the ball?”

She was momentarily speechless, her face flushing slightly as she looked at him, nervous. She couldn’t meet Mattheo’s eyes, but the memory of that night still affected her deeply. Her fingers began to play with the edges of the parchment, looking for something to focus on.

“Yes…” she answered, her voice soft and hesitant. “It was him.”

Mattheo felt a wave of protectiveness surge within him. His eyes darkened for a moment, as if the thought of Cedric causing her pain bothered him deeply. He moved a little closer, his voice now laden with concern.

“He doesn’t deserve a single ounce of your attention,” he said, the softness of his words contrasting with the intensity of his gaze.

She looked up at him, feeling a mix of relief and gratitude. Even without saying anything further, she knew Mattheo was there for her, with no reservations, ready to protect whatever was necessary.

“I know,” she replied, a shy smile beginning to form on her lips, comforting yet tinged with vulnerability.

He watched her for a moment, a protective expression on his face, and then gave a slight smile, softer this time, as though he was finally understanding what truly mattered.

“Don’t worry,” he said, in a tone that seemed to promise something. “I’m here.”

ಇ

Mattheo stood in the dark corridor, hands in his pockets, trying to control the whirlwind of thoughts still spinning in his head. Enzo was beside him, observing his friend patiently. But the silence between them was growing uncomfortable. The tension radiating off Mattheo was almost palpable.

“Mate, you’re freaking out over this?” Enzo finally spoke, his voice low and bored, breaking the silence.

Mattheo looked at him, his eyes slightly irritated. “I’m not freaking out. I just… didn’t expect to feel this way, you know? I didn’t think I’d be so… bothered.” He took a step forward, stopping in front of one of the cold castle walls. “But he can’t just show up like nothing’s happened. And she… she seems so… calm.”

Enzo sighed, arms crossed. “You’re talking about Cedric, right?”

“Who else?” Mattheo muttered, almost growling, his eyes fixed on an invisible point on the wall. “He shouldn’t be so comfortable around her. And what’s worse is, she doesn’t seem to care. It’s like just another conversation, just another interaction. But what am I, Enzo? A spectator? damnit.”

Enzo moved closer to him, not showing much surprise at Mattheo’s behaviour, but still visibly paying attention. “And you think she’ll start thinking about you if you keep doing this? If you keep torturing yourself, waiting for things to sort themselves out?”

Mattheo turned to face him, frustration clear on his face. “I know what you’re trying to say, but I’m not an idiot, Enzo. I already know what she feels, I’ve already seen it, she’s not the type to make things clear that easily. And if I try to do something, I’ll just make things worse. I’m not… like him.”

Enzo gave a tired smile, shaking his head. “Mate, you’re hiding behind this idea of ‘I’m not like him’. I know what you’ve got in your head, but… maybe you need to stop thinking there’s a manual on how to act here. Just go up to her. Don’t overthink it. You’ve got a chance, but if you keep going like this, you’ll lose it, and in the end, what will be left?”

Mattheo remained silent for a while, his gaze fixed on the floor. He knew Enzo was right, but the idea of approaching her still felt so distant, like he had lost control over the situation.

“She should be in the greenhouse,” Mattheo commented, his voice tinged with slight hesitation but also resignation.

“Yeah,” Enzo replied, already knowing where this was headed. “Now go on, or do you want to keep complaining for another hour?”

Mattheo looked at him, a little irritated, but also unsure of how to react. He knew what Enzo was suggesting wasn’t just about having a simple chat. He was telling Mattheo to open up in a way he didn’t allow himself to. But deep down, he knew he couldn’t let things continue like this.

Mattheo let out a heavy sigh and started walking towards the greenhouse. Enzo watched him for a moment, his expression serious but still offering silent support.

The cold wind cut through the empty greenhouses as she stayed there, alone, organising her materials and rereading notes from the day’s class. The light from the setting sun filtered through the windows, casting an orange glow across the room. She was so focused that she didn’t even hear the footsteps approaching.

“You really don’t know when to stop, do you?” The familiar voice of Mattheo came from behind her, relaxed, with that trademark tone that made her roll her eyes — and, at the same time, smile.

She turned around, surprised, holding a quill in her hand. “You’re still here? I thought you’d have run off to the common room by now.”

“And leave you here alone, exhausted and lost in your thoughts?” He stepped closer with a teasing smile, stopping next to the counter where she worked. “Seems a bit irresponsible of me, don’t you think?”

She laughed lightly, shaking her head. “I’m fine. Just wanted to finish reviewing this before tomorrow.”

“Of course you did,” he replied, crossing his arms and casually leaning against the counter. “Always so diligent. But you know the plants aren’t going to run away if you leave them for tomorrow, right?”

She returned her focus to the notes, trying to ignore his closeness. “I’d rather be sure. Besides, if I head to the castle now, I’ll probably just get distracted.”

“So, you admit I’m a distraction.” He smiled, his gaze full of amusement.

She paused for a second, realising what she had said, and blushed slightly. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Of course not,” he tilted his head, his eyes watching her every reaction. “But it’s not like it’s a lie.”

She huffed, trying to stifle a smile as she returned to her materials on the counter. “If you’ve only come here to tease me, you might as well head back to the castle.”

“Maybe I came for another reason.” He took a step forward, now standing even closer, enough that she could feel his warmth, despite the cold around them.

She lifted her eyes to meet his, trying to maintain composure. “And what might that be?”

He hesitated for a moment, the smile fading slightly, but the sparkle in his eyes remained. “Sometimes, I think you’re the only person who hasn’t realised.”

“Realised what?” The question escaped her lips before she could stop herself.

He didn’t respond right away. Instead, he leaned in a little more, his face close enough that she could smell the faint scent of tobacco mixed with something woody. His eyes locked onto hers, and for a moment, the silence seemed louder than any words.

“This.” The word came out before he closed the gap between them, his lips meeting hers in a soft, but confident kiss.

She froze for a second, surprised, before relaxing slightly. The kiss was gentle, as if he was waiting for her to pull away. But she didn’t pull away.

When he broke the kiss, the smile returned to his face, now softer and almost challenging. “Maybe that clears things up.”

She was still processing what had just happened, her heart racing, words escaping her. “You kissed me.”

“And you liked it.” He took a step back, but his gaze remained fixed on hers, as if waiting for some sort of confirmation.

She sighed, a small, involuntary smile appearing on her lips. “I liked it.”

He laughed, shaking his head, and extended a hand to help her gather the scattered materials. “Come on, or Professor Sprout’s going to turn us into fertiliser for being late.”

Without realising it, she let him accompany her back to the castle, and this time, the silence between them felt comfortable — and full of new feelings.

[tsireyasluvr]

Sweetness

Lo’ak x Metkayina!reader

Authors note: I meant to make this short and sweet but got way carried away���� hope you guys enjoy this tho! <3 word count: 4k+

Summary: Neteyams death inevitably changed Lo’ak, making him colder and harsher around you than ever before. He shut everyone around him out, but you being the sweet and soft girl of the village made you want to help him get out of his slump. And you did help, just not in the way you might’ve expected.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, porn with plot, angst, comfort, mentions of death, mentions of blood, substance use, alcohol, aged up Lo’ak, dom Lo’ak, mean Lo’ak, innocent reader, praises, brief oral, fingering, drunk sex, grinding, whining, virgin reader, first time (p in v)

Lo’ak struggled with Neteyams death, that couldn’t be more clear to anyone. The entire Sully family had faced their struggles surrounding the older boy’s death, but they had slowly made peace with it. Lo’ak however, wasn’t even close.

He never got over the feeling of it being his fault. He’s the one who pushed Neteyam to save Spider, the one who couldn’t just let things sit and chase after his own family instead. He wanted to save his friend, and in return, he got his brother killed. Lo’ak felt like even more of a failure than before, like he deserved to be treated like an outcast after having his beloved older brother killed.

He’s chosen to ignore his family and friends, ditching his siblings to get drunk and wallow in his sorrows at whatever private place he could find. Really he wasn’t picky, just as long as people would stop bothering him already. He was sick of the looks he’d get from his own family, the bits of pity accompanied by disgust from the rest of the Metkayina clan. 

Never you though. You cared for him, and truth be told you had a bit of a reputation around the clan for being the soft and kind, almost “innocent” cousin of Tsireya and Ao’nung. You were opposite to Lo’ak, never really one to step out of line or do anything that might anger the elders. you didn’t see much of a reason to. You’ve always had a soft spot for the younger Sully boy, mesmerized by how quick he adapted to the way of water, how much effort he put in despite his body not being built for it. He was passionate, rebellious by nature sure, but you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t found it charming. And as his learning went on, you enjoyed occasionally helping to teach him and his siblings, especially when you got to have a few private sessions with him. You were building a friendship, maybe even a small crush arising within you. All right before the tragic death on those rocks. 

You’d see Lo’ak wandering around the village at times, but only really to get his hands on food and whatever alcohol he could get, before he’d disappear again. Into the palm trees, to a separated beach, maybe a clearing near a cave. Those were just a few of your guesses. 

It bothered you. He was once a fiery, determined ball of energy, never taking anyone’s shit and trusting himself to do what felt right. Yet now, he was always alone and hiding. You couldn’t help but frown and worry. So one night, you see him again, walking through the sand in the general direction of what you assumed was the cove, a bottle clearly in hand. Feeling a little brave, you decided to follow him. 

Lo’ak had sat down on a smooth stone ledge overlooking the water. The sun had already set, making your tanhi glow along your soft skin while the moon lit up the scene around you. You timidly walked over to him, sitting down beside him but a little further from the edge with your legs crossed. Neteyam and Lo’ak were the only ones you’ve ever told about your fear of heights. It was something you always thought was a little embarrassing, and they forced the confession out of you when you refused to join them on a ride on Neteyams ikran. You can’t help but feel a little guilty passing that up now. 

Lo’aks gaze was cold, his face showing little emotion while he started out into the water. His eyes had been bloodshot, from the alcohol or lack of sleep you didn’t know, but it was a sight that made your stomach churn either way. You glanced down to his lap, seeing the now half-empty bottle sat between his legs. 

His thoughts were looming over his head, the alcohol doing little to settle the pit in his stomach. That night was all he could ever think about. The pained scream of his mother, the hurtful “you’ve done enough” his father had muttered, feeling Neteyams heart stop beating underneath his palms, his hands wet with his brothers blood-

“Lo’ak?” Your quiet, velvety soft voice broke the silence. You looked up at him with your big green eyes, your lip permanently a little pouty as the cold breeze blew through your curly hair. “Hm?” He grunted, not really looking in your directed as he took another swig from the bottle. You swallowed thickly, before asking your question. 

“Can I stay for a little?” Your voice sounds almost nervous, like he’d snap or bite at you if you pissed him off. He couldn’t help but feel frustrated at this, taking a deep breath to settle his emotions. He turned to look at you, his vivid amber eyes faded into something more dull. “Actually, y/n, I kind of came here to be alone.” 

You huffed out a breath, trying not to let the rejection get to you once he turns away again. Instead, you sit a little closer, letting your feet dangle off the edge as your heart starts racing in your chest. He cocked a brow at this, surprised that the village good girl didn’t listen for once. That, and the fact that he knew how scared you were of heights. Wether he’d want to admit it or not, Lo’ak had always noticed you tried to make everything better, even when it seemed impossible.

“People are worried, you know” You say quietly, your voice less shaky now that you managed to calm your heartbeat, trying to focus on him and the sound of the waves rather than how high you were up on these cliffs. “I don’t care, y/n” He scoffed, sipping on the bottle again, hardly feeling the liquid burn his throat anymore. 

You furrowed your brows at that, looking at the side of his face again as you spoke. “I know that’s not true, Lo’ak. You’ve never been careless. I understand you’re hurting, you have every right to, but-“ 

He cut you off with a scowl, turning his head towards you “Oh, do i? Because according to my father, I’m the one who got us all into this mess. You say everyone is worried, but who exactly is everyone, y/n? Because it sure as hell isn’t my family, and your clan has hated me from the fucking start.” He practically snarled, his eyes narrowing as he looked down at you.

You looked at him helplessly, feeling yet another tinge of anxiety from his yelling, but knowing deep down it wasn’t meant to be directed at you. Lo’ak stood from his spot, rubbing his face with his hand, and that’s when you smell the wave of alcohol coming from his form. 

“Just.. just go away, y/n. I really don’t need this right now” He leaned against the cliff wall, his arms crossing in front of his chest as he waited for you to get up and go. 

You stood, trying to fight back the tears welling in your eyes. Truth be told, you weren’t really used to having anyone yell at you. You’ve never stepped out of line or disobeyed orders, no one’s ever had a reason to try and punish or intimidate you. You wondered if it may have you come across as weak, or fragile. Two things that you very much were not, regardless of how soft you may be. 

“Lo’ak, please” You say, trying to stand your ground. “Please just let me stay. I won’t- I won’t try to force you to talk about it anymore, I promise. I’m just worried about you” You pleaded, the breeze becoming more harsh as you felt shivers go up your arms.

He clenched his jaw, something inside him stopping himself from believing that you had good intentions. “why?” He uncrossed his arms, scoffing as he stood up straight in front of you. “Why are you so fucking worried, y/n?” His voice sounded almost taunting, and you couldn’t figure out why.

“Because you’re never around the village anymore. You’re grieving, and I think-“ He cut you off once again.

“What? That you can fix me? Take me on a special project for your healer training maybe? You realize some herbs and spices can’t make this all go away, right? Sorry I can’t help you crawl further up Ronals ass with your little strive for perfection, y/n, but it just so looks like I’m a problem this clan can’t shake” He growls, every word feeling almost like a dagger to your heart. 

“You’re not a problem, Lo’ak” You say gently, trying to keep the calm attitude for him. “I don’t see you as one, I never have. I see so much greatness in you-“ 

“Save the fucking speech, y/n-“

“Will you just let me talk!” 

“…”

You had snapped, tears freely falling down your cheeks now. “Stop treating me like I don’t have feelings! Or like- like you don’t know me! We were friends before all this, you know how much I cared for you, how much i still care for you. It doesn’t matter if every single person in this clan hated you, I care and I worry! And it sucks to see you like this, constant bottle in your hand and the energy and joy completely sucked out of you. It sucks that you walk by me like I don’t matter, that you never talk to me anymore and that you’re always on something. I can’t handle it, and it breaks my heart, so excuse me if I come here to check on you because Im worried!”  

He swallowed hard, taking aback by your outburst but trying not to show it. He felt the guilt slowly creep up his skin, watching your shoulders shake with sobs as you let out a much quieter “I worry���, repeating yourself so helplessly. Lo’aks eyes flicked away for a moment before returning to yours. “You shouldn’t” He muttered out, his voice rough as he reached out a hand to wipe the tears from your cheeks.

“I can’t help it” You whisper, sniffling as your lip quivered, your eyes now glossy as you looked up at him. His hand on your cheek made you feel the tiniest spark of comfort. He smiled a little at that, the first almost warm expression you’ve seen on his face in weeks if not months. “Hm, I guess you can’t.”

Lo’ak cupped your face with his free hand, the other still holding the bottle you so desperately wanted to grab and throw over the cliff. He brushed his thumb softly against your cheek, looking into your teary eyes as his heart beat faster. “If you keep getting involved with me like this, you’re going to get hurt, y/n. I think I might have a bit of curse on me” He tried to joke, but you saw past the slight smile.

“Then we’ll let that be my lesson” you say sternly, reaching a delicate hand to hold onto his wrist as you stayed close to him. “Alright, fine. You win, princess” He sighed, before letting go of you and moving back down to where he was sitting, looking back at you as an unspoken invitation to join him. 

you padded over to where he was, shivering slightly as the night wore on, the stone cold against your skin. His eyes were on you, seeing the shiver on your skin from the cold as you tugged a little on the sheer sleeves from the woven top you wore. 

“You cold?” He asked, observing your shivering form. You looked at him, shrugging a little, trying not to seem needy or like you were disturbing the newfound peace. He smirked a little, offering you the nearly empty bottle. 

You made a face at that. “No thanks. I’m not much for drinking” you look back down at your lap, fiddling with the little pearls hanging from your loincloth. 

“Have you ever tried it?” He asked, not necessarily pushing, but definitely holding a teasing tone over you. You shook your head no.

He leaned back, snickering a little bit as he closed his eyes, enjoying the breeze on his flushed skin. “Fuck..” He muttered under his breath, opening his eyes to quickly look at you before focusing back on the water beneath them.

“what?” you ask, furrowing your brows in slight confusion. “you’re just so fucking innocent. Like, shielded or something” He smirked, shaking his head slightly. You scoffed a little at that, your lips pouty again. “what, so now i’m not interesting because I haven’t had any messed up traumatic stories?” you crossed your arms as you looked at him. 

“Never said that” He replied, still not looking at you. “Then what are you trying to imply with that?” He licked his teeth before looking at you with another smirk, his fangs momentarily on display. “You’re too trusting. Always looking out for everyone else’s well-being before your own. You walk around like some sort of Angel, y/n.” He used a human term, something he did often. You knew one of the few things he bonded over with his dad was studying the language. 

“You say that like it’s an insult” You quip back, rubbing your arms for warmth. “Because it is.” He replied, eyes scanning over you. “You’re so naive sometimes that it hurts just looking at. Letting people walk all over you. You deserve better than everything that’s been surrounding us.” 

You tried not to let his words bother you, but he really could be so mean sometimes, wether it was intentional or not. Your eyes drift down to the bottle in his lap, feeling a sudden impulse within you as you reach out your hand for it. “give me that” 

“what?” he raised a brow, looking at you with a mix of surprise and amusement. “you want a drink?” 

“Yes, I do. Now are you gonna share or am I too innocent for even a sip?” you say, your look unwavering. 

“Well then” He chuckled, passing the bottle over to you, his eyes never leaving yours. “Go on then. Take a sip.”

You continued holding eye contact with him as you bring the cold bottle to your plump, pink lips, taking a swig before grimacing at the taste, a drop trickling down your chin. “Eywa” you muttered under your breath, the liquid leaving a terrible burn down your throat.

“Fuck, you’re cute” He said, reaching out to wipe off the droplet and licking it off his thumb. A small smile played on his lips. “don’t ever get used to that shit”

“What? It’s totally fine! I hardly even tasted it” You try to assure, taking another sip before practically gagging as the liquid hit your tongue

“yeah, you’re a fucking liar” He laughed softly, reaching out to take the bottle back from you. “we should’ve gotten you something nicer as a first taste. I would’ve mixed it up with that coconut water shit you like” He screwed the lid back on after finishing off the last bit of the bottle. 

“you know, you swear a lot” you say, your voice a little more wavered now with the alcohol. He turned away from you, trying not to break into a grin at the slight slurring of your voice. “And alcohol is gross. I stand by what I said earlier” you say, crossing your arms as if to prove a point.

“Good” He replied, smiling at you as he turned his body more to face you, sitting a little closer as he felt the alcohol in his system too, allowing him to feel more comfortable and less of the constant dread and anxiety in his stomach. “Means you’re not used to it.”

“Course I’m not used to it! You said it yourself I’m all naive and innocent” you say in a mocking tone, rolling your eyes at that. He broke into another snicker at that. “you’re so fucking cute when you’re drunk” He whispered, chuckling softly as he leaned in closer to you, his breath fanning across your cheek. “You know, Ive always kinda wanted to see you like this”

You giggle a little, your cheeks flushing from both the alcohol and his comment. “what? drunk?” You ask, lazily tilting your head to look straight at him, your curls becoming messier from the breeze, a few stray pieces falling over your eyes. “Yeah” He laughed, brushing a lock of hair away from your blushing cheek. “mm sounds like you might have a bit of a corruption kink, Lo” you teased, surprising both of you with your unusually bold words.

“Maybe you’re not so wrong about that” He confessed, half joking before continuing “I guess I have a bit of a thing for girls like you. All sweet and gentle. Or more like.. just you” his face has gone a little more serious, looking over your features with an almost predatory gaze.

“and here I thought you were asking me to stay away” you lightly tease, acting like his words from earlier didn’t have an effect on you. “I did, and I meant it. You’re too good for me” He leaned down, his lips almost hovering above yours. “But it’s hard to stay true to that, when you’re sat all cute and flustered ‘cause of me”

Your breath hitches in your throat at the sudden close proximity, leaning in closer to him as you look up at him with that same wide-eyed look that drove him crazy, your lips plump and slightly wet from the alcohol still. “i’m tired of you pushing me away because you think it’s the right thing to do, Lo’ak. S’annoying” you drunkenly mumble, trying to keep yourself from getting too dizzy.

“Well, fuck.” He cursed under his breath, his eyes trailing down to your lips as he gave into the temptation. “maybe it’s time I stop pushing you away then” he whispered, before leaning down to capture your lips in a soft, gentle kiss. You smile against his lips, feeling your chest bubble with excitement as your dainty fingertips come to rest on his chest. 

You pulled back a little, a smile on your face as you leaned your forehead against his. “Am i making you feel better?” you ask, prompting him to let out a laugh. “that’s what you’re thinking about?” He teased, leaning in to give you another quick peck. “yeah, sweetness, you’re making me feel better” He murmured, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you closer to him, his other hand burying itself in your curls as he deepened the kiss.

“you taste so god damn sweet, y/n” he groaned, his tongue licking its way into your mouth, practically moaning at the flavour of your lips. You whimpered at his words, desperately trying to keep up with him, shifting til you’re practically in his lap. 

Reluctantly, he pulls away and breaks the kiss, gazing down at you with pure lust and adoration in his golden eyes. “You ever let anyone touch you?” he breathed out, his hand holding you close by the back of your neck, your palms still resting on his chest for stability as you shook your head no. “Good” He grinned, his fangs on display as he reached up your back to untie the strings holding your top together.

As he revealed more of your skin, his touch became more possessive and hungry. “i’m gonna make you feel so good, baby.” he growled against your skin, dipping his head down to lick and suck at your neck, tilting your jaw back with his hand to have better access. “you believe me?” 

“yes, Lo’ak” you breathed out, your skin feeling hot as you trailed a hand to fist his braided hair. “That’s my girl” he mumbled, his hand moving up to cup your breast, squeezing roughly at the flesh as you let out a whimper. “So fuckin perfect for me” 

You moaned softly at the praises, enjoying the feel of his hands on your body as you cup his face and bring his lips back up to yours, desperate to taste him again. He shoved his tongue in your mouth, his hand creeping down your back before untying the strings holding your loincloth together. “lift your hips for me, mama” he murmured against your lips, instantly taking it off and flinging it away once you did. He slowly slid his hand up your thigh, teasingly running his fingers through your folds before letting out a groan. “Eywa, you’re so wet for me”

you gasp softly at the feel of his fingers, leaning your forehead against his as he probed at your opening, before shoving two fingers in, drawing out a yelp from you. “Lo’ak!” you squeal, closing your eyes in pleasure. “fuck, do that again, sweet girl” he groaned, plunging his fingers in and out of you, desperate to hear more of your pretty noises.

you whined and clawed at his shoulders, not used to the feeling of someone else touching you there, soaking it all in as your walls fluttered against his digits. he curled his fingers inside you, watching you nearly unravel in front of him before adding his thumb to rub quick circles into your clit. “oh! Lo’ak! L-Lo! f-fuck!” he smirked as you cursed, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. He thrusted his fingers deeper, pushing faster, seeking out your sweet spot before massaging it with every thrust. You whimpered when you felt his fingertips grazing the spongy spot inside you. 

 “that’s it mama. gonna cum for me?” He sucked a bruise in your neck, his fangs grazing the skin as he resisted the urge to properly mark you here and now. 

“y-yes! mhm!” You moaned, your pussy tightening around his fingers before you let go, crying out his name as you hide your face in his neck.

He slowly pulled his fingers out, shushing your whimpers before flipping you over, your bodies still dangerously close to the ledge, which suddenly just added to thrill of it for you. His breath was heavy as he leaned back down to kiss you, his arm resting on the ground beside your face, almost shielding you in while his other makes quick work to untie his cloth and throw is aside. You looked at him with a dazed expression, taking the time to admire his face and features, feeling your heart skip a beat when his eyes met yours again. 

He smiled down at you, brushing his thumb over your lip sweetly, but it seemed like you had other ideas. Your pink tongue darted out to lick the digit and take it in your mouth, making his dick instantly harder, if that was even possible. He groaned at the feeling, beginning to grind his hips against yours, his cock freely gliding through your folds. “Fuck, mama, you’re making it hard to think straight” he cursed, looking down at your wet pussy dripping slick all over him. 

“Then don’t” You whined, squirming slightly beneath him from the teasing, feeling your arousal grow as you looked up at him with a pleading expression. “Lo’ak, please.” You whispered, bringing your hands up to wrap around his neck, bringing him closer to you as you pressed sweet kisses along his face, a contrast to the sinful acts you were doing. 

Taking your pleas as a sign of consent, he lined himself up with your entrance, pushing in slowly as he let out a growl at your tightness. “Oh, fuck!” He groaned, his head dropping to rest on your shoulder. “fuck mama, you’re so tight. This pussy was made f’me” He pushed himself all the way in, lifting his head back up to look at your face, a hand reaching up to cup your cheek. you had a look of pure bliss on your face, your eyes screwed shut as you adjust to his size, unintentionally holding your breath.

“breathe for me, baby. breathe” He whispered, pressing a sloppy kiss to your cheek before he began to slowly rock his hips into yours. “Lo’ak” you whimpered, clawing at his shoulders. “I know. S’okay, i’ve got you.” he groaned, his voice low, making you feel more butterflies in your stomach as you listened to every word he spoke. “feels so good” you whine out, panting against his lips. He smiled at you, kissing you hotly before pulling away again, looking down to where you were connected.

He couldn’t help but moan at the sight, speeding up his thrusts as he rutted against you, watching your pussy clamp down on him. “Eywa, you’re such a sight” he grunted, looking up at your face as he pushed his cock deeper inside of you, watching your jaw drop out of pleasure. “gonna keep the mental image of you like this forever, princess. all fucked out like this, all ‘cause of me” He dipped his head back down to your neck, trailing kisses down your collarbones and lower, squeezing your breast with his hand while beginning to lap at it with his tongue.

you couldn’t respond, hardly thinking as he fucked every thought out of you, your back arching off the ground as you whined and moaned, clinging to him as he pounded into your pussy. His hands gripped your hips tightly, guiding your movements as he took clear control. “Taking it so well for me, sweet girl” 

He angled his hips in a way to hit your sweet spot again, letting go of your nipple with a pop as he moved to the other one, leaving light bite marks along it.

“L-Lo’ak, m��close” you whimper, your eyes still screwed shut as you feel his tongue licking and tracing at your breasts, your chest covered in bite marks. “yeah? let me feel it. cum f’me, cum all over me. be a good girl” he muttered the filth against your skin, trailing his tongue back up to your neck, his fangs grazing over it again as he planned out the spot to mark you. “wanna feel you shake against me, y/n. all around my dick. you won’t let me down, yeah?” He whispered in your ear, thrusting faster as he felt his abdomen tighten, knowing he was close but holding back til he got you there first.

“mm y-yes, yes Lo” you breathed out, whining and gasping as you felt your thighs shake, your pussy tightening around him before you reached your high, tightening your legs around his waist “ohhh fuuuuck!” you cry out, not caring about how loud you were being as he fucked you through it.

“shit! fuck, mama, where do you want it?” he strained, biting his bottom lip to try and hold back as his hips sputtered. you looked up at him, your lips swollen from his kisses and face slightly dewy as you open your mouth, indicating it for him. “Eywa, help me” he muttered, groaning at the implication as he traced your perfect lips with his finger before pressing a rough kiss to them. 

Once he was on the verge of climax, he quickly pulled out, cupping your face with a shaky hand as you sat up on your knees for him. He aligned his dick to rest on your lips as he pumped his cock, before throwing his head back and cumming in your mouth with a groan. His hand brushed through your hair, looking down at you before pulling his hips away from you and kneeling down with you, his free hand still cupping your cheek. He wiped the little dribble of his cum off your lip, smiling at you adoringly, whispering “so fucking pretty” before leaning in to kiss you again. 

you hum contently, smiling once he pulls away. you pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, making him let out a laugh at your sweetness even after doing something so filthy. “c’mere” he murmurs, leaning back against the cliff wall as he raises his arm for you. you crawl over, laying down on his chest and nuzzling into him with your face in his neck, closing your eyes as you listen to the sound of the waves below you. 

[fairqves]

꒰ NEVER A BURDEN ! ۟ ׅ ͡ ୨ৎ

(🐰) ──𝓟ARK JISUNG﹙ 지성 ﹚ ꒰ 𝓰. oneshot ៸ fluff ៸ friends to ?? ୨୧ㅤㅤ WARNiNGS : not proofread ៸ fight ៸ petnames ៸ mean girls ❞ bsf! 𝒿isung x 𝑓! reader ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ꒰ WC : 1.5K ꒱ SYPNOSiS 𐙚 in which you, a bubbly chatterbox, and your quiet, shy and reserved crush face a misunderstanding that forces both your feelings to the surface, leading to you avoid jisung like the plague .ᐟ HEAVILY INSPIRED BY WIFTY ── LiBRARY

THE CLASSROOM WAS ALIVE WITH ITS TYPICAL CHAOS AS PER USUAL.

the rustling of papers, the whispers of conversations exchanged between friends, and the occasional snickers of laughter.

you thrived in moments like this, pushing through the crowded rows of desks with a beaming smile and a seemingly endless stream of stories to tell.

and, of course, there was park jisung.

quiet, reserved, and hunched over his studying notes, jisung sat at his usual seat by the window, his expression looking more tired and stressed than usual.

you didn’t know what had exactly drawn you to him initially—maybe it was his quiet presence, the calm that had always seemed to follow him wherever he went. ── 𝖱𝖤𝖲𝖳 𝖡𝖤𝖫𝖮𝖶!

or maybe it was the way he always listened, even when you talked a mile a minute about the most random things.

you weren’t oblivious to what people said about you and jisung—the whispers that followed you down the hallways, the teasing smiles from classmates when they saw you together.

everyone thought you were too much for him, like a bright flame paired with an unmovable stone. but you didn’t care.

at least, you didn’t think you did.

today was no different—at least, it hadn’t started that way. you perched on the edge of jisung’s desk, chattering away as he scribbled in his notebook.

he didn’t say much, just an occasional hum of acknowledgment or a slight nod of his head. but to you, that was enough.

“ji, get this,” you began, leaning closer to him as your hands slapped the table dramatically. “i was walking home yesterday, and this dog—this huge scary dog—came out of nowhere and—”

“y/n,” jisung interrupted, his voice sharp and dismissive.

you froze mid-sentence, blinking at him in surprise.

he sighed, not looking up from his notes. “can you please do me a favour and shut up for a second?”

the silence hung thick in the air.

you blinked again, the smile fading from your face as the classroom noise around you suddenly felt deafening.

“oh,” you mumbled, quickly stepping back from his desk. “okay.”

you turned around before he could say anything else, slipping back into your seat and pulling out your notebook in front of you.

your heart felt heavy, the sting of his words settling deep inside your chest.

behind you, the whispers started almost immediately.

“oh my god.. did you hear that?”

“i mean, he’s not wrong. she’s so loud.”

“doesn’t she know he doesn’t even like her?”

“she’s been following him around for months. it’s so obvious.”

you bit your lip, keeping your head down as their words echoed in your ears. normally, you’d brush it off, but today—today it felt like they were right about you all along.

the rest of the day passed in a blur—you avoided jisung as much as possible, slipping out of the classroom as soon as the bell rang and keeping a notable distance whenever you passed him in the hall.

by the time the final bell rang, signaling the end of the day, you were exhausted—emotionally and physically.

you stood by your locker, pretending to reorganize your books as you watched jisung leave the classroom.

normally, you’d catch up with him and walk to the bus stop together, but today, you let him walk ahead.

at the bus stop, your absence didn’t go unnoticed.

“where’s y/n?” jaemin asked, leaning lazily against the bench. jisung shrugged, his hands stuffed into his pockets as he slightly smiled picturing you running after him just to sit on the bus with him. “i don’t know.”

“you don’t know?” chenle repeated, his tone confused. “you always know. did she get in trouble or something?”

jisung shook his head, though his jaw tightened slightly as he remembered what he said to you a few hours ago. “no..why?”

renjun raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. “because she’s not here. and the last time i checked, she would rather die than miss a bus ride with you.”

jisung didn’t respond. instead, he stared at the concrete, his hands fidgeting slightly as the bus pulled up.

he didn’t know how to explain the sudden ache in his chest, the uncomfortable emptiness that came with your absence.

when he boarded the bus and saw you sitting in a seat near the front—alone, it hit him all over again.

you didn’t even glance his way as he walked past, sliding into a seat a few rows behind you.

normally, you’d save the seat beside you for him, grinning and waving him over like he was the most important person in the world.

but today, there was only silence.

the bus ride was quiet, other than the occasional whispers of other passengers. jisung spent the entire time staring at the back of your head, his thoughts racing.

he wanted to say something, to apologize, but he quite literally didn’t know how—the words were stuck in his throat.

when the bus finally reached your stop, you got up without looking back, walking silently toward the door.

jisung followed, trailing a few steps behind as you both began the familiar walk home. normally, you’d fill the air with stories and your laughter, your voice the soundtrack to his otherwise quiet life.

but now, there was only the sound of your footsteps, each one heavier than the last.

finally, jisung couldn’t take it anymore.

“y/n,” he said softly, his voice barely audible over the crunch of gravel beneath your feet.

you stopped walking but didn’t turn around. “what?” his heart sank at the coldness in your tone. “are you… mad at me?”

you laughed bitterly, the sound hollow. “mad? no, jisung. i’m not mad.” you turned to face him, and his breath caught in his throat at the sight of your glassy, tear-filled eyes. “i’m hurt.”

the guilt hit him like a slap.

“you told me to shut up,” you continued, your voice trembling. “do you know how much that hurt? and do you know what people say about me? they say you don’t even like me. that i’m just some annoying girl who follows you around. and today, it felt like they were right. like i really am just a burden to you.”

“no,” jisung said immediately, his voice firm and filled with held-back emotion. “that’s not true, y/n. none of that is true.”

“then why did you say it?” you asked, tears rolling down your cheeks now. “why did you tell me to shut up if you don’t think i’m annoying?”

“i was stressed,” he admitted, his shoulders slumping. “i’ve been studying so much, and i wasn’t thinking. i was stupid, and i took it out on you. but y/n…” he stepped closer, his hands trembling slightly as he reached out to touch your shoulder.

“i promise you—you’re not a burden. you’re never a burden. you’re the best part of my day.”

your breath hitched, your heart fluttering at his words.

“i mean it,” he said, his voice filled with vulnerability. “i don’t care what anyone else says. i care about you. you make everything better, even when i’m too stupid to see it.”

before you could respond, jisung pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly against his chest.

his embrace was hesitant at first, like he wasn’t sure if you’d let him, but when you didn’t pull away, he held you tighter.

“i’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice muffled against your hair. “i’m so, so sorry. please don’t avoid me anymore.”

you let out a shaky breath, your hands clutching the fabric of his shirt as you buried your face in his chest. “i just thought…” you trailed off, your voice quiet.

“you don’t have to think anything,” he mumbled, pulling back just enough to look at you. his hands cupped your face, his thumbs gently wiping away your tears.

“just know that i’m here, and i care about you. okay?” you nodded, your cheeks heating under his soft gaze.

the walk home felt different this time. jisung held your hand the entire way, his grip warm and reassuring.

you felt shy now, hyper-aware of every little movement, and every little glance. the air between you was quieter than usual, but it wasn’t uncomfortable—it was gentle and comforting.

when you reached your door, you turned to thank him, but before you could say anything, jisung hesitated.

the tip of his ears were a bright red, and before you could process what was happening, he gently spun you around and pressed a quick kiss to your forehead.

your eyes widened, your heart skipping a beat as you stared at him. his cheeks were undeniably pink now, and he stepped back, avoiding your gaze.

“i—i’ll see you tomorrow,” he mumbled, quickly turning and walking away in the direction of his house.

you stood there for a moment, stunned, before a small grin tugged at the corner of your lips.

maybe jisung wasn’t great with emotions—his words and actions, but in that moment, he’d said everything you needed to hear.

© FAIRQVES 2025 do not repost, plagiarize, or translate.

NOTE. ohmgee guys i pulled jaemin in my dreamscape album !!! anyways jisung is so zhang lurang coded u cannot convince me otherwise. also jaemin is so duan jiaxu coded too… my brain is braining rn 😇

୨୧ TAGLIST OPEN ‹𝟹 @mioons @nshmuras @suneng @pnghoon @shawnyle @laylasbunbunny @privareum @briefsaladfun @cyjzzl @sol3chu @txtlyn @d-dilemma @deezbin @iluvnikism @rikibwn @wonsprincess @niawonn @pockyyasii @kiss4noo @nineooooo @loves0ft @ancnymcnzjy @dazzlingjaeyun : COMMENT OR SEND AN ASK TBA.

[grudgecollector]

Afterglow | Nam-gyu / American!Reader

You're reading part two Story Summary: Nam-gyu gets a new job and finds himself falling for the girl behind the deli counter.

Words: 2.1k

Tags/Warnings: canon divergence, Thanos lives, fluff, these people are down BAD. Slightly proof read

A/N: Can you tell that I have a hand kink based on how many times I mention his?

I want him CARNALLY . Like step back... let me take a bite.

PART ONE | PART THREE | MASTERLIST

“Come on…” Su-bong groaned through the phone, “Why can’t you get groceries? You literally work at a grocery store.” 

Nam-gyu rolled his eyes as he made his way towards the sliding doors, already fishing for his vape in his pocket. He’s had that craving feeling deep in his stomach for the past hour, steadily awaiting his break. 

He bit the inside of his lip, brushing a strand of hair behind his ear “Because I’ll be working until five, and I don’t feel like being in this store longer than I have to be.” 

Su-bong sighed dramatically, and Nam-gyu could hear the thrashing of his bed sheets making the man chuckle quietly. 

He found a place to sit against the wall outside, plopping himself down on the ground and putting his phone on speaker. He closed his eyes for just a second as he listened to Su-bong’s string of complaints filter through the speaker, excuses as to why he couldn’t do it tonight. 

“I have plans though…” He practically whined to his friend. 

If it had been after the games Nam-gyu would have caved so much faster, listening to the great Thanos’ no matter the cost. But after actually getting to know the former rapper, Nam-gyu came to realize that they were much more similar than he previously assumed. Both lost in their own pathetic lives, unable to move from the places they’ve got themselves wedged into. 

Su-bong no longer had a pedestal to put himself on, especially not in America where he was practically unknown. 

“Don’t be such a lazy bastard.” Nam-gyu said to him finally, exhaling the smoke from his lungs. “I’ll do the shopping next time, I just don’t feel like it today.” 

Whatever reply Su-bong gave him was drowned out the second Nam-gyu opened his eyes, that girl… The one he ran into a few days ago. He had noticed her quite a bit since their first interaction, his eyes occasionally lingering on her when he was near her department.

To the point where he would even come by to get food, hoping that she would be the one handing it to him. 

“Oh shit, dude.” Nam-gyu talked over his friend suddenly, talking quietly in Korean “That girl just walked out here.” 

“The cute one you’ve been talking about?” Su-bong replied in a teasing whisper, releasing a faux giggle, “Oh man I bet you’re blushing, aren’t you?” 

“Shut the fuck up!” He hissed back in response, “You are so annoying.” Nam-gyu’s hands went up to his cheeks, feeling that they were a little warmer than usual. 

Su-bong laughed loudly, “Oh shiiiit dude, this is so cute! Little Nam-gyu has a crush!” 

“Yeah you’re getting groceries today, dick. Goodbye.” Nam-gyu hung up on Su-bong before he could think of replying. 

~~~

You sat just a few feet away from him… That guy… 

He seemed so stone cold and serious most of the time. Especially when he’s walking around the store. His expression is unmoving, almost bored. He almost reminded you of one of those mysterious kinds of people that draw you in. 

It took you off guard when he came up to the hot bar one day, there was a small smile playing on his lips as he asked about the different things you had to offer. He swayed back and forth a little, his hand coming up to rest against his cheek as he tried to make up his mind. 

You couldn’t help but stare at him a little, admiring the way he pursed his lips for a second before simply asking for two chicken tenders. The way he looked back up at you made your heart stutter in your chest a little, he was actually really cute.

Every now and then you would see him around. Either coming up to your counter asking for the items your coworker had cut for the personal shoppers. Or coming to get food, asking your opinions on certain things before ordering the same thing he always got. 

“Has it been busy out there?” You asked him yesterday, looking out towards the shopping floor full of customers. It was getting closer to the Super Bowl.

“Yeah, I almost accidentally ran over someone’s kid earlier.” Nam-gyu, as you had learned by glancing down at his name tag, replied with a chuckle. 

You laughed along with him, “Holy shit, I don’t doubt it, man. These people just let their kids run around like crazy. I don’t understand it.” 

Now you sat just a few feet away from him, nervous. You always found it so much easier to talk to people when you were behind the counter, as that was your job.

But strangers, especially attractive ones, were always so hard to talk to when that shield was taken from you.

God having a crush at this age is so embarrassing… 

“Busy today?” Nam-gyu asked suddenly, snapping you out of your thoughts, making you feel a little more flustered. 

“Hm?” You hum, looking up from your phone to him. He had turned his whole body towards you, legs crossed and a vape lazily grasped in his fingers as he took a hit from it. 

“Has it been busy today?” He asked again, exhaling through the side of his mouth, “In your area?” 

“Oh! Yeah, it’s been busy as fuck.” You try to respond as casually as possible, with his eyes boring into you like that. 

~~~

Oh god was he staring? 

Nam-gyu blinked a few times before looking back down on his phone, five more minutes left on his break. He skimmed over the text Su-bong had sent him, making him roll his eyes before glancing back up at you.

Your pretty eyes met his, making his heart flutter in his chest just a little. 

God he felt like a kid with a crush, what was wrong with him? 

He had no idea what to even do to strike up a conversation anymore, he used to be decently okay at talking to people he didn't know, but now words evaded him. His brain almost felt like it was shutting down on itself, any sentence he could think of quickly going blank. 

“So do you like it over here? In this store?” You finally ask, breaking the awkward battle going on inside Nam-gyu. 

“It’s been okay so far, boring... But it’s money.” He replied simply, leaning his shoulder against the brick wall. “What about you? How long have you been here?”

“I’ve been here too long. Two years." You let out a sigh, "it wouldn’t be so bad if there wasn’t so much drama.” you shook your head a little bit at the mere thought. 

That word sparked some intrigue. Nam-gyu was always one for drama, finding it absolutely fascinating and hilarious. It was probably why he was so hooked on the reality shows Su-bong showed him, the drama never failed to entertain him. 

“Drama, huh?” He raised a brow.

You couldn’t help but smile a little, “Oh yeah, it’s ridiculous. Sometimes it’s really childish, but other times it’s crazy shit like cheating scandals, managers dating their employees, all that kind of stuff.” You started to stand up from where you were sitting, checking your phone, “You’ll see what I mean eventually.” 

Nam-gyu watched you walk away, his eyes not leaving your form until you disappeared around the corner. God he was honestly pathetic. 

~~~

Over the next few weeks you were able to get to know Nam-gyu a little more, his breaks syncing up with yours most of the time. You both exchanged stories about your childhood, school life, your time in your home countries. He seemed to skip around some topics sometimes, but you didn’t pry, knowing it was none of your business. 

Each day that passed he seemed to sit closer to you, his gaze getting a little bit softer each day. He almost seemed more relaxed in your presence, which you chalked up to overthinking. But eventually it got to the point where he was sitting right in front of you, your knees almost brushing together as you shared his vape. 

You could feel your face heat up just from sitting so closely to him. Listening to the videos play off your phone as you scrolled through tiktok, finding it hard to pay attention after you felt his hand brush against your leg briefly. 

Has he always smelled this good? Or did he just start wearing cologne?

“Do you want to go sit in my car? It’s a little cold out here.” He asked suddenly, noticing the way you shivered each time the wind blew. 

“Sure.” You nod. 

You didn’t even fully register what he had said, not with him looking at you like that. His ringed fingers toying with his smiling lips so softly. 

The walk to his car wasn’t long, he parked near the trees where most of the employees usually parked. A nicely shaded area during the summer, but much colder during the winter. You just hoped his heating worked better than yours did. 

Nam-gyu opened the drivers side and slid inside quickly, pressing the button to start the car the second his door was closed. You got in after him, closing your door and tucking your hands inside the sleeves of your jacket, and you noticed he had done the same. 

The tips of his fingers barely poked out the top as he scrolled through spotify. Clicking on a playlist and pressing play, the music was quiet enough and even quieter under the blast of air coming from the air vents as Nam-gyu turned it on and over to heat. 

Almost as if instinctively, he grabbed your hands, rubbing both of his against yours in an attempt to warm the both of you up a little quicker. 

You could feel your face getting hot again. 

“Better?” Nam-gyu asked, not taking his hands off yours just yet. 

“Yeah, thank you.” You smile, staring into his eyes for a second longer than you should. 

~~~

Nam-gyu couldn’t take his eyes off of you, he felt stuck in place. A warmth spreading across his face, his lips parting and before he could even register it- 

“You’re so pretty.” He could feel your hands tighten a little in his grasp. A cold chill rushed through him, oh god why did I say that…

Your eyes narrowed a little before looking down, a small shy smile playing at the corner of your lips. Nam-gyu felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest, he was so nervous, he could feel his hands begin to sweat inside the sleeves of his hoodie. 

“You don’t mean that.” You let out a small laugh, glancing over at him for just a second. 

Nam-gyu smiled a little wider, his hands shaking just a little bit from anxiety as he readied himself to speak again. “I think you’re really pretty.” 

“Holy shit.” You giggle a little in disbelief, looking back up at him, “I- uh I think you’re really cute too.” 

His hands were shaking so badly now, he could feel the tremble spread through his arms, a shock of excitement shooting through him right along with his anxiety. This felt too good to be true, he almost worried that this was some sick joke, and he would wake up from this dream… back there. 

“Hey. Are you okay?” Your voice suddenly breaks Nam-gyu out of his thoughts, he blinked, realizing he was staring down at your joined hands. “You’re shaking really bad.” 

“Oh… Um, yeah I have pretty bad anxiety.” He expressed with a small laugh, “And it’s been a while since I’ve felt this kind of way.” 

Your eyes softened a little bit, a small smile finding its way to your lips. “It’s been a while for me too.” 

Nam-gyu’s hand found its way out of his sleeve, slowly raising up to cup your cheek softly, “Can I kiss you?” He muttered softly, already moving a little closer. 

~~~

You didn’t answer him. Your hand came up to rest on his jaw, fingers softly threading through his hair as you brought him closer to you, lips connecting in a kiss. He let out a soft breath as your lips slotted together perfectly, a soft but passionate kiss, filled with weeks of tiptoeing around each other. 

Both of his hands now cradled your head, one hand slipping down a little to hold your neck, his rings cold against your neck. You could feel his tongue brush against your bottom lip, begging for entrance. Your tongues brushed against each other in a soft battle, forcing a small moan from his lips. 

Your face immediately flushed at the sound, warmth spreading from your cheeks down to your neck. 

“You gotta calm down with all that.” You muttered when you pulled back a little. A small laugh coming from you. 

Nam-gyu blinked a little before laughing, “Sorry… I got a little carried away.”

[luveline]

hi Jade! Can I make a kbd request of Steve and the girls spoiling r for mothers day?🥹love u!

The spoiling starts early in the morning. Heavy, hot kisses from your husband, his thumb pressed gently to the column of your throat. “Love you,” he’d said. He’d been squeezing your side in his other hand as he said it, like he couldn’t keep the pressure in. 

You shower, and Steve lays out soft loungewear for you to change into. He tends to Wren as you dress, shushing a big cry before it can start and wake her sisters, stooped over her bassinet. “Hello, honey,” he whispers sweetly, giving the bassinet a gentle rock. “Hello. Are you going to be a good girl today for your mommy? I think you are.” 

You sit on the end of the bed, dressed. Mother’s Days are pretty good every year, like a second birthday, and you’re looking forward to a good long day of cuddly girls and kisses. Steve gets crazy acting like you’re the best thing since sliced bread (though he occasionally does it for no reason at all), and tonight you’re promised a hand just under your chest as he tells you how much you’ve given him. 

But for now, you’ve got breakfast to make. 

“Can I ask for something?” 

Steve pulls Wren up into his arms with a self indulgent groan. “Oh, anything.” 

“Can you make me hot chocolate?”

“It’s literally all I want. I need to make that for you right now, or I might die.” He beams and nudges your shoulder. “Come on, let’s go.” 

You trail downstairs with him and Wren where she’s popped on his hip. She’s in the stage of life where she is still wholeheartedly just a baby, but a baby who can smile, and laugh, and communicate with you all and especially Dove. She started crawling just a few days ago, and she’s a happy, smiley girl when she isn’t annoyed at being put down. 

Steve makes you hot chocolate so thick the spoon moves slowly when he puts it in. He kisses behind your ear as he places it in front of you at the table, Wren now safely transferred to a high chair beside you, where you’re feeding her mashed banana on a bendy spoon. 

She smiles at you like you’re the light of her life. 

“Is that nummy?” you ask. 

“She’s getting chubby.” 

“Yes she is,” you croon, giving her cheeks a squeeze with one hand. Her lips shine with banana spit. “She’s my chubby girl, oh, I love her. She’s growing up so fast, my sweet girl.” 

Steve wraps his arms around you from behind. He doesn’t say anything, just hugs you lightly, long minutes of his touch as you feed the baby her breakfast and occasionally take a sip of your specially made drink. 

“Are you saving up all the niceties for tonight?” you ask, tipping your head back to see him. 

“I wrote it all down already on your card.” He speaks in a gentle tone like you had, leaning back to allow you comfortable space. “I’m just trying to get a load of you before Avery comes downstairs.” 

Rousing and footsteps. “That’s sort of freaky.” 

“I have a sixth sense.” He looks over your face with enough longing to feel like a touch, a finger running down your nose and over your mouth. “I’m gonna have to make more hot chocolate.” 

Avery takes her time getting to the kitchen, but when she’s there, she’s quick to throw herself at your legs. “Mom,” she says, grinning at you, “it’s your day!” 

“It is,” you say. 

“Happy Mother’s Day!” She puckers for a big kiss. 

The day is kiss after kiss after kiss. Steve has more than a card, he has a necklace for you with each of the girls initials embedded into small circles, and he has a bag of your favourite candy the size of your head, though he mentions it in private where the girls can’t hear him. Dove, once she and Beth wake up, has made you a drawing with flowers that you pin to the fridge with pride. Beth gives you a bouquet of mildly wilted flowers she and Steve had picked in the garden the night before, as well as some interesting stones, and an empty snail shell. 

Avery, who you’d wondered after a few hours might have forgotten, presents you before dinner with a homemade book. She’s folded a few A4 pages and split the pages in half, topside illustration, and bottom half story. “It’s about you,” she says insistently. 

The story is simple. You eating breakfast with them. You going to work (though what Avery thinks you do at work is a mystery, she draws you at a desk with a notebook and a big smile). You getting home, and kissing each of them, a speech bubble that says, “How are you, baby?” pointed from your mouth. You rub their backs, and sit down on the couch to read with them. You tuck them into bed and kiss them, and then Steve tucks you into bed and kisses you. 

It’s amazingly close to the real deal, and her drawings are lovely. She’s taken so much care to write the story, you hold her for at least ten minutes after reading it. 

“Thank you,” you say, your nose against her cheek. “I love being your mommy. It’s my favourite thing in the whole world.” 

“I love you being my mommy.” 

You squeeze her nice and tight. 

[cranberryjuice-posts]

hear me out please please

Clarisse La Rue with a bimbo girlfriend like her gf is gorgeous but a bit slow and she loves to show her affection to Clarisse and every one knows there together but people still throw themselves at fem reader

OR

Clarisse La Rue x fem reader who is the daughter of Aphrodite and she had a nightmare and goes to clarisse for comfort

- Barbie world -

Pairings - Clarisse La Rue x Fem! Bimbo! Reader

An - FUCK guys please im literally an athletic artistic fem lesbian why does no one love me 😭

“But im not Cold” You hummed tilting your head to the side. Standing in front of you Logan held out his letter man jacket trying to pass it over.

“But You Are It’s 67 degrees out, you’ve gotta be a little chilly” he grinned still trying to push the jacket to you.

You shook your head. “If I was i would ask clarisse for her jacket.

“Clarisse isnt here though, so I think you should just put my jacket on. We don’t want you getting cold”

Considering it for a moment you almost reached out. Your hand only stopping when you heard a voice you loved threaten behind you. “Fuck off Logan, stop harassing my girlfriend”

Clarisse wrapped a protective hand around your waist. Looking at you for a moment she smiled with a soft “hi”; kissing you quickly before turning her attention to the nervous demigod.

“It wasn’t like That Common” he chuckled trying to play it off. Clarisse obviously didn’t believe him, in fact she found it amusing he was trying to cover his ass.

“Baby you have anything you wanna say to him” she looked down at you. Happily wrapping your arms around clarisse you leaned into the hug, “I love my girlfriend”

“Yeah You do” she smiled flipping off Logan while walking away with you. Clarisse wasn’t going to threaten him, at least not in front of you she’d rather just wait until morning.

••

“Im sorry” You frowned sitting on the ares cabin porch with clarisse.

She sighed looking sweetly into your eyes. “Don’t worry about it ok, it was his fault for flirting with you anyways” her calloused hand ran up and down your thighs, occasionally bumping into the edge of your shorts.

“But I didn’t know he was flirting with me” with a heavy sigh you placed your hand over clarisses. “I don’t want anyone but you why can’t everyone just know that”

“I know Baby” clarisse chuckled leaning into you placing a soft kiss on your lips. “Wanna stay the night?”

“Yeah” You giggled slightly, with the help of clarisse you got up and walking into the cabin.

••

Sitting by the Aphrodite table you gossiped and laughed with some of the other girls. The occasional wave to clarisse here and there, you slid out from the stone table to get some more food.

Todays Outfit was simple, deciding on a denim miniskirt a white cardigan and a tight camp tanktop toy had cut up to show cleavage.

Only a few steps past the ares table you felt someone slap your ass. Turning around upset then first thing you saw was clarisse punching the culprit with a French toast bite in her mouth.

You stumbled back slightly, tripping over your shoes. It took three of clarisses bothers and Chiron to get her off the boy who was coming in and out of conciousness.

“Don’t fuck with me Logan!” She yelled with a busted lip from his hand hitting her. her curls were displaced and her body tense like she might fight the next person she sees.

Reaching out clarisse flinched slightly from your hands. Realizing you were only trying to hold her she quickly leaned into you, letting you cup her face.

Examining her swelling lip you led you hands down to hers. Instead of saying anything you just walked her away from the growing crowd and towards the infirmary

Silently dabbing the alcohol soaked cotton on her lip you tried to not get to emotional. “Thank you”

Clarisse Just hummed in Response, softly squeezing your thighs from the sharp pain of the alcohol. “I’m not gonna let someone assault you and get away with it”

Setting the cotton aside you ghosted your thumb over her healing cut. Leaning down you kissed her chapped lips. You didn’t know what you did to deserve her.

••

By the next morning Logan had bad luck suspiciously latched onto him, and his beloved talent in sports had suddenly faded away aswell. Maybe because you and clarisse coincidently asked your parents to curse him or maybe he was just having a bad day. It was really a question left up for the fates.

[asa-do-your-thing]

Helloo, could you do a Theon Greyjoy smut were the reader is a mermaid? Ty ♡♡

Swim to me; let me enfold you

18+ MINORS DNI Theon Greyjoy x Selkie!Reader 5.8 k Warnings: P in V sex, porn w/o plot, smut, oral sex, kind of orgasm denial? soft smut, theon's a bit of a misogynist but that was to be expected, sub theon thank you for the ask, I couldn't fall asleep so I had to write this, I hope you like it <3 oh and I might've gone overboard with the sea alliterations. whoops!

Leaning against an old oak, Theon shivered and took another sip of his mead, staring off into the distant darkness on Bear Island. Lord Stark had something private to discuss with Lady Maege Mormont, leaving him to his own devices. Robb, ever the good heir, had decided to go to bed early and the Mormont ladies - if one could even call them thusly - had fun with their friends.

Sighing, he slowly walked closer to the sea, watching the dark waves crashing and gurgling menacingly against the slick, black stones of the shoreline.

The sea… Something he used to see on a daily basis but now was as strange to him as the concept of being close to Mother, talking to Asha, being on Pyke.

He kicked a small stone into the dark waters and turned, cursing Lord Stark for choosing to come to this desolate place. Why couldn't they have gone to White Harbour? There, he could have his pick of whores without any worries. But here, he had to be careful not to get picked up by one of the women and dragged into their makeshift huts.

"What a pretty boy," one had said with a wide grin and strong arms, eyeing Theon up and down at the feast. "His hair looks so soft, and I'm sure he moans just as softly."

Theon shuddered at the memory, quickly draining the last of his mead to wash away the taste of disgust that lingered in his mouth. The empty horn dangled from his fingers as he cast one last glance at the churning sea, its inky blackness now seeming to mirror the void in his chest. With a resigned sigh, he turned and made his way back to the Mormont's hall, his footsteps muffled by the damp moss beneath his feet.

The hall was mercifully quiet as he slipped inside, the earlier revelry having died down to a low murmur of conversation and the occasional clink of cups. Theon's eyes darted around, searching for any sign of the she-bears that had made him so uncomfortable earlier. Seeing none, he quickly made his way to the large oak barrel in the corner, filling his horn with fresh, golden mead that glowed warmly in the flickering firelight.

Clutching his prize, Theon hurried back outside, the cool night air a welcome respite from the stuffy interior. He paused for a moment, allowing his eyes to readjust to the darkness, before making his way back towards his earlier perch by the old oak tree. As he approached, however, he noticed a slender silhouette standing where he had been just moments before.

Drawing closer, Theon's breath caught in his throat. There, bathed in the soft silver light of the moon, stood a young woman. Her long, slick hair looked strangely damp and her skin had the same light colour as her strange cloak. Squinting, Theon could make out that it was a sealskin - what was this girl doing here with a skagosi coat?

“If I knew you would return I would have asked for a horn as well,” she whispered gently and turned around, giving Theon a small, shy smile. “I’ve never seen such a man as yourself here.”

With an overexaggerated bow, Theon offered her his horn. Gods, she was stunning - Theon did not know if he had ever seen a woman with such a natural beauty as her, even if she looked as if she just came out of a bout of rain, her plain dress clinging to her. “Take it, my Lady. I can always just get myself a second one.”

Studying her closer, he raised an eyebrow and leaned against the tree once more, his arm above her. He had not seen her during the feast, yet she looked far too gentle, too soft to be a servant or a fisherman’s wife, not to mention being a warrior. “So you’ve been watching me then, huh? Then how come I haven’t seen you?”

The woman's smile widened, revealing teeth that seemed to gleam unnaturally in the moonlight. She accepted the horn with a graceful nod, her fingers brushing against Theon's as she took it. A shiver ran through him at the touch - her skin was cool and slightly damp, like the mist rolling in from the sea.

"Perhaps you weren't looking in the right places," she replied, her voice as soft and alluring as the gentle lapping of waves against the shore. "I prefer to keep to the shadows, away from the noise and chaos of your feasts."

Theon found himself drawn in by her mysterious aura, unable to look away from her mesmerizing gaze. Her eyes were the color of the sea at twilight, deep and unfathomable. Whatever did she mean with ‘your feasts’? Surely such a lovely thing could not be low-born. She didn’t look like she was from Bear Island either. Was she a bastard? Maybe Jorah Mormont’s?

"And what brings a lovely girl such as yourself out here on a night like this?" Theon asked, his usual cocky grin spreading across his face. "Surely not just to admire the view? The winds are cold and the feast is almost over. Or are you waiting for someone…?"

The woman took a sip of mead, her eyes never leaving Theon's. "I come here often, to listen to the sea and feel the wind on my skin. It calls to me, you see."

She gestured towards the churning waters with her free hand, and Theon could have sworn he saw webbing between her fingers for just a moment before she lowered it again. Although… didn’t the Sistermen have that as well?

"But tonight," she continued, her voice dropping to a whisper, "I sensed something different. Something... foreign. I was right,” she said, giving him the horn back. “You are of the drowned islands, are you not? Your sharp face tells me so, ‘tis a handsome one. It would have been wrong of me not to find you tonight.”

Theon laughed and gratefully took a sip of mead to try and calm his beating heart and the hardness in his breeches. She spoke plenty strangely, surely, yet she was so beautiful and spoke so frankly, yet so sweetly… and it seemed like she was truly eager to spend time, if not even the night, with him.

His laugh faded as he studied the mysterious woman more closely. Her words stirred something deep within him, a longing for home he usually tried to bury beneath bravado and drink.

"Aye, I'm from the Iron Islands," he admitted, his voice rougher than he intended. "Though it's been many years since I've seen those shores."

The woman's eyes seemed to glimmer with an otherworldly light as she stepped closer to him. The scent of salt and seaweed clung to her, intoxicating and familiar.

"The sea never forgets her children," she murmured, reaching out to trace the line of his sharp jaw with cool fingers. "Even when they're taken far from her embrace."

Theon shivered at her touch, desire and an inexplicable sense of danger warring within him. "And what of you?" he asked, trying to regain his composure. "You're clearly not from Bear Island. Where do you call home?"

A sad smile played across her lips as she gazed out at the dark waters. "My home is everywhere and nowhere," she said softly. "Wherever the tides take me. Like… what do you call them… a salt wife, but I have no master. My mistress is the sea. "

She turned back to him, her hands searching his. Something about her made him so wild, he did not even know what it was. Her quiet confidence? Her Beauty? The mystery in her voice? "But tonight, I'm here with you, my Theon of the Iron Islands. Would you like to feel the sea's embrace once more? My hut is not like the Lord Bears’ big one, but it is warm and the sea is oh so near.”

Theon hesitated for a moment, his mind racing. This woman was unlike any he had ever encountered, and something about her both thrilled and unnerved him. But the mead coursing through his veins and the ache of loneliness in his chest pushed him forward.

"Lead the way, my mysterious lady," he said with a roguish grin, offering her his arm.

She smiled, a secret dancing in her eyes, and took his arm. As they walked along the rocky shore, Theon noticed that her feet seemed to barely touch the ground, moving with an otherworldly grace over the uneven terrain. The sound of the waves grew louder, drowning out the distant noises from the Mormont hall.

Soon, they came upon a small hut nestled among the rocks, so well-hidden that Theon would have missed it entirely if not for his guide. It was a simple structure, made of driftwood and covered in seaweed, looking as if it had grown organically from the shore itself.

The woman pushed open the door, revealing a cozy interior lit by the soft glow of thick, brown candles in jars. The scent of the sea was even stronger here, mixed with something else Theon couldn't quite place – something ancient and primal, but drink and fatigue made him careless, so as soon as she closed the door behind herself, he pressed her against it and kissed her hungrily.

He could feel her smiling against his kiss. "Welcome to my humble home," she said, her voice barely audible over the crashing waves just outside as she broke away. "Would you mind if I take my coat off first and light a fire? It would be a bit more… comfortable.”

Theon reluctantly pulled away, his breath coming in short gasps. "Of course, my lady," he said with a playful bow. "Allow me to start the fire for you. It's the least I can do for such gracious hospitality."

He moved to the small hearth, gathering driftwood and kindling from a neat pile nearby. As he worked to coax a flame to life, he couldn't resist stealing glances at the mysterious woman. She stood with her back to him, slowly unfastening her sealskin coat.

"So, tell me," Theon said, his voice husky with desire, "do you often lure handsome strangers to your hidden abode? Or am I a special case?"

The firelight danced across her pale skin as she carefully folded the coat and placed it on a nearby chair. Theon's breath caught in his throat as she began to unlace her simple dress, the fabric sliding off her shoulders to pool at her feet.

She laughed softly, a sound like waves lapping at the shore. "You are indeed special, Theon of the Iron Islands. It's not often I meet someone who understands the call of the sea as I do."

She turned to face him, now clad only in a thin shift that clung to her curves like sea foam on the shore. The flickering flames cast a warm glow on her features, softening the otherworldly quality that had first captivated him.

In this light, she looked more human, more real, yet no less beautiful.

Her long hair, no longer seeming damp, cascaded down her back in waves that rivaled the sea itself. Her eyes, which had appeared so dark and fathomless outside, now shone with a warm, amber hue that reminded Theon of the mead they just drank.

"And what of you?" she asked, turning to face him. "Do you often follow mysterious women into the night?"

Theon grinned, rising from his crouched position by the now-crackling fire. "Only the exceptionally beautiful ones," he quipped, “and ones that do not wish for my gold before they have even spoken to me.”

The girl laughed and stepped closer to him, untying his own cloak and unbuttoning his black doublet. “Gold means nothing to me.”

“Really? I think you are the first woman I’ve ever heard saying something like that,” Theon muttered, trying to keep his breathing calm as her hands came to the bottom buttons of his doublet, accidentally brushing over his hardness.

“Hm,” she muttered and looked up, giving him a grin that was as coy as his own as she slipped it off him with almost unnatural grace, before she stood before him once more, gently pushing him onto her bed so she stood over him, her chest dangerously close to his face.

“On the drowned islands they also do not talk of gold. They talk of iron, my Theon. Although… it seems like you know the hardness of it. So, in turn, for tonight, I shall wish for it to mean something to me. Do you think you can do that?”

Theon's breath hitched as he gazed up at the mysterious woman, her beauty almost otherworldly in the flickering firelight. His hands found her hips, pulling her closer as he leaned in to press his lips to her stomach through the thin fabric of her shift.

"I think I can manage that," he murmured against her skin, his voice low and husky with desire. "Though I warn you, my lady, I may ruin you for all other men."

She laughed softly, running her fingers through his hair. "Oh, my sweet Theon," she whispered, "I don't think you quite understand what you've gotten yourself into."

With surprising strength, she pushed him back onto the bed, straddling his hips in one fluid motion. Theon gasped as she ground against him, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through his body. He reached up to caress her face, but she caught his wrists, pinning them above his head.

"Tell me," she purred, her lips brushing against his ear, "do you know the old stories of the sea folk? The ones who lure unsuspecting sailors to their doom?"

Theon's heart raced, a mix of excitement and unease coursing through him. "Aye," he managed to say, his voice strained. "But those are just tales to frighten children."

She pulled back slightly, her eyes meeting his. In the dim light, they seemed to shift and change, one moment they were human and the other… bigger. Darker. Just like a seal’s. “At first the tales will scare you, then they will make you long for us, before you forget them. But, my dear Theon, we exist,” she whispered, grinning widely, her hand reaching down to untie the laces of his breeches.

“Do not fear, though… I won’t bite. Not unless you ask me to, at least,” she mumbled, pushing them down, freeing his hard member, on which she sat down with a wicked grin, rubbing her moist slit gently against him, sighing contentedly. “You are of the sea - you are sweet. I will not hurt you, no, you’re too pretty for that.”

Theon's mind reeled, torn between desire and a growing sense of unease. The woman atop him was unlike any he had ever known, her beauty both alluring and terrifying. As she moved against him, he felt as if he were being pulled into the depths of the sea itself, helpless against the tide of pleasure threatening to overwhelm him.

"What... what are you?" he gasped, his hips involuntarily bucking upwards, seeking more contact, seeking to enter her, yet he was under her, he was trapped.

She leaned down, her lips brushing against his as she spoke. "I am the foam on the waves, the salt in the air, the call of the deep that echoes in your blood," she whispered. "I am what your people call a selkie."

With nimble fingers, the selkie tugged at Theon's breeches, sliding them down his legs and tossing them aside. Her eyes roamed over his body, drinking in every detail as if committing him to memory. Theon shivered, feeling exposed and vulnerable under her intense gaze.

"Beautiful," she murmured, her voice like the whisper of waves on sand. "You are a true son of the sea."

She rose gracefully, her movements fluid and hypnotic. Slowly, deliberately, she pulled her shift over her head, revealing skin as pale and smooth as polished seashells. Moonlight from the small window danced across her curves, casting her in an otherworldly glow.

Theon's breath caught in his throat as she crawled between his legs, her hair cascading around her shoulders like a waterfall of dark silk. Her cool fingers wrapped around his shaft, stroking him with a touch both gentle and confident. He gasped, his hips lifting involuntarily off the bed.

"So responsive," she purred, her eyes gleaming with approval. "Your body remembers the sea's embrace, even if your mind has forgotten."

Her thumb circled the tip of his manhood, spreading the moisture gathered there. Theon moaned, torn between the pleasure of her touch and the lingering fear of the unknown. The selkie continued her ministrations, alternating between long, languid strokes and quick, teasing caresses.

"You're even more desperate than I am,” she muttered, glancing up at him before slowly, almost shyly, licking a stripe over his cock, taking it carefully in her wonderfully soft, warm mouth.

Theon gasped as her mouth enveloped him, warm and wet like the sea itself. His fingers tangled in her hair, silky strands slipping through his grasp like water. The selkie's tongue swirled around his length, teasing and exploring with an expertise that left him breathless.

"Gods," he groaned, his head falling back against the pillow. The pleasure was intense, almost overwhelming, yet there was something else - a strange tingling sensation that spread from where her lips met his skin, flowing through his veins like the tide.

She hummed in response, the vibrations sending shocks of pleasure up his spine. Her hands caressed his thighs, nails lightly scraping against his skin. Theon's hips bucked involuntarily, driving himself deeper into her mouth.

The selkie pulled back slightly, releasing him with a soft pop. Her eyes, dark and fathomless as the deep sea, met his. "Patience, my iron prince," she murmured, her voice husky with desire. "The night is young, and I wish to see if you understand."

She crawled up his body, her skin cool and slightly damp against his. Theon reached for her, pulling her close and capturing her lips in a passionate kiss. He could taste salt on her tongue, along with his own musk.

As they kissed, she laid down next to him, evidently waiting for his next move. But what was he he to do with a girl, a woman, a being like her? Whores usually quickly satified his needs but with her… he just couldn’t bring himself to use her in such a way.

Theon hesitated, his hands hovering uncertainly over the selkie's body. She was unlike any woman he had ever been with, and he found himself at a loss. Her otherworldly beauty and mysterious nature both thrilled and intimidated him.

"What's wrong, my iron prince?" she asked, her voice a soft whisper that seemed to caress his skin. "Are you not used to a woman who knows what she wants?"

Theon swallowed hard, his pride stung by her words. "I... I've been with plenty of women," he said, trying to sound confident. "But you're different. I don't know what you want from me."

The selkie's laugh was like the tinkling of sea glass in the surf. She took his hand in hers, guiding it to her breast. Her skin was cool and smooth, like polished stone worn by the sea.

"I want you to touch me," she murmured, her eyes locked on his. "I want you to explore me as if I were uncharted waters. Can you do that, Theon of the Iron Islands?"

Her words ignited something within him, a mixture of desire and curiosity that overwhelmed his hesitation. Slowly, reverently, he began to caress her body, marveling at the way her skin seemed to shimmer in the dim light.

His fingers traced the curve of her hip, the dip of her waist, the swell of her breast. She sighed contentedly, smilig into the dimness of the hut. “More, Theon, I will not break… Show me your strength…,” she whispered.

Emboldened by her words, Theon's touch became more confident. He cupped her breast, feeling the weight of it in his palm, his thumb brushing over her nipple. The selkie arched into his touch, a soft moan escaping her lips.

Theon leaned in, pressing his lips to the curve of her neck. He could taste salt on her skin, reminding him of sea spray on a windy day. His kisses trailed lower, across her collarbone and down to her breast. He took her nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the hardened peak.

The selkie's fingers tangled in his hair, holding him close. "Yes," she breathed, her voice husky with desire. "Just like that."

Encouraged by her response, Theon's hand slid lower, tracing the curve of her hip and thigh. He hesitated for a moment before dipping between her legs, finding her already slick with desire. The selkie gasped as he explored her folds, her hips rolling against his hand.

"You're so wet," Theon murmured against her skin, his fingers circling her most sensitive spot.

"I am of the sea," she reminded him, her voice breathy. "Always ready to embrace those who seek me."

Theon groaned at her words, his own desire mounting. He kissed his way down her body, pausing to nip at the soft skin of her inner thigh, before he parted her soft curls with his fingers, settling between her thighs just as she had done before.

Her scent - gods - he had not even fully tasted her, yet he did not wish to part with her already, his tongue slowly touching her cunny.

The selkie gasped as Theon's tongue made contact with her most intimate place. Her fingers tightened in his hair, urging him closer. Theon obliged, his tongue exploring her folds with growing enthusiasm.

She tasted of the sea - salt and brine mingled with her own unique flavor. It was intoxicating, and Theon found himself lost in the act, his world narrowing to the sound of her soft moans and the feel of her beneath his lips and tongue.

His hands gripped her thighs, holding her steady as he worked. He traced patterns with his tongue, alternating between broad strokes and focused attention on her most sensitive spots. The selkie's hips rolled against his face.

"Oh, Theon," she breathed, her voice thick with pleasure. "You truly are a son of the sea. You know just how to please me."

Her words sent a thrill through him, spurring him on. He redoubled his efforts, sucking gently on her pearl while his fingers teased her entrance. The selkie cried out, her back arching off the bed.

Theon could feel her trembling beneath him, teetering on the edge of release. He quickly sat up, kissing her like a starved man, before pushing himself into her.

The selkie's eyes flashed with a mixture of pleasure and frustration as Theon entered her. In one fluid motion, she hooked her leg around his waist and flipped him onto his back, pinning him beneath her with surprising strength.

"Tsk, tsk," she chided, her voice a low, dangerous purr. "So eager, my iron prince. Did you forget that the sea demands patience?"

Theon gasped, overwhelmed by the sensation of being sheathed within her. Her inner walls pulsed around him, cool and slick like the embrace of the tide. He tried to thrust upward, seeking more friction, but the selkie held him firmly in place.

"I... I'm sorry," he managed to stammer, his hands instinctively moving to her hips.

The selkie caught his wrists, pinning them above his head with surprising strength. "Oh, you will be," she whispered, a wicked gleam in her eye. "The sea is patient, Theon of the Iron Islands. And so am I."

Slowly, agonizingly slowly, she began to move. Her hips rolled in a hypnotic rhythm, rising and falling like the swell of waves. Theon groaned, his hands grasping at her hips, trying to urge her to move faster. But the selkie was unyielding, setting her own pace.

She rode him with the patience of the eternal sea, each movement precise and deliberate. Her skin gleamed with a faint, otherworldly luminescence in the dim light, like moonlight on water. Theon watched, mesmerized, as droplets of moisture beaded on her skin, rolling down her body like rivulets of seawater. He longed to taste them, to run his tongue along the curves of her body, but she kept him pinned beneath her, at her mercy.

"Please," Theon gasped, his voice hoarse with need. "I need... I need..."

The selkie smiled, a predatory gleam in her eyes. "What do you need, my iron prince? Tell me."

"More," he groaned. "Faster. I need to feel you."

She leaned down, her lips brushing against his ear. "The sea gives and takes as she pleases," she whispered. "And tonight, I am the sea."

With those words, she began to move faster, her hips undulating in a rhythm that matched the crashing waves outside. Theon moaned, lost in the sensation of her around him, the cool silk of her skin against his, the intoxicating scent of salt and sex that filled the air.

The selkie's movements grew more frenzied, her breath coming in short gasps. She released Theon's wrists, bracing herself against his chest as she rode him. Freed from her grip, Theon's hands roamed her body, caressing her breasts, her hips, her thighs.

"Yes," she hissed, her head thrown back in ecstasy. "Touch me, Theon."

Theon's hands roamed the selkie's body feverishly, tracing the curves and dips of her otherworldly form. Her skin seemed to ripple beneath his touch, as if tiny waves were coursing just beneath the surface. He could feel the power of the sea thrumming through her, wild and untamed.

The selkie's movements grew more frenzied, her hips rolling and crashing against his like storm-tossed waves. Theon felt himself being pulled under, drowning in sensation. His entire world narrowed to the feel of her around him, the salt-sweet taste of her skin, the sound of her gasps and moans mingling with the distant roar of the sea.

He was close, so close. The pressure built within him like a tide ready to break. His fingers dug into her hips, pulling her down harder onto him. The selkie's inner walls clenched around him, pulsing with a rhythm that seemed to match the beating of his heart.

"Oh gods," Theon groaned, his back arching off the bed. "I'm going to-"

Suddenly, the selkie stilled. In one fluid motion, she lifted herself off him, leaving Theon gasping and desperate. He reached for her, but she evaded his grasp with a teasing smile, instead laying down on her stomach with a wicked little smile.

"Now you know what it feels like," she purred, her voice low and husky. "I am not done and neither are you."

Theon groaned in frustration, his body aching with unfulfilled desire. The selkie's eyes glimmered with mischief as she looked back at him over her shoulder, her hair cascading down her back like dark seaweed.

"Come, my iron prince," she cooed, arching her back invitingly, wiggling her full buttocks. "Show me the strength of the storm."

Theon didn't need to be told twice. He moved behind her, his hands caressing the smooth curve of her hips. The selkie sighed contentedly as he positioned himself, teasing her entrance with the tip of his manhood.

"Don't make me wait," she breathed, pushing back against him.

With a low growl, Theon thrust into her, burying himself to the hilt. The selkie cried out in pleasure, her fingers gripping the furs beneath them. Theon set a punishing pace, driven by his earlier denied release and the intoxicating power of the creature beneath him.

The sound of flesh meeting flesh mingled with their gasps and moans, creating a primal rhythm that seemed to echo the crashing waves outside. Theon's hands roamed her body, caressing her breasts, her stomach, her thighs. Every touch sent sparks of pleasure through him, as if her very skin conducted the raw energy of the sea.

The selkie met him thrust for thrust, her body undulating like the tide. She turned her head, capturing his lips in a fierce kiss. Theon kissed her back hungrily, tasting salt and desire on her lips. His hands tangled in her hair, pulling her closer as he continued to drive into her. The selkie moaned into his mouth, her body trembling beneath him.

Breaking the kiss, she gasped, "Yes, Theon. Just like that. Be good for me, please… give me… just like…."

Her words ignited something primal within him. Theon's thrusts became more forceful, more desperate. He could feel the pressure building again, a tidal wave of pleasure threatening to overwhelm him.

The selkie's inner walls clenched around him, her body shuddering with each thrust. She buried her face in the furs, muffling her cries of ecstasy. Theon could feel her climax approaching, her muscles tensing beneath his hands.

"Look at me," he growled, surprising himself with the command in his voice. "I want to see your face when you come undone."

The selkie turned her head, her eyes meeting his. In that moment, Theon saw the vastness of the sea in her gaze - deep, mysterious, and utterly wild. It was terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

With a final, powerful thrust, Theon felt himself tipping over the edge. The selkie cried out, her body arching beneath him as her own release crashed over her. Theon groaned, burying himself deep inside her as wave after wave of pleasure washed over him. It felt like he was being pulled into the depths of the sea itself, drowning in ecstasy.

As the intensity of their shared climax began to ebb, Theon collapsed onto the selkie's back, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He could feel her heart racing beneath him, her skin cool and slightly damp against his chest. For a long moment, they lay there, intertwined and breathless.

Slowly, carefully, Theon rolled off her, falling onto his back beside her on the narrow bed. The selkie turned to face him, her eyes now soft and warm like the sea on a calm summer day. She reached out, tracing the line of his jaw with gentle fingers.

"You have pleased me well, my iron prince," she murmured, her voice rich with satisfaction. "The sea will remember you fondly."

Theon chuckled weakly, still trying to catch his breath. "I don't think I'll ever forget this night," he said, turning his head to meet her gaze. "Or you."

The selkie smiled, a hint of sadness in her eyes. "Perhaps," she said softly. "But the memories of men are often as fleeting as seafoam on the shore."

She leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips before rising from the bed. Theon watched, mesmerized, as she moved about the small hut, her body glowing faintly in the dim light. She retrieved her cloak, fastening it around her shoulders, and gave him a sad, sorrowful little smile. “Go back to the bears now, my kraken. I’m sure you are missed.”

“But… can you not just… stay here? For a while at least?”, Theon asked, quickly gathering up his own clothing. Normally he would’ve left just as quickly as she was about to, yet she was no Ros, no Wintertown whore.

The selkie paused, her hand on the door. She turned back to Theon, her eyes softening with a mixture of fondness and regret.

"Oh, my sweet iron prince," she said softly. "Your words warm my heart, but I cannot stay. The sea calls to me, as it always has and always will."

Theon felt a pang in his chest, a longing he couldn't quite name. He stood, still naked, and took a step towards her. "Then let me come with you," he said impulsively. "Just for a while. I... I miss the sea."

The selkie's smile was sad and knowing. She reached out, cupping his cheek in her cool hand. "You are not ready for my world, Theon of the Iron Islands. Your path lies elsewhere, at least for now."

She leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. Theon could taste the salt of the sea on her breath, feel the pull of the tide in her touch. When she pulled away, her eyes seemed to shimmer with unshed tears.

"But know this," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the crashing waves outside. "The sea never forgets her children. When the time comes, if you truly wish it, you may find your way back to us."

With those words, she slipped out the door and into the night. Theon rushed after her, but as he stepped outside, he saw only the empty beach and the vast, freezing waters, the selkie’s figure retreating into the waves.

Theon stood on the shore, the cool night air raising goosebumps on his bare skin. He watched the waves crash against the rocky beach, searching for any sign of the mysterious selkie, but she had vanished as completely as if she had never existed. The only evidence of their encounter was the lingering taste of salt on his lips and the slight ache in his muscles.

With a heavy sigh, Theon turned back to the small hut. The interior still smelled of sea and sex, and for a moment, he wondered if he had dreamed the entire encounter. But no, his clothes were strewn about the floor, and he could still feel the ghost of her touch on his skin.

Slowly, he began to dress himself. His fingers fumbled with the laces of his breeches, his mind still clouded with the intoxicating memory of the selkie. As he pulled on his tunic, he noticed it smelled faintly of seaweed and brine. He wondered idly if Lord Stark would notice, then dismissed the thought. The old wolf rarely paid him much attention anyway.

Theon retrieved his cloak from where it had fallen, shaking out the sand before fastening it around his shoulders. He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to tame the wild locks that the selkie had so eagerly mussed. As he did so, he felt something caught in the strands – a single, iridescent scale that gleamed in the dim light. He stared at it and reverently tucked it into his satchel.

Stepping out of the hut, Theon took one last look at the sea. The moon hung low on the horizon, its reflection shimmering on the dark waters. For a moment, he thought he saw a seal's head bobbing in the waves, watching him with knowing eyes. But when he blinked, it was gone. The sea had claimed him, he thought, and he would honour it.

[smut-anarchy]

Own Me - Chapter Two

Tags: Dom!Mattheo, Gryffandor!Reader, Cursing, Blackmail, Suggested Trauma & Death, Violence, Blood, M**blood Slurs

Rewritten as of: 12/26/2024

Word Count: 1,917 Words

Chapter Two: Worth It

“Merlin’s Robes, you look dreadful.” 

Under normal circumstances you found Luna’s way of talking to be charming, her refusal to mince words was always admirable and amusing. 

However, after a solid week of traipsing after Mattheo all around the castle and doing a majority of his classwork and homework while also struggling with your own, you were exhausted and mentally drained. You could hardly sleep, your dreams plagued by an amalgamation of anxiety-induced fears and Mattheo related nonsense, and when you were awake you’d hardly felt comfortable enough to do anything, concerned that he would call you in the middle of something and you’d have to book it to some godforsaken part of the castle. 

He’d already interrupted three showers, and you had the burns on your neck to prove he was truthful about the choker heating up the longer you’d took to get to him. You’d cleverly told Madam Pomfrey you’d taken up baking so the watchful healer was all too happy to give you a large amount of burn-healing paste, blissfully unaware of the true reason you needed such a cure.

So when you met Luna for your usual weekend exploration of the Forbidden Forest you knew you’d looked worse for wear. A small part of you thought to cancel on Luna this one time but you couldn’t find it in yourself to do such a thing. This had been a tradition with her ever since you became friends in first year, both of you bonding over the love of magical creatures. While Luna always seemed insistent she’d finally find the Nargles every single weekend, you’d simply been happy to enjoy the peaceful time in the forest, documenting and sketching any magical creatures in your personal journal. 

You’d offered Luna a withering smile, “I’m fine, Luna.”

She sent you a curious look but said nothing, walking towards the path their many days of exploring had created in the forest. Truthfully, you were glad for Luna’s acceptance of your disingenuous answer. Knowing that you couldn’t confide in her like you wished to meant you could only take solace in the serenity of nature for now. 

Your feet fell into step with Luna’s, both of your subconscious memories carrying you through the forest with ease. In moments like these you felt so comforted by Luna’s presence, she too often was mistaken as crazy with her unconventional ways but at her core she was such a soothing and kind soul. Though it made you feel immensely guilty for withholding the Mattheo situation from her, you’d felt more relaxed just walking along with her quietly.

“I think the Nargles would like Whispering Pond today. Maybe they’d like a swim before the cold sets in.” Luna suggested, you nodded at her, striding with her in the direction of the pond. 

You and Luna had discovered the small body of water in your third year, and it was easily one of the best discoveries of your school life. Though it was relatively close to Hogwarts it was hidden away, blocked by dense trees and berry bushes, when the wind swept through the towering trees Luna swore it was whispering secrets. The only creatures that seemed to frequent the pond were Nifflers, Jobberknolls and Glow Bugs, who usually recognized you and Luna after all these years, happy to receive food and pets occasionally. 

At the pond you preferred to sit on some stones, letting the cool October breeze wash over you. Luna occupied herself with looking around rocks closest to the pond, checking for lounging Nargles.  You had closed your eyes, breathing deeply to let go of everything that buried you this week. 

“The girls in my house are jealous. They say you and Mattheo Riddle have gotten quite close.”

Godric’s sword, I am going to drown myself.

You opened your eyes, Luna looking at you inquisitively. You should have expected this, word at Hogwarts traveling fast, and your fellow classmates were bound to notice you were suddenly always next to the Slytherin bad boy in and outside of class. Luna and you only shared the Care of Magical Creatures class, which thankfully Mattheo was not in, giving you a small reprieve and the ability to hide your newfound torturous relationship with Mattheo. In the last week you’d definitely caught some questioning looks and envious glares, but you’d brushed it off, much more concerned with Mattheo’s hold on your entire life than the petty feelings of strangers. 

“We are not close,” you snorted, “He’s an egotistical brute.” The truth burned on your tongue, longing to share everything with Luna, but with Mattheo’s cruel control literally wrapped around your neck meant there was no telling what he’d do to you or Luna if you let it slip.

“Is he perhaps why you are so tired?” Luna’s voice held a subtle teasing tone, “Perhaps he’s occupying too much of your night time hours.” 

“Luna! Absolutely not!” You blushed, face heating up as you sputtered firm denial. Such an accusation made you want to retch, the current reality was already horrifying, imagining anything further would likely send you into an early grave.

“Well I can hardly fault you if you did, he is quite handsome,” Luna jested, “Though I always figured Harry would be more your type.” 

“Harry? As in Harry Potter? Luna, have you been stung by a Swooping Evil? Do I need to take you to the infirmary?” You were floored, of all the things Luna could suggest, implying either of the boys would be suitable for you was just beyond impossible. 

“What’s wrong with Harry? He’s my friend you know!” Luna pushed. 

Nothing was wrong with Harry, he was handsome and sweet, though you’d hardly ever said much to him, he was too often getting into trouble with Hermione and Ron for you to build any kind of friendship with him. Even so, he attracted far too much attention to be an appropriate fit for you, you’d much preferred to stay away from the flashy kind of scrutiny Harry seemed to draw everywhere he went. 

As for Mattheo, well you would concede with Luna that he was, tragically, unfairly attractive. Though that hardly made up for his bad attitude and egotistical nature. He also attracted an uncomfortable amount of attention to you, though where Harry’s attention was not accumulated wholly by his fault, Mattheo’s was, the Slytherin seeming to thrive off of the endless rumors and gossip. Between his family, his inclination for fighting and the relentless list of lovers he gathered there wasn’t a soul who wasn’t aware of Mattheo Riddle.  

“Nothing! They’re both just… too much.” You asserted.

Luna looked at you, as her best friend you could see the hidden knowledge lingering behind her eyes. “That’s too bad, Harry thinks you’re cute.”

Now your face was flaming, in all the time you’d been at Hogwarts you thought yourself to be somewhat invisible. You shared your year with other Gryffindors like Harry, Hermione or Neville, or even Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas, who people were aware of for one reason or another, you didn’t think yourself remarkable enough to be noticed. 

Then you’d felt it, a feeling now etched into your memory from the last week, a light warming sensation around your throat. You could feel your body stiffen, your mind already urging you to start running. 

Black Lake.

You praised the founders silently in your head, if you ran you could get to the Black Lake in four minutes.

“Luna, I’m sorry, I have to go. I-I just remembered I needed to do something.” You rushed out.

Luna’s face turned to worry, with a hint of guilt. “Have I made you uncomfortable?”

“No! Of course not! I just have to go, I’ll see you at dinner though, I promise. Let me know if you find the Nargles!”

Luna nodded at you, casting you one of her knowing smiles and turned back to the rocks, looking under each stone in hopes of finding the mythical creature. 

As soon as you were out of Luna’s eye line, safely behind the cover of various bushes and looming trees you burst into a sprint. The necklace was not burning yet, but slowly becoming uncomfortably hot. You pushed yourself even harder, jumping over sticks and plants, eager to dull the fevered feeling around your neck. 

Breaking past the forests’ tree line you quickly scanned for Mattheo, immediately spotting him lazing against a tree near the lake with the rest of the Slytherin boys. 

Your lungs were burning and your legs trembled, still weak and sore from all the running you’ve done during the week. Still, the choker was now causing a searing pain against your skin, you needed to get over there now. 

Mattheo noticed you hurriedly coming towards him, a cruel smirk spreading on his face as he leaned against the trunk. The rest of the gang stopped to notice your approach as well, their eyes of spectacle filling your stomach with embarrassment. 

As you’d slowed your run you’d tripped on a tree root sticking out of the ground, sending you tumbling down at Mattheo’s feet. All five boys bursting into laughter watching your clumsiness, causing more embarrassment to flood you. 

“Wow mate, you’d already got her falling at your feet!” Enzo cackled.

Mattheo’s face was all too pleased, his friends feeding his hubris with their laughter. 

“I know, and it only took a week. My pet is so obedient.” 

You were on your knees, still trying to catch your breath from running. Angrily glaring at Mattheo, trying to hold back your temper at the demeaning compliment.

“You called for me,” you huffed, “Sir.”

Though you’d begrudgingly used the title all week, it had not worn out its novelty to the boys or Mattheo. More laughter ensued and Mattheo’s self-satisfied smile widened, his puffed up ego practically suffocating you. 

“Yes my dear,” He drawled sarcastically, “I’d like to rest my head on something soft. I think those thighs of yours will suit nicely.” By the look of his face this was meant to be a trap, obviously he was bored and had nothing better to do than torture the poor Gryffindor he’d blackmailed into being his servant.

Internally, you’d wanted to cry in frustration, he’d made you run all the way out here to be a fucking pillow for his stupid head. You’d wanted to argue, to tell him to go fuck himself, tell him that if he wanted a pillow so damn bad he could go to his fucking bedroom, which was ridiculously close because he lived at the bottom of the castle like the evil reptile he was. Alas, such a display might attract the wrong kind of attention, so you sighed and shrugged off your chunky sweater.

Not willing to sit on the bare ground, you’d folded your cardigan, placing it on an empty spot closest to Mattheo before sliding over and sitting down. You tucked your skirt between your legs, not willing to let Mattheo get a peek up your skirt if he turned his head, and then stretched your legs out. Mattheo laid his head on your thighs, satisfied smile not leaving his face. 

“Did you come from the Forbidden Forest?” Theo broke the silence. 

You’d looked at him suspiciously, not expecting to be talked to by the boys who considered you Mattheo’s plaything. “Yes.” 

“What were you doing there?” Blaise asked, eyes displaying mild interest.

“Luna and I look for magical creatures together, every weekend.” You’d answered curtly, not wanting to give much more information. Even though Hagrid knew of you and Luna’s exploring and encouraged you both to be safe, it was still technically off limits to students.

“Seriously? Like what?” Enzo joined in, the three boys looking expectantly at you, curiosity on their faces, unlike Draco who sneered from above on a tree branch, preferring to read his book and ignore your presence. Mattheo, whose head was in your lap, had his eyes closed, uncaring. 

He looks like an angel like this.

As quickly as it came you shook that thought out of your head.

“Not much today since someone interrupted me,” Mattheo’s lips twitched into a smirk at the subtle dig, “But we’ve seen all kinds of creatures in there. Nifflers, Bowtruckles, Doxies, Dugbogs, a Porlock a couple times, we’ve seen Augurey nests but never the Augurey, a couple of Thestrals here and there and a Unicorn two times.” You chattered off a list, each mention inviting a core memory to the front of your mind. 

While talking you realized you were absentmindedly combing your fingers through Mattheo’s hair, but he made no move to correct the behavior. You allowed yourself to keep going, rationalizing that if you’d stopped Mattheo would join in the conversation to annoy you. After all, a relaxed Mattheo was more beneficial to you.

The three formerly curious boys stared at you, a mix of caution and fascination on their faces.

“You can see Thestrals?” Blaise hesitated. 

Fuck. 

You tried not to tense, not wanting to show any vulnerability in front of the boys. You should have held back, too lost in your interest of magical creatures to remember what revealing that information meant. You could feel Mattheo’s eyes on you, the impenetrable stare sending a cold sweat down your spine, you willed yourself not to look at him.

“Um… yeah. But it’s not like, bad or sad or anything. It’s… just what it is.” You choked out. You could feel your face flushing from embarrassment, you did not want to talk about this at all. 

“I’ve seen ‘em in books. They look fucking terrifying!” Enzo joked, grateful for the change in tone you smiled lightly at him. 

“Honestly, I’ll take them any day over an Acromantula. There’s a whole huge nest in there.” You joked back. This seemed to break the mood into something more lighthearted, Blaise’s eyes popping wide. 

“An Acromantula nest? As in there is more than one of those in there?” 

You laughed at his astonishment, “Yes! Luna showed me! Harry showed it to her after he’d been in there!” 

“It’s not enough for you to be hanging around with Loony Lovegood, you hang around Potter too?” Draco snarled, his full attention now on you. 

Your fingers had slightly tightened in Mattheo’s hair when Blaise had asked if you could see Thestrals, your body automatically tensing from the uncomfortable query. But now you were clenching his hair so tight he let out a low groan, the sound zapping nerves in your gut. You mumbled a soft ’sorry’ before turning your furious attention completely on Draco. 

“I don’t hang around Harry, he’s friends with Luna, not that it’s any of your business Draco,” You seethed. You could feel the lion inside of you foaming at the mouth, encouraging you to hex Malfoy in protection of your best friend. You tried to swallow your wrath, assuming Mattheo wouldn’t take too kindly to any action against one of his friends. 

“Well, hardly surprising that Loony is friends with a blood traitor and a mudblood.” Your entire body felt like it was dipped in lava, your head ignited with the urge to rip the blonde apart with your bear hands. Mattheo’s mocking and bestowing you with a fucking torturous collar felt small in compassion to how you were feeling now, the seething heat of venom in your mouth threatening rupture.

“Come down here and say that Malfoy.”

Draco dropped down from the tree, squatting in front of you to get on your level, “I said, you’re a mudblood and your friend is a-“ Without any hesitation you brought your head back and, with as much force as you could muster, slammed your forehead into Draco’s nose. A sickening crunch was heard, followed by spewing blood from Draco’s nose as he fell backward. 

“Did you just head butt me?!” Draco cried, hand going up to his face in an effort to stop the blood. 

“Fuck yeah I did. Say what you want about me, I don’t give a shit, I’ve heard worse. But you won’t talk about my best friend that way.” You snarled. The instant pain and headache that rocked you after was well worth it, watching streams of blood gush from the young Malfoy’s nose.

“Mattheo, do something about your little pet!” Draco demanded, his voice nasal from holding his broken, bleeding nose.

“Oh, I will. But she’s mine to mess with Draco, let this be the first and last lesson not to do it again.” Mattheo shrugged. 

“Come on man, let’s get you to Madam Pomfrey” Blaise sighed, pulling a frustrated, sputtering Draco away from the group. Blaise respectfully nodded at you, before walking away with a whining Draco. 

You sighed, looking down at Mattheo, “Okay, how much trouble am I in for that?” You’d hoped to get it over with as soon as possible. 

“Oh, a lot. You can’t just go around head butting my friends, Kitten.” Mattheo laughed. 

Your eyes rolled at him and your shoulders slumped a bit but you didn’t seem too down. “Worth it.”

“Okay, her, I like.” Theo announced, his voice a pleasing mixture of shock and amusement over what he’d just witnessed. You took this as high praise from the Italian Slytherin, he was typically known to disregard mostly everyone.

“I’ll say! That was a sight to see.” Enzo joked, “I can’t believe you head butted him. I bet you he’s in the infirmary right now doing the ‘my father will hear about this!’ thing.” Enzo, Theo and Mattheo laughed, completely agreeing that Draco would very well be bitching about this right now. 

When Theo and Enzo turned to their own conversation, you looked at Mattheo, whose eyes were already on you.

“So…” you whispered, “What’s the punishment?” 

“Oh Kitten,” Mattheo huffed, a wicked promise in his voice, “Just you wait and see.”

[albinokittens300]

!Spoilers Under The Cut!

A/N: SO...been a minute since I wrote fic but. Made sense since I have ideas floating around might as well write and share them. Please note not only am I rusty writing in general, this is my first attempt at these characters. Be gentle on me please XD. I do hope you all enjoy. Let me know what you think, and maybe I'll try and get another one out maybe before Act 2 drops this weekend. All this ended up being was a little drabble of a possible reunion between Ekko and Jinx because I need some Timebomb goodness. Isha making an appearance is a bonus! Fair warning I make some wild leaps about what goes on during Act 2, so beware this is based some of my speculation.

He lets it go on for a few turns into different allies before finally stopping.

Ekko knows his little shadow is nothing more than a child, judging by the sound of the sets on the stone and the occasional clang of metal being kicked or tripped on. He usually wouldn't be worried- but with no one chasing after and taking her back to where she belonged, he took it as the sign it was. To follow him so far means she is all alone. Having just gotten back across the bridge, helping an orphan wasn't something on the list of deep concerns. At least, not until it needed to be.

"As quiet as you are, I have to say it'd be easier to get around if you weren't hiding." He says softly. Light brown eyes peek around the corner, playing at being undercover without actually doing so. She is hard to make out in low and greeish light, but he manages. "You can come out. Not gonna hurt you. All safe, I promise."

His hair raises, though, when her gaze flicks back to where he can't see. By all appearances, she is getting permission. So the girl isn't alone. When she takes a few steps out, he tries to remain unsuspicious.

"Whose behind there?" He asks as he kneels while she approaches.

"Definitely not who you're expecting." A darker, familiar voice speaks.

Jinx hasn't even revealed herself before the instinct takes over, and Ekko grabs the little girl and puts her behind him.

Attempting to pull her away from the known danger sets off another problem, though- the little girl reacts as if she has been burned. Letting out a cry, she wiggles away from him quickly before running back and wrapping herself around Jinx. While she removes the hood of her cloak, revealing a far too proud smirk, another arm wraps around the kid's shoulder. His eyes quickly scan her other side. A few bombs are latched there, but no pistol or any of her bigger toys. It was not a situation he loved, but it was preferable to facing down a minigun.

When Ekko's eyes return to the child, he doesn't think someone so small has ever looked at him so frightened. Something screams this isn't right as he watches for a few seconds.

"Relax, this one, I'll admit, has a reason to be a bit jumpy." She says, directing the words at the girl. Then, leveling a look at him. "What was it Vi said you had to say when the two of ya caught up? About looking good for a dead person?"

"That makes three of us, then." He says back. "Wanna explain what is going on down here, seeing as you are my welcoming party."

"Ah, nothing much. War, revolution, infighting, and unifying! All of that. If you are looking for the Firelights, they aren't at the tree. Or what's left of it." She says with a wave of her hand and a shrug. The blood runs like ice at the words and he rounds on her.

"What did you-"

"Woah, woah, I didn't do anything. Those wackos from Noxus? They are the ones who tracked the tree. My only part was helping everyone out." She hisses back. When his face changes, so does hers—relaxing just the slightest bit. Helped them out? Months trapped away should mean nothing surprise him. But it does.

He sees her arms crossed, watching and almost waiting for him to decide how this will go. Deciding to match her lack of hostility, just this once, he looks around to the eerily empty and quiet lanes.

"Guess I got a lot to catch up on."

That brings a less taunting smirk to her face. "Just a bit."

[imagine-darksiders]

A little respite...

A short Death/Reader oneshot about birthday presents, mugs, and how a Horseman without a heart isn't necessarily heartless. Enjoy! <3 xxx

---

Birthdays, Death supposes, carry far greater significance when one only has a finite number of years in one’s lifespan.

If there’s anything he’s grateful for, it’s that modern humans seem to have tailored their annual celebrations to smaller, intimate gatherings, which, in his opinion, are far more tasteful than the ostentatious and plethoric affairs those pharaohs used to throw. If the Horseman thought he’d have to wade through a veritable ocean of humans just to get to your front door…. Well. He certainly wouldn’t have been best pleased, to say the least.

Nestled within the cup of his palm and safely hidden from prying eyes is a small, unassuming parcel. It doesn’t look like much, deliberately so. The tiny thing is wrapped in some old parchment he had to pilfer from Azrael’s study. It was the first and only thing he could think of after he belatedly recalled how humans like to peel away a layer of paper before they can lay eyes on whatever has been pre-emptively hidden within it.

You became quite prickly once after he pointed out the aimlessness of the custom.

‘Some traditions,’ he begrudgingly yielded after several hours of trying to see past your cold-shoulder, ‘are better left undisputed.’

Trudging along the newly rebuilt street in the direction of your home, Death makes every conceivable effort to avoid the stares and shocked gasps from the few humans who are still milling about in the golden light of the evening.

Even after the Resurrection and the frequent comings and goings of the Horsemen, angels, makers and even the occasional demon, Humanity still hasn’t grown accustomed to seeing the Grim Reaper skulking about on their planet.

In the corner of an eye, he sees a man haul a small girl into his arms and scurry to the opposite side of the street, and it takes everything in the Horseman not to sigh.

It isn’t long before he finds himself turning onto the short, gravel path leading up to your front door. His footfalls make no sound on the loose stones, and the parcel is starting to carry weight in his palm now.

Coming to a halt on the step, his eyes drift down to the faded mat by his boots that reads ‘Welcome.’

The Horseman scoffs, as he does every time he sees it. Sometimes you’re too hospitable for your own good.

Giving his shaggy head of hair a bemused shake, he reaches for the doorknob, only to pause.

Another custom best left undisputed… Humans don’t like it if you enter their home unannounced.

Curling his hand into a fist, he instead gives the wood three, solid raps with his knuckles before letting his arm drop back to his side, briefly giving a thought to what it must seem like for an onlooker to witness the ancient Nephilim ceding to human habits.

With a grunt, he leans back on his haunches to wait, idly counting the cracks that have formed in the plaster surrounding your doorframe, each one betraying the frequency of visits made by his younger sister, Fury. It’s a wonder the entrance is still intact with how often she barges in and out, scuffing the paint and chipping off wooden flakes with her armoured shoulders.

Sometimes she forgets that while she might have the slightest build of the Horseman, she’s still unconventionally large from the average human’s point of view. Regardless, you haven’t said a word to her about the marks, as far as Death is aware, and somehow, he doubts you ever will.

His ears prick towards the sound of shoes trotting hurriedly across linoleum, approaching your front door.

“Coming! Coming!” your voice calls out, instantly shaking loose that little fragment of unease that sits between Death’s ribs every time he comes to your home and waits outside the door. There’s a private part of him, a part he’ll never reveal, that dreads the day he knocks without receiving an answer.

The handle rattles, a lock slides out of place, and once again, he hears you speaking from the other side of the wood.

“You guys are early!” you laugh, “I haven’t changed yet, but I’m-“

Your sentence trails off into silence as the door is tugged open and you poke your head into the light outside, brows scrunching together as your eyes fall upon a pale, cadaverous chest.

Blinking, you dart a look up, only to gasp at the sight of an all too familiar bone-mask tilting down towards you, inclined in acknowledgement.

“Death?” you gape, your expression falling open in shock.

Another oddity of humans, he finds. Even when you can clearly see what’s right in front of your nose, you still feel the need to ask for clarification, as though you can never fully trust what your eyes are seeing.

“In the flesh,” he says, gesturing up and down at his emaciated waist and sinewy chest, “I’m pleased you still recognise me, given our months apart.”

And it has been months. Six and three days, to be exact. Not that he’s counting.

It happens the moment he drops his arm back to his side. Like the sun rising over the peak of a dark mountain, your face bursts open with bright, glimmering warmth.

The corners of your mouth retreat from each other, spreading your lips into a grin so wide that your cheeks round out and squeeze your eyes halfway shut with unbridled delight as a laugh gushes out of you, bouncy and awestricken.

“Death!” Without warning, you bound across the threshold and - showing no hint of a reservation - throw your arms around the Horseman’s lean torso, burying your face into the concave dip below his chest, “Oh my god! I didn’t think I’d be seeing you today!”

And because he still hasn’t grown used to your displays of affection, Death forgets the etiquette and freezes in place, arms hovering rigidly above your own and his chin tucked into his neck, as though he’s mildly alarmed at your sudden proximity.

And because you know he isn’t used to affection, you don’t hold him hostage for long.

Pulling away only seconds later, you sweep a hand through your hair, clutching loosely at the strands as you take a step back and give the Horseman a quick once-over, beaming all the while.

“I can’t believe you actually made it! This is the best birthday ever!”

Well, if that isn’t the most flattering thing he’s heard all year.

“Oh! Would you like to come in?” you ramble on, stepping aside and sweeping your hand into the hallway behind you, “I’ve got people arriving for a party, but not for, like, another hour. So, you can stick around or…”

“Ah, regrettably, I can’t linger for long,” he interrupts, holding up a palm to quiet you. He truly can’t stay. And not just because he’s disinclined to ‘party.’

He’s heard whisperings of a demon uprising stirring in a city across the sea. He and War have made plans to travel there under the cover of darkness to investigate, and he’s already behind schedule. He notices that you make a considerable effort not to let your expression droop, though he can tell by the pinch of your lips that you’re disappointed.

He… hopes he can make it up to you with the tiny package hidden safely within his palm.

Clearing his throat, Death flexes his fingers, wrestling with doubts for a moment before he gives himself a mental kick and forces his hand out from behind his back, thrusting the parcel under your nose.

“Here,” he grunts as he gives it a gentle shake, willing you to take the damn thing rather than continue to blink down at it in surprise, “I understand gifts are customary on one’s… birthday, hm?”

… For a long time, you don’t say a word. You merely look at the Horseman’s palm as though he’s holding a live grenade, your eyes round and wide and uncertain. In fact, you remain silent for so long, that for once, Death is the one who feels compelled to explain himself.

“I… wrapped it,” he ventures, frowning behind his mask at the parcel, “… Although, I suppose it isn’t very good, is it.” Now that he's presented it to you, he's only just noticing how shoddy and rushed the job must look. In fact, he realises he must have stolen parchment that Azrael was in the middle of writing on, judging by the ink smudges that are only half hidden beneath the thin twine he used to bundle the whole thing together.

Mind racing, he scans your expression for tells, anything that’ll clue him in as to whether he’s made a mistake in bringing you something at all…

Perhaps… he was misinformed. It might be a grave insult to give a human something on their day of birth. Damn that half-wit brother of his, Strife. If he’s fed Death another lie to make him look foolish in front of you, why, he’ll-

A soft touch alights upon his palm.

Death’s gaze snaps down to see your tiny fingers curling tentatively over the parchment, and it takes a lot of concentration to keep his appendages from twitching as you slide the parcel out of his palm, brushing your thumb over his in the process.

“You… got me a present?” you ask gently, staring down at it before flicking your eyes up to peer at the Horseman from beneath your lashes.

Slowly, he retrieves his arm, giving it a shrug and sniffing, “It’s nothing particularly special.”

But you’re already pulling at the twine's lacklustre knot, delicately peeling away crinkled parchment to reveal the gift inside.

When you finally unfold all of the paper, a soft sound of wonder escapes your parted lips, and your face is illuminated in a soft, green glow.

It’s a flask. A tiny flask no larger than your thumb, cut from thick, crystalline glass and stoppered at the top with a chunk of cork. The flask itself has had a silver chain welded to the neck that glints in the sunlight as you bring it closer to your face to peer inside. Clinking around behind the glass, you spot a piece of shard, green as a summer field, glowing prettily like a captured firefly, small and dainty but luminous enough to cast its light through its crystal prison.

“I’m sure Muria could have made you something prettier,” the Horseman mumbles, “I’m no maker. But, I always did have a knack for crafting these talismans… You wouldn’t believe how hard it was to convince Fury to carry one…

“…Death…” you breathe.

“Yours is modified, of course," he ploughs ahead, clearing his throat, "Now, it won’t keep you safe indefinitely.” There's a pause, and you think you hear him mutter ‘yet’ under his breath before he continues, “But it will serve as a shield, of sorts. If you’re ever injured-“ Reaching out, he taps his nail against the glass. “- This will bear the worst of the damage. So long as you wear it, your skin will be harder to break. Your bones will only splinter where they might have shattered. You will be, in a word, protected.”

You can’t reply for a moment, your throat is too clogged with things you don’t know how to say.

You know this talisman. You know it because you’ve seen the one Fury keeps tucked beneath the high neck of her cuirass. She insists that Strife and War carry them too, though the brothers have yet to relinquish that secret to you just yet.

Nephilim’s Respite. It’s a protective trinket made by the eldest Horseman to safeguard his brothers and sister on their travels.

Death made them for his siblings. His family.

And now, here you are, holding the self same talisman in your hand.

You try to maintain your composure. You really do try. But when you blink, you’re slightly dismayed to find your vision blurring and a warm dampness tickling your lower eyelashes.

“Ah,” Death utters, drawing his head back to regard your gathering tears, “You’re crying. That… wasn’t my intention.”

A watery laugh tumbles out of your mouth, and you raise your unoccupied hand to sweep a wrist across your eyelids. “It’s oka-“ you start to sniff, though the Horseman jumps in before you can finish the thought.

“If the gift isn’t to your liking,” he concedes, reaching out to take the talisman back, “I can always-“

“-No!” Clutching the gift defensively to your chest, you throw Death a scandalised look, tears trickling lazily towards your chin, “It’s perfect, it’s just – it’s so much, Death! My god, I got you a mug for Christmas!"

And a fine mug it is, he reflects. Bone china, a yellow warning label with 'Warning, prone to sarcasm' scrawled across its surface in thick, black lettering.

It's one of his most preciously guarded items. He almost fed War's remaining arm to Harvester when the younger Horseman knocked it off his table.

But... you're fretting, and his reminiscing of the the humorous crockery will have to wait.

"You... accept the gift, then?" he asks, halfway convinced your eyes are misted over because he'd committed a faux-pas he isn't aware of.

There are times when Death wonders if you must think him quite dense. Such as now, for example. Short of throwing your hands above your head, you positively erupt in exasperation as you exclaim, "Wh-! Of course I do! This is the kindest thing anyone's done for me in my life!"

"Kinder than saving said life?" he quips, "Repeatedly?"

You only shoot him a wide, watery grin in response. Tossing the parchment over your shoulder, you hurry to slip the silver chain around your neck, clutching the flask delicately in a palm and thumbing the glass with fond, gentle strokes.

"I'm never taking this off," you murmur around a beaming smile.

Grunting, the Horseman folds his arms across his chest and replies, "See that you don't. With how attractive you are to trouble and disaster, this is the most efficient way to ensure you are kept relatively safe when I... when one of us isn't around to keep an eye on you." Pausing, he quirks a thoughtful brow behind his mask and adds, "Well... I suppose I could always enlist Nathaniel to play human-sitter..."

Your bright, incredulous peal of laughter cuts him off, but before he can lament on how much different he is now for allowing himself to be interrupted by a human and feel no malice, you suddenly plant a hand on his chest, spreading warmth from the tips of your fingers straight through to the hollow cavity that used to house his heart.

Death's mask tips down, his golden eyes calm, but curious as they fold into yours, old and new, sharing a moment of vulnerability on the steps of your home.

"Thank you, Death," you tell him sincerely, but oh so softly, "I mean it. Thank you."

And then, as if the thanks alone isn't quite enough to break a chip off his unassailable walls, you rise onto the toes of your shoes, reaching a hand up to hook a finger beneath the chin of his mask and drawing his head down inch by inch. Death, taken wildly aback by the boldness of laying your hands on the Executioner's mask, forgets himself, and follows the tug of your will until-

A layer of solid bone may separate you from the Horseman's skin, yet he'd still swear he feels the tender press of a warm, guileless mouth against his own, just for a moment, then you withdraw almost as soon as you leaned in, releasing his chin and letting your arms flop back to your sides.

"Well," you say, voice a little pitched like you've caught yourself by surprise, "Again, um... Thank you..."

Slowly, Death draws back to his full height, resisting the sudden urge to press his fingertips to the space near the bottom of his mask.

"Don't suppose you've got time to come in for a cup of tea?" you blurt.

And if the Reaper's thin, pale lips twitch up at their corners unbidden... Well... There's a reason he decided to keep his mask, after all.

[captainsy-cookiemonster]

The Emperor's Mistress

Summary: Even an emperor has needs that have to be satisfied. 

Pairing: Emhyr Var Emreis (Netflix) x  Iphra (OFC; first person pov)

Warnings: SEX; MDNI!; kinda FwB, lust not love; power imbalance; ring kissing; blowjob, forced deepthroat; condescending; mock sympathy; m multiple orgasm; f orgasm denial; edging; if i missed anything, please let me know

A/N: A huge thank you to @wolvesandhoundshowltogether @thelastsock @the-soot-sprite @littlefreya and @luna-aestas for motivating me through this nearly 2 year process!!! Love you girls so much!!💗💗💗 Netflix Emhyr is a Dilf and he probably has some needs so… I'm not saying this is supposed to be canon, just something my horny brain came up with. Also yes I know he’s evil. But if evil, why sexy? Yeah totally thought of this bc in a class we learned how much influence king’s mistresses had at court. Totally selfindulgent. Fuck, I’m rusty…  Enjoy 😊

Word Count: 3k

Title: The Emperor’s Mistress

Writers live off validation. If you liked it please like, comment and reblog 💕 thank you for reading 💖

I hadn’t seen him around court all day. Not surprising, given the current situation, the preparations in full swing. Through a servant, he had let me know that he is not to be disturbed all day. It is my job, then, to dismiss all the courtiers asking to speak with him. I already knew then that he would come to me tonight.

The light of the setting sun is reflecting in the mirror atop the vanity of where I sit, making my jewellery cast little specks of light to the smooth stone walls of my room. Softest silk caresses my skin as I fix myself up. It could only be a matter of time now until he knocks.

Late this afternoon, the Emperor had then sent the much expected servant to inform me he would visit me tonight. I spent the last two hours getting ready for his Imperial Majesty, bathing in scented oils, dressing in a fine gown, all for his Majesty’s enjoyment. 

I made certain everything would be flawless for his arrival, I even sent for a servant to bring a pitcher of the Emperor’s favourite wine to my quarters. He has been… tense lately, overly stressed, though he does not tell me why. I only see him at night, requiring my presence more often than usual in order to relax. And even then it seemed as if his mind was somewhere far away. But what else was to be expected? He is commanding a war after all.

A knock - the knock -  on my door echoes through my room. The attendant’s way of letting me know his Imperial Majesty would be arriving soon. With a pounding heart, I stand by a table with the wine, ready to welcome Emhyr once he arrives. I wonder about his mood tonight. But I don’t have to wonder for long, as shortly after the attendant knocked, the door flies open. 

Emhyr marches in, and I drop into a deep curtsey.

“My lord.”

But he doesn’t answer. I hold out a goblet to him and he takes it, downing the wine in just a few gulps.

Bad mood.

“How are the preparations going, my lord?” I try to get at least some reaction from him. Anything but this tense silence. “I heard you will be departing in the morning?”

“Iphra,” he sighs, frustration clear in his voice. “This is nothing you should worry your pretty head about.” 

A pause. He holds out the goblet and I refill it. He drinks from it, then sets it down with another sigh. Once he looks back up at me, it’s like he’s a man changed

“Come here.” His voice is calm, cold and commanding. He holds out a hand and when I take it, he tugs me in, so that I almost stumble into him. He pushes my hair out the way and starts to mouthe at my neck, sucking, nipping me occasionally. His breath smells of the wine, his lips leaving a red stain on my skin. One of his hands is splayed out on the small of my back, pulling me in closer, while the other is tugging at the shoulder strap of my dress to free my chest to him. He leaves a trail of wet, open mouthed kisses down my breasts, all while slowly walking me backwards to the bed. 

My back meets the bedpost and I reach behind me to hold onto it, allowing Emhyr to devour my neck, untouched. He doesn’t like it when I hold onto him or even give the slightest indication of where to go. All of this is for his pleasure, not mine. Still, I moan and gasp softly each time his lips find a sweet spot, each time he sucks or nips on it.

Eventually, he pulls back, and takes a step back. He’s breathing heavily, pupils blown, lips kiss-swollen. It is an image of the White Flame only the fewest possess the privilege to see. Not the stern and regal ruler, not the rightful heir who killed the usurper, but a simple man looking for what we all seek: pleasure. 

And then I watch as he begins to unbuckle his belt.

“Allow me,” I purr, getting on my knees in one fluid motion. My hands come up to unbuckle his belt for him, as well as untying his trousers and his boots. Looking up, I see him unfastening his vest, shrugging it off and tossing it to a nearby divan, along with his tunic. I take off his boots, and slide his trousers down, setting them aside on the floor as I look up at him. Bared before me in all his imperial glory, I cannot help but reach to touch his thighs. But he tuts me. I let my hands fall into my lap and cast my eyes down. I know, my eagerness will have consequences.

“You know what to do,” he says, in that calm voice laden with authority, though there is mocking disappointment in it as well.

I only look up again once I feel his left hand outstretched and close to my face. Without question, I take it into both of mine, almost reverently, and touch my lips to the large signet ring, my eyes fluttering shut. It is warm beneath my lips, the gold warmed by his body heat. 

I release a shuddering breath when I pull back. My hands reach for his thighs and this time, he doesn't stop me when they come to rest at their sides. 

"See? You know your place." 

Still that slight mocking in his voice. His hand, the one I had just kissed, touches my chin softly, tilting it up, making me look at him. His fingers continue into my hair as I lean closer to him until my lips meet the tip of his length. 

"Open up, my dear." 

And I do. I open my mouth, just slightly, giving his tip a sloppy kiss and kissing down his length before I come up and take him into my mouth. I start to suckle, humming when he groans. I want to take him deeper, needing to hear him again, but he pulls me back by the hair.

“Patience,” he tuts, and I nod, with his cock in my mouth. I return to suckling him again, just taking the tip and bobbing my head a little, never taking more than half of him. His groans are music to my ears, a reminder why I do this. To please him.

Had I kept my eyes open, I would have seen his hungry look, that suddenly turned into a sinister smirk. But I haven’t. So it takes me by surprise when he yanks me forward by my hair, making me take all of him down my throat. Still, I suck at him devotedly, even if it was getting harder to breathe. My grip on his thighs tightens, nails digging into skin and muscle.

“Is this not what you wanted?” he sneers, holding me in place by my hair. My eyes fill with tears as I look up at him, gagging around his cock. “Did you not want all of me in that greedy mouth of yours?”

I nod, whining. There’s a flicker in his eyes. Something that could almost be interpreted as sympathy. Almost. 

“Is that too much for my little whore?” 

His other hand comes up to pat my cheek, wipe away my tears. But his eyes? Despite the softness of his brow, his eyes remain sinister. He’s mocking me, punishing me for my lack of patience earlier, maybe even for the behaviour of his advisors today. It’s hard to tell, but it is likely.

Finally, he lets go of my hair and I pull back, taking deep gulps of air, my chest heaving with every breath.

But I am leaning in again just as quickly, taking him down my throat while I look up at him.

“You really are a greedy whore, my dear,” Emhyr smirks down at me, tangling his fingers into my hair again, but lets me go at my pace this time. He groans again, and a warm feeling spreads in my belly. 

I hum around him, and feel him twitch on my tongue. 

"I want you to take it all, then. Every drop." 

His thighs tense beneath my fingertips, I know it won't be long now. So I double my efforts, bobbing my head, my tongue toying with his tip. With a groan, he finds his release, and pulls my head in by my hair, so I'm taking all of him, all the way down my throat. I swallow around him, drinking him in, everything he gives me. 

His heavy breaths are music to my ears as I keep licking at him, suckling softly until he's entirely spent. He tugs my head away from his cock by my hair, a hint of a sated smile on his lips. 

"Did I please you, my Lord?” I purr, gazing up at him through my lashes.

“Get up,” comes his response, voice softer now, now that some of his tension has been… relieved. 

I take his graciously offered hand to get on my feet. I should have known. With my hand in his, it is easy for him to push me back against the bedpost, his hands finding my hips, and his lips my chest.

His nimble fingers easily undo the fastening, a single knot, that held my dress together. The fabric pools around my feet, and he steps away, with a satisfied smile. Emhyr walks back over to the table with the wine and pours himself another glass, his eyes wandering over my naked body as he drinks, savouring — so it seems — both the view and the wine. 

After a moment, he must have finished about half of the glass, he starts to move again. But not towards me. I tilt my head slightly, watching him walk straight to the side of the bed. He sets the wine down at the bedside table and moves to lie down in the centre of the bed. Another moment of silence passes, I watch him stroke his cock lazily. 

"Come," he instructs. 

I don't need to be told twice. I push away from the bedpost and crawl up his body, coming to a halt once I'm straddling his hips. Wordless, I lean forward and pepper his chest with kisses, and further up, to his neck. Maybe I forget myself for a moment, but I only stop when I'm just about to kiss his lips, and he puts a finger on mine, just a breath apart. 

"No, Iphra," he whispers.

Right. No kissing. No love, just lust. 

I pull back. "Forgive me, your majesty," I mumble. 

He waves his hand dismissively, before it comes down on my ass with a sting that he soothes by kneading the cheek. My sign to continue. So I do. I get up on my knees and settle on his lap. Tossing my hair behind my back, before I take hold of his cock and stroke it a few times, before I lift my hips and sink down on his shaft. 

We both let out a groan as he fills me, letting out heavy breaths once he's seated in me so perfectly. With his hands on my hips, I begin to move, rocking, feeling the delicious friction he provides. 

“Oh, my lord,” I moan, my hands finding his wrist as I begin to pick up my pace, riding him harder. Looking down at him, I see him watching the spot where we  are joined, the base of his cock glistening with my juices every time I lift my hips. I let go of him, and let myself fall forward, my hands on either side of his ribs now as I double my efforts, a coil already building in my core. His hand moves from my hips up my spine, making me shiver and clench around him, breathy moans leaving my lips as I meet his eyes, his pupils lust-blown, his hair a mess. Beautiful and rare.

His hand finds my hair, gripping a fistful and pulling my head back. Nearly effortlessly, he sits up, pulling me further back as he shifts until I’m on his lap and he’s kneeling below me. I let out a quiet gasp. He’s always in control when we are together. But usually, he would give orders, not take action. It makes my head spin a bit. And then his lips find my neck again, leaving rough, open-mouthed kisses along my sensitive skin. I’m his, for all of the court to see. The mark of my privilege. 

In this new position, his thrusts are even deeper as he rolls his hips up into mine, pulling breathless whimpers from my lips. His groans are hot puffs of air against my neck. 

And then, suddenly, the room spins and I squeal, only to find myself on my back seconds later, feeling the soft bed beneath me. The pillow dips on either side of my head, his hands supporting his weight as he hovers above me. I look up at him, a little out of breath, to find that sexy, sinister smirk on his lips again. And then he starts to move. Deep, long thrusts, the kind he has learned I love. The kind that makes me shatter within minutes; when he grinds his base against my clit, his cock stroking every nerve perfectly. My moans rise in pitch.

“My lord… Emhyr… Oh.”

I am nearing the edge, the coil in my belly tightening. He keeps this pace, my arms wrapping around him, my nails leaving my very own mark on his back.

“Are you close, dear Iphra?” he asks, a bit out of breath himself, but there is something smug in his voice. I can only muster a nod in response, mewling as my walls flutter around him.

“And do you have my permission?”

No.

I gasp, and whine when he pulls back, changing to an even slower pace, his thrusts now shallow. I feel my high slipping away. There’s that smug grin on his face again. Weren’t I so frustrated… He’s a vision, slightly flushed from exhaustion, his hair falling into his face.

He alternates between slow and shallow thrusts, and hard and deep ones. Just enough to make the coil in my belly tighten, only to fade again. I don’t know how long he keeps that up. Sweat is beading on his handsome brow, and I am close to sobbing from this inconsistent, bordering cruel, stimulation.

“Aww, what is it, dear Iphra?” Though he is mocking sympathy, it is obvious in his voice that his restraint is slipping. He’s suffering from this denial just as much as I am. “If you want to come, all you need to do is ask.”

I let out a sob. All this time? I had assumed this was his punishment for trying to kiss his lips - maybe it is…

“Please,” I gasp, nearly unable to form coherent words. 

I can see in his eyes that he wants to say something more, tease me, but he does not. He doesn’t have any patience left for it, to keep up with this. Instead, he shifts to be kneeling more, strong hands lifting my thighs to sit against his sides.

“My lord…” I moan again, my mind unable to muster any other word.

My eyes roll back when he finally moves again, deep thrusts, long, and coming at a fast pace. His movements are so powerful, they make the large four poster bed creak quietly - not that it could be heard between my moans and Emhyr’s groans. The coil in my core is tightening again, growing and burning hotter with every of his thrusts. Not long now. My walls are fluttering around him, clenching, sucking his twitching cock deeper.

It’s all too much. It’s been too long. It’s… It’s… 

“Oh, Emhyr!” I cry out when I finally fall over the edge, my body trembling beneath him. It feels like I’m floating, my ears are ringing. 

He’s relentless, plowing me through my orgasm, desperate to reach his own peak. I can hear it in his groans, he’s close. I let my hands slide down his back, my nails leaving a light trail, and up his chest. I feel him shiver, his hips stutter, and then, with a throaty moan, he spills himself inside of me.

“Ha ha, you, my dear Iphra, you are… incredible,” he rasps between pants as he rides out his high with a few more thrusts, his spent leaking out of me and dripping onto the sheets.

“I aim to please,” I whisper into the quiet room, the silence only disturbed by our heavy breathing. 

Emhyr leans down to rest on his elbows for a moment, his sweaty body covering mine, letting me feel that delicious weight on top of my body. He tucks his face into my neck.

“You smell so sweet.”

It almost feels like he shakes his head, before he lifts himself up and pulls out of me. I whine softly at the loss of fullness, and settle on my side as he lies down, facing me. Both of us are silent for a long moment. It’s what he needs before  his departure in the morning. Blissed-out silence.

There is rarely any softness when we are done. Often, he just gets dressed and leaves. But now, we lie together, still sweaty and out of breath, looking at each other. I let my hand ghost over his chest in a gentle caress.

“Will you ever tell me how you got this scar?” My whisper breaks the silence as I softly touch the jagged scar stretching from his temple to his cheekbone.

I don’t receive an answer. He just smiles; that secretive smile of his, before he turns onto his back and stretches. Once he speaks, it’s like he forgot I ever even asked.

 “I should take you with me. It is a long way to Cintra. I surely could use your… services.”

[thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos]

Bayverse Tipsy HCs

I went to a fun lil bar with some friends tonight and as I was looking around, I couldn't help but wonder what kind of drinkers the guys would be...so here we are. Everyone is 25+ (drink responsibly)

mentions alcohol, obviously

-Raph is a lightweight. Like a few drinks, and he's laughing and goofing around with Mikey like he's 16 again, messing with his brothers and telling stories; like a weight comes off his shoulders and he can relax, a lopsided smile plastered on his face.

-Leo only drinks sake (for the aesthetic). Mikey makes fun if him relentlessly (he calls Leo a weeb, in sibling name-calling fun). Leo claims he likes the taste, but Mike has compared the spirit to sweaty socks on multiple occasions. Leo will roll his eyes as he sips from his cup, Mikey and Raph giving him endless shit- but no one misses the wince as he swallows.

-Mike is the party dude- always has been, always will be. When he's feelin' it, he's all smiles and laughter until everyone else goes to bed for the night; sometimes staying up even later to play videogames by himself, or to text a friend, so the fun doesn't end too soon. He's the party instigator, turning movie nights into drinking games, or card games into waterfall. The guy loves to have a good time- and to turn his brain off so he doesn't have to think for a while.

-Don is a wild card. He likes whiskey, scotch, or bourbon- but doesn't drink to get drunk, he just genuinely enjoys the taste (Mikey and Raph know better than to make fun of Donnie, cause of threats that will be followed through on). When he wants to party, though, he rolls a joint in the back of his lab and lights up a fat one; and the man is alllll giggles when he's stoned- just a happy high going on while he watches his brothers with amusement on his face, and a bag of pork rinds in his hand.

-Mikey knows that Donnie smokes, and the brothers occasionally sneak off together to a tunnel far away enough from the lair that mother hen (Leo) won't smell anything (Leo knows, he's not an idiot). Leo doesn't really care, he's mostly just annoyed that they feel like they need to hide it from him. Raph smoked with them a few times, but it just made him paranoid- so he just sticks to what works.

-Raph gets goofy when he's tipsy; sometimes singing along to the music Mikey puts on the stereo, sometimes dancing to it in the middle on the living room- but always having a good time. He would 100% put the lampshade on his head and dance around to Elvis if he felt like it (90s movies). Loveable drunk guy energy.

-Leo is the sad girl drunk- getting emotional for seemingly no reason, abruptly leaving the room, then coming back an hour later and demanding an apology when every one else has forgotten what in the hell he's talking about. He feels things so much deeper when his guards are down; much quicker to anger, quicker to cry. He also wants to talk about deep things when he's tipsy, much to Mikey's irritation.

-Mikey has jackass energy when he's trashed. Like, let's ride this shopping cart off this ramp and see how far it goes into the street. Or what will happen if we shoot fireworks off in the tunnels? Or let's go down to the Hudson and see if we can spar underwater. Raph is his ride or die when it comes to his drunken schemes, but Leo always manages to shut down their plans somehow (he's not afraid to tattletale).

-Mikey can drink all of them under the table though, even Splinter.

-The guys' favorite game to play is beer pong- Raph is the undisputed champion of singles, but Mikey and Leo have won doubles every tournament for two years in a row. Donnie and Raph together can't focus long enough for the competition; Raph getting distracted by the music, and Donnie laughing too hard at him to aim the ball.

-Once Donnie set a glass of six raw eggs in front of a hungover Mikey, sliding it to him and mumbling about a hangover cure as Raph recorded them on his phone from the hallway to the kitchen. Splinter walked in as Mikey spit the mixture everywhere, and they were cleaning up egg yolk from the walls for a week.

-When Leo does let go of the control and anxiety, he has so much fun goofing around with his brothers like they used to as kids. It warms his heart to see them all gathered around a table, playing games and spending time together, as adults. He loves them so much. No Mike, I'm just a little tired, that's why- yeah, don't worry about it.

tags : @thelaundrybitch @sophiacloud28 @zombiesnips-blog @4evrdreamin5 @gornackeaterofworlds @the-cauldron-witch @pheradream-15 @iridescentflamingo @scholastic-dragon

this was so fun lol :) as always, hit me up if you wanna join the tag train 18+

[mydearesthrry]

how would gf!reader react to seeing Harry’s ex at a function

ooooh. stirring the pot. i like it! made this fbh and new(ish!!!!) gf!reader cause hes hot and why not! enjoy :p also sorry anon this took so long lol love u

jealous-ish reader and some angst under the cut 💋💋

Walking into the party, her arm resting on the inside crook of Harry’s elbow, she took small steps next to him, trying to take up as little space as possible.

To signify the start of school, Harry’s frat had obviously thrown a party. This was one of the first times the couple had seen each other all day, Harry working with pledges and helping out with house prep prior to the party. He’d gone to her apartment just a few blocks from campus to pick her up, originally clad in a brown toned flannel, a white Rolling Stones graphic tee, and a pair of black ripped jeans. However, the flannel now draped across her shoulders since she’d met him in his car wearing nothing but a tiny black dress that exposed her arms and went down to her midthigh. And there was just no way he was letting his sweet girl get all cold. Not under his watch, anyway.

His skin was soft beneath hers, her fingertips now gripping onto the soft fabric of his sleeve, her palm on his inner elbow as her hand slipped farther and farther down. As if he could sense it, he moved his arm to let hers fall to her side, and moved behind her to rest a hand on the junction between her lower stomach and hip, scratching lightly at the silky material of her dress. Nudging her forward with a kiss to the back of her head, she kept walking, now leading her and her puppy dog of a boyfriend.

The night carried on, Harry occasionally greeting his brothers with a few shared expletives, Y/N being a supportive girlfriend and just leaning back into him whenever he paused to talk to someone, introducing herself to unfamiliar faces with Harry’s help. She could barely hear them because the music was so loud! Smiling apologetically whenever she asked them to repeat themselves, Harry took initiative to start introducing the unfamiliar person to his girlfriend, and vice versa.

There was eventually a small lull in the night, the two standing in the kitchen with an almost full red solo cup being shared between them, Y/N curled into his side as he ran his hand up and down her side. Her eyes scanned the crowd from their spot in the darkened room, eyes widening when she caught sight of a familiar face.

“Oh shit,” She said, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she leaned against Harry a bit more, looking up at him with a wide grin.

“Wha’?” He drawled, hand coming up to bring the cup to his lips.

“I see Anna,” She giggled, resting her head on his shoulder, small giggles turning into full chuckles when she felt the way he tensed.

“Oh, um,” He mumbled. “Yeah, she comes t’these parties pretty often.”

“Oh, really?” She smiled, pushing off of him to leave the kitchen.

“Oh, oh no, absolutely not. Do not think about it, puppy. I’m warning you.” He whined, pushing off the counter to follow her.

“I’m doing it, you can warn me all you want, but I’m not gonna listen!” She shouted, running after his ex girlfriend. She knew that the break up was mutual, and there were no hard feelings involved, but she thought it’d be fun to mess with her boyfriend a little.

“Jesus Christ. What’d I get myself into?” He whispered under his breath, following his girlfriend with annoyed steps.

“Hi! I’m Y/N! I’ve heard so much about you!” He heard his love squeal, and when he rounded the corner, he found his girlfriend and his ex both with excited gleams in their eyes, hands holding hands, compliments whirring in the air between them.

“Oh my god, hi! I’m Anna! You’re Harry’s girlfriend, right?” The blonde smiled, squeezing Y/N’s hands in her own.

“Yeah, I am!” Another shared grin.

“Hi, Anna.” Harry greeted, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips.

“Hi bug,” She smiled back, hands slipping from the grip they’d initially had on Y/N’s, now coming to the front of her stomach to fidget with her cuticles. “It’s been a while.”

“Yeah, it has. I see you’ve met Y/N,” He smiled, his arms stagnant by his sides.

“She’s an angel, H. Good job, really. I knew… I knew you’d find someone really great for you.” Anna said, placing a hand on his arm. Now, this might’ve been Y/N’s first real relationship, but she wasn’t dumb. She could sense the distaste that Anna withheld the second she went up to her, and she could see the hearts practically sown into her eyes, and the worst part about it? Harry seemed like he couldn’t give less of a fuck.

Matter of fact, he was eating this shit right up.

“Thanks, A. I um- I appreciate that.” And she thinks that was her breaking point.

She knew it was mostly her fault, but she really didn’t think she’d get jealous! She promises!

“Okay, um- I’m gonna let you two catch up, and I’m gonna go get a drink. Find me, H, will you?” Was all she said before she turned on her heel and beelined for the kitchen, trying to will away any tears before they could even think about arising. She felt herself flicker onto autopilot, making her normal cherry vodka with Sprite as if she was tracing the steps. Her mind was just swirling with doubt. Doubt if Harry was actually in love with her, or if she was just being delusional and wasn't picking up on any tells that he could've been making obvious. Seeing him with Anna- the way he was just so comfortable with her- made her want to sink into the floor with embarrassment.

"Hey, baby," His voice made her jump out of her thoughts, now completely in control of her body again. "Y'okay?"

"Mhm. Peachy," She squeaked, cursing her vocal chords for failing her so prematurely in the conversation. "Why?"

"'Cause ever since y'pretty little face left m'side, I've been watching y'and noticed that y'got that look on y'face." He says, grabbing her cup and placing it on the counter, boxing her in against the cool marble with both of his arms encasing her, hands flat against the corners.

Fuck. "What look?" She could play dumb, right? He wouldn't notice, she thinks.

“Don’t play dumb, baby. You know I know what face y’make when you’re jealous.” Fuck. Never mind.

“Umm, I don’t know what you’re talking about?” She questions, voice wavering as she began to give up her facade since she knew she’s been caught.

“Bunny,” He starts, pausing when she groans and drops her head to rest her forehead on his chest. “Why’d you even go over there? I knew you would get jealous the second me and her talked.”

“And you didn’t stop me?”

“Why would I? You wanted to so bad, I even tried telling you no. You don’t listen to me, bunny. I literally— dude, I literally warned you.” He sighed, shaking his head but placing small kisses onto the top of her head, burrowing his nose into her hair to inhale the scent of her coconut shampoo.

“I didn’t think it’d go that bad.” She says simply, hooking two of her fingers into the front left pocket of his skinny jeans.

“Well, that’s your fault- ow!” Harry groaned, releasing his girlfriend to rub the side of his thigh.

She’d smacked him. But, this was serious, and he was taking it too lightly!

“H, this isn’t funny! Now I look like the stupid girlfriend who’s jealous of my boyfriend’s ex! And I hate being jealous!”

Grabbing her shoulders, he pulls her back to peer down into her eyes, grabbing her chin when she avoided eye contact. “Hold on, woah. I, for one, love it when you get jealous. It— it makes me realize how much y’actually want me. I love the feeling, mama. It feels nice t’be wanted, y’know?”

She sighs. “Well, when you put it that way…”

“I don’t want anyone but you. You’re m’present and m’future. Couldn’t see m’self marrying Anna, but with you? God, bunny, I think about it like, four times a day. You’re my person, baby. I promise.” He starts choking up, making Y/N step forward to collide with his front, propping her chin onto his chest.

“I love you, probably more than I’ve loved anything or anyone.” She whispers, trying to keep the intimacy of the moment sacred in the semicrowded kitchen.

“Promise?” He asks, leaning down to place his forehead onto hers.

“I promise.”

[venny-the-chubbyblack-writer]

Title: Butterfly Mansion Madness

———

The Butterfly Mansion was usually a sanctuary of peace, where wounded Demon Slayers came to heal and recover. The soft rustle of the wind through the trees, the gentle hum of cicadas, and the occasional laughter of the girls who lived there created a soothing atmosphere. But today, that peace was interrupted by the sound of chaotic excitement.

Tanjiro had just finished his training and was on his way to check on Nezuko when he heard a familiar, frantic voice echoing through the courtyard. It was Zenitsu, and he sounded more animated than usual. Concerned, Tanjiro followed the noise until he reached the source.

What he saw stopped him in his tracks.

Zenitsu was in the middle of the courtyard, crouched beside a woman seated on a stone bench. His hands were all over her, fussing with her sleeves, her hair, and even her face in a way that was overly familiar. The woman seemed unbothered, even amused, but Tanjiro wasn’t about to let Zenitsu get away with it.

“Zenitsu!” Tanjiro called out, rushing over with a mix of confusion and exasperation. “What are you doing?!”

Zenitsu froze, his eyes wide with panic as if he’d been caught doing something forbidden. Before he could scramble to defend himself, the woman looked up at Tanjiro with a gentle smile.

“It’s okay, Tanjiro,” she said calmly. “I’m his wife.”

Tanjiro blinked in disbelief, his confusion deepening. “His…wife?”

Zenitsu, as if on cue, dropped to his knees and hugged the woman’s legs with exaggerated desperation. “Marry me!” he cried out, as though it were the first time he was asking. “Please, marry me!”

The reader chuckled softly, reaching down to pat Zenitsu’s head. “Zenitsu, we’re already married, remember?”

Zenitsu’s eyes lit up with a burst of joy. In an instant, he was back on his feet, lifting the reader into his arms as if she weighed nothing. “You came to see me!” he shouted, his voice filled with pure, unfiltered excitement. “You actually came all this way just to see me!”

Without warning, he threw the reader over his shoulder and took off running around the courtyard, his laughter echoing through the air. The girls of the Butterfly Mansion peered out from various doorways and windows, giggling at the spectacle.

“Zenitsu, wait!” Tanjiro shouted, snapping out of his shock as he sprinted after them. “Put her down! What are you doing?!”

But Zenitsu was too caught up in his happiness to listen. “She’s my wife! My beautiful, perfect wife!” he yelled, twirling around the courtyard with reckless abandon.

Despite the chaos, the reader was laughing, clearly entertained by Zenitsu’s antics. As she looked down at Tanjiro, who was desperately trying to keep up, her laughter only grew louder.

“Zenitsu, seriously!” Tanjiro puffed, trying to catch his breath as he chased them around yet another corner. “You’re going to get in trouble with Aoi!”

But Zenitsu wasn’t listening. “I don’t care! She’s my wife, and she came to see me!” he shouted back, his voice filled with uncontainable joy. “This is the best day of my life!”

Tanjiro could only sigh, his initial frustration melting into exasperated amusement. This was just Zenitsu being Zenitsu, after all. He might have been over the top, but there was no denying the sincerity of his feelings.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of running, Zenitsu slowed down, his breathing heavy but his grin as wide as ever. He gently set the reader back down on the ground, holding her hands as if she were the most precious treasure in the world.

“Thank you for coming to see me,” Zenitsu said softly, his voice filled with genuine emotion.

The reader smiled back at him, her eyes shining with warmth. “Of course, Zenitsu. I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

Tanjiro, still catching his breath, watched the two of them with a mixture of relief and understanding. It was chaotic, yes, but also incredibly sweet. Even in a place dedicated to healing and recovery, there was still room for moments of pure, unrestrained joy.

“Just…try not to cause too much trouble next time,” Tanjiro said, though his tone was more playful than scolding.

Zenitsu just laughed, pulling the reader into a gentle embrace as they walked back toward the mansion. Their laughter filled the air, a reminder that even amidst the challenges they faced, there was always a reason to smile.

As Tanjiro watched them go, a soft smile tugged at his lips. In a world filled with demons and danger, Zenitsu had found something truly special—something worth celebrating, even in the most chaotic of ways.

———

He’s so cuteeee

I have another one like This in my drafts for inosuke stay tuned!

[mypearlsareclutched]

I Don't Wanna Do This Anymore

High By The Beach | Chapter Four

Modern!Aegon II x Original Female Character, Modern!Aemond x Original Female Character

Sometimes it is easier to run away instead of facing your fears. But while Mila is ready to give up on herself, a certain Targaryen has no intention of letting her fall apart...

There is a potentially triggering scene in this chapter which depicts attempted sexual assault. Please do not read if this will affect you. If you want a run down of what happens in this chapter, message me and I'll let you know what happens x

Song inspiration | High By The Beach, Lana Del Rey

CW//TW: Attempted Sexual Assault (MDNI), drinking, clubbing, smoking, Jason Lannister being a scheve, angst, Mila-Stark-is-going-through-it.com, girls night out, shots, ANGSTT.

Word count | 3.4k

previous chapter // next chapter

Get out, get out, get out, get out, get out, get out, GET OUT!

The thought kept her going as she ran through the trees. Darting and zigzagging, jumping over bumpy roots and rocks. Her ancient trainers were rubbing against her feet, her lungs were aching for reprieve, her skin breaking out into a sweat, but she kept going, running as far and as fast as she could. The trees were merely green blurs, the darkness no obstacle as pure instinct spurred her on.

Maybe if I run far enough, I can outrun my memories. Aemond and Aegon and the drugs and the Targaryens and everything wil fade into a scar you never pay attention to, something you only catch in your peripheral vision, and only then you pay it no mind.

Gods her legs burned. They began to tremble as she slowed down, her knees wobbling and failing her. As she collapsed, her hands fell flat, prickly sticks and jagged stones stabbed her palms, sending red hot pain into her frenzied mind.

Falling to her side, Mila took deep breaths, her lungs heaving. The world around her was dark, cold, silent.

A horn could be heard distantly, and Mila's eyes searched through the thick forest for any sign of civilisation. Blinking lights swam in her vision, a distant road coming into view. She did not remember standing up, the gods themselves could have lifted her for all she knew, and she took weak steps in the direction of the road.

It was a fairly busy motorway, plenty of cars careening back and forth, bringing Mila back to reality. Over a nearby hill, the cityscape of Kings Landing loomed. Freedom, familiarity...

Escape.

Practically throwing herself out of the trees, she ran to the side of the road, waving her arms frantically in an effort to get some good samaritan to offer her a ride. Or a serial killer, either is preferable to staying here in this godsforsaken forest.

Cars honk furiously, multiple drivers shout complaints and insults at the strange girl standing halfway in the road. A blue ford slows, their hazard light turning on. Mila rushes to the passanger window, leaning over to see inside.

"Good grief, are you alright?!" A middle-aged woman stared at her through thick rimmed glasses, looking tired but concerned.

"I'm... so sorry... I need a lift." Mila said between gasping breaths, "My... uh, my boyfriend, he's after me..."

The woman gasps, "Oh you poor dear... please, get in!" The car clicks and Mila pulls open the door, as soon as she sits and is buckled in, the woman begins driving, asking a million questions that Mila barely has the mind to answer.

Kings Landing, a metropolis full of luxurious bars, expensive restaurants, cultural landmarks, and opportunities to fuck your life up. Royally.

After half an hour of sitting in a strangers car, answering the occasional question and waving off the driver's insistence at going to the police, the city hospital comes in to view. "Can you drop me off here?"

"Of course." The woman stops the car just outside the entrance, giving Mila a worried look, "Will you be alright from here?"

"Yeah, this is great." The Stark lets out a shaky breath, giving the woman a sincere look, "Thank you again."

"Don't worry about it. I hope... I hope things get better for you."

"...Me too." With that, Mila exits the vehicle, sending a small wave to the woman before she drives off. As the car disappears around the street corner, Mila heads down the road, heading towards Flea Bottom.

A familiar apartment complex come into view, deep grey and grungy looking. As almost building in Flea Bottom did. An old section of Kings Landing, it was not known to be glamorous. But Mila wasn't currently in the market for glamour. Walking up the steep stairs towards the main door, Mila pressed the buzzer to apartment 202D, hoping that the woman she was looking for still lived there.

"Hello?" An energetic voice calls out, thick with static from the ancient intercom.

"It's Mila." She responds simply.

"No way, get up here!" The door buzzes, and Mila wastes no time slipping through and climbing the dingy stairs to the apartment.

Alysanne Martell opens the door, auburn-tinted curls bouncing as she looks her friend up and down. She's dressed for dancing, orange dress form-fitting, golden jewellery jangling with her movements.

"Mila? Where've you been, girl?" Aly asks, grabbing Mila into a hug, "Haven't seen you since you got with Blondie McStickuphisass."

"Yeah, life's been... yeah." Mila shrugs, sniffing.

"Baela said you were out of the city, did you just get back?" The Dornish girl looks her up and down, eyebrows furrowing.

"Hitchhiked here."

Alysanne's eyes widen, her eyebrows raising as she stares at Mila, "Shit... are you okay?" She rests a hand on Mila's elbow, offering comfort that Mila has no need for right now.

"All good." She nods, "Where are you headed?"

"Um, Madame Sylvies? The slutty club on Silk Street, you know the one with the cages and male strippers?"

It was quite a famous nightclub. Many people ventured there for the severe atmosphere, a dangerousness was in the air. Something that made people feel alive.

"I know it." Mila nods, bouncing on her feet, "Care to bring a She-Wolf?"

"Are you kidding? I'd be honoured!" Alysanne chuckles, before looking down at her frumpy clothes with a grimace, "You're not going like that, though."

By the time Alysanne had dressed Mila up, they were joined by at least a dozen other girls. Floris Baratheon had been shocked to see Mila, but had given her a big hug... and a bigger tab of ecstasy. As it started to hit, Mila began to loosen up, her body submitting to the sensations quickly, settling into the haziness like it was a pair of well worn boots.

Shots were downed, spliffs were smoked, and meaningless conversations were had. Mila took a moment to look in the mirror before they left, blinking at the girl looking back.

Alysanne had found a deep grey dress in her wardrobe, the classic colours of the Stark siblings. It was tight and showed off her tits, barely covering any skin so Mila paired it with Aegon's coat. A small comfort. The outfit was completed with silver jewellery, and fur lined leather platform boots. "If the She-Wolf is joining us and free from the leash of the Targaryens, she's going to need to look the part.", Alysanne had said.

Mila could admit, she looked fucking hot. Her hair was wild around her head, her makeup glittery and just the right amount of smudged. She was looking very Mila Stark pre-aemond. Druggie, tipsy, scandalous party girl.

The other girls whistled as she excited the flat, hooting and hollering at the appearance of the illustrious She-Wolf.

"Howl for us, wolf girl!" Ally Blackwood called out. Mila grinned as she howled, and the girls erupted in their own meows and woofs, a pack of wasted animals.

The She-Wolf is fucking back.

Madame Sylvie's was packed. Hundreds of sweaty bodies mingled around the club, downing drinks and dancing with strangers. Mila was stood to one side, her fifth drink in her hand as she watched the crowd with bleary eyes. More and more acquaintances had appeared, and she had reintroduced herself to dozens of people, feeling her need for social interaction dwindelling.

Time to shake my ass.

Grabbing the first decent looking man she saw, Mila headed to the dancefloor. Heavy bass pounded, a fog machine spurted out heavy clouds that surrounding the air and swallowed people up. The man she grabbed held her close from behind, his hands loosely on her hips as she swayed to the generic music.

It was soulless, being here. The drinks she had consumed brought her no joy, the ecstasy and weed gave her no relief. The man she danced with was no-one, faceless to her. The music was too loud all of a sudden, and she detangled herself from the person's embrace, hobbling over to her friends again.

"Feeling alright, hot stuff?" Alysanne asks, giving her a concerned look, "Don't tell me you're a lightweight now?"

"Don't insult me." Mila hiccups, blinking blearily, "Do you want to do a line?" Aly's eye's widen, reaching out a hand to steady Mila.

"Um-"

"Floris!" Mila calls out, and Floris' head turns, strawberry blonde curls bouncing, "Line?"

"Hell yeah."

Before long, Mila is crammed in a tiny club bathroom, watching as Floris uses her father's credit card to make pretty lines of white on the edge of the sink. Her hands shake, but she presses them to her waist, gnawing at her lip as she practically drools waiting for her turn. The Baratheon makes quick work of two, smiling giddily as she bounces on the balls of her feet.

Taking the rolled up receipt from Floris' manicured fingers, she leans down and quickly snorts the line, allowing the quick flush of euphoria seep into her mind. Colours burst, her energy increases, but it's not enough.

As Floris giggles and begins dragging her back out the stall, Mina sighs, "Gods... I need more." kicking the bathroom door, she follows after Floris' jittery form.

Her friend gets swallowed by the crowd almost immediately, the neon lights dizzying and the ocean of people making her sway in place. Her hands remain shaking, her head reeling as she blinks in the low light.

A man looks over at her from the bar, his eyes travelling the length of her body. He's handsome enough. Brunette, dark eyes, stubble across his jaw. Different enough to the Targaryen men.

Sidling up to him, the man gives her a smirk, "Hello, gorgeous."

"Hey." Mila smirks, resting her hand on the man's shoulder. He smiles wolfishly, wrapping an arm around her waist to hold her to him.

"Get you a drink?"

"I'd really appreciate it." The stranger calls over the bartender, geting the pair of them shots of tequila that disappear as soon as they arrived. After a few more, Mila is practically draped across the man, letting him kiss down her neck as his hands wander down her back.

Someone familiar pops into view, and Mila's eyes widen as she meets the eyes of Jason Lannister. He smirks, walking over to her. She gently pulls the stranger off of her, giving him a smile, "One of my friends is over there, I'll be back in a second."

"Sure." He slurs, nodding as he reaches for his next shot.

By the time she abandons him, Jason is in her personal space, his beady eyes meeting hers. Mila practically jumps on him, clinging to him like a raft in the ocean. Because right now, this is not a person in front of her.

It's an opportunity to get high again, properly high. To make it all go away.

“Jason, I need a hit, please.” Mila begs, grasping onto the fabric of his jacket.

“Aw, sweetie, of course I can help you.” Jason leans forwards, pinching her chin between his thumb and forefinger, “But baby, you’re gonna have to work for it this time, okay?”

Mila nods, desperation in her veins as she leans into the Lannister's touch, paying no mind to his malicious smile. His hand wraps around her jaw possessively, white teeth gleaming as he nips at her cheekbone. Mila lets him drag her back through the crowd, having just enough sense to grab Aegon's coat from the cloak room before she is pulled by Jason out into the night.

"Come on, gorgeous, let's get you high." He murmurs into her ear as he pulls her along.

The bald doorman gives her a strange look as she is pulled into the dilapidated crack den Jason frequents. A week ago, she had been here getting her first hit since she was fifteen, and now she's back, but being pulled in past the rusty doorway into the dim light of the corridor.

It's near empty, a few vices can be heard from adjoining rooms. Jason says nothing as he pulls her along by her wrist. With bleary eyes, she looks back at the bald man, who watches them both with beady eyes until they disappear into a room.

Jason shuts the door behind them, smirking as Mila sways slightly.

"Why don't you sit down, sweetheart." He murmurs, grabbing hold of the lapels of her coat and tugging it off of her. Mila groans at the sudden disappearance of Aegon's comforting smell, hands feebly going to grab the coat back before her head swims and she stumbles back.

She's way drunker than she thought. And the weed, molly and coke has definitely affected her more than she realised at the club.

"Jason... I don't think I want to do this anymore." She says softly, confused as Jason continues to push her backwards. The backs of her knees collide with a leather couch, and she falls over on to it with a grunt. Jason simply chuckles, taking off his jacket and kneeling over her on the couch.

Panic grips her, and she becomes more alert as he looms over her, his hands dragging over her body.

"Stop..." Mila weakly says, trying to kick the Lannister away. He remains undeterred, laughing bitterly as he runs a hand through her messy hair.

"No, I don't think I will." He bites, "You remember the drill, sweetheart, I gave you that last hit for free, knowing you would come back. Have you forgotten how this works?" His hands drift down her ribcage, the weight of his fingers feeling slimy against her clothed body.

"I don't want to. Get the fuck off of me!" Mila shouts, pushing at his chest as he forces his weight fully on top of her.

"Lannister." The bald doorman walks in, freezing as he spots Jason sprawled on top of a struggling Mila. He averts his eyes, clearly uncomfortable, "Uh... some guy is here to talk to you."

"Tell him to fuck off, Jon, I'm busy!" Jason commands, returning his face to Mila's neck. She whines and tries pushing him off.

Jon looks at the pair, his face conflicted before he turns and leaves, the door clicking shut behind him, the finality of it sending further panic through Mila.

"If you keep struggling, this will be way worse for you." Jason grits out, grabbing her calves and wrangling them around his waist. Mila smacks his chest, clawing at his face until he backhands her, making her see stars.

"Stop!" Mila slurs, feeling him take her wrists into one of his hands, pressing his body impossibly close to her as he groans.

Mila looks away, staring at the blackened tiles of the storeroom, her body shuddering and tears falling down her cheeks as Jason's hands begin push her dress up. Distantly, a door slams open, banging against a wall.

"You fucking bastard!" Someone shouts.

Something breaks, heavy footsteps erupt around her and Jason begins making a spluttering, choking sound. His weight is tugged off of her as she tries to catch her breath. She blinks blearily, trying to see through her tears and her foggy mind. Her jaw drops as she takes in the scene across the room.

An arm is wrapped around Jason's neck, holding him in a chokehold as Jason goes red and struggles against his assailant. A flash of silvery hair can be seen, and Mila breathes a sigh of relief.

Aegon shoves Jason away, sending the man to his knees, coughing and retching.

Trying to sit up, Mila looks to the open doorway. Bald Jon stands in the doorway, looking out in the hallway as if nothing is happening.

"Fucking Aegon fucking Targaryen." Jason groans, his voice hoarse. Mila looks over at him, shivering and shuddering at his murderous, soulless eyes. "Should have known your junkie ass would get a little junkie girlfriend. Guess your brother decided to be done doing charity! You know as well as I do that you put a little dope in her veins and she'll let you do whatever you want to her-"

Aegon silences him with a kick to the nose, sending blood spurting out over his boot and Jason's face as the Lannister screams in pain, curling up into a protective ball. Turning to look at her, Aegon's eyes soften.

"Come on, Mila, let's go." Aegon murmurs, taking a tentative step towards her as to not frighten her.

She lets out a soft sound, allowing him to wrap his arms around her and pull her up, wrapping her in his arms. She holds onto him like a koala, burying her face into the comfort of his neck.

"I've got you, I've got you..." Aegon says, holding her with one arm as he grabs his coat with the other, his crocs squeaking on the tiled floor.

As they leave the room, Aegon nods to Jon. Over Aegon's shoulder, the bald man gives Mila a look.

"I've got a daughter about your age." He says softly, before clicking his teeth and storming back down the hallway, ignoring the sounds of Jason Lannisters pained groans.

It's raining when the pair of them exit the dilapidated building.

Thunder rolls ahead, as thick drops of rain pitter patter around them. Aegon lingers under the shelter of an overhead fire escape, shacking out his coat and wrapping it around Mila's shaking body, covering her head.

He jogs over to a car, a rickety looking thing the colour of the sea. He fumbles slightly as he unlocks it, opening the passanger door and gently sitting Mila down in it. He helps her put her arms through her coat, not before checking her forearms for fresh needle marks. When he finds none, he gives her temple a quick kiss, pulling the coat snug around her. The rain drenches him as he does this, put he pays no mind to it.

When he shuts her door, Mila sits in silence. She watches Aegon walk around the car, his white blonde hair sticking to his skull as he darts through the onslaught. The muffled noise of the rain and nearby traffic makes Mila's head spin, and she wraps her armsa round herself protectively.

"Gods, fuck, seven, shit..." Aegon mumbles as he practically dives into the driver's seat, shaking his head like a dog before he takes a shuddering breath, looking out the windshield.

He seems distant for a second, breathing heavily as his eyes dart around, like a frightened animal. He flinches, remembering Mila is next to him, and turns to her.

Slowly, he reaches a hand forwards, aware of her fragile state. She allows him to place his hand on her cheek, offering a small, soothing gesture as she shakes. A small sob escapes her, and Aegon quickly busies himself with turning the car on and truning on the flimsy heaters.

"Gonna take a while to get warm, this car is a heap of shit. Sorry, Mila." Aegon chuckles nervously.

Mila looks at him, her eyebrows creasing as she takes in his appearance. "Are... are you in your pyjamas?" She asks shakily, looking down at his joggers, sleeping gown and neon crocs.

"I may or may not have ran after you without putting much thought into my outfit, sue me." He murmurs, taking her hands in his and blowing on them to warm her up.

They sit in silence for a moment. Aegon focuses on warming her hands up, eyes distant as he rubs at her numb flesh, and Mila watches him with sad, scared eyes.

"I can't go back there." She sobs, her eyes glassy with unshed tears, "Please, Aegon, I can't go back."

Aegon's eyes rise to look at her, his face illuminated by the streetlights, shadows cast by raindrops freckle his pale skin. He nods, swallowing thickly as he turns his attention back to the street outside.

"Okay. Okay, we won't go back." He says softly, his thumb absentmindedly stroking over her knuckle. He ponders for a moment, gnawing on the inside of his cheek.

Then, his eyes light up, and a small smile appears on his pouty lips. He turns the car on, giving Mila a self-assured smile.

"I know where we can go."

AN// Guys the love and support I have been getting for this fic is actually amazing, thank you all so much for your likes, reblogs, comments and messages <3

Lula x