#the difference in hair is interesting too! I'm just now noticing that she has it up in most of the Wilderness pictures

[autism-swagger]

I sincerely hope you all know that when I say "baby butch Jackie Taylor who died before he had a chance to realize/explore it" I'm not just pulling that out of my ass. Literally just look at the outfits she wears over the course of season 1.

Are they the most masculine things ever? No, of course not! But when you compare them to the outfits we see her wear before the crash, when they're still in Wiskayok?

It paints a very interesting picture.

[randomshyperson]

Wanda holding hands 13 bc Ur smut is the best :D

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

prompt: linking hands together during sex | warnings: (+18) smut.

challenge masterlist | general masterlist

“Are you sure this is safe?”

Wanda lets out a giggle at your nervousness, sitting on your thighs, her hands resting on your stomach, she stares at you, her head slightly tilted.

"Are you questioning my magical abilities?" she counters your question with another one, receiving an offended snort in return.

"Of course not!" You mutter. You were looking at her before, but ended up looking down, where the toy conjured by the witch attached to your waist vibrates softly as if it were as desperate to feel her as you were half an hour ago when you both stumbled inside the rented room at the Harkness Mansion, where Wanda has been learning all sorts of magic for the past few months. Clearly, she has learned other interesting things, outside of the mandatory curriculum.

Your hands caress her thighs, but Wanda still notices the tension in your shoulders. She softens her gaze in your direction.

"It feels good, doesn't it? No need to worry." She rations, pleased to see you bite your lip as she tentatively caresses the plastic member. When you gasp at the stimulation, she feels a twinge of pride at her successful spell, too. "You can trust me."

"I trust you, darling." You assure her, a little out of breath and sweaty. It's round two already, and Wanda just proved her point by groping your new magical member, a squeeze that almost makes you lose your train of thought. "It's me I don't trust. What are we going to do about my strength? Are you sure-"

"That's exactly why I'm on top, silly." She cuts you off, adjusting herself on your lap in a way that brings her heat right where you want her. Your grip on her thighs tightens just enough to bruise. It's her time to bite her lip. With a deep breath, she stares at your eyes. "You just need to relax, and let me take charge. I bet you'll love it."

It's your turn to look at her adoringly. "Of course I will, it's you." You comment romantically, earning a shy smile from her. But then, there's a shift in her gaze. Wanda is still looking in your eyes as she adjusts the toy into her own entrance, teasing gently before slowly sinking down. She's able to feel every inch, filling her up to the bottom.

Your hands leave her thighs to grip the sheets, and she smiles breathlessly at your visible difficulty in keeping still, your jaw tensing as your stomach muscles tighten.

"See? I told you I'd like it." She teases, still getting used to the sensation of being full. She's pleased to know she got the size right, even though she can't help but imagine trying a bigger one in the future. "I'm going to start moving now, okay baby?"

But her body was betraying her. She was still quite sensitive, coming twice before for your fingers and tongue, she didn't imagine she'd be so affected so quickly when she switched to the toy. But the sensation was truly overwhelming. It was really different to feel you filling her like that, and in the attempt to grind against your lap, her body protested, as ready for climax as she had been when she started.

You came to her rescue immediately. Sitting, one of your hands brushed her hair away from her face, to get a better look at her before kissing her. Your other hand went down, wrapping around her waist and taking control of her movements. Wanda rewarded you with an affected moan against your lips, her thighs trembling on either side of your body as you forced her hips to move against yours. She didn't want to come so fast, but she couldn't help it. Being held like this, she felt so safe and loved that the knot in her lower belly exploded almost at the same moment you whispered "I got you, lovely". 

In the ecstasy of her own climax, she didn't notice your determination to hold back, unable to surrender without worries. It was only when she calmed down, breathless and still trying to get back into orbit, that she realized. Hugging you by the neck, she kissed your skin before speaking again. "I told you to trust me."

You sigh, caressing her back with open palms. "I do, but I don't want to hurt you." You murmur. Despite being bigger than Wanda, you suddenly seem very small. "Every muscle is amplified by the serum, Wands, you know that. I'm afraid I might-"

She cuts you off with a determined kiss. Wet and rough, it makes you gasp and grab her cheeks, pulling away for air. Wanda arches her back, teasing and baiting you, the image of her naked figure making you gasp. You stare at where your bodies connect, but don't move.

She grinds, and you groan. "Jesus, Wanda."

"You won't hurt me, I promise." She assures you, equally affected, having trouble keeping her eyes on you, her brow furrowed due to the roughness of her own hips' movements. Doing this, you kept hitting a sensitive spot inside her, and it was a hard feeling to ignore in order to speak. "It's part of the magic. Can you, for all that is holy, trust what I'm saying?"

You don't contradict, mainly because you're unable to hold back when Wanda is riding you so eagerly. You tense up then, panicking once you feel your climax reaching you, but to no avail, it's your attempt at holding it. An animalistic moan rips its way through your throat, and you grab Wanda's waist, holding her in place as you empty yourself inside her. She whines affectly, grabbing your shoulders as she feels the hot shot inside her. 

For a second, not only the toy soften but your body too, going heavy on her. She holds both of you to the bed with her thighs around your waist, a hand caressing your hair as she tries to ignore the way your cock is still pulsing and leaking inside her.

“Need a break, baby?” She asks softly but you groan deeply, hands suddenly firming around her to flip both of you in bed. She gasps when her back hits the mattress, but her surprise is turned into something else when you pound into her with strength. “Fuck.”

Her hands fell into the bed with the shifting in the position, and Wanda's eyes widened a little when you reached for them, holding them together above her head.

This was new and Wanda was definitely not complaining.

“We should have tried this ages ago.” You say, your voice husky due to the efforts and the previous orgasms. Wanda thinks you look beautiful like this, out of breath while you fuck her. “I could be gentle but… something tells me you don't want me to.”

Your free hand moves down to flick her swollen clit between your fingers and Wanda cries out, her back arching on the bed. You smirk, adjusting just so you could move the toy that slipped out back inside her.

There's a quick teasing from your part, pushing just the tip of the toy into her overstimulated dripping pussy, but sooner than later, you push all the way inside. Cursing under your breath as Wanda fights against the hold on her hands. She wants to hold you so badly that it physically consumes her and you end up pitying her pleasing eyes and needy moans. 

But you don't free her hands, instead, you entrelaces your fingers together in a deep grip that anchors her when your movements resume.

The pounding is rough, it cracks the bed and takes Wanda to a state of colorful eyes and magic emanation. The only noises in the room are the shared moaning and the obscene sounds of your cock pushing into her aching heat, the moisture of your last climax leaking into the bed. When she comes, all the lights in the bedroom flash. You follow her this time, groaning into her neck as you come. 

For a second, none of you are able to say anything, all but breathless gasps leaving your lips. Then, there's a shared giggle, and your fingers, still interlaced, squeeze before letting go, only for you to remove the sweaty hair away from her face.

“Hey, you.” She smiles at your words, tired eyes threatening to close as she looks at you. “Enjoying yourself aren't you?”

“Don't tease me, when you're just whining three seconds ago.” She retorts, getting a chuckle from you. Wanda let her hands cross behind your neck. “Wanna join me in the shower?”

“Honey, if I ever say no to that, you can bet I lost my mind for good.” You joke, muffling her and giggling with your mouth.

[banananutmuffin28]

hii if u take reqs could u plsss write a wlw semi x fem reader college au where reader and semi are roommates but don’t get along well bc semi is loud/disruptive and always bringing girls over but over time semi falls for reader as they get closer and gets jealous when someone makes romantic advances towards the reader? happy ending and with a reader that has a sweet and cute kind of personality if that’s ok! so sorry if this is too much for a req 😭😭 tysm 🫶

A/N: YESSS! So sorry this took so long! I was a bit fatigued from work, haha.

Se-Mi x FEM! Reader—College AU

You were quite never fond of loud noises.

The distaste stemmed from when you were very little. You always hid away during thunderstorms and cried when the gongs of the lion dances grew too loud.

As you grew, it would become more manageable, but your dislike of it was always still there, lingering in the shadows.

You were the quiet type of girl who'd rather spend her nights curled up around a television, rather than spend her time partying outside.

Being surrounded by the pillows and gentle quiet made you feel safe.

And so, with this knowledge in mind, of course the universe decided to give you the most annoying and irresponsible roommate ever.

Se-Mi.

You knew she was trouble from the very moment you met her.

You purse your lips. You could still recall that time, even now.

She was dressed in a leather jacket and blue jeans. One hand gripped the case of a guitar, while the other was combing through her short hair. She didn't seem too interested in you, rather, it seemed like she merely wanted to get the pleasantries out of the way so that she could go off into her own little world.

You already knew she was a huge fan of piercings. There was one on her lip, one on her nose, and when she started to introduce herself you could catch glimpses of one on her tongue.

And, if her attire was truly the only odd thing about her, then you could live with that.

After all, who were you to dictate how other people dressed?

But, that wasn't the end of it. Hell, it was only the beginning.

For starters, Se-Mi’s room was always half-open, allowing the heavy metal music on her speaker to bleed out into the rest of the dorm. 

You had tried asking her to dial back the volume multiple times, but it never really helped.

It seemed the two of you had very different definitions of the word, “quiet.”

And, what was more, Se-Mi was not bashful about her appearance. At all.

You flush, remembering multiple times when she would simply stroll right out of the shower in only her bra and a pair of very short shorts. You remember once when she had walked straight into the kitchen like that while you were frying eggs.

The sight of her toned stomach and the faint outlines of her abs made you blush. And fuck, were her arms always so muscular?”

You didn’t notice the acrid smell until it was too late.

Later that night during dinner, Se-Mi blurted out, “How the hell did you manage to burn scrambled eggs?”

Se-Mi’s music taste and lax boundaries weren’t the only things that clashed with your own.

She was also a party girl.

At first, she hadn’t visited many, and the few she did frequent never stole her away for more than a few hours.

But then summer hit.

And, from then onward, Se-Mi would always come home at an ungodly hour, smelling of liquor and with her arm wrapped around a girl.

The first time you had seen her like this, you screamed, more for her sake than yours.

"Se-Mi! What the hell are you doing at this hour? And who the hell is with you?"

The other woman merely shrugged, lips curling into a lazy grin as she ignored your question to whisper something into the stranger's ear.

The girl turned a bright shade of red, and then scurried into Se-Mi's room.

You scowled.

Great, so your new roommate was a womanizer.

"Oh, don't worry about it sweetheart. I'm just having some fun," SeMi cooed, stepping over to pinch your cheek.

You wrinkled your nose and swatted her hand away.

Se-Mi pouted.

"And besides," She continues, gesturing a hand towards you, "What gives you the right to lecture me about being up at this hour while you yourself are out of bed?"

You could barely hold yourself back from rolling your eyes.

Running a hand along your neck, you pointed to your frizzled hair and tired eyes.

"Your loud footsteps woke me up, genius."

Normally, you were never this rude to strangers, and certainly not so quickly after meeting them. 

But, something about Se-Mi sparked a fire inside you, prompting you to snipe back.

And besides, it wasn't as if she was making any effort to be nice to you.

Unrepentant, Se-Mi waved her hand dismissively.

"Sorry, didn't know you were a light sleeper. I'll be careful next time," She said, in a tone that made you think she definitely wasn't going to be careful next time.

Before you could think of a retort, she began walking away.

"Sorry, sweetheart,” She purred, wiggling her long fingers into the air. “I can't talk for long. I got a girl to see."

As she strolled to her room and shut the door, you let out a loud exhale.

This was going to be a long night.

–

Yesterday, you learned approximately two things about your roommate. One: She was apparently great at sex, and Two: Whoever she brought over could not keep her damn trap shut.

You already knew you looked like a walking zombie before Mi-Na called you out on it.

"Hey girl!" She chirped, skipping up to you with a perkiness that made you jealous. She paused when she got closer, eyebrows drawn up in concern, "You doing okay? You look like a sick bear chewed you up then spat you back out."

You looked at her wearily.

"What gave it away?"

Mi-Na shook her head incredulously.

"Oh, I don't know, maybe it's how you're literally hunched over like you're suddenly in your eighties and your skin became five layers paler?" Mi-Na grabbed a strand of your hair, appalled. 

"What happened to your shine? Your morning smiles?"

You barked out a laugh.

“It’s just my roommate. She brought a girl over at 2 AM in the morning and the thin walls did a terrible job concealing their concerning noises.”

The brown haired girl jutted her lips out and she cupped your face together.

“That’s fucking terrible! I think I would straight up kill her if she were mine.”

Mi-Na backed away and straightened up.

"That's it! Today after you're done with your classes I'm taking you to the cafe. I can't have my best friend keel over so quickly. What if you were supposed to meet a rich hot woman tomorrow and your death off-sets the universe?”

She clamped your hand in hers and started dragging you over to the vending machines. As she walked, the keychains in her bag jingled softly, making you smile. 

Your eyes trailed to the glittery pink bunny keychain clipping to the front, then looked back to the red one dangling from your backpack.

Mi-Na had purchased it a few years ago when the two of you were in a mall.

“See? Now it’s obvious to everyone that we’re besties!”

The memory eased a bit of the tiredness from you, making your body feel lighter.

Letting out a giggle, you began to skip along with her.

Noticing your change in demeanor, Mi-Na grinned.

“Yes! That’s the bestie I know!”

–

The cafe food really did help. Mi-Na didn’t hold back, and demanded you try each and every one of the pastries and a drink of your choice in order to, and you quote, “Regain your sunniness.”

Honestly, you were surprised you didn’t get a stomachache from all the sweets.

Stomach comfortably full, you strolled along the familiar path on your campus to the dorm. A dumb smile was dancing across your face, and the scenery felt clearer. 

The trees swayed gently in the gentle breeze, and you could hear the birds chirping faintly in the distance. The sun was setting, bathing you and the concrete path in a warm orange glow.

Maybe your dorm state improved, too.

The thought sent a thrill down your spine, setting your chest alight with excitement. You would be roommates with Se-Mi for a very long time–you didn’t want to spend all of that hating her.

But…as you walked, you noticed a peculiar buzz in the air. It bounced along the breeze, managing to sound both obscenely loud and muted at the same time.

You pause, feeling the smile start to die on your lips as you look around.

Was someone throwing a party?

You stare at the many windows of the dormitory, trying to find one with shifting lights or figures of people in the aperture. 

No luck.

You shrugged, and continued to walk.

Whatever. It wasn’t your business, anyways.

–

Fuck. 

Okay, maybe it was your business after all. Because, why in the hell was the music coming from your dorm?

Please tell me I’m just going crazy, You think, heart thundering in your ribcage. Parties lasted a fucking long time and you didn’t have the energy to kick a whole group of people out of your room.

You put your hand on the doorknob, and twisted it.

On the other side were four people. Se-Mi was off to the side strumming the guitar, a man with purple-dyed hair was in the middle with a microphone to his mouth, another man with waves in his hair was drumming, while the last, shortest man had his back turned to you, recording the group.

They all froze when they noticed you.

“Hey, what the hell man?” The guy—whose name you just vaguely remembered was Thanos—hissed, glaring at you. “Do you know how long that took us to get right?”

He turned to the man recording.

“Cut!” He screamed, before running a hand along his face. “Min-Su, I thought I told you to lock the damn door!”

“I-I did!” Min-Su stammered, glancing back at you fearfully. “I swear—“

“I have the key,” You interrupt, awkwardly holding the metal object out. “I’m Se-Mi’s roommate.”

The second her name left your lips, Se-Mi set aside her guitar and rushed to you.

Her eyebrows were furrowed and her face was scrunched up in a frown. “Hey love, why didn’t you knock first?” She asked, a little forcefully. “Now we’re going to have to reshoot everything.”

Your eyes narrowed and you scowled back. 

“Look, it’s not my fault I’m still sleep deprived,” You grumble, jutting a finger at her chest. “Which was your fault, by the way. I was terrified you were throwing a large fucking party in our dorm!”

“Wait—hold on a second,” The drummer interrupted. “Se-Mi, did you fuck your roommate?”

“What?”

“Nam-Gyu!”

For the first time ever, both you and Se-Mi were in sync.

Pink flushed the other woman’s cheeks. She glanced at you for the briefest of moments, but averted her gaze just as fast.

And, you weren’t faring much better. You were suddenly intimately aware of how close you were to Se-Mi, and the fact that if you just reached a little further you could hold her hand.

Don’t you dare think about that, you idiot! Remember how obnoxious she is!

Still, you felt like your face just turned fifty shades brighter, and you were sure your mouth was open enough to resemble a frog trying to catch flies.

“Hey, she and I did not have sex last night,” Se-Mi growled defensively, staring daggers at Nam-Gyu. 

Nam-Gyu raised an eyebrow, a smirk forming.

“If that’s what you say~”

“Asshole.” Se-Mi whispered. You were inclined to agree.

Thanos put down his microphone, looking unamused. 

“Fuckkk, all this talking’s making me tired.”

He packed his things and walked towards the door. 

“I’m heading out. Peace.”

The others followed suit, until it was only you and Se-Mi.

She blew out a sigh and ran a hand through her hair.

“Great, now we’ll have to do it again another day,” Se-Mi grumbled as she began to clean up the mess her bandmates left behind.

“Maybe it won’t be so bad…” You start, though when she barks out a laugh you stop.

“Sweetheart, do you know how hard it is to fucking organize a time when we’re not all busy with some shit?”

“Like what? Getting drunk at parties?” You hiss back.

Se-Mi’s eyes widened, then her lip began to curl into a snarl.

“Don’t act like I’m some drug addict, love. Just because I can afford to have fun doesn’t automatically make me some junkie.”

 “The hell? I can have some fun too!”

“You call watching TV and squeaking around with your best friend all day fun?”

You swear your Goddamned roommate is going to be the death of you.

“Yes, I do, and if you don’t want to end up dead in a ditch one day you should try it too,” You grit out, before turning around to your room.

“I’m too tired to keep this argument going. I’m going to bed.”

—

The tension between you and Se-Mi grew each passing day. 

It became suffocating.

Minor problems ended up turning into major fights, and neither of you would respect the other’s wishes.

You refused to leave the room whenever Se-Mi’s band came along.

Meanwhile, Se-Mi blasted her music, and it was so loud that you could feel it reverberating in your rib cage.

Your roommate is a nightmare.

—

The door to Se-Mi’s room burst open.

You flinch, nerves alight as you pull the blanket taut over your cold frame. You rip your eyes from the TV screen, staring at Se-Mi.

Despite yourself, you couldn’t help but ask, “Hey, are you alright?”

Se-Mi only scowls in response.

A phone dangles from her hand as she presses it to her ear, completely ignoring you.

“Yeah, of course I’ll be there,” She says. Try as she might to hide it, there was a tremor in her voice.

Se-Mi’s steps were unsteady, and more than once she had to lean against the wall to keep herself from toppling over.

Shit she is not okay.

Concerned, you stand up, leaving your blanket to hang haphazardly on the couch. 

“Hey,” You say, hardening your voice as you make your way to her. “ You’re not feeling well, are you? Seriously, go sit down.”

Se-Mi sniffed, still refusing to meet your gaze.

“It’s just a cold,” She replies curtly. “Why do you care, anyway? Don’t you hate me or some shit?”

Her harsh words cut open your heart as you feel your face fall.

“What?” Sure, I may not like you and you’re certainly an ass, but I don’t hate you.”

You pause.

“And even if I did, I still wouldn’t want you making a mess all over the living room floor.

You stop mid sentence to grab her arm. “Come on, you look like you’re going to vomit.”

“Get off me!” She snarls, though she barely has any strength to push you away. The taller woman tries to move away, but she suddenly doubles over in pain and ends up curling into you instead.

“Shit…”

“Hey, senorita are you alright?” 

Thanos’s voice could be heard on the other side. His voice was a little soft, muffled by the sound of music.

“Give me that,” You demanded, before putting on the brightest voice you could muster. “Sorry, Thanos, but Se-Mi isn’t going to attend whatever you’re planning. I’m putting her on house arrest.”

“What? Why—“

You end the call before he can say more.

Se-Mi was glowering at you, her chest heaving. She was still leaning at you for support, though you could tell in her eyes that she loathed every second of it. 

“What the hell was that for? I don’t need your help—“

She starts to cough.

Hastily, you bring her to the sofa and bundle her into your blanket.

She looked like an oversized blanket burrito.

The corner of your mouth tilts up, and you could barely suppress the giggle bubbling up in your throat. Your roommate looked so…soft like this.

You could almost call it cute.

“Are you just gonna stare at me all night?” Se-Mi mumbles, snapping you from your thoughts. Her cheeks were tinged pink again, and she nervously played with her lip piercing.

Heat rushed through you.

“Of course! I’m so sorry,” You stammer, and run to get her a cup of water and a cold towel.

When you come back, you find Se-Mi curled up in a ball. Her gaze was fixated on the telenovela you were watching, and she gripped the arms of the sofa.

“They’re so stupid!” She exclaims hoarsely when she hears your footsteps. She pauses, taking a swig of the cup you handed to her before continuing. “How can they be so oblivious to their feelings?”

Who would’ve known your obnoxious roommate likes soap operas of all things. 

You liked it. At least now you could bond with her over something.

Giggling, you crawl onto the couch with her and pat her back.

“Shhh, give them time. I’m sure they’ll sort through their love problems eventually.”

She chewed her lip.

“They better, else I might reach through the screen and smack them both on the head.”

A snort escapes your lips before you could quell it. Se-Mi grins, leaning closer to you. 

A loud explosion draws your attention back to the screen, and you quiet down. Se-Mi follows suit, scrunching her nose as she watches.

When the episode finishes, she lets out an angry groan.

“It was so obvious that that witch was lying!” She grumbles, freeing a hand so she could point it to the screen. “They’re so stupid, love!”

You laugh again, wrapping your arms around Se-Mi.

“Guess you’ll just have to wait until next week to see what happens next.”

She stills in your embrace, exhaling softly.

You frown. “What’s wrong, Se-Mi? Do you not like being hugged?”

She shakes her head. 

“Nah, sweetheart, it’s just…” She trails off, trying to fit her thoughts into words. “I’ve been an ass to you, yet you still cared enough to take care of me and let me hog the blanket.”

Se-Mi turns to you.

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

The way she looked at you so earnestly–with shame and gratitude flooding her eyes–awoke some primal feeling inside you. It was like you had just run a marathon; your nerves were alight and you were breathing oh so heavily.

Nervously, you reach a hand out to her, praying to any and every God out there that she wouldn’t notice your flushed skin. 

“I…was a bit of an ass too,” You admit, hating the hitch in your voice. “Let’s call it a truce?”

Se-Mi beamed and clasped your hand in hers. 

Her skin was hot.

“Yeah.”

“She paused.

“Hey, you said the next episode will come out next week?”

“Yup.”

“Could I maybe…be there to watch it with you?”

 Se-Mi seemed to have to force the words out, and she bowed her head slightly.

Your eyes widened. But, it wasn’t long before a stupid grin made it on your face.

“Of course!” You chirp. “Be warned though, I might talk your ears off.”

Se-Mi gave you a wry smile.

“There are worse ways to die.”

“So, it’s a date?”

Se-Mi gasped softly and you cursed yourself. You had always used that term with Mi-Na, and it didn’t matter much since she was straight and you were not. 

But…this was different. Se-Mi was very vocal about her complete disinterest in dudes.

And, it wasn’t like you weren’t attracted to her on any level. Again, the memory of Se-Mi’s toned body and slender fingers barged back into your mind. You saw how well she played the guitar, and noticed how she would always leave in the morning to run laps around the campus.

More than once, you had nearly choked on your coffee when her shirt would ride up just enough to reveal the light abs beneath. 

 Embarrassment began to pool in your gut and you scrambled to save yourself.

“As friends!” You yelped with a little too much enthusiasm. “As totally, 100% platonic friends.”

Se-Mi didn’t respond, and instead chose to stare at you blankly.

Fuck.

Did you really just ruin the budding friendship you had with your roommate?

With each passing second, it became more and more unbearable to feel her gaze on you. Maybe it would be more merciful to disintegrate into a thousand particles right now and be swept up in a dustpan. 

“You know, sweetheart, with how you worded that it sounded anything but platonic.” Se-Mi finally teased, eyes twinkling as she began to unfurl the blanket from her body.

Sweat glistened from her neck, and the tips of her ears were tinted pink.

“I-I didn’t mean it like that! I swear!” You squeak, which only serves to make her laugh harder.

“Really now?” She whispered, slowly crawling to you. Se-Mi was careful not to crush you, placing one knee between the spot in your legs whilst resting the other to the left of you.

And it was oh so unfortunate that she was wearing a shirt with a low V-neck today.

Don’t think about it don’t think about it don’t think about it—“

Boobs.

Your mouth opened into a silent scream.

Se-Mi shook her head fondly.

“Alright, alright, sweetheart, I’ll stop the teasing,” She said, eyes glinting mischievously. 

The taller woman moved away and sat back up, cheeks flushed.

“I’ll see you next week?”

“Yeah.”

—

After your conversation with her, weekly telenovela get togethers became commonplace. Usually, Se-Mi would bring the blankets and pillows while you prepared the snacks. Once you two were both settled, you’d switch the TV on and snuggle together side by side.

You tried to tell yourself that you didn’t feel flustered when Se-Mi’s skin brushed against yours, and that you didn’t fantasize about kissing her hot, soft lips while her calloused fingers trailed down your thigh.

You are not falling in love with your stupid, obnoxious roommate. That simply wasn’t possible. You hate her.

You hate her.

You loathed her.

You…

Oh, who were you kidding?

You whine, shoving your face into the blanket wrapped around your waist as you tried to get away from your intrusive thoughts.

Focus on the damned show! Not on how terribly you wanted Se-Mi’s hands to wander across your body, to touch you in the most intimate of places.

No.

No!!

Shut up you dumb, horny thoughts—

“Sweetheart, are you focusing on what I’m saying?”

You gasp, jumping backward slightly.

Se-Mi’s face was so close to your own, allowing you to memorize her features.

Fuck, she’s so pretty.

“Yes?” You stammer?

Se-Mi’s lips twisted into an apologetic frown.

“Next week I can’t attend our movie night, love. My friends have been complaining nonstop about how I “suddenly ditched them” and how they really miss me. Apparently they organized a whole secret party for me and only told me today.”

She blew out a breath.

“I can’t skip a party if it’s literally thrown in my honor.”

Disappointment flooded your veins, but you still tried to smile.

Noticing your reaction, Se-Mi played with her hair anxiously. 

“I’m really sorry, love. If there was any way out of it for me, I’d take it but…my hands are tied.”

“Wait,” You say, suddenly grabbing her hands. “Take me with you.”

Her eyes widened.

“Are you sure, love? Don’t you hate loud noises?”

“I do, but I want to spend more time with you. And we’ve only been focusing on my interests. I want to try some of yours too.”

Se-Mi smiled.

“You’d really do that for me? Thank you.”

She ruffled your hair.

“But, if it gets too much, will you promise to let me know? I’ll bring you home immediately.”

You nodded.

Try as she might, Se-Mi couldn’t contain the excitement buzzing through her.

“That’s great! I can’t wait to see you there.”

—

You frowned, twirling around in the mirror. In front of you, your dress flared out prettily. Your fingers danced in your hair, making sure that no strands were out of place.

You can do this, you think.

“You ready, sweetheart?”

Se-Mi’s voice was muddled through the doorway.

“I am!” 

Eagerly, you opened the door and posed in front of her.

“How do I look?”

Se-Mi inhaled sharply, her eyes alight with an emotion you couldn’t quite describe.

“…You look gorgeous,” She whispers at last.

You grin, feeling a blush spread across your cheeks. 

“Well, you’re easy on the eyes, too.”

And she truly didn’t. Se-Mi wore a buttoned up navy blue shirt and black stylish pants. Her hair was combed, and a small guitar pin was pinned to her shirt pocket.

Fuck, you wanted to kiss her so bad.

You shook your head, once again trying to dispel those thoughts.

This was going to be a normal party. Nothing more.

Se-Mi extended a hand to you.

“Lets go, love.”

—

A disco ball hung from above, coating the large room in an assortment of colors. First, the walls were red, then shifted to green, blue, and so on. 

The table containing the snacks and drinks was crowded, and everyone was talking at once.

This wasn’t your scene.

Immediately, you looked to Se-Mi, and some of that stiffness in your posture melted away.

She looked so content like this, like it was her natural habitat. She chatted with various people, seemingly unbothered by the strong smell of alcohol and cigarettes in the air.

But, Se-Mi would always periodically glance back at you to make sure you were okay. The gesture made your heart swell.

Currently, she was engrossed in a conversation with a man in black slacks. 

You let her be, and started to meander around the room, wanting to stretch your legs.

Suddenly, you felt a cold hand on your shoulder.

“Hey baby,” A very drunk man purred, trying to pull you towards his chest. “What’re you doin’ here, all alone?”

You swat his hand away, disgusted.

“Don’t touch me,” You snapped, and tried to move away.

“Awww, don’ be like that, baby.” He said, his words slurring together. The stranger tried to palm your breasts, and you wanted to retch.

You opened your mouth, ready to retort—

“Don’t. Fucking. Touch. Her.”

From seemingly out of nowhere, Se-Mi burst into view, her eyes coldly trained on the man in front of you. She all but ripped his hand away from your chest, and slammed him to the wall.

The man shrieked.

“Get off me! I don’ want your dirty hands on me.”

“Oh? So now all of a sudden you care about consent, you dipshit?” Se-Mi sneered, sinking her fingernails into the man’s skin. “You didn’t seem all too worried about it earlier, when you were molesting her.”

The creep didn’t respond, and only scowled, trying to wrench himself free from her grasp. 

“Get out.” Se-Mi spat, finally releasing him. “I want your face out of here in the next thirty seconds, or I’ll throw you out myself.”

The man fell to the floor, and all but scrambled to run out the door.

Se-Mi’s chest heaved up and down. Sweat slicked her forehead, and a snarl was still on her face.

“Did he hurt you anywhere?” She demanded, grabbing your arms to check for injuries. When you winced at her roughness, she immediately relaxed her grip.

“Fuck, sorry sweetheart. You okay?”

You only nodded, pulling her into an embrace.

“Can we get out of here?”

“Of course.”

—

The cold air bit your skin and you shivered, nuzzling closer to Se-Mi’s embrace. Cursing, she hugged you tighter and rubbed your arms.

“Shit, I forgot to bring a jacket.”

“It’s okay…” You mumbled, sinking deeper into her hug. “I like this.”

“That bastard,” Se-Mi hissed angrily. She cupped your face protectively and stroked your hair. “To have the fucking audacity to lay a finger on you while looking like that.”

You hushed her and pulled her closer.

“It’s okay, Se-Mi. I’m okay.”

She sighed.

“I know, sweetheart. I was just…scared. I know you didn’t like him touching you.”

You nodded, intertwining your fingers with hers.

“I’d prefer you touch me instead,” You admit, cheeks growing red.

“W…what?” Se-Mi looked like a deer frozen in headlights. Her face turned a deep shade of pink and she ran a hand through her hair.

“Are you sure, sweetheart? I mean, you just went through a terrible experience, I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

“I mean it,” You murmur, tilting your face to angle yourself against her lips.

“I…I want you to kiss me. To make me forget his touch.”

Se-Mi exhaled softly. 

From beside her, a car drove past the road, briefly illuminating her face in an otherworldly glow.

She bit her lip, her hands sinking down to your hips.

“If you insist,” Se-Mi whispered, and you could feel her breath tickling your lips.

“Of course I do.”

Slowly, she closes the distance.

Her lips were soft.

So utterly soft.

Se-Mi’s mouth tasted sweet, and you whined, tongue prodding at her lips, begging her passage. She allowed it, opening her mouth for you to explore.

Gently, she began to dip you down, supporting your back with her hand.

When the two of you finally parted, Se-Mi grinned, wearing that stupid smirk that she always had.

“You’re a good kisser, sweetheart.”

She purred, brushing your cheek with her hand.

You sighed, leaning into her touch.

“You aren’t so bad yourself.

[valsverse]

— general dating hc's

pairing: percy jackson, annabeth chase, leo valdez, piper mclean, hazel levesque, jason grace, frank zhang (respectively) x gn!reader

word count: 3.0k part two

percy jackson

• underwater kisses!! all the time!! being a son of poseidon has its benefits. the whole experience is just magical fr. it's like being in a whole different world, where nothing else matters except for the two of you. the sensation of your lips touching, your bodies intertwined, and the sound of your breathing mixing with the water is simply unforgettable. the way your hands hold onto each other, the way your eyes lock, and the way your heart beats as one, it's a feeling that can't be replicated anywhere else.

• percy 100% teaches you how to skate. the first chance he gets, he'll lead you onto the smooth, concrete surface of the skate park with the intent of teaching you!!

he patiently guides you, holding your hands and rolling you along while walking beside you. he teaches you how to shift your weight, how to balance, and how to stop. and every time you stumble, he makes a huge show of catching you in his arms LMAO. like, it's not that serious, percy.

whenever he's skating alone, he can't help but think of you. :(( the way your hair sways in the wind, the sound of your laughter, and the warmth of your hand in his. he would often skate in circles, lost in thought, imagining you by his side. <33 (all the other skaters think he looks like a fool, but he doesn't care.)

• now don't tell me you two do not have matching jewelry, because you DO. he learns a lot about your style and preferences, (he knows if you look better in gold or silver) and the pretty necklaces and stuff are just a bonus!!

he wears a necklace with several charms all the time, since it was a gift from you! some of the charms include an ocean charm and a tiny silver skateboard that dangles from the delicate chain. whenever he misses you, he would reach up and touch the necklace, feeling the smooth metal under his fingers, and smile. <33

• whenever you explain things to percy, he nods his head in agreement, but you notice his gaze flickering towards your lips ever so often. you don't know what he's thinking, but his expression provides a pretty obvious hint as to what may be on his mind.

• growing up as a child of one of the big three can certainly take its toll on anyone, even percy. after a long day of training and preventing new campers from capsizing the canoes while racing with the naiads, all he wants is to melt into your embrace.

he sneaks into your cabin with you as soon as possible, laying down on your bed, a deep sigh escaping his lips and he stretches his neck from side to side, relishing in the brief moment of peace. his arms are outstretched, inviting you to join him, as he longs for the comfort and safety of your embrace.

it's clear that being in your presence has a calming effect on him, reassuring him that everything is going to be alright. <33

annabeth chase

• annabeth has a penchant for discovering new things to learn and become deeply invested in, and she talks to you about her newest interests all the time. when you take the time to listen to her ramblings about her current passions, she gets so excited!!

sometimes, you spend hours in the library researching the concepts and terminology she speaks of, just so that you can engage in a meaningful conversation with her instead of just nodding along. the effort is well worth it to see her reaction; the way her face lights up as she smiles, leaning in to give you a big kiss on the cheek as a reward!!

• but sometimes annabeth rambles way too much. like, wayyyy too much. i'm talking hours on end. while her voice is soothing and you enjoy lying in her arms while she speaks, it can be a lot at times.

and annabeth only stops talking when she's finished gushing. unless you kiss her first.

although she tries to act like your affection doesn't work on her, complaining with phrases like, "why did you do that," or "you didn't let me finish." but her tone clearly softens. her eyes crinkling at the corners, and soon enough her facade breaks and she can no longer hold back a smile. <33

• you guys still use pinky promises. it doesn't matter if she personally thinks it's trivial, she does it for your sake because she values your belief in it. and if anyone dares to make fun of it, she'd be glaring daggers at them the entire day. if looks could kill, they'd be dead.

(and after you two interlock pinkies she kisses the palm of your hand to seal the deal.)

• annabeth isn't big on PDA, but she definitely steals kisses when people aren't looking.

• annabeth love, love, LOVES reading to you!! especially when there's nobody around and it's just the two of you, your head on her lap as she reads aloud about the wonders of Richardsonian Romanesque style architecture... whatever that is. (but she makes it sound interesting so you don't care.)

• overall 10/10, what a queen.

leo valdez

• he's your portable heater fr. leo keeps you warm by holding you close. it's particularly convenient when you're nestled on his lap or resting against his chest.

• this man can COOK. he mainly cooks food from his heritage because it's a way for him to connect to his roots, but if you ask him to make a particular dish for you, he'll do it, no questions asked. it's a common sight to catch a glimpse of him in the kitchen, diligently chopping ingredients and following the recipe to your favorite dish, getting himself completely covered in smoke and steam by the end of the process, but the result is always delicious so neither of you care.

he'll often call you into the kitchen to taste-test his newest recipe, shoving the dish in your face and urging you to try it like, "here babe, taste it!!" with the brightest smile as he eagerly waits for your feedback. he values your opinions a lot!

• him calling you petnames in spanish >>> omg. among his favorites are "mi amor" (my love), "cariño" (darling), and "corazón" (sweetheart). he usually rotates between those three and it never fails to bring a blush to your cheeks because like, hello??? how could it not??? he's always quick to notice your reaction and can't resist teasing you, playful remarks leaving his lips like, "a little flustered now are we, mi amor?" 🙏🙏🙏

• no matter how long you've been together, leo still flirts with you like it's the first time he's seen you. he'll brace himself against the nearest doorframe and unleash the cheesiest pick-up line known to mankind. despite their predictability, you play along. the game ends when he asks you on a "first date."

• leo spends a lot of time tinkering in his workshop, so whenever boredom sets in, (or if he's just thinking of you) he likes to put his creativity to use by making various small creations with you on his mind. these items range from keychains, to mini jewelry boxes, and even small flowers carved out of metal scraps. (you now have enough to make a bouquet.) your nightstand and shelves are absolutely littered with his handiwork, and you take pride in owning each one of them. <33

• leo's the type of guy that twirls you around while hugging. there's something incredibly spontaneous and thrilling about the experience — just when you think he's only reaching for your hand, he suddenly lifts you off the ground and spins you around, generating a moment of pure joy before gently setting you down once again, and leaning back in for a normal hug.

• he's so whipped for you it's not even funny.

piper mclean

• piper hates being categorized as a typical child of aphrodite due to the expectations and assumptions that come with the title, especially given the reputation of some of her siblings. she's always quick to reassure you that she won't break your heart and that her love for you is truly genuine.

• piper has a soft spot for when you play with her hair; running your fingers through her choppy locks and especially when you braid it. when you gently scratch her scalp while brushing your nails through her hair, she gets lost in her own little world.

• piper isn't afraid to show you off if you're okay with it. like she's in a beautiful, loving relationship, why wouldn't she?? also she's a hand swinger FR. 🙏🙏🙏

• you guys have matching bracelets!! nothing fancy, just a bunch of multi-colored beads on a string, but she loves them so much. sometimes you dedicate dates to making these bracelets just because it's one of her favorite pastimes.

she has one with your name written on the beads, a couple with the titles of the albums you listen to together, as well as ones with your preferred color schemes. just anything to remind her of you. <33

her collection is so big that they now stack up to her arms. maybe it's becoming a problem.

• while piper doesn't like flaunting her wealth, if she sees that you have your eye on something she'll immediately buy it for you. no questions asked. you don't even need to say anything.

maybe you'll bring it up ONCE, not even asking her to buy it, just mentioning you were saving up for a particular item, and the next day it's on your bed with a note from her. when you ask her she'll just be like, "weren't you talking about it?"

• while piper is pretty self-conscious about her singing, she'll do it if you ask her to because she trusts you. if you're having trouble sleeping, she'll lay your head in her lap and sing a short melody, and it works every time. once you drift off, she’ll place a tender kiss on your forehead, (or multiple) and express how much you mean to her, because she can't be this sentimental when you're awake.

she's so in love omg.

hazel levesque

• she's the absolute sweetest girlfriend you could ever ask for! her sweet and loving nature is simply amazing and her love for you knows no bounds. she goes above and beyond to make you feel appreciated and loved in every way possible.

• she definitely loves to go horse-back riding with you. the sensation of the wind blowing through your hair, the warm sun kissing your skin, and the gentle sound of the horse's hooves rhythmically hitting the ground beneath you — it all feels like pure magic, especially since hazel is sharing the moment with you!

• over time, hazel got more comfortable with kisses. the first time you two shared a kiss, she timidly brushed her lips against yours before rapidly withdrawing, her hands instinctively covering her face in embarrassment.

but as time went by and your relationship progressed, she soon began to relax and gain confidence, especially with you relaxing and guiding her through every step of the way. <33

PDA isn't really her thing, but when the two of you are in private, she WILL shower you with kisses on various parts of your body, including your forehead, cheeks, neck, lips, and anywhere else she can reach. i feel like she'd especially love kissing your nose. it's quite endearing to watch her stand on her toes to give you a sweet smooch if you're tall, or simply grab your face and plant a gentle kiss on your nose if you're shorter.

• hazel is doing her best to learn about your interests, but like many things in the today's world, it's a learning process for her. but your help makes her feel more at ease in this modern world. there is still a lot that hazel doesn't fully comprehend, so she values the historical insights you share with her.

• hazel's love languages are acts of service and gift giving. she loves the way your eyes light up when she pampers you. she's also so patient when she helps you with your sword-fighting!! she goes the extra mile to help you master any technique, training with you for hours on end just to see your smile. she patiently guides you through each step, offering advice and encouragement along the way. her joy comes from your progress and happiness.

• okay this is a small thing but she always lets you have the last bite!! whether you're dining out or sharing popcorn at the movies, hazel is always mindful of ensuring that you get the last bite/handful. <33

she's so cute omg.

jason grace

• i think most of us know how touch starved this man is, but he slowly eases into romantic gestures. after a long day of praetor duties, all he wants to do is melt in your arms as you whisper sweet nothings to him.

jason loovvees resting his forehead against yours. it just brings him a sense of comfort and solace, really just your presence itself makes him feel safe. <33

• jason grows to love hand-holding! it starts off with just linking pinkies, but progresses when you take his calloused palms into yours. from the second you two intertwine hands, he's hooked.

he doesn't really know how to initiate hand-holding, so he often makes excuses like, "here, let's compare hand sizes." or "aren't you cold? let me warm up your hands for you." and proceeds to take both of your hands in his without waiting for a response because he just can't ask upfront. :(( (don't worry, he gets over it as the relationship progresses.) his GRIP on your hand is so noticeable LMAO. it's like he's afraid you'll disappear if he lets go.

he most definitely places kisses on your hand. 🙏🙏🙏 i'm talking regency era jane austen style kisses to your fingertips or palm, looking away with a visible blush. <33

• hear me out, considering his expertise in combat, this man has gotta have some beefy arms okayyy?? like, it's hard not to stare at them. and once he rolls up his sleeves, it's all over FR.

he does it without thinking at first, whether it's tidying up his cabin, strategizing battle plans, or sometimes just mindlessly sighing and rolling up his sleeves when something's on his mind. but he starts to notice how your gaze lingers on his forearms a little too long to be considered "normal", and once he figures it all out, he's having a whole field day with it.

basically, he makes a point to show off his arms around you whenever he could. it drives you crazy, and guess what? he's well aware of it. you know this given that he'll occasionally flash one of his rare jason grace smiles, which later transitions into a grin with a slightly raised lip. 🙏🙏🙏

• he's such a gentleman fr. even little things like holding open doors for you even if it means waiting a few extra moments, offering his sweater when you're cold without hesitation, or fixing up a plate for you during dinner, he's always trying to make life a little easier for you. <33

frank zhang

• frank gives the best bear hugs! (both literally and figuratively.) in the early stages of a relationship, he may come across as a bit awkward. not because he doesn't want to initiate anything, but rather because he's a bit unsure of himself. he takes his time to get to know you and build trust before stepping up his game and expressing his love in more obvious ways. as time passes, he becomes more comfortable and eases into the relationship at a sweet and slow pace, making sure to respect your boundaries and wishes. :((

he loves holding you and making you feel loved, so cuddles aren't uncommon. he takes care to express his affection in a way that makes you feels comfortable and appreciated!! he's always asking you, "do you feel alright?" or "is this fine?" because what may be okay one day might not be okay the next.

typically, he prefers to be the big spoon, but he's is also happy being the little spoon, because he believes that vulnerability and intimacy go both ways in a relationship!!

• frank has the ability to shapeshift into tons of different animals, and he uses this to his advantage while cuddling with you!! imagine waking up to find a cuddly koala bear clinging onto you protectively one day, and then the next day, holding a sweet and adorable tea-cup sized labrador puppy in your hands. the cuddling possibilities are endless!!

• your decision to date frank despite any challenges along the way has had such an impact on his self-esteem. like, seriously!! every word of praise you offer him is treasured, and he adores being around you; in fact, he flourishes in your presence. your encouragement has really made a difference in his life. <33

• he love, love, LOVES holding your hand!! he seems to find every opportunity to intertwine his fingers with yours, and in moments of stress or anxiety, he'll often tap or lightly pull on your hand as if seeking reassurance because your touch brings him a sense of comfort and safety.

• considering that frank's height ranges from 6'3-6'6, you're probably shorter than him. and yeah, he definitely utilizes his height advantage around you.

he loves by approaching you from behind and embracing you, regardless of your own height, and another plus is that he can easily lean down for a kiss!!

his height is particularly convenient around high shelves or objects that may be out of your reach. his height also provides a sense of protection and security for you because he can easily shield you from any harm that may come your way!

overall, 10/10 would date again.

a/n

WHY DO MY FICS KEEP GETTING LONGER AND LONGER LMFAOO.

i wanted to keep this fic relatively short but omg i could not fit everything i wanted in one post. part 2 maybe??

i love writing hc's because they're a lot more casual but my next post will probably be a regular oneshot. :))

xx, val.

[gardenwalrus]

David Ash, ‘Our Kind of Girl - By The Beatles’, Daily Express (21 Nov. 1963)

After the show, after the applause, what kind of girl do the Beatles think about in the loneliness of hotel rooms locked against the fans? [...] So I went and asked them: What is your kind of girl? [...] Paul McCartney, 21, told me: “It would be great to have the sort of girl who would darn my socks and cook apple pies and things.” Now that may sound like Platitude 1 (a) from the pop-star's handbook of ready-made quotes. But this McCartney I think says what he means. He continued: “She'd be attractive, but not the big show-biz personality type of girl, or one who's affected, or a dizzy dumb blonde. “She'd be intelligent - but not fantastically brainy, because I'm not - and interested in all kinds of music. Including mine.  “And she'd have to have the right sense of humour. Because we do have what someone called a sense of self-irony. And we laugh at all sorts of off-beat things.”

And physically…?  “I like girls to have long hair (it rhymes with 'her'), interesting eyes, and rather high cheekbones. But not turned-up noses. I have one myself, and it's put me right off them.  “I don't like Elizabeth Taylor-type looks. And I don't like exaggerated hour-glass figures. The figure doesn't matter all that much.  “I like girls in with-it clothes. But some girls look fantastic in just a dirty old sack. Indian girls look great in saris.”

John Lennon was looking around for a scotch. And his face, in serious moments like this, has the fear-neither-God-nor-man quality of a Renaissance painter's aristocrat. At 23, he seems the group's elder statesman. For he is married, with one baby. He talked. Huskily, cryptically. “My kind of girl is, of course, Cynthia. My wife. “I like her looks (she's fair-haired), her cooking; everything about her. I'm an extrovert, and she's the opposite.  “We are both indoor types - that's why I don't mind this life, being locked away behind doors. We live at our mum's or our auntie's or hotels. But wherever I'm with her is home. “People have said that every time she comes down to London to see me she is just trying to patch up our marriage. They say, 'You know what they're like in show business.'  “But that's not true of us. I don't happen to be showbusiness. I married before I was in it. And I haven't changed my mind since."  He added: “Of course, I notice other girls.”

George Harrison - at 20 he's the youngest and (some say) the handsomest - thought he preferred blondes. Smallish ones. Then he decided: "I don't go looking for any special sort of girl. She could be any age from 17 to 40. “I wouldn't like one who was soft (unintelligent). Or one who was terribly intellectual - I wouldn't know what she was on about half the time.  “I wouldn't mind if she were arty, hated pop and loved classical music  “Oh, yes, and I don't like girls with too much make-up.”

Ringo Starr’s sad eyes gazed thoughtful down at his drumstick-balancing fingers and the four rings on them - none of them with any marital significance.  “My girl would be just an ordinary sort of girl, but with just that something different for me,” he said.  “I wouldn’t care if she couldn’t cook very well. She could learn. But I don’t like sitting at home, so I’d want a sociable girl who’d come out every time I wanted to go out.”

Not one Beatle mentioned old-fashioned considerations like social status and family connections.  In their kinds of girl they all looked for a sense of humour, interest in their work, reasonable dress sense, and a complete lack of pretentiousness. 

[dollveis]

☆ ┆ SHE'S A LADY AND I'M JUST A LINE WITHOUT A HOOK. ellie williams — ❝ you can hold my hand if no one's home. ❞

CHAPTER 2 : i wanna be so much more. you help ellie with her studies and you start to grow fond of the auburn haired girl.

quick navigation .ᐟ series masterlist ⋆ next chapter

featuring. college!ellie x afab!reader content warning ! loser!ellie x popular!student, not really any warnings, mostly fluff, ellie is pretty awkward. 5.9k words.

❀ not much happening yet, this is mostly reader and ellie bonding, im just establishing their dynamic for now, from chapter 3 it's where things start to get interesting, trust

The following days pass in a strange, unfamiliar rhythm. People still whisper when you walk past, eyes lingering a little too long, like they're waiting for something, maybe confirmation, maybe denial or just a spectacle but you've mastered the art of not giving people what they want.

What you weren't expecting was Ellie Williams becoming a recurring presence in your life.

At first it's small things, you catch her watching you in the halls, eyes darting away the second you would look back; then it's the way she lingers near the places she wasn't before, the library, the main courtyard, the coffee shop off campus, never close enough to be obvious but obvious enough for you to notice. Then she finally starts talking to you, not a lot, just a word here, a sentence there, awkwardly mumbling ‘hey’ when you pass each other. She never pushes, never forces herself into your space, if anything she seems hesitant, like she expects you to tell her to fuck off at any moment.

You don't and you don't know why. Maybe because Ellie is easy to talk to in a way most people aren't, she doesn't expect anything from you, she doesn't pry into your life or asks questions she has no business knowing the answers to. Maybe it's because, for the first time in a long time, you're curious about someone, so you let it happen.

It's late when you see her again, tucked away in a far corner of the campus library, the space is quieter now, students having thinned out as the night dragged on. You were just about to leave, stretching out the tension in your shoulders from too many hours of studying, when you noticed her.

Ellie is slumped over a table, one hand buried in her already messy hair, the other one gripping a pen like it personally wronged her, a single notebook is open in front of her, pages scrawled with half written notes and little doodles in the margins– guitars, stars, something that might be a dinosaur. She looks miserable and before you can think better of it, you walk over.

Ellie doesn't notice you until you're practically next to her, she startles, looking up in mild panic, like she's been caught doing something she shouldn't, “uh,” she says intelligently.

You raise an eyebrow, “you look like you're in hell.”

Ellie blinks at you, then she glances at her notes like she forgot they were even there. She exhales, slumping forward onto her arms, “feels like it,” she mutters.

You glance at the page in front of her, it's a mess, half of it is indecipherable, scratched out words and arrows pointing at other notes that don't make sense, you take a seat across her without thinking, “what class?”

Ellie hesitates before sighing, “chemistry.”

You look at her, “the one you almost burned down the lab in?”

She groans, dragging her hands down her face, “Jesus Christ, you too? That was like… months ago.”

You smirk, “i'm just saying, not a great record,” Ellie just mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like ‘gonna kill Jesse’ before shaking her head and slumping further into the table. You don't know why, but the sight of her, clearly frustrated and exhausted, makes something in your chest tighten, you're used to seeing people at their best, their most polished. This is different. Real. “Alright,” you say, reaching for her notes, “let me see.”

Ellie stiffens, “what?”

“Your notes,” you say, already scanning them, “Jesus, Williams, how do you even read this?”

The girl next to you looks deeply offended, “hey, my system works.”

“This isn't a system,” you deadpan, “it's literally a crime scene.”

Ellie groans, rubbing her face, “you don't have to help me, y'know?”

You just shrug, “i know,” a beat of silence after your words and then you hear her mumble a quiet ‘thanks’ under her breath but you pretend to not hear it when she says it.

That night something shifts, you don't know what exactly, maybe nothing at all but when you're finally back at your dorm after helping Ellie your phone suddenly buzzes with a new message.

Unknown number

uhh hey it's ellie

i got ur number from the uni gc hope that's okay

It's fine

Unknown number added as Ellie W (uni)

cool cool

also thx for helping me earlier

ure scary smart

You smirk, hovering over the keyboard before typing.

Scary smart?

yeah like intimidatingly

but in a hot way

Your stomach flips at her text.

Did you just flirt with me through text?

attempted

did it work?

You bite your lip, staring at the screen.

Maybe :)

Three dots appear on the screen, then they disappear, then they come back. Ellie is hesitating. You smirk to yourself, settling back into your bed, phone warm in your hand.

fuck wait

hold on

i had something cool to say

give me a sec

Should i come back later??

NO

i got this

Sounds fake but okay

There's another long pause, you can practically picture her, sitting in her dark room, hunched over her phone, probably frowning at the screen like she's trying to solve a math equation instead of, you know, holding a basic conversation.

okay

um

so whats up

You blink, that's it? That's what she spent all that time coming up with?

Wow, that was worth the way

shut up

i panicked

You don't say

look im not good at this okay?

i don't text people

ever

So I'm the first?

… maybe

no actually wait that sounds weird

not like in a creepy way

just like in a normal way

if that makes sense

It really doesn't

fuck

You bite back a smile, turning onto your side, curling into your blankets.

Relax, I'm messing with you

oh

cool cool cool

i knew that

obviously

Obviously

You pause, watching the screen, wondering if she's gonna try again, if she's gonna give up, if she's gonna say something that makes this weird, the thought makes you regret even entertaining this idea.

A new message pops up.

u like music?

No. I hate it.

shit really?

Ellie.

oh wait ure being sarcastic

There you go

fuck off

Your grin widens, this is kind of fun.

What kind of music do you like?

oh umm

i dunno

stuff w guitars???

Wow, such an expert

ill have u know i play guitar

No way

yes way

Prove it

how the fuck am i supposed to do that over text?

Figure it out, Williams

There's a long pause, she doesn't type anything.

brb

You wait, confused, wondering if she's just given up entirely, then, out of nowhere, your phone buzzes with a voice memo. You hesitate before pressing play. There's some fumbling at first, the sound of fabric rustling, something being shuffled around, then a quiet, almost hesitant strum of a guitar. It's not perfect, some notes sound a little off, like she's nervous or playing too fast, but it's nice. Calming in a way.

After some silence, Ellie's voice comes through, soft and incredibly awkward, “uh yeah. So. That's a guitar. That i'm playing. Which is proof that i play guitar. Okay. Uhm. Bye,” the voice memo ends, you stare at your phone and you press play again.

Wow, truly masterful

shut up

No, really. The “uh” at the beginning? Inspired. The “bye” at the end? Groundbreaking

im blocking u

No, you're not

ure right

You bite back a laugh, staring at the screen, feeling something settle into place, something that feels weirdly easy, natural, like you've been talking longer to her than just a few days and some awkward words.

Do you always narrate everything out loud when you're nervous?

no

maybe

fuck off

Thought so

whatever

did u at least like it?

You pause. You could tease her again, could keep the back and forth going, watch her fluster herself into oblivion but then you remember the way her voice had wavered, how she sounded almost embarrassed, like she was second guessing herself even as she played.

Yeah, i did

You're good

────────────────────────────────────

Ellie doesn't text again for a few days after that message, which is… weird, not that you're waiting for it, not that you care but she'd been the one to start texting in the first place, and it's not like you shut her down or anything. So, what? Did she just change her mind? Decide she doesn't want to talk after all? The thought nags at you longer than it should.

By Thursday, you've convinced yourself you don't care.

By Friday, you're still thinking about it.

By Saturday, you're walking back to your dorm after grabbing a coffee when you spot her sitting outside one of the academic buildings, hunched over a sketchbook, a pencil tapping absently against her knee. The late afternoon casts long shadows across the pavement, catching in the strands of her messy auburn hair, her sweater is slightly too big, sleeves pushed up just enough to reveal a tattoo on her forearm and faint ink smudges along her wrist. She doesn't see you, you could keep walking, could ignore the small tug of curiosity in your chest, let her exist in her weird bubble of loser awkwardness. But against all logic, you don't.

“Hey, Williams,” you say, stopping in front of her.

Ellie jerks so hard she nearly drops her pencil, “Jesus— what— hi,” she stammers, looking up at you like she just got caught doing something illegal.

You raise an eyebrow, “that was dramatic.”

She rubs the back of her neck, already avoiding your gaze, “didn't uh— didn't see you.”

“No kidding,” she looks down at her sketchbook, then quickly shuts it as if you were about to snatch it out of her hands, you tilt your head, “you draw?”

Her shoulders shrug, like it's not a big deal, if like she's already prepared for some type of judgment, “kinda. Sometimes.”

You nod, studying her for a beat, then casually take a seat on the bench beside her and she immediately goes rigid but you pretend not to notice, “so,” you say, stretching out your legs, “you gonna tell me why you ghosted me?”

Ellie seems to choke on her own saliva, “what?”

You glance at her, “you heard me.”

“I— i didn't ghost you,” she insists, clearly panicking, grabbing her sketchbook like it was a lifeline.

You can't help but raise a brow, “oh? So you just happened to stop texting out of nowhere?”

She opens her mouth, closes it, open it again, then finally she sighs and mutters, “i didn't know what to say,” her words catch you off guard, you'd expect an excuse, a half assed attempt to brush it off, not honesty. Ellie shifts uncomfortably under your silence, fidgeting with the edge of her sleeve, “you're, like, really good at talking to people. And i'm uh. Not,” she says it almost like a confession, voice quiet, fingers still twitching the hem of her clothes.

Something tugs in your chest, you don't think before you move, you just nudge her foot lightly with yours, a small, barely-there tap. Ellie freezes, like, completely.

You fight the urge to laugh at her reaction, “relax,” you say amused, “i wasn't expecting poetic answers. You can just… talk. Or send tragic voice notes. Whatever works for you.”

Ellie exhales, low and measured, “you didn't mind that?” so quiet you almost miss it.

You shake your head with a soft smile at the corners of your lips, “no, it was cute,” and Ellie looks at you with wide eyes, if like you just told her the sky is green, then, almost instantly, she turns red, shoves her hands deep into her sweater and looks anywhere but you, you bite back a smile. It's actually impressive how red she is, her face flushed to the tip of her ears, like her skin is physically incapable of handling any kind for attention

“I– uh,” she stutters then stops, shutting her eyes for half a second before shaking her head like she's trying to reboot her entire system, “shut up.”

You blink at her, wide-eyed with feigning innocence, “i didn't say anything.”

Ellie scoffs with her eyes still not meeting yours, “yeah, well. You're thinking something.”

As an answer you hum, tilting your head, “maybe," she groans and tilts her head back against the bench, eyes shutting again like she's in actual pain, the reaction only makes your grin widen. “So,” you muse, studying her, “do you just malfunction every time someone's nice to you or is it just me?”

Ellie's head snaps back up, her green eyes narrowing in a glare, “i do not malfunction,” you flick your gaze to her hands, still jammed deep in her pockets, like she's physically restraining herself from doing something embarrassing. Then to the way she shifts in her seat, legs bouncing slightly, like her own body is actively working against her, you raise a single eyebrow, Ellie huffs, “okay, maybe a little.”

You laugh, shaking your head, “you're a bit of a loser.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she mutters with voice low, still flustered and awkward, still so very Ellie. It's weirdly endearing.

You stretch your arms out, tilting your head back to look at the sky, the air is crisp, that perfect in between of autumn-cool, enough to make you tuck your sleeves over your fingers, but not cold enough to be uncomfortable; leaves rustle in the breeze, spinning in lazy circles, across the pavement, the campus hums faintly in the background, distant voices, footsteps, the occasional sound of a car rolling by. The silence between you isn't awkward, it's easy, natural.

Still, you break it, “so,” you say, shifting slightly to look at her, “you drawing anything interesting?”

Ellie tenses subtly, her shoulders tightening, fingers curling inside her pockets, you almost expect her to completely dodge the question, but she exhales and mutters, “not really.”

You give her a skeptical look, “can i see?”

She stiffens, “uh– no.”

You smirk, “that bad, huh?”

Ellie scowls, “it's not bad.”

“Oh?” you lean in slightly, peering over her shoulder, “then, what's the problem?”

She immediately yanks her sketchbook against her chest like it's some kind of top secret government file, “personal.”

You can't hold a laugh, holding your hands up in surrender, “alright, alright, no sketchbook invasions today,” Ellie eyes you warily, as if expecting you to lunge for it at any second, you roll your eyes, “relax, i'll keep your little secrets.”

Another beat of silence, the breeze picks up slightly, carrying the faint scent of coffee from somewhere nearby. Ellie shifts beside you, and you can tell something is brewing in her head, something she's debating whether or not to say.

“I wasn't actually trying to ghost you,” she says quietly, you blink turning to her, Ellie isn't looking at you, her jaw is tight, her fingers twitching against the edges of her sketchbook. She exhales, like forcing the words out is physically painful, “i just– sometimes i don't know what to say. And i figured you probably had like… actual people to talk to.”

Something tugs in your chest, you don't know why, but the words sit strangely, like they hold more weight than Ellie wants to admit, “you're an actual person, Ellie.”

She shifts uncomfortably, staring down at her lap, “yeah but like… you know what i mean.”

You do.

You tilt your head slightly, studying her, it's not hard to piece together what she's saying, what she thinks is obvious. That you're popular, well liked, surrounded by people who actually belong in your life, that she isn't one of them. Which is funny, because for some reason you want her to be.

You nudge her foot again, this time softer, “i meant what i said, you know.”

Ellie hesitates, “about what?”

You meet her gaze, “i wanna talk to you.”

Her throat bobs and barely above a whisper, she says, “oh…” then silence. The wind stirs the leaves, somewhere in the distance you can hear some laughs, Ellie still hasn't moved, for a second you wonder if she's actually broken this time, like full system failure, but then she clears her throat and looks down again, fidgeting with her frayed sleeve, “uh, cool.”

She really is nervous, tapping her fingers against her sketchbook, bouncing her knee, shifting in place like she wants to run but also doesn't want to leave. The movement is restless, jittery, like an animal caught between fight or flight, her entire body radiates nervousness, shoulders hunched, muscles tight.

You watch her for a moment, amused, taking in the way her fingers drum against the worn cover of her sketchbook in uneven, erratic beats. She's always like this, you've noticed, always buzzing, always on edge, like she's just waiting for something to go wrong.

“You always this awkward?” you ask, lips twitching into a smirk, “or is it just me?”

Ellie groans, dragging a hand down her face like she's trying to physically wipe away the embarrassment, “i swear i used to be normal.”

You raise a brow, tilting your head, “used to be?”

She hesitates, mouth twitching as if she's debating if she should be honest. With a resigned sigh, she mutters, “okay, maybe not normal but like… less of a fucking disaster.”

You snort, shaking your head, “well, i think it's cute.”

Ellie chokes, like full on chokes. A sudden, violent cough that nearly knocks the wind out of her, she sputters, hacking into her sleeve, her grip loosening on her sketchbook enough that it almost slips from her lap, her entire face goes bright red once again.

For a second, you actually think you might need to call for help, “Jesus,” you laugh with wide eyes, “breathe, Williams.”

The girl waves you off, still coughing, trying, but failing, to regain composure, “i'm– fine.”

You smirk, taking a sip from your coffee, “if you say so.”

She exhales through her nose, shaking her head, “you really need to stop saying shit like that.”

“Why?”

Ellie finally looks at you again, cheeks still tinted with pink, lips parted like she wants to say something but thinks better of it. Her eyes flicker before she drops her gaze, rubbing the back of her neck, “because,” her voice quieter now, “some of us don't have the mental stability to handle it.”

“Good to know.”

She groans, slumping against the bench, like she's trying to disappear into it, “i hate you.”

You just smile, watching the way she avoids your eyes, watching the way she fidgets with the hem of her clothes. For a while neither of you say anything, it feels nice and comfortable.

Ellie isn’t fidgeting as much anymore. She’s still tense in that way she always seems to be but there’s a difference now, a slight shift, like she’s settling, even if just a little.

You check your phone, a message from Hana popping on your lockscreen, asking you to go back to the dorm, you sigh, shoving your phone back into your pocket, “i should go.”

Ellie sits up slightly, posture stiffening, like she wasn’t expecting that, “oh. Yeah. Right.”

You stand, slinging your bag over your shoulder, “try not to die of embarrassment while I’m gone.”

Ellie glares, but there’s no real heat behind it, “no promises.”

You laugh, stepping away, tossing one last glance over your shoulder, “see you around, Williams.”

Ellie hesitates, “…see you.”

You turn, heading toward the dorms building, the sound of your footsteps fading as you disappear into the crowd. Ellie watches you go, the way you move, the way you disappear into the blur of students, the way you didn’t hesitate when you said see you around.

Her fingers tighten around the edges of her sketchbook, her heart hammers against her ribs.

What the fuck is she supposed to do now?

──────────────────────────────────

You don’t hear from Ellie for the rest of the day, not in person at least, she lingers in your mind, though. The way she fumbled over her words, the way she reacted to the smallest bit of teasing, how she looked at you like she couldn’t believe you were actually talking to her, it’s funny, in a way. She’s so awkward, so bad at hiding how flustered she gets, but there’s something about her that keeps pulling your attention back.

By the time you’re back in your dorm, laptop open, trying to focus on notes for your upcoming test, you realize you’re waiting.

For what, exactly?

Your phone buzzes, and you don’t even have to check to know.

so

uh

hey

You fight a smile.

Hey

uh

how’s ur night

It’s fine

Studying

You?

same

Are you actually studying?

kinda?

does it count if i’m staring at an open textbook but not actually reading anything

Not really

shit

ok

well

i’m trying that counts for something right

Sure

There’s a pause, a long one, you assume the conversation is over since Ellie isn’t exactly the type to keep things flowing effortlessly but then your phone vibrates again.

do u wanna help me?

again…

Help you how?

with studying

y’know like the other day

since ur smart as hell and i’m dumb as fuck

I thought you were trying

i am

it’s just not working

That’s tragic

it really is

thoughts and prayers

Fine

But if I help you, you actually have to try

No half-assing it

deal

when

You glance at your schedule, thinking.

Tomorrow. Library, after class

ok

cool

yeah

see u then

Try not to fail before then, Williams

Ellie doesn’t answer right away, when she finally does, it’s short.

no promises

You put your phone down, smiling to yourself before getting back to your work.

──────────────────────────────────

The next day moves at its usual pace, classes, assignments, the endless rhythm of routine but there’s an undercurrent of anticipation beneath it all. You don’t acknowledge it outright, don’t let it settle too deeply in your thoughts, but it lingers at the edges, an unspoken thing that refuses to fade. Ellie Williams.

You’re going to see her after class. Alone. And it shouldn’t be a big deal, it really shouldn’t be. You’ve helped people study before and you've helped her before, you’ve spent late afternoons cramming for exams with friends, tutoring classmates who needed a little extra help, staying late in the library to go over notes with someone who begged for a last-minute review session. It’s normal, something you’ve done a hundred times before but this feels different this time. Maybe it’s the way Ellie looked at you yesterday, like she wasn’t sure if you were real, like she expected you to disappear if she blinked too long, or the way she texts, so hesitant, so careful, like she’s constantly waiting for you to decide she’s not worth the effort.

She intrigues you. You’re not sure why, but she does.

By the time your last class ends, the quiet weight of the library calls to you, you shift your bag over your shoulder as you walk through the door, the scent of old paper and printer ink familiar in a way that feels grounding. The hum of hushed voices drifts through the aisles, the occasional rustle of a turning page filling the space between them, you scan the room, eyes drifting past occupied tables, past students hunched over laptops and stacks of books, until you see her.

Ellie is already there, she’s easy to spot, tucked away near the back, hunched over a table like she’s trying to disappear into it. Her sweater is slightly too big, the sleeves bunched around her wrists, the fabric worn soft from years of use, a battered notebook sits open in front of her, but she isn’t even pretending to look at it. Instead, she’s flipping a pen between her fingers, staring off into space with an expression that’s equally distracted and vaguely troubled.

You approach, setting your bag down with a quiet thump before sliding into the chair across from her, “you look so studious right now,” you tease.

Ellie startles, her pen slipping from her fingers, it clatters against the table, rolling toward you before coming to a stop near the edge. For a second, she just stares at it, then at you, then back at the pen, like she’s trying to process what just happened, “uh,” she clears her throat, straightening slightly, “yeah. Totally.”

A smirk tugs at your lips as you pick up the pen, twirling it between your fingers, “i can tell you’re working very hard.”

Ellie shifts in her seat, rubbing the back of her neck, she looks guilty, like a kid caught sneaking candy before dinner, “i was, uh– about to start.”

You lean forward slightly, placing the pen back in front of her, your voice laced with mock sternness, “good, because if i’m wasting my time, i’m going to be very disappointed, Williams.”

Ellie swallows, “right. Yep. Got it. No time-wasting.”

You raise an eyebrow, “so, what do you need help with this time?”

Ellie exhales sharply, shifting her attention to her notebook, she flips a page, then flips it back, Hesitates, “um. Well. Pretty much… everything?”

You sigh, resting your chin in your palm, “Ellie…”

She winces, “okay, okay. Specifically? Chemistry again. And maybe… some math, and also, like, writing essays. But other than that, i’m totally fine.”

You stare at her, “so… everything.”

Ellie groans, slumping forward onto the table, “i’m so stupid.”

You roll your eyes, nudging her book toward her, “you’re not stupid, you just don’t try.”

She peeks up at you from where her head is buried in her arms, her voice muffled, “i do try,” you give her a look, “…okay, i try sometimes,” she corrects, lifting her head just enough to meet your gaze.

You smirk, pushing your own notebook toward her, “then let’s start now,” Ellie stares at it like it might catch fire in her hands.

“…Right,” she mutters, picking up her pen, “starting now.”

The first twenty minutes are painful.

Ellie can’t sit still to save her life, she shifts in her chair every few seconds, adjusting her position like the fabric is bothering her, she messes with her sleeves, rolling them up just to pull them back down again, her fingers tap erratically against the table, first a steady rhythm, then an impatient drumming. Every time she stumbles over an answer, she rubs the back of her neck, muttering something under her breath and through all of it, she keeps sneaking glances at you, like she’s waiting for the moment you’ll finally snap, shove your books into your bag, and leave her to figure this out alone.

You obviously don't, instead, you slow down, breaking the concepts into manageable pieces, rephrasing things when she stares at you blankly. She listens, kind of. Her eyes are on you, but you can tell half her focus is elsewhere, you catch her zoning out more than once, gaze fixed on your mouth rather than the equations in front of her.

After the fourth time she does it, you sigh and lean back in your chair, “Ellie.”

She straightens so fast it’s almost comical, like a kid caught slacking off in class, “yeah?”

You narrow your eyes, “did you hear anything i just said?”

Ellie blinks, and for a second, you swear you can see the exact moment her brain scrambles for an answer, “uh,” a pause, “yes?”

You tilt your head, unconvinced, “then explain it back to me.”

Ellie’s mouth opens, closes, she glances down at her notes where she’s written barely anything, then back up at you, “so…” she drags out the word, stalling, “the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell?”

Silence. You just stare at her, Ellie swallows, then gives you a weak thumbs-up.

You drop your head into your hands, “Jesus Christ.”

Ellie groans, dragging her palms down her face before slumping back in her chair, “i suck at this.”

“You don’t suck,” you mutter, rubbing your temples, “you’re just easily distracted.”

Ellie immediately sits up, offended, “i’m not distracted,” you arch a brow, “i’m not!” she insists, a little too quickly, she gestures vaguely at her notebook, where she’s written a grand total of three lines, “i just– my brain works different, okay? Like, sometimes i get it, and then other times my brain just says, nah, not today.”

You watch her for a moment, considering. She’s frustrated, more than she’s letting on, you can tell in the way her fingers tighten around her pen, the way she avoids looking directly at the textbook, like it’s mocking her. She wants to understand this, she’s just struggling to connect the dots.

With a sigh, you flip to a fresh page in your notebook, “alright, let’s try something different.”

Ellie watches as you start writing, her body leaning in slightly, like she’s trying not to seem too interested, her eyes flicker between your handwriting and your face, brow furrowing in concentration.

A minute passes before she mutters, almost like she doesn’t want to admit it, “…that actually helps.”

You glance up, surprised, “yeah?”

Ellie nods, then hesitates, “you– you don’t have to do all this, you know. I know you’re busy.”

You shrug, “i wouldn’t be here if i didn’t want to be.”

Ellie stares at you like she doesn’t quite believe it and bruptly, she looks away, ears turning pink, “oh. Cool.”

You fight back a smirk. She’s such a loser.

The next hour is… easier. Ellie still struggles, still groans dramatically every time she gets something wrong, but at least now she’s trying, she asks more questions, actually engages instead of letting her brain shut down completely. She fidgets less, too– still restless, still awkward, but at least she’s not actively trying to crawl out of her own skin.

By the time you both decide to wrap up, the library has emptied out significantly, the sun has set outside, the sky a deep navy, the overhead lights making everything feel quieter.

Ellie stretches her arms over her head, groaning, “i think my brain is officially fried.”

You smirk, gathering your things, “then my job here is done.”

Ellie watches as you sling your bag over your shoulder, rubbing the back of her neck again but this time, it’s different, like she wants to say something but can’t quite bring herself to.

You tilt your head, “what?”

She hesitates, “uh. Just– thanks. For, you know. Helping me not fail.”

You roll your eyes but smile anyway, “you’re welcome, Williams.”

Ellie ducks her head, shoving her books into her bag like she suddenly doesn’t know what to do with her hands, “guess i owe you one.”

You glance at her, amused, “you owe me two already.”

Ellie groans, dragging a hand down her face, “ugh, don’t remind me.”

You laugh softly, then gesture toward the exit, “c’mon, let’s get out of here before they kick us out.”

Ellie follows you out into the night, the cool air hitting your skin as the library doors shut behind you, for some reason, you don’t mind her company.

The air outside is crisp, the warmth of the day fading as the evening settles in, a cool breeze moves through the trees, rustling the leaves, carrying the faint scent of earth and distant cigarette smoke. The sky is caught in that in-between shade of blue, no longer the soft hues of dusk but not quite the full weight of night either, streetlights flicker on one by one, casting long, pale pools of light onto the pavement.

The two of you walk side by side, footsteps slow, unhurried. The quiet hum of campus fills the space between you, muffled voices from a group somewhere in the distance, the occasional car rolling past, the rhythmic clicking of someone’s bike chain as they pedal by.

It’s not an uncomfortable silence exactly, but there’s a weight to it, like something unspoken lingers in the air.

Ellie shoves her hands into her pockets, shoulders hunched, head ducked slightly forward, she looks weirdly tense for someone who just survived an hour of studying.

You glance at her, eyebrow raised, “you good?”

Ellie startles slightly, like she hadn’t expected you to say anything, which is ridiculous considering you’ve been talking to her for the past hour and a half.

“Oh,” she exhales, her breath visible in the cooling air, “yeah. Just–” she tips her head back slightly, gazing up at the sky, watching as the last traces of daylight bleed out into the dark, “i don’t know.”

You arch a brow, “that’s specific.”

Ellie huffs out a quiet laugh, low and breathy, “i mean, i just– it’s weird, i guess.”

“What is?”

She hesitates, then shrugs, “this. You. Hanging out with me.”

You blink, “we weren’t hanging out.”

Ellie scoffs, shooting you a look, “okay, well, you were helping me not fail, and I was making it as difficult as humanly possible. But still.”

You smirk, “you really think i’d waste my time if i didn’t think you were capable?”

Ellie makes a face, something between disbelief and mild panic. You can see the exact second your words register because the tips of her ears turn pink.

“I—i guess?” she clears her throat, looking away, kicking at a stray pebble on the sidewalk, “but, like, you didn’t have to. You could’ve just ignored me.”

You roll your eyes, “Ellie, you asked for help. I helped you. That’s how this works.”

“Yeah, but…” she hesitates again, dragging the toe of her shoe against the pavement, “you’re, like, you.”

You frown, “what does that mean?”

Ellie shifts, suddenly looking like she regrets speaking at all, “y’know,” she gestures vaguely, “you’re cool. And, like, normal.”

You stop walking, “Ellie.”

Ellie stops too, blinking at you, “what?”

“You do realize you’re a person, right?”

She furrows her brows, “Uh– yeah?”

“And that you’re not some loser at the bottom of the social hierarchy?”

Ellie’s expression twists, like she definitely doesn’t agree with that but isn’t sure how to argue it either, “i mean…”

You narrow your eyes, “Jesus Christ.”

Ellie rubs the back of her neck, “okay, I hear you, but also– ”

“Shut up, Williams.”

Ellie opens her mouth, then shuts it again, “…okay.”

You shake your head, amused, and start walking again, after a beat, Ellie follows. This time, the silence between you feels easier, the walk back is slower, more natural, the tension from before unraveling into something almost comfortable. Every now and then, you catch Ellie glancing at you like she wants to say something, but she never does.

By the time you reach the point where your paths split, she hesitates, shifting on her feet, the streetlight above flickers slightly, casting shadows across her face.

“So, uh,” she scratches absentmindedly at her forearm, eyes flickering to the ground, “guess i’ll see you in class.”

You nod, “yeah.”

Ellie hesitates again, then, in a rush, blurts out, “I’ll—i’ll text you. If i need, uh. More help.”

You smirk, “you mean when you need more help?”

Ellie groans, tipping her head back dramatically, “ugh.”

You laugh, taking a step back, “night, Williams.”

Ellie grumbles something under her breath, but she lifts a hand in a half-wave before turning, heading in the opposite direction. You watch her go for a second, then shake your head, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

What a fucking loser.

────────────────────────────────────

taglist!! : @ph4rmacyfa1rie @yasmilks @xaaaavleg @elliesgffrfr @sparkle-jump-rope-queen @liztreez @robinphobia @vahnilla

[prinvessdior]

Three times you ask Kinich for something and the one time he asks for something.

tags: first person soz, bff! Mualani, I forgot ab Ajaw lol, y/n has a vision, established relationship, first kiss, just cute as hell, ft. me trying to write romantic tension.

wc: 3.6k

a/n: idk,, i think he needs more fics but yes crossposted on ao3 still editing as well

feel free to leave me req or msgs for any charc <3!

◣──•~❉᯽❉~•──◢

I think this was the fifth time I had water up my nose this afternoon. Or maybe it was the sixth, definitely. My nose and throat burned as I gasped for air above the water. My surfboard flung up beside me with another slap of water to my face. I hoisted myself back up to sit over my borrowed board. Mualani let me borrow one of her old ones from childhood. Since I'd never been able to surf. I wrung out my hair over my shoulder. "This is so hard," I whined to Mualani who padded over on her own board over to me.

Mualani only laughed, laying down on her stomach, "You're doing fine for a beginner." I doubted it. "Keep practicing, maybe you could finally convince Kinich to come to swim." 

I snorted and rolled my eyes, "Yeah like that'll happen."  

Mualani giggled, "He's a lost cause. Maybe if you asked him nicely, he might change his mind," she teased, sending me a look with a knowing smile. 

"I don't think a simple 'please' will do the trick," I retorted, paddling my board backward in the shallows. "He'd probably just come up with some excuse like 'I don't want to get my clothes wet' or something, and then go back to what he was doing," I grumbled.

Mualani snickered. "He can be such a diva sometimes. It's like he's scared to have any fun. I don’t know how you can date a guy like that."

She was being dramatic. He wasn’t that bad. I’ve known practically everyone since I was a kid, I know the ins and outs. Kinich just.. more so liked to keep to himself. I didn’t mind it though it really seemed like we had just become really good friends now even after putting a relationship title on us. 

"Though I'm sure he'd do anything you asked," Mualani says with a nod

I quickly looked away.

"Don't be ridiculous," I mumbled, "Kinich doesn't listen to anyone, let alone me." I quickly looked away.

Mualani gave me a knowing smile. "Oh come on, don't pretend you haven't noticed the way he looks at you. That boy is absolutely smitten with you."

I tried to feign indifference, though my heart thumped in my chest. "He doesn't look at me any differently than he looks at everyone else."

Mualani raised an eyebrow. "Are you serious? He's practically drooling every time you're around. And he always insists on helping you with anything you need, no matter how menial."

I shifted uncomfortably in my waterlogged swimsuit. "That's just who he is. He's like that with everyone. He's just...a good guy." I don’t think I wanted to spill my guts with my best friend about my relationship just yet.

Mualani rolled her eyes. "You can be so clueless sometimes. Trust me on this."

I huffed, pushing my soaked hair out of my eyes. "Even if you're right, which you're not, I doubt he'd ever actually do anything about it. Kinich is too aloof to make a move."

Mualani smirked. "That's where I think you're wrong. I've seen the way he stares at you when you're not looking. That boy has it bad. If you ask me, he's just been waiting for the right moment.”

I narrowed my eyes with a laugh, "Sure, and dendro slimes will fly someday. Besides, I can't even imagine Kinich acting all romantic. He's too sarcastic and quippy for mushiness."

Mualani shrugged. "Maybe you should try giving him a hint then. See if he responds. I know he'd be all over you in a heartbeat if he thought he had a chance."

"I don't know, Mualani...he's always been so closed off. It wouldn’t feel natural."

Mualani grinned. "Well, you could always try being a bit more... flirtatious. Give him some nonverbal cues to let him know you're interested. A touch on the arm, a smile, a compliment, something like that. See how he responds."

"Yeah, nope," I said with a determined nod, I'd give up my pyro vision back to our archon before doing something as embarrassing as that.

“C'mon! What’s the harm in it?”

I gave Mualani a pointed look, “The harm is we’ve only been together three months.” 

Mualani groaned, “But you’ve been friends for years!” She emphasized by splashing me with water.

I splashed her back, “I don’t expect anything from Kinich, Lani, I’m fine with what we have now.” 

“Yeah, but, did you ask him that? Maybe he wants to be closer with you.” 

Okay, yeah maybe I hadn’t thought about that. I paused mid-splash attack. “Oh.” 

Another splash of water to my face, as I tipped sideways losing balance sitting on my surfboard. I tipped straight into the water making another splash for the seventh time. 

Mualani was laughing when I arose from the surface. “Just try it. It’s not like he’ll outright reject you.” 

I gave Mualani a glare, “I’m going to go change. I’m done learning today.” 

“Ouchie, you really know how to burn me.” Mualani sighs with a dramatic expression. 

“Insanity.” I mumbled padding back to the shore with my best friend trailing behind me. Still making dramatic plans about how to get my boyfriend to be more open. I was not listening as she rambled all the way back to my house. 

◣──•~❉᯽❉~•──◢

I liked living right beside the hot springs. Even the ones that weren’t heated were usually the ones I gravitated towards. Given that Natlan was already hot, I never remembered my normal body temperature being this hot before I received my Pyro vision. 

But right now, I think I was jealous of Cyro Vision users. Kachina had requested my help near her tribe. She wanted to collect flowers among herbs, and fruits for the traveler to help her gain enough confidence to enter into the night warden wars. 

But it was too hot, and I was craving a bath. Being drenched in sweat was horrible. I didn’t want to complain in front of Kachina so I continued to follow her, we’d strayed far from The Children of The Echo’s tribe. 

“Do you think this is enough?” I asked the smaller girl once we’d stopped near a stream. 

“Uh-! I-.. I think so!” Kachina reached her arms up to take the fruits nestled in my bag. I happily let her take it as I took a seat near the stream for a much-needed breather. 

“Great, I’m just gonna.. sit down for a while.” 

Kachina gave me a nod with a bright smile. Which in turn made me smile. I felt like a big sister whenever I was with Kachina. It made it better that she was so smart and easy to talk to. I closed my eyes as a gust of wind helped cool my sweltering face. 

Kachina sat down beside me, dipping her toes into the water. “Thank you for helping me today, I really appreciate it.”

I smiled, grateful for the respite. “Of course, Kachina. It’s the least I can do. The Traveler did so much for you.”

She nodded, her expression thoughtful. “Yeah, they really did. I wouldn’t have had the courage to join the Night Warden Wars without their support.”

We sat by the stream, the cool water lapping at my feet, and my mind drifted back to what Mualani had said the day before. Could it really be that simple? Just say please? I found myself lost in a whirlwind of emotions as the cool water of the stream rippled around me. 

“Y/n? Y/n!” Kachina’s voice broke through my reverie, pulling me back to the present.

”Huh.” I blinked, realizing she was talking to someone. I turned to see Kinich standing there, looking a bit awkward but smiling warmly. 

“Hey, Y/n,” he greeted, his voice a little uncertain. “Are you okay?”

I forced a smile, trying to shake off my embarrassment. “Oh, hey, Kinich. Yeah, I’m fine. Just, you know, dying of the heat,” I joked, fanning myself dramatically.

He chuckled, his eyes softening. “Yeah, it’s pretty brutal today.” He turned to me and narrowed his eyes. “Should you really be out here for much longer? You don’t look so good.”

Before I could respond, Kachina’s face fell, and she quickly apologized. “Oh no, I’m so sorry! I didn’t realize you weren’t feeling well. I shouldn’t have taken you so far.”

I shook my head, giving her a reassuring smile. “It’s okay, Kachina. I wanted to come out and help you. Really.”

She still looked worried, but I could see she was trying to believe me. I took a deep breath, deciding albeit hesitantly that if I were to test Mualani’s theory. Any time would be the best time “Kinich, could you please get me some water from the stream? I think it would help me cool down.”

To my surprise, he didn’t hesitate. Without a single sarcastic comment or playful tease, he nodded and walked over to the stream. The next thing I felt was the cool, wet rag on my forehead, and sighed in relief. Kinich's gentle touch was comforting as he helped me sit back down. My body was still cooling off from Natlan’s scorching heat.

"Thank you, Kinich," I said, looking up at him with a small smile.

He smiled back, though it was more a twitch of lips upwards, his eyes warm. "It was no problem at all. Just take it easy for a bit."

I nodded, leaning back into the grass. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Kachina watching us. She seemed to be trying hard not to look awkward, and I couldn't help but find it endearing.

"Are you okay, Y/n?" Kachina asked, her voice filled with genuine concern.

"Yeah, I think so," I replied, giving her a reassuring smile. "Just a bit... overwhelmed, I guess."

Kachina nodded, her cheeks flushing slightly. "You two are really cute together," she blurted out, then immediately looked like she regretted it.

Kinich chuckled softly, and I felt my own cheeks flush. "Thanks, Kachina," I said, trying to ease her embarrassment. 

She smiled, looking a bit more relaxed. "Well, if you need anything, I'm here to help."

"Thanks," I said, appreciating her kindness. "I think I'll be okay now."

Kinich gave my hand a gentle squeeze. "Just rest for a bit. I'll be right here."

I nodded, feeling a little lightheaded. Not from the heat though. As I leaned back, feeling the coolness of the rag on my forehead, my mind wandered to Mualani’s words. Maybe she was right.

◣──•~❉᯽❉~•──◢

A couple of days later, I found myself in Xilonen’s shop, surrounded by shelves filled with various trinkets and artifacts. The air was filled with the scent of herbs and old parchment, a comforting reminder of the past. Xilonen and I were busy organizing her shop, a task that felt both familiar and soothing.

“Thanks for helping out, Y/n,” Xilonen said, her voice warm. “I’ve been meaning to get this place in order for ages.”

“No problem,” I replied, placing a stack of scrolls on a nearby shelf. “It’s nice to catch up. We haven’t had much time together since the war ended.”

She nodded a hint of sadness in her eyes. “Yeah, things have been so hectic. But it’s good to see you. How have you been holding up?”

I shrugged, trying to keep my tone light. “I’ve been okay. Just trying to figure things out, you know?”

Xilonen smiled knowingly. “I get it. It’s been a strange time for all of us. But I’m glad you’re here. It feels like old times.”

We continued to work in comfortable silence for a while, the rhythm of our movements almost meditative. As we sorted through a box of ancient artifacts, Xilonen suddenly looked up, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “So, I heard a little rumor that you and Kinich are dating now. Is it true?” Probably from Mualani...

I felt my face heat up slightly but nodded. “Yeah, it’s true.”

Xilonen grinned. “I knew it! How’s that going? I mean, considering how Kinich… is.”

I chuckled, understanding what she meant. “It’s going fine, actually. He’s been really sweet and supportive. It’s still new, but we’re figuring it out.”

She nodded, her expression softening. “That’s good to hear. Kinich can be ahh.. how do I put this? Blunt? but he has a good heart.”

“Yeah, he does,” I agreed, feeling a warm glow at the thought of him. “He’s been really great.”

we continued to clean, the door to the shop opened, and Kinich walked in. His eyes immediately found mine, and he smiled warmly Again, just the hint of his lips turning at the corners. “Hey, Y/n,” he greeted, then turned to Xilonen. “Xilonen.”

“Hey, Kinich,” I replied, feeling a flutter of happiness at seeing him.

Xilonen gave him a playful look. “Didn’t expect to see Y/n here, huh?”

Kinich chuckled, scratching the back of his head. “Yeah, I was a bit surprised. What’s going on?”

Xilonen rolled her eyes dramatically. “Oh, so I can’t see my friend for a day? I asked Y/n to help me clean up since it’s been a while.”

Kinich nodded, looking a bit awkward. “Right, of course. Well, it’s good you both are here. I actually came by to let you know that someone from The Children of the Echos commissioned me for a project, so I don’t have much time to chat.”

“That’s great, What kind of project?” genuinely wanting to know

He shrugged, a small smile on his face. “It’s a bit of a mystery for now, but I’ll fill you in later.”

Xilonen smirked. “Always keeping secrets, huh?”

Kinich laughed. “Something like that. Anyway, I just wanted to say hi. I’ll catch up with you both later.”

It was the perfect time to test Mualani's theory further. I spotted an item on a high shelf that I couldn't reach and decided to ask Kinich for help.

"Kinich, could you please help me get that down?" I called out, pointing to a random scroll.

He stopped talking to Xilonen almost instantly and came up behind me. "Sure, what do you need?" he asked, his voice so, so close to my ear.

I pointed at the scroll again. "That one, right up there."

Without hesitation, Kinich reached over my head and grabbed it, his arm brushing against mine. He handed it to me with a smile. "Here you go."

"Thanks," I said, feeling a bit flustered by how quickly he had responded.

"No problem," he replied. "I have to go now, but I'll see you later." He turned to Xilonen and me, giving us both a quick nod. "Goodbye, Xilonen. Bye, Y/n."

"Bye, Kinich," we both said in unison as he left the shop.

As the door closed behind him, Xilonen turned to me with a curious look. "What was that? I've never seen Kinich act like that before."

I shrugged, trying to play it cool. "I don't know. Maybe he's just being extra helpful today."

Xilonen raised an eyebrow. "Extra helpful, huh? Well, whatever it is, it's definitely interesting."

I smiled,  Maybe Mualani was onto something after all.

“I should get going too,” I said, giving Xilonen a hug. “Thanks for today. It was really nice to catch up.”

"Oh yeah totally! I can handle the rest here. Also, come by anytime,” she replied, hugging me back. “Don’t be a stranger, okay?”

“I won’t,” I promised, smiling as I headed out the door.

◣──•~❉᯽❉~•──◢

I found myself back at Mualani’s place, surfboard in hand and ready for another lesson. Mualani was determined to teach me how to surf, and I was equally determined to make her proud, even if it meant a few more wipeouts.

“Hey, ‘Lani!” I greeted her, adjusting my swimsuit as I approached. “Ready for another round?”

Mualani grinned, her eyes always sparkling with excitement. “Always! But first, tell me have you been messing with Kinich? He’s been super quiet. More than usual.”

I laughed, setting my surfboard down. “Really? That’s funny. I’ve been testing your theory. It’s been interesting, to say the least. I really don’t think he’s reacting. He’s doing things any normal boyfriend would do.”

She nodded enthusiastically. “You absolutely need to keep it up. Yesterday he looked like he was going to explode.”

I snorted a laugh Mualani clapped her hands together. “Alright, enough talk. Let’s hit the waves!”We headed down to the beach, the sound of the ocean filling the air.

As we paddled out, Mualani and I chatted about everything and nothing, enjoying the easy flow of conversation. Suddenly, someone from the tribe called out to Mualani, needing her assistance with something urgent.

Mualani sighed, giving me an apologetic look. “Duty calls. Just focus on balancing on the board for now, okay? I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Got it!” I called, watching as she paddled back to the shore.

Left to my own devices, I paddled out to the shallow part of the water. I stood up on the board, feeling the gentle sway of the ocean beneath me. Balancing was tricky, but I was determined to get the hang of it. I took a deep breath, focusing on keeping my stance steady.

The sun was warm on my skin, and the sound of the waves was soothing.

My balance wavered, and I tumbled into the water with a splash. As I surfaced, sputtering and wiping the saltwater from my eyes, I heard a familiar voice.

"Having trouble there?" Kinich asked, a teasing smile on his face.

I felt my cheeks heat up with embarrassment. "Maybe just a little," I admitted, trying to laugh it off.

He chuckled, wading over to me. "Here, let me help you." He reached out, steadying me as I stood up in the water. His hands were firm but gentle, and I felt a bit more stable with his support.

"Thanks," I mumbled reeling from the taste of saltwater, feeling self-consciousness.

"No problem," he replied, still holding my surfboard, "Everyone falls sometimes. It's part of the learning process."

I nodded, appreciating his encouragement. "Yeah, I guess so."

He handed me the board, his eyes warm with amusement. "Just keep at it. You'll get the hang of it."

The sun glinted off the water as I turned towards Kinich, curiosity, and anxiety bubbling with the ripples of the water.

“Kinich,” I called out, voice catching the wind.

“Would you help me with this, please? I mean, with keeping my balance on the board?”

His gaze softened, and without a word, he nodded. With practiced ease, he dropped the surfboard into the water, and it settled with a small splash. Approaching me, he placed his hands gently around my waist, lifting me as if I weighed nothing.

My heart beat wildly, like drums against my chest—not just from the thrill, but from the intimate touch. Kinich’s hands lingered longer than necessary as he steadied me on the board, fingers warm against her skin through the thin fabric of my swimsuit. His grip was firm, yet tender, as though he was acutely aware of his strength and its effect.

“This good?” he asked, voice low, almost a whisper. It sent shivers down my spine, as I nodded, unable to find my voice. So instead I nodded, slowly.

Once Kinich was convinced Ihad found my balance, he slowly let go. For a few moments, I managed to stay upright, it was my triumph. But the waves had other plans. The board wobbled violently beneath my feet, and with a startled yelp, I lost my footing. In the blink of an eye, I grabbed onto Kinich, pulling him down with me. We both plunged into the cool embrace of the ocean. Breaking the surface, I wiped the water from my eyes, only to be met with the sight of a thoroughly drenched and disheveled Kinich. My initial shock dissolved into a fit of giggles. 

“I am so sorry!” I gasped between laughs, noticing the way his usually calm demeanor was replaced with a mixture of surprise a cute scowl. “You look... upset.”

Kinich’s expression softened, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smile. “Upset with you? Never.”

His eyes held mine, a glint of mischief playing in their sunsets. “Actually,” he continued, his voice low and sincere, “since you’ve been asking so politely, I thought I might as well ask the same... Can I please kiss you?”

Time seemed to pause as his words settled over. The world faded around us, leaving just the two of us in that perfect, sunlit moment. I barely managed a nod.

Kinich's lips met mine with a tenderness that took my breath away. The kiss was soft, almost hesitant as if he was savoring the moment, afraid it might slip away too soon. His hands, still resting on my hips, tightened slightly, pulling closer but never forcefully. 

I felt the warmth of his touch through the cool water, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on my revealed skin. The world around us seemed to fade, leaving only the sensation of his lips on mine and the steady rhythm of our breaths mingling. 

As the kiss deepened, Kinich's hand moved to cradle my face, his thumb brushing lightly against my cheekbone. It was a gesture of pure affection, a silent promise of his care and respect. I responded in kind, my own hands finding their way to his shoulders, feeling the strength and warmth beneath my fingertips.

When we finally pulled apart, he rested his forehead against mine, heavy breaths mingling in the space between us. Kinich's eyes searched mine, a soft smile playing on his lips. Before he frowned.

"Now please stop saying please," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the gentle lapping of the waves. "I can't take it anymore."

[rottenfyre]

Baby Targaryens as adults headcanon: how would they fall for you? How they are in a relationship in general?

characters: Jaehaerys, Maelor, Aegon III, Viserys II.

Jaehaerys doesn’t fall in love gracefully. No, he sees you once, maybe catching you out of the corner of his eye while he’s busy rolling them at Aegon or suffering through some royal function he doesn’t want to be at. His first thought? “Great. Another distraction.”

But something about you makes him pause, something makes him stare a little longer. And before he even understands it himself, the moment he lays eyes on you, in that deadpan, signature cold style of his, he mutters under his breath, “beautiful.”

Jaehaerys is different from other men in court. He doesn’t care to charm you, impress you, or, gods forbid, flirt with you. No, that’s Mealor’s job, with his smiles and "how are you this fine evening, my lady?" Jaehaerys? He just glares at you across the room, assessing. He doesn’t need to court you. You’re already his—he decided that five minutes ago. Now he’s just waiting for you to realize it.

If he ever does try to flirt, it's the most awkward, detached, disastrous thing you’ve ever witnessed. He’ll stare at you for a bit too long and say something like, “Your hair... it’s fine, I suppose.” Or worse, “You don’t annoy me as much as everyone else.”

It’s so unintentionally rude that you almost laugh—but he’s dead serious, just standing there, completely oblivious to how bad he is at this.

It doesn’t help that Jaehaerys is unreasonably attractive. He’s taller than his father, with that same Targaryen beauty, but he’s always looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. People fall all over themselves around him, but he just rolls his eyes. When you don’t, he’s intrigued. It’s almost like a challenge to him. Why aren’t you impressed? he wonders, eyebrows raised. You’re not supposed to be immune to him.

Aegon, his one and only friend (though Jaehaerys would never admit it), notices Jaehaerys watching you with a bit more interest than usual and teases him endlessly. Jaehaerys, tired of the teasing, the world, and quite frankly, of you for making him feel something, just glares and says, “Shut up, Aegon.”

Aegon keeps poking him, though. “You like her, don’t you?” And Jaehaerys’s face twists in annoyance before he just groans, “Gods, Aegon, leave me alone. I just want to sleep.” Which, funnily enough, is his attitude about everything. He’d much rather be napping than dealing with feelings.

Most lords would play the long game, trying to win your favor, doing all the polite things. Jaehaerys? Nah. He doesn’t care. He sees you, he wants you, and that’s it. End of story. He walks up to you one day, fully expecting the conversation to end in you being his.

His approach? Straightforward and blunt: “We’re going to wed. That’s not a question.”

You’re stunned. “Excuse me?”

“I'm in love with you,” he says flatly, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world, “So you’re mine now.”

There’s no pleading, no coy smile. He’s already made the decision for both of you.

He’s deeply annoyed by the fact that he even has feelings for you. He’ll be sitting in his chambers, brooding, trying to read, but all he can think about is you. He scowls, tossing the book aside. “Why?” he mumbles to himself, irritated. “Why do I even care?”

He’s annoyed that you’ve distracted him, that you’ve taken up residence in his mind, and yet, he’ll spend hours watching you from afar. He won’t admit it, but you’re the only thing that makes him not hate everything for a little while.

The moment you show interest in someone else? Forget it. Jaehaerys is right there, appearing out of nowhere like some shadowy ghost. He’ll stand between you and anyone who dares approach, giving them a cold, dismissive look. And he’ll say, in that cutting, dry voice of his, “She’s not interested.” He doesn’t even ask how you feel—he’s already made the decision for you.

People often comment on how lucky you are to have caught Jaehaerys’s eye, because—let’s face it—he’s gorgeous. But the moment he opens his mouth? Everything gets awkward. He’s either blunt, rude in the most polite way, or just plain dismissive. You’ll walk into a room, and someone will say, “You look beautiful today.”

Jaehaerys, overhearing, just rolls his eyes and mutters, “She looks beautiful every day. Obviously.” Then adds under his breath, “Can we leave now?”

The thing with Jaehaerys is, once he decides he wants you, there’s no escape. Not in a creepy way, but in a he-will-not-leave-you-alone way. He’ll suddenly be everywhere—at your side, giving you that I’m-annoyed-but-interested look. And when you try to argue, he just cuts you off with, “Don’t bother. I’ve already decided. You’re mine.”

You realize, in a strange, funny way, that it’s almost comforting—knowing that once Jaehaerys chooses something (or someone), he’s completely devoted. Even if he’s the most sarcastic, emotionally unavailable person on the planet, he’s yours.

Maelor has an unmatched talent for getting into trouble, but the way he struts into it is almost impressive. He’ll walk into a room, compliment someone on their ridiculously oversized hat, steal the silverware off the table, and wink at you on the way out like it was all part of some grand performance. When you ask him why he does these things, he just shrugs and says, “It’s called living, love. Try it sometime.”

Flirting is basically Maelor’s second language. He’ll start with something overly dramatic, like, “You, my dear, are the moon to my drunken stumbles,” and before you can even roll your eyes, he’s convinced the entire room that you’re madly in love with him. Even if you’re not. Especially if you’re not. When you point this out, he grins and says, “Can you blame them? Look at me.” (He’s very humble.)

Maelor does not believe in subtlety when it comes to his wardrobe. He’ll walk into a council meeting wearing a deep purple silk tunic, velvet cape, and, of course, his beloved golden earring. He’ll probably have a feathered hat, too, just because he can. When you tell him he’s dressed like he’s going to a festival and not, you know, preparing for day, he’ll just smirk and say, “I know, I’m practically a walking work of art.”

You’d think Maelor’s silver tongue would be infallible when it comes to flirting. But when he really likes someone, the smooth talk disappears. He’ll go from “You’re the most stunning creature in Westeros,” to “You…uh…have very…nice shoes? I guess.” The more he likes you, the worse it gets. You’re watching a man who can talk his way out of a dragon’s mouth completely lose it because he can’t think of a single charming thing to say.

Maelor has a special talent for vanishing from the scene of his crimes just in time, leaving you in awe of his ability to slip away right when things go south. Whether it’s after “borrowing” a lord’s prized horse or sweet-talking his way into a highborn feast, he’s gone with a blink and a laugh. He’ll reappear later with a cup of wine and a grin, saying, “Hello darling.” (He never learns his lesson because somehow, he never gets caught.)

Maelor loves wine. And not just a casual love—he’s borderline obsessed with it (worse than his father). At every meal, he’s got a goblet in hand, and he’s always trying to top yours up like you’re both on some extended holiday. “You haven’t lived until you’ve had this vintage,” he’ll say, pouring you a cup while simultaneously swiping an entire bottle for later. If you ask him why he always has to drink, he’ll flash a charming grin and say, “Life’s too short to be sober.”

Maelor flirts with everyone—it’s just who he is. But with you? There’s a sincerity behind his teasing that isn’t there with anyone else. When he calls you “gorgeous” or “darling,” it’s not just part of his game—it’s real. And when he flirts with others in your presence, it’s to get a rise out of you, just to see that flash of jealousy in your eyes. “What’s wrong? You know you’re my favorite.”

That golden earring he’s so proud of? He thinks it’s the height of fashion. He’ll casually flip his hair just so it catches the light, and if you compliment him on it (even sarcastically), he’ll give you a knowing look like you’ve just confirmed his suspicions of being the most fashionable man alive. He’ll say, “Ah, you’ve noticed. I knew you had taste.” You can’t even tell if he’s joking or not.

Maelor loves pulling pranks and stealing random things, but he’s the worst at being subtle about it. He’ll swipe a coin purse or a golden goblet, only for you to see it sticking out of his coat five minutes later. When you point it out, he’ll just laugh and say, “Oops. Must have slipped in there.” He’s too charming to be mad at, and he knows it.

When Maelor really likes you, he becomes an absolute disaster. His usual suave lines turn into awkward stumbles. “You…uh, look nice. I mean, not that you didn’t look nice before, but like…yeah.” You watch him go from the most confident man in the room to someone who can’t even make eye contact. It’s adorable, really, watching him struggle to be smooth when he’s head over heels.

One moment, Maelor is all smiles and teasing, and the next, he’s quiet, watching you with a calculating gaze. It’s like he’s always thinking three steps ahead, figuring out how to get you closer to him without you even realizing it. When he’s like this, he’ll casually brush a hand against yours, lean in just a little too close, and murmur something so soft it’s almost dangerous: “You know you’re the only one who can keep up with me, right?”

Maelor’s idea of a “cunning plan” usually involves a lot of improvisation and almost no foresight. He’ll convince you to help him steal something valuable or sneak into a lord’s private party, assuring you he has it all figured out. Spoiler: he does not have it all figured out. But somehow, through sheer luck and charm, it always works out. “See? Told you I had a plan,” he’ll say with a grin, as if you both weren’t two seconds away from disaster.

Maelor doesn’t get jealous in the traditional sense, but he’s definitely possessive in his own subtle way. If someone else is flirting with you, he’ll step in with that dazzling smile and start charming them instead, all while keeping you close. “You’re coming with me, love,” he’ll say smoothly, completely unbothered by the competition. And when he steals you away, he’ll shoot you a knowing grin, as if to say, “You’re mine, and we both know it.”

If there’s one thing Maelor loves, it’s teasing you. He’ll steal something of yours, just to watch you get flustered trying to get it back. “Looking for this?” He’ll dangle it in front of you with that mischievous grin, his eyes sparkling with amusement. But as soon as he sees you getting genuinely upset, he’ll soften, handing it back with a playful wink. “Alright, alright, here you go. I’m only teasing, darling.”

Maelor steals more than just gold—he steals hearts, too. You didn’t mean to fall for him, but it’s hard not to when he’s always pulling you into wild adventures and making you laugh. You’ll be fuming because he just got you both chased out of a tavern, but then he’ll look at you with those pretty eyes and that teasing smile, and suddenly you’re not so mad anymore. He knows it, too. “I’m irresistible, admit it,” he’ll say with a wink.

Maelor can flirt, trick, and outsmart most people, but when it comes to saying goodbye? He’s the worst. He’ll tell you he’s leaving for a trip, only to sneak back into your chambers hours later with a bottle of wine and say, “Miss me yet?” It’s impossible to get rid of him, and honestly, you’re not even sure you want to anymore.

Aegon is the definition of effortlessly charming, with that roguish smile and easy-going nature. He’s the type to charm everyone at court without even trying, and half the time, he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. So when he falls for you, it’s not because he’s trying to win you over—he’s just being his usual, flirtatious self, flashing you that cheeky grin and thinking, “Well, why wouldn't you fall for me?”

Aegon doesn’t flirt. He exists and somehow, people think he’s flirting. He could be talking about the weather, and it would still sound like the most seductive thing you’ve ever heard. When he meets you, it’s no different. “You look lovely today,” he says casually, while inside, he’s mentally patting himself on the back for keeping it smooth. But he’s secretly freaking out because, for once, he actually wants to impress someone.

Aegon is normally laid-back, but with you, it’s different. He catches himself staring at you all the time, whether you’re in the middle of a conversation or just passing by. He’ll be sitting in court, pretending to pay attention, but all his focus is on you. And when you catch him staring, he’ll just wink and give you a little smirk, like it was totally on purpose.

Aegon is a very physical person, and once he decides he’s into you, that’s it. He’s always finding ways to touch you, whether it’s a hand on your back, a playful nudge, or just casually throwing an arm around your shoulders. It’s his way of saying, “Hey, I’m into you,” without actually saying it. And if anyone else tries to get too close? Aegon’s immediately at your side, leaning in close and making sure everyone knows who you belong to.

Aegon is a sweet-talker through and through. He’s always showering you with compliments, and the thing is, they sound genuine. You’ll be sitting there, minding your own business, and he’ll just pop up with, “You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen, you know that?” And you know he’s probably said it to a dozen people before, but somehow, with you, it feels different—like he actually means it.

Subtlety is not Aegon’s strong suit. If you’re trying to play it cool or make him work for it, forget it. He’ll take your coy responses as a challenge, and instead of backing off, he’ll just double down on the charm. “Playing hard to get, huh? I love that.” He thinks it’s all part of the game, and he’s having a great time, completely oblivious to how flustered he’s making you.

Aegon has big golden retriever energy. He’s the type who gets excited about everything, especially you. If you say something even remotely interesting, his face lights up, and he’s instantly hooked. “Wait, say that again? That’s amazing!” He’s like a puppy, hanging on your every word, and it’s almost impossible to stay mad at him because his enthusiasm is so infectious.

Aegon’s usually the easy-going type, but if someone else shows interest in you? Oh, he’s stepping in real quick. He’s not possessive in a creepy way, but he’s definitely the kind of guy to slide in next to you with a bright grin, casually draping an arm over your shoulder and making very clear that you’re his. “Hey, love, everything alright here?” He says it with a smile, but his eyes are daring the other person to try something.

Aegon is rarely serious, always cracking jokes and making light of situations. But when he’s with you, sometimes the jokes stop, and he’ll get this intense look in his eyes. He’ll brush a strand of hair behind your ear and say something like, “You know you mean the world to me, right?” And it’s so sincere and unexpected that it catches you off guard. Just when you think he’s nothing but playful charm, he hits you with a moment of real vulnerability.

Underneath all the flirting and jokes, Aegon is deeply loyal. Once he’s decided that he’s yours (and you’re his), he’s all in. He might be playful with others, but with you, it’s different. He’s always there when you need him, ready to drop everything for you. And despite how easy-going he seems, he’s serious about his feelings for you. You’ll never have to wonder where you stand with him, because he’s always making it abundantly clear how much you mean to him.

Aegon loves grand gestures. He’s the type to show up at your window in the middle of the night with flowers, or whisk you away for a spontaneous trip, just because. He’ll leave little notes for you, filled with sweet, silly messages like, “I’m thinking about you. Don’t miss me too much.” He may act like a carefree person, but when it comes to you, he’s an absolute romantic at heart.

Aegon’s favorite thing in the world? Making you smile. He’ll go out of his way to do it, whether it’s through jokes, playful teasing, or simply being his charming self. He’s the kind of guy who, if he sees you upset, will drop everything to make you laugh. And once he’s got that smile out of you? Mission accomplished. You’re his world, and he’ll do anything to keep that smile on your face.

Viserys is the grounding force in Maelor’s whirlwind of trouble and adventure. While Maelor is off flirting, tricking, and scheming, Viserys is the calm, steady one, always there to clean up the mess. He watches from the sidelines with a soft, knowing smile, ready to step in when things go too far. Maelor often drags you into his escapades, but it’s Viserys who quietly ensures you’re safe. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you both survive Maelor’s next ‘great idea.’”

Viserys is the type to care deeply but silently. He’s not the type to loudly declare his feelings, but his actions speak volumes. He’ll subtly make sure you’re taken care of, always offering help without you having to ask. Whether it’s making sure you’re comfortable during a long journey or pulling you out of one of Maelor’s risky games, Viserys is always there, quietly protecting you. He’ll brush it off with a modest smile, saying, “It’s nothing,” but you know better.

When Viserys falls in love, he falls hard. He doesn’t do things halfway—once he’s set his heart on you, that’s it. You’ll notice how his attention lingers on you more than anyone else, how he’s always looking out for your needs before his own. He’ll give you his full attention, listen to everything you say, and remember the smallest details about you. It’s not dramatic or flashy, but it’s deep and unwavering. “You matter more to me than you realize.”

Viserys and Maelor are a duo that’s practically inseparable. While Maelor is the mischievous troublemaker, Viserys is the one who always steps in to help him out of sticky situations. Maelor gets himself into ridiculous trouble all the time, but Viserys is the one who makes sure things don’t go completely off the rails. “Honestly, Maelor. What did you do this time?” He’ll say it with a sigh, but there’s affection in his eyes as he helps his best friend out yet again. It’s a relationship built on deep trust, and you’re often caught in the middle of their dynamic.

Viserys’s love is soft and gentle. He’s not the type to overwhelm you with grand gestures, but he’ll show his love in small, meaningful ways. He’ll remember the way you take your tea, ensure your favorite book is waiting for you after a long day, and offer a reassuring smile when you need it most. His presence is soothing, like a steady flame that never burns too bright but never wavers either. “I’m here for you, always.”

Viserys is smart—incredibly so. He’s the one who sees ten steps ahead, the strategist who quietly observes and plans, ensuring that no one can outwit him. When Maelor’s wild schemes start spiraling out of control, Viserys is already two steps ahead, subtly pulling strings to fix everything. With you, he’s just as attentive, always knowing what you need even before you realize it. “You’re more predictable than you think, but I like that about you.” He’ll say with a teasing smile, his eyes warm with affection.

There’s something about Viserys that’s endlessly comforting. He’s the rock in a storm, the one who remains calm no matter how chaotic things get. When Maelor’s antics get overwhelming or life becomes too much, Viserys is there, offering quiet support. He doesn’t need to say much to make you feel at ease—just being near him is enough. His hand on yours, the way he softly says your name—it’s like everything is okay again.

Viserys is an excellent listener. He’ll sit with you for hours, listening to everything you have to say with genuine interest, no matter how trivial it might seem. He makes you feel heard, like every word you say matters to him. He doesn’t interrupt or offer advice unless you ask—he’s just there, present and engaged. “I’m always here to listen, you know that.”

Viserys’s loyalty is absolute. Once he’s decided he cares for you, there’s no changing his mind. He’s fiercely protective of the people he loves, though he does it in a quiet, understated way. If anyone tries to harm you or Maelor, Viserys won’t hesitate to step in, but he’ll do it with such calm precision that no one will see it coming. He’s the kind of person who would go to great lengths to protect you, without ever needing to brag about it. “You don’t need to worry. I’ll always take care of you.”

Viserys may not be as overtly flirty as Maelor, but he has his own way of showing affection. He’ll give you knowing looks from across the room, say something that seems innocent but has a deeper meaning, and brush his hand against yours just enough to send a shiver down your spine. It’s all so subtle that you might not even realize he’s flirting until you catch the way he smiles when you blush. “You’re adorable when you’re flustered.”

Once Viserys falls in love, everything he does starts to revolve around you. He’ll prioritize your needs over his own, making sure you’re comfortable, happy, and safe. He might not be as vocal about his feelings as some, but the way he makes you his priority in every situation speaks volumes. “Your happiness matters to me more than you know.”

Viserys rarely gets rattled. While Maelor might be loud, dramatic, and prone to theatrics, Viserys remains calm and collected in nearly every situation. It takes a lot to get under his skin, and he’s always the one diffusing tense moments with a soft word or a calm demeanor. Even when Maelor gets himself into the wildest situations, Viserys never loses his cool. “I expected this from you.” He’ll say with a sigh, shaking his head fondly.

When Viserys finally admits his feelings, it’s like a dam breaking. All of the quiet affection he’s been holding back comes flooding out in soft, earnest confessions. “I didn’t want to say anything because I wasn’t sure… but I can’t keep this to myself anymore. I love you. Deeply.” His love is steady, unwavering, and all-consuming in the best way possible. Once he’s yours, he’s yours completely, and there’s no turning back.

Maelor and Viserys are best friends through thick and thin. Maelor might be the more adventurous one, but Viserys is always there to support him. He doesn’t get involved in Maelor’s schemes for the thrill—he does it because he cares. And even when Maelor gets them into trouble, Viserys never holds it against him. It’s the same with you—once Viserys cares about someone, his loyalty is unshakable.

Viserys’s romantic gestures are thoughtful and subtle. He doesn’t go for grand displays of affection but instead does things that show how much he knows and cares for you. He’ll leave your favorite flower on your pillow, write you a heartfelt letter when he’s away, or make sure you’re always warm on a cold night. It’s not about impressing you—it’s about making sure you feel loved every day. “I don’t need to shout it from the rooftops. You should know by now how much you mean to me.”

@ 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒏𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍 𝟐𝟎𝟐��. 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒚, 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒆𝒃𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔.

[meganegatari]

heh.. okay, so you asked for different.. rubs hands together villaniously as i materialize from the bottomless shadows..

sub!vampire!ellie biting/bloodsucking denial.. reminding her how much of a good girl she needs to be even when your wrist is practically just brushing past her lips to cradle her face.. or when the weakest bead of blood is pricked from your finger.. flaunting it.. teasing.. goddess bless throw in whatever else you see fit freakmaster

TEMPTATION WAITS

before you read! ▪︎ my masterlist ☆: co-president...this is absolutely divine...shoulda seen the way i dropped everything for this im literally #TWEAKING. new fav thing i've ever written methinks. title song. (vibes aren't there but the title was too good.) ps: if you spot any typos i wrote this with one hand. KIDDING...or am i? divider creds—cafekitsune. ◇: not outright smut, but still suggestive!! and nsfw is described. fluffy end bc i think she earned it, lore sprinkled in because why nawt it's interesting, finger sucking (e! receiving), this is maybe a lil ooc idrc, she's described as looking quite ill in her vampiric form + begs like her century long life depends on it fr, (but also has a bit of an attitude, it issss ellie after all), mean!r, talk of blood/previous bite wounds. ++ 3.3k wc. doesn't need to be that long but atp? take it or leave it LOLL. filing under "oneshots" bc it's way more than usual reqs hehe.

“Please, baby. Just one taste. I'll do anything.” Desperate, shaky pleas spilled from Ellie, her voice noticeably tired from the effort. She's been at this for what felt like forever now, and you were getting tired of ignoring her. Or rather, a little bored.

She was kneeling on the wooden floor by your bed, fisting the creased sheets, trying to capture your attention. The shimmering moonlight was dancing on her features as if it was a sparkle of fireflies, making her oddly colored eyes appear to glow, and highlighting her sickly appearance.

In her vampiric form, her skin was tinted a ghostly—even chalky—white, barely a smidgen of blush dancing on the apples of her cheeks. Her eyes shifted from their original grassy green to a peculiar duochrome blend of emerald and ruby. She really looked unwell, but you knew it was merely a product of circumstance, her gloomy fate.

Ellie donned somber dark circles around her eyes, her lips withered, pale, and thin as a piece of tissue paper. Just behind them though, rested two deadly weapons of her very own—sizeable, razor-sharp, gleaming ivory canines reflecting the scarce lighting as if they were made of mirrored glass.

For the first time tonight, you met her gaze, assuming an unbreakable poker face. Her keen sight could pick out the most subtle of twitches, so you learned to defeat that. The moment you met her line of sight she perked up, her eyes widening in glee, you had finally acknowledged her existence after so long.

Scooting forward you placed yourself right in front of her still kneeling form, sitting so she was in between your legs, but she wasn't allowed to touch you until you said so. What torture.

She began again, “Can I do something to make you change your mind? I'll do anything. Anything in the world. I'll make you feel re-really good, and then I won't ask again…ever even, if that's what you want. Just please let me…I'm so thirsty.” She was rambling a million miles a minute, slurring her words and cutting herself off with hiccups, stuttering like was having a nervous breakdown.

Her chest heaving up and down was visible to you despite the dim surroundings, and you could just make out her facial expression—a pained grimace, as if she was experiencing all of humanity's greatest suffering. When you didn't reply but stayed observing her blankly, she sighed and hung her head in shame, you almost felt bad. Almost.

You extend a hand, twirling a strand of her hair—previously silky and vibrant, now as lifeless and dull as charred hay—and you feel her relax under your touch. You continue raking your fingers through her locks, scratching her scalp with your nails, and you hear her exhale forcefully. She's likely overwhelmed by your scent—it's invigorating, fresh, and full of life.

“Have you been good?” You pipe up with a voice colder than ice, softly caressing the flesh of her tense cheek, and letting your fingertips travel to the underside of her chin. You gently tilt her head up, noticing the way her eyelids flutter to a close. She's soaking up the heat radiating off of you, making sure to feel the sensations of your skin brush against hers as much as she can, commit them to memory for when she's apart from you.

Her lips part, allowing for hushed, woeful whimpers to pour out, and she instinctively bites her bottom lip to quiet herself. Only she forgets about the powerful daggers in her mouth, and almost pierces right through her own skin.

Taking notice, you tut at her, warning clicks of your tongue bouncing off the room’s walls, contrasting the dead of night’s eerie silence. Tsk, tsk, tsk. You push the pad of your thumb down on the plush of her lip, angling her jaw side to side, examining those killer gnashers she's got.

“You could hurt yourself with these y'know, be careful.” Her eyelids flicker open, she's staring up at you with the biggest doe eyes she could muster, somehow all while maintaining such a strong glare you feel as if she's trying to challenge you.

“I'll decide if you can have some, as long as you're good, and you let me have some fun first. Alright?” You explain in a neutral tone, earning a cute “mhm” of confirmation from the undead being before you. “Good girl.”

You slowly slip your thumb into her mouth, avoiding her fangs at all costs, and you let her wrap her slippery tongue around your digit, watching how her cheeks hollow and her eyes roll ever so slightly while she sucks, moaning as she takes in your taste—nothing more than just skin.

You chuckle at her desperation, revel in the power dynamic you have created. “Mmm, you taste so good, so sweet.” She mumbles, swirling her tongue around your thumb, coating the entirety of it in her spit. You allow it for now, but soon enough, to no surprise, she slyly tries to shift to the side in preparation to slice you and get her treat.

You sharply retract your hands from her, removing your finger from her mouth with a pop, disappointed by her greed, her audacity. She turns to the side and pouts, huffing and rolling her eyes with more attitude than a moody teen. “What did I say?” You calmly hiss at her. She whispers, almost inaudibly, “Sorry…taste so good, can't help m’self.” Her voice wavered, and the moonlight illuminated the faintest tinge of red across her features, it was nearly invisible.

But you could tell exactly what was up. She shifts uncomfortably in her spot, grunting with laughable, pitiful attempts to rub her thighs together, fingers toying with the cloth of her pants, putting her frustration on full display. You looked at her struggle, unable to contain your grin.

It was a different kind of high, seeing such a feared and fabled beast kneel before you in such a pathetic manner, but it turned you on like nothing else. It was also evident she enjoyed it as well, no matter how much she didn't want you to be aware of the fact. The extent to which she worships you and handles your body, the way she was willing to beg and let you order her around showed just how much you meant to her—it was beautiful in its own way, how devoted she was to you. You were her person.

The fact she couldn't stifle her desire anymore after all this time suggested a shift in the atmosphere of your wicked games, the tension in the air was getting impossibly thicker, and you were loving every second of it.

Ellie, you've got a short memory.” You tease, then gesture to the gauze wrapped around your forearm, protecting two puncture wounds left by none other than her just the previous night. She looks at it and cocks an eyebrow, grouching, “Yeah, I see that, what about it?” The husky edge to her voice had returned, the defiant attitude you loved to crack was back in full force.

“Hundreds of years old, you even have memories of wars, and you can't remember what happened, like, 24 hours ago? Wow…” Your voice is so patronizing, it's unpleasant and abrasive on the ears, even your own. She shrugs her shoulders, still kneeling on the cold, hard ground at your mercy. “Well let's have a refresher then, shall we?” Tearing the tan-colored bandage apart with a single rip, you reveal the puncture marks—they were still wet and irritated, the wounds reopening immediately at the slightest movement.

Ellie whines like an animal, a crude “ahh”, and she starts pleading harder than ever. “Please, baby, my pretty, my angel, please, please, pleasepleaseplease, just lemme have a drop, just one. That's all, I swear.” Her gaze darkens exponentially, if you didn't know her it would instill fear in your heart, but luckily you were well aware of all her tricks. She snarls, “Fuck you. I'm literally on my fucking knees right now. Why are you doing this?” Her voice breaks angrily, wobbling with great lust and need—the need to have you, the need to drink you and fondle you and taste you in all senses of the word, and at this point she didn't seem to care about preserving a morsel of her dignity, she was simply so drunk on you, you couldn't believe.

You reiterate the previously established explanation, “We have an agreement that says you're allowed to take my blood once a month, so you can have some more each time. Rather than taking a little bit but more often, you requested this yourself. And you already drank lots yesterday. Does that not ring a bell?”

She groans, a gravelly, guttural sound that had you coming back to your senses and realizing, this was technically, a monster who you loved so dearly.

It led you to wonder—to her kind, what was so special about the liquid coursing through your veins?

When you split your lip open as a kid, clumsily tumbling face-first onto the asphalt, or bit your tongue while eating something stubborn, the strange, metallic taste was purely disgusting. It had a certain heaviness to it, both physically with the way it sat in your mouth, but also mentally. Like a subconscious awareness you were not meant to consume it like she does, but to spit it out the millisecond it made contact with your taste buds. There were times where the thought made you queasy, the measly knowledge of just how much of this fluid was inside you, keeping you alive.

But to her, it was a completely different story. She lapped it up with such fervor, such thirst you've never seen before. A sloppy frenzy like there wasn't a single thing more delightfully flavorful.

Her teeth penetrating all the way through your epidermis, dermis, and hypodermis, and straight through the vein wall was a feeling you're likely never going to get used to. It stung, it really did, and you were quick to get all woozy from the blood volume loss, but Ellie knew your limits—even though hers were not even close. Her thirst was insatiable.

The intimacy of the act was a whole separate topic to think about too. It was such an erotic experience, and when probed about it she argues it's better than sex, somehow. When she drinks from you, Ellie is really messy with it, you noticed. Blood dribbles down her chin and stains her lips as if it's a designer lip oil, the distinct deep maroon color sometimes appearing clownish and too intense against her fair complexion.

She was really handsy as well, and you weren't sure if it was purposeful, but you didn't care to ask because you didn't really mind in the first place. It felt nice. Her muscular hands tend to trace your waist as she's suckling, hovering by your ass, and traveling north to knead the supple tissue of your breasts.

And how could you forget about the sheer proximity of it all, even when having sex normally, it didn't feel nearly as intimate or vulnerable as this. Her body would be tightly curled around yours, she couldn't bear to have one meager square inch of her not touching you.

When she drank from your neck, it was bordering on heavenly, you had to be honest with yourself. There was something about the combination of the light headed, dizzying feeling it brought you, her closeness, the licking sensations, and the hungry sounds she produced that all together mixed to form nothing short of a mind blowing, intoxicating concoction.

When you both were feeling it, she'd be able to draw breathy moans to fall from your lips, and would giggle into your skin before sucking harder, leaving bruised marks surrounding the punctures. You read in some folklore that vampires carried a sort of aphrodisiac in their fangs, or was it their saliva? Again, you didn't really know all the details, but the sessions made you both yearn for each other in a way that felt taboo to discuss—midnight feedings often turning into animalistic fucking, sometimes even simultaneously.

Like having Ellie latched onto the side of your neck while she grinds her dripping pussy onto yours, her pleasureful mewls filling your ears, or having her hold your wrist to her mouth while her other hand is pleasuring you into oblivion, prodding against your spongy walls, making your head spin.

The time you spent lost in thought, she had broken the rule of not touching you unless you said so, but all she had done was rest her head on your knee, zoning out, sulking like an injured puppy. Unfortunately for her, you weren't done torturing her just yet. You didn't move her off of you, she was just laying there, grumbling curses under her breath, saying how mean you were, how much she despised you and everything you stood for, although both of you knew the truth—she had said herself, “I've never tasted blood like yours,” and you felt intrinsically bound to her on a subconscious level, these were mere amusements you indulged in, that ended up beneficial for both.

She got her delicious elixir of life, at the cost of you having your way with her for a bit. You hear her sniffle, the little defenseless sound of defeat was able to break your act.

You resume stroking her hair, and she wraps trembling arms around your thigh. “Hmm?” You coo, putting on a sweet facade. “Don't talk to me like that, c'mon man.” She wails, the attempts to regain control over her voice proving unsuccessful.

You took your nails to the newly formed raspberry scabs on top of your bite wounds and picked them off, and she lunges to grab your arm with inhuman reflexes, but once again you emerge on top, having spent so much time memorizing every last one of her behavioral patterns, so much so you knew exactly how she was going to attempt catching you and moved out the way without thinking about it.

“Too slow, you've gotten predictable.” You ridicule her, embellishing your voice with the most fake, sickly sweet tone you could just to irritate her as much as you possibly could. Ellie lays her head on your thigh, sighing. It's like she's given everything up. Her own patience was running out, potentially entering unpredictable territory now.

You squeeze the sides of the hole in your skin to coax a bubble of bright red blood to ooze out, marveling, “It's such a nice color, I see why you like it so much.” You talk to her coolly, ignoring her tearful, yet terrifyingly rage-filled glares, her massive fangs bared as if you were a prey animal she caught herself and was preparing to rip apart.

“Want a taste, Ellie? Have you earned it?” You think out loud, comically tapping your chin to exaggerate the brainstorming act. “Whatever, it's not like I have anything left to say to you.” She sounded heartbroken, you've never seen someone have such sorrow, the sheer misery behind her eyes actually caught you off guard.

"Okay I think you have earned it, just need you to say one more thing.” She nods, a little too quickly, rushing to catch any tears that were planning an escape route down the sides of her pretty face. You cradle her cheek, brushing your thumb against her skin, “Aw, baby, don't cry.” This time however, your tone is sincere.

She doesn't wait for your request, and starts all over again, this is getting old. “I promise everything. I'll make you feel so good, I'll give you whatever you want, please …you're too sweet.” She huffs, “Well, except when you're not.”

She continues mumbling, burying her face in the meat of your thigh, occasionally stopping to lovingly peck where she was laying, quiet smooching sounds. That really melted your heart, you were ready to give her what she needs after so much cruelty. This went on much longer than you had planned, but you were having fun with it. So you decided to abandon whatever you would ask of her. But could anyone blame you?

She slowly reaches for your wounded arm, gauging your reactions, like in the situation you were planning to do something to prevent her, but you come up with a better idea. “I'll do you one even better, Els.” The grin that envelops her face could light up a thousand suns, and melt the coldest of souls. Make vampire hunters quit their careers even, that's how adorable she could be, on the occasion.

You lean back to take your shirt off in one swift motion, and lay back on the edge of the bed, tilting your neck to give her access to the sweet pulsating spot, finding the droplet of drool that falls from her agape mouth utterly hilarious. “Go ahead, I've had my fun.” She hesitates. “But our agreement, I don't wanna hurt you.” “Ellie it's fine, unless you don't want t-” “No I do I do, oh thank you, thank you, thank you. I love you so muchhhh.”

Her gratitude is silly, she's straddling you and kissing all over your neck, face, and collarbones with such care, and you inhale sharply once you feel the familiar sensation of her teeth piercing your sensitive skin.

She has one hand on the nape of your neck, holding you close to her so you couldn't move away, and the other one finds your fingers to intertwine with hers, loud gulping noises filling the room as she messily laps up all that flows from you.

Her bony hips are sat atop your pelvis, and soon enough you feel her start absentmindedly rocking back and forth on you, your breath hitching. You hold her waist to ground yourself, and aid her. She's whispering, mostly to herself, “Fuck that's so fucking good, needed this so bad, need you, fuck- shit. Ah, yes.”

The vertiginous feeling swirls in your head and you feel yourself fading, your grip on her sides loosening, but you don't feel one single ounce of panic, because you know she's got you. No matter what, until the end of time. Or at the very least, until the final bells tolled and you were lowered to your eternal resting place six feet underground.

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[itneverendshere]

hi again! so I've been meaning to send a request, but before i go about it I wish to say it's completely okay if you're not inspired by this, or if you simply don't want to write it, i would hate myself if I made you overwhelmed or smth. love you anyways 💕 so for the request: reader who's autistic. she's not very talkative nor socially active, never had a boyfriend, has one or two friends, yet somehow rafe notices her and finds her endearing. she's okay being herself with her friends, like she's funny, kind and passionate about her interests (like geek stuff, fantasy books, animals and such). she has zero flirting experience and is always dismissive towards rafe bc she doesn't think someone could like her romantically, and she's always suspicious of people bc they've wronged her in the past (in my experience as an autistic person i tend to believe everything ppl say and am kinda naive, so ppl played me or said unrealistic things and I believed them, which then is a reason for laughter, now I'm always suspicious to ppl's intentions). I'm giving you creative freedom with this, just wanted an autistic reader for once :) if you feel like writing it but need to know more abt autism, you can just post question and I'll answer in your asks, if that's okay. Just a reminder again before I go: feel free to decline this request, I know it might not be something cool to write and that's okay ☺️ love you lots, thank you for your time!

i tried my best, hope you like it 🫶🏼 and if you don't lmk so i can do better!! this was really fun since it's a compeltely new topic of inspiration. kinda left an "open" ending bc i couldn't make my mind up lmao. thank you for the resquest and sorry it took me a while to finally do it 🫂

got dreams but i can't make myself believe them - r.c

paring: rafe x autistic!reader word count: 6.9k

The party was a mistake.

You knew it the moment you walked in, the terrible music and crush of people making your skin crawl. Your friends had been relentless, insisting that you needed to “get out more” and “live a little,” despite your repeated attempts to explain that “getting out” meant something different to you.

You’d caved eventually, and now you were standing awkwardly in the corner of a stranger’s living room, clutching your book like it was a life vest. You needed to stop letting them drag you everywhere.

It was the typical college party scene, at least the one's you'd heard or read about before. Red solo cups everywhere, groups of people huddled on couches or pressed together on the so called dance floor, and a few already-drunk guys yelling loudly in the kitchen.

This was supposed to be fun?

“Just stay for an hour,” they said. “If it’s really that bad, you can leave.”

Right.

Except an hour felt like an eternity when you were trapped in a sensory nightmare. You took a deep breath, scanning the crowded room, the noise was a constant, overwhelming buzz in your ears.

This was definitely a mistake.

You did what you always did best in these situations: found a quiet place to hide.

After walking through the drunk college students, you ended up on hidden nook near the back of the house. It was a small room, probably some sort of den or study, but blessedly, it was empty.

With a sigh of relief, you settled into an oversized armchair, opened your book, and let the world outside your pages melt away.

Time slipped by as you read, the overwhelming noise changing into a distant hum. You were so engrossed that you didn’t notice when someone stumbled into the room until a loud crash jolted you out of your fictional word.

He nearly tripped over his own feet, catching himself at the last second with a slurred, “Shit.”

You looked up to find a guy standing unsteadily in the doorway, blinking blearily at you. He was tall, with tousled dark blonde hair and a loose grin that spoke of far too many drinks. His eyes were a striking blue even in the low light, and it took you a second to place him.

Rafe Cameron.

You knew him—well, of him, at least.

He was in your sociology class, always sitting a few rows behind you with his gaggle of equally charming friends. He’d never spoken to you before, though, and you’d never had a reason to pay him much attention.

Rafe's face split into a lazy grin, and he swaggered—no, stumbled—into the room, managing to make even that look effortless.

“Heyyy,” he drawled, leaning heavily against the arm of the chair across from you. “It’s… it’s you.”

You blinked at him. “Me?”

“Yeah,” he slurred, squinting like he was trying to see you clearly. “T-The girl from my class. The quiet one.”

Your stomach did a weird flip, part confusion, part disbelief.

“Okay?”

“Yeah.” He nodded sagely, as if you’d just confirmed some great truth. “You’re the uh, the smart one. With the books.” He gestured vaguely at the one in your hands. “Always sittin’ up front, all… all cute n'shit.”

Your cheeks burned. Was he calling you cute? No. He was drunk—really drunk. He probably didn’t know what he was saying.

“Do you need help?” you asked cautiously. “You look—”

“I’m fine,” he cut you off, straightening up as if to prove it, though the effect was somewhat ruined by the way he swayed on his feet. “Needed to get away from those fucking idiots out there. Too many people.”

You almost laughed.

Rafe Cameron, overwhelmed by people? The guy who was always surrounded by friends, girls draped over him like accessories? But he looked sincere—well, as sincere as a drunk person could look.

“Why don’t you sit down?” you suggested, gesturing to the empty chair. “You, um, might fall over if you don’t.”

“Pfft, I’m not gonna—” He paused mid-sentence, wobbling precariously. Then, as if he’d just made the smartest decision of his life, he plopped down in the chair, sprawling out. “See? Told ya m'fine,” he said, flashing you a lopsided grin.

You couldn’t help but snort.

“Right.”

He looked at you then, his gaze roaming over your face.

“What’re you doin’ here?” he asked abruptly.

You glanced at your book, then back at him. "Reading?”

“No, I mean… here,” he insisted, gesturing vaguely around the room. “At this shitty party.”

You shrugged, feeling awkward.

“My friends dragged me. I didn’t really want to come.”

Rafe’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully, and he looked almost sober.

“Yeah, same.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

He smirked, a flash of the cocky, arrogant guy you’d seen in class.

“Yeah, well… they’re fucking assholes, but they’re my assholes, y'know?”

You didn’t, but you nodded anyway. “Sure.”

“So, what’s that book about?”

You hesitated. “Um… it’s a fantasy novel.”

“Fantasy, huh?” He tilted his head, eyeing the cover. “Like wizards and dragons n'shit?”

“Sort of,” you admitted. “It’s about a girl who finds out she has magic and goes on a quest to—”

“Save the world?” he finished with a mock-solemn expression.

“...Yeah,” you said, narrowing your eyes. “But it’s more complicated than that.”

“Bet it is,” he murmured, his gaze still fixed on you. “You’re really into that stuff, huh?”

You shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah. Why?”

He shrugged, his smirk softening into something that looked like genuine interest. “You looked happy, talkin’ about it.”

Your heart did another weird little flip, and you frowned, pushing the feeling down. He was drunk, this didn’t mean anything. He wouldn’t remember it in the morning.

Rafe's eyes drifted shut, his head lolling back against the chair and within seconds, he was snoring.

You sat there, stunned.

What the hell had just happened?

Three days later, you were sitting in your usual spot in the lecture hall, flipping through your notes. Class was about to start, and the room was filling up with the usual pre-lecture chatter.

You were getting settled when someone slid into the seat beside you.

You glanced up, expecting one of your friends.

It was Rafe.

“Hey, friend,” he greeted casually, like you hadn’t left him passed out at a party a few nights ago.

You stared at him, completely disoriented. “Hi?”

He grinned, leaning back in his chair, acting like this was completely normal.

“Didn’t think I’d forget about you, huh?”

Your eyes narrowed. “I… yeah, actually.”

Rafe’s grin widened, and he leaned in closer, “See, that’s where you’re wrong, princess,” he murmured. “I remember everything.”

Did he just give you a nickname?

Your stomach dropped. “Oh?"

“Yeah.” He crossed his arms, looking entirely too smug. “You, sitting there all cute with your book, talking about magic and shit. Thought I was too drunk to remember, huh?”

“I—” You gawked at him, completely off balance. “Why are you here?”

“Because I want to be,” he said simply. “Got a problem with that?”

You blinked, caught off guard.

“No?”

“Good.” He flashed you a grin, “So, you gonna tell me more about that book, or what?”

You gaped at him. “You actually want to hear about it?”

“Why not?” he shot back, raising an eyebrow. “It made you smile.”

For some very stupid reason, that simple statement knocked the breath out of you.

“Okay,” you said, still unsure if this was some kind of elaborate prank.

Rafe leaned back in his seat, eyes fixed on you like you were the most fascinating thing in the world. Weird dude.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “I think I’ll stick around.”

The next few classes were…weird, to say the least.

Ever since Rafe decided you were his new "friend," he’d taken to sitting beside you every lecture, plopping down in the empty seat as if he’d been there all along. It was confusing.

Most of the time, he’d breeze in at the last possible minute, sauntering up to your row without so much as a greeting and settling into the chair with that infuriatingly self-assured face. You were already seated, your notebook open and your pen poised to start taking notes when he dropped into the seat beside you with his usual nonchalance.

Rafe stretched his long legs out in front of him, casting you a sidelong look, daring you to acknowledge him first.

“Hi,” you said quietly, eyes flicking back to the front of the room.

“Hey, princess."

You kept your gaze firmly on your notebook. You’d quickly learned that the best way to deal with him was to pretend his presence didn’t affect you—no matter how much his proximity messed with you.

He’d spent the last three classes nudging your foot under the desk, passing snide comments under his breath, or leaning over just close enough to murmur sarcastic observations about whatever the professor was droning on about. And today was no different.

The lecture started, Professor Callahan launching into her usual detailed overview of sociological theory. You tried to focus, pen flying across your notebook as you jotted down her points.

“Is she always this boring?” he whispered, leaning in so his arm brushed against yours.

You stiffened, eyes fixed on your notes. “If you listened, it wouldn’t be so boring.”

He snorted. “Yeah, right. Like I’m gonna waste my time listening to her go on about… what is it today? Class structure?”

“Yes,” you hissed, refusing to look at him. “And if you don’t stop talking, I’m going to—”

“You’re going to what?” he challenged, his grin audible in his voice.

You snapped your mouth shut, ignoring the way his leg brushed against yours under the desk. He was doing it on purpose—nudging your knee every so often, moving a little closer until the faint scent of his cologne surrounded you.

It was infuriating.

When you glanced sideways at him, he was looking at you with that maddening, lazy grin that made your heart stutter.

“Just pay attention,” you mumbled, cheeks warm.

“Why would I do that when I have such a pretty view right here?”

Your head whipped around, eyes wide. “What?”

His eyes moved back to the front of the room as if he hadn’t just made your brain short-circuit. 

“Relax, princess. Just messin' with you.”

You swallowed, trying to refocus on the lecture. His attention felt like a physical thing—it made you uneasy. 

Determined not to give him the satisfaction, you forced yourself to look at the professor, who was in the middle of explaining something about social hierarchies when she suddenly stopped mid-sentence.

“Mr. Cameron.”

The entire class fell silent.

You looked up, eyes widening in surprise as Professor Callahan fixed Rafe with a stern look.

“I’m aware that I’m not as pretty as your classmate,” she said dryly, gesturing toward you, “but I would appreciate it if you could pay attention for at least ten minutes.”

A ripple of snickers spread through the room, and your cheeks flamed scarlet. Rafe, however, didn’t blink, he was completely unruffled and offered the professor a lazy, arrogant smile.

“Sorry. Just got a little distracted.”

Your stomach dropped. He was staring at you, unabashedly.

The professor raised an eyebrow. “I’m sure.” Her tone was dry, unimpressed. “Would you mind keeping your distractions to yourself until after class?”

Another murmur of laughter swept through the room, and you shrank in your seat, mortified. His smirk widened, but he leaned back in his chair, raising his hands in mock surrender.

“Of course, ma’am,” he drawled. “No more distractions.”

Professor Callahan gave him a pointed look, then turned back to the board, resuming her lecture. You sat there, face burning, refusing to look anywhere near Rafe, but you could feel his eyes on you.

“Guess I got you in trouble, huh?”

You grit your teeth, still staring resolutely at the front of the room. “Stop talking.”

“Can’t help it,” he murmured, his voice teasing. “You’re way more interesting than this shit.”

“Rafe, I swear—”

“Okay, okay, I’ll behave,” he said lightly, sitting back. But he didn’t take his eyes off you. You could feel him lingering, warm and intent, and you wanted to scream.

How was he so calm? So unaffected, like getting called out by the professor was just a minor inconvenience?

You hated every second of it.

“Rafe,” you hissed under your breath, finally daring to glance at him. “Will you just—”

“What?”

“Stop staring.”

He hummed thoughtfully. “Can’t promise that."

Your heart hammered, and you squeezed your pen so tightly it nearly snapped. “Why are you even here?”

He shrugged, his expression turning oddly serious. “I like sitting next to you.”

Rafe Cameron—the arrogant, cocky asshole you’d written off as nothing more than a nuisance—had just chosen to stay by your side.

As soon as class ended, you gathered your things in record time, heart still thumping wildly, keeping your head down, hoping to slip away unnoticed.

Maybe if you were quick enough, you could escape before he decided to make good on his new, annoying habit of sticking to you like glue. But, of course, he was nothing if not persistent.

You’d barely slung your bag over your shoulder when he appeared at your side, his tall frame looming over you as he fell into step like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Heading to lunch?” he asked, as if he hadn’t just spent the entire class making you the center of unwanted attention.

“Yes?” You tried not to sound as thrown as you felt.

“Cool. I’m starving.”

He said it like it was an invitation, as if he was entitled to follow you, and before you could muster up a half-hearted protest, he was already steering you through the crowded hallway.

“Wait, what are you doing?” you demanded, glancing around in panic.

People were staring, eyes widening as they took in the sight of Rafe Cameron, of all people, trailing after you. Whispers flitted through the air, disbelieving, and you shrank under the scrutiny, feeling painfully exposed.

“Uh, going to lunch with you?” He made it sound so obvious, his voice lilting with amusement.

“I didn’t invite you!” You glanced at him, trying to tamp down the fluttery, nervous feeling his presence always seemed to stir up. “What if I’m eating with someone else?”

He shrugged. “Then I’ll eat with them too.”

You gawked at him. “What?”

“Relax. It’s just lunch.”

Just lunch. This was completely absurd.

You narrowed your eyes, debating whether to make a break for it, but he was already pulling you toward the main quad, his hand ghosting the small of your back in a way that made your skin tingle. 

Your heart hammered as the familiar outdoor seating area came into view. Your friends were already there, sitting at your usual table—a small group of two girls and a guy, all talking animatedly.

Their expressions morphed from curious to shocked when they caught sight of you—and Rafe—heading straight toward them.

“Uh, hey,” you greeted awkwardly as you approached. They just stared, mouths agape.

Emily was the first to recover.

“What the—since when do you two know each other?” she asked, eyes darting between you and Rafe like she was seeing a glitch in the matrix.

“Yeah, what’s going on here?” Max, the guy in your small circle, chimed in, his gaze flicking to Rafe warily. “Is this, like… a project thing?”

“No, it’s not—” you started, but Rafe cut you off with a breezy smile.

“Can’t believe y’all kept her to yourselves this whole time,” he drawled, pulling out the chair beside yours and plopping down like he’d done it a thousand times before. “Thought you’d have the decency to introduce me to the prettiest girl on campus.”

Your friends gaped, eyes wide with shock. You could see their brains short-circuiting.

Meanwhile, you were fighting the urge to smack him upside the head.

“Please shut up,” you muttered under your breath, cheeks burning.

His gaze slid over your stunned friends with lazy amusement. “What?” he said innocently. “It’s true.”

“What the hell is happening right now?” Emily demanded, still staring at you like you’d grown a second head. “You—you and Rafe Cameron?”

You sighed, already regretting every life choice that had led you to this moment. “There is no ‘me and Rafe Cameron.’ He just—he’s being annoying.”

“Annoying?” he repeated, feigning offense. “C’mon. I thought we were past that.”

“We are not past anything,” you snapped, shooting him a glare.

“Okay, back up,” Max interjected, brow furrowed in confusion. “How do you guys even know each other?”

“Uh, sociology class?” you offered weakly, as if that explained anything. “He’s been sitting next to me.”

“Sitting next to you?” Emily repeated slowly, as if she was trying to process a particularly difficult equation. “And now you’re… eating lunch together?”

“It’s not—” You looked helplessly at Rafe, who was watching the exchange with that insufferable smirk. “I didn’t ask him to.”

He looked completely unfazed by the mess he’d caused.

“What can I say? I like the company.”

“Since when?” Emily shot back, clearly unconvinced.

Rafe shrugged, “Since she started talking to me.”

Your friends fell silent, eyes wide and suspicious as they turned to you, searching for answers. But you just sat there, feeling utterly, hopelessly lost. What were you supposed to say? Rafe Cameron had decided, out of nowhere, to insert himself into your life? That he was following you to lunch like this was some sort of normal occurrence?

“Look,” you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “It’s really not a big deal. He’s just—”

“Rafe Cameron is never ‘just’ anything,” Emily interrupted, folding her arms as she fixed Rafe with a suspicious look. “So what are you up to?"

“Nothing,” Rafe said easily, his smile all sharp edges. “Like I said, I’m just getting to know her.”

“Getting to know her,” Max echoed, skeptical.

“Yeah.” Rafe’s eyes never left yours, his eyes gleaming with something that made your pulse flutter. “What’s so weird about that?”

Your friends exchanged looks. You didn’t blame them. This was weird. More than weird.

You’d never been the kind of girl to attract attention—especially not from someone like Rafe. Popular, arrogant, and completely out of your league in every possible way. Yet, here he was, sitting with you at lunch like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“So,” He said suddenly, turning his attention back to the group, “Are you gonna sit here gaping all day, or are we gonna eat?”

Emily blinked, snapping out of her daze. “Uh, yeah, we’re… we’re eating.”

“Good.” Rafe turned to you, eyebrow raised. “You eating, princess?”

You stared at him, “I—yes?”

“Cool. Want me to grab you something?”

You stared at him, incredulous. “You’re offering to get me lunch?”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I am. What do you want?”

“I—” You swallowed, glancing at your friends, who were watching the exchange. “Um, a sandwich?”

“Got it.” Rafe pushed to his feet, “Be right back.”

To your utter disbelief, he sauntered off toward the food line, leaving you and your friends staring after him.

“What,” Max said slowly, “the fuck just happened?”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “I have no idea.”

The awkward lunch with Rafe didn’t end as badly as you expected.

Your friends had spent the entire time shooting you confused, bewildered looks, while he seemed to thrive under their scrutiny, lounging beside you like he belonged. He didn’t flirt—Thank God—but he didn’t tone down his usual cocky self either.

By the end of it, he’d somehow managed to charm your friends enough to leave them more confused rather than outright hostile. Still, after that lunch, you’d expected him to lose interest, to join his usual crowd and forget all about his bizarre little experiment.

You learned that the hard way two days later.

It was late afternoon, and you were holed up in one of the campus library, buried under a mountain of textbooks and notes for an upcoming exam. It was your sanctuary—blissfully free of distractions.

At least, until Rafe sauntered in.

You didn’t notice him at first, too absorbed in your notes, hunched over a particularly dense passage in your sociology textbook when you felt it— glancing up cautiously.

Rafe leaned against the bookshelf a feet away, his eyes fixed on you with an assessing look.

“What are you doing here?” you hissed, glancing around nervously.

No one seemed to be paying attention, but you still felt like the entire room was suddenly staring.

“Studying,” he said, straight-faced.

“Since when do you study in the library?”

“Since now,” He pushed off the bookshelf and strolled over to your table, pulling out the chair across from you, “What? Can’t a guy broaden his horizons?”

You stared at him, incredulous. “You’re joking.”

“Not today.” He leaned forward, resting his chin in his hand as he peered at your open book. “So, what’re we learning?”

“We are not learning anything,” you muttered, eyes narrowing. “I’m studying. You...I don’t know what you’re doing.”

“Keeping you company,” he said simply. “You looked lonely.”

“Lonely?”

“Yeah.” He tilted his head, his gaze sweeping over your face. “All holed up in here with your books. Thought I’d help.”

What was he even talking about?

This was insane. He didn’t hang out in the library, especially not to “keep someone company.” He was the kind of guy who spent his free time at parties, or on the field, or wherever people like him thrived.

“Rafe,” you said slowly, “you don’t even know what I’m studying.”

He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter.”

“It does if you’re trying to help,” you shot back, frustration seeping into your voice. “You’re—what are you even—”

“Okay, okay,” he interrupted, raising his hands in surrender. “Calm down. Just trying to see what’s got you all riled up.”

You bit back a groan, rubbing your temples. You didn’t need—didn’t want—his attention.

“Fine,” you muttered, turning your textbook around so he could see the page. “I’m going over Durkheim’s theory of social integration.”

Rafe leaned in, squinting at the page. “Durkheim?”

“Yes,” you said, a little impatiently. “He believed that society functions through a collective conscience—shared beliefs and values that bind people together.”

“Sounds boring as hell,” Rafe said bluntly.

“It’s not boring,” you retorted before you could stop yourself. “It’s actually really interesting—he argued that a lack of social integration could lead to anomie, a state of normlessness that causes people to feel disconnected and isolated.”

Rafe stared at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable.

At least it felt that way to you.

“What?” you demanded, suddenly self-conscious. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

He shrugged, a thoughtful smile tugging at his lips. “Just… you get really into this stuff, don’t you?”

Your cheeks flushed. “It’s sociology. It’s important.”

“Yeah, but…” He shook his head, “It’s kinda cute.”

You blinked, “Cute?”

“Yeah.” He leaned back, crossing his arms as he regarded you with a casual, easy confidence that made your heart flutter. “You get all intense when you talk about it. You actually care.”

“I—Of course I care,” you stammered, “It’s my major.”

“I know,” he murmured. “I like that about you.”

What—what was that supposed to mean? Why was he looking at you like that? Before you could untangle your thoughts, a shadow fell over the table, and you glanced up to see another student standing there—a tall, lanky guy with dark hair and glasses. He looked vaguely familiar, probably from one of your classes.

“Uh, hey,” the guy said awkwardly, glancing between you and Rafe. “Are—are you using this seat?”

Rafe’s expression changed instantly, “Yeah,” he said flatly. “We are.”

The guy blinked, taken aback. “Oh, uh, sorry, I just—”

“You just can find another table,” Rafe cut in, “We’re a little busy here.”

You gaped at him, mortified. “Rafe, stop.”

He kept staring down at the poor guy, his posture tense and unyielding until, with a muttered apology, the student backed off, scurrying away like he’d just had a close encounter with a predator.

“What's wrong with you?” You scolded as soon as the guy was out of earshot. “He just wanted to sit down!”

“Yeah, and we’re studying,” Rafe said dismissively. “No room for distractions.”

“We’re not studying anything!” you shot back, resisting the urge to smack him. “You’re sitting here, being—being weird.”

“Not weird,” he corrected, leaning in again. “Protective.”

You froze, “Protective?”

“Yeah.” His eyes locking onto yours. “Can’t have just anyone bothering you, can I?”

After the bizarre encounter in the library, you were convinced Rafe would drop this whole… whatever it was. For sure.

Surely, following you to lunch and then “protecting” you in the library was enough.

But when you found yourself at another party two nights later—dragged along by Emily despite your vehement protests—you knew it was only a matter of time before he found you. Somehow, no matter where you went, Rafe had made it his mission to seek you out.

“C'mooon, you need to have some fun,” Emily had insisted, half-pulling, half-dragging you through the front door of one of the fraternity houses on campus.

The music was already blaring, people were packed in the main room.

“This isn’t my idea of fun,” you muttered, hugging your arms around yourself as you tried to avoid brushing against the partygoers. It wasn’t that you disliked parties, exactly—it was just that the noise, the sheer volume of people could get overwhelming quickly.

“Just stay for an hour,” Emily pleaded. “Please? I swear it’ll be more fun than you think. We can dance, have a few drinks—”

“I don’t dance,” you cut in flatly, giving her a pointed look.

“Okay, fine, I’ll dance, and you… can hang out and people-watch,” she amended, undeterred. “Besides, who knows? Maybe you’ll meet someone.”

You gave her a withering stare.

“Yeah, because I’m such a social butterfly.”

You sighed, resigned to your fate, and began making your way through the press of bodies. You managed to find a relatively quiet corner in the back, near the stairs, and gratefully leaned against the wall.

Perhaps if you stayed out of sight long enough, Emily would give up on trying to get you to socialize and let you leave early. It was a long shot, but you could hope.

You hadn’t been there long when you felt it—the familiar prickling sensation of someone’s gaze lingering on you.

Rafe, in all his infuriating glory, leaning against the wall a few feet away. He looked unfairly good, dressed in a dark button-up that clung to his frame in all the right ways, his hair tousled enough to look effortlessly cool. And, as usual, he was watching you.

You narrowed your eyes at him, your stomach twisting in irritation and something else.

“Are you stalking me now?” you demanded, crossing your arms as you glared at him.

Rafe’s lips curved. “Would it be so bad if I was?”

“Yes,” you said, “It would be very bad.”

He chuckled, the sound low, sending an unwelcome shiver down your spine.

“Relax, princess. I just saw you standing here all alone and thought I’d come say hi.”

“Hi,” you muttered, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “Now you can leave.”

Instead, he straightened, pushing off the wall and closing the distance between you in a two strides until he was standing directly in front of you.

You tried to step back, but the wall blocked your escape.

“Actually, I was thinking we could, hang out for a bit?” he suggested, tilting his head as he regarded you.

“Why?” you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

Rafe blinked, seemingly taken aback by the question. “Why?”

“Yes,” you insisted, frustration growing inside you. “Why do you keep… doing this? Showing up, sitting with me, following me to lunch, acting like—like we’re friends or something. What is your deal, Cameron?”

Slowly he reached up, bracing one hand on the wall beside your head, leaning in so close you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin.

“My deal,” he murmured, his voice smooth, “is that I like you.”

No. No, no, no.

That couldn’t be right, people didn't like you, they tolerated you, maybe, or found you useful sometimes, but they didn't like you, not in the way he was implying.

You felt panic rising in your chest.

“You’re lying,” you said shaking your head in disbelief. “You’re just—this is some kind of game, isn’t it? Some—some bet, or—”

Rafe’s expression tightened, “It’s not a game,” he ground out, his eyes flashing. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

You swallowed hard, chest aching. This didn’t make sense.

“I don’t believe you,” you shook your head stubbornly.

His eyes narrowed, “No?”

“No,” you repeated, crossing your arms defiantly. “You’re just… you. You can’t just decide you like me out of nowhere.”

“I didn’t decide,” he murmured, “It just happened.”

Your breath hitched. Why was he doing this to you? Why couldn’t he just leave you alone?

“I—” You broke off, struggling to find words, but before you could answer, a loud voice interrupted.

“Yo, Rafe! There you are, man!”

You both jerked back, startled, and you glanced over to see one of Rafe’s friends—Topper, if you remembered correctly—stumbling over, a wide grin plastered across his face.

“What are you doing back here?” Topper slurred, his gaze sliding to you. He blinked, “Who’s this?”

Rafe stepped in front of you slightly, his posture tense and protective.

“Doesn’t matter,” he said curtly, “Go find someone else to bother.”

Topper blinked, taken aback. “Whoa, man, chill. I was just—”

“Go,” Rafe repeated, his tone brooking no argument.

Topper stared at him for a long moment, then slowly backed off, muttering under his breath as he disappeared into the crowd. As soon as he was gone, Rafe turned back to you, his eyes softening again.

“Sorry about that,” he murmured, “Didn’t mean to—”

“Why did you do that?” you cut in, your heart still pounding.

Rafe frowned. “Do what?”

“Get rid of him,” you said, shaking your head in confusion. “He was your friend. Why would you—”

Maybe you’d misread him, he didn’t mean any of what he said. He was probably bored, looking for some amusement—another toy to play with for a little while.

“I wanted to talk to you. Not him.”

You blinked, bewildered. “But he’s your friend.”

He gave a half-hearted shrug. “So? Doesn’t mean I want him interrupting us.”

Us. Like there was an “us.” Like there could ever be an “us.”

You shook your head, trying to clear the fog of confusion. “But I don’t understand,” you mumbled. “I don’t get it. You don’t know me.”

“I know enough,” he said quietly, his eyes holding yours in a way that made it hard to breathe. “More than you think.”

You frowned.

It was impossible to ignorethe nagging feeling that he was just… playing with you, this was all some sick joke and at any moment, the punchline would hit, and you’d be the idiot.

“You’re messing with me,” you muttered, taking a small step to the side to put some space between you. “You’re bored or something.”

“I’m not bored,” he said firmly, stepping forward to close the gap you’d just created. “I told you, I wouldn’t do that.”

“I didn’t ask for this. You’ve been following me around, showing up where I am, saying all these things like—like we’re something, but we’re not.”

His eyes narrowed, not believing what he was hearing. “What are you talking about? You think I’m just messing around?”

“Yes!” you practically shouted, throwing your hands up. “Yes, I do! Why else would you be doing this? You’re Rafe Cameron, for god’s sake. You don’t even like me. This is just some twisted game to you, isn’t it?”

You stared at him, trying to read his face, find any hint of dishonesty, any sign that this was all an act. But all you saw was that same intensity. Panic kept grazing at you. This wasn’t right. It couldn’t be.

People didn’t seek you out at parties or show up in libraries to talk about sociology. Guys like Rafe didn’t choose people like you.

There had to be some ulterior motive.

“You show up out of nowhere, act like I’m some project, some… someone who needs your protection—why, Rafe? Because I don’t fit into your world? Because I’m a joke to you and your friends?”

“That’s not it,” He growled, his voice defensive. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I don’t know what I’m talking about?” you scoffed, shaking your head. “You haven’t given me a reason to believe any of this.”

“You think I’m lying? 

You moved your head again, harder this time.

“You’re—you’re saying things that don’t make sense. I don’t understand.”

He took a slow, poising breath, "What doesn't make sense to you?" 

"All of this," you replied, your voice quivering with frustration, "You, acting like you—like you care. Like you see me. People don’t do that, not for someone like me. I don’t—" You cut yourself off, not sure how to finish the sentence, your thoughts spiraling.

It wasn’t just that you couldn’t believe him; it was that you didn’t know how to. Your experiences had taught you to be wary, always look for the catch, because there always was one.

Always.

Rafe's brows drawn together in something that almost looked like concern.

"Someone like you?" he repeated, "What does that even mean?"

You swallowed, feeling your insecurities gripping down on your chest.

"It means I’m not… like you. I don’t know how to talk to people, I don’t get things right all the time. People don’t notice me, and when they do, it’s usually because I’ve done something wrong, or because they want something from me. That’s just how it is."

He shook his head.

"That’s not how I see you."

You opened your mouth to argue, to dismiss what he was saying, to protect yourself from the disappointment that was sure to come.

Rafe didn’t give you the chance. 

"So I’m messing with you because you’re not like everyone else? Is that it? You think I’m playing some kind of game because you don’t fit into some stupid idea of who’s supposed to matter?" 

You wanted to recoil into the safety of your doubts, but something in his voice, in the way he was looking at you, made you stop.

"I’m not going to pretend like I know everything about you," Rafe continued, no less serious. "But I know enough to know that I like you. I don’t care if you don’t fit in with my world, or whatever you think that means. I like that you’re passionate about the things you care about. I like that you don’t put up with anyone’s shit—not even mine." A small, almost self-deprecating smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "I’ve spent enough time around fake people to know the difference."

You weren’t used to this kind of sincerity. Part of you still wanted to push it away, reject it before it had a chance to hurt you. But another part of you—a much smaller, quieter part—was whispering that maybe he meant it.

"Why me?"

"Because you're you," he said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

Cliché as fuck. So why were you shaking?

The two of you just stood there, the noise of the party fading while your mind was processing everything.

"I’m not… I’m not good at this," you admitted, "At understanding what people mean, or knowing if they’re being serious or not. I don’t know how to read you."

Rafe’s eyes softened even more at your confession, and he took a deep breath.

"I get that," he said quietly. "I’m not always great at this either. But I’m serious. I wouldn’t lie to you, not about this."

You wanted to believe him. But there was still that tiny voice of doubt in the back of your mind, reminding you of all the times you’d been wrong before, of all the times you’d trusted someone only to be let down.

You hesitated, "I don’t know if I can."

He didn’d demand anything from you, instead, he nodded.

"That’s okay. You don’t have to believe me right now. But I’ll be here when you’re ready."

With that, he stepped back, giving you the space you so desperately needed. That small, almost hopeful smile was gonna hunt you for the next days.

You couldn’t help but wonder if you’d been wrong about him after all.

[hopingforrainydays]

a game of hearts | d. malfoy

pairing: draco malfoy x fem!reader

warnings: angst, heartbreak, not a happy ending

word count: 2.2k

summary: the four times you rejected draco, and the one time you didn't (and you really should've)

author’s note: this one has been cooking for a while, i apologize in advance for the heartbreak

masterlist

requests are open!

--

I.

"Come with me to Hogsmeade."

You didn't bother to look up from your book. "No."

Draco Malfoy stood in front of you, arms crossed, expression caught between amusement and mild irritation. His platinum hair was perfectly combed and his uniform was impeccable. The very image of effortless arrogance.

He moved to sit beside you, and you opened your mouth to protest, but it was too late. He lounged against the library chair, arm draped across your own.

"You could at least pretend to consider it," he said, frowning. His gaze held your own. Bright eyes glittered with mischief.

You forced yourself to look away, back to your book, and flipped a page. "I could, but I won't."

His friends were watching from a distance. You could hear them whispering, snickering. You wondered how much they bet on this attempt, how much they thought you're worth nothing more than a joke.

Draco huffed, muttered something about you being impossible, and stalked off. You didn't watch him leave, but you heard Pany's laughter as she linked his arm through his. A game, you reminded yourself. That's all you were to them.

II.

Again, he caught you in the library. Though caught was a strong word, as you were prone to spending most of your time there. It wasn't difficult to track you down.

"You're not even giving me a chance."

"You don't deserve one."

Draco's lips twitched, his ever-present smirk flickering like a candle about to go out. "That's harsh. Even for you."

You leaned back in your chair, tilting your head. "You think I don't notice? The way your little entourage watches whenever you try this? You're amusing them, Malfoy. I don't exist for your entertainment."

His face fell. Just for a second. Then that smirk is back, but you saw the moment of hesitation. It lingered in the air between you, unspoken.

"That's not—"

"Save it." You gathered your things and left before he could finish. The weight of his stare followed you all the way out.

III.

"You know, you could bother some other girl for a change. I'm sure she'd kill for your attention," you said as you picked at your food with a fork.

The great hall bustled around you, and your eyes tried to catch anyone else's in a plea for help. But the only reason they looked your way in the first place was because Draco Malfoy, of all people, was sat at the empty corner of the table with you.

His elbow was propped against the table, his full body turned to you.

He grinned, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "I don't want any other girl."

There was something different in his voice this time. The usual arrogance was there, but it was layered beneath something else—something softer. You hesitated for a fraction of a second, and you hated that you did. You hated that your heart stuttered, just a little, because this time it almost sounded like he meant it.

You sat up, suddenly, pushing the tray of food away from you. He looked as though he might protest, but you were quick to leave your seat. You refused to entertain the notion that there was something genuine in his voice.

IV.

"Do you even like me?"

Draco blinked. "What?"

You crossed your arms. "You've asked me out four times now. Why? What do you get out of this?"

He hesitated. Just for a second. But you saw it.

"I think you're interesting," he said eventually.

You hummed. He thought you were interesting, a word used by most other students to kindly tell you that they thought you were strange, weird, or different.

"Interesting," you repeat, voice flat.

"I'd call you absolutely enchanting, but I'm afraid you'd hit me," he joked.

You didn't laugh. Instead, you stared at him. He stared back. And there it was, that look. Eyes wide and genuine, he looked too honest for your comfort.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you turned and walked away.

V.

The day you said yes, Draco looked stunned. Like he hadn't actually expected it to happen. Like he had forgotten why he started asking you in the first place.

It happened in the courtyard, under the brittle light of a late autumn afternoon. You were leaning against the stone wall, arms folded, watching him out of the corner of your eye as he approached yet again. But you hadn't been waiting for him, no.

His confidence was intact, as always, but you could tell from the way he fidgeted with the cuff of his sleeve that something about this game had changed.

"You again," you said dryly, before he could open his mouth.

Draco smirked. "You'd miss me too much if I stopped."

You rolled your eyes, but your lips twitched. "Doubtful."

There was a moment where he hesitated, as if he was weighing whether to press forward or retreat, and for some reason, that hesitation was what made you say it.

"Alright," you said. His brows furrowed in confusion. "I'll go out with you."

The silence stretched between you. His mouth opened slightly before he caught himself, schooling his expression into something far too neutral, too careful.

"You will?" he asked. He didn't quite believe it.

You tilted your head, studying him. "That's what you wanted...wasn't it?"

Draco recovered quickly, flashing a smirk that was almost too sharp. "Of course it is."

He said it as though this was some kind of victory, but you saw the flicker of something else in his eyes—doubt, uncertainty, maybe even regret. But he only extended a hand, palm up, waiting.

You stared at it for a second before sighing and slipping your fingers into his. It felt like stepping off a ledge.

Your relationship began like an accident. It didn't feel real at first—just something to occupy your time between classes, between studying, between moments of solitude. He sat with you at meals. Walked with you in the halls. Quieted his laughter when his friends made jokes at your expense.

And you—

You started to like him.

You're not sure when it happened. Maybe it was the time he snuck out past curfew just to bring you hot cocoa from the kitchens when you were studying late. Maybe it was the way he defended you—subtly, never outright, but you saw the way his shoulders stiffened when someone made an offhanded remark about you. Maybe it was how he listened when you talked, really listened, instead of waiting for his turn to speak.

You never thought Draco Malfoy capable of sincerity. But then he touched our wrist one evening by the lake, his fingers barely brushing against yours, and you thought, maybe, just maybe, this hadn't been a game at all. At least, not anymore.

You had been wrong about him.

One evening, curled up in the corner of the Slytherin common room, you found yourself laughing at something Draco said. It wasn't sharp, or bitter, or forced. It was real, warm. Unguarded. And the way he looked at you in that moment—like he wanted to bottle the sound and keep it—made your heart ache in a way you didn't quite understand.

"What?" you asked, because he hadn't looked away.

Draco blinked, startled, as if caught in something he wasn't meant to feel. "Nothing," he said, but his voice was softer than usual, the smirk on his lips almost absent.

You tilted your head, narrowing your eyes playfully. "You're staring."

"So?" His fingers brushed yours on the armrest between you, the touch so fleeting you almost think you imagined it. "Maybe I like looking at you."

Your breath caught, but you shoved down the flustered feeling. You rolled your eyes. "You're ridiculous."

"And you like it."

You shoved his shoulder lightly, and he laughed. Really laughed. For a second, you allowed yourself to believe that whatever this was, it was real. That he felt it too.

But then he grew distant.

He still walked beside you, still laughed at your biting remarks, still met you in the library when you claimed you didn't need the company. But he was quieter now, his eyes shadowed in a way you didn't understand. Sometimes, when he thought you weren't looking he watched you like he was waiting for something, some inevitable moment that only he knew was coming.

It was late into the night, and as you sat together in the empty Astronomy Tower, you decided you were tired of the distance.

"Draco," you said, shifting to face him. "What's wrong?"

He startled slightly, as if pulled from some faraway thought. "Nothing."

"Liar."

He exhaled sharply, a hint of a smirk curving his lips. "You're always ready to call me out, aren't you?"

"Someone has to."

There was a beat of silence, thick and weighted. Then, as if compelled by something neither of you could name, he leaned in.

And you let him.

His lips brushed against yours, hesitant at first, then more certain, more desperate. Like he was trying to memorize the feeling, to carve it into his skin before it was too late. Your fingers tangled in the fabric of his shirt, anchoring yourself as the world narrowed down to this—just this.

When you parted, his breath was unsteady. So was yours.

"You’re different with me," you murmured.

Draco swallowed hard, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips. "I know."

And for a moment, you thought he might've told you why.

But he didn't.

--

It happened in the corridor outside of the common room. You didn't mean to eavesdrop, but the voices were loud, and his name caught your attention before you could stop yourself.

"Alright, Draco, joke’s over. You’ve won. When are you finally going to end it?"

You froze.

Draco didn't answer right away. You couldn't see his expression, but you heard his hesitation, thick in the silence that followed.

"Draco?"

"I—"

"Oh, don't tell me you're actually enjoying this?" Blaise snickered. "Come on, mate, the bet was for a month. You've won."

Your stomach dropped. The world tilted. You didn't stay to hear the rest. You didn't need to.

You didn't remember walking there. The corridors blurred past you, torches flickering like distant stars, the weight of your heartbeat so loud it drowned out everything else. It pounded in your ears, your throat, in the spaces between your ribs. It threatened to tear your apart from the inside out.

Draco found you there, in the Astronomy Tower.

Of course he did.

It was where you kissed him for the first time. Where you sat with him in quiet companionship. Where you, despite your better judgment, let yourself believe that this—whatever this was—meant something.

But it didn't. It never did.

"Hey," he greeted, hesitant, cautious, as if he already knew something was wrong. As if he could feel the fury curling off you in waves. "What are you doing up here?"

You turned to face him, slowly, and the sight of him—his pale, sharp features, the stormy eyes you once thought held secrets only for you—made your stomach twist.

The silence grew thick. His brows furrowed, lips parting slightly, waiting.

And then, voice cold, steady, deadly, you said, "When were you going to tell me?"

He stilled. "Tell you what?"

You let out a hollow laugh, shaking your head. "Don't. Don't play stupid, Draco. Not now."

His throat bobbed. "I—"

"I heard them." The confession hung between you, heavy as a curse. "Pansy. Blaise. Your little entourage. I heard them asking when you'd finally break it off."

Draco's expression cracked, the faintest flicker of panic in his eyes. "I—"

"A month, Draco." Your voice trembled, but not with sorrow. With rage. "That's all I was to you. A game. A bet."

"No—" He stepped forward, and you took a step back. His face twisted as if you struck him. "It wasn't like that. Not—Not anymore."

You laughed, bitter. "Not anymore?" The words were acid on your tongue. "So when did it change, then? When did I stop being a joke?"

Draco looked at you like he didn't know what to say. Like there was no right answer. Because there wasn't one.

The worst part is that you wanted to believe him. Even now. Even after everything.

You wanted him to tell you it wasn't a lie. That every touch, every stolen glance, every whispered conversation in the dark meant something. That he meant it when he kissed, when he brushed his fingers against your skin like he was memorizing the shape of you.

But you knew better. You had always known better.

And yet, you still let yourself be fooled.

"You should have told me," you whispered. "From the beginning."

Draco exhaled, raking a hand through his hair. Frustration bled through his features. "I didn't know how." His voice was raw, unguarded in a way you had never heard before. "I tried—I wanted to stop. But then you—" He faltered. "I didn't mean for this to happen."

You inhaled sharply, and forced down the sting behind your eyes. "For what to happen?" Your voice was hoarse. "For me to fall for you? Or for you to fall for me?"

He didn't answer. And that told you everything you needed to know.

You took another step back, toward the stairs, toward the door, toward anywhere that wasn't here.

"I'm done, Draco." The words hurt. Merlin, did they hurt. But you refused to let him see it. "We're done."

His face crumbled. "Please—"

But you didn't stay to hear the rest. It didn't matter. Not anymore.

--

buy me a coffee

[okaysonny]

business advice ╏ hudson ahn

★ summary: hudson gets a noise complaint ─ from one person.

★ details: fluff, f! reader, spoiler free.

★ wc: 1.4k

★ A/N: who else has a crush on him

"YOU! YELLOW HEAD!"

hudson's eyes widen, looking around.

but no, jay isn't here. and everyone else has dark hair. which can only mean…

hudson turns to face the girl approaching him, who looks comically angry. he can practically see steam coming out of her ears.

his eyes narrow. "are you talking to me?"

she's now right in front of him, pointing aggressively. "yeah i'm talking to you! don't you own this place?" she gestures to ansan's night club just ahead of them.

"i do. are you here to talk business? although…" he eyes her hoodie and sweatpants. "…you don't really look the part"

she blinks, not expecting a belittling so soon, but quickly shakes her head. "no i'm not here to talk business" she mimics his voice at the 'business' part. hudson feels a vein on his forehead throb.

"you need to turn the music down at night!" she huffs. "i can hear it from my window…" she points at an apartment building in the distance. "…all the way over there! some of us are trying to sleep, y'know?!"

he waits to see if she's finished her piece, before simply saying:

"0 points"

she blinks again. "…the fuck?"

"0 points. that's the score i give you. one…" he starts counting on his fingers. "…you show up sloppy. two. you disrespect me. and three. you start complaining about music when we're doing nothing wrong. where's your decorum?"

"...what- you-" she stammers, clearly speechless at his obviously correct evaluation.

she grits her teeth in frustration. "you wanna talk about decorum? it's not very um…decorum of you to play such loud music in the night!"

he sighs in disappointment. "bad grammar too. - 1 point"

"who gives a fuck?! now you're just nitpicking! and tell your employees to turn the music down!"

"…you're the only one complaining. why should i lower it for one person?"

she pauses, unable to think of a counterargument. "…um…"

hudson doesn't wait for her to finish. "ansan is critically acclaimed for its nightlife. it's what everyone comes here for. the loud music, which isn't even that loud by the way, is to be expected. if you don't like it, then move"

her jaw drops. "you…you ignorant, naive little─" she exhales slowly, composing herself.

"…can you just please turn it down?" she mumbles.

he runs a hand through his hair, getting tired of this argument now. "…like i said, you're the only one complaining. i'm assuming you didn't take this higher up, right? so, i have no obligation to lower it. come back with a court order and then we'll talk"

she sighs in defeat and starts walking back, flipping him off. "fine! but this isn't over, yellow head! i'll be back with that court order!"

hudson shrugs. "go ahead"

she can try, but it won't make a difference. channing can wrap anyone around his finger.

he shakes his head, heading back into the club. what an unsophisticated lady.

he hears her footsteps stop. "…your drinks are crap, by the way"

hudson hates that he can't hide his surprise, but the comment catches him off guard. "…what?"

she clearly notices it, because she wears an evil grin before continuing. "well…my friend likes to go clubbing a lot. she likes everything here, except the drinks"

now it's his turn to blink. well…the drink sales have been down lately. but everything else is in tip-top shape. he just put it down as an anomaly in the market.

he waves a hand dismissively, recovering from his brief surprise. "we take great care in analysing these things. we know what we’re doing. not that i'd expect you to understand"

she rolls her eyes and looks away for a moment. "...i'm not saying i know how to run a business or whatever. i’m just saying...my friend complains about the drinks all the time. and not just her ─ her other little clubbing friends say the same thing"

hudson tilts his head slightly, her words starting to pique his interest despite himself. "...what do her and her friends say?"

she shrugs. "i dunno. i don't really pay attention. she just says they’re kind of…boring, i guess? same old classics, nothing new or exciting. um…" she pauses, trying to remember. "oh yeah! seltzer's. they wish you had seltzer's here"

a flicker of curiosity crosses his face. "...seltzer's? you mean..."

"yeah, like the fruity, canned drinks everyone’s obsessed with these days" she speaks with less hesitance now.

"i work night shifts at the convenience store nearby, so i see what people like...and it matches up. everyone loves them. so i dunno, maybe there’s something to it"

he doesn’t respond, his mind starting to piece things together.

it's bizarre. they were just arguing a few minutes ago. now they're discussing alcoholic beverages.

she looks at him cautiously before continuing. "and uh...customers buy soju obviously, but they take a lot of fruit to go with it. strawberries and watermelon, stuff like that. it seems trendy these days. do you do soju cocktails?"

...they don't.

hudson stays quiet, arms crossed as he processes her words. she's not an expert, but she isn’t completely off the mark.

he hadn’t considered the problem might be the drinks themselves. ansan had always stuck with the classics, assuming they’d appeal to everyone, and it's worked for ages.

but maybe tastes were shifting. if soju cocktails and seltzers - which they didn't sell - were in demand...it could be worth researching what else customers like. lighter, trendier options…freshening up the menu could attract a whole new crowd, even boost overall sales.

the girl sighs, annoyed by his lack of response. "anyway, sorry. i went off on a tangent. keep serving whatever you want"

she turns, walking away again. "but i was serious about that court order, yellow head!"

hudson closes his eyes, feeling irritated. how has this not crossed his mind before? why does this random girl in sweatpants unknowingly know more than him?

her words stay in his head, and hudson knows he won’t be able to let it go.

"...wait" he says, sighing.

she turns around once more, her brows raising in confusion.

he pinches his nose bridge, preparing himself for what he's about to say. "that was...helpful. i suppose i could ask my guys to...turn the music down"

she stares at him, taken aback, before smiling. not the weird evil grin she wore earlier, a real one. "...you will? seriously? i just...really need some quiet, so i can study"

huh. "...yes" he says, a bit softly.

her smile grows wider, flashing her teeth at him. "wow...thanks a lot. really. i know it's a nuisance for you, yellow he-" she pauses, looking sheepish. "hey, what's your real name? i'll stop calling you yellow head now"

"hudson ahn...sun of ansan"

weird. he's talked to plenty of girls, all of them more beautiful than she is. why are his cheeks heating up now?

"...sun of ansan?" she covers her mouth, perhaps trying to stifle a laugh. "that's...cool"

"what's yours?" he can't help but avoid eye contact.

she looks pleasantly surprised. "me? i'm─"

─ beautiful. her name is beautiful. she is beau─ actually, what's he even thinking? is central seoul's romantic guy rubbing off on him?

hudson rummages in his pocket, handing her a business card. "here. it's my contact details. just in case you want to...point out anything else you notice"

she eyes it peculiarly, before shaking her head in disbelief. "i guess all business guys just have these handy, huh?"

still, she doesn't give it back, or tells him to get lost, or rips it up. instead, she keeps it.

she turns and starts walking away ─ for the final time. she looks back at him, waving the card as she speaks. "bye hudson ahn sun of ansan" she giggles. so, she was in fact, laughing at his title.

he watches her figure get smaller, the tiny dot turning into nothing.

a girl giving him business advice...and it's useful? he never thought he'd see the day.

he only saw her smile once, but he wouldn't mind seeing it again.

hudson heads back into the club, getting preparations ready for the night ahead.

she still lacks etiquette. she also giggled at the title he's so proud of. but...that doesn't stop him from muttering to himself.

"100 points"

A/N: okay...i know his hair is more light brown than yellow, but "brown head" doesn't have the same ring to it. just imagine...the sunlight makes it seem yellow, because he's the sun of ansan bye

divider: @thecutestgrotto

[auraisereigh]

"Haunted hours"

standalone

Brennan Sorrengail x reader Blurb: Brennan helps reader with Haunted sleepless nights. wc: 4.9 ☆ no spoilers for the books. yet another personal one that happened last night mentions of nightmares, terror, sleep paralysis. overthinking. i did make this one more neutrel so it's not completly how i felt last night but keep in mind its all very emotional and has to do with self-worth and insecurities. Uses pronouns: she/her., i think, i'm actually not sure but i'm too sick to check.

Masterlist ☆ Dragon guide ☆ Star's story ☆ Empyrean guide ☆ Support me

The days have been long, and the nights even longer. My mind is fine during the day, but at night, it spirals. Thoughts wander to unpleasant places, no matter how hard I try to keep them away.

Waking up at the start of the day, I felt fine. I was the same person who tried to be happy and positive about everything, no matter what. You’d barely notice a difference. Almost none at all. The only thing was that my heart felt heavy, and it ached.

At night, however, everything came crumbling down. My emotions and feelings would flood through me, and there was almost nothing I could do to stop them.

Brennan had noticed it, too. He’d tried to get me to sleep, but he always fell asleep before I did. It had been a few long weeks, and it made sense—he was exhausted.

Tonight was one of those nights. I lay wide awake while he slept beside me. I didn’t know what to do. I’d been wanting to read, but I would have to light a candle, and I didn’t want to risk waking him. He needed his sleep. It would be selfish to light a candle.

So I lay there, watching the clock tick past midnight. 1 a.m... 2 a.m...

Sleep medicine felt pointless. The moment I closed my eyes, the worries returned, haunting me. Staying awake seemed like the only way to escape them.

I sat up and pulled off my sweater. The more time passed, the hotter it became. Maybe it was Brennan’s body heat transferring to me. Not that I’d complain—I usually had to bundle myself up because I got cold so easily.

I tossed the sweater toward the end of the bed. At some point, I’d probably become cold again, and then I’d curse myself for throwing it that far.

I felt movement beside me and turned to see Brennan, who was supposed to be sound asleep. But as I looked at him, our eyes locked. His hair was disheveled, a little all over the place, but it only made him look softer.

“You’re still awake,” he whispered. His arm moved to my waist, his hand resting there as he caressed me.

He rolled onto his side and wrapped both arms around me, pulling me close. I let him, resting my head on his chest. I could feel and hear his heart beating. It had become one of the most soothing sounds in my life, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the voices in my head—the ones that kept whispering negative things.

“It’s okay, my love,” Brennan reassured me. One of his hands tangled in my hair, slowly massaging my scalp. I took a deep breath, inhaling his familiar scent.

He pulled back slightly so we could look at each other, his other hand cupping my face and tracing my cheek.

“You don’t have to talk about it. I know it’s harder for you at night, but I’m right here,” he murmured. His voice was raw with sleep, but his words soothed me in a way I couldn’t explain. Just knowing he was here, that I wasn’t alone, no matter how often I felt that way.

He pulled the thick blanket higher over us, cocooning us in its warmth. Both of his hands returned to my hair, and he pressed a tender kiss to my temple.

“Talk to me,” he said, looking at me expectantly. “Excuse me?” I replied, a little confused. I thought we’d settled that I didn’t want to talk about it now. Why bring it up again?

“Talk to me, smartie. Any fact or folklore that comes to mind. Just tell me,” he encouraged. His voice was smooth and gentle. He knew I’d spent hours reading and studying folklore, facts, and history. It was one of the most interesting things to me, even if parts of history were inaccurate.

I kept quiet for a while, my mind blank except for the emotional weight I’d been carrying. Everything keeps pilling up and there was nothing i could do to stop it, to make it feel lighter.

Brennan reached behind me and grabbed one of my three dragon plushies—a green one. He placed it beside us with delicate care. “What are green dragons known for?” he challenged softly, his gaze never leaving mine.

“Greens are known for being the most reasonable. Their original hatching grounds were at Basgiath, but after unification, they offered their grounds to all dragonkind, as it was the safest place for their hatchlings. It’s unknown whether both green dragon lines shared the same grounds before unification,” I recited smoothly. Dragon lore was my favorite. It also happened to be the topic I knew most about.

His eyes lit up slightly. “There’s my smart girl,” he praised, and my heart swelled at the nickname. I’d always loved nicknames—they made me feel loved and wanted.

He picked up another small plush, a blue one I’d named Tàlaidh, meaning lullaby. The blue dragon was my first dragon plush, and during nights of nightmares, terrors, and sleep paralysis, Tàlaidh was always there to make me feel safe. Even if it was silly.

He placed it next to the green. “What about blues?” he asked gently, his eyes still on me.

“Blues are ruthless, strong-willed, and lethal. They’re intimidating and rule-breakers,” I answered. My head started feeling heavy, my eyelids drooping as I spoke. “Impressive,” Brennan replied as his hand traced my shoulder.

Finally, he picked up the last plush—a slightly larger orange dragon—and placed it between the smaller ones. “Now, my love, what do you know about oranges? But be careful; your answer may determine how long this marriage lasts,” he teased.

I couldn’t help but crack a small smile. It wasn’t much, but even that tiny smile made me feel a little better.

“There’s that smile I love so much,” he whispered, softly brushing a strand of hair from my face.

“Oranges are unpredictable,” I started, closing my eyes for a moment. “Their original hatching grounds were in the Northern Esbens, but due to their unpredictable nature, they moved around the area a lot.” When I opened my eyes again, he was looking at me with such adoration that it made me wonder how I deserved it.

“And yours? You’re basically obsessed with your dragon,” he teased, his touch on my cheek soft and loving.

“Reds are loyal...” I began, but a yawn interrupted me, and I couldn’t bring myself to say more. Brennan must have noticed. He tucked me in closer, pressing a soft kiss to my temple before resting his head against mine, his arms wrapping around me.

“Let me continue,” he murmured lovingly against my temple. His voice started to fade as I drifted off. “Black dragons are rare. They are extremely smart...” His words became softer, a lullaby pulling me into sleep.

Brennan stopped speaking when he noticed I’d fallen asleep.

“Sleep well, my love,” he whispered. “I know it’s hard right now, but I vowed that I’d never leave you alone. And I never will.”

A promise.

♡

[tryagainstarlight]

Odile Friendquest!

💫 ( You both find a nice quite place to read the book )

💎 Haaa... I can't believe this took this long.

💫 ( You can't believe it yourself... But... A part of you hoped that it would of lasted longer. It was something different. )

( Odile looks at the closed family book intently. )

...

💫 "Aren't you going to read it...?"

💎 They said I could keep it until I have to leave Dormont, so I have time, but...

( Shes still looking at it. The book you spent so long to find. Why is it so important to her...? )

( You... Haven't thought of it in.. Ages. You gave up figuring it out countless of loops ago but... )

💫 "Is it related to your reasearch...?"

( Odile snaps out of her train of thought. She didn't hear you apparently, so you ask again. )

💎 Ah.. Hm...

💎 Well. I suppose I've kept it secret long enough. Don't tell Isabeau, alright?

( You find yourself leaning in, listening intently. You feel... Giddy? To finally know, to finally put the end of the hunt. )

💎 There is no research. I'm not researching anything....

💫 WHAT!?

( WHAT HUH??? WHAT!?? THERES NO REASEARCH!??????? WHAT )

( ALL THIS TIME THERE WAS NOTHING!?? )

( She takes notice of your absolutely dumbfounded expression and laughs, but her expression turns melancholy. )

💎 Sorry for not saying anything. Isabeau said I must be researching something, since I was a traveler here in Vaugarde...

💎 And it felt... Easier. To not say anything....

💫 Then.. why are you...?

💎 Why did I leave Ka Bue, travel for years, all to find myself in Vaugarde, if not for some intellectual pursuit?

💎Hm. Well...

💎 I'm actually here in Vaugarde...  To find out more about myself.

💎..I suppose it's not very apparent to you, but...

💎 My mother was Vaugardian.

( Huh. )

( You listen very intently to what she explains about her past and everything. )

( You never knew she was half Vaugardian. )

( Traviling halfway the country... To find more about herself and trying to see if she sees herself in a country she has no memory of.. )

( ... Stars. )

💎 What about you, [Not my name]? Are you finding out more about yourself, in Vaugarde?

💫 Huh?

💎 Well, you didn't grow up in Vaugarde either, right? Do you have roots here? Or were you just passing through?

( . . . )

💎 HA! Hm, my apologies. Forget I asked.

( You dont say anything, she looks back at the family tale. )

( ... She'll probably be fine with leaving this here. But. You feel it to be unfair to tell you about her story and not share yours. )

💫 "I... Don't remember anything where I'm from."(Odile turns to look at you.)

💎 huh...

💎 Were you too small when you left, or was it because there was nothing worth remembering?

( . . . )

( Hah.... Everything was probably worth remembering to Siffrin. But you, Loop, don't care. You've been in this perfect play for so long that you don't remember anything. Forever trapped in this memory someone so desperately wanted to keep safe. )

💫 "Neither."

💫 "But I can relate to you in a way. Trying to find peices where ever you can. Even if it's fruitless."

💎 Trying to find where you belong...?

( . . . )

💫 "Trying to see how your roots shaped you."

💎 Which parts of you, you created, and which parts already were...

( You curtly nod. )

( You will never know anyway. You can't bring yourself to care. )

( The next few words wash past your ears, accept... )

💎 One might say that's more important than being Ka Buan and Vaugardian, wouldn't you agree?

💫 "Oh... I do!"

💎 Heh..

💎 ...

💎 Ha, that's interesting...  I feel so much lighter now.

💫 ...?

💫 "Because we found a familytale...?"

💎 Yeeeees, and also because we talked, [Loop].

( Oh..! )

💎 Hah!!!

💎 Heh...  Thank you for listening to me, [Loop].

( She reaches out and pets your head. Messing up your eons unbrushed hair. Huh... That,, felt nice... You blush and nod, a little embarrassed )

💎 Heh

💎 Now get out of here! I have a familytale to read before we all meet for our sleepover.

💎 We'll talk later. Go have fun.

(Odile smiles at you mischievously. You smile, and wave her goodbye. )

...

ﾟ.+:｡ You got a MEMORY OF SECRET QUEST! You'll always remember this.

ﾟ.+:｡ When equipped, Memory of Secret Quest boosts all of your Researcher's stats by 30.

ﾟ.+:｡ Your Researcher also learned the skill "Craft Break α".

ﾟ.+:｡ Craft Break α" is strong. When used, it makes an enemy weaker to all CRAFT types for a few turns.

ﾟ.+:｡ It's so strong, you'll only be able to use it when you and your Researcher have had this exact conversation. So if you loop back to Dormont, you'll have to talk to her all over again.

[jetblack4realz]

protector - haymitch abernathy

not her

masterlist

after a week of teasing the capitol, haymitch has gotten really good at setting boundaries with pushy peacekeepers and sponsors.

warnings: sexualizing, allusions to sa and gross people, spoilers to sotr, age gap of like 3 years

word count: 2.6k

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

twelve more days in the capitol and twelve more parties to attend, each one decorated as a different district in "preparation" for your victory tour - though several capitol women complained about the tackiness of doing distrct 4 twice in one week from your first celebration.

you and haymitch had done your due diligence with flirting, the boy whisking you away for at least a dance or two each night and stealing your time with sponsors. he had expert timing, always stepping in when a man over forty was getting too close.

"honey, have you tried this?"

you didn't even turn, simply holding a hand out to accept the little pink eclair the district 12 boy was offering you. his hand settled on your waist securely and you could practically hear his overdramatic expression as he turned his attention to the green-haired gentleman opposite you.

"you into eclairs?" haymitch didn't wait for a response to continue, his other hand falling to your arm. "i'd never had one before i first came here for my games, but i think they're the best damn thing the capitol's come up with."

the man's brows raised, slightly hesitant and extremely confused. "oh, yes. yes i am a fan of the eclairs."

"who isn't?" haymitch chuckled, his breath hitting your ear as he began pulling you backwards with him. "now, if you'll excuse me i need to introduce our sparkly new victor to some friends."

you started to learn to do it too; those colorful capitol ladies sure had sweet spots for district 12's only living victor.

they weren't shy about their interest in him - hands on his arm or chest as they pushed bright colored drinks in his face and giggled on about how much of an eligible bachelor he was.

"oh haymitch, you would love this!" a woman looking to be about thirty chirped, a flamingo-pink margarita in her hand as she offered it to the younger boy. she was stood entirely too close to him with her free hand on his upper arm, leaving a faint purple stain on his white shirt. "it's bubblegum flavored."

you quickly snatched a glass of whiskey off the tray of a passing server, spinning as you slid up to his side with a hand on his back and the glass just slightly in front of the other lady's. "here, h. noticed you were out."

he took it from your hand, smiling gently in your direction as you turned your eyes to the lady you recognized from the sponsor booths who'd been supporting your district partner. "he's into dark liquors, not the fun, bright stuff like the rest of us. i'd be happy to try it though, thank you!"

they were all talking about you two. everyone. just as you hoped.

whispers as he pulled you around the parties, pictures snapped when you met for a meal or went on a walk, giggling questions about the other whenever approached.

"are you dating haymitch abernathy?"

you looked up with wide eyes, glancing sideways at mags before turning your attention to the young teen in front of you. "sorry?"

"are you dating him?" she repeated, a hand settling on her hip as she looked over your blue sundress that seemed rather simple in comparison to her flamboyant toile bubble of a dress. "because my dad was going to introduce us at the party last night and instead he was all caught up with you."

you laughed a bit, shaking your head. "no, sweetheart, we're not officially dating."

"unofficially?"

"i don't see how that's any of your business," you answered as politely as possible.

she scoffed. "well, i'm gonna be at the party tonight too. i'll find him and no one will be wondering if you two are dating again." she hesitated, thinking through her words again. "because it'll be me. he'll be dating me."

"well, i look forward to seeing you tonight," you told her with a smile. "we'll be at the bar so you can find us - oh, except it's 18 and older..."

she paused, racking her brain for any sort of way she could get out of that situation and hopefully into haymitch's arms. after a few moments she just scoffed and walked away.

you laughed to mags when you saw caesar's gossip review later that day, quoting an anonymous witness saying that you admitted to being in an unofficial relationship with haymitch.

you even saw a headline in the capitol newspaper:

“Seashells & Sass: Y/n Flanagan and Haymitch Abernathy Spark Romance Rumors!”

it was night 7, the theme following suit.

you felt like a tree, in a skin tight, bark-patterned dress and a headdress of leaves that you were pissed your stylist placed on your head. it sounded like streamers being shook around every time you moved and bobbed in and out of your eyesight as you tried to talk to people.

"i love your leaves!" a girl in a similar brown dress to yours complemented, one hand rising to mess with the little green fabric pieces.

"really? thank you!" you said, smiling as you reached to pull them off. "here! you can wear them. they'd look darling with your dress."

"oh, you're so kind!" she chirped, accepting the headband with a wide smile and slipping the canopy of leaves onto her hair.

behind her, a man in different shades of green all over his suit popped out of the crowd, his eyes immediately landing on you. his short black hair had green sparkles gelled into it, shimmering against the light of the overhead chandeliers, and to you he just looked like the embodiment of disgust. when he met your eyes, your face fell for a moment before you picked it right back up and focused back on the girl in front of you, pushing a leaf to the side to see her face better.

"don't even thank me," you told her, patting her arm as you moved past her towards the bar. "you have a good night!"

you didn't even hear her response. "gigi! hey, gigi!"

mags turned with furrowed brows as you stood in front of her barstool. "what is it, dear?"

"i have to get out of here," you said, shaking your head as you let out an exhausted breath. "i don't think i've gotten a full night of sleep since before the reaping and there's this guy who keeps following me around."

"what?" she asked, moving to stand before you rested a hand on her arm to stop her. "who?"

"i can't remember what he said his name was, but he's about my height-" you held a hand to the top of your head for reference "-dressed head to toe in the ugliest shades of green ever, and keeps making comments about how surprised he is a girl of my age can have the curves that i do in this dress."

she was about to say something, her brows knitted into a glare, but then you added quickly with a glance to the side:

"oh, and he's on his way over to me again."

she followed your gaze and presumably spotted the man before she looked back to you. "has haymitch been with you?"

"yes, but never when he comes around. i think that's strategic," you answered. "so, i think i'm gonna head back to my room. can you cover for me?"

"don't go alone, darling," she said, shaking her head. "i'll come with you."

"no, i'm fine, really," you insisted, waving her suggestion away.

"just, hold on-"

you glanced to the side and the man was moving quicker towards you.

"gigi, i'm gonna go. i really don't want to deal with all of this right now," you told her, moving to the side to slip out the door beside the bar.

"sweetie, honestly-"

"well, hello again."

both yours and mags' eyes snapped to the side, tensing at the sight of the glittery fifty-something year old.

"oh. hello," you answered politely.

"figaro," he said, grinning widely as he told you his name and held his hand out towards you. "i know you must be meeting so many people that you forgot. totally understandable. but, i promise you won't forget it by the end of the night."

"except unfortunately my granddaughter's night has come to an end," mags told him, the man lowering his hand as he looked at the woman. "she's exhausted and feeling ill, so if you'll excuse us-"

"oh, i'd be happy to walk her to her room," figaro said. "no need for your night to end."

"no, that's quite alright. i will take her," she answered, her lips set in a thin line as she eyed him.

"i insist," the man said, reaching forward to take your arm and step towards the door you were previously trying to escape out of. "it's no problem." and then he leaned closer to you, a sickly sweet smile on his lips as they hovered by your ear. "i was hoping to take up some of your night. like i said earlier, i'll get you to remember my name by the end of it."

"no," you said sharply, pulling your arm from his grasp and stepping back towards mags. "no."

"no?" he repeated.

"no," you said, frowning deeply. "no, i can't even imagine why you would-"

"do we have a problem here?"

a peacekeeper. all dressed in white with a gun on his hip. and his eyes were on you.

"yes, actually," you said. "this man won't leave me alone. if you could escort me back to my room, that would be greatly appreciated."

he eyed you for several moments before glancing at the man to your left and back to you. "i believe president snow requested that you be as accommodating to our sponsors as possible."

you were dumbfounded, your mouth dropped open and your brows knitted. next to you, mags was obviously frustrated, but a certain knowing was in her expression too as she reached to squeeze your hand.

"actually, he didn't."

the peacekeeper spun around to find panem's favorite golden-haired, whiskey-drowning victor, his brows raised questioningly at the peacekeeper.

"those rules may apply to some of our fellow victors, but not her," he continued, stepping between you and the two other men, setting his glass on the bartop beside mags. "you get that? not her."

you and your grandmother both held your breath as you watched the expressions of the peacekeeper and figaro morph from annoyance to confusion to a strange mix of frustration, knowing, and fear.

what sparked that?

the spark then reached for your hand behind his back and you took it gratefully.

"if you could relay that information to your friends - both of you - that would be lovely," haymitch said. "we're going to leave now and neither of you are going to have any issues with it, because you have no reason to. are we clear?"

another beat of silence before the peacekeeper nodded. "yes sir."

"good, that's what i like to hear. and you, my lovely green friend?"

"crystal clear."

"wonderful. you all have a wonderful night now," he said with a false smile, turning and keeping you and mags in front of him as he moved towards the door. when your grandmother pushed the door open he glanced over his shoulder at figaro and lifted a hand vaguely in his direction. "you have some... glitter in your hair, by the way. just thought you should know."

and then he slipped into the hallway after you and mags, shutting the door firmly behind him.

he shot you both a smile. "alright ladies, let's head home."

one hand hovered over the small of your back as he walked you both back to your rooms, taking the elevator and dropping off mags first before walking down the rest of the hallway to yours.

"thank you," you told him when he came to your side again. you took his hand. "seriously."

"no problem. hopefully they get the memo from now on," he huffed.

"hopefully."

"and if they don't i'll just rescue you again," he told you, smiling gently as you guys stepped in the elevator to go up to your room. you pressed the button for the appropriate level. "i never have an issue with playing hero for a bit."

you hesitated. "are they going to try again? like... when you're not here? when gigi isn't here? what do i - what do i do then?"

"it won't happen," he told you, hands moving to grip your upper arms gently and slowly rubbed them up and down. "it won't. don't answer the door unless you know it's me or mags. just pretend you're asleep and if they keep knocking message me on my intercom. i'll come."

"you'll come."

"i'll come," he said again. "i promise."

"okay," you said quietly. "thank you. you didn't need to do all of this."

he shrugged, his hands stopping their movements and staying still on your arms. "i don't mind it. really."

except you thought he did. you could assumed how exhausting all of this probably was. how much effort he had to put into socializing. not that he ever said it - he's only been kind. but, you know it isn't easy. this is a threat to him too.

you threw your arms around his neck, squeezing tightly as you felt his arms wind around your waist securely, hugging you back. "thank you, haymitch. for helping me."

"i'm here for you," he mumbled into your hair. "and i will be for as long as you need me to be."

you pulled back with a sad laugh. "even if that means forever because i'm too damn scared to go it alone?"

he tucked your hair behind your ear with a gentle frown as he considered your words. several beats of silence passed before he finally answered: "you're not weak because you're scared of being hurt, you know. i'm scared too. believe it or not, being with you like this has made it... easier."

"oh." it was all you could come up with, however idiotic it was.

but then the doors opened and haymitch was pulling you out after him.

"you're really good at this, by the way," he said. "or, at least, you've gotten better. the whole flirting thing? you're very convincing now."

"it's, uh, gotten easier," you said with an awkward laugh.

he laughed gruffly. "ditto."

did he mean what you meant by that?

probably not. no. he didn't want this. but, well, neither did you.

it wasn't long before you reached your door and you lifted your wristband to the lock to let you in. it flashed green and then you paused before pushing it open. you clicked the authorizing code on the little screen, resetting the lock controls with another tap of your wristband before turning back to haymitch.

"give me your wrist," you said, reaching for his left hand.

"what?"

"i need your wrist." and then you just grabbed it, holding up his own coded wristband until the light flashed green again. his eyes were on you as he realized what you did, his brows furrowing. but, before he could ask the question, you spoke again. "just so if anything happens you know and you can get in. it sends me notifications when someone goes in that's not me... now you know too." you hesitated. "is that alright?"

"smart," he hummed. "how else am i supposed to be the hero?"

you smiled. "just trying to help you out."

"well, i appreciate it," he said, tilting his head at you. he reached a hand out to brush your arm, sending a wave of goosebumps over your skin. "you get some rest. i'm just a walk away."

"yeah," you nodded. "okay."

"goodnight," he said and you pushed your door open.

"goodnight."

[pennyserenade]

common people | jim o'mahony (the delinquent season) x reader

summary | old enough to know better, but too exhausted by life to really think about it, you have an affair with a man you met on the bus. rating | (explicit) tags/warnings | explicit smut, questionable morals, age gap (reader is in her mid to late 20s, jim is in his early 40s), pinv, angst, infidelity, unprotected sex word count | 3.6k+ a/n | this is sadder than i intended it to be, and perhaps less sexy because of it because at the end of the day i fear i'm a thought daughter more than a thot daughter. one day we'll find the balance, girls. just not today. love ya

The line that drew you here – sitting on the bed in your shoddy three bedroom flat with your mouth wrapped around Jim’s fingers – is by no means a straight and narrow one.

It had begun with a glance. You had done it because you wanted to feel seen. Jim had sat on the opposite side of the bus, wearing a puffy winter jacket, his black hair peppered compelling with visible grays, and his face had been indifferent as he watched out the window of the bus. With his arms crossed over his chest and his lips pressed into a pout, he struck you as an interesting subject. You had allowed your eyes to roam over the sharp sculpt of his jaw, and to inspect the enticing dust of freckles along the bridge of his nose, which danced out to the hollow of his cheeks. Then you caught his eyes as he turned his head in your direction. The sweet thrill of being noticed itched up your spine, just the way you were used to it doing.

Jim hadn’t let his face of plain indifference shatter in the wake of being watched, but you knew that he was watching you too, and that was enough. That wasn’t to say he was special. There’d been other people - other men - whom you had engaged in this game of sorts with before. Before Jim, it really meant nothing. You did it with people you didn’t even find all that attractive, just to know you could. There was the power in the act of maintaining eye contact with these people, and you liked the ambiguity that resided in the length of your stares–what it could suggest, or what it could lead to, even though it never had. The only thing that separated Jim from all of them was that he looked back for longer, and in his eyes you saw something more potent.

Sometimes you wonder, the way you, as the other woman, are apt to do, about the way he is different for his wife. Does he gather her in his lap? Does she put her mouth around his fingers and does he hum in delight for her, too? Or is this yours, just as that first shared glance was on the bus?

His fingers sit heavy on your tongue now. They taste of nothing. You arch into his body and his lips form into a smirk that makes you bloom inside with an insidious warmth. This man is someone’s husband, and he is spending a Tuesday afternoon in your bedroom. He is the creature of adulthood that lurks in your barely post-graduation adobe, a shape of security who sometimes brings your flatmates bottles of inexpensive ale and dinner to keep them amiable when his wedding band gleams in their direction. To make matters worse, he is older than you – so much so that you wouldn’t like to tell your mother about it, even if he wasn’t married.

Drawing his wet fingers out of your mouth, Jim trails them down your body, bunching up the fabric of your sleep shorts between his fists like a greedy child. You reach between your bodies and pull the leather out of his belt buckle. The clack of it resounding through your stuffy room makes you feel obscene and naughty. He marvels at the way you take initiative, his blue eyes following the diligent movements of your fingers as they work the belt through the hoops in his pants.

He leans back on the bed for you, and with a soft sigh, he accepts the cold tips of your fingers dancing across the skin of his lower stomach. You linger there, tickling over the hair below his belly button, relishing in the warmth his body has trapped beneath his jumper.

Before you pull the sweater up any higher, he takes your eager hands in his palms. “I didn’t even ask you how your day was yet, you know?” he says, voice airy—too light for how earnest you feel about fucking him.

A coil of frustration winds up inside of you. It must be treason, these small intimacies of his. Not only is he a husband but a father, too: an island of his own; a man with a country to abandon, to betray.

You offer him a placid smile. “It was slow. I was waiting for you.” Your fingers escape his grasp and he winces when they race out to his warm skin again.

“Mine was fine too, thanks,” he laughs, his own fingers gripping onto your hips. You ignore him, in no mood for conversation.

Jim allows you to draw his shirt above his arms. He pulls you closer against him after you do, your body flat against his exposed chest. You can smell the tea you made him on his breath, and feel the lustful fascination he has with you poking against your hip. He may be the most interesting thing that has ever happened to you, and you might be his.

You snake your hand down the front of his jeans, measuring the width of his want, the strength of your appeal. “Fuck,” he hums against your mouth. The deep timbre of his voice runs through you, causing slick to gather between your legs.

Jim opens his mouth for you, licking his tongue against yours as his fingers slide down the slope of your stomach to your clothed cunt. When you draw out a surprised breath, Jim inhales, taking your air before pressing his lips harshly upon yours. One hand curls round the back of your neck, holding you there. There’s a primal aspect to this, some need that existed before the both of you being manifested. His other hand cups your cunt, and he watches with invested interest as you grind down into his palm, desperate for release of any kind.

After a few moments of you grinding above him, Jim retracts his hand from you. Smiling, he takes off your shirt as you undo your bra. It’s a dance you’ve practiced so many times together, and it happens without falter or failure this time. You fist a handful of his salt and pepper hair as his warm tongue traces circles around your freshly exposed nipple.

Moaning softly, you rut against his crotch, trying to relieve the ache that grows between your legs as the warmth of his mouth wets your pert nipple. His tongue begins to trail up, wetting the skin of your chest, and he guides you back on to the bed. Nibbing softly at the skin below your ear, Jim’s hands slip off your shorts. You help, raising up your hips.

He smiles down at you, a soft, gentle thing, and you feel like a co-conspirator–a shameful title, but oddly thrilling all the same.

“Oh, Jim,” you say softly, before he has even touched you. Caging your lip between your teeth, you watch him as he stands on his knees before you, making room between your legs. Your head feels full. He doesn’t even bother with taking off his slacks. With the tip of his cock leaking already, he strokes himself, showing you, allowing you to see what you wanted to all those months ago on that bus: how much he wants you, how much you can be wanted. It is an accident– an incredible error–that you throb at him looking at you lovingly as much as wantonly these days.

You’ve read the reddit forums: women, like you, who know better and do wrong anyway. You’ve read entire threads about the reasons why they do it, and how they cope with it, and most of all, you search out the women who have seen themselves all the way through it. It scares you to think of all the paths this could lead to, when it wasn’t ever meant to lead to anywhere. Will you be the jilted lover in the end? One of the women who talk about how liberating it is to be free from something so private and soul crushing? Or will you end up concocting a story with him like the women who marry their men do? The ones who say they met on vacations or in bars months after the divorces have been filed so as not to be treated cruelly by the public? And could you live being either of those things?

“Missed you so goddamn much,” Jim whispers against your mouth, bracketing your head between his hands. You take his bottom lip between your teeth, kissing him hard, pulling him more closely to your body, as if your desire will eradicate that you want more than just lust from him these days.

He lines himself up to your entrance, his intense eyes watching your face twist up as he inches inside of you slowly. Jim is thick, and a little bigger than the other men you’ve been with in the past. It takes a moment for you to adjust around him, but he gives you it, kissing you tenderly until he‘s bottomed out inside of you. “Gotta be quiet,” he whispers against your lips. He swallows harshly then, as if having to digest his own sounds.

You feel the ghost of his breath against your chest when he hangs it down, watching the way you connect together. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you allow him to go deeper, pleading with him inaudibly to stay inside for longer. His hand pushes strands of your hair away from your face. Sweat begins to gather between your bodies, and he moves inside of you with the care of someone who is used to being discreet.

When the bed begins to creak beneath the sway of his hips, something primal unfurls inside of you. It is evidence that this is real. Evidence he allows - that he encourages - his needy fingers moving down, griping the flesh of your thigh as his cock slides back inside of you with ease. He grunts against your shoulder. “Fuck. Fuck, you’re so wet, darling,” he says. “Wanted me badly?”

You nod, turning to your head to capture his lips. You slide your hand underneath the waistband of his slacks, gripping onto his ass, guiding the movements of his hips as they press into your own. You feel an overwhelming desire for him, a thing bigger than you would like. It is warm, and blinding, and makes you stupid. “Wish you could be inside of me all day,” you say, meaning it.

“Fuck,” he whines. “I want—I want that, too. You’re taking me so good.”

You can feel the increasing ease with which he settles deeper and deeper into your body. “You make me feel so good,” you tell him. Your voice feels like it’s coming from some place deep inside of you, another version, who wants everything and can say it.

“Do I?” he manages to say, eyebrows threading together. He’s not really paying attention to what’s coming out of his mouth no more than you are. His eyes drop, looking at you beneath him, and then his head does too. His mouth wraps around your pebbled nipple, tongue swiping against your chest. He hums: the same satisfied song he sang you when you put your mouth around his fingers.

“Do you fuck her like this?” something inside of you speaks, hungry, desperate, needy. “Your wife?”

Too turned on to stop, or perhaps prepared for this inevitable question of yours, Jim gives an abashed, crooked smile, but does not stop.

“I fuck you like this,” he whispers, his voice low and sultry. It is such a non-answer, clever and just right. His hand comes up and gropes at your breast.

For a moment you imagine it, let the whole idea take place. Some woman you do not know, a faceless but important woman, older and wiser. She wears a wedding band on her left ring finger, and is elegant and caring. He has told you that she likes to go to the theater, and that she is a good mother. She is not the type to cheat. In fact, she is hardly the type to have a husband that cheats, either, but then life can be impossibly cruel, and not what you imagined it might be. Jim pulses inside of her, telling her he loves her, meaning it, probably. When she says she loves his cock inside of her, it doesn’t sound needy or submissive but erotic, demanding, and he asks her for another child, maybe. The things you do to save a marriage.

A man can only have so much, and you’ve never been particularly demanding. You won’t win this. Even here, under him: you want to give him everything, to allow him to tell you what to be and when to be it. His hand curls around your mouth, his head burying in the hollow of your neck. There is the warmth of his tongue against your flushed skin, and the idea that he could leave whatever marks he might like on you, despite the fact that you can’t do the same to him. You’d let him, happily. This he knows.

He does not tell you that he loves you, but instead mutters, “I want to make you feel good.”

In some ways, you have more than his wife does. Maybe what he’s given you has more weight, more truth; maybe it will last indefinitely longer than marriage vows that have been said and broken. You grip onto one of his arms as he pushes inside of you. You tell him, “You are.”

His skin has grown damp and warm beneath your fingers. You run your hands down his back, becoming intimate with the muscle and sinew of his frame as it writhes above yours. He grunts as the movement of his hips become more frantic—shorter and steadier thrusts, the creak of the bed too loud as he settles himself deeply inside of you.

It doesn’t make you feel embarrassed. It doesn’t even make you ashamed. An overwhelming flame of desire engulfs your soul, and all you can focus on is the way he feels: hot, warm, the full length of him stretching you and yet still looking to go deeper and deeper still. His mouth finds your shoulder, and you listen as he pants against the flesh there, stalling an inevitable end. He slows down, and you relish the slow push and pull he does with his hips. You’re sure you’ve never been so wet in your life, and he seems to agree, moaning at the sound of your cunt taking him.

“I want to ride you,” you puff out, brushing your lips against his ear. He nods eagerly in agreement, and you assist in pulling down his slacks until they’re hanging around his ankles.

Deftly, he kicks them off into a dark corner of your room, and then looks up at you, light eyes clouded with lust. “I love when you tell me things like that,” he tells you softly.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” His hand finds your breast, his mouth sliding across the column of your throat. “You’re so fucking hot. You gonna cum on my cock?”

He twitches inside you and you kiss him hard on the mouth. “Yes,” you whisper back.

Jim pulls out of you slowly. He sits in the spot next to you on the bed, lifting himself up onto his elbows in anticipation. You straddle him, gripping onto his shoulder for balance. He offers you a tender smile as his fingers grip onto your hip in encouragement. “Take what you want, then,” he nods.

Your fingers wrap around his cock, slick and hot, and his eyes dart down to watch as you line him up to your entrance. As you slide down onto him, Jim closes his eyes, leaning his head back against his shoulder and moaning softly. He looks so beautiful like that: his jaw clenching just beneath the surface of his taut skin, his hair mussed from your hands running through it, his cheeks glowing red from desire.

You press your chest to his and kiss the middle of his throat. His fingers travel over the swell of your ass, and you begin to move your hips for him. “That’s it,” he hums, opening his eyes. You maintain eye contact as you draw up off of him. It is as if you are the only two people in the world, your hands playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, the head of his cock sitting at your entrance. He lets out a sigh in relief when you slide back onto him. One of his hands reaches up and splays out across the small of your back, guiding you as you move. Your breathing becomes more shallow, and the hazy sensation of an orgasm begins to grow in your pelvis as you grind down into him.

Sensing this, Jim’s lips twitch up into a smirk. “So tight for me,” he mutters. His lips brush against your warm chest. “Fuck, and you’re wet. Not gonna last much longer like this.”

You tuck your face into his neck, panting softly as your hips roll into his. You listen to the soft grunts that fall involuntarily from his lips, and think about him cumming inside of you. He’s done it once before, and you liked it more than you should—it’s another sign of his desire for you to devour.

The orgasm hits you in waves and you gasp, gripping helplessly at his shoulder for purchase. Every limb in your body seems to give into the sensation, until you are reduced to nothing but that warm glow spreading rapidly through you. He kisses along your shoulder, your collarbone, tucking an arm around your back to support you as you slump down onto him.

You feel him twitch dangerously inside of you, and know that if you go for a little longer, he’ll cum too. Gathering the last of your strength, you lift your hips, watching between your bodies as his cock plunges inside of you. His fingers brush against your stomach, and the air between you becomes little more than a shared moan.

“I’m gonna cum,” he warns. He gives you the choice of what to do. You rest your head against his, your noses brushing against each other as you pick up the pace. He cums inside of you with a strangled gasp, and you smile when the hot spurts of his want fill you. His fingers press into your sides, his body stiff beneath you.

For a moment you sit like that, his cock buried impossibly deep inside of you, your fingers intertwined in his hair. Sweat mats his fringe to his forehead in places, and he swallows harshly, his breathing labored. You can’t find it in yourself to be ashamed that you don’t want to part from him as you brush his hair away from his eyes, smiling.

He smiles back, content. All the lust that once filled his eyes is replaced with an affection you consider infinitely more dangerous. You lay against his shoulder and close your eyes. His heart thuds against the cage of his chest and his fingers stroke your back softly.

“I’m sorry for what I asked,” you murmur. The shame finds its way to you.

“It’s s’alright.” His lips brush against your shoulder. “I haven’t fucked her in a long time. Not like that. I’m not saying that just to make you feel better.”

“It doesn’t make me feel any better.” You lift your head off of him, meeting his eyes. “None of this does.”

“Do you want to stop?”

“You’re still in me, for Christ’s sake,” you laugh. He laughs too, and you know that’ll probably be the end of the conversation. A part of you is happy to let it go. You’re not ready to end this, even though you know you should. You don’t feel like the other woman, after all. She was meant to be more clever than this, wasn’t she? You feel like you’ve fallen into something you can’t get out of, something you’re terrified to even approach for what it might say about you.

“Hey,” he nudges his nose along your jaw. “You alright, then?”

“Sure,” you nod. “Stay a little while longer?”

“Yeah, of course.” He pats the hair on your head down, laying back on the pillow behind him. You rise up off of him, but still straddle his thighs. He holds you close, wrapping his arms around your torso. You can feel his cum trickle out of you.

“I like you a lot, if that’s any consolation. More than I should,” he tells you. “Enough to frighten me, really. I never thought I’d be this guy, you know? The cheater, especially with a younger woman. I don’t—you were the first I’ve ever felt anything for, you know?”

You lay your head on his chest again, and let out an amused laugh — though nothing feels particularly amusing. “Jim?”

“Yes?”

“You don’t have to convince me of anything.”

“Right.” He kisses your temple, staying there for a moment before pulling back and saying, “I’m just saying. I don’t want you to look back on this and think I thought of this as meaning nothing. It’s a big thing for me, too.”

You let out of a soft sigh, tracing up his freckled arms with your finger. “Jim?”

“Yes?”

“Will you fuck me again? I don’t want to talk about this anymore. ”

He laughs softly, kissing below your ear. “Of course,” he responds, his hot breath cascading across your sensitive neck. “Only this time, tell me what you want, love. I want to hear you say it.”