#he swears she knows where the nets are AND YET

[witchlingsandwyverns]

My life was a storm, since I was born How could I fear any hurricane? If someone asked me at the end I'll tell them put me back in it Darling, I would do it again,  If I could hold you for a minute

- Hozier, "Francesca" (X)

I did it! I finished a mermay before the end of May!!!!

[wife-of-all-dilfs]

rosé | f. odair

(final part of red wine)

part one, part two

summary: in the final part of the red wine series, secrets are revealed, and miscommunication threatens to tear you and finnick apart.

pairing: finnick odair x reader

warnings: angst, fluff, blood, minor injury, mentions of forced prostitution, swearing,

notes: i’m sorry this took so long to come out y’all. thank you to everyone who read and enjoyed this mini fic <3

word count: 4.1k

Finnick believed he had made a lot of smart decisions in his life—like rigging a net made out of vines to ensnare tributes in the arena, accepting secrets as a form of payment from his patrons rather than material goods, and mastering the art of seduction to manipulate his way out of various difficult situations. However, shutting you out was not one of them.

Half an hour had passed since the incident on the staircase landing. He lingered within the mansion’s extravagant walls, where other guests mingled and dined on a range of bizarre delicacies. He couldn’t eat a thing. His stomach churned at the image of your hopeless expression as he walked off. The expression he caused.

It had to be done. That is what he had been telling himself. It had to be done, otherwise, everyone in the Capitol would learn of his feelings for you. Snow would find out and most likely punish you for interfering with the arrangement he had—the sale of his body. And Finnick was very aware of what happened to people who disrupted the president’s plans.

Partygoers would have already begun to spread rumours of the scene in the courtyard. Hopefully, it would just be chalked up to a simple argument between friends. Friends. The label borderline disgusted him. You don’t fall asleep to the thought of someone and think of them the moment you wake up if you’re just friends. Nor do you look for them in every room you walk into.

Even now, Finnick was scanning the lavishly decorated banquet hall for a glimpse of your pure white gown, despite being the one who walked away. It was an instinct at this point. But there was no one in the room wearing white but him; his matching half was still outside, blending in with the winter snow. Or maybe gone home.

One colour did catch his eye though. A vibrant, almost tacky red, worn by a woman who was strutting towards him, her chin held high with pride. Finnick noticed the material of her floor-length gown. Silk. She was wearing your old dress, only the colour was incredibly off, and each hem was lined with red fur, conforming with her implanted whiskers. That was when he realised who the woman was.

Her ensemble was entirely made out of fur that clung to her body, complementing the whiskers that were embedded in her face which made her look feline.

“Where’s your dancing partner tonight?” she asked, her voice low and seductive.

The bright saturation of her dress was almost blinding as she stopped in front of him. He held back a grimace and plastered on a smile even faker than her voice. “She wasn’t up for it this time,” he lied.

“Well, everyone knows she’s out of touch with our way of life,” she said. Finnick ground his jaw, struggling to maintain his façade. Words could not explain how condescending these people were. “This dress is an adaptation of one she wore quite a while ago. Such a plain thing. I only liked the colour and bodice. The only way I could wear it in public was if I spruced it up.”

He thought back to the dress you had worn. Nobody had even come close to how phenomenal you looked. Where others needed extravagance and flounce to stand out, you only needed a simple red dress. Yet here this woman was, thinking she had the audacity to call you plain.

“I noticed. It’s very… striking.”

“Thank you, darling,” she purred. There was a predatory gleam in her eyes, like that of a wild cat about to pounce and devour its meal. “I was waiting for the perfect occasion to wear it.”

His forced smile twitched. “You’re certainly turning heads.”

“Did I turn yours?” she asked, batting her eyelashes.

Truth be told, Finnick hadn’t even remembered her existence until she walked right up to him. Obviously, he couldn’t tell her that, so he told her that she did. For a long period of time, they bounced back and forth, complimenting and flirting with each other, never dipping below the surface into a real conversation. Not that he wanted to anyway. Not with her. The only person he longed to conversate with was now out of reach.

The woman started talking about colourless topics such as the latest fashion trends in the Capitol and her opinions on the victor of the 72nd Hunger Games, all of which made Finnick wish she would just gouge his eyes out with her sharp claw-like fingernails. He couldn’t do anything but stand, smile, and agree. Doing anything else would result in Snow staying true to his very detailed threats

As the conversation continued, his attention began to drift. He surveyed the outfits of everyone in the room, amusing himself by deciding whether or not each person was making a fashion statement or tragedy. Only one person claimed the former title—the one in white.

Finnick watched as you entered the room. The giant golden chandelier cast down a bright light which caused your skin to glow with radiance; its glare enhanced the brilliance of your white dress. This brief moment ignited a fear in him that you had died in his absence because there was no way a mere human being could look so angelic.

“Finnick?” the feline asked, but her voice barely registered in his brain.

Captivated. He was utterly and completely captivated. One after the other, sudden realisations conjured in his mind. The first—there wasn’t a life worth living ahead of him if you weren’t by his side the whole way, and not as a friend or a fellow victor, but as his partner. His lover. The second—he would never let any harm come to you. He would keep you safe from Snow’s clutches, from the Capitol, from anyone who would put you in danger, even if it meant the two of you had to disappear into the vast forests of Panem.

And lastly, he was now absolutely certain that the woman in front of him could never compare to you, nor could anyone else in the ever-expanding universe. You were a basic human necessity to him. Without you, his heart might as well stop beating. Your laugh, your smile, your kindness, your unwavering support—every part of you kept him alive.

“Finnick?” the voice that went disregarded hissed again.

With a half-empty wine glass in hand, your anxious eyes searched the room. Finnick wanted nothing more than to sprint over, pull you into his arms, and cast away every trouble plaguing your mind. He couldn’t. Almost all eyes were on you, yet you hadn’t even seemed to notice. Only one person finally seemed to gain your attention, and that was Finnick, standing in the middle of the room, his eyes locked on yours.

The neurons firing in his brain signalled him to move and he did. But just as his legs started to walk, a forceful hand jerked his face to the side and a pair of harsh lips were crushed to his. Glass shattered on the marble flooring. Momentarily paralysed from shock, Finnick stumbled backwards, briefly catching the twisted triumphant smirk on the woman’s face before whirling around.

Your face was frozen with devastation; his heart dropped. Splatters of red wine had stained your gown, pooling in a crimson puddle of glass shards by your feet. Quiet mocking chuckles and whispers echoed around the room. Oh, if only he had his trident; they wouldn’t be laughing then.

An Avox rushed forward, attempting to clean up the mess, but you had crouched down with them.

“No, please,” Finnick heard you say to the Avox as he strode toward you. “Please don’t. I can do it.”

But delicate hands and glass shards never mix well. You gasped in pain. A jagged fragment you collected had sliced into your palm, creating another crimson pool in your hand.

Finnick’s strides quickened, eventually leading him to stop and kneel beside you. He wordlessly took your hand in his, cradling it as he inspected the damage. Blood coated his fingers, but he didn’t care. He might as well have cut your hand himself. None of this would have happened if it weren’t for him.

Pink blush overtook your face. For once, it wasn’t because he made you flustered or bashful, but because you were humiliated. He knew how much you disliked attention; now you were at the centre of it. Beside you was the Avox, tending to the mess of broken glass.

“Could you bring me a first-aid kit, please?” he asked with a polite smile.

They nodded and silently left. Finnick returned his attention to you, applying pressure to your wound. Your gaze was lowered, unwilling to meet his own. There was more to your demeanour than just embarrassment. There was sadness. Disheartenment. Neither of which were present when you walked in, only appearing after the feline woman had kissed him.

His brows furrowed in confusion. “Y/N—”

“Don’t,” you whispered, eyes unmoving.

The Avox returned holding a medical kit; Finnick thanked them, taking the box into his hands. He climbed to his feet, hesitating before offering you a hand up. Much to his relief, you accepted his assistance. And then, without a word, you began walking towards the nearest exit with apparent indifference to the engrossed eyes following you.

Finnick didn’t bother to conceal his icy glare toward the crowd as he trailed behind you and exited the room.

*******

Pain of a thousand unrelenting bees stung the broken flesh of your palm. Even the slightest movement of your fingers sent waves of throbbing agony up your arm. But it was nothing compared to the brutal ache of your heart.

You had entered the mansion in search of Finnick, determined to mend the crack in your friendship before it crumbled completely. What you got instead was humiliation and heartbreak. What you saw was another woman kissing the man you loved, whilst wearing a horrible adaptation of your red gown no less.

The air had been sucked from your lungs. Believing he would kiss you on the dance floor in the courtyard was nothing more than a fantasy, a dream, a pathetic fool’s wish—every term under the sun that defined something not real. At least now you understood why he was acting so differently. Because he had found someone else and that someone wasn’t you.

A lump formed in your throat and you knew tears were approaching. As if your night couldn’t get any more embarrassing.

Your feet carried you down a long corridor, far enough away from the banquet hall that listening ears and prying eyes were unable to reach. Finnick still followed behind you, though you weren’t sure why he bothered. How could he explain what you saw with your own eyes? Plus, the last thing you wanted was for his new romance to think something was going on between you and him. Only in your dreams.

Unsure of your destination, you decided to enter the first room you came across. It turned out to be a lavishly decorated library, walled with large wooden bookshelves which were filled endlessly with novels and historic paraphernalia. Sitting within the bookshelves was a stone fireplace.

The door closed as Finnick entered behind you, the silence so loud that the crackles from the fireplace reverberated through the room. Your hand still throbbed something awful so you looked down, taking in the gruesome sight of your dress. A stranger might have thought you had just murdered someone. If it were televised, it would have been deemed acceptable.

You sniffled, wearing a small bitter smile. “I ruined Snow’s pretty white dress.”

A few moments passed before Finnick replied. “Red always was more your colour,” he said, his tone anything but playful.

Ahead of you was a great wall of windows; in the reflection, you saw him staring back at you with an unfamiliar expression. His brows were pinched upwards, pronouncing the lines in his forehead, and the corners of his mouth drooped in a slight pensive frown. He didn’t look like the Finnick you knew. This Finnick looked pained. Anguished.

You dropped his intense gaze and ambled across the room. By the lit fireplace was a cushioned stool which you sat down on, eyes staring into the flickering flames. If you were lucky, maybe your dress would catch alight and whisk you away from your troubled life. Okay, perhaps the thought was a little morbid, but so was a broken heart. Of all people, why did you have to fall in love with Finnick Odair?

Cautious footsteps followed behind you, coming to a stop beside your feet. Without your acknowledgement, Finnick crouched down, eyeing the bloody mess of your hands with concern. His gaze lifted to yours, which was still on the fire, and he sighed.

“Let me take care of your hand,” he murmured.

Before you could refuse, you realised contracting an infection was worse than giving in to your stubbornness. So, you nodded.

Finnick opened the first-aid kit and began tending to your wound; his touch was so gentle it was like he was piecing together a broken china cup. Using an antiseptic gauze, he attempted to clean the damaged skin, whispering apologies whenever you winced in pain. After carefully applying a dressing, he began wrapping a bandage around your hand.

You stared into the orange flames, wondering how he would explain to that woman why he left her behind. You wondered when their relationship started and why Finnick continued to shamelessly flirt with you in her absence. You wondered if their relationship would be the end of your friendship.

“Are you in love?” you quietly asked.

His hands stilled at your sudden words, then he continued wrapping the bandage. “Not with her.”

He secured the binding with medical tape and climbed to his feet, placing the supplies back into the kit on a small side table.

Brows drawn together in confusion, you turned to look up at him. “But I thought—"

“Things are much more complicated than they seem,” he interrupted. There was a clear vase of white roses on the table. Finnick toyed with the petals, caressing them between his gentle fingertips. “No one understands me better than you do, and there is no one in this world I trust more. But… there are still things I’ve been keeping from you.”

The troubled expression on his face melted into one of vulnerability. This was a new appearance for him. Finnick was known nationwide for his radiant confidence and charm; he never let his guard down. You have had difficult conversations before, such as discussing each other’s hardships and innermost secrets, but none of them seemed to affect him like this.

“Everyone knows about my visits to the Capitol,” he continued. “How I spend nights with different people every time as if it’s all a game for my pleasure. But it’s not true. It’s not my game I’m playing.” He began walking over to the wall of windows, overlooking Snow’s gardens. “There’s a part of it that no one knows about.”

You rose from the stool, beginning to take slow steps towards him. “Which is?”

The fire flickering behind you deepened Finnick’s features. It intensified the shiny bronze of his hair and enhanced the defined contours of his face, making it easy to see the muscles in his jaw clench with apprehension. He stared out the window so intensely that you were sure his usual green eyes were blazing with their own inferno.

Even full of angst, he was painstakingly beautiful.

His chest inflated with a deep breath. “President Snow… sells me to the Capitol.”

Horror washed over you in monstrous waves. Sells? Only one explanation appeared in your head as to what he meant. You remained silent, praying he would prove your assumption wrong.

“After I won my Games, he saw my success as an opportunity to please his citizens. He began offering me to potential buyers—'admirers’ is what he called them—who soon became my regular customers. They would use me however they liked. Some would pounce on me the second I stepped through the door. Others were relatively tamer. Kinder. They would have me take them on dates or watch a movie with them, but one way or another, it all ended the same way at the end of the night.” He sucked in a sharp uneasy breath before continuing. “Then there were the rare few—the ones who treated me like I was nothing more than a ragdoll for their amusement. They did things that were… unspeakable.”

Nausea churned in your stomach as your mind conjured sickening images. It couldn’t be true. You refused to believe that human beings could stoop to such levels of atrocity to make one person endure so much cruelty. Then again, you lived in a world where children were sent into an arena to fight to the death on live television.

Finnick looked like he was holding himself together by a thread. Every word he confessed shattered your heart into a million pieces. How could this have happened to him?

“I’ve tried to refuse but Snow threatened to harm the people I care about—my family, my friends. After I met you, I knew you were added to that list.” He finally turned around to face you, his eyes filled with such anguish, it shook you to your core. “The Capitol owns me, Y/N. Body and soul.”

Despair riddled your entire body. As you stared at him, the image of a teenager appeared in your mind—eyes sea green and hair a fiery bronze. He was just a boy when it started. A child.

“I’m—I’m so sorry,” you managed to whisper. “I didn’t know.”

“I didn’t want you to know.” His eyes dropped to the floor. “I didn’t want you to think less of me.”

“Less of you? Finnick,” you said softly, stopping in front of him. Your eyes beckoned for his; you needed him to look at you, to really take in your next words. “There isn’t a single person alive I think more highly of than you. No one even comes close. Can’t you see? Just having you in my presence makes me feel whole. You make me whole.”

Tears glistened in his eyes as they flickered between your own, absorbing every reassuring word you said into his mind, his bones, his entire being.

“You have brought so much into my life,” you continued. “So much good. And I would never have made it to where I am now without you. So please, don’t ever distance yourself from me because you think I will judge you. I won’t and I never will.”

As the room stilled with silence, a lone tear rolled down Finnick’s cheek. His Adam’s apple bobbed, revealing the sob he was keeping restrained within his throat. And then a smile started to grow on his face, small at first, but then it stretched wider and wider, deepening those dimples that you adored so much.

You knew that your words had touched the deepest parts of him. That you had managed to convince him ‘less’ could never be a word used to describe him. He was more. More kind, more genuine, more caring than almost all of Panem.

“You’re incredible,” he whispered in awe, looking at you as if he were witnessing the birth of the universe. “Sweetheart, you’re incredible. Do have any idea how rare that is for a person to be? I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve someone like you in my life, but I swear I’ll do whatever I can to keep you. And if—” His gaze drifted, seemingly wrestling with a decision in his mind— “if that means I have to share all my secrets with you, then I will.”

“Have you got any more secrets, Finnick?”

He returned his attention back to your face. The indecision from moments ago had disappeared and was replaced with certainty, which was underscored by a sort of tenderness that settled in his features.

“Just one,” he murmured. He paused, observing the universe before him and wondering how on earth he got so lucky to have the privilege of having it staring right back at him. “I’m in love with you.”

Electricity shocked your heart like someone had placed a defibrillator over your chest and hit charge. Love? You? He was?

“What?” you asked, dumbfounded.

“I should’ve told you sooner,” he said, shaking his head. “I should have told you everything. Even if saying this means I’m risking everything between us, I can’t keep it from you any longer. God, sweetheart, I love you so much it fucking hurts. I always will, even if you never feel the same.”

Somehow in the span of twenty minutes, everything you thought you knew came crashing down. First, your heart was broken by the thought of Finnick kissing another, and then it was healed. And then it broke again as he voiced his arrangement with Snow. It could never fully heal again while Snow was alive, not with what he was forcing upon Finnick.

But Finnick pieced together every piece he possibly could with his confession, one heartfelt word of declaration at a time.

The weight of his confession hung in the air. His eyes held a mixture of anxiety and hope for your response. Time seemed to stretch out as you tried to find your voice. How do you declare your love as powerfully as someone who just bared their soul to you?

An emotional laugh bubbled up your throat, your eyes brimming with tears. “You idiot,” was what you said, the words spoken with utmost adoration. “I’ve loved you this whole time.”

Finnick’s eyes widened in amazement and a brilliant smile broke across his face. Before you had a chance to react, he had moved towards you in one swift step, pulling you into his arms and crushing his lips to yours in a powerful, passionate kiss.

Your hands were quick to cling onto him, desperately terrified that if you let go, he would vanish into thin air. Every ounce of yearning and hidden affection from the past year poured into this one single moment, into the movement of your lips against one another, and the feeling of your hands cradling each other’s bodies.

Emotions were running high. You could taste both your own and Finnick’s tears as they streamed down your faces, salty and palpable with affection. The sheer relief of finally being free to express your love was so unimaginable that you felt like you would be crying with happiness your whole life.

Finnick’s hand cupped the side of your jaw and he lowered his head, deepening the kiss as much as he physically could to make up for all the time he wasted. His lips were soft and adoring, savouring the sweet taste of your lips on his. His other arm tightened around your lower back, pulling you even further against him.

You felt like you were melting into his embrace and happily, you would have. It felt so right, so safe to be held by him. The world outside the library no longer existed; there was only Finnick and you. Your hands settled on either side of his jaw, staining his skin red from your blood-soaked bandage. You knew he wouldn’t care—the blood belonged to you.

And that is how you spent most of the night. In the library, in that one spot by the windows, in each other’s arms. At some point, you ended up sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace, both covered in red and feeling blissfully content. Your back was leaning against Finnick’s chest, his arms wrapped around your middle as he occasionally pressed his lips into your hair.

You toyed with the fabric of his sleeves, your head leaning against his collarbone as you watched the flames once more.

“If Snow ever finds out…” you murmured.

“He won’t,” he reassured quietly. “I won’t let him. He’s taken too much from me; he won’t take you too.”

You turned your head to peer up at him, wearing a teasing smile. “Can’t live without me, Odair?”

He grinned, leaning in closer. “Never without you, sweetheart.”

Once again, Finnick’s lips were on yours, conveying every ounce of immense love he felt for you through his kiss. The only time either of you broke apart was to whisper sweet declarations of your devotion and reverence before returning to each other again. This was when you felt most complete.

When you felt whole.

tags: @queenofspades6 @powellssaturn @bellamybellamyblake @heroinhchicblog222

[januaryembrs]

tea!! anything bugsy and spencer

the one with the surfboard | Spencer Reid x Prentiss!Reader

description: there's only one person who could ever get Spencer Reid in the ocean and that's Bugsy

length: 1.6k

warnings: mention of sex, swearing, Penelope and Reid being thirsty for Morgan and bugsy. Pen calls Derek chocolate thunder but this is nothing new! set at beginning of season six.

part of the trouble almost all my life universe

Spencer settled his feet into the warm sand, trying his hardest to make sure the grain didn’t stick to the thick layer of suncream he’d applied not even five minute earlier, his sunglasses hanging on his nose as he watched Morgan and Bugsy hit a ball to one another over an invisible volleyball net. 

“You not going to take a swim, pretty boy?” Emily asked, basking on her back in a red bikini, soaking up the sun they rarely got so clearly stuck in their office. His face scrunched up, shaking his head until he remembered Emily had her eyes closed, and it only took one look at where JJ was laying incredibly still to know she’d already dozed off on the sun lounger. 

“One litre of ocean water has about one billion microbes of bacteria and around ten billion viruses, so,” He shuddered, his lithe fingers gripping the arms of the chair as he tried not to think about every single one of them entering his mouth if he were to even get close enough it could spray on his face, “No thankyou,” 

“Not even if Bugsy asked you?” Penelope pointed out, a sex on the beach she’d ordered with a giggle and a ‘if Morgan gets lucky.’

His lips twitched, feeling his neck grow hot in a way he told himself was just the sun, and he glanced at the technical analyst with something fleeting, “She did ask me, I told her the exact same thing I’m telling you guys,”

“And?” Emily asked, sensing that hadn’t been the end of the conversation because her sister knew exactly how to get her way when it came to men, Spencer specifically. 

Rubbing under his nose with his knuckle, Spencer downcast his eyes to the beer Bug had handed him, sand sticking to the green, frosted glass as the liquid bubbled freshly inside the bottle, “She said I owed her an hour of fun,”

Penelope’s face lit up at the innuendo of it, nudging him lightly with her shoulder, “Hell yeah, you’re such a stud, Reid. An hour?” 

Emily winced in grotesque, “That’s my sister you’re talking about there, Pen. A sister is very much present here,” 

The blonde shrugged, sipping through her pineapple decorated straw, “Not my fault you have a hot sister, Prentiss,” 

“Can we stop talking about this? Please?” Spencer floundered, his fingers wrapping over the edge of the seat, his jaw tensing as the words hot, hot, hot, smeared all over his brain like a stamp. And everything he’d tried to deny for months bit at his neck so much so he was quickly fiddling with his shirt collar. 

“Agreed,” Emily seconded, taking a long drink of her mojito, and Penelope saw it as a chance to lean in close to him, a smirk on her clementine scented lips.

“Don’t you think watching the two of them play together is like something out of Baywatch,” She murmured, her eyes locking on the two agents that seemed to be on their longest streak yet judging by all the laughing and shouting going on in between hits. 

Spencer had never tuned into Baywatch, nor did he have any intention of doing so. But he did have to admit that watching Bugsy jump around in the ocean, her hair clasped back in a claw clip away from her face, her skin practically glowing from the vitamin D both on her face and on her obscenely beautiful body that was free to see in those bikini shorts and mini top, was more captivating than any tv show he could imagine.

He swallowed, shaking his head, “I think you spend too much time with Derek,”

Penelope held her chest in mock offence, her glass empty in her hand as she looked at him with teasing eyes, “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that, Reid. There’s no such thing as too much chocolate thunder time.” 

Spencer smirked, chuckling to himself and he barely even noticed the two people that were the hot topic of conversation had left the sea until a plastic, bouncy ball went hurtling at Emily’s forehead and rebounded clear off her hairline. 

“FUCK,” The woman cursed, opening her eyes where a few rogue droplets of sea water dribbled down her cheek, her peace and serenity completely wiped away where her little sister stood with a hidden smirk, Derek biting his knuckle to hide his laugh, “You fucker, what was that for?”

“Just making sure you hadn’t cooked alive, you looked very still,” Bugsy held her hands up in innocence, even though Emily stood with a vengeance, rolling her eyes at the cheeky grin she got back. 

Emily muttered something about her being a childish shrew, before she huffed, shoving past her sister and heading towards the beachfront bar, Derek and Penelope in tow. Which left the two of them, and a sleeping JJ, on their tiny corner of the beach. 

“You sure you don’t want to come in?” Bugsy asked, trails of salt water sliding off her hair and down her stomach, the sight of them making Spencer’s mouth dryer than the sand beneath them, “I saw a jellyfish, or at least I think it was, it may have been a condom,” Spencer gagged inside his mouth with an incredulous look on his face, and she chuckled, dropping the ball to his feet, “Relax, I’m kidding. I’m going back in if you want to join, promise I won’t splash you or nothing,” 

“I’m good, you go have fun with your new pal; the condom,” He said with a grossed out pull of his lips, though he smiled when she did and she grabbed the surfboard stuck in the ground beside him, trotting off back towards the ocean, “Remember to reapply soon!” He called, and she flicked a look over her shoulder.

“You're as bad as Emily,” She yelled back, taking off towards the waves with a chuckle, the sea breeze blowing tiny shrapnels of sand against her calves.

Spencer shamefully felt his eyes drop to her butt, and as fast as he did, he looked away, because that was supposed to be his best friend. She’d certainly never made it seem like they were going to be anything else. Perverts watched pretty girls running, perverts watched how their skin lit up with the rays of lights bouncing off the water and their hips swung with every step, and he wasn’t a pervert. 

He was just… human. And who could ever resist her. 

He watched the sea spraying out beneath her feet as she ran right in, and she waded out deep enough that he lost sight of her stomach, the board skirting the surface of the water for a moment. 

She was possibly the coolest person he’d ever met, and she was his best friend. 

He watched her hop up onto her stomach, keeping an eye on the horizon for a big enough wave rolling in. Deciding on an incoming ripple gradually gaining traction, she paddled out towards it, her arms strong and focused from what he could see where he was sat, nursing his bottle of beer. 

“Baby Prentiss got moves,” Morgan whistled as they returned back with drinks cold enough Spencer saw the condensation gathering on the glass already, though that was the only time he actually tore his eyes away from her as she got further away from the safety of land, the black band attaching her ankle to the board the only thing he could really see of her. 

“She talked some bar boy into teaching her the Summer she spent in Mexico with my mom,” Emily shook her head as they watched her jump up into a steady stand, the rip gathering under her surfboard and soon she was floating over the water, the concentration evident on her face as she held her arms out to balance. 

She went a few more times, the group settling into the quiet they had whenever she was busy, because she was not exactly known for her calm nature, yet Spencer’s eyes were the only ones glued to her figure the entire time, ever the worrier when it came to her daredevil side. 

And it was like he was watching it in slow motion; on her fifth turn riding a particularly quick rip her balance got thrown off. Nothing serious, it was only a few ten yards out offshore, and she was a strong swimmer, he’d seen it. She quickly lowered herself back into a straddled sit, only for the wave to gain traction before it fizzled out, crashing into the side of her board right as she was about to take a breath, and he watched her flip sidewards into the water, the tide bringing her close enough he knew she’d be able to stand.

But she didn’t come up for a few moments, and it was enough that Spencer was out of his seat, taking off jogging towards the ocean, every statistic that had been whizzing through that big brain of his about how filthy the water was suddenly evaporating as he watched her throw a hand up to the surface, her board skirting above her being the only pointer for him where to go. 

By the time he made it over to her, he was knee deep before he thought of the consequences, the cold hitting him like a freight train, and she was already dragging herself towards land on her hands and knees, her hair stuck to her face, her claw clip ripped out by the current.

“Are you okay?” He asked, but she didn’t respond, only to cough up sea water with a screwed up expression that told him just how horrible it tasted. 

“I need a beer,” She wheezed, as he lifted his hands under her arms, tugging her to her feet, his entire torso getting drenched as she clung onto him for safety, still spluttering ocean out of her lungs. 

And he shook his head with a smile, brushing her hair back enough for her to see, her eyes sore and red with angry blood vessels where he imagined it stung to get the salty water in them, and all but dragged her back up the rest of the beach where Derek and Emily were laughing at her fail so hard they’d woken JJ up. 

“Yasmine Bleeth never ate seawater, Bug, what happened?” Morgan jeered, earning him a middle finger to the face as Penelope offered her a nice big gulp of a margarita to clear her taste buds. 

And for the first time all day, Spencer wasn’t even thinking about how much bacteria was all over his skin if it meant she was alright.

[dinossaurz]

Shit, not the pink ribbon skirt again.

Pairing: Emo!Mingi, F, Girly!reader, Emo!Yunho

Summary: She couldn't be different from both her best friends. She's all cute, popular and girlie. And they're... yeah, emo. Weirdos. They like her, she knows it. But they don't know it... yet.

WC: 2k

Genre: Fluff; maybe a little suggestive

Requested by: @zchnlswrld

Beta/proofread credit: @peachesyeo

A/N: It's just a little different from what you asked, but I can write it again if you doesn't like that.

I just hated so much what I've made here fkskfjskdj sorry

Nets: @newworldnet

Being popular isn't a hard thing.

Well, it shouldn't be, at least.

You've been lying in a chair, in the library, "hiding" yourself from some football players. With your bestfriends by your side, as always.

Mingi and Yunho never leaves your side, more specifically when you're up to be alone. They hate the mere thought of you being alone.

Or, better saying, they hate the mere thought of you being all alone in your fucking pink short skirts you love so much.

The skirt in question is short but not too much, and it has a huge pink ribbon on it's top.

You knew they also loves that skirt, to be really honest.

"So, Y/N, why you're here again?" Mingi whispered in a heavy tone.

"I'm hiding, of course." You says, in a low tone, trying to avoid the goosebumps Mingi's voice gave you.

"But you're friends with them, aren't you?" Yunho, who know exactly who you're hiding from, says with a frown.

"Ah… nope. I'm friend with you and Mingi. You know that, Yuyu." You missed the way he smiled at the nickname you gave him.

But you didn't need to see something knowing that something was off with both your bestfriends. I mean, you know them since always. You both grew togheter, being glued since childhood. You knew everything about each other. Well, they think you don't know one little thing.

The thing is… Yunho has a huge crush on you, and at the same time Mingi also has a huge crush on you. They don't know each other crushes, and they swear you don't know too. Little did they know you know everything since day one, and that's why you're always a tease to them.

You know exactly how to act around them, rushing your hands to theirs when you're side by side to them, "accidentally" passing your feet to their legs . And, of course, your little pink ribbon skirt with nothing less than your underwear under.

And that's exactly why you're here, by the library, acting like you're trying to hide. Your friends of the team knows you're trying up something to both your boys. Actually, they helped you with some advices.

"So, what are you up to today?" you asked, making them turn tables to your side.

Mingi arched his eyebrows, laying himself in the table, turning a little to look at your eyes. Again, you felt a goosebump up your spine.

"You're never curious about us, Y/N."

You know he was lying right now, but you didn't cared about that too much, then you just arched your eyebrow, mirroring Mingi.

"I'm going to play games all afternoon and maybe night." Yunho answered, his eyes a soft sight in your direction, and you just smiled in your plans working that easy.

"So, you're free at night?" you smiled brightly.

"Always free, actually." he answered, a little confused. He wanted to say he was always free to you, but he hold his own lips to open and say some shit.

"Yeah, me too." Mingi said, his voice a little sleepy. This big boy is always sleepy, to be honest, and that's what you think is the most cute thing about him.

The night after that, you were at the cinema near your complex. You lived near Yunho, so once he said he was leaving his house, you did the same.

You were nervous about your plains, because you were afraid to lose them both if you were wrong, even if their acts were too obvious sometimes.

When you saw Yunho arriving, you just jumped out off your thoughts, starting to sweat under your pretty pink top crop, matching your pink ribbon skirt.

Not far from where you and Yunho were, Mingi was also arriving. He saw you there, just waiting just as the cute brat you used to be around them.

And… shit, not the pink ribbon skirt again. He used to think you knew how hard you make him just by wearing this fucking piece of fabric.

He wished he could touch that fabric. It looked so soft by the touch, and he wished he could also feel your soft thigh between his hands and…

"Mingi!" he was cut off when he listened both your voice and Yunho's.

Mingi oppened a small and nervous smile, trying to wash off his dirty thoughts. He just passed his fingers through his hair (black just like the night).

"How long you're here?" Mingi asked, looking from Yunho to Y/N.

"I just arrived." Yunho said, smiling to them. "But I think Y/N's here for a little long."

"Nah, I arrived just a little before you." you smiled, playing with your hair that pulled off your braided hair.

All your nervousness just increased when the seconds passed by, and you considered turn back with your plan. But it was too late when your mouth oppened alone just to speak the things you rehearsed in your mirror in the past few days.

"Can… can we talk a bit. Y'know, before the movie start." you shyly smile, looking to your feets covered by a pair of blue all stars, a gift from Yunho. You just realised both of them where using their matching black converses with you. Then your smile switched from shy to a open one.

"I… Sure." Yunho said quietly, a little afraid that you would say you're dating someone.

He could barely only thought about you dating someone isn't him.

The tree of you were sitting by a table in a near cafe

You were holding a hot and sleeveless cup of coffee. You knew it would hurt your hand, but your mind was still a misty.

"I-I… I know something is happening. To… To the both of you." you said, a little faster and in a low tone. Your face was turned down, and you looked up when you listened them chocking with their drinks.

"Uh… I didn't understand… w-what you're talking about?" Yunho said, whiping his mouth, his hand shivering a little.

You turned your head to the opposite side again, avoiding their eyes.

"You're both acting weird when around me. And don't think i missed your heart eyes in my direction, Song Mingi." you said, not even taking a pause to breath. Your face turning pink like the colors of your clothing.

"You saw?" Mingi whispered, his face turning to a bright red.

You nodded, turning now to look at Yunho.

"And I know you've been jealous of my other friends." Yunho, that was looking down, probably praying that you never saw nothing weird in him.

"I always wondered if…" you started, but paused to take a sip in your coffee, to calm yourself with the hot liquid. "If you both also liked me."

You were looking to your fingers, a little pink because of the heat from the coffee cup.

"Y-you said... Also?" you could listen to Yunho's voice that he was a bit (maybe too much) nervous with what he just listened coming from the mouth of the girl he loves the most.

But... what confused Yunho the most was, how Y/N knew Mingi liked her before he even talked that to Yunho.

He washed the thought when he saw Mingi freezed looking to the girl.

"Min, are you..." Yunho started, but was cut by Mingi low voice.

"It means you really were teasing me... teasing us..." he corrected himself "with that... that...

"Skirt?" both the friends could see she was holding a grin when she looked down.

Oh, boy, both of them were so fucked and so melted and confused among her thin fingers.

"Since when you knew?" Mingi asked.

After she talked to them, the trio walked to the cinema, head in the clouds, they never really watched the movie, totally involved in talk to the girl sitting among the two towers.

"Maybe since the beginning?" you asked, not really searching for answers. Mingi scoffed in disbelief.

"I thought I was hiding my feelings very well, since no one said anything."

"Well... technically, I discovered Yunho's crush firstly." Yunho looked at you, his ears turning a little pink, just like your skirt, you thought. "You know, he always looked at me with those puppy eyes, and then he was looking at me like an all grown golden retriever."

You could feel Mingi holding his laugh by your side, you just joined him.

"Ya, you two... tsc." Yunho whispered holding a small smile.

"Could you please, stay silent?" A fourth voice appeared, and the three of you widen your eyes.

"Oh, sorry." You poked Yunho and Mingi's side, nodding them to get out of that place.

And that you did, laughing when finally out of room.

"So... what we going to do now? You know... about... all that..." Yunho was moving his hands so fast he almost slapped you.

You just hold his hands, squeezing both in your tiny hands.

"Calm down first, Yuyu." You assured, smiling a bit.

While you were looking into Yunho's soul, Mingi touched your shoulder, making you look at him, who was smiling.

That smile so long makes your heart flutter in your chest, then you just smiled back at him.

If someone from out your trio saw you with both of them, would be scandalized. The two boys were so tall, and that emo aura that followed them would make anyone run for their lives, but not you.

You loved them so much to just think about running away from them.

Then you just took Mingi's hand on yours, while still hold one of Yunho's. You looked at both of their eyes and smiled, letting a small smile in the corner of their lips, one each.

And then you just smiled again, seeing their confused faces.

[j4ystar]

90s LOVE — park jay

➞ bf!jay x f!reader

➞ hockey!au, inspired by the 90s love by nct u mv !!!

➞ synopsis : jay plays against your ex's hockey team

➞ fluff????

➞ word count : 1.6k

➞ tw : jay kicking ass semi-violent fight moment, swearing, just an itty bitty mention of blood

ᓚᘏᗢ aj — LOLLL took me so long to acc publish anything on here. if she sucks lets just pretend she doesn’t. smth short for tonight bc this is all i’ve been thinking of recently. enforcer refers to a player that deters and respond to violent play by the opposing team by starting fights w them. ALSO HAHAH I KNOW NOTHING ABOUT HOCKEY.

jay’s vision blurs momentarily as he gets shoved into the side panels of the rink. he regains his balance quickly though, and he brushes off the aching pain in his shoulders. he looks up hoping to get a glimpse of the jersey number that had just body checked him. he stomps on the ice, breezing past his teammates and the opposing team alike. he scans the ice for the puck and finds an open spot, and he watches his team fall back into a defensive position when they fail to shoot the puck into the opposing team's net.

that stupid number 10 was getting on jay’s nerve. he wore his jersey proudly as he strutted the ice with such toxicity. he was a bad player. he had been playing dirty, and the refs weren’t calling any of it. they turned a blind eye to it. he was known as one of the enforcers for the opposing team. now, jay was in no way the enforcer of his team; that was left for his other teammates. jay was the center of his team. jay was warned about number 10. not by his teammates nor his coach, but by his girlfriend.

"jay whatever he says or does during the game. just ignore him."

jay wanted to ignore him so bad. jay could tolerate the rough play on the ice; the shoving was all part of the game, and that game, jay could play. but the comments were much worse to tolerate. not when they included you. number 10 was your ex, jang jiwook. the stories you had a hard time opening up to jay about made jay hate his guts, despite not knowing the guy at all. upon hearing about the things he had done to you, jay just had to know what he looked like to at least keep an eye out for you when in public. throughout the entirety of the first half of the game, jiwook had been throwing comments left and right to jay about you, his beloved girlfriend. the misogynistic name-calling was enough to get steam blowing out of jay’s ears as if he were an animated character. while jay was good at keeping his temper in check, he couldn’t keep ignoring what jiwook was saying about you. jay wanted to listen to you so bad. he didn’t want to upset you first and foremost.

jiwook skates past jay again, briskly brushing past his shoulder. jay manages to skate into an open spot where he steals the puck away from the current holder and is able to turn the game around from there. upon rounding to the blue line nearest to the opposing team's net. jay looks to his right, finding jiwook coming in with such speed that he is sure he is about to come in and bulldoze jay. and so he passes the puck to another teammate, hoping they will be able to finish the play and score for their team. his teammate is able to make the score, which leads to a chorus of cheers from their school crowd.

jiwook skates up past jay with a smirk playing on his lips. jay’s irritation begins to grow.

"i heard you were with yn? have fun with my leftovers." and with that, he skates away. jay can hear him chuckling under his breath. jay breathes out for a moment. the cold arena makes his hot breath come out as a white fog. eyes averted to the clock and then back to the game. jay’s eyes watch carefully as his teammates skate with such vigour; he can hear the calls from left and right, yet as sunghoon calls out for jay to pass to, before he can even receive the puck in the bill of his stick, a body comes smashing into his side, sending jay toppling over.

the audience falls into a frenzy, some cheering, some complaining. jay’s teammates turn their heads in concern for his condition. jay feels jiwook’s heavy weight lift off him, and jiwooks teammates are hitting their sticks against the boards of the rink. despite the heavy hit to his head, jay can still see straight, and all he wants to go for is the big blue jersey with the numbers 10 stamped in white letters plastered on the back.

sunghoon approaches jay; he asks him if he’s okay. but his words just sounded slurred to jay, who begins catching up to jiwook. sunghoon looks towards the student section of the audience in search of you. fully knowing what’s about to happen next.

jay can hear the shouts of his teammates in the players box, and he is sure his coach is mixed in there yelling about not following the play. but he simply shakes his white gloves off and rips his helmet off his head, proceeding to toss it to the side. his right arm comes to tap jiwooks shoulder, who spins around on his skates only to be met with jay’s cold fist to his face. the crowd's roars intensify after the first hit.

the first hit is enough to get the helmet twisted partially off jiwook’s head. but the second left hook knocks the helmet clean off. leaving a defenceless jiwook to jay’s assault. jiwooks arms come to either side of jay’s bulky arms, and he quickly rips his gloves off in an attempt to retaliate for the violence. jay is full of rage; he is already burning up under all the equipment layered on his body.

"don’t fucking talk about yn like that," jay tells him. hair disheveled. jiwook struggles against jay who throws the last punch before the refs tear the two boys apart. jay comes back to his senses upon being scolded by the referee as he gets ushered to the penalty box. jiwook is skating with crimson blood slowly dripping from his nose, it drips onto his chin and onto the neck cut of his jersey.

jay refuses to look at jiwook from the penalty box, but when he cranes his neck to look at the spot where you reside among the other watchers in the arena, he fails to find you. but he knows you are probably upset at him for acting out. despite your warnings for jay, he never promised you that he wouldn’t hurt jang jiwook.

after five minutes in the box, he returns to the players box, where his teammates cheer him on and praise him for being able to square up to an enforcer despite being a center. fighting wasn’t jay’s job, at least not on the ice. but fighting for you? it was his job, and he takes his job very seriously. his teammates send him to the locker room, and jay wholeheartedly expects his coach to be in the locker room, where he would get scolded and lectured for not waiting on an enforcer on his team to take the damage for him. that wasn’t what entirely plagued his mind though.

upon reaching the changing rooms, he pushes them open and expects to face his rugged and scary coach. but as he prepares to feel his coach’s wrath rain down on him, he finds you instead. your purse dangling by your side while you stand with your arms crossed. you wear jay’s jersey with pride, regardless of his new reputation on the ice and the several stares people gave you when you began to make your way to the change rooms to talk to jay.

"look, i’m sorry—"

"you fucked him up good, you know." you told him, and jay lets out a breath of relief. you weren’t that mad. at least if you were, it wasn’t really showing. "he was saying shit about you. what did you expect me to do?" jay asks you, crossing his arms over his chest to mimic you.

"didn’t i tell you to ignore him?"

"how ‘bout you try ignoring my ex when she calls me her leftovers?" jay argues, huffing out in annoyance. jay sits on one of the benches, exhausted and with his head still spinning. you stop your movements. "he called me his leftovers?" your expression morphs to that of amusement. "well now i’m glad that you kicked his ass." you say. maneuvering past the other benches and duffle bags scattered over the floor. you take jay’s head into your arms and stand between his legs. he lays his head on your chest automatically. jay’s arms come around your torso, hugging you closer to him. a hand rests on one of his shoulders while the other tangles in jay’s hair.

"and to be clear, if your ex said anything bad about you, i would fight her too." you laugh softly. you can hear jay’s muffled chuckles. "i think i've got to go before your coach actually comes and scolds you." you tell him softly. he lets out a whine, his arms circling around you tighter, refusing to let you go.

"you still have a game to play, jay." you tell him sweetly, hands coming to his shoulders. he parts from you. looking up at you with such a yearning gaze. his eyes are soft. contrasting the way his eyes sharpened when he looked at jiwook with such fervour during the game. you bend down to press a kiss onto the corner of jay’s lip. when you pull away, jay follows your lips. his eyes fluttered closed and not realizing what he was doing. a small smirk appears on his lips as he looks away from you and refocuses his gaze onto a different corner of the room out of a sudden burst of timidness. jay would do anything for you, even if that meant getting benched for the rest of the season because your loser dickhead ex boyfriend is salty you found a better man.

"park, you’re supposed to be attacking the net, not the opposing players." you and jay jump at the voice of jay’s coach booming through the locker room.

THE END WAHOOOOOOO

[roosterforme]

Old Habits Die Hard Part 6 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: The slow burn threatens so make Sugar melt, and Bradley can't remember ever feeling this way before.

Warnings: Angst, swears, smut, fluff

Length: 4800 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader (fuckboy college student Bradley)

Check out my masterlist

"Oh my God," you sighed when you woke up late on Saturday morning. As soon as you opened your eyes, you couldn't stop smiling. Being walked home by Bradley was like a dream you didn't want to wake up from. 

His lips had been all over yours, hips pressing you back against the wall outside your apartment door. When you asked him if he wanted to come inside, he groaned, "Of course I want to, Sugar. But can we just... not? Not tonight?" 

You nodded in response, and he looked so relieved, you didn't think he meant for you to feel bad about what he said. You thought maybe it was more about him than you. 

As you ran your fingertips along his scars, Bradley melted into your hand. "Tell me you'll come back over to the house tomorrow. We can hang out again."

You smiled at him. "Yeah, I'll come back tomorrow."

He nodded slightly, still leaning into your palm. "Text me. I'll walk over and get you. Shouldn't be walking by yourself."

And you were still thinking about what he said the next morning. He wasn't your boyfriend. He would probably never be your boyfriend. So maybe you shouldn't be encouraging him to walk you to and from his frat house all the time, but you had already promised him he could do it again. 

"You're an idiot," you told yourself as you climbed out of bed, still wearing his sweatshirt. "He's not a good idea. You should know better." But you were still smiling. 

------------------------------------

Bradley was antsy as soon as he woke up. He had too much energy. You'd gotten yourself under his skin somehow, and he felt like he needed to do something about it. He started pacing around his room. 

He'd been threatening to kiss you stupid, but you were the one who had managed to turn him into a brainless moron with your lips and your face and your body. 

"Dude," he groaned out loud. You had invited him in last night. He knew Janessa was staying with Tyson, so it would have been just the two of you at your apartment. It was an invitation for full steam ahead to getting laid, but he had said no. As if he had a shred of dignity left to protect. Like there was a thread of virtue left inside him. 

Why was it so important to him that you didn't think he was a complete fuckboy? He never cared what any of the other girls thought. He never stopped them from writing on his door. He had even once fucked a girl after she told him she just wanted to be able to get her name up there, like riding his dick one time was some sort of prize you could win. 

Just thinking about it made him uncomfortable now. He couldn't even remember that girl's name or what she looked like. But he remembered that she brought her own marker. 

He collapsed back onto his bed. He had to swallow around the lump in his throat. That was probably how Phoebe had become his safety net. She was there the night his face got busted up. She knew what happened and could have probably guessed why he got into a fight with Chase. She never gave him a hard time about any of it. And she never got mad when he went into a spiral where he started sleeping around more than usual.

And yet, Phoebe got away with not getting mad about the things he did, because she wasn't his girlfriend. Nobody cared about him enough to be that. 

Maybe things had started to improve when he started drinking less. The past six months had been better for him, in a lot of ways. He had been taking extra classes to get his GPA up as high as possible. He had actually been enjoying school. But he kept on going along with the easiest girls on campus, the ones who he knew wouldn't give his scars a second glance. The kinds of girls he'd always chosen. 

His mom would be disgusted, and he knew it. His dad probably never did this shit. He buried his face in his hands. You were supposed to text him later to let him know when to walk to your place and get you. He needed to tell you he couldn't see you anymore. He needed to stop being around you, starting today. Maybe he could get better, be better, but he'd have to try it with someone else. Because there was no way he could let himself ruin you, drag your reputation down to his level. Jeff had been right. You were too fucking good. 

And then he thought about how sweetly you talked to him last night. How well you had kissed him, and how he had pressed you down underneath his body. You trusted him. Trusted him with more than just his ability to get you off. 

Then he thought about you in his lap in the library study room. He wouldn't be able to tell you no if you said you wanted him. He was so weak. He had never let himself be interested in any other girl like this before. 

--------------------------------------

You had finished all of your schoolwork, and it was only mid afternoon. You couldn't text Bradley yet; that would have been as mortifying as when you came apart in his lap. So you tried to take a nap, then you watched a movie. You wanted to text him while you were eating dinner, but then you frowned, because he had been the one initiating texts with you ever since you wrote your number on his pristine door. 

"What the hell?" you whispered. What could his problem be? What if he hooked up with someone else last night after he walked you home? You pushed your plate of food to the side, suddenly no longer hungry. 

You glared at your phone, not wanting to be the one to make the first move. And just then it lit up with a text from him, and you quickly snatched it up into your hands. 

Sugar, I miss you more than I should be allowed to. Tell me to stop. 

Your heart was pounding now. Stop? You didn't want him to stop. So maybe he hadn't been with anyone else last night. Maybe he'd just been thinking about you. 

You wrote back, You're allowed to miss me all you want, Beer Boy. Or you can walk over and get me. Then you wouldn't have to miss me at all. 

You waited for a response but got nothing. You got changed and finished putting on some makeup, and he still hadn't written back. Finally, when you were about to see where Janessa was, he replied.

I'm on my way. 

You bit your lip and almost screamed. You put your dishes in the sink and thought about taking a shot of the cheap tequila you and Janessa bought before you turned twenty one. You needed a distraction. But then there was a knock at your door, and you rushed to open it. 

Chocolate brown eyes, messy hair tucked under a backwards cap. Smirk that made you feel silly. 

"Sugar," he whispered, leaning against the door frame with both hands and examining your face. "Tell me I'm not allowed to miss you."

Fuck that. You reached for the front of his shirt, pulling him toward you, and he released the door frame. "What if I want you to?" you asked him softly. 

He groaned as he pulled you against him and kissed you. 

-------------------------------

He wanted you. He tried not to. He spent the entire day telling himself no. If you had told him no, he would have been gone immediately. But you were dressed all cute again, and your body was fitted perfectly against his. And you kept giving him a green light. 

"Bradley," you gasped when he ran his lips along your ear. "Feel like hanging out here instead of going to the party?" you asked softly. 

His cock throbbed for you. He hadn't let himself masturbate all day, and it had been a week since he got laid. You could have him right now if you wanted him. Right here next to your front door. But he was trying so hard to do what he should. Part of him still believed he came here to tell you he couldn't be around you anymore. The other part knew he was full of shit; he came here because he couldn't stay away. He was a fucking mess. 

"I signed us up for beer pong," he told you, his voice raspy as you ran your hand along his arm. 

You giggled, and he pulled you closer. "I suck at beer pong."

"I don't mind," he promised, taking your hand and leading you out. He listened to you talk as you walked. You asked him questions and wanted to hear what he thought about things, just like you had last night when he took you home. When you stopped at the crosswalk and kissed his scars, it felt nice. 

Tyson and Dev waved you both over to the game as soon as you got there. "You guys are up," Tyson said, handing you the ball. "Ladies first."

Bradley watched you get ready to start the game, smiling softly at him over your shoulder. And you weren't just bad at beer pong, you were terrible. But he didn't mind when you missed three shots in a row, because your little crop top was riding up higher every time you attempted a throw. 

When Bradley made his shot again, you groaned and glared at him. "Told you I sucked."

"How are you possibly this bad?" Bradley asked you, taking you by the hips from behind and moving you a foot further away from the edge of the table. "You're good at math! It's like a physics problem." He let his hands linger on your body for a beat as Tyson took his turn. 

You turned to look at him. "Huh. I never thought about it that way!" you said, and Bradley grinned, because he had made your eyes light up. 

"See, everyone underestimates how smart I actually am," he told you as he squared your hips and let his hands ghost up the soft skin along your sides, making you shiver. "Just get used to the way the ball feels when it leaves your hand, and let it arc down into the cups." Bradley removed his hands once you were in position, and when you took your shot, you managed to get the ball into a cup. 

"It's math, Beer Boy!" you told him with a smile. He could still see the fading hickey on your neck whenever you tossed your hair back from your shoulders. When he leaned in and placed his lips there, you moaned softly, and he felt weak. What the fuck was going on? If you were any other girl, he could have had you begging for him, fucked you in his room, and come back down to the party with a clear head. 

"Are you guys going to stop feeling each other up and play?" Tyson called from the other end of the table with a grin. 

"Sorry, man," Bradley replied, picking up the ping pong ball and tossing it effortlessly into a cup. "Math," he confirmed with a nod. 

The match was close, but Dev managed to edge the two of you out on the last cup. "I've never been that good before!" you told Bradley as he led you away from the table as the next opponents were called over. 

"You know the secret. Now you'll be unbeatable. Come on, let's get some of the good beers," he said with a smirk, dropping his hat onto your head. He had no idea where Jeff was, and he wanted to keep it that way. The kitchen was empty, and as soon as he had you in there away from the horribly loud music, you had your arms around him.

He took two beers out of the fridge and opened them before picking you up and setting you on the counter. "Warn a girl next time!" you screeched as he jumped up next to you.

"Sorry," he said with a laugh. Bradley couldn't get over you. "You look adorable in my hat."

He watched your cheeks flush pink. "I slept in your sweatshirt last night," you admitted with a smile, but you looked away from him. 

Fuck. "Lucky shirt," he muttered, and you turned to look at him, pressing your lips together. 

"What's wrong today? You seem... a little hesitant. And you didn't text me as much," you said softly, and Bradley's heart was in his throat. "Not that you need to text me or anything like that, of course," you said, fiddling with your beer before taking a big sip. "I was just, you know.... I like you."

"Sugar." Bradley took the beer from your hand and set it aside. You looked at him tentatively as he leaned toward you and brushed his lips softly against yours. Nobody had ever said that to him before. He'd never be able to stop now. "I like you, too."

You made a soft sound as he wrapped his hand gently around your neck and stroked his thumb along your jaw. 

"I'm sure you say that to every girl," you whispered, and his lips touched yours briefly again. 

"No, I never say that to any girls. That's the problem."

You laughed softly as his fingers drifted down your back and he gently kissed your neck. "That doesn't sound like a problem to me, Beer Boy."

"Oh, it is. It's a big problem."

"Then how do we solve it?" you asked as he pushed you back until you were lying along the kitchen counter, his hat rolling to the floor. 

Bradley watched you reach out to him, and he let you pull him on top of you. "You're smarter than me, Sugar. Might have to rely on you to figure it out. I can only think of ways to make it worse," he whispered, letting his fingers meet the soft skin between your jeans and your shirt.

You reached up and ran your hands through his hair. "Then make it worse," you told him. "Kiss me until I sound so stupid. Touch me until I sound so fucking dumb." 

"Jesus," he muttered as his lips crashed against yours, humming softly. You nibbled and licked until he dipped his tongue into your mouth to meet yours. Your fingers were a little rough against his scalp as he pulled your bottom lip between his teeth, and both of his hands were all the way up your shirt. 

All the little gasps and moans you made were making him dizzy. You were so sweet, but Bradley already knew you were a little dirty, too. "You're the best combination of everything," he told you, stroking your tits through your bra. 

"Oh, God," you moaned into his mouth when he kissed you again. You bucked your hips up against him, and he anchored your body against the counter as his fingertips found your nipple. He teased you there as his tongue found yours, and you whined his name so loudly he was practically seeing stars. 

When the door opened and the sounds of the party filtered into the kitchen, Bradley froze.

"Come on, guys! That's where I make my sandwiches!" Tyson yelled. "What the fuck!"

Instead of looking embarrassed this time, you just laughed as Bradley pulled his hands back out of your shirt and sat up.

"Uh... sorry," Bradley said vaguely in Tyson's direction. "Won't happen again."

"I doubt that," Tyson said, glaring at both of you as Bradley helped you down from the counter and picked up his hat.

Bradley laughed when you waved over your shoulder and said, "Bye, Ty!" as Bradley pulled you out of the room. 

"He has no right to complain, really. I'm the only one who cleans this fucking house," Bradley muttered. When he tried to lead you back into the living room, you tugged on his hands and he stopped. When he raised an eyebrow in your direction, you nodded toward the stairs.

"Let's go up," you said softly. "Your room is quiet. And I want to be alone with you."

Bradley let you lead him there.

--------------------------------------

Bradley let you take control. You paused outside of his door, which still only had the note he had written to you and your phone number on it. "Just the way I like it," you told him before opening it and going inside. The soft glow of the Navy desk lamp warmed the room just like the previous times you had been in here. 

Bradley tossed his hat on his desk and ran his fingers along the ends of your hair. "Sugar." His voice was so soft, and his grin was just barely touching his lips. "I shouldn't have you. You're too sweet for me."

You shook your head slightly. "No, I'm not."

"Too sweet for anybody," he told you as his hands found the bare skin of your waist again, and you had to squeeze your thighs together. "I fucking want you so bad though. I don't know what to do."

You traced the long scar along his neck with your fingertips, and his eyes fluttered closed. "I want you too, Bradley." Gently, you kissed the spot where your fingers had been, and he pulled you against him. "I like you. All of you. You call me Sugar, but you're sweet to me."

He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing against your lips. "I'm different now," he whispered, and while you weren't sure exactly what he meant by that, you nodded your head. He was different than you thought he would be. 

Bradley dipped his head down and kissed you, his lips smiling against yours as he worked his hands higher on your waist. He pulled away a little bit and watched your face as he stroked along your curves with his thumbs. "That tickles a little bit," you told him, biting your lip to contain your giggles. But his hands inched a little higher.

"Want me to stop?" he asked, his thumbs finding your bra again just like in the kitchen. You'd worn your nicest underwear and a tight crop top that really had no place even being in your closet. He smiled, waiting for you to answer.

"Don't you dare," you told him, whining as his palms met your breasts, gently squeezing and kneading you through the lace fabric. You expected him to rip your shirt off, but he was taking his time. Somehow you knew this was not exactly the same guy who'd had the names all over his door. This guy was a better version. It felt like he was being better for you.

When your head tipped back, his lips found your neck, sucking and teasing you. Even though you tried to stop, you found yourself grinding your hips against him. He was already starting to get hard, and you knew you were already wet. One of his hands slid down to your butt, slowing your movement. 

"Don't rush this. I want to spend the whole night making my smart girl stupid," he told you, and your body shook. 

"Fuck," you said, nodding and agreeing with him as both of his hands went to the front of your jeans. He smirked as you steadied yourself with his shoulders.

"One word response. Starting to sound dumb already, baby," he said, teasing your lips with his as he dipped his fingers inside your open zipper. 

You could only moan in response as he slid both hands up your body and pulled your shirt over your head. He stared at you like you were beautiful, stroking his hands over all of your newly exposed skin. You expected him to want to fuck you quickly and then get back to the party, but things were never as they seemed with him.

Then his breath hitched as he ran his knuckles along your ribs on your right side, just below your bra. 

"You have a tattoo," he growled, immediately dipping his head down to kiss you there. "What does it mean?" he asked, running his tongue along your skin and making you cry out. 

"Oh! It's a math equation. Called Euler's Identity," you gasped as he nipped and bit you. "It contains the most important mathematical constants making it the only perfect formula in science," you managed to say with a shaky voice. Because now Bradley was on his knees in front of you, unhooking your bra and sliding it down your arms.

"It sure does look perfect," he told you. He kissed your tattoo again before looking up at your chest and your face. "Never seen anything better." He ran the tip of his nose along the underside of your breast, his fingers never leaving the ink on your flesh. His mouth was all over you, kissing and sucking, leaving your wet nipples exposed to the cool air. 

"I should have known you'd have a sexy math tattoo next to your tits," he said, scooping you up as he stood. "You're too fucking good to be true." 

You squealed in his arms as he walked across the room. "It's really more of a natural sciences tattoo, if you want to nitpick," you told him with a giggle, as he dropped you onto his bed and pulled his own shirt off. His body was gorgeous.

"Oh no..." he said, shaking his head at you as you scooted back to rest against his pillows, and he yanked your shoes off. "You're sounding too smart again. I must not be doing a very good job." 

You tried not to smile, but it was useless. "What are you going to do about it?" you asked, your voice shaking with need as he settled himself between your legs and stretched out over your body. 

"This." He pressed his lips to yours, tipping your chin up for better access to your mouth. Then he gently pinched your chin, easing your mouth open so his tongue could meet yours. He felt warm and slippery as he explored your mouth. When he licked your open lips, you whined, grinding your hips up again and clenching around nothing. 

"And this." He caressed your tattoo and palmed your breast with his big hand before letting his fingers trail down your body and dip into the elastic of your underwear. He slipped his fingers lower, moaning into your mouth as he eased one digit over your clit and through your wetness. 

You were going crazy now. Making unnatural little noises and pulling his hair with your hands. He knew he was making you stupid, and he was looking at you like he loved it.

But he didn't know that your orgasm in the library was the best sex of your life. He didn't know that you'd never been able to cum with any other guy before. He didn't know how much you liked him. 

"How does that feel, Sugar?" he asked, swirling his fingers along your clit just like you did to yourself when you were alone. 

"Good," you moaned, shaking your head against the pillow.

"What do you want?" He licked your breasts before pulling your nipple between his lips and teasing.

"More," you whined. "You."

He grinned. "Back to one word answers, I see."

He moved so gracefully, sliding your jeans and underwear off and settling between your legs. When he slid a finger along your slit and pressed his knuckle against your pussy, you almost couldn't stand how good it felt. "Bradley," you whined, as he kissed your hips and your belly. Then he slipped his finger into your pussy.

You watched him watching you, and he looked delighted every time your body involuntarily squirmed. He added a second finger, moving them just the right way to get you worked up. When his thumb brushed you again, your back arched off the bed. 

"Fuck," he muttered, working his fingers as he guided his body back over yours. "You're making me crazy," he groaned before kissing along your tattoo again. You wrapped your fingers around his wavy hair and watched his tongue glide across your chest. "Do you want me, Sugar?" he asked softly. "Can I have you?" 

"Yes."

When he gently removed his fingers from inside you and licked them clean, you moaned and squeezed your thighs together. He was immediately off the bed, and you gasped, missing his warmth and weight immediately. "Where are you going?" you whined, propping yourself up. 

"Need to get a condom," he replied, eyes on you as his hands shook opening a new box. "I'm coming back."

When he returned to the bed, you sat up and unbuttoned his jeans. He let you take your time guiding them down his hips and easing his boxers down as well. When you say how big and hard he was, your eyes darted up to his face. You licked your parted lips and he groaned so loudly you squeaked. 

"You're huge," you told him. He was going to hurt you. The other guys hadn't been this big.  

He must have heard the apprehension in your voice, because he told you, "We can stop," even as he was practically panting. 

You wrapped your fingers around him and gently squeezed his velvety warmth. "No. Just go slow?" you asked, running your fingers along his length. 

"Anything you want," he gasped.

------------------------------------

Bradley had never been this excited in his life. He wanted you, and you wanted him back. He'd tasted you. He knew how good your skin felt. Now he was about to fuck you. 

He was completely sober, and delighted that he would remember all of this. He had never seen anything as gorgeous as your body bathed in lamplight. 

You were whining his name as he rolled the condom on and got himself ready. He kissed your lips and cheeks, running his nose against yours until you were smiling. Then he whispered, "Sugar," against your lips as he pushed himself inside you.

Your lips were parted and your cheeks were flushed as you grasped his hair tightly with one hand and wrapped the fingers of your other hand in his sheets. He didn't dare move for a few seconds as you got used to the feel of him. You were so wet and tight and perfect, Bradley kind of wished he could just stay inside you like this. But then he started moving, and his own need was building. A few minutes of this and he could tell by the way you were responding to him that you were already close. He'd worked you up and now he wanted to be good for you. He needed to be so good for you so you would stay with him. 

So he worked his hips a little faster, filling you all the way and then easing himself out a few inches before filling you again. "Oh God," he grunted next to your ear. Your eyes were squeezed shut, your chest rising with each whimpering breath you took. "You're such a good girl," he told you, moving nice and steady. "Look at me."

Your eyes fluttered open, bright and trusting as he caressed your breasts with his right hand. Moaning louder now, you raised your hips to meet each of his thrusts. "You feel so good," you whispered, voice hitching on the last word. Bradley pressed his lips to yours, kissing you and inhaling all of your little gasps. He pushed his hand lower to tease you, and soon you were shaking beneath him, squeezing his cock with your tight little pussy until he was grunting. 

"Oh my God," you whined, shaking your head and pulling his hair as you came. Bradley pressed his lips to your tattoo and whispered your name as his last thrusts drove his own orgasm home. 

He was never going to stop touching you. Every inch of your skin that he kissed and caressed was like silk. As he pressed his lips all over your shoulder and collarbone, your grip on his hair started to loosen, and your breathing evened out.

When he started to move, you grabbed onto him, holding him against you. So he wrapped his arms around you and stayed inside you, afraid to speak and break the spell. 

Finally, you kissed his forehead and giggled softly. "I can't believe this was better than the library."

--------------------------

Beer Boy and Sugar.... oh man, they are sweet together.

Big thanks to @mak-32 for helping me along the way. This one's for you, Mak.

PART 7

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[deirdre-belle]

Itsy Bitsy - Jerome Valeska x Reader

Summary: Jerome meets Y/N in Arkham. Warnings: swearing, mentions of past violence A/N: I know it sucks but it's my first fic so bear with me.

Jerome had only been at Arkham for a week, yet he was already tempted to commit a second murder as he noticed a migraine waiting to happen had strolled right into the cafeteria.

"Hey, Ginger." Flashing a toothy grin, Greenwood plopped down on the chair across from him, and Jerome wondered if he'd be able to rip out a couple of the cannibal's rotted teeth before any of the guards had time to stop him.

"What do you want, Greenwood?"Jerome rolled his eyes and said in a bored tone.

"You see that girl over there?" He motioned towards a girl with dishevelled hair as if she hadn't brushed it in some time, and a blanket was falling off her shoulders as she doodled furiously on a piece of paper. "I dare you to spill this one her notebook."

Greenwood smirked while sliding him a plastic cup filled halfway with what Jerome hoped was water.

"No." Jerome, with a dangerous smile, slid the cup back. He wasn't in the mood to deal with Greenwood's shenanigans.

"I'm not asking, Ginger," Greenwood smirked, shoving the cup back to Jerome.

"Not interested." Jerome roughly grabbed a hold of the cup as he got ready to shove it up Greenwood's-

"Why? Because you're weak?"

Jerome froze.

He had two options. He could go over to that girl, "accidentally" spill whatever was in the cup onto her notebook, and risk her never wanting to talk to him. Or, he could refuse and prove to Greenwood and everyone else in this hell hole that he is weak, boring, and he is already walking towards her.

"Mind if I sit down?" He huffed in a bored tone.

The girl studied him for a moment before nodding her head and watching him take the seat across from her. She quickly shut the notebook before Jerome could sneak a peak at what she was drawing.

"I saw you talking to Greenwood, so I know he probably told you to pull my hair or throw that drink in my face," She grumbled.

"How did you-"

"He always tells the new inmates to be mean to me." She leaned back in her chair, fixing her blanket so that it no longer fell off her shoulders, and glaring at him as though expecting him to deny it. Instead, he asked her why Greenwood hated her so much.

At his question, she perked up. Before, she was able to hid it well, but now he could see the insanity lingering in her eyes. And her smile- Jerome nearly feel out of seat at sight of it. It was crazy, beautiful, and made it obvious she was up to no good.

"Did you know that Greenwood is afraid of spiders?" She leaned towards him conspiringly. Jerome wasn't entirely sure where this was going but he knew he liked what he was hearing.

"I'm listening," he smirked devilishly.

"One time," She beamed, "Bitsy got lost and somehow ended up in Greenwood's cell. He thinks I put him there on purpose."

She looked around, ensuring there were no witnesses before she lifted a large hairy tarantula from her lap just enough so that only Jerome could see it. There was nothing itsy about Bitsy at all. In fact, he could see why Greenwood would be freaked out by it.

"I used to have a pet snake," She mumbled sadly, "but my parents gave him to my cousin after I got locked up."

"You would have loved the circus," Jerome said, remembering how Haly's Circus had all sorts of animals.

"Have you ever been?" Her face lit up with excitement. "I've never been to a circus but I've always wanted to be one of those circus acrobats that swing from those really high bars without a net-"

"A trapeze artist?"

"Yeah!" She exclaimed louder than necessary, earning the attention of some of the other inmates. "And the animals are really cool too, though I'm glad they aren't shown at circuses anymore."

"Not at the one I'm from," Jerome scoffed. The memory of being forced to clean out the elephant cage on a scalding summer day caused him to grit his teeth.

"You're from the circus?" She asked, obviously wanting to know more.

"My mom was a snake dancer," he plastered on a smile. "You know, the snake was actually the one that led those dumb cops to her body."

"No!'" She gasped incredulously.

"Yeah." He nodded. His mouth curved into a wicked smile as a fun idea popped into his head. "So, back to Greenwood, I think I know how to get him off our backs."

"How?"

After talking to her, Jerome sauntered back to his own table where Greenwood waited impatiently. Despite his smile, he was clearly fuming.

"I knew you were too much of a wuss to do it," He sneered, although Jerome wasn't bothered by it. It just made what he planned to do a hundred times more worth it.

"You were right," Jerome shrugged, placing the cup back in front of Greenwood.

"What'd she do? Bat her eyelashes at you till you chickened out?"

"Something like that." Jerome grinned in anticipation. Greenwood brought the cup to his lips only to let out a blood-curdling screech as he threw the cup across the room.

The girl's laugh echoed through the cafeteria, gaining everybody's attention.

"You little-" Greenwood roared, charging towards the girl who looked more elated than frightened by his outburst. He never got the chance to do anything because, as soon as the guards burst in, the whole room went into a frenzy.

Half the inmates were in a panic, due to the guards tackling Greenwood. Some were screaming, crying, running around, and a few pretended to be injured. In the middle of all the chaos, Jerome spotted Y/N on the far side of the room gently picking Bitsy up and hiding him in her blanket. Then, she approached him.

"That was amazing!" She grinned. She took her notebook out from under her blanket, placed it on the table, and flipped to the last page. Carefully, she ripped the page from the notebook and handed it to him.

On the paper was a surprisingly well-drawn portrait of himself and in the bottom corner she wrote:

To Ginger -From Y/N

[saintrvckwell]

Till the end (ellie williams x reader)

ellie williams x fem!reader

summary: in the midst of brutal madness, ellie finds a moment to confess what she fears the most.

warnings: fluff, swearing, slight angst, soft moments of ellie and the reader

words count: 3.3k

a/n: oh yeah. i’m still alive. and finally wrote something that does not have ten thousands words wow? owed you something nice, tried my best to achieve that. it's short, but (i hope) comforting, at least. seattle ellie deserves the whole world.

"For all that it's worth, I would have loved you till the end."

‣

Ellie never wanted you to become a part of this. Her complicated, unresolved issues with Joel, her own inner fight with the guilt of not dying for something she considered to be the purpose of her life and repayment for those she had lost along the way. Nor be part of the inevitable outcome that Joel’s actions had caused.

Ellie never wanted to scar the only pure, untouched safety net she had in her life. 

But when she stood upon Nora’s body she had previously beaten to death, sourcing the information she came for to Seattle in the first place, she could no longer escape. To the person she was becoming, to Joel whose eyes were slowly fading away from her memory. From the look, you gave her when she came back to the theatre and Jesse let her in.

With the bloodstains on her clothes, and bruises on her arms, she handed Dina the map and you couldn’t help but notice how fragile her whole body has suddenly become. 

You didn’t say much, knowing there wasn’t anything that could fix the way Ellie felt, that could find the parts of herself she already lost while avenging someone whom she couldn’t even face after the heinous act she just committed.

Joel never wanted her to lose the remaining bits of innocence she had within her. He never wanted her to taste the ugliness of the world the way he did. Yet here she was. Convinced she had to finish this, no matter what was it going to take. How much was it going to cost. 

Jesse and Dina stood aside with a bloodstained map, marking Abby’s supposed location while you carefully grabbed Ellie’s wrist, wishing to take her to the back and clean her wounds. She couldn’t even look into your eyes, avoiding it the whole time you walked through the seats, all the way backstage. 

You sat her down on the couch, letting her take the clothes off while you went to search for some useful supplies. Back there, Dina and Jesse were upstairs, sitting by the radio, contemplating a good way of finding Tommy and the easiest route to hunt down Abby and be done with this whole thing. 

The minute you walked in, Jesse couldn’t help himself. “That was definitely not her blood.” 

Two days in and you already noticed how much this had cost her already. 

You didn’t comment, still searching through the cabinets. 

“Maybe we should just pack it up and leave,” Jesse whispered. “Right in the morning. We were in deep shit yesterday already. After this, they must be patrolling for us. We should just find Tommy and get the fuck out of here.” 

“And go where?” you dared to ask, shifting your attention to him. 

“Back home?” Dina shrugged his shoulders, joining the conversation.

“See,” you closed the cabinets and stood up, finally paying both of them your full attention. “She doesn’t have that anymore.” 

None of them would dare to argue about that. 

Jesse meant well, you were well aware of that. After all, Ellie was the reason he came to Seattle in the first place. But even though he was determined to help his friend, Jesse would never understand the full reason and justification of the way Ellie felt—why she was doing all of that.

You couldn’t help but sigh. “Ellie can’t see the sense of right and wrong right now. And the more you tell her how stupid and dangerous this is, the less she will listen to you..” 

“So you’re supporting this?” he wondered, disgruntled. 

“No,” you replied. “But I know that I can either give her shit and go home or stay and make sure she’s not going to lose the only parts of herself she has left.” 

You found what you were looking for, parts of that. Combined with what you packed before you left Jackson, you had nearly enough to fix all of Ellie’s injuries. Without uttering another word, you left Dina and Jesse to their own thoughts, not feeling the need to add anything else. As much as you understood their need to go back before things get significantly worse, you knew she would not go. 

And you would never forgive yourself if you just left her here, all alone. 

Especially after what happened a few minutes later. 

She was sitting on the old sofa by the time you got back to her, facing you backward. Before you even tried to whisper her name, you were stopped by a sight that immediately caught your attention. Most of her clothes were lying on the floor, soaked in blood and dirt. She sat there, half-naked, with her back displaying endless bruises, cuts and wounds. You couldn’t count all of them even if you tried. 

Ellie knew you were already there, but didn’t dare to look at you—not after you saw that. She was too weak to face you. Not because she was afraid of seeing the sadness and worry in your eyes; she had already gotten used to seeing that in the last two days.

More than that, Ellie would never be able to face a disappointment, not from you. Not from someone who was there for her. Who never asked why she stopped talking to Joel, why she begged you to switch patrols so she could avoid him. 

You were the last person who could see the good parts, despite digging through blood and tears to find them. And after Joel, she couldn’t afford to lose that. 

“Ellie?” you whispered, pulling her out of her thoughts. 

She wiped her tears away and nodded, giving you space to continue. 

“Is it alright if I clean your wounds?” 

You felt the need to get her approval.  

Doing her absolute best to stop those sobs from escaping her trembling lips, she covered her mouth and nodded again, giving you what you had asked for. 

You sat down quietly, right behind her, with your bucket, cloth, and nearly empty first aid kit you brought from Jackson. First, you cleaned the rest of the dry blood on her shoulders and lower back while she sat still. She let you help her, repeatedly wiping away the tears that were now heavily streaming down her bruised cheeks. 

Most of her wounds needed just some cleaning to prevent any further infection. You took your time with each one of them, making sure you were not hurting her anymore. She felt how delicate you were with your touch, how carefully you were trying to help her ease the pain.

The softness and care you had allowed her to forget about what she did out there for a second and enjoy the comfort you provided. 

A long exhale left her rosy lips. She found her mind drifting towards that the day; and the events that inevitably followed. She set her mind on leaving for Seattle the minute she left that place, despite Tommy’s desperate attempts to talk her out of it. Even when he decided to head out there first in order to protect her, she couldn’t appreciate the good thought. The pain clouded her judgment.

That day, when Tommy left, she fought with you for hours. It was the first time you saw Ellie since the horrific incident at the lodge. She was standing by your fireplace, announcing that she was leaving for Seattle and she was hoping (more like counting on the fact) that you were going to cover her ass while she quietly goes on her revenge quest.

And being the person you were and having the amount of love you had for her, of course, you would not let her go alone. 

“I don’t need a babysitter,” she stopped the minute she heard that proposal. “This isn’t your fucking business. And I’m not making you a part of that.” 

“I’m not asking for permission, Ellie,” you whispered, stepping closer to her. “I’m going with you, end of conversation.”

It went on for another twenty minutes when she was trying to talk out of you joining her. She was harsh, calling you a naive idiot more than once. But you knew that all those words, all this pain were coming from the same place of sadness she was trying to suppress. You would never hold any of this against her. 

Eventually, as she understood, it didn’t matter how hard she tried, how harsh she might have been to you. You were determined to go and there was nothing Ellie could change about that. 

Thinking about it now, weeks later, she felt guilty for the way she spoke to you. You were the last person who would deserve such treatment, given how faithfully you stood by her this whole time.

Throughout most of the days on the road, Ellie was withdrawn, immersed in her own thoughts. She wasn’t talkative but if she happened to say a word or two, she was taking out her own frustration on you.

After everything she said over the past couple of weeks, you had a full right to turn away at any point and head back home. But you didn't. 

You always stayed, despite how unbearable it was at times. Ensuring her that you were not going to walk away, in Seattle or anywhere else.

And now, as you were sitting here, cleaning her blood-stained spots and washing away the shame and guilt she had been wearing around, Ellie knew how high the stakes were—how petrifying was the thought of losing you. Despite her numerous attempts to chase you away, despite the fact that you never really established where you stood when it came to the other, you meant a lot to her. More than she was willing to admit. 

“Ellie, this one’s really deep. I’m gonna need to sew it,” you whispered, grabbing the needle and the thread, interrupting her thoughts. 

She didn’t respond, just left you to do your thing and stayed immersed in her head. 

“It’s probably gonna hurt a little,” you warned her before sticking the needle through the skin of her shoulder. 

“It won’t. I don’t feel anything,” she mumbled; for the first time. 

The response forced you to stop for a second and rethink what you have just heard. You didn’t know whether you should ask for more information. Instead, you finished your job and within a few minutes, the open wound was gone.

Ellie suddenly felt the coldness wrapping around her as soon as your hands left her body as you handed her a clean t-shirt from your backpack. 

“You should get some rest,” you whispered, standing up and grabbing the bucket with blood-soaked clothes. “I still have your snacks in my backpack, in case you were hungry.” 

There was no reaction from her. She put on the shit and stayed in the same spot, still not willing to face you. 

Part of you wanted to rush over and comfort her. But knowing how withdrawn she was lately, you didn’t want to drive her away any further. So you stood there for a second, with a bucket in your hands, and watched her, wiping away the tears from her puffy, red cheeks. 

“Please, don’t leave me.” 

It was the moment you reached for the doorknob, halfway out of the room, when she suddenly uttered that pleading statement. The walls she had been so determined to build around her aching existence were slowly falling to the ground, leaving her on her own.

There was a thought in Ellie’s head. Thought that appeared when she was gripping the iron pole, beating the words out of her enemy’s weakened body. Nora was on the verge of her own strength, not having any more power to fight Ellie, so she gave her friend up.

She handed Ellie what she came for in the first place, leaving her space to strike for one last time—finishing what she started, ending Nora’s prolonged suffering. 

And the moment she did that—hitting the one last punch, she saw you. She saw the thought of you in her mind and froze. She glanced down upon the lifeless body—but saw you. Saw you lying in your own blood, dying by her own hand. And for the first time, she feared the person she was becoming. Facing the outcome. 

Making you collateral damage of her revenge quest was a risk of its own. But being capable of hurting you on her own what was she feared the most. 

For a second, you had to process what you just heard. It wasn’t until the sobs that left her trembling mouth you felt the need to turn around and take a look at her. 

She was now standing right in front of you, finally daring to face you. 

Daring to face her what she feared the most. 

“I’m scared.”

For weeks now, she was quietly suffering, mourning in her thoughts. Now the pain crawled on the surface and she could no longer avoid it. For the first time, she let you see all of that—see the desperation in her faded green eyes and realize how long she has been suppressing all of this inside. 

“What are you scared of?” you whispered and took a step closer to her. 

She took a deep breath, trying to get ahold of her sobs before she continued, still looking into your eyes: “Of what I did.” 

You knew Ellie was not always as tough as she tried to portray herself. But seeing that right in front of you, seeing her falling down felt like a shot coming through your chest. 

“What did you do, Ellie?” 

There was a curiosity in your mind, followed by fear of what you might get. 

“I made her talk.” 

It was somehow enough. Enough to understand that the desperate need for a feeling of consolation was growing with each strike Ellie hit and with each toll it took on her.  

“Ellie—“ you took a step closer, reaching for her but she swiftly pulled away, shaking her head. 

“I’m scared,” she repeated, daring to look into your eyes. “What if I might—“

“No,” you stopped her without hesitation, knowing where this was headed. “You won’t.” 

Brushing her tears away, she suddenly looked down. “You don’t know that. You don’t know what I’m capable of. I don’t even know what I’m capable of.” 

There was a genuine worry in her voice, fear of her own self. But after all those years, after everything you’ve encountered together, you trusted her enough to confidently proclaim that she would never hurt you. 

You trusted her. But she didn’t trust herself, that was the core issue.

Which you became aware of the second she bursted into tears. 

Ellie was never quite an emotional person; she mostly tried to deal with everything on her own and as quietly as possible. Until now.

“I can’t lose you.” 

And there it was. 

The revelation between uncontrollable sobs made you come closer. 

“But I’m afraid it’s gonna happen anyway and it terrifies me to death.” 

She came to terms with the fact that you might never become hers, long before this. For all those years, Ellie yearned for you in silence, realizing she will accept any kind of role in your life, as long as she is part of it. Only now she was realising how dangerous this wish had become.

Because suddenly, there was a price. 

She was never more honest in her life than right now, displaying all of her worries in front of you. Displaying how important you were for her. For a moment, you thought, if there, perhaps, was more to her words. 

“You’re not gonna lose me, Ellie,” you whispered, slowly reaching for her hand, again. “That's just not gonna happen,” you intertwined your fingers with hers. 

“You don’t know that,” she mumbled, trying to pull away her hand but you stopped her. 

“I do. As long as I have a say in it,” you objected, stepping even closer. “No matter what you say, what you do. I’m not leaving. You can yell at me, for all I care—just like you did in my living room. But I told you then and I’m telling you now. I’m not leaving you, now or ever.” 

At that moment, Ellie suddenly didn’t know which thing she feared more. Whether it was the idea of losing you by her own force or knowing that despite her capacity to hurt you, you were never going to walk away.

Ellie couldn’t pull you into her darkness—but at the same time, she couldn’t leave you. You were her home, her whole world. Or at least, what was left of it. 

“Can you stay?” she pleaded, reaching for your other hand. 

You nodded, letting a fleeting smile slip onto your lips as you pulled her closer, wrapping both of your hands around her neck. She was hesitant at first but the second her body crashed against yours, she gave in. There was a sigh of relief escaping from her lips as she buried her head into your shoulder; tightly gripping your waist.

Making you realize how starved she must have been for that hug.

You stayed together in that little dressing room, lying together in the dark with Ellie’s hand caressing your cheek. You promised yourself to stay up and alert to watch over her but found yourself falling asleep in her arms. Now she was lying in front of you, studying your appearance, her mind drifting away to different ends. 

She wondered. About her. About you. 

She wondered if things were different, if perhaps, there was any other ending for you—one less threatening. She wondered if she would, under different circumstances, find the courage to finally confess. She wondered if the two of you would have a shot at having a relatively normal life together, despite the world you were living in. 

She wanted the best for you, and nothing less. She wanted to protect you. From the heinous world outside, and sometimes from herself as well. Looking at you, lying so peacefully next to her, she couldn’t help but think of Joel’s words. 

Perhaps now more than ever, Ellie was facing her own moral battle. There was someone in her life, someone for whom she would quite frankly walk to the edge of the universe and back. Someone whose life was carrying more value than her own. Feasibly, now she had a chance to understand the nature of his actions. 

When she had her own something to fight for. 

“Are you okay?” 

It was your voice that pulled Ellie out of her mind. 

She snapped out of her thoughts and saw your eyes.

“Did I wake you?” she whispered, concern in her voice. 

“No but you should’ve,” you chuckled. “I’m supposed to be making sure that you’re still breathing.” 

Ellie couldn’t help but laugh. “You’ve been doing that for the past couple of weeks. Now it’s my turn.” 

You felt her hand, still resting on your cheek. There was a look in her eyes that you could not quite define. In the darkness surrounding you, the two of you were staring into each other’s eyes.

Before she filled the silence with her voice. 

“Hey,” she mumbled, slowly drifting closer to you, her breath dancing on your lips. 

“Hm?” you raised your eyebrows, curious. 

“If things were different,” she whispered, guilt in her voice. “I would’ve given you a lot more than this.” 

Most of the time, Ellie struggled with her words. But now, it was crystal clear. In her own way, she made sure you knew how important you were.

For her.

You leaned closer, grabbing Ellie’s hand and intertwining your fingers. Only then, you looked into her eyes again and smiled, reassuring.

Message received.

“This,” you squeezed her hand, “is enough for me.”

“So, you think you can love even the least I can offer?” she whispered.

There was a smile on your lips. Smile that eased Ellie’s worried mind once you moved closer. “Been doing that for quite some time, already.”

She wanted to give you the world, that and so much more. In Ellie's eyes, that was what you deserved. She wanted to make sure you were going to be happy, despite the circumstances life had both given you.

Both of you were hoping for something else, for so much more.

Yet, you would never walk away. No matter the conditions you were under, you had each other. And that was enough. Enough to stay. Enough to do more than that.

[nhlclover]

8 million goals sparks fly au

✭ — summary: rutger makes sense of his feelings about sofia

✭ — warnings: one instance of cursing

✭ — a/n: he is in loooovvveee

✭ — word count: 0.68k

“Hey, are we still on for studying tomorrow night?” Sofia asked Rutger as they packed up their things.

“Can’t. We have our first game of the season tomorrow night.” Rutger smiles.

The pair of them exit the lecture hall and head outside.

“Ooh fun. Who’re you playing?” Sofia asked.

“Simon Fraser,” Rutger replies. “Hey, you should come to the game!”

“Yeah, Luca invited me.” Sofia says.

“Well great! Then there’s two people that want you there.” Rutger grins.

That smile was enough to make Sofia cave. But she shouldn’t. She really shouldn’t.

“But I don’t know, I really should finish my assignments.” She sighs.

“No way, you’ve got to come,” Rutger says. “If you come I promise I’ll score like 8 million goals for you.”

Sofia laughs. “Okay, I’ll come. But only if you score 8 million goals.”

The next night, Sofia finds herself walking into Yost with her new friends, consisting of some of the guys' girlfriends. Once she took her seat in the stands, she looked down to the ice where the guys had just started their warmups.

Sofia’s eye is drawn to the number two jersey skating around taking shots on the net.

At the start of the second period, Rutger took a skate around to loosen up his legs. He glanced at the section he knew the girlfriends usually sat in. There Sofia was, sitting next to Mark's girlfriend, a grin on her face.

His heart swelled seeing her, her smile seemingly lighting up the room.

It was hard not to look at her once he had spotted her. Seeing Sofia dressed in Michigan blue and yellow, on her feet with every goal.

When Rutger went to the room for the second intermission, all he could think about was Sofia. Not about the game, what he could do differently or where he noticed scoring opportunities, but rather the girl in the stands. The girl who was here for him. And her brother.

Fuck. Her brother.

Rutger’s brought back down by the reminder that she’s his teammate, and roommate’s, younger sister. She is the one person that Rutger should not feel this way about. Yet he does.

Every time he hears her voice, her laugh, it’s like music to his ears. When he listens to her talk about books and she goes on rants about them, and Rutger finds himself just listening to her, enamoured.

Coach Naurato comes back into the room to give a speech, which pulls Rutger from his thoughts about Sofia. Rutger manages to shove images of her out of his mind for the rest of the game. He forced himself to not look up into the stands the whole game, despite knowing that she was right there.

Not thinking of Sofia the whole night seemed to do Rutger good as he ended the night with 2 goals. Rutger keeps his head down as he showers and changes. He nearly escapes without having to talk to anyone, but Luca grabs him as he’s out the door.

“Hey, I’m just about to go see my sister, you wanna come?” Luca asks.

“Uh…sure man.” Rutger says. The two of them head out front where Rutger spots Sofia.

“Hey there!” Luca says, hugging his sister.

“Congrats on your assist.” Sofia says.

Rutger swears his heart skips a beat when she turns to him. All he wants to do is hug her too but recognizes that might not be smart to do in front of her brother.

“Nice goals.” She smiles.

“Thank you.” He smiles back. He wants to joke about the 8 million goals comment he made yesterday but refrains.

“Wanna go for ice cream?” Luca asked his sister.

“Sure, I’d love to.” She smiles.

Luca turns to Rutger. “Hey, man, nice game. I’ll see you back at home.”

“Yeah, sounds good.” Rutger nods. “I’ll see you in class, Sof.”

Sofia says goodbye softly, walking off with Luca.

Rutger walks back to the house, mentally kicking himself the whole way home. Rutger doesn’t know how he got himself into this situation, but he desperately needs to dig himself out.

[damn-stark]

Chapter 2 Stars and scars

Chapter 2 of Moonlight

Chapter 2 Scars and stars

A/N- Are you guys enjoying it?

Warning- Swearing, Aegon, some fluff, LONG CHAPTER, blood, violence, ANGST.

Pairing- Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!fem-reader, Cregan Stark x Velaryon!fem-reader

Episode- 1x08

(If you want to be tagged let me know)

————

“We join today at the Seat of the Sea to commit the Lady Laena of House Velaryon to the eternal waters, the dominion of the Merling King where He will guard her for all the days to come.”

Not long ago a raven came with the tragic news of Lady Laena’s death not so long after arriving at Dragonstone. Ever since then your father has been quiet as he grieved his sister. And ever since then, you’ve wanted to have something to say besides “I’m sorry”, but you cannot find any words to make his pain any less. Not this time.

All you can offer him is your comfort as he stands watching the guards wrapping a rope around the casket.

“…As she sets to sea for her final voyage, the Lady Laena leaves two true-born daughters on the shore.”

You wish you could offer your cousins comforting words too. And you have shared a few sweet words since you saw them again after missing them, but it doesn’t feel like enough. It truly feels like you haven’t done enough to console them or your father.

“Though their mother will not return from her voyage,” Ser Vaemond says loudly to be heard over the crashing waves. “They will all remain bounded together in blood. Salt courses through Velaryon blood. Our runs thick, our runs true….”

You blink slowly as the words register in your mind. It doesn’t affect you right away, they were nice words, but you then follow his line of gaze and see Ser Vaemond looking at your mother and brothers as he spoke those words, and you realize exactly what he’s referring to. What an asshole.

“And our must never thin,” he adds and only further narrows his glare, making you begin to curl your lip to a scowl.

However, it’s at that moment as well that Prince Daemon laughs. He just laughs. It’s his wife’s funeral what's so funny to him?

Does he know?

“My gentle niece,” Ser Vaemond continues to say gently against the sea breeze whilst the guards begin to drag the casket to the waters below. “May the winds be as strong as your back, your seas as calm as your spirit, and your nets be as full as your heart. From the seas, we came. To the sea, we shall return.”

The casket splashes into the water, causing your father to drop his head and let out a shaky breath while tears fall and hit the stone below your feet. You can’t say you share his grief, she was your aunt but you hardly knew her since they lived so far, you only ever talked to her the times your grandmother Rhaenys took you with her to visit them.

You can’t say you feel grief and heartbreak, nor do you ever want to feel that ache, you don’t want to lose your parents…at least not yet, but you do hug your father's arm tighter and only nuzzle your head more on his shoulder.

He reacts to your touch this time. He doesn’t lift his head, he just lifts one hand off the other and gently caresses your arm with his thumb to tell you he acknowledges your comfort. So you remain like that for a while longer, even as the people join the festivity above you remain by your father's side just standing in the silence of his grief. Even as your mother and brothers go up you stay with him, and he never complains. It seems he appreciates having someone to quietly comfort him. And well, you also find relief in giving such comfort.

Perhaps you would have stayed with him all night if he wanted to stay there, but your grandmother then came to you.

“Darling, why don’t you come with me and eat something, hm?”

You lift your head off your father's shoulder to meet her gaze and hesitate. You don’t want to leave him alone, but maybe he does want some privacy, so you let him go and walk up with her.

“You’ve grown a lot more since the last time I saw you,” she mentions softly. “You’re almost a woman grown.”

You shift your eyes to meet hers and nod in agreement. “I am. Sometimes though, I do wish I could stay young forever.”

Your grandmother laughs softly. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll enjoy adulthood. There’s a lot to enjoy.”

You blink with disbelief and probe on that. “Is there? Sometimes I’m unsure.”

Your grandmother cups your shoulder and stops you as you reach the table of food. “I can guarantee you there is. Once you look past all our responsibilities as women and royalty.”

You muster a soft smile at her words even if you’re unsure whether to believe her or not. You don’t add anything on the matter though and soon sigh and begin to lose your smile.

“I’m sorry,” you tell her sincerely. “About your loss, grandmother.”

You reach over and give her hand a gentle squeeze. Said woman holds your gaze and softens her smile. “Thank you, darling, now why don’t you grab something to eat and go with your cousins. They might need a few kind words or just your company.”

You nod in agreement and do the first thing she told you to do, but then find yourself away from your cousins and against the balcony that overlooks the crashing waters below after you catch a glimpse of your father just standing on the shore. Lucerys and your uncle Prince Daemon stand at opposite sides, each doing their own thing while you just watch your father let the waves crash into his legs.

For once being still and doing nothing doesn’t bother you, you’re too worried about your father to do anything but be as close as you can out of concern. You just watch him with pity, and with annoyance at your own self that you can’t help him.

“Afraid he’ll drown himself?” A manly voice interjects.

You lift your eyes to look at who had spoken beside you and see your uncle Prince Daemon. He looks a bit smug about what he just said too—is his wife’s funeral some joke to him?

Or is this how he grieves?

You sigh. “I’m just worried,” you answer out of respect. “I’m sorry for your loss, uncle.”

Prince Daemon blinks and lets his gaze linger on you for a moment with his lips slightly parted, and then his eyes just partially narrow. You can’t read what he might be thinking, all you can do is watch as he steals a glance at the crowd. You quickly follow his line of gaze and notice that he’s looking at your mother; she has her back turned and there’s other people around her, but you know, you feel that’s who he’s looking at before he drops his gaze and sighs.

“Thank you, Princess,” he finally says after a few awkward seconds of silence of him just staring.

You hum softly and offer him a partial smile before you look back at your father. You were going to find comfort by slouching and crossing your arms over the balcony to rest your chin on your hands, but you then catch a glimpse of Lucerys’s even gloomier look and turn to face your little brother instead.

“How are you holding, Luce?” You ask him.

Said boy slowly lifts his gaze to meet yours and sighs deeply as if he feels the greatest sorrow of all when in reality he’s just sad because everyone is. He didn’t know Lady Laena, nor does he know that….his real father, Ser Harwin is dead—

A fire in his cursed castle, Harrenhal, they said.

Shame really, Ser Harwin was a good man. He really loved your mother and siblings, you could tell that much.

“Will mother die too?” Lucerys asks in a shaky voice.

Oh, sweet boy.

You crouch to get at his level and shake your head. “One day,” you tell him the truth. “Dying is a natural part of life. But you don’t have to worry, Mother won’t leave us anytime soon.”

Lucerys swallows thickly and doesn’t lose the grief from his face. “Will you die?”

You can’t help but smile as you shake your head again. “You’re stuck with me for a long time.” You assure him and reach over to ruffle his hair. “That sound good?”

Lucerys lets out a relieved breath and nods. “Yes.”

“Good,” you whisper and stand up straight. “Now why don’t we go to Baela and Rhaena?”

Lucerys turns to grab his wooden horse once again. “I’ll stay here a bit longer.”

You don’t force him or try to argue, you leave him be and steal one last glance at your father before turning to head to where Rhaena and Baela are. Albeit you do run into someone not so long after you depart.

“Where is your father?” Your grandfather Corly’s asks you as he pulls his eyes away from the crowd to meet yours.

You look out at sea and respond. “At shore. He’s been there for quite some time.”

He pats your shoulder and throws you a quick passing comment, “okay thank you, darling.” He then walks past you, and you look back and watch him approach Lucerys by the balcony railing.

You pay them no mind and then look ahead to walk to your previous destination, having to maneuver through the crowd of guests paying their respects. You pass by Aegon too and hope he keeps distracted by the serving girl he’s bothering.

But your hopes are futile since he quickly manages to run up to you and throw his arm around your shoulders. “Sweet niece,” he greets with his wine breath wafting in your nose. “How I've missed you so. Home is truly not the same without you, the halls stand quiet without your precious song, and the castle is dull without your beauty.”

You shove his arm off you and part your lips to rebuttal, but someone cuts in first. “Leave her alone, Aegon.”

It’s Aemond.

Both Aegon and you look at your side and see Aemond approaching you both. And you both smile, albeit you smile at Aemond out of awe, and Aegon smiles at his brother out of mockery.

“Oh, feeling protective already brother?” Aegon teases Aemond. “Such a gentleman,” he snickers. “But you need not worry, I was just telling her how much she’s missed at home that’s all. But,” he snickers. “If you wish me to leave her alone, I will.” He shoots you a smirk before he turns and chases after another poor serving girl, letting you turn to Aemond and making him walk with you toward your cousins.

“Do you miss me terribly?” You ask.

Aemond swallows thickly and then answers. “I suppose…sleepless nights are quite boring now that you’re not there to keep me company.”

You smile wider at his response as your cheeks begin to burn. “That’s good,” you say nervously, which is odd to feel around him. “I too have now spent my nights bored. Albeit, at Dragonstone in the middle of the night when the castle is quiet, I can hear the dragon's songs. They sing at the moon…at least I like to think of it that way.” You smile softly. “There was also one night when I was out on my balcony and heard a cry I never heard before. It was the howl from a wolf; it was the most beautiful thing I’ve heard. It filled me with so much joy.”

Aemond hums softly in comprehension and you look at the sky ahead.

“Well at home you can hear the occasional shout from a worker or a drunk from the streets below.” He says with a teasing smile.

You chuckle and nod. “Yes, I remember, but strangely I don’t miss it. I enjoy the silence.” You blink and look down, catching at that moment the distant narrowed gaze of the Queen trained on you.

Her narrowed gaze makes you uneasy, but you don’t leave Aemond’s side like she probably wanted you to, you stay and continue to talk to him. “I’m sure you’d like Dragonstone. It’s quite nice.”

“I'm sure I would,” he says in agreement.

You look away from Queen Alicent and notice that you’re now approaching your cousins, and your grandmother with them so you turn and face Aemond. “I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

Aemond looks at Baela and Rhaena and then meets your gaze to nod before he parts away, letting you approach Rhaena, Baela, and your grandmother.

You offer both of your cousins a faint smile before you fall by Rhaena’s side and take her hand to give it a comforting squeeze. You proceed to stand in silence and can’t help but glance ahead, noticing Prince Daemon first and right away noticing he's focused on something ahead of him again, so you follow his line of gaze and catch your mother just across his eyesight.

Why do they keep looking at each other? Sure you might be young but you recognize those…longing stares.

What if he turns out to be your mother's lover just as Ser Harwin was hers, that’d be…well it would be good since Baela and Rhaena would be closer, but it’d be weird, no?

He’s sort of odd now that you’ve met him….

Regardless, you look away and focus back on your cousins before you notice more of what you don’t want to see. “Do either of you want anything?” You ask. “I can go get it for you.”

Rhaena shakes her head, and Baela speaks up quietly. “I'm fine, thank you.”

You’ve already said you’re sorry, so you just stay with them and wrap an arm around Rhaena to pull her in a hug.

She finds comfort in your partial embrace and wraps her arms around you to keep you close as she cries more. You let her stay for as long as she needs, you don’t mind, however, soon thereafter your mother walks over to your brothers nearby. “Go to bed,” she tells them.

“But mother,” Jacaerys rebuttals.

“Go to bed,” she insists as if in a hurry. She then looks over at you to meet your gaze and then points at your brothers with her eyes, and lastly, points at the building, letting you understand one thing; take your brothers to bed.

It's a speechless look, but you’ve learned to read what she means.

“I’m going to bed,” you tell Rhaena and Baela after you pull your gaze away from your mother's disappearing figure as she climbs down the steps that lead to the shore. “Goodnight. I’ll see you on the morrow.”

Rhaena pulls away from you and nods, letting you crouch to press a kiss on your grandmother's cheek before you meet up with your brothers and grab their shoulders to walk them to their chambers.

——

*LATER THAT NIGHT*

Quiet. It’s quiet and peaceful at Driftmark.

Much like at your new home Dragonstone, you can hear the waves crashing. That sound is loud but it brings comfort and lulls you to sleep right on top of Astraea.

Sure, you were sent to bed by your mother, but it was far too early for you and Astraea isn’t chained up and far like in King’s Landing, so you took advantage of her freedom and came to her resting by the shore. And! She also took no time to gently fly you under the stars, she loves your company and being around you, she also finds comfort in flying under the stars and skimming over the glimmering ocean with you resting on her back.

The only reason why you wake up is because she lands on shore, otherwise, you would’ve been perfectly fine sleeping on top of her all night even if it would’ve been uncomfortable.

“<You’re right,” you mutter to Astraea in High Valyrian as you sit up and stretch out your arms. “I should return to the castle.>” You let out a yawn before you swing your leg over your saddle and climb down.

When you hit the soft sand you keep your hand on your dragon and graze it along her as you walk to her head. “<I’ll return tomorrow,” you assure your dragon. “Promise.> You offer her a smile before you press your forehead against her.

Astraea mewls softly before she gently leans against you, causing you to grin brighter.

It hurts to leave her even if you’re still in the same place, but you must return before someone doesn’t find you in your quarters and causes a panic. Albeit you do take the long way back inside because you make sure to stroll through the grounds and really take in your father's home place.

It is rather small in truth, but it's still beautiful. And there’s a lot of room to roam. When you get close to getting inside, to avoid running into guards right away, you avoid the big doors and find a tunnel that leads inside.

Now you find that it is brightly lit by torches aligned along the stone walls, but it seems rather unoccupied, regardless of the fact. However, you're still careful and walk slowly in case there is someone.

And just as it seems like you’ll make it out of the tunnel without running into someone, you catch the sound of rustling feet against the sand and dirt floor and stop immediately to listen in.

“You will die screaming in flames just as your father did!” Someone exclaims; it’s a familiar voice that seems to belong to Aemond, but it’s filled with a rage that’s unknown to your ears. “Bastards!”

Your breath catches in your throat out of disbelief at the sound of his words, leaving you unable to move as you grow terribly confused as to why he would dare spit out such a venomous insult.

“My father is still alive.” You recognize that crying instantly, it’s Lucerys.

Why is he down here too?

Without waiting a moment longer, without waiting for any context over what’s going on, you break away from your spot and head to where the voices come from.

“He doesn’t know does he?” You hear Aemond snap. “Lord Strong?”

Is Jacaerys there too?

You quicken your pace and finally come across the scene, catching Baela holding onto Rhaena; whom are bleeding. You then notice Lucerys bleeding and crying on the floor, and lastly you notice Jacaerys with a blade gleaming in his hand, and then Aemond with his back turned to you with a rock in his hand. They’re fighting, but why?

Regardless, neither of the boys notice you, it seems Jacaerys is too focused on Aemond in front of him to notice you hidden under the shadows. The girls do notice you, but they don’t call out to you as to not startle Aemond or Jacaerys.

You take that in your favor to break into a sprint and charge at the spot between both boys. And yes, Jacaerys has a blade in hand, he looks the most guilty without any context, but Lucerys is crying and bleeding the most, and so are your cousins. Aemond might be your best friend, you might be partners in the future, but your brothers come first. Always. Without a fault.

It’s why you call out to Aemond first. “Aemond—”

However, just as you get in between Aemond and Jacaerys, suddenly something sharp and hard slices up over half of your face, triggering writhing pain, and causing blood to begin pouring out. And since you were caught off guard the power of the impact knocks you to the ground.

The moment your body hits the ground Baela and Rhaena cry out your name, as soon as Jacaerys snaps from his stupor he calls out for you too, and finally drops his blade and falls on his knees beside you.

Tears escape past your eyes because of the pain even if you’re trying to be strong. “Ar—are you okay?” You try to ask Jace as you slowly lift your face to meet his worried gaze.

But at that moment, Aemond interjects with your name uttered in disbelief.

You slowly meet his widened gaze and notice the cuts on his face that are bleeding as well, while that anger you heard in his voice before is gone now as he sees your cut barely hidden under your hand as you try to press on it.

“I,” he shakes his head and steps forward.

Yet before he can get any closer a cry breaks out in the stunned silence that filled the tunnel. “Don’t touch my sister!” Lucerys shouts as he charges at Aemond and swings the blade he has in hand up against Aemond’s face.

Right away Aemond cries out in pain and falls to the floor grabbing at his face, while Lucerys begins to slowly approach you.

“Aemond?” You call out and sit up.

“Cease this at once!” A voice booms and hurried footsteps rush inside.

You look back and see that it’s Ser Harold and other Knights of the Kingsguard.

“Get away!” Ser Harrold commands as he approaches Aemond writhing in pain.

“Give me your hand,” Rhaena breaks your attention away from Aemond.

“Princess,” a knight calls out and approaches you as Rhaena and Jacaerys are helping you to your feet.

“Gods be good,” you catch Ser Harrold mutter.

You try to look at Aemond, but then you’re led out of the tunnel by the knights.

“Lucerys,” you call out to the boy walking by your side. “What happened let me see.”

Your little brother turns to face you as you’re getting escorted to the main hall, and you see that his nose is bleeding and a bit crooked.

It must be broken.

“You’re bleeding,” he points out as the blood slows down but keeps trickling down your burning cheek.

“So are you,” you point out. “We’ll get you better, okay?”

He nods and raises his hand to let it hover over his nose. You then turn to your cousins to examine them, but it doesn’t seem like they broke anything. “Baela, Rhaena, are you two okay?” You ask anyway through your pain.

Baela meets your gaze and quickly finds your cut and nods. “Yes, we’re fine. You’re not.”

You hum and then try to look back at Aemond following behind all of you, but before you can see how badly he’s hurt you’re ushered into the hall. They sit you down by the doors, and your brothers and cousins surround you whilst Ser Harrold walks Aemond close to the fireplace to sit him down on a chair, blocking your view and only letting you hear his complaints.

Soon the room begins to fill as maesters are brought in, one for Aemond and one to tend to you. Queen Alicent, Helaena, and Aegon then rush in, your grandfather the King then follows and looks immediately bewildered by what he sees; Aemond getting his wound cleaned and stitched up, and you in the same predicament, but says nothing, he watches instead.

After the maester stops your bleeding and begins to clean your wound, you feel how long the cut is; it starts from your cheek and trails up to where your cheekbone starts. It's deep too, or so you heard the maester say through the stinging pain that clouds your mind as he daps the wet cloth on your cut.

You do hope the pain will be over soon, but it only worsens as the maester then begins to stitch up your wound. Luckily Lucerys and Rhaena are holding your hands, it comforts you.

However, you still don’t know why the fight was caused. Like the adults in the room, you’re just learning too.

“How could you allow such a thing to happen?” You hear your grandfather finally ask. “I will have answers.”

“The princes were supposed to be abed, My King,” Ser Harrold says.

“Who had the watch?”

“Young prince was attacked by his own cousins, Your Grace,” Ser Criston interjects.

“You swore oaths to protect and defend my blood,” your grandfather argues.

“I’m very sorry, Your Grace,” Ser Harrold apologizes. Unlike Ser Criston.

“The Kingsguard has never had to defend princes from princes,” the young knight counters.

“That is no answer!” Your grandfather cuts him off.

“Almost done,” the maester tells you as he impales the needle in your flesh once again, making you wince and hold on tighter to Rhaena’s hand.

“It will heal, will it not maester?” You overhear Queen Alicent ask about Aemond, causing you to hold your breath.

“The flesh will heal,” the maester responds, “but the eye is lost, Your Grace.”

You gasp softly and lower your gaze from the disbelief and guilt, even if it wasn’t you who caused it.

“Where were you?” Alicent then yells.

“Me?” Aegon asks and then exclaims. “Ow! What was that for?”

You look up and see her hitting him, but why? He wasn’t even near, you only came across them because you were sneaking back into the castle. Aegon is a creep, but he wasn’t there to deserve to get punished.

“That was nothing compared to the abuse your brother suffered while you were drowning in your cups, you fool!” Alicent spats at Aegon with unnecessary fury against him.

“What is the meaning of this?!” The sound of your grandfather Corlys’s voice booms in, making you want to look back, but you can’t, so you're just left hearing him, and then your grandmother as she rushes in after him.

“Baela! Rhaena!”

Both girls look back, however, Rhaena doesn’t leave your side, but Baela does meet your grandmother halfway.

“What happened?” Your grandmother asks her before she calls out your name with worry and finally comes into view before you, along with your grandfather.

“Gods,” she mutters as she crouches down beside the maester and places her hand over your arm.

And now that you see her, now that she comforts you, the emotions get the best of you, the pain riddles you, and you can’t help but begin to cry.

“Will she heal?” Your grandmother asks, whilst your grandfather tilts his head to study your cut.

The maester finally pulls back and looks at your grandmother. “The flesh will, but it will scar.”

You gasp and your chest only gets heavier with more emotion.

“Who did this?” Your grandfather demands to know. “Who did this to you?”

You swallow thickly and without saying anything you look over at where Aemond is sitting. Both of your grandparents follow your line of gaze and find Aemond.

Before your grandfather can say anything though, the door opens and you instantly hear your mother call out to you and your brothers.

You drift your eyes over to her and see her rushing over, causing your grandparents to move to the side to let her reach you.

Now that you see her too, those emotions weighing you down find a way out through a shaky sob.

“Let me see, let me see,”

You slide your hands away from Lucerys and Rhaena’s hands to grab your mother's wrist as she cups your jaw and tilts your head to study the now stitched-up cut.

“Will it heal?” She asks the maester the same question just asked seconds ago.

“Mother,” you whimper out.

“The flesh will heal,” the maester repeats. “But it will scar.”

Your mother's gaze falls back on you filled with pity and hurt. “Oh my sweet,” she whispers and caresses your other cheek.

“Lucerys,” you point out now. “He’s hurt too.”

At the mention, her eyes snap to your brother still beside you. “Show me, show me,” she says as she moves to focus on him.

“I’m sorry Mother,” you instantly apologize. “I was out with Astraea and when I got there he was already hurt. They all were, I’m sorry.”

She swallows thickly and lets her gaze linger on Lucerys nose for a second longer before she meets your watery gaze. “It’s okay, my sweet, it’s okay. I believe you,” she assures you.

“I’m sorry Luce,” you now direct at him. “I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head very softly and assures you just like your mother did. “It’s okay it’s not your fault. Are you better?”

You sigh and nod to comfort his worry. “I will be.”

He grabs onto your hand again and stays close as your mother looks back at the crowd. “Who did this?” She asks.

“The twins and the boys attacked me!” Aemond blurts as he turns around on his chair, letting you finally see the injury he sustained—His eye is swollen and red, the cut is long and deep, and it starts over his eyebrow and crosses across his eye, ending on his cheek.

As the other kids begin to argue back in their defense all you can focus on is Aemond’s wound. The blood is now dry but to your own guilty eyes, it's bright, still fresh, and the cut is still open. All that you can think about is the fact that he’ll never see out of that eye again.

Will he hate you now too?

“It should be my son telling the tale!” Queen Alicent cutting into the kids' argument breaks you from your train of thought.

“He called us—”

“Silence!” Your grandfather cuts everyone off and only provides more tension.

“He called us bastards,” Jace whispers to your mother, making her stand and turn to face the crowd.

Before she can say anything though, your grandfather calls out to you, making you slowly drift your eyes over to him. “Tell me the truth of what happened.”

Your gaze snaps to your mother as she peers back. You don’t ask her anything out loud, but you ask for reassurance with your eyes.

She nods softly, letting you return your attention to your grandfather.

“I’m sorry, Your Grace, but I was not there to see all of the fight,” you tell the truth. “I was out with Astraea and when I was coming back inside I ran into them already fighting. I tried to stop it, but…” you hesitate as you’re stuck whether saying his name even if everyone knows already.

Can you go against him? You ask yourself.

“Say it,” your grandfather commands as he notices your silence.

“I was hurt on accident…”

“I didn’t mean it,” Aemond blurts. “She got in the way.”

Your gaze drifts to where he is, and even if he doesn’t turn around, you keep your eyes there for a lingering second before you continue. “After that is when Lucerys hurt Aemond,” you finish and right away drop your gaze and begin to bite the inside of your left cheek.

“Now you, Aemond,” your grandfather continues as he begins to limp towards Aemond. “I will have the truth of what happened. Now.”

“What else is there to hear?” Queen Alicent cuts in. “Your son has been maimed. Her son is responsible.”

“It was a regrettable accident.” Your mother quickly cuts in.

“Accident?” Alicent quips. “The prince Lucerys brought a blade to the ambush. He meant to kill my son.”

You quickly look up and begin to narrow your gaze on Alicent, knowing she was being overly dramatic.

“My daughter was maimed as well, and my sons were attacked and forced to defend themselves and their sister.” Your mother counters with anger. “Vile insults were levied against my sons.”

“What insults?” Your grandfather the King questions right away.

“The legitimacy of my son's birth was put loudly to question.”

“What?” Your grandfather presses your mother.

“He called us bastards,” Jacaerys cuts in, bringing a brief silence as everyone involved takes in what was said.

“My sons are in line to inherit the Iron Throne, Your Grace,” your mother continues. “This is the highest of treasons. Prince Aemond must be sharply questioned so we might learn where he heard such slanders.”

Said boy looks back with his eyebrow furrowed in what you can read as…annoyance?

“Over an insult?” Queen Alicent mutters. “My son has lost an eye.”

Over an insult that he had to learn from someone; your grandfather wouldn’t say it, maybe others at court would, but why would Aemond listen to them, which leaves the one person who spends the most time with him, her. He learned it from her.

“You tell me, boy,” your grandfather presses Aemond harder as he gets closer. “Where did you hear this lie?”

“The insult was training yard bluster,” Alicent quickly cuts in for Aemond. “The lot of boys, it was nothing.”

“Aemond,” your grandfather ignores her. “I asked you a question.”

“Where is Ser Laenor, I wonder? The children’s father.” Alicent cuts in again, this time with an off topic question, as if she’s nervous. “Perhaps he might have something to say in the matter.”

“Yes,” your grandfather agrees with her for the first time tonight. “Where is Ser Laenor?”

“I do not know, Your Grace,” your mother responds, “I…could not find sleep. I had gone out to walk.”

“Entertaining his young squires, I would venture,” Alicent dares to rebuttal, making your face twist to a scowl, and for a scoff to escape past your lips.

Not only that but in the silence that consumed the hall you manage to hear a snicker, you quickly look over at where it comes from and see Ser Criston snickering like a gossiping girl. What a piece of shit.

You let go of Lucerys hand and fist your hands before you try to push yourself. However, before you can get up, a heavy hand pushes you down. You quickly look back and see that it’s your grandfather Corlys.

He doesn’t say anything, but you know not to pursue anything, even if all you want to do is call Ser Criston out.

“Aemond,” your grandfather the King cuts in and ignores Alicent’s comment. “Look at me. Your King demands an answer. Who spoke these lies to you?”

You let out an annoyed breath and tilt your head to try and see him, but there’s people in the way so you wait for an answer in the short silence.

“It was Aegon.” He deadpans.

“Me?” Said boy asks in confusion.

Now the attention goes to him, and your grandfather the King limps towards him as well to interrogate him. “And you, boy? Where did you hear such calumnies? Aegon! Tell me the truth of it!”

“We know, father,” you hear Aegon answer. “Everyone knows. Just look at them.”

All eyes drift to your brothers by your mother. Nothing is said but the tension heightens, making you sink further in your own seat.

“This interminable infighting must cease!” Your grandfather the King shouts as he slams his cane against the stone floor. “All of you! We are a family! Now make your apologies and show goodwill to one another. Your father, your grandsire, your king demands it!” He then begins to walk away from his children, no one adds anything else on the matter, but Alicent then interrupts and tries to continue the argument.

“That is insufficient. Aemond has been damaged permanently, My King. Goodwill cannot make him whole.”

“I know, Alicent. But I cannot restore his eye.”

“No, because it’s been taken!” She cuts him off.

“What would you have me do?” Your grandfather argues.

“There is a debt to be paid,” she daringly shares. “I shall have one of her son's eyes in return.”

You gasp and stand up to pull back Lucerys as he backs away out of fear.

“My dear wife—”

“He is your son, Viserys!” Alicent cuts your grandfather off with a shaky voice. “Your blood.”

“Do not allow your temper to guide your judgment,” he counters regardless of what she said.

Albeit she continues. “If the King will not seek justice, the Queen will. Ser Criston, bring me the eye of Lucerys Velaryon.”

Your eyes widen with shock, whilst you also fill with fear. However, you still tighten your grip on Lucerys shoulder and continue to pull him back with you.

“Mother,” he cries out desperately.

“He can choose which eye to keep a privilege he did not grant my son,” Alicent adds.

“You will do no such thing,” your mother counters as she lifts her chin.

“Stay your hand!”

“No, you are sworn to me!” Alicent yells over your grandfather.

Considering Ser Criston was just giggling, you wouldn’t put it past him to do it, but he surprises you. “As your protector, my Queen.” He says, making you smirk at the ground.

“Alicent, this matter…is finished,” your grandfather tells her. “Do you understand?”

Alicent doesn’t say anything luckily, letting your grandfather turn again and add on. “And let it be known, anyone whose tongue dares to question the birth of Princess Rhaenyra’s sons should have it removed.”

Your smirk deepens.

“Thank you, Father,” your mother says before she turns to face you and your brothers. “Come on, let's go to your chambers to put you to bed.” She says.

You nod and sigh with relief as you’re finally liberated from the tension of this hall. However, just before anyone can leave, shouting breaks in the hall again, this time it’s Ser Harrold.

“Your Grace—Stay with the King!”

“Alicent!”

You blink and look up, catching Queen Alicent storming over with a blade in her hand. “Mother!” You cry out.

Said woman quickly stands up and turns around, managing to slap her hands on Alicents shoulders.

“Hold your approach!”

You reach out for Jacaerys and pull him back with you and Lucerys, whilst your grandfather Corlys also begins to push the three of you away.

“Do not, Ser Criston!”

“Alicent!”

Your eyes fly to every corner of the room; to your terrified brothers, where your grandfather the King is, to Ser Criston as he begins to charge over at your mother and Alicent, but quickly gets stopped by Daemon. You then look at the house guards that begin to block you as they surround your mother and Alicent, and lastly, you look at your mother as she’s trying to hold Alicent back. Panicked tears fill your eyes and worry begins to make your heart pound.

“You’ve gone too far,” your mother spats at Alicent.

“What have I done but what was expected of me?” Alicent cries. “Forever upholding the kingdom, the family, the law. While you flout all to do as you please.”

“Alicent!” Your grandfather bellows. “Let her go!”

“Where is duty?” She continues to spat. “Where is sacrifice? It’s trampled under your pretty foot again.”

“Release the blade, Alicent!” The hand Lord Otto finally speaks but with no urgency.

“And now you take my son's eye,” she continues to add through tears. “And to even that you feel entitled.”

You let go of your brothers and take a step forward since neither let go of the other.

“Exhausting, wasn’t it?” Your mother rebuttals. “Hiding beneath the cloak of your own righteousness. But now they see you as you are.”

With those last words whispered suddenly you catch Alicent swing the blade down, causing your mother to stumble back towards your grandfather Corlys.

You quickly break away from your spot and approach your mother, catching now that Alicent had cut your mother's arm in her fury.

“Mother,” you whisper with shock.

Metal then clashes against the floor, and when you look over you see Alicent has dropped the blade now after she did what she did. Now she looks remorseful, but it’s too late.

“Do not mourn me, Mother,” Aemond cuts in, breaking away all the attention from the tension. “It was a fair exchange. I may have lost an eye…but I gained a dragon.”

He briefly meets your gaze, but you look away out of guilt for what happened to him, and also anger for what just happened to your mother.

“This proceeding is at an end,” your grandfather once again ends the argument, but now it's finally finished, no one speaks, silence once again fills the hall with even thicker tension, and Daemon approaches your mother, your brothers by her, and you, as if protecting all of you.

It is…weird? But your father isn't here to do it either so it’s…nice?

Your mind can’t really give it too much thought though. So you leave it sort of weird since he’s just an uncle, but nice because he’s being protective. Instead, after all that madness you can find some sense of relief, worry still chokes you up since your mother is still wounded and a faint tension does cover all of you, but you aren't in the hall anymore surrounded by so many people, or having to listen to arguing.

And maybe you shouldn’t let the tension build, your mother has had the chance to scold all of you now that you’re alone, but she hasn’t.

“You will scar,” the maester lets your mother know. “But the wound will heal.”

You drop the tension from your shoulders as you let out a relieved breath.

“Valyrian steel cuts clean.” The maester finishes saying before the doors open. When you look over you see your father finally walking in. He walks further into the room where you all reside, and his eyes fall on the maester finishing stitching your mother's wound before he glances at Lucerys with cotton in his nose, and then at Jacaerys who probably only got bruises, and lastly his eyes fall on you and the wound on your face.

“Gods,” he says and studies your scar for a moment longer. “Is everyone all right?” He asks even if he sees his answer.

Even then you nod softly even if your cut fucking stings.

“The broken nose is the worst,” the maester lets him know.

“Thank you, maester,” your mother interjects. “Leave us.”

Said man doesn’t hesitate to get up and collect his things before doing what he’s told.

“You as well,” your mother then directs at your siblings and you. “You’ve already found enough trouble today.”

You part your lips to argue, but you consider her pain and just suck it up and nod. “Yes, mother.”

You gently grab the shoulders of Jacaerys and Lucerys and nudge them out with you. When you pass by your father you offer him a sweet smile and give his arm a gentle squeeze, he returns the acknowledgment before you walk away and leave the room.

“How about we take a stroll outside, yes? We can be by the shore and get our minds off all this matter?” You suggest to your brothers for your own benefit. “We can even bring Baela and Rhaena.”

Lucerys twists around to face you and begins walking back. “I want to do that!” He exclaims and then looks at Jacaerys. “Jace do you?!”

Your brother looks unsure, but he doesn’t deny the request. “Sure,” he gives in.

You beam at them and then focus on Lucerys. “Go grab a cloak while I get changed.”

Lucerys nods quickly before he turns and runs with Jace, letting you walk to your chambers. And just as you reach the doors there outside the door is Aemond.

He seems to get surprised when you approach your quarters, and you fill with disbelief at his own presence. Yet you can’t muster a word as all you focus on is his wound. Those emotions of guilt and shame that you wanted to avoid feeling come rushing back at that moment.

You wish to apologize to him even if you didn’t commit the act, but all you can do is part your lips.

Aemond licks his lips before he parts his mouth, he steps forward, but he too falls silent and just holds your gaze.

He was probably leaving soon too, which means you won’t see him for a long time, but still, nothing comes out. Instead, you turn and walk in your quarters. When the door is closed you linger there for a moment and fight with yourself whether to go and apologize and ask how he’s doing, or not. But the guilt doesn’t let you move so you walk further in your quarters and let him walk away.

You’ll speak on the problem when the event isn’t so fresh in your mind, and when the guilt isn’t as heavy. As of now, you change out of your old gown and into a new one to try and hurry up and meet up with your brothers.

However, when you leave your quarters and enter the hall, there they are at the other, but between them and you is a handmaiden, one of Queen Alicent’s.

“Princess,” she bows her head before continuing. “Queen Alicent and the King request an audience with you at the grand hall.”

You blink in disbelief and fill with worry. “Alone?” You ask.

“Your mother and father will be there,” she informs you, bringing some ease, but not enough.

“All right,” you sigh and walk past her to reach your brothers. “Go, I'll find you two later.” You offer them a small faltering smile.

Neither Jace nor Luce argue, they remain curious as to what could be happening, but they go and do as they’re told while you head to the grande hall alone. Before you reach the doors luckily your parents catch up to you.

“What’s going on?” You ask your mother.

“I don’t know,” she shrugs quite nervously, but she tries to hide. “We’ll find out.”

The doors open and there they are, the Queen and King. The King watches you all walk in, his gaze lingers on your mother before he averts his gaze, while the Queen stands straight up and firm with a fur cloak over her body, looking elegant and regal, and stern and intimidating for the first time.

Not because she hurt your mother, but because of what she might want.

Wait…

Is she going to accept the marriage proposal?

Your hopes rise now at the thought.

“I apologize for such a spontaneous audience,” Alicent breaks the awkward silence. “I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”

Your mother shakes her head. “No, Your Grace. We were just finishing catching up on last night's matters.”

Alicent nods and averts her gaze for a second before she draws out a deep breath and clasps her hands in front of her before continuing. “The King and I have come to an agreement on a punishment for what happened to Prince Aemond.”

Oh….

Just like that your hopes that had begun to rise and overtake the guilt, get squashed, heightening the guilt that riddles you.

“Punishment?” Your father counters and shakes his head. “It was a regrettable accident.”

Right away Alicent’s eyes snap to your father and she rebuttals all well collected. “The matter was discussed already Ser Laenor, it won’t be brought up again. If you had been there then you could have given some insight, but you weren’t.”

You glance at your father and see him drop his gaze and sigh.

“It’s decided that the Princess will be sent to Winterfell to be the ward of Lady Margaret Karstark, the wife of Lord Bennard Stark…”

Just like that, the guilt you felt disappears, it no longer torments you, now fear and shock slams into you, making your heart feel as if it skipped a beat, and causing a gasp to escape past your lips, whilst everything around you blurs.

Your greatest fear is coming true, you’re being sent away. Far from your mother, brothers, and father. Far, far away to the edge of the world where it never stops snowing, where the sun is a rare visitor. You’re being sent away...

“Mother,” you mutter in a broken voice and said woman grabs your arm and begins to pull you back behind her to shield you as if that would stop you from being sent away.

“She will reside there for five years, perhaps Lady Karstark will make a true lady out of her and she’ll drop this…wild and reckless behavior,” she continues to add on. “She will then go to King's Landing once she’s turned 17 to marry Prince Aemond.”

And you won’t even return to your mother after five years, you’ll go to her, the evil bitch Queen. A witch with no kindness in her heart to those who aren’t her kids.

“Is this your decision father?” Your mother asks your grandfather directly. “To send my only daughter away from me? She needs me. She’ll need me.” She says with a voice she was trying to keep serious and collected, but you can hear the cracks as tears threaten to spill.

“She did not do anything,” your father cuts in on your defense. “She was only protecting her brothers and trying to stop the altercation.”

“She’s a Princess, Rhaenyra,” Alicent ignores your father. “Beautiful at that matter, and part of two noble families, she will be sent away regardless...”

You shake your head and can’t stop your tears from breaking out. Your mother and father keep trying to argue against what was decided, your mother fought the most, but nothing after that comment traveled through your ears, your mind races with far too many thoughts to take in anything else. All you know is that nothing changed their—her mind.

It’s almost as if Alicent knew your fear and was toying with it on purpose just to be evil. She definitely knew how much your mother loved you and toyed with that too, using what happened as an excuse to be even more cruel to her. She made your nightmare come true.

It’s why out of desperation and heartbreak you run out of the hall. Your parents were probably calling out for you, but you didn’t hear that either with how loud your heart was pounding, and how loud your thoughts raced.

You run out of the castle even as your vision keeps clouding with tears, you continue to run and run until your feet trip over something, causing you to fall on your knees. It’s only after that moment that you realize you’re now out at the beach, on the rough grains of sand, far from the castle.

Maybe if you continue on you’ll be far away so you won’t have to leave. You can try and leave…

You lift your head to look at the miles of sand ahead and come to see Astraea descending from the sky. She lands before you and growls softly before she wraps her neck and body around you, keeping you safe from the clutches of the Evil Queen Alicent, and safe from going to Winterfell. She comforts you and keeps you from running away at that moment.

But maybe you should climb on her and fly away even still, she won’t argue or turn around if you don’t want her to.

Yet, of course just before you can think of climbing on the saddle, she begins to uncurl herself as you hear someone approach. You don’t check who it might be right away, you’re too upset to do it and wish to be alone.

You hoped that message would come across while you remained lying on Astraea. But it doesn’t.

Your name is called out by Aemond.

You almost don’t want to give him your attention, but you can’t help it, you wipe your tears away and slowly look over at him cautiously standing at a distance.

“Aemond,” you mewl.

Said boy swallows thickly and nods stiffly. “I’ve heard,” he mutters. “My mother told me.”

You draw in a shaky breath before letting out a shaky sob. “I-I’m being sent away. Far to the edge of nowhere.” You drag your legs up against your chest and hide your face on your knees as you hug your legs to find comfort. “I won't see my mother, or-or my father. My brothers…” you trail off and snap your head up to look at Aemond, noticing that he’s closer now.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble as the thought of what happened crosses your mind as well. “I am.”

Aemond shakes his head. “It was not you. You need not worry. Why don’t we,” he pauses to take a seat beside you against Astraea and then continues sweetly. “Talk about you.”

You scoff. “What is there to say? The…Queen,” you correct yourself before you can offend his mother in front of him. “…Decided. Unless you want to run away with me then there’s nothing to be done.”

Aemond keeps his eye trained on the sand below and remains quiet for a moment until he finds words he thinks will comfort you. “Why would we run away? We are meant to marry when you return to King’s Landing. I will be far older, more mature, worthy of you.”

You sniffle and slowly drag your eyes to the side to meet his single eye.

“If I leave, if we leave,” he continues. “I don’t know if I will ever be a worthy husband. We will be reckless, miserable.”

“I don’t think so,” you say and look at the clouds forming in the sky. “We will be free from any responsibility…Perhaps I will just run away alone,” you snap and turn your head away.

“I…don’t want you to run away,” he whispers.

You’re upset he’s turning you down, but you can’t help but look back at him in disbelief.

“Stay,” he adds. “Here in Westeros. Please.”

Please? And so softly spoken too?

Well…you don’t want to break your mother's heart either.

“Okay,” you whisper to Aemond without more of a fight. “Fine.”

Aemond releases a small sigh of relief and then lets a silence bask the both of you that lets only the sound of the crashing waves fill your ears. Neither of you move, he doesn't try to run off, and no one comes over yet to bring you back to the castle. You were left alone, in peace, and comfort, letting Aemond slowly reach for your hand to wrap his around yours and secure it in his hold.

You get surprised by the gentle touch, even if he's always been kind—he's just never been the first one to take your hand, it was always you. So it's a nice and heartwarming change that he reaches out first. It makes you smile.

“I will wait for you,” he breaks the silence. “I swear I will.”

As sad as you are about being sent away, that does heal your heartache.

If only your heart can fully heal by not being sent away, but, nothing will change this new fate that branched out in your path of life.

Nothing stops it.

——

*SOMETIME LATER*

“Here…I wanted to give it to you for your 13th name day, but now seems like the perfect time,” your grandmother says and opens a small golden box, revealing a beautiful dark gray glimmering chain necklace.

It was like your mother's necklace she wore often, the one made of Valyrian steel.

“Is it Valyrian steal?” You muse as you brush your fingers over the pendant that the chain necklace carries.

Your grandmother nods with a prideful smile on her face. “Yes. It is,” she assures you and picks it off the box, letting you study the three-headed dragon from your Targaryen family sigil that’s embedded on the pendant. She then turns it and you see the mythic seahorse from your Velaryon family sigil, and it only wows you even more.

“It’s beautiful, I love it!” You squeal and turn to let her clip the necklace around you. Once she’s done you turn and wrap her in an embrace. “Thank you, grandmother.”

She returns your embrace and squeezes you tighter. “I’ll write, all right? We will keep in touch.” She reassures you.

You pull back and nod with a wobbly smile.

Now it’s your brother's turn, and so far you’ve kept from crying, you’ve remained strong, but Lucerys is crying, making tears well in your eyes as well.

“Don’t cry, Luce,” you tell him and crouch down to wipe his tears away. “We will see each other again. I will write all the time. It will be as if I never left.”

“But it won’t because I won’t see you. Don’t leave me,” he cries and throws his arms around you before crying harder. “Please Mother, don't let her leave!”

Tears run down your cheeks and you squeeze him gently. “We’ll see each other again, don’t worry…I love you.” You try your best to comfort him.

He then pulls back and sniffles. “I love you too.”

Next is Jacaerys who is tougher than Lucerys, or so he's pretending to be. You can see the tears gleaming in his eyes.

“Promise to write?” You tell him. “All the time? So I won't miss you a thing?”

He nods. “I will.”

You offer him a soft wobbly smile before you pull him in an embrace. “I love you too, Jace. I’ll miss you, brother.”

Jacaerys lets out a shaky sigh and lingers in the embrace. “I’ll miss you as well.” He then pulls back and drops his head to hide the tears that manage to escape from his eyes.

Next is your father. Now those few tears threaten to turn into a sob.

“Every time I look at the sky I’ll think of you,” your father says as he cups your cheek, making you grin

“And I of you,” you redirect and hold his gaze for a lingering moment before you throw your arms around him and keep him close to you in hopes you wouldn’t be able to leave like this.

Albeit even if he doesn’t want you to pull away and leave either, he loosens his grip and lets you slip away to lastly move on to your mother. Now those tears no longer stay, you can’t be strong saying goodbye to her. You immediately hug her and sob into her shoulder.

“I will write to you every week,” your mother assures you. “Maybe even sooner than that. All right, my sweet girl?”

You nod and comfort her too. “I will write back each time.”

“If anything happens you tell me, come to me if you must,” she presses so you can always keep it in mind. “I love you, my darling girl. So much.”

She presses kisses on the side of your head and lingers before she forces herself to pull back. However, instead of letting you go, she presses a kiss on your forehead first. “We will see each other again.” She says tenderly.

You nod in comprehension and catch the tears that roll down the curve of her cheeks. “I love you, Mother,” you return just as affectionately. “I’ll miss you.”

Your mother offers you a sweet smile and caresses your cheek one more time before finally letting you go before she just didn’t.

But even then you make it your job to drag your feet and take as much time as you possibly can to board that ship. And once the ship does depart from the dock you stand at the end of it and watch as your mother's figure turns smaller and smaller, the others seem to have left, but she remained there until neither of you were visible.

After that the only companion you had left was Astraea, she followed the ship, casting a dark shadow over the deck for the month that it took to arrive at the harbor called the White Harbour. Once you made your way to Winterfell the shadow remained cast over you until you arrived

What was once bright blue skies, green hills, and warm air turned to gray dull skies, white hills as nothing but cold snow was seen for miles on end, and a bitter air nipped at your flesh. It was truly a bland place deprived of color, secluded with nothing around it. No oceans, no towns, or people.

The first person you laid your eyes on once arriving at Winterfell after miles of no one was a young man it seems. He stood on the wall that surrounded that gray castle. He wore a big fur cloak that stood out against all the others. Even if you weren’t close you do notice that his piercing eyes are dark, and intimidating as well, but it intrigues you; his face is pale too, and he isn't terrible to look at.

You always imagined northern men to be scary, to be huge men, but he wasn’t that. He's alluring and takes your breath away.

You are hidden in your carriage, but it seems he saw you too and that makes your heart skip a beat like nothing has before.

.

.

.

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A/N- We’ll have two full chapters of Cregan content!

Tagged- @namelesslosers @stargaryenx @chainsawsangel @cloudroomblog @llarue @padsdarlg @sofietargaryen @gracielikegrapes @dreaming-of-the-reality @itzelpeyton @mrsdominickstark @elaena-aerrin @todoroki-slut @snh96 @urmomsgirlfriend1 @nifujiswhore @sweethoneyblossom1 @kaetastic @lightdragonrayne

[wheneclipsefalls]

Forever My Babygirl pt.4

Part 3 I Masterlist I ao3 I

Pairing: 16 year old Tuktirey x Male Metakyina OC

Summary: Safe under the florescent glow of the ocean, Tuk and Teeysal share a special moment. Unfortunately, keeping secrets is a dangerous game to play. 

A/N: To everyone that has stuck around while I’ve struggled to put together the trajectory of this story: you’re a true one, thank you! I’m already working on part 5 and I’m really excited about it so hopefully the next update won’t take as long this time

Warnings: Light angst, swearing, aged up characters, forbidden love

Yawne - beloved 

Tsireya delicately looped the strands back and around one another, careful not to pull too hard on Tuk’s scalp. Her fingers struggled to keep hold of the various sections of hair while intertwining small shells into the woven work. Tsireya always had a hard time turning down Tuk’s request to do her hair, especially when she wove precious flattery into the pleas. Besides, Tsireya was simply happy to see Tuk finally recovered from being sick and back to her old self. 

“Such pretty shells.” She murmured admiring a particular speckled blue crescent shaped one that shimmered in the light. “Where did you find them, Tuk?” The innocent question made Tuk’s smile drop. 

She couldn’t tell Tsireya where they had really come from. Teeysal had spent hours scouring different beaches and coral reefs for the perfect shells, gathering them in a small netted bag that was sneakily presented to the Sully girl when her parents were out. The proud smile on his face when she expressed awe and approval still made her heart flutter fondly. 

“J-just been collecting them for a while.” The jumbled response came out hastily. Neytiri always said that Eywa had blessed her with an honest heart and a desire to do good, but now Tuk felt that these gifts were becoming a curse as it made every lie she told sink deep into her chest. A weight that was slowly bringing her down. 

“Well you will have to show me all the good spots to find them. I’ve been working on this choker for Lo’ak but it’s missing something. Can’t quite tell what yet.” Tsireya let out a light huff in frustration, her voice somehow still carrying the soothing softness that always had Lo’ak melting. 

Tuk had always found Tsireya’s gentle nature so calming. She was the best person to rant to with problems or concerns. Her large blue eyes had a great capacity to hold genuine empathy. It astonished the younger Sully girl. And yet it was just another reason that keeping her romance with Teeysal a secret was incredibly difficult around her sister in law. 

“Even if there is, you know he won’t notice. He’ll just be happy it's from you. Lo’ak doesn’t know much else when it comes to attire.” Tuk scoffed teasingly. Tsireya’s soft laugh flitted across the wind as she continued to tightly incorporate the strung shells into the intricate dark braids that finally flowed down into loose waves. 

“Now, is that any way to talk about the mighty warrior that is bringing home this bad boy for dinner?” Lo’ak appeared at the mouth of the marui, hands proudly holding up the dangling fish half his size.  Tsireya affectionately awed at the size, congratulating her mate on the impressive catch but Tuk’s mind was elsewhere. Lo’ak home meant Teeysal would be back with the hunting party too. Tsireya’s absence of handling indicated her hair was completed. 

“You look so pretty, Tuk.” Tsireya cooed, helping Lo’ak to set down the fish in preparation. 

Tuk ran her fingers through the hair, a small giggle lacing her features as she beamed at the compliment. The change in hairstyle made her feel rejuvenated after days of squirming on the marui floor half awake. The thick braids leading into the free flowing waves reminded her of Tsireya’s own hairstyle and the comparison made her beam with a new confidence. The confidence of a woman, not some silly little child. 

“Thanks ‘Reya.” Tuk pulled the older na’vi into an eager hug before gathering her stuff to dart off. Lo’ak shot his sister a strange look at her hurried actions. 

“What? That’s it? You’re not even going to stay for the best meal of your life, baby sis?” Lo’ak crossed his arms, feigning a stern look that was sure to be imitating Jake. Tuk giggled at the hidden joke but shook her head regardless. Her window of opportunity was quickly closing.

“I can’t leave mom and dad alone for dinner.” 

“They’ve had you for five days, surely they will survive your absence for one night.” Already feeling caught in a lie, Tuk avoided her brother’s merciless gaze. She fought the urge to nervously fiddle with hanging beads on her loincloth. Still, the electric excitement prompting her to see Teeysal overcame the small trace of guilt at lying to her brother. There was no other way she would get to see the handsome Metkayina male otherwise. 

“You know how Dad gets.” She shrugged while subconsciously playing with the threads of her new hairstyle. It seemed that the excuse was enough to appease Lo’ak as he rolled his eyes and gave her a knowing look. He did in fact know how protective and even selfish Jake could be when it came to his littlest baby girl. Tsireya was already preparing the fish diligently at the corner of the marui. 

“Yeah yeah, I know. Fine, get out of here.” Lo’ak snorted with a playful shoo of his hand. Tuk wasted no time, quickly bidding them goodbye before running across the wovens paths of the village. The moon was inching closer and closer to overcoming the shine of the sun, luring the clan members to start settling in for dinner and tucking their small Na’vi into bed. 

Her eyes jumbled back and forth across the crowds of approaching figures to smoothly slot herself around or in between them to get by. She let out small squeaks and apologies at the appropriate times but never slowed down her pace. Tuk’s excitement only grew when she was able to see the last stragglers from the hunting party up ahead. She was just about to sprint haphazardly towards them and track down the handsome male when her father’s voice broke through her focus. 

“Tuktirey!” Jake called from her right, pulling in a small canoe with one hand. “Where you going, babygirl?” Jake questioned with a slight undertone of fond laughter. He flicked the thick dreadlocks out of his face to see his daughter better, canoe landing on the sand with a hollow thump.

“Hey Dad, just going out one more time before dinner.” Tuk despised how easy the white lie flowed from her lips. The distant chatter and laughter from the hunting party prickled at her urge to glance over and find Teeysal. Still, she wiggled her toes and focused on paying attention to her father. Jake Sully was a smart man that knew how to pick up on clues. His time in the military had only increased his awareness of the world around him and the importance of picking out tiny details. This attribute had always been one of her favorite things about her father, showing how useful it had been by sharing endless war stories. Now, however, it was becoming a nuisance. 

“Yeah I know you’re anxious to get back out there, kid.” Jake chuckled before gracefully heaving his body up onto the woven pathway. His smile held tender kindness and affection as he looked down on his maturing daughter. “How about I take you out? It’s been a while since the two of us have had some real daddy daughter time together.”

Tuk gulped. The sincere crinkles of his smile coiled her guilt in her gut, but she had been looking forward to this all day. Teeysal had his own responsibilities to tend to and there were few times that Tuk’s time left unsupervised aligned with his leisure hours. She knew it had been a while since her father and her had gone out like usual, but she was growing up and Tuk didn’t always have the same cravings as she used to. 

“I’ll tell you whatever consolation story you’d like to hear.” Jake had a plethora of stories he had produced and related to the stars for his children. There was of course his own story of Earth and how he had come from a star, but further stories consisted of simple fairy tales he had adapted and edited for his kids. Out of all his children, Tuk clung on to the stories the most. There was a whole year where she had Jake tell her the mashup of Rapunzel and Top Gun he had created over and over again. For a story that the ex marine had made up on the fly it became difficult at times to repeat perfectly, especially when his small daughter had memorized every detail. Whenever he would go off script or forget one of the lines, she was known to jump in to correct her daddy. 

Tuk’s sharp teeth nippled at the inside of her bottom lip. The last thing she wanted was to disappoint her father but there would be other nights she could listen to his far fetched stories. 

“Actually Daddy, I kind of was looking forward to going out alone. To be with my thoughts and all that.” Tuk’s soft voice was barely heard above the coastal wind. Jake’s smile wavered and his brow pulled together, accenting his creased forehead. She knew that look. The reminiscing look of a parent that was no longer needed by their child. Being the last one to leave the nest had gotten her very familiar with these poorly masked solemn expressions. 

“Right, of course.” Jake cleared his throat before nodding firmly. The ex marine naturally pieced together a touch front. For a man of such gruff demeanor, he failed horribly at maintaining that composure when it came to his daughters. 

Tuk’s heart ached at the sight of her father, Toruk Makto, softening in front of her eyes. 

“But we will have to go on a different night for sure!” Tuk piped up, grabbing her father’s wide wrist between her dainty hands. “It’s been ages since I’ve heard about the lost princess pilot, afterall.” Her father’s lips quirked up at the sound of her excitement, no matter how feigned it may have been. 

“Of course, babygirl. Whenever you want.” He chuckled before placing an endearing kiss along her stripped temple. Her muscles relaxed at the reassuring gesture. “But make sure to be back before dinner. I don’t want you out too far past eclipse.” 

 She beamed up at him, giving her promise before turning to dart off again. 

“Goodbye Daddy!” Tuk called behind her, hoping the remedial nickname would soften the blow. 

Her father’s wellbeing slipped to the back of her mind smoothly as she refocused on searching for Teeysal amongst the other hunters. Luckily, he was around the bend away from the potential onlooking gazes of Jake and nosy clan members. Teeysal’s cerulean orbs lit up instantly at the sight of Tuk. She took this as her sign to bound over, toppling into his arms. His toned arms pulled her body against his chest tightly and spun them around. Her shorter legs swung out into the air as soft giggles wracked her lungs. 

Teeysal smelt like fish and saltwater but it was an essence that the Sully girl had come to positively associate with his presence. She marveled at how easily he lifted her and twirled their bodies in place, her stomach doing somersaults at the thrilling momentum. The loose curls that had escaped his bun tickled the apples of her cheeks as she pressed her face close to his broad shoulder. 

“There you are.” Teeysal warmly smiled after setting the small Omatikaya girl back on her feet. His broad hand cupped the side of her face sweetly causing Tuk’s heart to skip a beat. 

Ayte cleared his throat, awkwardly third wheeling the interaction. Tuk’s head finally snapped to the side to notice the other Metkayina male. A light blush painted her cheeks when she realized they were in fact not alone, she sent him a gracious smile regardless.

“Hi Ayte.” 

 She tried to detach herself from Teeysal, worried that their cover was completely blown. Tuk went to wiggle her way out of his strong arms and give Ayte a hug as a cover but Teeysal only held her tighter.

“It’s ok. He knows.” He chuckled into her ear while enfolding her in an embrace from behind. Ayte noded and rolled his eyes to confirm the claim. Her cheeks remained a glimmer of pink but she relaxed in his arms at the information. Teeysal’s newfound confidence had come with more frequent physical displays of affection. Small moments that the pair managed to steal away throughout the day were always accompanied with tender forehead kisses and prolonged hugs that allowed her to seep into the warmth of his chest. 

This uncharted territory spun her nerves into a tumbled mess but Tuk couldn’t be more delighted. This intimacy had always been something she had observed in others and yearned for herself. Even as a small child she beamed whenever Jake tucked his head into the curve of Neytiri’s neck or intertwined their mismatched hands together fondly. 

“Yeah and I know when I’m being a third wheel.” Ayte grumbled but there was an undertone of friendly mirth in his tone. A small smile twitched at the corners of his mouth whenever he saw that dumb dopey grin on his friend’s face. “I’ll bring these back myself. See you later, lovebirds.” He chuckled, dragging off the baskets of fish. 

Teeysal and Tuk called out their respective thank yous while watching the male disappear into the village. It was then that Tuk felt the soft sensation of fingers tracing over her new woven hairstyle and embedded shells. 

“Wow, look at you. They are so much prettier on you.” Teeysal marveled reverently. She couldn’t contain her grin at the compliment. She had been itching to show him since Tsireya had put the first shell in her hair. Warmth flooded along her skin, sending pleasant tingles down to her toes. 

“You like it?” Tuk asked although she already knew that answer as he gently guided her to do a twirl for him. Their eyes met and it was difficult to keep the gleeful giggle from her throat.

“Very much.” Teeysal’s warm voice filled her to the brim with happiness. He always seemed to hold a special kindness in his aurora, especially when around her. Those ocean blue eyes could easily put her into a trance, so crystalline and pure. Every glimmer of emotion visible. 

“Come, come. I want to show you something.” He eagerly grabbed her hand and dragged the girl towards the nearest ilu. The covering moon had begun to signal the beginnings of bioluminescence, bringing a dim glow to fauna and coral underneath the surface. The two didn’t bother finding another ilu, instead opting to ride together. 

Tuk wrapped her arms around his shoulders tightly and blushed as Teeysal hooked one hand around the back of her thigh before they dove into the water. An instant calm settled around her as they were encompassed by the pressure and weight of the ocean. Here in the place where the outside world was deafened and the boy she cared for held her tenderly, Tuk couldn’t think of anywhere else she would rather be. 

They soared along the reef, diving in and out of curved structures of corals and sponges. The sizzle of sloshing water tickled at her flicking ears. Everything was in its full glow, bursting the sealife into radiant colors that danced through the water medium.  No matter how many times Tuk saw it, she never tired of marveling over the beauty of the ocean, especially during eclipse. The sea was a different place entirely, feeling like another planet she could step into within a moment's notice. 

The two na’vi only had to breach for air a few times before reaching the desired spot. 

“Deep breath.” Teeysal instructed. She filled her lungs slowly until they had expanded to the point of pushing against her ribs. The ilu dragged them down towards the substrate until Teeysal released him and motioned for Tuk to follow. Curiosity rose like a swell within her. Whatever it was, Teeysal could not keep the giddy grin from his face. 

She mimicked his smooth undulations, following after him. Despite the commotion of marine life around them, Tuk found herself swerving to catch glimpses of those loose curls that had escaped his bun and were flowing with the water. She had always been fascinated with the Metkayina curly hair, having little representation of its texture in the Omatikaya clan. However, for biased reasons, she believed Teeysal’s hair to be the prettiest. The soft strands were an enchanting contrast to his sharp jaw and high cheekbones. It seemed that Teeysal's entire form was a walking contradiction. Sharp lines and features mixed with gentle eyes and a caring smile. 

Teeysal finally signaled for them to stop, each holding on to the nearest coral structure. Her golden globes swept across the area, in search of the wonder he promised to show. A large hand on her shoulder caught her attention once more. Teeysal pointed up ahead under the curve of a concave rock. It was then that she finally spotted what had him all excited.

Intelligent eyes peeked out from under the rock. The octopus was easy to miss in the haze of marine activity, perhaps its purpose in seeking refuge in the tight space. However, once it had deemed the surroundings clear it began to stretch forth its tentacles in differing directions. Its motions were fluid and controlled as the creature crept from the dark hole. 

It had not been her first time seeing an octopus but her wonder was still ablaze. They were such simple yet intelligent creatures, making them hard to catch on most days. She was satisfied with this surprise, turning to Teeysal and giving him a wide grin that expressed this sentiment. He seemed to almost chuckle underwater, shaking his head softly. 

‘Keep watching.’ He signed.

With a perplexed expression she obeyed. The octopus was out from the makeshift cave and for the first time she spotted a glimpse of something else behind it. More textured skin peeking out from behind different tentacles. Tuk squinted in concentration. Small eyes peeked out from behind the octopus. Their black dots were barely noticeable as the tiny creatures emerged. A plethora of baby octopus blanketed the backside of the mother. 

Were she not already holding her breath, Tuk knew it would have caught at the sight. The juvenile creatures were so small, almost reminding her of the glowing fauna that laced their reefs. They followed the mother, finding refuge and protection between her outreaching limbs. Her heart warmed at the sight. Just like a Na’vi mother sings lullabies and tucks her children away in the marui for the night, this mother had found a safe home for her children underneath the rock. In moments like these, Tuk couldn’t help but recognize how similar they truly were to every other living creature on Pandora. They were all brothers and sisters, looked after by the Great Mother. 

With diligent caution, Tuk reached out one hand, inching closer and closer to one of the tentacles. The mother seemed to watch her for a moment, deciding whether or not the imposing digits were a threat. One tentacle furled out and immediately suctioned to Tuk’s hand. Gleeful excitement raced through her. The texture from the tentacle almost tickled. She was always surprised by how strong their suction truly was. 

Tuktirey turned to the Metkayina boy in victory to show him the accomplishment, but he wasn’t looking at the octopus. Those blue orbs intensely watched her reaction with a fond demeanor. Accentuated by the sparkling freckles around the creases, Tuk couldn’t help but stare back into Teeysal’s eyes. She was oblivious to the retracting arm of the mother octopus, even missing as the mother and juveniles swam away. 

They drew closer, pulled by the intensity of the other’s gaze. However, the depleting supply of oxygen in Tuk’s lungs shattered the moment. She was tempted to ignore the strain in favor of playing out this scenario, but the harsh contraction of her muscles told her there was no choice. Teeysal was quick to understand what was going on.

Grabbed by the wrist she was pulled through the water quickly. Teeysal’s thicker paddle-like tail swished with his body in a pattern that quickly had them gaining speed. The beat of her heart obediently slowed to the soothing thoughts that floated through her mind. Whenever Tuk would feel inclined to take a breath she had learned that distracting her mind with sweet melodies and memories overpowered the urge. 

Teeysal successfully dragged her through the water and up into the bulbous plant, finally giving them each access to an air pocket. Oxygen surged through Tuk’s lungs in an audible gasp, but her lips still curved into a smile. The bioluminescence of the plant painted their skin a cool shade of green as they caught their breath. 

“Tuk! Are you alright?” Teeysal’s worried tone was only white noise to the joy that tickled at her heart. 

“That was so amazing! Did you see all the little babies?!” Tuk words tattered on the edge of a squeal as she beamed back at the Metkayina boy. His troubled expression softened into that of fond chastisement as he fought back a laugh. 

“Yes I saw them Tuk, but-”

“They were so tiny! Barely bigger than megafauna and yet they still have these beautiful little eyes!” The excited shrill echoed along the walls of the bulbous flower, magnifying her voice. Tuk fondly babbled about the beautiful creatures till her lungs were fighting for oxygen again. It was then that Teeysal finally deemed it time to step in. 

“Tuktirey!” He urgently caught her attention, wide golden eyes staring back at him. “You can’t scare me like that. If you need to breathe you have to tell me.” Although stern, his voice carried a vulnerable tremble to it, showing how much he truly cared for her wellbeing. 

“Sorry.” She mumbled, biting her bottom lip. 

His ears dropped back and a heavy sigh left his lips. 

“It’s my job to take care of you. I don’t know what I would do if something were to happen to you.” Despite the sad words, Tuk’s heart raced as she saw the pure adoration and concern gleaming in his ocean eyes. Butterflies swarmed her stomach as she saw that vulnerability. 

Tuk was used to having people watch over her, whether or not she asked for it. Her father and brothers in particular were constantly protecting her from any harm that could come her way. She was used to watching them scold her for reckless behavior or circle her into their arms in order to shield the small girl from potential threats. On more than one occasion she would roll her eyes at the dramatics and pout at their concern that sometimes felt like a leash. 

However, with Teeysal, it was different.

His protective nature wrapped her in a warm glow, tinting her cheeks pink. A new feeling of admiration settled over her. It was the same feeling that surfaced when she would watch him carry nets full of fish or drag a canoe along the sandy shore. He was a provider and protector and Tuk was more than happy to allow him to fulfill that role in her life. 

“You do take care of me.” Her slim finger cupped his cheek softly. Teeysal relaxed under the touch, apprehension sizzling away with the current. She swam closer and was quickly received in his loose embrace. A strong arm wrapped around her waist, effortlessly helping her stay above the water’s surface. With their bodies so close to one another, Tuk swore he must’ve felt the charged prickle along her skin and the pounding of her heart. Still, she didn’t shrivel away or try to hide it. 

Idle dark blue fingers thumbed at his loose baby hairs, bringing the curve of a smile to his lips. Lips that suddenly caught her attention, her gaze heavy and reluctant to pull away from them. The heat of his own stare bore along her flushed face. When yellow finally met blue again Tuk suddenly realized how close they were. They shared the same warm breath. 

“Hold still.” Teeysal whispered softly. 

Anticipation climbed higher, yanking at her raging heart, but Tuk obeyed as he leaned in even closer. Their noses brushed and the gentle touch had the Sully girl’s eyes fluttering closed. Soft lips met her own, a tender and gentle caress. Tendrils of electricity rippled underneath her skin, breath caught in her throat as he kissed her. She followed his lead, tentatively moving her lips against his. 

It was short, barely more than a few seconds but it still left Tuktirey feeling breathless. Teeysal let out a slight exhale, corners of his lips perking up into a crooked smile. The sight made shuffle closer into his embrace, hands resting on his broad shoulders. 

Tucked away deep in the sea, they had found a sanctuary away from protective fathers and courting expectations. Tuk yearned to stay there forever. Safe and warm in his arms. Her first kiss forever on Teeysal’s lips. 

Tuk stood on the ilu, hands gripping Teeysal’s shoulders to steady herself as they glided along the water’s surface. Teeysal’s lips pulled back into a dumb grin, revealing his sharp canines as Tuk’s carefree singing continued. Her sweet melody held no trace of shame, openly singing for him as they neared the village. Occasionally he would reach back and fondly squeeze one of the hands placed on his shoulders. This action was always met with a slight giggle to intermix with her singing. 

The stars were vibrant, the ocean warm, and the girl of his dreams clinging to him while filling the air with unbashful melodies. Teeysal was confident this was the best night of his life. His heart felt like it could burst at any minute as he recalled the kiss they shared. The soft movement of her hesitant lips against his own. The trust she showed while easily fitting herself into his awaiting arms. He was sure there was no Na’vi happier than him tonight. 

“Your turn, you sing.” Tuk insisted suddenly. Teeysal immediately shook his head. 

“I’m not much of a singer, yawne.” The pet name flowed from his lips effortlessly and Teeysal wondered if she noticed the endearing term as much as he did. 

“That is no excuse.” Tuk giggled mischievously. “I demand you sing.” She feigned a stern tone, using the same unyielding timber her father possessed when telling them off. However, it was anything but intimidating as her light voice strained to deepen into something unnatural. Teeysal’s chest heaved as he laughed freely. 

“Oh really? You demand it, huh?” His neck strained to look up at the Sully girl who still pouted firmly in efforts to exert her power. “And what are you going to do if I don’t, hm?”

“I will…take you down.” Her confidence was slowly slipping between the cracks but Tuk was not one to back down from a game. Even growing up she found herself wrestling with her much older brothers only for them to pin her down over and over again and tickle her till she giggled out pleas for mercy. 

She squealed as Teeysal suddenly reached back and flipped her body over his shoulder. She landed messily on his lap. He latched one arm around her waist before she could try and wiggle away. A playful triumph glimmered along his blue orbs, smirking down at her.

“You sure about that, yawne?” A gleeful chuckle slipped into his tone causing the infectious laughter to yank at Tuk’s own amusement till she was fighting back the urge to giggle. Tuk lunged for him. Pushing his broad shoulder back until he was laying on the ilu. They giggled and shot back firing challenges as they wrestled one another. 

The two Na’vi were oblivious to the closing distance between them and shore, too enraptured with overpowering the other. 

A sharp whistle cut through the night air. 

Limbs entangled in the middle of Teeysal pinning her down against the ilu’s back, they strained to see where the noise came from. 

“Tuktirey!” Jake’s voice shocked the two enough for Teeysal to loosen his grip causing Tuk to unintentionally slide off into the water. She barely let out a squeak before hitting the water. Tuk quickly resurfaced only to spot her father’s ominous figure looming in the moonlight on the beach. Lo’ak sat on a rock beside him, watching Teeysal with a frown. 

“Out of the water. Now.” The deep rumble of his voice effectively prompted her to swim frantically towards the shore. Once back on the sand, Lo’ak helped her up and used his body to block her from Teeysal’s view. The Metkayina boy was already washing up onto shore, hands raised and ready to explain the situation. 

The submissive approach didn’t seem to matter as Jake’s jaw clenched in anger. His rigid posture and heavy breathing was a clear indication to the boy that he had pushed the male too far. Lo’ak’s beady eyes followed his frame while simultaneously stopping Tuk from getting past him to see what was happening. 

“Dad, it’s not what it looks like!” Tuk’s soft voice drawed out in desperation. Jake turned his attention to his youngest daughter with a raised eyebrow. The youngest Sully tried not to shrink under his domineering gaze. 

“You and I will talk about this later.” The words might have well been a threat the way it made Tuk’s stomach do a summersault. Teesyal could just barely make out the shift of her ears pinning backwards. His first instinct was to gather the pouting girl in his arms and find a way to bring her out of the spotlight but Jake was already turning back on him. 

“You seem to have no respect for me or my family, kid.” Jake glowered down at the younger male with a heated intensity, tail swishing violently behind him. 

“No sir, that’s not i-”

“Did I or did I not tell you to stay away from my daughter?” Jake’s clipped tone hung heavy in the air. Tuk was now pushing at Lo’ak to try and get past but her efforts were in vain. 

“You did.” There was no way to lie himself out of this one. Still, Teeysal refused to show any more weakness than was necessary. His blue eyes held Jake’s stony glare with an unyielding determination. This strength went unappreciated as Jake let out an angry huff. 

“Have you or have you not been sneaking off with her behind my back?” 

Teeysal’s heart skipped a beat and the back of his neck broke out into a sweat. How did he know? They had been careful, perhaps not perfect but there was never anyone around when the two set off on their adventures. Tuk peeked over Lo’ak’s shoulder, standing on her tiptoes, and their eyes caught. It was clear she too was confused as to where they had gone wrong. 

But then his eyes grazed past Lo’ak’s expression. 

There was an air of cockiness surrounding that devious smirk and within an instant Teeysal knew who had figured it out. 

“You’re not as sneaky as you think, cuz.” Lo’ak scoffed. 

Jake no longer needed a verbal confirmation. A guilty composure was enough to validate his concerns. A protective wave of emotion washed over him until he was holding back a growl deep within his chest. This boy had the audacity to sneak his babygirl away without permission to God knows where. There was no telling what could have occurred between them. How many ways she could have gotten hurt with Jake none the wiser. 

Worst of all, this boy could hurt her in a way no one else could. 

A broken heart is one of the few things a father’s embrace and protection can not fix.

He knew it was time to intervene before things went any further. 

“I don’t like repeating myself, boy. I warned you once to stay away and now here we are again.” Jake’s gravelly voice deepened into an ominous snarl. Teeysal felt his mouth run dry, trepidation dancing along his nerves till his ears were cautiously flicking against his curly hair. Retaining eye contact had become a true struggle, Lo’ak’s unfaltering attention only added to its difficulty. 

“Daddy it was my fault.” Tuk pleaded, but Jake only held a hand out to signal her silence, his eyes never straying from the Metkayina boy before him. Tuk knew better than to push her father when he entered military mode. 

“I’m only going to say this one more time.” Jake’ jaw clenched roughly like hard steel. “Stay away from my family or there will be consequences.” Teeysal’s gaze finally lost the battle and drifted to stare down at the damp sand. A few stray curls curtained over his temple, ear pinned securely against his head. 

“Do I make myself clear, boy?”

“Yes sir.” He muttered out the phrase half heartedly but Jake didn’t seem to care, he was already ushering Tuk and Lo’ak back up the expanse of the long beach. Reluctantly following with Lo’ak’s arm over her shoulder, Tuk managed one last glance back at the Metkayina male.

Teeysal tried to quirk the corners of his lips upwards into a reassuring smile but he knew the action looked forced. Even with the increasing distance he could see the clear glimmer of unshed tears hazing over her beautiful eyes. He vowed to not have this sigh of her distraught face be their parting image. Call it foolish hope or unyielding stubbornness, but Teeysal was determined to earn his place by her side. 

This time, he would do it the right way. 

Taglist: @valentique​  @creepytoes88​

[nrdmssgs]

The dropouts (part 4)

Masterlist

Part 1 I Part 2 I Part 3 I you are here

Genre: Angst, hurt/comfort, action, slow burn.

Pairing: Olga 'Zhar' Samoilova (OC) x Nikto

Summary: Some things you teach Chimeras, other things - they teach you.

TWs: This whole series will be revolving around a person living with an acute dissociative disorder. Swearing.

AN: I am very happy to welcome my dear Phayvanh "Nak" Sotsvahn She belongs to @vasyandii who helped me make this chapter happen.

This seemed like a good idea until Nikto actually turned it into reality. It was quiet in his head while he planned the class and arranged his visit to the Chimera base, the voices didn't awake even on his way there…

But now as he's sitting in a room gradually filling with Chimera soldiers, reading a list of names again and again, skipping a few crossed out ones, they come to life.

“What if she comes?”

“She's going to ruin everything.”

“If she dares, I will ruin her.”

“No, you won't. Too soft. Weak.”

“Let us get closer to her. Let us look. Touch. Break.”

“Vsye v poryadke?*” Nikto flinches, noticing a short figure beside his chair. He raises his eyes on a young woman. 

To Nikto she looks slight, almost delicate. But an air of determination, he can almost taste around her, seems at odds with her youthful appearance. He feels a pang of something akin to sorrow mixed with fury. She looks almost too young to be here, too young to have been thrust into the harsh realities of war.

Forcing himself to look away, he returns to the list in his hand and finds a name that might suit her.

“Ty Phay- Fai- Fai-vahn, da?*” He tries his best to not butcher the unfamiliar name.

The woman freezes for a moment, her body tenses, posture grows defensive. She reaches out, pulls the sheet of paper out of his hands and writes ‘П-А-Й-В-А-Н’ next to her name.

“Ne pytaisya po-anliyski chitat`. Vot tak nado.*” She hands the paper back.

Nikto thanks her awkwardly. Chimeras seem to know more about him, at least they all figured out what language is his native even before he opened his mouth.

“Think the mask will keep you from losing your face?”

“Her name is crossed out, but she will come just to laugh at us.”

“At least this way she might notice us.”

“Shut up,” he hisses, seemingly quiet, but all the noises die in the class in the very same moment. 

Soldiers look at him with the silent intensity, and the last bits of confidence leave Nikto. He knows how to command, how to force in the worst case scenario, but this is new. Here he has to tell his story, not missing a single detail, and make sure they remember him well. He might have started this all just to meet Zhar again, but Nikto is damn serious about this training. If it helps to make their lives longer, if it helps her in any way…

“I'm Nikto. I will teach you some major survival tactics in prolonged tortures. We will have this evening and tomorrow to get things done.” He decides to skip the embarrassing part where he explains, that the ‘shut up’ wasn't meant for the auditorium. 

Phayvanh opens a notebook with such a mundane expression, as if they hear such lectures on a daily basis. Next to her sits Krueger with his arms crossed on the chest. At the base, he abandons his tactical net, so nothing masks his crooked smirk, when he raises a hand and asks without waiting.

“What makes you the expert?”

Nikto stops roaming through his notes and looks up. His gaze seems to make even Krueger uncomfortable, so he clarifies the question.

“Each of us here has some experience in… interrogations. Some more, others - less. What gets you to be the guy before the white board.”

Nikto huffs. “My story is not that fun to hear.”

Or to tell.

“Come on, man. This is not a Sunday book club with little tea cups and cucumber sandwiches.”  Phayvanh punches Krueger under the desk, but he goes on. “Show off, brag, shine a little, friend. How much they held you? A week? Two?”

Niktos eyes harden. Something told him, this might end this way, yet, he hoped, it wouldn't. He tells himself, it's not about his vulnerability - it's about the stakes, he will be talking about, as his fingers reach the first strap of his mask. The stakes they will have to be ready to make after these classes. He takes the last look at the room and makes sure once again, she is nowhere around. 

With slow, deliberate movements, Nikto unfastens the mask. He hesitates for a moment, then pulls it away, revealing the full extent of his injuries.

There are no shocked gasps heard - only a lone whistle and someones muffled ‘fuck’ reaching his ears. Because what he shows them is not just a few scratches - it is a battlefield and a grave. His skin is heavily scarred and burnt, twisted in unnatural ways. Half of his left ear is missing, and his cheek bears deep, jagged lines. His face is enough to make some people run in fear. Not from him, but from the amount of pain one can survive. “The living will envy the dead” - that's what his face is about.

“Two thousand forty-one hour. Eighty-five days.” His tone is flat, calm even. It's not his place to share his pain - only his expertise. 

***

Their class goes surprisingly well. Chimera soldiers are catching every word leaving his mouth and ask smart questions, that sometimes leave Nikto himself wondering if there is a right answer to them. Although he hasn't that much of a theory teaching experience, his first try at it feels nice, kind of empowering even.

Nikto lets the feeling sink in after everybody else leave the room. Usually his guts would tell him otherwise, but right now sitting here in peace without half of his gear and completely unarmed feels ok. For some weird reason, nothing seems to be able to bother him. 

He fixes the straps of his mask, making sure it sits firmly again, and leaves to an already empty hall. Distant echoes of chatter and ambient noises barely reach this place. Without any thought behind it, Nikto just turns left and walks to see if this road leads him anywhere but an endless row of closed doors. He isn't trying to be nosey - just wants to give his legs a stretch.

To his relief, there is in fact one door open wide. It must their gymnasium - a dimly lit hall, the fading daylight casting long shadows across the room. The faint sound of punching and the rhythmic thuds of kicks echoes softly, punctuating the otherwise still air. In the far corner, illuminated by a solitary overhead light, Zhar is training with fierce determination.

Nikto doesn't know much about art, doesn't really care about all these museums, pictures, statues. He is as far from this world as it is possible. He thought, his knife collection is the nearest thing to art, he ever saw. But right now this changes forever deep in his mind. Because he sees art.

She moves with a fluid grace, each punch and kick precise and powerful. Despite not so young age, her form is impeccable, her movements a blend of strength and agility. The dummy in front of her bears the brunt of her relentless assault, swaying with each impact.

“How is this possible?”

“How is she possible?”

Nikto ignores awakening voices and watches, captivated by the raw power and beauty of her movements. He had seen many soldiers train, but there is something different about her - something that set her apart. And Nikto feels that just one more minutes needs to pass, and he will understand, what's the secret behind her movements.

“Stop ogling my lieutenant.” Nikto quickly turns back and meets Nikolais smirk. “Stop ogling my lieutenant and go talk to her.”

Before Nikto has time to react - Chimeras leader pushes him forward.

“I was looking for where you guys eat. Just the wrong door,” grumbles Nikto quietly. 

“Mhm, of course,” hisses Nikolai and giving him a final push adds louder “Olya, look who came to visit you!”

Dammit. So much for trying to not be a creep.

“Is it my little-” She turns back to them and a wide bright smile on her face weakens. “Oh. Hi.”

He still mentally disputes on turning back and leaving, but Olga steps away from the dummy and reaches out to him, so Nikto comes closer not wanting to make her wait awkwardly for a handshake.

“Nice having you here. Sorry for skipping your class, my last meeting ended way too late.” A touch of her fingers against his exposed skin echoes down his spine. Nikto tries to shake the feeling off with a joke.

“Nah, this won't be on the test anyways.”

She chuckles. Nikto saw her ‘work smile’ and he genuinely hated it. Too plastic, too fake for his tastes. But this is completely different - Olga somehow makes the whole room brighter and more safe. A subtle ornament or crinkles at the corners of her eyes, two soft dimples, the way she throws her head slightly back - this all feels precious, important. He drinks in the sight of her as she returns to the dummy.

“I want to work on one last thing here and then I'll go show you our common room, ok?”

She wants him to stay here? She will feel safe?

“No objections, lt.” Nikto leans against the wall watching her readjusting the dummy.

Zhar loosens a few fastenings around the dummies base and tries to move the main construction up, but it remains steady. She grunts and tries again, but nothing changes.

“Andrei, mat` tvoyu, ne nachinai!*” Nikto flinches at these words and looks at Olga.

Not entirely sure if he even got what she said, Zhar adds embarrassedly ‘I was talking to the dummy, we call him Andrei. This thing’s seen better days’.

“Then we happen to share a name.”

Nikto approaches and tries to help her readjust an old cranky construction, but the outcome is the same. "How about you train on me instead?" he suggests. "I'm taller, and I can take a hit."

“I don't enjoy the concept of treating a fellow soldier like a punching doll.” Olga frowns and shakes her head.

“Nah, you won't even notice the difference. Same name, same attitude. Besides, it's not like you can hurt me," he adds with a short chuckle. This last phrase may have been uncalled-for, because the lieutenant moves away from him a couple of steps and takes a fighting stance.

“My rear hook is getting worse lately. Need to work on it.” Zhar takes a deep breath, centering herself. “But I'm not beating a guy who doesn't defend himself. Thought, you remembered it after the first time we met.”

Ouch. So she does bite back when provoked. 

Nikto raises his hands slightly, ready to block if needed. “Whenever you’re ready,” he says, his tone seemingly flat despite the voices forming a good dozen of less neutral reactions.

Her eyes lock onto him, determination flaring anew. She begins with a series of high punches, aiming for his shoulder level. He blocks and parries, his movements fluid and controlled. She quickly adjusts her stance, her confidence growing as she finds her rhythm.

Her kicks come faster now, more precise. Yet Nikto notices the slightest pause in the middle of her rear hooks, just as she claimed. 

“You’ve got quite a punch,” he notices. “Keep going, don’t hold back. A bit faster so that I can't catch you in the middle of it.”

She pushes herself harder, her strikes becoming more aggressive, but there's still this little slowdown in the middle of her blow. And Nikto uses his reaction to demonstrate it. He meets her hand in the midflight and pulls her forward, causing Olga to lose her stance and improvise. She opts for another blow, Nikto feels that he's lacking time to keep pulling her and evade the punch at the same time, but still highers the other hand to defend himself.

It all happens so fast, he doesn't realize at first, what exactly he's done. His hand slides forward, and she hisses, when his wrist grazes against her head. He lowers his hand, but for some reason she follows it, falling on her knees before him. 

Nikto freezes in certainty for a moment and descends after her. Zhar reaches out to his hand and tries to pull it slowly away, and he finally sees it. The massive clasp on the sleeve of his suit got tangled in her hair, causing pain with every movement.

He curses and immediately starts untangling it.

“I'm sorry, I didn't think, fu-”

“The hell are you sorry about?” Olga cuts him off, and he notices that there is no fear or pain in her face expression - only calm satisfaction. “I came unprepared - I had it coming. Good fight, soldier.”

As he helps her to untangle the last strands of hair and stand up, it slowly gets to him: while he is here - she treats him as one of her own, and that includes celebrating his victories, even those that might feel undeserved. This is a strange feeling, but he likes it: to not just be here, but to belong, stay a part of something, she pours her heart into. 

***

It's not every day that Chimeras second in command walks in the common room with a sweet smile and without someone torturing her on the phone. Even on a more rare occasion does she stay in the dining area and not just grab whatever is left to eat and retreats back to her office. So while everybody tries to not be too obvious with their interest - they still can't hold back occasional long gazes. At some point, Krueger even suggest that he goes to join Zhar and their guest instructor, but Phayvanh grips his shoulder and pulls him back.

“You sit here and don't spoil anything.” Naks voice is cold and commanding.

***

After the dinner, Zhar leads Nikto through the living section of the base. Sometimes she excuses for the state of wall paint or an old door. ‘We are moving soon, so we didn't do any renovations here lately,’ she tells as if Nikto came here to inspect the state of their spaces.

“I figured, you would like a room with more privacy. No shared bathrooms, a more quiet part of the building, and so on. Due to the…” she draws a circle in the air in front of her face and Nikto guesses that she is talking about his mask. 

Usually this detail only causes annoying questions. But with her everything is different. No jokes, no unpleasant attention - just an attempt to help.

“Thank you,” he exhales as Olga unlocks the door.

At first glance, Nikto realizes that this is someone's room. Papers on the desk, a jacket hanging on the back of a chair, something large and shapeless lying in the far corner of the bed - it turns out to be a shark plushie, all this suggests that someone already lives here.

"Will the tenant mind?" He freezes on the threshold, looking at her with disbelief.

“This is my room,” she answers innocently.

“But what about...” Nikto points at the bed.

"Oh no, there was only one bed, what should they do!” Zhar sighs in an exaggerated, theatrical manner and cracks laughing. “Don't worry - I'm not going to sleep today anyway. I'm leaving in the night, need to pay a visit to our new base. Until then - I have a ton of work waiting for me in my office anyway.”

“But-”

“Nikto, enough ‘buts’. Our free rooms serve as storages now, I can't materialize an extra bed for you out of thin air, and I'm not letting our guest sleep on a floor.” She pats his shoulder and pushes him deeper in the room. “If you need anything - my office is three doors down the hall.”

She doesn't leave him any time to react, closing the door.

*Vsye v poryadke? - (here and further Russian) Everything's alright?

*Ty Phay- Fai- Fai-vahn, da? - Youre Phay- Fai- Fai-vahn, yes?

*Ne pytaisya po-anliyski chitat`. Vot tak nado. - Dont try to read it as if was in English. Heres the way to pronounce it

*Andrei, mat` tvoyu, ne nachinai! - Andrei, for fucks sake, don't start this now!

[theewokingdead]

The Princess Bride

Pairing: Benny Miller x wife!Reader (1st Person POV; Benergy Universe) Summary: Benny always breaks into random movie references when you least expect it. Word Count: 800+ Rating: No rating but my blog is 18+ Warnings: Includes lines from The Princess Bride Notes: My husband said the Mosquito Montoya line today and it sparked a fic idea. As always, Benergy is a collection of one-shots so this can be read without having read anything else. ***If you enjoy this fic, please tell Tumblr this should be shared with others by reblogging! That's what the algorithm loves (it's how it works here. I don't make the rules!)***

Masterlist Benergy Masterlist

Having grown up in Colorado’s beautiful mountains, Benny loves being outside. So much so that sometimes he lets the outside in. Even in Florida’s sticky summer heat, Benny will leave the back door wide open behind him whenever he goes out onto the patio. I guess he figures there's no point in closing the door when he'll be back sometime between now and three hours from now.

Eyeroll.

He’s come in and out of the house at least a half dozen times in the past five minutes alone. A task as simple as grilling burgers for the four of us is turning into a hundred step process as first he forgets the spatula, then the cheese, and finally a clean plate to put the cooked burgers on. Then he suddenly decides he wants hot dogs as well.

And this man swears he doesn’t have ADHD.

A hot, humid breeze dances over my body as I stand at the sink, cleaning dishes I had let pile up. The AC unit rumbles in the distance, trying to fight off the heat creeping in, but it’s a losing battle. I've given up on reminding Benny to close the door.

Sophie, our youngest, isn't as agreeable. She's sitting at the kitchen island behind me, a coloring book and a box of crayons strewn in front of her. She whines, and when I turn toward her, I can see the tension building in her shoulders as her eyes seem to follow something around the room.

“A mosquito!” she screams. I have no idea how she's a product of Benny when she hates the outdoors, especially insects, so much.

I don’t immediately see whatever she sees, though I'm certain if our backyard wasn't covered with a screen, all of the state's wildlife would've snuck in by now. There could be a gator climbing up the wall for all I know. I’m honestly not surprised that a mosquito snuck through the netting and got into the house, but I really could not care less about playing bug catcher right now.

“It’ll be okay, baby,” I say, turning back to the dish in my hand. “If you don’t bother it, it won’t bother you.”

“But it will bite me,” she whines, squirming in her seat.

“I’ll get it in a minute, sweetheart,” I offer, hoping she’ll just forget about it and move on. “I promise it won’t bite you.”

“I don’t want it to bite me!” Sophie cries, growing more distraught. “No, no, no! Go away, mosquito!”

Exhaling sharply, I drop the dish in my hand into the sink and turn off the water. Following her gaze, I finally see the source of her fear. There, on a wall nowhere near where she is, is a housefly, minding its own business.

Knowing she won't stop whining until it's taken care of, I grab a swatter and kill it, leaving a black mark on the wall to deal with later. Better yet, I’ll make Benny clean it up, since he’s the one who invited all of nature indoors.

“There. Better?” I ask, turning to look at Sophie, hoping she's satisfied and will let me return to my task.

“Yay! You’re my superhero!” Sophie cheers, clapping and smiling giddily.

"Thank you, baby." I offer her a small smile before turning back to the sink

As soon as I return to washing the dishes, Benny walks into the kitchen, a plate full of cooked food in one hand and a dirty spatula in the other.

“Hello. My name is Mosquito Montoya,” he says with the worst Spanish accent, and I can just sense him pointing the spatula at me. “You killed my father. Prepare to die.”

Sophie squeals with laughter, finding anything and everything her father does entertaining. If anything, she’s always encouraging him.

I go still, staring blankly at the wall in front of me. Sometimes I cannot believe the things that come out of his mouth.

“I swear to god I’m leaving,” I say, shutting off the water and reaching for a towel to dry my hands. He’s been in a playful mood all day and I’m just over it – well, not really, but I can’t let him know that. He’s incorrigible. “I am running away and never coming back.”

“You keep saying that,” Benny says. He drops back into the Spanish accent and adds, “I do not think it means what you think it means.”

“Jesus Christ,” I say, tossing the towel onto the counter. I throw my hands in the air, feigning defeat. “I'm done.” I walk out of the kitchen, shaking my head and biting my lip to hide the laughter. He might be annoying as hell at times, but he’s hilarious - I just can’t let him know it.

“True wuv will fowow you foreva,” Benny quotes, following closely behind me.

“Oh my God! Stop!” I exclaim, laughter creeping up in my voice. I pretend to cover my ears.

“So tweasure your wuv!” he exclaims.

“Never!” I shout, but I'm quickly breaking into giggles while trying to escape him.

“Get back, witch!" Benny finally exclaims between laughs. He reaches out and grabs my wrist, spinning me around and pulling me into a kiss before I can protest further. As his lips touch mine, everything else melts away. I surrender to the pleasure, a soft moan escaping my lips as I kiss him back with more intensity.

After a moment, I push him away, and he stares at me in confusion.

“I’m not a witch, I’m your wife,” I say, and his lips immediately twist into a more mischievous smile. He knows that I almost always go along with his nonsense. “And after what you just said, I’m not even sure I want to be that anymore.”

“You never had it so good,” he replies, bringing me in for another kiss.

I can’t argue that.

[brinxxxx]

A Bang Chan FF (content warning 18+!!) (smut)

Whipped For You:

Chapter 5: The Mental Breakdown

Y/N POV:

I started to get ready. Wearing a tight black shirt ish dress. Nothing too revealing. It's not just me and chan at this dinner. It was was enough for him to double take. I were Smokey eye makeup with a red lip stick to match. Gold jewellery and black heels. A bag to match.

The door goes and it's Chan picking me up. I open the door to see his jaw drop at the site of me. I will admit his outfit was just as stunning. He really scrubbbed up well. Like he always does.

"Chan. Earth to Chan...?"

No response. I have an idea. I lean closer to him. Going to his ear and whisper "wakey wakey daddy" that brought him back. I giggle at his reaction, his face red like a tomato. Suddenly he forgets how to talk or breath as he chocked as I left his proximity. "We, we should get going...sh-shall we"

I loved every minute of flustering him. I can't wait to do it more. Payback. Karma. I lock up and head to his car as he opens the door for me like a gentleman he is. "Y/N you do look beautiful..."

"Thanks Mr Bang..."

"Y/N. I've told you. It's chan. Only during business call me Mr Bang. Okay?" He spoke so softly. It was dreamy. We sat in comfortable silence. It was nice.

We eventually got to this fancy looking restaurant. It was huge, they had vallet parking it was that fancy. We got in and was greeted with the other boss' s of the company.

Lee Minho, Seo Changbin, Hwang Hyunjin, Han Jisung, Lee Felix, Kim Seungmin and Yang Jeongin. JYP was meant to join but he had an emergency meeting so he couldn't make it. Even thought I was older than 4 of the bosses doesn't mean I wasn't terrified of them. Changbin was just older than me by 5 months. He loved reminding me when I worked for him.

We sat down enjoying each others company. Chatting amongst ourselves I feel someone staring at me right across the table. Chan. He didn't like how flirty chat I was doing with Minho. Infact I enjoyed it. Minho has a wife but always has flirty jokes and he knows me well enough that I can take them I could feel Chan's jealous glare between me and Minho. In fact he interrupted my conversation.

"Don't you have a wife Minho? Watch what you're doing..."

"Yeah chan. I do. It's harmless jokes. It's all friendly. Don't worry. Why would you care. She ain't yours. You've got your fiancé...no!?"

"You know my situation with my...partner. So don't even start!"

"Yes. Yes. You 'love of your life' isn't actually it. Are you still holding out for 'the one'? You better hurry up...before you know you'll be stuck with the wicked witch of the west..."

"You never I may have found her. How will you know? You know me. I like to keep my life private."

"You mean you're life so private you're supposed fiancé talks shit about you to the press? She's exposed so much shit about you. Heck she even said youve had an affair recently!"

Everyone went silent. Chan started laughing. "Well, she's talking shit. I haven't made a move on the person in mind. Let alone had an affair. She's found her person yet I'm getting the brunt for not able to find mine. I haven't seen any articles about this? Where are you hearing about this...?"

"Here...it's on Dispatch. See? She's mocking you. She's talks about how you sensitive you are in bed whil she sits and fakes it till your done. She even talks about your close relationship with...Y/N!?"

Everyone looks at you. You some how manage to perk up the courage to talk. "I'm close with all of you? I've worked hard since day one and always had a good work relationship with you all? I've never crossed any lines or done anything wrong in my line of work? I swear."

"Oh don't worry Y/N. We know you wouldn't do such a thing and plus even if you did who's to say we would sell out Chan Hyung and you? We may be your boss and yeah we work with a Chan Hyung but we are a close net family. Secrets are always kept with us. Don't stress...now shall we talk about something else? This conversation seems to be very dull...Y/N...how's is your Love Life?"- Seungmin wiggles his eyebrows about his question.

Ugh. That dreaded question. I hate being asked that. Not like I have much going on. The closest thing I had was that moment in Chan's office or at my house earlier. I spaced out thinking about that moment. I was getting really hot thinking about it and it didn't help he was right across from me gazing at me like I'm gonna be his last meal... god I want him so bad. No. I can't. I have to stay strong.

"Ughhhm love life...? Don't have one. I'm sorry very boring. All I do is work, eat, sleep and repeat. I don't do much else... I started going to the gym recently. I liked my PT he's kinda cute. Very supportive in what my image is. He asked me out but I declined. I don't like dates, don't like dating..."

"So you're telling us...you've e had NO action for what like...months? Jesus. How you handling it solo...?" - Felix gives a wink. Knowing what he meant I choked on my drink. The cheeky bastard. What's with these guys and wanting to talk about my love life or sex life? They aren't my friends. I mean yeah we have great chat and banter but we aren't that close. Bare in mind these are MEN. I froze thinking about the moment again. My eye darted to Chan. He kinda got my message. He nods at me.

"I mean I have a very good imagination so I've managed just fine guys. Don't worry. Haha well excuse me I need to go to the ladies room."

I exit swiftly and run to the girls room. Feeling very hot and bothered. I hear chan saying he and Minho were going out for a smoke so I'm glad he wouldn't be there for when I returned. However as soon as I opened the door to go back, Chan was there standing in front of it. As if he was about to walk in...?

"Chan? This is the ladies room?"

"Yeah I know I just had to do this..."

He grabs me passionately and kisses me. Closing the door behind him and pulled me into a stall. The sub side of me started coming out. Allowing Chan to take control and do whatever he wanted. "Are you okay with this...?"

"What about your fiancé..."

"What about her..."

"Chan. She's here. I saw her in the toilet before I left..."

"Fuck it. I want YOU. Not her. Now...does this baby girl want to be good and get treated...?"

"Yes...daddy"

[givemea-dam-break]

ephemeral - chapter five

a/n: further continuing my creative liberty of touch lol. this took a little longer to come out as it was coming out shorter than i would've liked, so I've been fleshing it up a bit :) hope you all enjoy!

warnings: language, injury, mentions of death gn reader tag list -> @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @nessa-stark @superpositvecloudshipper @wordsarelife

full collection: here

You've dealt with plenty of Wraiths in your career as an agent, but something about this one leaves a pit in your stomach. Maybe it's her haunting gaze or the way you know she's watching your every move with those empty eyes of hers. Maybe it's the ring of bruises around her neck, and the way her faint voice is crackly and strained as if her vocal cords don't work properly.

"How do I help you?" you ask, watching her from within the iron circle. "Where is your source?"

Unlike Lucy, you can't converse with ghosts. Your Listening is half-decent at best. But you can feel.

"Show me where your source is. I want to help you."

"Help me."

"Yes, yes, I'm trying."

Cautiously, you step outside of the iron circle and stand between it and the wall, tightly grasping your rapier but keeping it pointed at the ground so as to not threaten the ghost. Though her gaze lingers on nothing, you can feel her watching. You make sure to keep your movements slow and as not threatening as possible.

"Where is it?"

Your fingers find the wall adjacent to the ghost, and a terrible feeling of horror and sorrow overtakes you, clouded almost entirely by fear. It's as if your own throat is being held by large hands, choking you with a strength you didn't know possible. You can't breathe.

You can't breathe.

You can't breathe.

But, far deep beneath the roiling emotions, you can feel it - a pulsing beat over to the left.

Tearing your hand away from the wall, you breathe heavily. The ghost hasn't moved from her spot by the wall, but her head has turned and you almost jump. In the glow of moonlight streaming through the window, her cheekbones look that much more hollow. Slowly, her shimmering figure floats to the side, away from you.

"If only Lockwood were here to see this," you murmur.

The Wraith has provided you with exactly what you need - space. Though you stay on guard, ready to defend yourself in case she attacks, part of you isn't worried about it.

You crouch to the ground, trailing your fingers over the dusty floorboards. A small spider slips out from a small gap and darts past your fingers.

"Bingo."

Using your crowbar, you wrench the floorboard up, coughing as a cloud of dust and cobwebs follows.

"Help me," the ghost says. Her tone has changed slightly - it's a little softer now. You've found it.

As you lift the small, dusty box from the small hole beneath the floor, you say, "You only attacked because they did, didn't you? You just needed someone to understand."

The box holds a dainty ring, along with a letter of love that you don't read just yet. Instead, you wrap the whole thing in one of your silver nets. Immediately, the ghost winks out of existence and you swear you hear a sigh of relief.

One ghost down. You should feel glad, but there's still a pit in your stomach. That one went easily, which means this next one will be a pain in the ass.

"(name)."

Looking up, you find Lockwood at the door, staring at you and the silver net in your hands. The moonlight makes it looks like he's glowing, but it only emphasises the angry look on his face - the furrow of his brows, the twitch in his jaw.

"Lockwood, I'm sorry, but I figured it out! I got the source, and she didn't even try to attack me. In fact, she moved out of the way so I could get her source!"

His anger feels like a tangible thing like you could hold it in your hands and feel it burn. It's a blazing inferno, and something about it feels familiar though you're not sure why. This anger isn't the same as the one you both felt the night he fired you nor is it any kind of anger you've seen him display before. Truthfully, it feels a little dramatic for something that ended up being so small.

He says nothing, only turns on his heel and strides down the hall.

"Oh, come on, Lockwood!" You follow him, opting to leave the chains and equipment where they are for now. If another ghost appears, you both have protection.

His strides are so long that it almost looks as though he isn't walking but floating. He reaches the top of the stairs in no time.

You storm behind him. The hall feels longer now. "Seriously, she moved for me. I was in no danger! Won't you say something?"

In your anger, you miss the way his rapier seems to flicker through the wall as he descends the stairs.

"(name)!" a voice calls - Lockwood's, but it doesn't come from the being in front of you. It's distant, desperate.

"Lockwood?" you say.

The Lockwood on the stairs turns, and it's now that you realise that it wasn't the moonlight making him glow. It's other-light. His feet hover right above the step he's on. Something about his face feels inherently wrong like it isn't his. It's missing something; the little details you've noticed over years of knowing him. Those freckles you noticed the other day are gone, and the scar that should be on his temple - ever so faint - is nowhere to be found. And that anger you feel, that surrounds the very air you breathe, isn't his. It's the same anger you felt in your first vision.

"What -?"

He drifts up the stairs, closer to you, and you stumble backwards.

"Lockwood?" you repeat.

"(name)!" his distant voice shouts. This one's mouth doesn't move.

Confusion clouds your brain and pricks your eyes with tears. What's happening? You make to hold your rapier out in front of you, only to find it gone. When you glance back, it's gleaming in the doorway of the faraway bedroom, the one you'd come from. You must've discarded it for some reason.

You can hear footsteps, pounding up the steep stairs, and now there are two Lockwoods. Something in your chest feels far too tight, and you're finding it hard to breathe.

"Behind you!" is all you hear before the new Lockwood's rapier sticks straight through the first's chest. The first evaporates.

But you've become preoccupied.

Somehow, the Wraith is back, and her eyes, once empty and sad, are murderous.

You're trained to know how to get out of ghost-lock, but the Wraith's fury is palpable, and you're choking on it. Somewhere, Lucy's and George's voices can be heard, but they're far off. Lockwood is dealing with the... other Lockwood, alternating between making him disappear with a slash of his rapier and trying to tear the floorboard off the top step.

It's as if all of your bones have locked into place with fear. A wave of hopelessness crashes over you, clogging your throat and weakening your knees. What's the point? After this case, what will happen? Is it possible to make amends with Lockwood? Will you even make it out of this mansion alive?

What reason do you have to try?

Working at Arif's has made you happy, but it has never fulfilled you the way working on a case has. That life is impossible now. You have no team, no Talents fantastic enough to become a freelancer. This case has allowed you to feel something you haven't in a while - wholeness - and whether that's from the case itself, or Lucy and George, or even Lockwood, is it even possible to keep working with them?

If you were to work with Lockwood and Co again, you'd be forced to stay home and not take part in the action-packed parts of cases despite that being the part that makes you feel most like yourself. You can't just spend the rest of your career only doing research.

So what's the point?

The Wraith is a blessing. She'll let you go easily, you know it. Her hand reaches up towards your face, and a small smile splits her dry lips.

"Help me," she murmurs. Her whole body shines.

You find yourself repeating her words, watching as she draws closer. She just wants to help. She doesn't like seeing you suffer. She just -

Something slams into her, exploding, and she disappears for a moment with a wail of agony.

You stumble backwards, struggling to breathe. Clutching your chest, you fall back against the wall as Lockwood darts past, slashing his rapier through the glowing Wraith. There's a banging sound down at the bottom of the stairs, and you assume it's Lucy and George trying to find the source.

There is only one Lockwood now - your Lockwood. His moves are swift and precise, and he's sure to keep the ghost far, far away from you. The look of fury on his face almost matches that of the other's, and it makes your blood run cold.

"Got it!" It's Lucy's voice.

Almost immediately after, the Wraith disappears, screaming, and a heavy weight in the air finally lifts.

Unable to hold your own weight anymore, you sink down to the ground, keeping your back to the wall. You need to snap out of this. You need to get yourself together. You're an agent - you've been trained to be better than this.

Hands grasp yours, and when you look, you notice how bloody your cuticles are. You've got a bad habit of picking at them when things go wrong.

"You're okay." Lockwood. These are his hands.

You don't want to look at him, scared to find that glowing, scarless face of his staring back, but you force yourself to. There he is, freckled and scarred and most certainly not glowing. His eyebrows are knitted with worry, and he's breathing heavily, likely from just fighting off two ghosts.

"Fetch?" you ask. The quietness of your voice shocks both of you.

"Fetch," he confirms.

Your breaths quiver. "They're right about them being dangerous. It got your angry look down to a tee."

"The ghost was... me?"

Words fail you this time, so you nod. His hands squeeze yours, and he doesn't even glance away when Lucy and George pass behind, heading to the far bedroom to grab the equipment and the source you found.

Noticing your confusion, he says, "The ghosts downstairs disappeared, I'm guessing when you found that source. What was it?"

"A ring," you manage. "A little love letter."

"Makes sense. It was a married couple down there but, if the apparitions were anything to go by, it was a maid and one of the Lord's sons. Scandalous. You saved the three of us down there, even if you did break your promise."

"She moved out of the way - the Wraith." Your voice is no more than a whisper. "Like she wanted me to get the source. And then you appeared - well, not you. But I really thought... God, I'm so stupid."

"Hey, look at me." His hands find your face, warm against your chilled skin, and he tilts your head up so that you're looking straight at him rather than just at his tie. "You're safe now, alright? The three of us would've been dead if you hadn't found that source. Her and the Fetch - well, my guess is that they were working together and wanted to get as many people up here together as they could."

"Can ghosts do that?"

"Those Changers at Combe Carey, remember?"

"Oh, yes."

He just looks at you for a moment, studying you with that worried look on his face. "Come on, let's get you home."

Home. Where is that? Your measly little flat? 35 Portland Row? ... Lockwood?

You used to believe that - that, no matter where you were, as long as Lockwood was beside you, you were home. But that feeling died the day you left. Probably.

Lockwood helps you stand, and he keeps close to you as you all gather your things, keeping an eye on you. He offers to take your kit bag for you, but you decline the offer. The weight of it, the feeling of the strap cutting into your palm, keeps you alert. You're worried that without it you'll lose sense of reality and spiral, repeating those thoughts from your ghost-lock.

At some point, Lockwood must've called for a night cab, because one is already waiting for you when you all step outside.

It's roomier than the taxi, but you shove all your things in the boot before climbing into the back seats. You don't miss the fact that Lockwood sits next to you.

Home you go. If there's such a place.

<- part 4 part 6 ->

[linh-cindy]

An Unexpected Rejection

The scene where Cinder is asked by Prince Kai to be his personal guest at the 126th Annual Peace Ball but she declines- in Kai"s point of view!

Kai was late.

He really needed to see Dr. Erland, but apparently, time wasn't on his side.

He spotted the nearest elevator behind him and as it was about to close, the elevator operator was able to hold it.

"Please hold," the voice announced.

"Sorry, sorry," Kai said to the person inside the elevator, practically slipping into it, "thanks for the hold--"

His voice caught when he saw the person inside.

Linh Cinder was leaning on the elevator wall, arms crossed, and she seemed genuinely shocked to see him standing there.

"Linh-mèi?" Kai blurted out.

She froze. She pushed herself off the elevator wall, something that Kai should have told her not to do and risk her being uncomfortable.

"Your Highness," Cinder muttered quietly, bowing.

Kai could sense the tension radiating off her. He wished he could do something to ease it.

Silence filled the elevator. A minute passed before Cinder spoke.

Cinder cleared her throat. "You should, um, just call me Cinder. You don't need to be so-" She slammed her mouth shut.

Kai's mouth twitched into an almost-smile.

Stop! Act normal! Kai scolded himself.

"All right, Cinder," he said, thankful his voice was steady. "Are you following me?"

Cinder frowned, which made Kai a little guilty he was teasing her. "I'm just going to check on the med-droid," she said. "That I looked at yesterday. To ensure it doesn't have any remaining bugs or anything."

Kai nodded. This was not going well. "I was on my way to talk to Dr. Erland about his progress," he told her to cut the silence. "I heard through the grapevine that he may have made progress with one of the recent draft subjects. I don’t suppose he said anything to you?"

Cinder fidgeted with her belt loops. "No, he didn't mention anything. But I'm just the mechanic."

They didn't say anything after that.

She doesn't know.

The elevator stopped. Kai motioned for her to exit first, then he followed her.

"Your Highness?" said a young woman in front of him. "I am so sorry."

"Thank you, Fateen," said Kai quietly. He kept walking.

Cinder frowned, confused.

Not a dozen steps later, they were halted by a man who also gave his condolences to Kai.

Kai saw Cinder shiver beside him. She stopped.

"You haven't seen the net this morning."

A heartbeat later, Cinder's eyes widened and she clapped a hand over her mouth.

Kai was surprised, but it faded away easily. He ducked his head. "Good guess."

"I'm so sorry. I didn't know-" she stammered frantically, her voice hinting at a million apologies.

Kai tucked his hands into his pockets. "I wish my father's death were the worst of it."

Cinder's eyes clouded over. Was something wrong? "Your Highness?"

Kai turned to look at her. He was getting sick of all these "Your Highnesses". Of course- not when Cinder said it. Wait-

"You can call me Kai," he blurted out before he could stop himself.

"Excuse me?"

"No more ‘Your Highness.’ I get enough of that from…everyone else. You should just call me Kai."

Cinder seemed momentarily dazed before he continued. She blinked like waking up from a daydream. "No. That wouldn't be-"

"Don't make me turn it into a royal command," he said, smiling.

Cinder scrunched her shoulders up by her ears. "All right. I suppose."

"Thank you," said Kai gratefully. "We should go then."

After a bit of quiet walking, he asked curiously, "What was wrong with the android?"

Cinder scratched at an oil stain on her glove. "Oh, I’m sorry. She’s not done yet. I’m working on her, I swear." She's talking about Nainsi.

"No, I meant the med-droid," said Kai, pushing down the urge to ask more about Nainsi. "That you fixed for Dr. Erland?"

"Oh. Oh, right. Um. It was…it had…a…dead wire. Between its optosensor and…control panel," she stammered.

Kai raised his brow. She was lying.

Cinder cleared her throat as if to clear away the awkwardness. "You, uh, said that something was worse? Before?"

Kai said nothing.

"Never mind," said Cinder, shrugging. "I didn't mean to pry."

Dammit, Kai. You just blew it.

“No, it’s all right. You’ll find out soon enough.” He lowered his voice. “The Lunar queen informed us this morning that she is coming to the Commonwealth on a diplomatic mission. Supposedly," he told her.

Cinder almost tripped, and Kai felt a pang of guilt as she stumbled after him. "The Lunar Queen? You can't be serious."

“I wish I weren’t. Every android in the palace has spent the morning taking down every reflective surface in the guest wing. It’s ridiculous—like we have nothing better to do.”

“Reflective surfaces? I always thought that was just superstition.”

“Evidently not. Something about their glamour... It doesn't really matter."

“When is she coming?”

“Today.”

Cinder looked horrified.

“I’ll be making an announcement in half an hour," said Kai.

“But why would she come now, when we’re in mourning?”

Kai smiled grimly. “Because we’re in mourning.”

He stopped.

Shoot, Nainsi.

Kai turned toward Cinder nervously. “Look, I really appreciate your helping with the med-droids, and I’m sure the best mechanic in the city has a million jobs to prioritize, but at the risk of sounding like a spoiled prince, could I ask that you move Nainsi to the top of your list? I’m starting to get anxious about getting her back. I—” He paused long enough to catch the anxiousness in Cinder's face. “I think I could use the moral support of my childhood tutor right now. You know?” He wanted her to know he was lying. He needed to let her know he was lying. Lying for something far more important than childhood attachments or moral support.

Understanding flashed across Cinder's grease-coated face. “Of course, Your Highness. Sorry, Prince Kai. I’ll take a look at her as soon as I get home.”

Kai would have hugged her.

Oh, Cinder, thank you, thank you, thank you.

Kai stomped down his ridiculous thoughts and gestured at a door that had Dr. Dmitri Erland's name labeled on it.

As soon as they entered, Erland leapt to his feet. "Your Highness--I am so sorry. What can I do to help you?"

“Nothing, thank you,” said Kai. Then he reconsidered. "Find a cure."

“I will, Your Highness.” He pulled his hat on. “Of course I will.”

Cinder looked at Dr. Erland and guilt immediately clouded her eyes after a few seconds.

Kai cleared his throat. “I found your pretty new mechanic down in the lobby, and she tells me she’s here to check on the med-droids again. You know I could get you funding for some upgraded models if you require it.”

Oh shoot shoot shoot, did I just call her pretty? Kai thought furiously. What was I THINKING, oh SHOOT.

He willed himself to ignore her.

“No, no, they only needed a touch of maintenance,” said Dr. Erland, reassuringly. “Nothing to worry about, and I would hate to have to program a new model. Besides, if we didn’t have any malfunctioning androids, what excuse would we have for asking Miss Linh back to the palace from time to time?”

Kai saw Cinder glare at the doctor from the corner of his eye, and he couldn't help smiling.

“Doctor," Kai started, “I heard a rumor that you’ve made some sort of a breakthrough in the past few days. Is it true?”

Dr. Erland seemed as if he could slap anyone who started the rumor, but so far he seemed calm. “My prince, you should know better than to ask after rumors like that. I hate to give you hope before I know anything concrete. But when I do have solid information, you will be the first to see the report.”

“Right. In that case, I’ll leave you be and hope to see a report cross my desk any day now.”

“That could be difficult, Your Highness, considering you do not have a desk.”

Kai shrugged, unprovoked, and turned toward Cinder. "I hope our paths will cross again." He bowed his head a little.

"Really?" asked Cinder, grinning quite stiffly. "In that case, I guess I'll just keep following you."

Regret shined in Cinder's eyes for half a breath before Kai laughed.

Kai took Cinder's hand before he could stop himself. Panic crossed her face as he lifted her hand and placed a soft kiss on it.

Kai let go of Cinder's hand and bowed, exiting the room.

Then he got an idea.

An idea so crazy, it just might work.

"Gracious," whispered Dr. Erland as Kai opened the door.

“Pardon me, but might I have one more brief word with Linh-mèi?”

Dr. Erland gestured toward the mechanic. “By all means.”

Kai turned to her, still in the doorway. “I know this sounds like very poor timing, but trust me when I say my motives are based on self-preservation.” He inhaled a sharp breath. Please let this work. “Would you consider being my personal guest at the ball?”

Cinder froze for four heartbeats and a half. Her eyes were big and scared.

Kai waited.

And waited.

Then he raised his brows to catch her attention.

She blinked. "E-excuse me?" she stuttered.

"I assume you are going to the ball?"

“I-I don’t know. I mean, no. No, I’m sorry, I’m not going to the ball.”

The hope rushed out of Kai in a millisecond.

SHOOT.

“Oh. Well...but...maybe you would change your mind? Because I am, you know.”

"The prince," Cinder completed for him.

"Not bragging," Kai blurted out, feeling sweat trickling at the back of his neck. "Just a fact."

"I know."

After a long moment, Cinder said, “I-I’m sorry. Thank you—I… thank you, Your Highness. But I must respectfully decline.”

Kai took a moment to process what she said. Once he did, he attempted a grin that hurt his face muscles. “No, it’s all right. I understand.”

In truth, he didn’t.

Hell, she was probably in love with someone else.

“My sincerest condolences, Your Highness,” said Dr. Erland. Kai nearly forgot he was there. “In more ways than one, it seems.”

Cinder glared at the doctor. Kai found it cute when she narrowed her eyes at him, scrunched her eyebrows and pressed her lips together.

Kai blinked a few more times to clear his head of that ridiculous thought.

“It was nice to see you again, Linh-mèi,” said Kai.

The look of annoyance was peeled off Cinder’s face and was replaced by panicked apology, but Kai couldn’t stand a second longer in there. Her mouth was just opening when Kai wrenched open the door and closed it behind him quietly.

Kai leaned against the wall beside the door to Dr. Erland’s office and dragged a hand down his face. “Stars,” he breathed. How could he be so foolish?…

Kai heard the doctor’s faint voice through the wood.

“What a shame you cannot blush, Miss Linh.”

Overwhelmed and exhausted, Kai cleared away his confusion at the doctor’s statement.

Can my life get any worse?

Tags:

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@cerenoya

@just2bubbly

@impossiblesuitcase

@thetlctrash

@opakitty

@winterrhayle

@cindersassasin