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the-monkeies-girl · 4 months

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Noa x Human ! Reader Imagines - Part Three.

well its about dang time em geez ive been working with these ideas for a hot minute.

PART ONE. PART TWO. Fandom: ( Kingdom of the ) Planet of the Apes. Pairing: Noa x Human ! Reader. Rating: T. ( Just for safe measure. Some mentions of sensual actions. )

Meeting Dar formally. ●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・

“Would you… Like to join… for a meal?”

Simple enough question and you beamed at the prospect. It wasn’t like you didn't share meals with him. You often found yourself encased in Anaya’s presence when the sun began to dip in the sky, signaling to the Clan that communal dinner was mere minutes away.

The assortment of berries, freshly roasted fish with seeds, and sometimes even apples, green and red, always left Anaya in a good mood, his arm holding onto your shoulders and dragging you along as he urged you to come with him to sit with Soona and Noa instead of sitting in pensive ‘Echo silence’ he had dubbed it. The trio had become a quartet in the blink of an eye, and your usual spot was rested between Soona and Noa, having to take the force of the male Ape next to you when he swatted away Anaya from stealing any of his food.

The next words to fall out of his mouth were that of explanation, “No, no.” You stopped moving your hands against the twine you were using for a necklace and looked over at him with a doe-like expression, like he had just caught you in his grasp on the hunt, “I--- With… Mother?”

The stare Noa was getting from your direction was… Undetectable as far as emotions went. It was like you had gone and turned into the most brittle form of metal, scoured from the depths of the Echo Ruins. A clean slate, but speckled with moss and rust from years upon years of exposure to the elements. He knew how to read you in most instances, but right now, you were giving him nothing to work with as you thought about the posed question he just presented you with. You eyes were widened, he got that. That often meant surprise, shock. Your lips were semi-parted and Noa lingered on the plump and soft-looking nature of them. Your brows were smoothed, no indicative to him of the previously mentioned emotions. It’s like you were frozen before you finally managed to belt.

“You want me to join you and your mom for dinner?”

Nodding in response to your put together question, Noa thanked the highest elders in the sky that you were able to formulate what he was beckoning. How was he, as the Leader of his Clan, proud and endowed with much knowledge ( that he still admittedly had to learn about ), ask an Echo… to join his Mother, who was undoubtedly the most weighty presence in Noa’s life, to share a meal? In fact, he had spent nearly the entire day thinking about and finally just rested and tried to grapple with the idea that asking you instead of throwing you into it would be the better option from his very selective plate of offerings.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t met her - In fact, you and she shared many conversations in passing, one of the more important being when she questioned you as Noa expected she would when he offered you to stay with the Clan. She figured, in all her wisdom and adoration for her only child, that you were not a threat and you were granted the ability and flexibility within the community to do things. She even taught you how to summon Eagle Sun when Noa wasn’t around to make the bid for his bird. But this? To share an actual meal? Something incredibly theological to the Eagle Clan, was a terrifying thought.

Just because she didn't see you as a previous threat did not by proxy mean that she liked your presence. Maybe, she just tolerated it because it’s what Noa chose. You tried to tell yourself that time and time again, almost afraid of the Matriarchy.

“What… if she doesn’t like me?”

You were ultimately left with that question still at the tip of your tongue as Noa had told you that it wasn’t something you needed to stress or worry about. As reassuring as his words were, as soft and gentle as he grasped at your shoulders to tear you away from the inner workings of your anxious mind, you still found yourself lingering on it as you feet trailed you along the dirt path of the village, directly towards the sweeping bonfire that captured your attention.

Smaller fires rested to the side, used for roasting the seeds and the meat caught by either Eagles or the Apes themselves. Trying to focus on something other then the usual gait of Noa, bi-pedal and directing you with his body, you found it difficult when he moved with such ease, like this… Wasn’t an issue. That you eating with his Mother was not a big deal.

Your mind was racing.

What if… she found your eating weird? I mean, it was. You thought to yourself with raised eyebrows and stepped over a small rock that would have otherwise left you on the floor had it not been for Noa and your steps mirroring his to an exact tee. It was weird by association because you were the only Echo around, only one to join them ever for a meal. You tore your food apart before eating with your hands, Apes… did not.

They ripped, almost in a very hypnotic way, with their teeth and it left you feeling almost numb when you had seen Noa do it for the first time seated next to him. He was aggressive, canines digging into the flesh of a fish and tearing without reserve. You felt grossed out at first, turning away but you couldn’t stop yourself from gawking at the nature of which his jaws moved with such power and force.

What if… Oh no, you grumbled inside of your head, what if you needed to commence in small talk? You had no adequate training as far as Chimp etiquette. What did they like to talk about? Well, you supposed you could always resort to the Eagles. After all, her Husband had so diligently spent his life, and her life when they got married, taking care of them. She knew things about them that even Noa didn't know.

Bumping into Noa’s back, you gasped as you came into reality once again. Not even realizing that you had been so in-depth with introspection, you caught a brief look from the Leader of the Clan before he directed his gaze, asking you to silently follow, to his Mother. So elegantly seated on the ground in front of the sweep of the bonfire, the flames flapped the blue threaded shawl over her shoulders. It looked like wool - and it looked incredibly comfortable as she watched you come around her son, who was gesturing with one hand a place for you to sit.

Smiling at her, the nerves fluttered around the back of your head like tiny butterflies as you drew your body down onto the ground, cross-legged and watched with baited interest as Noa sat - not next to you, not next to his Mother, but in front of the two of you so all three of your bodies created a triangle, good for communication with speak and sign.

“Echo,” Noa said to his Mother while advertently signing along to his phrases, “Is called (Name).”

You tried to see the nature of the sign he used for your name, if there was even one. The motion was towards you and then towards his chest, his heart. You blinked at that, transfixed but maybe it was the light playing tricks on your eyes.

He introduced you, the fluttering of insects that you felt crawling in your head only magnified at the sound of your name from Noa. It was rare, but you liked the sound.

“(Name).” Two times? You felt like you were going to fall backwards as you looked over at his Mother with kind eyes. At least, that’s how you hoped they looked. There was no clear way to tell as the blaze of the fire surged against you, giving you a good means to cover the redden nature of your cheeks as she looked right back at you.

It was easy to see where Noa got his intense stare from. And the cartoon-heart shaped nose. And the freckles that lined along her and her son's brow bones. All things passed to Moa, proudly, you hoped as he was impeccable all around. Especially to the eyes.

“This is… my mother,” He shuffled on his feet in a crouched position towards her and then towards you, “Dar.”

It felt like you were being watched with intense scrutiny. Was your back straight enough? Did she care if it was? Were you being too forthcoming by sitting cross legged, like you were familiar with her? It was obvious in the way that Noa moved next to you, his shoulder barely grazing yours for a fleeting moment, that the tense nature of the introduction finally hit him and he had an inkling now as to why you were worried about his Mother liking you. A bowl was suddenly placed in front of you. By Dar. Her movements were svelte, almost undetectable in your flurried anxious haze.

“So glad,” She started and gave you a smile. You felt a weight off your shoulders at that, like you could finally breathe, “That Noa find someone… To hold him to the ground.”

Noa scoffed at that, looking at his Mother with eyes that said ‘what’s that supposed to mean?’

She just looked at him, grasping the back of his head and bringing it forward so they were kissing brows. As quickly as it happened, they broke apart and she clarified, “So much like his Father.” You laughed under your breath as Noa began shifting on his feet again, obviously embarrassed that his Mother was going into this, “Always, head in the clouds. Like Eagle. You,” she gestured towards you with a pointed finger, “Keep him on the ground. For all of us.”

Riding Horseback. ●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・

From the moment that Noa grasped your forearm and hoisted you upwards to sit on the back of his horse, it felt like your heart was sitting very precariously against your lower esophagus. No matter how many times you tried to swallow it down, it lingered and it preserved and only seemed to cause more discomfort when you attempted to breathe but caught it stuck in your throat. By all means, you were more than capable of riding alone. You had done it many a-time using Soona’s horse who had a lesser temperament than Anaya’s. Like owner, like horse, you laughed at that inside of your head, setting your hands down on the saddle behind you that held you back in position, along the thickened twine that was used to hold provisions to the rear of the animal.

You lifted and adjusted yourself for comfort in the straddling position and shuffled forwards a bit so the semi-circle opening from your spread-legs was resting closer to Noa’s tailbone. He shifted in front of you, the broad movements of his shoulders leaving you even more breathless than the journey it took to get you to sit behind him. Grasping your right leg in his large hand that could surely take the entire circumference of your calf in one grasp if he truly wanted, he helped you position it properly before mirroring the action on the other side. Your bones of your legs felt like they were on fire, and he had only grazed them through the fabric of your fading cargo pants.

You were somewhat jealous at how simple it looked for Noa, the way his muscular legs bent around the shaft of his horse and tucked into the sides, the way his fingers held onto the reins so delicately, but with such underlining power. All captivating and done with ease, it left you almost in a trance. You had to shake yourself out of it with the remembrance that he had been riding since he was a child, the idea of him and Anaya absolutely going crazy in their young youth on horseback admittedly a bit comical inside of your head, especially when you thought about the reaction it would have garnered from Soona. Now- just because you were able to ride the horse did not equate to being able to ride them well. Surely you were better on your feet and Noa knew this, even though your feet sometimes faltered and you stumbled. He didn't watch those moments, he knew it would only cause you embarrassment if he gawked at you falling on your face. Noa always found that a bit strange - the premise of embarrassment being such a contention with you but he let it slide, deducing it to that simple notion of ‘Echo Behavior’.

‘Good?’ Noa had signed to you with his one free hand, and turned his head so he could see you from his periphery. His other hand pulled back the reins to get his horse friend into position to take off.

You staggered against him from the movement and drew your arms around his tapered waist, playing with the fur under your fingers as you did so, almost outlining the muscles that you knew were buried underneath with unspoken carnal want that was forbidden to both of you, at least, that’s what you told yourself. That’s what Noa told himself but it just drenched the moments when you were close with tooth-rotting sweetness, like someone had poured honey all over them.

Noa didn't mind at all - in fact the tickling sensation was more than adequate for the Ape and he found himself perked with almost primal pleasure at how you slid right against him, chest to his back. You placed your hands straight to his chest, palms down against it.

His fur hadn’t thickened yet for the winter months that were coming, it was easier here to feel the rip of his tendons under your touch. He swore his heart jumped a bit, curious if you were able to feel that against the pads of your fingers but you were quick to flee, moving away from that position, wildly dangerous on its own and even more so when you were on horseback and Noa was unable to look around at you to deduce your emotions from your face. Instead, you found your hands now cupped around him like a loop and placed them gently by the satchel he had tied around his hips for stability once you started moving. Fluttering your eyes forward towards the lush landscape that sat in front of you. The greens blended into the gold of the sun rising against the horizon. Like Noa’s eyes, they were in a fierce battle of dominance between the coloring, but as the sun continued its rise, you knew that the grassy green would come out on top and all you wanted to do was feel it against your bare back in the most deletable pose, like you were naked before Noa in a grassy meadow. Your destination? You were unsure, Noa was taking you to some place he had sought refuge from when he was on the hunt to find his Clan when they had been taken.

The notions of Raka fluttered in your mind, that Humanity and Apes had once lived side by side, you wanted to know more about that. About what he had found there, the remnants of humanity, so scared and faded. The remnants of a past you didn't want back, how could you think that when you were so placed so perfectly against the Eagle Clan’s leader. Placing your face between his shoulder blades for a moment and drenching yourself with his fur along your cheeks, you drew a deep breath in and shut your eyes. His smell eradicated your senses and left them all numb. The delicious vine smell that clung to the very tips of his fur all the way down to the Earth and how it would feel against your bare toes that rested beneath the upper layers of essence.

You clenched him tighter, crushing your breasts against his back in anticipation. Noa looking down at your hands, small and bare of any fur or scars, so snug against his waist with some flurry of satisfaction. You nodded against his back, turning your head to the side so you could rest against him like a pillow. Noa had told you the journey was long, but worth it, which meant you were going to be positioned against him for hours at a time to make the trek. With one gesture of his hand, Noa urged his horse forward, almost relishing in the small gasp and subdued tightening of your grasp as the two of you set off towards the rising sun.

Watching the Sunset. ●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・

The pure strength of a Chimpanzee became abundantly clear the moment you mounted Noa’s back. He barely faltered at the sensation of your weight against him, the only time he shifted outside of the norm was when he noticed how tightly your legs were drawn shut around his waist, how soft your arms were around his neck, a grazing connection happening when you set forth that motion and he could still feel it against his fur lined cheek.

It wasn’t much of a complaint that cause him to ruffle beneath you, just the fact that you were so near to him. Your very core, given the circumstance of your position, was resting against his mid-back as he helped hike you onto the broader nature of his torso. A shiver tore down your body as you placed your face near to his, like you were inside of his body as a secondary pilot. Your chest crushed against his back, near the sloop of his shoulder blades, your breath encasing his senses as your heart beat accelerated, felt even though the thickness of his fur and your jacket.

The climb upwards itself was always a ride, feeling the shift of Noa’s muscles under your forearms as he swung and captured his body along with yours, catapulting it off rusted beams and grown out trees. It was a skill he possessed very well; to climb without knowing where his next grip point would be. You figured all Apes had that innate instinct, but seeing it so close, seeing the actions of his hands grasping for air and then settling for a grip point, the tendons themselves of his fingers flaring with each hold… You focused on that as you embarked upwards, afraid to look down at how far he was taking you into the heavens. If he was ever nervous to carry you, it never showed on Noa’s face or movements.

As soon as it began though, the Chimp who had given you a ride planted his spread out toes along a sturdy concrete roof. It was secure under him, no falling for either of you. He dipped his body into a crouch, a courtesy to you so you could slide off of him in the most practical, not meant to be pretty, manner. Your shirt rose against his fur, catching all the right spots on your way down that you were both blessed with just a fleeting seconds worth of your bare skin hitting against the very tips of his dark brown fur. You fluttered at that, dangling your feet before pushing your weight off Noa with a small ‘thud’ to the ground below accompanied by a rather yummy ‘uff’ from your mouth that Noa ate up. At first, in your haze to get situated so far off the ground, you thought it was a tree. The green lush of Mother Earth took back what was hers, all the way into the blue sky as toppling sky-scrapers reminded everyone of a time long ago. “What are we doing?” You asked him softly, watching as he hunched onto all fours and was urging to follow him. ‘Up here?’ You asked again in sign, this one a little different in phrasing as your signing was rudimentary at its best. Noa just scoffed at your impatience, signing at you to just wait, and that he was taking you to see was more than worth the wait. So typical of Echo to want to know where they are going before they go, always ruins surprises, he thought to himself with a chuffed laugh in your direction as he crawled himself up a fallen beam that was angled upwards, resting against an embankment of another level of the building you were on.

Graciously, he held a hand out for you to take and helped you with the beam, one of your hands grasping at the side of it so you didn't teeter on your unbalanced legs trying to follow his movements before Noa yanked on the arm he had held securely in his fur lined hand. He grunted as he hoisted you, more aggressive than either of you realized until you came barreling right into him, your chests meeting, his arm instinctually grasping at your waist before you crunched your knees to stop yourself from completely taking both of your bodies down by force of momentum.

That only lasted a second as you looked at him with widened eyes, still smacked together, his mouth forming an ‘O’ shape as he hooted out of laughter at the reaction he got from you.

Scared. Senseless? Never with Noa. Out of your mind for being so far up the ground and one slip of your hand, or even his, was going to end in your impending doom as you fell to the ground below? Oh yeah.

You brushed off him and muttered a small, ‘I could have died’ as your fingers trailed along his own, twirling around the calloused pads and detailing them with your grasp, searching for more leniency, more yearning brooding right at the end of your fingertips. Your words must have struck him as even funnier as his head tilted backwards with a huff and ragged mouth breathing, indicative of amusement. Noa raised his free hand and gave you a rather grasping ‘dramatic’ with his fingers in response to your statement. You tried to give your eyes a rest from the feast that was the Ape in front of you, but the expression across Noa’s face was drawing you in as you chuckled alongside him. Still entracing your hand in his, the only part of the previous actions that made it to survive, you weren’t begging yourself to take away from the embrace as Noa led in front of you, past fallen debris, past overgrown tree leaves that would rival you in size, up, up, up. The only distance between the two of you being that of your bent in arm, extending into his own as he trailed forward bi-pedal now. Less than two feet, you figured, was lingering between you and you could smell his essence wafting off him with each swift move of his shoulders. You soaked it in selfishly, enjoying the bounce of his fur with his movements, how it caught the light from broken shells in the ruins around you as it drifted between appearing black and appearing honey-soaked brown. A giggle bubbled to the surface of your lips as he tugged a bit harder, the excitement of what he was pulling you towards coming to a bittersweet end as you two rounded one more corner. “Noa, you’re going to rip my… arm… off…” You came to a dead stop. Feet unable to move forward, your eyes widened at the scene in front of you. If only you had the proper words to describe to Noa what you were seeing, what the two of you were experiencing. You had the feeling that you were going to chatter about this to him for days on end once he got you back on solid ground. Beyond the valley of where the Eagle Clan had made its refuge decades upon decades ago, spanning so many generations, beyond the flushed nature of the greened landscape that was kissed by grass, shrubs of variety, trees and flowers… Was a vast panorama of blue, splattered against the backdrop of the sun as it began its routine descent in the sky.

The sky itself was holding onto the last remnants of soft pastel azure, speckled deliciously with whitened clouds that reminded you of the white feathers the Eagles would shed once they came to age. Swiftly, right before your eyes, the Heavens dove into the greater beauty of fluffy clouds with tingles of orange and pink clinging to the edges, more vivid in the center of them as the Earth above turned from the regular day into a set. The sky, alight now with purple near the horizon, flirting against the brisk of the blue you could see, pink enthralled the capsulated lid above the sun itself. Your lips parted. Noa, as much as he wanted to see what you were seeing, was unable to tear his hazel gaze from you. He had found this place by accident on a personal search for what Raka’s words meant, a journey of self-reflection he took once the Clan was back to some normalcy after what happened. You swallowed gently, trying to find words but there were none to describe this. Feeling a prickling at the corner of your eyes, you moved away from Noa. One step at a time was taken, Noa watching with haze as you shifted away from him as if you wanted to become one with the sun itself.

He held his arm out for you in case you slid your feet against something slick, in case you came too close to the edge and he needed to pull you back in but you stopped, inches away from the ledge. A few pebbles of concrete bursted from the weight, trickling downwards in a spiral. The blue you were seeing… right along the curve of the Earth... It was the ocean, it had to be. There was no way… That it wasn’t. The laps you were seeing, crisped with a white top as they hit into each other, were waves. You could swear that the smell of sea-salt hit your nostrils, but that could have just been wishful thinking.

A gasp escaped your lips when a tear slid down your cheek. Noa rounded you, coming to stand beside you on your right side. He was sure you had seen his movements, but just in case, to make himself known to you as you admired the beauty set before you by his truly, the side of his hand delicately placed itself against the smoother nature of the side of yours. “Noa, I---” You were grappling for something to say, instead you just gawked in amazement. Another shift occurred, the sun dripping itself away along the ripple of the blue. The sky was lit up now with more of a purple hazed tone with underwashing of midnight navy and some delectations of pink if you were really focusing. “You,” He was looking at the side of your face with devotion, eyes flickering from the softening of your eyebrows, to the curl of your lips as you backed into a smile of sorts, trying to ignore the tears that exploded on your tongue as a result, “You like… Where Noa brought you?”

“I’ve… I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.” You tried to get that pushed out of your mouth before you were put under the hypnotic state of the sunset again.

“You… are…” Noa whispered more to himself as you gave him a locking of the eyes for a moment with a tearful grin to thank him for bringing you here before you looked back forward to savor everything that your eyes had been blessed with.

Everything else to you faded away, your hand having realized that he was so near, went to grasp his fingers into your own to relish the moment. Inappropriate? Maybe. Did you care? Not anymore. You wanted to share this with him, and only him. Noa’s eyes dropped from the stare he had on the side of your face, down to your hand, snuggled into his own as he muttered so gently, you could have sworn it was murmured into the shell of your ear in a second of sparred intimacy. “So… beautiful.”

#noa #noa x reader #noa pota #noa x human reader #pota #planet of the apes #kotpota #kingdom of the planet of the apes #owen teague #emmy writes #fanfiction #fanfic #planet of the apes x reader

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separatist-apologist · 2 months

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Lying In Between The Memories

You could call it paradise but it looks just like hell to me

Summary: Following the blood rite, Gwyneth Berdara can't shake the memories of a life long-gone.

The shadowsinger can't seem to move on after five centuries of loving the same woman.

Together, they'll have to carve a new path forward.

Read on AO3 | Previous Chapter

[ongoing TW for Sexual Assault]

Hopefully the long wait is made up for this beefy chapter

“What do you mean, go back?” Nesta demanded. Gwyn wanted to ask Nesta who had taught her to winnow, or why they were currently standing in the swampy underbrush of the Middle, but some questions were for later. “We need to go home.”

Home. Gwyn wanted that more than anything—to retreat back into her little room in the library where she was no one important at all. Some small part of her wanted to go back to the time before this had all happened—before she knew Azriel was her mate or what it was like to touch him, know him—love him.

And because Gwyn loved him, she couldn’t go back to Night Court and pretend everything was fine. Nor could she go back to the way things had been, because Gwyn knew she’s spend the rest of her life regretting him. Missing him. Wanting him. And she knew if she told him she wanted him to leave, he would without question or complaint.

Would he miss her, too?

She thought so.

“We have to see this through,” Gwyn told Nesta, squaring her shoulders. “You don’t have to come with me—”

Both Nesta and Emerie spluttered, talking over the other as they declared of course they were going with her. Gwyn felt the knots in her stomach loosen.

“We should get Cassian—”

“No,” Gwyn breathed. “Cassian will tell the High Lord, and the High Lord might stop us.”

“He’d definitely stop us,” Nesta grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest. “But he’ll also kill us for going around him.”

“All we’re doing is getting my books,” Gwyn told Nesta, hands clammy. “We’ll be in and out before they even know we’re there.”

Emerie narrowed her eyes. “How do you figure that?”

It was a good question. Truthfully, Gwyn hadn’t thought that far ahead, though she figured it would come to her when they arrived. She shrugged, offering Nesta what she hoped was her most charming smile. “The same way we survived The Blood Rite.”

They both rolled their eyes in unison.

“Stealth,” Gwyn supplied. “We’ll sneak in, get my books, and sneak back out. No one will notice us because we’re supposed to be gone.”

“And when Eris realizes you’re missing?”

“That’s Eris’s problem,” Gwyn said flippantly, stomach knotting all over again. She hadn’t told her friends what Eris had shared with her—that she was related to his family through his mothers side of the family. That was another problem she’d deal with another day. Absently, Gwyn wondered if the High Lord would even let her stay now that she knew. Maybe he’d demand she go to Autumn.

Gwyn shook her head of the thought.

“Let’s get this over with,” Emerie murmured, looking to Nesta. “I don’t want to face Cassian’s wrath when he realizes what we’ve done.”

“Let me worry about Cassian,” Nesta said with a sly smile. “Once we get there, I won’t be able to help with my magic—winnowing takes a lot out of me.”

“Who taught you?” Gwyn heard herself asking.

Nesta’s cheeks darkened, as if she were embarrassed to admit it. It wasn’t Cassian, though, because Cassian could fly and didn’t need to. Gwyn also doubted it had been the High Lord, who had a strained relationship with Nesta for reasons Gwyn stayed out of.

“Feyre,” she said, casting her eyes downward. “She ah…she’s been helping with a lot of my magic recently.”

Both Gwyn and Emerie offered Nesta soft smiles, knowing better than to say anything that wasn’t encouraging. That must have been nice, if not a little awkward. Gwyn looked forward to hearing more about it when they were all safe and tucked into their beds. She was looking forward to a lot of things.

Like seeing Azriel.

She hadn’t been gone very long—Gwyn assumed he was still in the palace, still looking for her. He’d be able to come back with them, using that strange shadowy magic that let him winnow when the other Illyrians could no. He wouldn’t have left without her. She knew that. Gwyn knew it in her bones that Azriel was looking for her and that if he’d known she was in Autumn, he’d have come sailing in, knives gleaming, without giving a damn about his High Lords politics.

“We should go before Autumn comes looking,” Emerie said, turning her head as the wind picked up. In the distance, Gwyn swore she heard the sound of braying dogs. Maybe that was just her imagination, but…she wouldn’t put it past the Vanserras. It was said their ability to track went beyond the magic they commanded.

Emerie carried them out, one after another, to an area Nesta could use to winnow. Gwyn was in awe of her friend, who’d once refused to touch the magic she commanded, now gather it around her like a frigid kiss, and wrap both she and Emerie in it. Gwyn would never be used to the way the magic caved around her, pushing against her ribs to expel the air in her lungs.

It was over in a moment, depositing her on familiar, black sand shores. Nesta wouldn’t bring them closer to the palace for fear of setting off the wards, which meant they’d have to hike to get closer. Gwyn looked up at the basalt column and the castle looming overhead as Nesta’s head turned almost violently, those gray eyes narrowing at something only she perceived.

“I’ll fly you up,” Emerie offered, craning her neck from one side to the other.

“I’ll stay,” Nesta murmured, taking a step in the soft sand away from them. “Ten minutes.”

Ten minutes was all Gwyn needed, truly. Wrapping her arms around Emeries neck, heart thudding as she remembered how she’d just nearly escaped before, Gwyn let Emerie fly her up. It was nearly dark, the sky bleeding violet against an inky black. It wasn’t the balcony she and Azriel had when they’d been given a room to share, but it was close enough. Emerie didn’t dare speak when they landed, folding her wings tight against her body and too late, Gwyn realized her friend could fly.

She wanted to ask how, noting the scars still present on her wings. Emeries eyes gleamed, as if she, too, had been waiting for Gwyn to notice. There was pride there, beaming back, and a promise to tell Gwyn everything she’d missed once they were able to. So much had happened while she was gone, and Gwyn felt so disconnected from all of it.

A pang of longing shot through her as she slipped through the window, not bothering to open the door. There was no need. She wasn’t alone, either—Gwyn was well aware one of his shadows still trailed after her, likely at his direction. She felt it wrap itself around her throat, a reminder she wasn’t alone and hadn’t been since Eris had taken her.

He never should have.

The memory of the encroaching dark, of that voice, crept back into her memory. In the confusion of Autumn, Gwyn had nearly forgotten about it, but when she slipped from the dusty, empty room, she found herself terrified it still lurked. Gwyn felt the cold leech into her bones, moving through the shadows so silently it made her ears ring.

But she didn’t hear the voice, didn’t see the darkness. It was a relief, truly, given how badly she wanted to get home. All she wanted was to find Az, her books, and get back onto solid, familiar ground. Gwyn wanted to wrap her arms around him, bury her face in his neck, and breathe in deep.

Soon, she told herself, opening the door to what had once been her bedroom. The smell of stale blood slammed into her before she saw the utter destruction. Tables splintered, book pages scattered, her cipher still gone. She knew that was likely buried in the archives of Day, though it didn’t matter. The scholar hadn’t taken her book, though pages had been torn out.

Gwyn reached for the leather bound book, tucking it beneath her arm before looking toward the bedroom. Azriel wasn’t here, and if she had to guess, it was his blood she was smelling. His scent was still all over the bedroom, but the male himself nowhere to be found.

“He’s not dead, is he?” she whispered, pulling on that bond in her chest. Surely she would feel it if he was. She would know if he was suffering and in pain…wouldn’t she? Or would she only know if she accepted the bond?

His shadow slithered around her, reassuring her he was still alive somewhere. Gwyn imagined his shadows would cease to exist if he did, too.

“Come on,” she whispered, slipping back into the darkness. It seemed almost too easy, which set her on edge. Something had to happen—Gwyn simply didn’t believe coming back and escaping Autumn could be so easy.

But maybe it was. Emerie was still where Gwyn had left her, wings tucked tight against her body. They said nothing as Gwyn slipped back onto the balcony ledge, heart pounding so roughly it made her bones ache. They descended back to the beach where Nesta was waiting like an attack animal. Her whole body was taut, coiled like a spring and her eyes were more silver flames than blue.

“This way,” she murmured. Gwyn wanted to tell them no—that it was a mistake to follow this line of thinking, but curiosity won out. Whatever Nesta sensed was worth investigating, as Nesta wasn’t typically the aggressor in any situation. If Nesta felt like they ought to see what was happening, Gwyn was happy to follow after.

She wished, like her friends, she was wearing something more than the same blood-stained dress from that morning. As they walked, Emerie pulled out one of the twin blades strapped to her back and handed it to Gwyn without a word, the three forever, wordlessly in sync. They climbed the half sand, half spiky grass incline, unable to see their footing in the dark. Gwyn wondered what Nesta knew.

What had the wind whispered to her?

“There,” Nesta murmured when they were halfway up, nodding her head toward violent, orange flames. Gwyn’s heart sank when she saw what Nesta had already found—Beron Vanserra, flanked by his horrible sons, speaking to Gunnar the Horrible himself. They were too far away to be anything more than pricks in the distance, illuminated by the flames wreathed around Beron’s head.

Gwyn knew this was about her. Choking on the salt air, she wanted to run. Her joints felt rusty, stiff as Nesta crept closer, ignoring that once they got off the incline, there was nowhere left to hide.

“Can you hear them?” Emerie asked, but Nesta shook her head. Wisps of golden brown hair blew from the braid crowned around her face, brushed impatiently from her illuminated eyes. Nesta looked like an animal, some terrible predator right then, crouching low to try and see what they were doing.

They’d need to get closer.

It was suicide. They knew it. Nesta didn’t have the powers of a Death God anymore, though Gwyn had no idea what had been left behind. Enough to get them to the continent, and clearly more still given the way her eyes reflected the moonlight overhead. Emeries green siphons gleamed when she flexed her fingers, channeling whatever magic was inherent to Illyrians and set into the gloves on her hands. Unlike Azriel and Cassian, who bore seven, Emerie only had two.

Still, no other female in Illyrian history had ever worn one.

And then there was Gwyn, with her flame and her sword, both no match for a High Lord. Were they going to confront him? It was a deciding moment—the wind swirled around them, dragging their scent toward the Vanserra’s and betraying them before they ever made a conscious choice. She saw Eris’s head whip to the side, though his expression was impossible to read from a distance.

“If we’re clever,” Emerie whispered, rising to her feet with Gwyn and Nesta, “we’ll kill him before he has a chance to kill us.”

“How?” Nesta asked, taking another step closer, her mouth pressed into a thin line.

“A distraction,” Gwyn replied, eyes darting between their friends. “Don’t ask questions—there isn’t time, but I’m a Vanserra.”

Both her friends turned to look at her, mouths half open. “Surprise,” Gwyn added with a weak smile she wasn’t convinced they could see. “I’ll be the distraction.”

“Gwyn—”

“No time,” Gwyn replied, wishing the shadow could speak with her. It braceleted around her wrist for a moment before darting into the dark, a silent witness to either her triumph or her death. It was lunacy, truly, to hope this worked—in reality, she was more likely to see her friends casually killed before she was dragged back to Autumn.

Gwyn knew she’d never be able to show her face back in Night if they died. How could she look Cassian in the eye and tell him it was her fault his mate was dead? How could she ever face Azriel? She took a breath, hands clammy and cold as they finished their ascent toward the top of the cliff face. Gunnar was gone, at least—that left the High Lord, his sons, and the Heir apparent to contend with. Hardly good odds, but better than if they also had a king and the consolidated power of seven High Lords bearing down on her, too.

They moved toward the Vanserra’s, ignoring the way none of them had pulled out a weapon. They didn’t need to, truly—Beron could set them all ablaze from the inside out before they had time to take three steps. Distraction, she reminded herself, though Gwyn had no clue how to go about it.

It would come to her, she decided. As long as she could keep his eyes on her and not her friends.

Beron Vanserra stood on the edge of the cliff where sand no longer met the sea. Instead, the violent waves crashed viciously against the basalt, dragging little bits of rock back out each time. How long before the sea chipped away at the wall, taking the horrible palace with it?

“Didn’t make it far, did you?” Beron sneered, igniting the darkness around them with a casual flick of his fingers. “I would have thought you’d have crawled beneath the skirts of your stupid High Lady rather than risk returning.”

Gwyn shrugged casually. “I don’t think intelligence runs in the family.”

One of the Vanserra brothers turned their head, as if to conceal their amusement. Gwyn didn’t know what to make of that. Beron ignored her little jab, perhaps satisfied that she was only related to him by marriage and not blood. Did he think his wife was stupid, then?

“I told you to stay,” Eris interrupted, smoother than he’d been when he’d been whispering orders to her in the Forest House. “We would have made a clean exchange.”

“You still could,” Gwyn commented, bracketed by her friends. Nesta and Emerie were silent, inconsequential to the males that surrounded them. She knew they saw three females playing dress-up with swords, but they’d taken down Illyrian warriors better trained than the likes of which Autumn could provide.

“I could also kill you,” Beron said, eyes flickering between the three of them. “Your High Lord won’t notice the difference…if he’s noticed your absence at all.”

Nesta straightened her spine, causing the High Lord himself to take a half-step backward without thinking. She frightened him. Nesta knew it, baring her teeth in a feral smile that made all the males before them flinch.

“Come with me,” Beron began, ignoring the way the wind had picked up around them, half drowning his words in the water below. “I’ll…”

Nesta had inclined her head, a wide, terrifying smile spreading over her beautiful face. It wasn’t the wind, she realized, that was whipping around, but air from large, powerful wings.

Illyrian wings.

A moment later the ground shook as Cassian descended, terrifying in his power. Red siphons gleamed in the dark, flaring when he saw Nesta standing so casually a few feet away. He wasn’t alone. Gwyn wouldn’t have recognized that male with her eyes closed, hands tied behind her back. She knew the cold scent of him, the way his hair fell after he’d been airborne, how his left foot touched the grass mere moments before his left.

Azriel had come, the living embodiment of one of the death gods of old. In the dark, all she saw were blue siphons and hazel eyes even as the sound of Illyrian steel sang loudly.

“Beron,” Cassian said, strolling forward casually, as if this were little more than a social visit. Azriel, though, only looked at her, those cat-like eyes raking over her with lethal concern. She wanted to tell him she was fine.

She wanted to tell him a lot of things.

Instead, Gwyn ripped on the mating bond, deciding that there was no better time than when they were facing down a treasonous High Lord to force this knowledge on him. His eyes widened, nostrils flaring and oh. There it was. Recognition of what she was, which, in retrospect, was maybe not her best move.

Cassian was happy to play distraction, though as he came closer and closer. It occurred to Gwyn only then that Cassian and Azriel shouldn’t know they were here. How? She looked from her mate to Eris, who was studiously staring at his father with a deceptively blank face. Traitor, she almost said—but why betray him when this only helped her?

“The brutes have arrived,” Beron sneered, clearly unconcerned. “Where is the half-breed you call a High Lord?”

“Busy,” Cassian replied with a shrug of his powerful shoulders. No one would call Beron Vanserra small. He was nearly as tall as Eris, and about as muscular, too. But neither male had anything on Cassian, who towered over them easily and packed more muscle on his frame than both males combined. In a hand to hand fight, Gwyn imagined Cassian could crush them both with relative ease.

Eris’s gaze cut to Azriel, who slithered through the dark silently, wings pulled tight against his back. Beron hadn’t noticed the shadowsinger positioning himself defensively, a mistake he was likely to regret. They had a better plan, one that could be ruined and wrecked if Beron made a move toward Nesta.

If Beron made a move toward her. She saw the hunger on Azriels face, cold as a knifes edge as he prowled silently. His shadows trailed like smoke from his shoulders, occasionally obscuring half his face. What did they whisper?

What did he whisper in return?

“I don’t have time for this,” Beron said, turning those brown eyes back to Gwyn. “Walk away or I’ll kill all of you.”

Except the girl, those eyes said. Why was she so important to him? Kill me too, she wanted to scream! She didn’t dare, still standing before Beron.

Cassian pretended to think about it, his hazel eyes cutting toward Nesta only once, just to be sure she was fine. Satisfied by whatever words were silently shared between them, Cassian’s full, deadly attention. No one dared to move, terrified of the showdown. Could Cassian take on a High Lord?

Nesta shifted on her feet.

No.

“Why don’t you go home, and I’ll consider not telling the other six High Lords that you’re here,” Cassian replied, his voice taking on lethal quality. “This is treason.”

“It’s like they say,” Beron replied, nodding toward his terrible sons, “about dead males telling tales.”

He struck with brutal ferocity—it should have ended Cassian right then and there. He’d forgotten Azriel, who struck out with his elbow against Beron’s unguarded spine. The flames meant for Cassian arced, slamming into Nesta’s chest roughly. Cassian roared furiously, sword swinging through the air. It was treason itself to execute a foreign High Lord—the other six could demand Rhys hand Cassian over and face justice.

Cassian clearly didn’t care, his eyes wild with rage. Azriel has his swords out as well, taking on the three Vanserras while Beron turned to Cassian and Nesta. Gwyn and Emerie turned to help Azriel, but Eris had grabbed her, one arm rough around her throat.

“Help me and I’ll owe you,” Eris snarled in her ear, pressing his blade to her throat. “Help me and I’ll do anything you ask.”

Gwyn went still, the only thing she could do to communicate that she would help him. She still held Emerie’s sword in one hand, limp at her side as Eris turned her toward Cassian and Azriel. Everyone went still—quiet.

“I’ll kill her,” Eris swore, a laugh in his voice. “I don’t think anyone wants that. Right, Azriel?”

Azriel bared his teeth in response, blood dripping from a thin, already healing cut against his jaw.

“This is how things are going to go,” Eris said, taking a step toward the grassy ledge. “We’re going to leave and you’re going to let us or I’ll…” Eris mimed cutting Gwyn’s throat as Azriel threw out a scarred hand half hidden beneath his fingerless gloves.

Their eyes met and she saw the plain, unguarded fear of a male who knew he was about to lose something. And right then, Gwyn knew that Azriel had known they were mates far longer than she had. Her stomach churned at the realization, but she wanted Eris to owe her.

When it came time to deal with Monteserre, she needed Eris and there was no guarantee he’d help without calling in their bargain.

“Who knew Illyrians were so soft,” Beron taunted, clearly amused. Eris’s free hand slid down Gwyns arm, squeezing the wrist still holding the sword. She couldn’t see his face, though she could guess it was his usual smug, sneering expression meant to piss Azriel off.

“Is the threat against a female enough to stay your blade?” Beron questioned, turning his back to Eris and Gwyn so he could laugh at Cassian and Azriel. Cassian was on one knee, hand on Nesta’s back as she tried to catch her breath after the blow from Beron’s magic.

They would never have a better moment.

“Now,” Eris breathed. Was he aware of how Azriel’s eyes tracked her every movement? Was he aware of what she was doing?

I’m sorry, she tried to tell him silently, though the only thing Gwyn was truly sorry for was the grief her actions might cause him later on. Eris pushed her forward as her blade came up. Gwyn didn’t let herself think about what she was doing—she simply drove that sword directly into Beron Vanserra’s unprotected back.

The High Lord, still taunting Cassian with the flames licking his fingers, gasped. Eris stepped forward as his brother tightened their ranks. Gwyn saw one had a rather brutal cut running up his face, courtesy of Azriel.

Just for good measure, Gwyn twisted the blade before ripping it back out. In that moment, he wasn’t just Beron. He was the male who’d ripped her clothing to ribbon, the males who’d held her down, who’d laughed as they took something that did not belong to them.

Eris finished the job, grabbing a fistful of his fathers hair to crane his neck back so far Gwyn heard the bones groan. Eris murmured something in his father’s ear before removing his head from his shoulders in one clean motion.

No one moved save for Eris, who wiped the blood from his face with his otherwise immaculate jacket sleeve.

“Well,” Eris said, licking his lips. “This was fun. Remember what I told you, Gwyneth. We’ll be seeing each other soon.”

And then he was gone, vanishing in a pop alongside his battered brothers.

Nesta looked up, strands of long hair hanging from her braid as Emerie went to Gwyn, pulling her in a hug. Gwyn let her, heart racing.

“What was that?” Nesta panted.

“Doesn’t matter,” Cassian replied, hauling Nesta into his arms. “We need to leave. Now.”

Azriel ground his jaw together, eyes still pinning her in place. Gwyn felt herself shaking and right then, she didn’t think she wanted him to touch her. Maybe she didn’t deserve it.

Cassian murmured something to Nesta, cradled against his chest.

“I’ll take you home,” Azriel murmured to both Gwyn and Emerie. Nesta wouldn’t have the strength to take them all back—it would be a miracle if she didn’t drop Cassian over the ocean. Azriel hesitated, as if he wanted to put his hand on her before settling it on Emerie’s shoulder. Gwyn closed her eyes while his shadows swarmed, whispering in her ear that language she didn’t understand.

And when she opened them, she was home.

AZRIEL:

“Are you stupid?” Rhys thundered, eyes darting between Cassian and Az. Azriel winced, still miserable from his near escape. The bruised hadn’t healed, his wounds barking at him. Feyre offered him a pained smile, which wounded Azriel far more than Rhys’s rage. Rhys, at least, understood Azriel—this was just how he was, how he’d always been.

But Feyre had been tending to him when he’d felt Gwyn rip on the bond and Azriel had lied to her to get to Cassian, and then back to Montessere. The worst part was, Azriel wasn’t even sorry. Their eyes met for just a moment before Feyre looked away, unwilling to go against Rhys.

“A High Lord is dead—”

“Eris killed him,” Azriel said flatly. He’d go to his grave saying so, and if Eris tried to say differently, there’d be a third High Lord crowned in Autumn by the end of the week. Cassian didn’t react to Azriel’s words as Rhys’s face darkened.

“Don’t lie to me,” he hissed. “Don’t treat me as if you don’t trust me.”

“Why are you mad, brother?” Cassian asked, adopting a lopsided smile they all knew was covering his exhaustion. Like Azriel, all Cassian wanted to do was get up to the House of Wind and see his mate.

If Gwyn even wanted to see him. He recognized that look on her face—the place she went to when she couldn’t stop her own thoughts. She’d killed Beron and then he’d lost her, and Azriel wasn’t sure how to pull her back. For all he knew, she’d retreated back into the library where he’d never reach her.

The thought made his chest ache.

“I’m mad that you went behind my back to another continent and helped one of my priestesses slaughter another High Lord!”

“Eris killed him,” Azriel repeated.

Rhys pinched the bridge of his nose. “As you’ve continued to say since you stepped foot in my home and yet I can read your fucking mind, Azriel.”

Eat shit, he thought loudly, holding Rhys’s gaze. Rhys took one step toward Azriel before Feyre sprang up from her place on the leather sofa, hand pressed to his chest.

“This isn’t helping,” she snapped at her mate. “If Azriel says Eris killed Beron, then Eris killed Beron. I doubt Eris is going to contradict that story.”

“Because I have his mate—” Rhys snapped his mouth shut when Feyre threw him a look that silenced him. Before Feyre, Rhys would have lectured them all night and into the next afternoon, never tiring of the sound of his own voice. That thought drew Rhys’s eyes to Azriel’s face again, but he simply couldn’t bring himself to care. He needed to sleep.

He needed to see Gwyn.

“Let's regroup in the morning,” Feyre murmured, rubbing her fingers over her lips. “Shouting isn’t accomplishing anything.”

“I disagree. It’s making me feel better,” Rhys grumbled, but Azriel was already on his feet and halfway to the door. Cassian said nothing, though Azriel could feel his eyes on his back, the question half formed on his lips. He didn’t know what to say, in part because he still didn’t know why Gwyn had left him the morning before, and he didn’t know why she didn’t want to see him now.

Please be here, he begged before leaping into the air to take flight. The wind against his wings used to settle him—but now it felt like nothing at all, like going through the motions. Wracked with anxiety, Azriel let his thoughts run away. Was she angry she’d had to kill Beron to save them all? Did she regret the knowledge that they were mates? Did she wish for someone better, someone less broken, someone who could keep her safe?

Azriel was forever showing up after the worst had happened, useless to her and with nothing to offer. He’d imagined swooping in and saving her, protecting her from whatever frightened her. Instead he’d stood helplessly while Eris held a dagger to her throat, well aware that if he lunged, Eris would kill her before Azriel could stop him.

His feet slammed against the training pad hard enough to make his teeth rattle. Azriel shook out his hands to try and get them to stop trembling, but it was no use. If he waited too long, Cassian would arrive and he’d want to talk. Azriel had all but begged Cassian, using Nesta’s absence to get Cassian to help him without involving Rhys.

He’d sworn to explain it all when they arrived.

It was a few steps into the house, where oppressive, near angry silence greeted him. Azriel made his way through familiar rooms, ducking head inside each one to find only darkness instead. No Gwyn. She was nowhere to be found. He had no right to go into the library to look for her, and with a dejected sigh, knew he’d have to beg a favor off Nesta if he was going to talk to her.

It wasn’t a surprise, though. Deep down, he’d always known a mate would go this way, hadn’t he? It was what made wanting Mor, and then Elain, so easy—there was no danger in rejection. They’d already made it clear he’d never have them outside of his fantasies.

But Gwyn had been real, and for a moment she’d also been his.

Telling himself his memories were enough, Azriel made his way to his bedroom, pulling his shirt over his wings to throw it angrily at the wall when he stepped into the room.

“Smells like blood,” a soft voice murmured. Azriel snapped his fingers, igniting the faelights overhead, to find Gwyn half asleep in the chair by the window as she pulled his shirt off her face.

“And sweat. Have you stopped bathing, shadowsinger?”

She stood as he froze in the doorway, drinking her in. The freckles on her face seemed starker, her skin just a little too pale for his liking. But other than the exhausting shadowing her pretty eyes, she was otherwise unharmed.

Gwyn cocked her head, that cinnamon colored hair spilling over slim shoulders. Oh right—he was supposed to speak. Azriel took a half-drunk step, and then another and another, until he’d crossed the room. It had been his intention to hold her face in his hands, but his legs were shaking so badly he slammed to the ground, knees hitting the wood with brutal force. Azriel looked up, fisting the edges of her dress in his hands.

“I’m sorry,” he rasped, trying so hard to swallow the emotions rising through him. “Fuck, I’m so—”

Gwyn’s fingers were in his hair, nails dragging along his scalp. She was far more careful as she lowered herself to the ground—and it was her who took his face in her hands, forcing him to look at her.

“For what?” she whispered, teal eyes bouncing between his own. “You came exactly when I needed you.”

He shook his head. It wasn’t right to let her absolve him so easily. He didn’t deserve it. “I let them take you—”

“Stop it,” she whispered, mashing her thumb against his lips. “Eris Vanserra is a prick well outside your control.”

“Ask me to kill him,” Azriel mumbled, his words slurred beneath her touch. He didn’t want her to take her fingers from his mouth.

“It’s tempting,” she admitted as she ran her knuckles over his cheek. “I do love seeing you covered in blood.”

He laughed weakly, though he hardly felt better. “Are you hurt?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” she replied, frowning as she took one of his gloved hands in hers to examine his trembling fingers. How did he explain the source of his fear was her? That his every waking thought was plagued by her, that Azriel hadn’t had a restful night since he’d met her? “What happened?”

Azriel told her, watching her face grow paler and paler until he stopped himself entirely to try and soften her disappointment. He could have done better—he’d been sloppy, and he’d gotten caught.

“Can I…” she cocked her head to the side, looking him up and down. “Will you sleep with me tonight?”

He knew she was asking in an attempt to get him in bed, but Azriel was willing if she was coming with him. He nodded, afraid if he said anything he might give too much away. Was he a coward for not telling her everything? For not asking her about the one thing that mattered above all else?

He didn’t want to face her rejection. Not when she was taking his hand in hers and leading him to the bed. There was no grace to his actions as he tripped out of his boots, and then his pants. She’d seen him naked more than once, and yet this felt impossibly intimate, stripping to nothing before pulling a pair of sleep shorts up over his waist. Gwyn merely sat on the bed cross-legged, her eyes never leaving him.

“Sometimes it doesn’t feel real,” she murmured when he stood at the foot of his overly large bed.

“What doesn’t?” he questioned, realizing he’d never had a female in this bed before. It wasn’t technically his—it was merely the room he’d been utilizing since Nesta had been brought up, though he was terribly fond of it. When was the last time he’d had a female in his personal space at all?

Typically, Azriel preferred to go back with them.

“You,” she said, pulling him from his thoughts. “I keep thinking I’m going to wake up and it’ll all have been a really nice dream.”

Azriel had to grip the bed post to keep from falling on his face. “You think that?” he asked, certain he’d misheard her.

Gwyn nodded, biting her lower lip. “It doesn’t seem possible that I…that you…”

He was crawling up the bed, pulling her into his lap before she could finish that absurd sentence. Azriel pressed his mouth to her hair, breathing in the soft, sweet scent of her. “You could do better.”

Gwyn laughed loudly, twisting in his lap to look at him. “Oh, you’re serious. That’s embarrassing, Az, even for you.”

Azriel couldn’t look away—and he didn’t feel embarrassed, either. Didn’t she think that? She ought to.

“Gwyn,” he murmured, because he needed her to know, “you can walk away. You…maybe you should—”

Her fingers were mashed against his lips again, effectively silencing him all over again. “How long did you know? About us, I mean? About this?” She ripped on the bond, causing him to gasp slightly.

Was it better to tell her the truth or lie? He couldn’t tell what she wanted, her face unreadable save for the amusement in her eyes.

“A while,” he admitted.

She nodded her head. “And you didn’t think to mention this?”

He offered her a dry laugh. “I’m not a saint, Gwyn. I wanted to be around you.”

“I thought you didn’t know,” she told him with a pretty smile. “When I realized, I just assumed you were oblivious, but this whole time…weren’t you suffering?

Yes.

He shrugged, feeling defensive. “I would have waited longer. Five hundred years were nothing…I would have waited five hundred more.”

“What if I don’t want you to?” she asked, cheeks warming. Azriel’s heart raced at the implication. She wanted to accept? He’d been so focused on simply keeping her around, of making her love him, that he’d never allowed himself to get this far in his fantasies. Maybe he hadn’t dared, for fear of wanting it and then realizing he’d never get it.

Finally, Azriel took her face in his, lifting it as he swept his thumbs across soft cheeks. Real, this is real— “I love you.”

He’d never said those words out loud to anyone. He’d thought them in his head, had let his actions betray him, but he’d never once, in all the years he’d been alive, ever told anyone. He’d tried, once—and had been thwarted before he’d been able to finish.

Gwyn didn’t interrupt him, though. Didn’t bolt out of his lap or turn from him. She smiled, brilliant as the first rays of a golden dawn illuminating a violet sky. “Well, that’s lucky, because I love you, too.”

Fuck.

Nothing had ever felt better than hearing her reciprocate his feelings. Azriel exhaled the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, unaware that he was smiling too. Not, at least, until his cheeks ached from the prolonged effort, of the foreignness of smiling so freely, so easily.

“I can’t believe you didn’t know,” she whispered, the word trailing off in a soft giggle. “I thought I was so obvious.”

Embarrassed, Azriel only shrugged. He’d never been that good at reading people's emotions—at least, when it came to himself. “I thought you wanted to sleep,” he murmured, lips pressed to her head. “You should sleep.”

“I want to talk,” she admitted as he dragged them both down to the bed, tucking her against his chest so he could blanket her with a wing. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in years.”

“When I get my hands on Vanserra…”

Eris was going to finish what he started years ago during the High Lord’s meeting. He was going to destroy Eris’s pretty face before sheathing his dagger in the ventricles of the spoiled Autumn prince's heart. He’d take his time—make it painful, make it hurt.

“Don’t,” Gwyn said, tempering his desire for violence. “He was only acting on his father’s wishes.”

“He's always acting on Beron’s wishes,” Azriel snarled, not half as forgiving. “He could act against them, but he’s a coward.”

She sighed. “He owes me a favor of my choosing for helping him.”

“Tell him to kill himself,” Azriel said without an ounce of remorse. Gwyn twisted in his arms so he could see her roll her eyes.

“We’ll need him. Kai is dead.”

“I know,” Azriel whispered. “They think you killed him.”

Her eyes went wide, and whispering, Gwyn told him everything that had transpired. The whispering darkness, the flames, Eris coming to the rescue before betraying her. Azriel didn’t say a word as cold dread spread through him.

Whispering darkness…

“What did the voice sound like? Male? Female—”

“Male,” she said as he tried not to react at all. “And cold. Cruel.”

Kissing her temple, Azriel kept his thoughts far from her watchful gaze. He didn’t want to think about it, not right then. Not when she leaned forward, pressing her own lips to the hollow of his throat.

“I still want you.”

Fuck. All the air escaped him in one long, low breath. He wanted her too—so badly it made his teeth ache.

“If we start, I don’t think I could stop,” he admitted, ignoring the way his cock was responding in his shorts. It took almost nothing—a blink of teal eyes, a flash of a smile, a touch of her hand and Azriel wanted her pinned beneath him.

“What if I don’t want you to stop?”

Azriel exhaled another shaky breath. “Gwyn…”

“Are you going to make me beg, shadowsinger—”

Azriel couldn’t abide by it. Couldn’t listen to her ask him to give her the one thing he was constantly thinking about. Why was he denying himself when he knew both Cassian and Rhys would have never? He knew from experience, having lived with both and forced to witness not just the ungodly noises, but the smells that lingered for days.

And here he was, trying to be honorable. He kissed her, fingers sliding to her hair to grip tightly, to keep her from darting away. It wasn’t particularly gentle, though he hadn’t intended to be rough, either. He simply kissed her with the pent up emotion he’d kept leashed for so long.

Gwyn didn’t hesitate, one hand sliding around the back of his neck to hold him against her. Laying back, Azriel rolled over her as he half devoured his mate. It felt good, he realized, to think the words aloud. To know she knew, to be desired by her. All the years of waiting, of wondering—of assuming he hadn’t been granted one and never would be—evaporated beneath the soft pads of her fingers.

For the first time, Azriel wished he was eloquent like Rhys. He wished words came easy—the right ones, especially—and he could simply tell her what she meant to him. The depth of his devotion, the intensity of his feelings. Azriel had never been that kind of male and he didn’t think he was capable of change.

He’d never use poetry—he didn’t know how, to be fair. But he could show her. Somehow, given this didn’t seem the appropriate place to try and convey the depths of his feeling. Not when he was pressing his erect cock between her parted legs. Was it a bad time to tell her he loved her, too? It felt easier to say it when his tongue was in her mouth. Impatient, Azriel ripped at the neckline of her dress, causing Gwyn to gasp.

“That was nice,” she whispered.

“I hate it,” he replied, though in truth he had no strong feelings surrounding it. It was simply in his way. He wanted to see her all splayed out again.

Scratch that.

“I need to taste you,” he breathed, shoving at the ruined material until she managed to shimmy her way out of it. “I need you on my face.”

“On?” she squeaked, but he’d rolled them around, laying flat on his back with his wings splayed beneath him. Illyrians were wary of such a position and the danger it posed. If your wings were pinned, you couldn’t escape, couldn’t fight.

But this was his mate, and Azriel would submit to her. Only her.

Even if this was the kind of submission he daydreamed about day and night. Gwyn didn’t protest, utterly naked as he slid his body down the bed until his feet dangled off the edge so he could get his mouth beneath her cunt.

“Az—”

He wasn’t listening, though. This was all he needed—this would fix him. All his aches and pains could be soothed by the taste of her body. She fell forward, causing him to curl his arms around her thighs to keep her from squirming away. He realized, only in retrospect, that she was holding the edge of the headboard, head between her shoulders so she could watch.

Their eyes met for only a moment before hers fluttered shut, lips parted as she moaned softly. Pretty thing, he thought privately.

With her legs spread wide, Azriel didn’t need to use his fingers to make it easier to taste her. She helped, rolling her hips against his face as he licked the length of her over and over. He felt captive, held beneath her as she took what she wanted. It was too ambitious to hope she’d tie him up and continue to have her way with him, but maybe in the morning he’d convince her to use the rope he had coiled up in his dresser.

He’d teach her to use the right kind of knot, first, or he’d cheat and untie himself so he could touch her. He simply couldn’t help himself—she was so beautiful, so soft and he was so, so weak when it came to her. Azriel had promised himself to take care of her, and he wasn’t sure sitting her on his face so he could lick her cunt counted.

Still, she wasn’t complaining. In fact, she was moaning in that soft, sweet way of hers, unaware that his own cock was throbbing painfully, a bead of moisture rolling down his shaft. He wished he’d positioned her the other way so she could at least touch him.

Though, he wasn’t opposed to a little torture. Not if it came from her. What was a little more waiting, in the scheme of things?

“Az,” she whispered, threading her fingers through his hair. Her nails scraped along his scalp, drawing a breathless groan from his lips. Gwyn’s hips jerked and oh. Did she like that? Azriel did it again, delighted when she rolled rougher, pressed herself fully against him. She’d been holding herself up on her knees before but now she was all but seated. It took little effort from him to pull her the rest of the way down so his senses were engulfed.

This was how he wanted to die, he decided. When it was his time, he’d order the healer to press her naked body against his face so the last things he knew were of her. Her taste, her smell, her body—Gwyn, Gwyn, Gwyn.

Azriel let her chase her pleasure, turning himself into little more than a tool for her to use. If he’d reached down to stroke himself, he’d have finished before she did, a fact that would have once embarrassed him. Now he didn’t care—maybe it had taken so long with all those other females because he was simply waiting on her.

He half wished he’d waited, that they could have experienced this for the first time together. And the other part—the part that was more animal, more male, less rational—was grateful to have enough experience to know how to please her, to take care of her, to give her what she needed.

Azriel slid his tongue into her body, holding her tight while he mimicked what he was about to do with his cock.

Gwyn’s fingers tightened in his hair, tugging at his scalp. Her hips canted frantically and when he moved back to her clit, she cried out, thighs clenching so tight around his face that he could scarcely breathe.

He’d never been more aroused in his life.

As she rode out her orgasm, Azriel released his grip on her to pull his shorts to his knees, kicking them off gracelessly before sliding her down his torso. Her slick cunt left a trail against his skin, dampening the hair just beneath his navel.

“Fuck,” he panted when her fingers dug into his chest, hair curtained around her flushed face. “Kiss me.”

She leaned down, rubbing that pretty cunt against the shaft of his cock as she kissed him. Gwyn moaned when he fisted his fingers in her hair, claiming her with searing heat. Did she taste herself on his tongue? Did she like it the way he did? Azriel hoped so. He barely noticed the way she’d rearranged herself, too focused on the heat of her body touching his desperate cock, until he felt her line herself up with him.

Oh, gods. Azriel pulled away to watch her sink slowly down his shaft. It was the most erotic thing he’d ever seen in his entire life, causing vivid, white stars to explode behind his eyes. This was heaven and hell and wrapped up together. He felt brand new and ancient and old all at once.

Gwyn moaned once he was fully seated inside her.

“What have you done to me?” she whispered, brushing a kiss beneath his jaw.

“Nothing you didn’t ask for,” he replied, though he wasn’t certain that was true. Gwyn still laughed, pushing herself up until her nails were embedded in his pectorals. The little prick of pain was heaven, especially when she rolled her hips, dragging his cock along the tight, wet heat of her body. It was Azriel’s turn to jerk as though he were a puppet and she controlled the string.

“Is that what you like?” she whispered, eyes darker than he’d ever seen them.

“I like you,” he replied, reaching for her pretty, bouncing breasts.

“Yeah?” she replied, tossing her head back.

“And I love you,” he added, just in case she’d forgotten. Her skin was shimmering with soft, sweet light and he wondered if he was, too. He’d spent so long bathed in shadow that it was strange to have that moonlit glow fall over him, to feel seen even in the dark.

He was never going to be over her. How did Rhys and Cassian do it, he wondered? How did they go about their lives? Did the wanting fade? Or did they simply grit their teeth and leave anyway, mind always half occupied with their mate?

Azriel ran his hands down the soft curve of her body, cupping her ass cheeks, which nestled perfectly in the palm of his hand. Lifting her, Azriel decided he could do the majority of the work and still enjoy the view if he liked—and he did.

“Look at my pretty mate,” he whispered, trying the word out loud for the first time. “Look at how well she takes my cock.”

Gwyn let out a breathy moan.

“Is this what you like?” he asked, thrusting himself into her body. He was testing the limits of what she could take—how much, how fast, how rough. He wanted to build her into it, to hear her beg for more. They had time—more time than he dared to contemplate. There was no use in rushing her, making her feel unsafe or scared.

She’d felt that way for too long, besides. Azriel wanted to be her home. And if the world continued to try and harm her, they’d have to contend with him, first. And second. And third.

“Az,” she whispered, not answering the question. Moving one hand between her legs, Azriel began to tease her clit as he stroked, keeping himself steady even when his muscles began to groan in protest. He kept forgetting he’d been injured, that technically he had no business doing this.

Oh, well.

It was worth it, he decided. His body would heal, besides, and if nothing else, Azriel assumed he’d sleep like a baby when they finished. If they ever finished. He never wanted to remove himself from her body, wanted to live this way, her always flush against him, chest to chest, skin to skin.

“Are you going to come for me, pretty thing?” She only moaned in response. He could feel her body tightening around him, could feel the rush of heat that made his own sac tighten against his body. Azriel had to clench his ass to keep from coming first, his own arousal overwhelming. Pleasure was a beast, clawing at his throat as it demanded release.

“Please,” she whispered mere seconds before she came on his cock. Azriel lost it, his rhythm slipping to frantic, near animalistic jerking. He came a second later, blacking out his vision and eroding the remainder of his good sense. Nesta and Cassian almost certainly heard him, though Azriel didn’t care. After what they’d subjected him to, this was the least they deserved.

Azriel pulled her against him. “Again,” he murmured against her neck. She felt it, too—felt what he had the first time they’d been together.

Gwyn only smiled.

It was nearly dawn before Gwyn fell asleep, exhausted and worn out from his endless attention. She’d wake, and he’d have her again—and he rather liked the sight of her hair splayed over his chest as she slept on his shoulder. He wanted to stay where he was, but he couldn’t.

Careful not to wake her, Azriel rose from the bed they currently shared, slipped a pair of shorts over his hips, and made his way to the window at the far end of the room. His shadows, once scattered, began to slip in and swarm. Azriel took a breath, inhaling the crisp, mountain air.

“She heard the voice,” he whispered in that secret language, turning his eyes toward the rising dawn. “He spoke to her.”His shadows stilled for a moment before circling around him, silent for once. Azriel had never questioned where they’d come from—who might have bestowed the gift of the shadowsinger on him. It was so rare it was nearly undocumented—so few had ever had the power to call upon darkness the way he did. The magic was poorly understood, though Rhys had tried. They didn’t understand—was it the Illyrian in Azriel that made it possible, or some hidden Night Court lineage?

Azriel had never questioned it. Not until right then. “Do you know?”

His shadows tightened around him as darkness blurred at his vision. They were loyal to him—only him—but they knew.

“You know me,” that cold voice whispered. “I’ve been waiting a long time for you.”

Azriel slammed his mind shut, inhaling sharply through his nose. Turning his head, he found Gwyn still asleep in bed. He needed to talk to Rhys.

And he would.

Another day.

#gwynriel

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the-possum-writes · 1 year

Note

Hi! Could you do a Finn x Fem reader lemon? Maybe it could be with and inexperienced reader while finn already has some knowledge about it and shows her how to do it. Thank you! <3

[Finn with an Inexperienced Reader]

❥Character: Finn Mertens

❥Tags: NS/FW hc's, handj0bs, established relationship, fem!reader

❥Synopsis: Finn takes things slow with you but you convince him to teach you how he likes to be touched.

❥A/N: I was going through a writing block so there's no full smut but rather some handsy stuff.

❥Whether you've been dating for years or just a few weeks, if you tell Finn you want to take things slowly, he'll respect your wishes.

❥Only kissing and hugging, nothing more.

❥But that doesn't take away how startling it is when a kissing session becomes too intense, and just as you feel the warmth cling to your heart and stomach in a tightening squeeze, Finn pulls away from you and acts as if nothing happened, resuming whatever video game you were playing or changing the subject.

❥You know where babies come from and all that basic biology class, but you have yet to personally experience it and are kind of wary of unplanned pregnancies, that's why you told Finn you wanted to take things slow.

❥And he was okay with that, but it didn't stop the growing doubt since you know he's had past encounters with other girls before. "Is he getting frustrated at me cause I'm making him wait?" you'd start asking yourself.

❥Finn is a passionate and outgoing guy who pours his heart into everything he does, whether it's fighting monsters, reading comic books, or simply indulging in his favorite meals. And, given how much he adores you, you're filled with illogical guilt at the thought of preventing Finn from physically expressing his feelings for you.

❥You've already asked him directly. "Finn, are you mad that we haven't done couple things?"

"But we always do couple things."

"No I mean like, tier 15 stuff and all that."

"Oh... Not really.."

❥He's a straightforward and laid-back guy, so it didn't occur to you until lately when, on a day when you didn't feel confident, you pushed yourself to kiss him by placing your hand on his thigh and running it upward. Finn stopped you by holding your hand so he could ask you, "Are you sure you want to do this now?"

You try to kiss his neck while saying, "I know you've been dying to-," but Finn is insistent. If there's anything he's learnt from his previous relationship, it's to avoid diving into pleasures on a whim.

"It's not about what I want, I'm asking about you." His tone has changed a little bit, especially in light of your earlier question.

❥As self-doubt circles in your thoughts and seeps beyond your eyes, you choose to keep quiet, but Finn squooze-hugs you to his chest.

"We don't need to rush anything; I'm pretty happy with you so far. We can do those things when you don't have any more uncertainties in your lovely head."

❥"Alright, there's something I can teach ya but we have to keep our voices down. You don't need to take off anything so don't worry, we'll just be using your hands."

❥"But what if I do wanna do those things but I want to take it a small step at a time? Like when you taught me how to swim." you bring up.

Finn adjusts his hold on you, the two of you were in the middle of a movie night and are currently on the couch. Jake is already asleep and BMO is probably lurking around the treefort but he promised to not peep at you two during visiting hours.

❥Finn leans back on the couch's headrest, allowing you to rest on his thighs as he tells you."How about I give you a lesson in Finn-biology?" he chuckles."I can't say no to my favorite subject." you respond. Considering the stories and experiences you've heard from your close friends, you have only a rough idea of what he's considering, but you're nonetheless anxious, intrigued, and interested about it.

❥Finn starts out by smooching you, easing a bit of your nerves as he gently grabs your hand and lowers it down his chest until it reaches his groin, he motions for you to rub him through his shorts, feeling something grow underneath.

❥It's warm, really warm.

❥Finn raises himself from the couch to lower his shorts with his underwear, and you remain silent while watching his half hard dick peeking out from the confines of his baby blue trousers. You temptingly touch his head with the tip of your fingers, unconsciously wrapping more and more of your around around him until he finches a bit, pulling away at the discouragement. "It's okay, it just needs something slick." he assures you. At the mention of it you're unconsciously rubbing your thighs together upon feeling something getting wet downstairs, but you don't bring it up.

❥The attention has Finn squirming in his spot but he continues with the lesson.

"Give me your hand." he asks. When you do he purposely spits on his dick and guides your hand to smear it all over him, amplifying the prominent musky smell coming from him.

"It's sensitive here." he explains in short breaths, hearing his panting picking up the more you run your fingers over the underside of his shaft right where it connects with his pink gland.

❥Once you've gotten the hang of it, Finn releases your hand and lets you try a few more things. What if I squeeze here? What if I touch this tiny hole with my finger? What if I gently squeeze his balls? Finn struggles to form meaningful sentences any longer and is only able to utter things like, "Just like that," "That feels good," and "Wait not like that, there you go... Oh Glob..."

❥It's a hypnotic and undeniably sexy experience, watching him lose himself in his own pleasure to the point where he forgot the reason for this little lesson until he came all over your palm and soiled his own shirt in the process.

#finn the human x reader #finn mertens x reader #adventure time #reader insert #finn the human #adventure time x reader #finn mertens

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lemon-russ · 1 month

Text

A small inbetween due to popular demand- Cato needs to get The Talk (tm)

Poor Guillidad is at the end of his rope having to do this. But he's a better Dad than Emps so he grits his teeth and does it lol

taglist: @sleepyfan-blog @undeaddream @scriberye

Part 16.5/ ???

< previous || next >

Ao3 || Taglist request ||

Cato Sicarius x F!Reader

CW: Sex talks, just awkward father son time

Summary: Cato gets The Talk (tm)

word count: 1,171

Cato follows behind Guilliman while he does his rounds of checking in on the various machinations of the chapter. To keep him busy, the primarch told him. They walked through the hangar now, and Guilliman stopped by a gunship, giving it an admiring look over.

“These have improved.” He says with a nod to the stormhawk. “We didn't have these back in my time.”

Cato watches as Guilliman gets closer to inspect the craft, looking over it's interior admiringly.

Somethings been on his mind though, since he was spoken to in the primarchs office.

“My Lord, may I ask you a clarifying question…?” He asks, standing straight backed with his hands behind his back, trying not to look nervous.

Guilliman looks over his shoulder out the ship door from where he was inspecting the various control panels. “Of course, Sicarius.” He says, motioning for him to come in. The primarch sits himself at the pilots chair, and Cato reluctantly sits co-pilot.

The proximity would make this more difficult, but at least they weren't looking directly at each other.

“Earlier, when you said, well… the talk….” Cato starts, turning his attention to some controls to his side and flipping a switch back and forth.

Guilliman freezes, then slowly gives Cato a sidelong glance. “…You… require some guidance…?” He asks, clearing his throat.

Cato frowns, not looking his gene father in the eye. “Well- just a question- we are taught in our training and initiation that Astartes are… well, infertile.” He says nervously, fidgeting with some controls.

Guilliman's face grows pale. “They- they tell you that-” he makes a tired groan, rubbing his temple. “Oh, terra. That's… can I assume you've been… operating under this assumption…?” he asks in a strangled voice.

Cato grimaces, glancing up at Guilliman and giving a small nod. His primarch sighs a weary sound.

“Well, you're not. No astarte is.” He says as he bores holes in the controls with his stare. “This must be a… miscommunication. Astartes don't have families, because they're supposed to be celibate, and if they aren't, duty comes first. But that does not mean the inability to… well, create a family…” he attempts to sound like he's reading it from text, matter of factly.

Cato swallows hard. “Does… does that mean the Ambassador-”

Guilliman scrunches his face in disgust and holds a hand up to stop him. “No- no, not… necessarily.” He says in a pained voice. “How long ago…?”

Cato looks hard at the panel. “The first time was… about a week and a half ago…?”

Guilliman makes a noise, “First time? How- when did you get a chance- wait, weren't you on the run on a rebel planet-”

Cato slinks down in his seat as Guilliman's eyes grow wider in horror. “Sicarius, you did not!” the primarch gasps, “While you were being hunted by an army? What, in a dirty hidey hole somewhere?”

“I mean- it wasn't like… in the dirt….” Cato defends in a mumble, face growing hot. “I held her up and-”

Guilliman groans and holds his hand up again. “She could get infections, or who knows what else,” he says, rubbing his palms down his face. “Okay, it's fine, she seems fine- I'll need to institute a sex-ed class for the whole chapter, it's fine” He grumbles.

Cato frowns, swallowing a nervous lump in his throat. He didn't mean to make her sick. He was immune to almost all disease and infection, it never crossed his mind that a baseline human could get sick from something so trivial.

“Did you…” His gene Father shifts awkwardly in his seat. “Did you, you know… do the riskier things…?” He forces out, unable to look at him.

Cato turns a little so his back is more toward Guilliman, playing with more switches, shoulders tight and raised nervously. “Y-yes.” He admits. “Is she… you know…” he mumbles, voice thick with worry. He heard that baseline women die when they give birth sometimes. Or die from being pregnant. So many things apparently can just kill a little baseline, now even sex?

Guilliman lets out a deep sigh. “Not necessarily.” He frowns and studies Cato, curled on himself anxiously. He squeezes his eyes closed and rubs his temples. “Alright, we're just going to cut straight to it.” He says, steeling himself and sitting up. “I'm going to explain all of this to you, answer your questions, and then I never want to talk about what you and the Ambassador do together ever again.”

A couple hours later, they leave the Hangar. Cato with a little more confidence in his step and smiling, Guilliman looking haggard, like he'd just returned from a months long campaign.

Cato now was an expert in the ways of sex, grilling his gene father for information for two hours straight. Now he understood everything- the Ambassador won't die, they have medical technology to handle things. He also learned he should not be taking her in dirty caves or in natural water like the hot springs- hearing what they did in natural hot springs and sand made Guilliman immediately order a full check up for the ambassador- but it's alright, he knows better now.

He smirks to himself. He can't wait to be allowed to go find her so he can use all his new knowledge on her, show her that he was a sex expert now. Of course he wouldn't flaunt that the information was new. He was Cato Sicarius. He was always the best at everything, of course.

There was one thing Guilliman told him that he was thinking he wasn't a huge fan of. How to not get her pregnant. He'd have to medicate her, or finish outside of her- not even a possibility in his mind- or use an annoying plastek like glove.

He smirks to himself. Now that he was an expert on all things reproduction, he is capable and qualified to make his own choices on the matter. And he thinks maybe the Ambassador would look cute all round. And she's good at handling things, doing her job with a child would hardly hold her back. Plus, He'll be forcing his way into a lot more of her body guarding roles, so if they had a child, he'd be there, and they'd both be totally safe.

Yes, he decides, working so hard to avoid it sounds like nonsense. It wasn't a guarantee anyways. So, might as well enjoy her fully. Sure, Guilliman would be annoyed with him, but he's been annoyed with him a lot recently, and things still were going great for him.

He'll just take the slap on the wrist if anything happens. Plus, He’s Cato Sicarius. He’s the best at everything. Everything includes fathering babies and caring for his little Ambassador, he assumes.

#my work #wh40k fanfic #cato sicarius #cato sicaruis x f!reader #cato x diplomat fic

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nieceeee · 10 months

Text

“WHERE TO NOW?”

PS: babydaddy!eren and y/n have been distancing themselves from one another. Eren wants to be with her but feels like her heart is in another place…or with another person. He and the boys discover exactly what’s going on as he is babysitting one night…

A/N: Angst, tension, fluff for the most part. Cussing, mention of the name babydoll. This is really for a 3 part series so don’t worry there will be plenty of lovey doves stuff towards the end if y’all want it. The other parts will be a little bit longer than this one. I had to play with your emotions before playing with your….nevermind. ENJOY!

W/C: 2.4K

PREVIOUS FICS TO READ: She’s Not Yours (its probably best to read the Eren playlist…if you’ve read them all, see if you can find the references from the previous fics in this one)

“You look amazing, baby doll.” His voice said from behind you, sending a chill down your spine. You took a deep breath to shake the nerves before you lifted your eyes and stared through the mirror at his. “Thank you Rennie.” You say with a soft smile. Things between you two had been…decent. Weeks after that very dramatic day that started with a bloody nose and ended with his ex hearing beating down yo block, time had seemed to blur together. Eren, freaking out about the entire situation, went back to try and talk to her, hoping to smooth things over which also led to another breakdown from her and him consoling her. And even though he admits nothing happened, the simple fact that he was there for her was something you couldn’t stand. And that alone had you questioning so many things. I mean you weren’t together and neither were they so why does who he has a connection with bother you so much. He said even though they weren’t dating at the time, he didn't want her to feel disrespected and assume you called her intentionally. You understood the sentiment although you didn't give a damn about what she assumed. But because of that, you were at a stand still not only with Eren but with your own emotions as well.

You both (more you than him) decided it would be best to give each other some time to figure out what you wanted to do when it came to the complications revolving around your relationship. Yes, the feelings were there but there was also a lot of unhealed trauma and damage that each of you needed to figure out. Eren wanted to be with you, he knew that without a doubt. The constant back and forth and the fallout of his other relationship taught him a few things and it was in those moments where he realized that you were the only person for him. His first real love, his best friend, the mother of his child. He couldn’t see himself being with anybody else again.

Unfortunately for him, you had other plans. You needed more time to sort through your feelings. The consistent pestering in your mind of what happened every time you had tried to make it work with him before would always rear its ugly head and you’d have to face the reality. No matter how much you wanted it to work, things with you and him were too complicated and with a baby in the mix, it was too much to lose. You were so sure about this but for some reason when you called him over to explain it, you had an wave of uneasiness in your belly. But you stayed the course, expressing to Eren that it wasn't a good idea for you all to jump back into a serious relationship after so much mess had happened. Did he understand? Hell no. Why is he okay to sleep in your bed but not enough to be your man. His heart shattered in pieces when you told him you wanted to keep it friendly but he wouldn't show it on his face. Not in front of you. He wanted you to know he respected your backwards ass decision.

So it seemed like you were back at square one, coparenting and some relationship that bordered between ‘my man my man my man’ and ‘oh we are just friends’. Granted none of your other male friends know how you taste, how you moan when your clit is sucked on, and how to hit that sweet spot that you could only reach when he has you pressed into the mattress, fingers splayed out on your back as he… “No.” you say verbally. It wasn't the time for that, not now or anywhere in the near future. You had made the decision and you had to stick beside it. But you knew that you had to get him out of your head. So you distanced yourself as much as you could, only allowing parental visits and no late night stays. No personal phone calls outside of communication about your son. Nothing to give any indication to the feelings you worked so hard on burying.

Eren hated it.

He hated every lost moment. He hated not being able to touch you. He hated waking up in an empty bed. He hated the way that you would stand on the other side of the room when he came to pick up his baby. It was exhausting but he stayed. It was another night out for you. Eren had come over to babysit and you were just finishing up getting ready when he stepped into the doorframe. You swipe the nude butter gloss over your lips once more, pressing them together to distribute the color when your eyes caught the piercing green ones burning into your skin. You both held each other’s gaze for a while, emotions mixed with arousal building underneath your skin. You forced your eyes to shift back down to your vanity, busying your hands with cleaning the space in front of you. Eren smirked behind you, shifting from leaning against the doorframe and placing his hands on the frame above. “So, you all set to go?” He asks you. “Uh, yeah I think so. I just have to grab some shoes.” You say getting up and walking over to your closet.

You look around at your shoes to find a pair that went well with your multicolored satin dress. The beautiful green, brown,and cream colors blended into a perfect gradient in the fabric and the straps fell gently off your shoulders. You looked down at your choice of cream colored shoes before reaching down and picking up the tie up stilettos, steering clear of the red bottoms. Eren noticed and held back his grin, thinking back to the last time you asked him to pick your shoes for you over FaceTime.

“Okay, all set.” You say, this time actually being ready. “Okay, he should be waking up from his nap in about 2 hours and there are plenty of bags of milk already thawed out. You went over the breakdown for the night, running him through the routine he already knew like the back of his hand. Eren knew you were doing it more so as a checklist for yourself so he allowed you to ramble. “Good?” You say finishing your last thought. “Yeah, all good.” You nod gently and make your way to the door. “Oh, Would it be cool if the guys stopped by later? They asked about lil man but I wanted to make sure you were okay with them being here first.” Eren asks. “Yeah, Ren of course. You know I don't mind them being here.” You say brows pulling together slightly. He shrugged his shoulders from the bottom of the stairs. “Just checking. Have fun.” Your lips part to say something but words seem to get lost. Eren keeps his eyes casted towards the floor, not having the strength to look up and see you leave.

“Eren…” you start but he shakes his head. “Go enjoy yourself babydoll.” You press your lips together then turn and walk out the door.

“YO! We here.” A voice calls from the door. Eren rolls his eyes. “You know you could just knock right?” He says to Ony as he opens the front door. “Where’s the fun in that?” He laughs before dapping him and walking inside. “Whats up with you bro? You good?” Connie says as they come through the doorway and walk towards the living room. “Now why you ask the man that. You know he down bad right now.” Armin teases plopping down on to the reclining chair close to the tv. “Oh so y'all got jokes now? Do we really want to have it out?” Eren says matter of factly. “It’s okay bruh, we know you down bad for your girl.” Ony laughed. “Right and how is that best friend relationship treating you?” Eren teases back. Connie and Armin bust out into laughter. “See that’s different, you actually had a relationship with your girl.” Ony groans slumping down into the seat.

“Okay, okay but all bullshit aside E, how are you doing with all this?” Armin turns, giving him his attention. Eren took a moment. “I-…not good man.” He admits to his friends. “I don't get it. Y’all have always been in this space right? So what’s the difference between then and now.” Connie questions. “The difference is she’s talking to somebody.” Eren says softly. The room seemed to stand still at his confession. “What do you mean ‘talking’? Like the same guy?” Armin sits up, his stare intense. This was new for all of you. As long as you and Eren had been together, the guys have always been there. Even through the breakups you would never find yourself in another relationship. Fucking around was different but being committed to any guy besides Eren was not your thing.

Until now.

“I mean the past few date nights has been the same guy. I know I tripped out the Jean situation but they were just fucking. This ‘Reiner’ dude or whoever he is, she’s dating him man. Like sending flowers and love notes, brunches, and day trips type of shit.” Eren groans “Oh shit…” Ony whispered under his breath. “Yeah, exactly.” Eren’s shoulders slump slightly as he shook his head. “Well, E it might just be a phase. Don’t give up on it bro. If you work hard enough at it things have a way of sorting themselves out.” Connie says collecting stares from around the room. “What?” He says confused. “When the fuck did you get some common sense?” Ony asks. “Yeah, that’s my role.” Armin retorts. Eren begins to chuckle which turns into a full on laugh out loud followed by everyone else. “Man fuck yall. I’m just trying to help my boy out.” Connie tries defending himself through the noise.

The sound of baby whimpers from the monitor pulls Eren’s attention. He stands up and walks back up the steps towards his son’s room. He sat up in the crib rubbing his chunky fists into his eyes. Eren walks over and lifts him carefully from the bed, adjusting him and holding him against his hip. “What’s up little man. You all good? Daddy’s here.” He cooes. His son tilts his head up, sleep still in his eyes and offers his daddy a gentle smile. “Yeah, daddy’s here. Come on let’s go downstairs and see your uncles.”

“Aw man there go my lil homie.” Connie says as Eren comes back downs he steps. “Man he don't even like you. You know I'm his favorite.” Ony speaks getting up from the couch. They follow Eren into the kitchen as he takes out a few bags of the breast milk you left to warm up. “Y’all doing all that talking but yet I’m the goddaddy.” Armin smirks, slipping around the counter and grabbing the baby from Eren. He giggles, reaching out and squeezing Armin’s face. “Man, he looks just like Y/N. It’s still crazy to think yall got a baby together.” He says, shaking his head. “I know right. I still can't believe it myself sometimes.” It was true. Eren looks down at your son again and his chest swells with pride. It was so surreal to have something that was created from him and the person he cared for the most. As they sit around and conversation Eren takes the time to warm up the milk, grabbing his phone from his pocket. A text message dings from an unknown number.

He pulls up the attachment sent to his phone. “What the fuck…” his eyes squint as he stares down at the video loading before him. “What. The. Fuck?!” Eren says a little louder, catching the attention in the room. “Yo E, you good man?” Ony asks. Eren’s ears started to ring as anger swirled through his veins. His chest rose and fell rapidly. “Eren, talk to us man, what's going on?” Connie says. “Aye Min, can you put him in his playpen with the bottle please.” Eren strains, trying to keep him composure around his son. Armin nods quickly working to get the baby and setting him in his safe area. “Okay, what’s up?” He says as he walks back into the kitchen. Eren sits his phone down and slides it across the counter to his friends. They hovered around the screen and watched as you made out against a car outside of the restaurant. Reiners hands sliding all over your body as he kisses your lips and down the side of your neck. Your giggles fill the air as your hands slip up to the back of his head.

“Oh shit.” They say in unison before looking back up at Eren who was pacing across the floor. His vision began to blur as his fists clenched and unclenched. “E, you got to chill bruh. You can't overreact on this one. Come on.” Armin says in a calming voice. “Yeah E, you got to breathe man.” Ony reassures him. “I know. I know, man. FUCK, I know. I just-…” He didn't know what to do. Eren swipes his hands down his face as the burning behind his eyes intensifies. There was a silence that swept through the air. A heavy silence that was filled with uncertainty and fear. Eren had never felt this feeling of unease before. Not with you. But the fear of what this meant for you both. Is this the end of you and him for good? The nerves cause his emotions to overwhelm him as he slumps down to the floor. Armin, Connie, and Ony come and sit down next to him. No words could explain but they stayed with him, allowing him to process everything.

“What am I supposed to do man?” He asks no one in particular. “Do what you can. One day at a time.” Armin says. Eyes shifted up at the ceiling until the burning went away. He took a deep breath. Judging from the angle of the video, he knew you knew nothing about being recorded. So the only things on his mine were, who the fuck was following you and how was he going to face you when you got home…

#aot x reader #aot x y/n #fem!reader #baby daddy eren #eren aot #eren x reader #eren x black reader #eren yeager #aot fluff #eren x black fem!reader #eren jaeger #eren x you #nieceenotes

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mint-flavoredd · 3 months

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Helluva Boss + SPY x family crossover inspired by Laviko_weid drawing on Twitter!!!!

I have so much fun thinking of the character dynamics and the fun added bonus of all of them being from Hell. (This is a world where there is a problem of hellspawn migrating to Earth, and the government is working with Hell to purge their world of secret Hellborn residents)

Stolas

Stolas ran away from the throne and his arranged marriage WITH his grimoire when he was 23, fleeing to the human world to start over. (Meaning Stolas is much more accustomed to ‘real life’ than canon Stolas. Still love them both tho)

Due to not using a crystal and instead uses sheer magical will that Stolas stays in human form, he finds it difficult to keep his eyes constantly changed, so opts to just keep his eyes closed. This doesn’t limit him at all, and he can see perfectly fine with them shut. However, if feeling intense feelings, especially if sudden, he forgets or just doesn’t care to keep them shut.

Stolas became an assassin at age 25, finding an odd sense of belonging to the profession. A control he never felt in his previous life. But as the years passed, Stolas became increasingly worried about being found out by the government. Most likely he wouldn’t be executed, but at this point, he has grown fond of his life on Earth and is making no plans on returning to his loveless marriage or royal duties back in Hell.

Blitzø

During the Circus fire, the fire had spread to nearby trees and buildings, including a building that was owned by a dangerous gang in the area, the fire killing a solid number of important gang members. For years they had hunted Blitzø, and while trying to escape them one day, Blitzø landed himself inside of a jail cell, meeting Moxxie in the process. After breaking out, they both decided it would just be safer to leave Hell all together.

Blitzø steals Veroskia’s (how to spell??) crystal and gives it to Moxxie then proceeds to steal himself one by sleeping with a succubus. They flee to earth. Blitzø is 22 at this point.

He found himself hating that hellspawn are hunted on earth (the whole point of going to earth was to be able to live without that fear of being prey) he attempted to become an assassin, however, Moxxie went into spy work and was easily persuaded since he thought it was the next best thing because you got to dress up AND you got to shoot people.

(Blitzø is a great spy because he is unpredictable and spontaneous- definitely a different kind of spy compared to Twilight.)

(Millie is human in this AU, Millie is that one coworker, Camilla, Moxxie is Frankie. These two are married, don’t question it)

Octavia

Octavia’s egg hatched a week after Stolas had left. (Stella had kept the egg a secret from Stolas, wanting to not constantly be pestered by the owl demon)

Stella was set to be wed to another Goetia, and she didn’t want to bring the owlet from her first marriage that failed spectacularly over to her second one. She wasn’t close enough to the newly hatched bird to be bothered. But It couldn’t get out that a Goetia had been given up to the streets of hell, and Stella didn’t want this girl to be unfairly exploited or raised improperly for being a Goetia, especially when she looked so much like her father already. Stella manually transformed Octavia into her human disguise and handed her off to a succubus who she had paid handsomely and instructed her to be handed off to a family who could take care of her. Unfortunately, Octavia had been handed off to demon obsessed lunatics.

At the age of 4, they had Octavia read a spell that they had no idea what it did. She had the magical ability to cast it, but she had the reading ability of a four year old and she was attempting to read a language she had been taught second hand by people who had taught themselves how to read it. It didn’t go great, she passed out in the process, however, when she awoke, she was granted the gift of telepathy.

Stolas and Octavia are both unaware that she is his actual blood related daughter, but it’s constantly mentioned by other characters that they look much more related than Blitzø and Octavia do. But it’s late to change the story now!

When the show starts, Stolas is 28, Blitzø is 25, and Octavia is 5

Also also Loona is Bond, the future seeing dog.

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carriesthewind · 3 months

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I can't stop thinking about the notes on this rage-bait post about To Kill a Mockingbird.

Some of it is the sheer number of people falling for the bait and believing that the school district in question banned the novel:

But there's also this...tone to so many of the notes that I find fascinating. And I think two sets of comments illustrate why:

Every time I look at these tags I feel like there is something more to unpack. If I am being kind of flip, I can roll my eyes at someone "sigh[ing] at the lack of reading comprehension" while falling for outrage bait.

But more seriously, I feel like this comment is completely right about needing to be uncomfortable and leave sterile environments in order to grown and change...but that comment exists in the context of the writer being so deeply uncomfortable at the mere idea that an over 60 year old book will no longer be taught to some children that they completely fail to interrogate the underlying story. There's a failure to take the next step. It's possible the writer was uncomfortable when they first read the novel, but to quote a tag I didn't capture here, it's "one of [their] favorite books." The book doesn't make *them* uncomfortable at all. The writer is not willing to interrogate that the school district might have had good reasons for switching the book out of the curriculum. Instead, they assume that the reasons are because "people don't understand" the book - the writer "see[s] what they look for."

I love To Kill a Mockingbird. (Hell, I'm one of those white future-public defenders who read the book and saw the movie and watched Atticus with my soul in my throat and, while I was not directly inspired by him, he resonated with a deep part of me.) It would be an uphill debate to convince me to remove it from a teaching curriculum - but then again, I'm not in charge of any teaching curriculum and have zero relevant expertise. I've read now a number of different articles and reactions to this incident, and the reactions rarely have anything to do with the reality of what decisions were made and why. You have to jump through numerous links to find what appears to be the original parent complaint:

Yolanda Williams said she found out that students were saying the N-word and laughing in the classroom, and it was offensive. “Students were laughing out loud at the teacher’s response. That’s unacceptable to me,” she told the board. “Is there not a better way to teach about that era and the horrors of that era, other than having kids laughing in class when the N-word is said? It should not be required reading for all students. My child shouldn’t have to sit in that class like that.” “It’s not a conducive environment,” Yolanda Williams said. “It’s not just the book, but supplemental material that had the N-word.

(How much do we value, how do we weigh, one way of learning about the history of racism, against the pain of a black child? Whose comfort are we willing to sacrifice, and for what?)

The second comment I come back to is much shorter, but I feel like it's where everything fell in to place for me:

Were the people made uncomfortable by the book white people? How many of them? I don't know for sure - although I know at least one of the parents, as quoted above, was black - and neither do any of the commenters.

Why do we read "people" and see "white people?" And in a way, I'm asking a rhetorical question - because of course we do, because the tweet is set up that day. And, even more so, of course we do - because the people the book is for are white people.

To go back to the previous comment, the one I can't stop unpacking: the writer quotes a famous line from the book, "You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view...until you climb into his skin and walk around in it."

And yes, I love this quote.

But.

To Kill a Mockingbird was written by Harper Lee, a white woman.

The narrator of the book is Scout, a white child.

The hero of the book is Atticus, her white father.

The embodiment of the theme, the person whose skin Scout tries to step into, is Boo Radley, another white man.

Do you remember, the man who was murdered? Do you see him in that picture at the top of the post? How long does it take you to remember his name?

When do we step into his skin? When do we walk around with his perspective?

I love To Kill a Mockingbird. But if a school district wanted to teach a book to embody this quote, aren't there so many better ones?

Another commenter on the post appears to have actual lived experience with this book being removed from the teaching curriculum.

#to kill a mockingbird #usual disclaimer: please don't try to find any of the people whose comments I quoted #they were reacting to the screenshotted tweet in the way that the tweet was designed to provoke

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berriweb · 1 year

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╰┈➤ ❝ GRAVEYARD SHIFT SHENANIGANS ❞

: ̗̀➛ ft. johnathan ohnn (the spot) x gn! reader

: ̗̀➛ warnings. y/n is strapped, johnny gives second hand embarrassment

: ̗̀➛ note. if you were the one getting robbed instead, i didn’t proof read this so if you saw a typo no you didn’t

only the restless and the crazies are awake at 3 am, and the only thing that those have in common are that they both have nothing better to do with their time. what does that make you?

The streets were quiet.

If you were lucky, every so often you’d hear the sounds of a car speeding down the road (likely well above the speed limit) or groups of people shouting and ranting while searching for a cab or an Uber after a long night at the bar across the street. It was rare, however, and you were more often than not left alone with your own thoughts to drown out the sounds of the fluorescent lights above you buzzing unnecessarily loud and the quiet pop songs playing on repeat from the speakers mounted in the ceilings.

Anyone else would run from the idea of being left in such a dull and lacking environment, but for you the nights spent sitting idly behind the counter waiting for the rare human interaction was necessary to keep your lights on and your ass out of the streets.

When you’d first heard the corner store was looking for a new employee to work the graveyard shift after the last worker quit due to a recent attack from a rouge villain that left him too paranoid to run the store alone, you were heavily against the idea despite your friend’s insistence that it was good money and she knew you needed it after hearing your previous complaints about your current job not being enough to cover both your bills and your meals. Knowing how prevalent crime could be, especially considering the part of town you lived in, who in their right mind would accept that job offer?

Luckily for you, you didn’t seem to be in your right mind. After a few convincing words and a quick interview with the grouchy owner of the store, you were welcomed with somewhat open arms and after two weeks of half assed training, you were successfully spending nearly all of your nights running the corner store after the sun went down.

Now it’s been two years, and as much as you love the security you feel knowing that you’re good at what you do, it can tend to get a bit boring on quiet nights.

You’d take the silence over the nights where you’d get visits from shady men coming in to withdraw a questionable amount of money and drug addicts who’d harass you for a few dollars to get a fix or were just completely off their rocker.

To make up for the lack of entertainment, you popped in an earbud and put on a podcast to drown out your thoughts, mindlessly flipping through the same magazines you’d been looking through for the last 4 hours of your shift. At some point celebrity drama had become more boring than the silence so you resulted to working on the puzzles and mind games on the back, so consumed in a sudoku game that you almost didn’t notice the sound of the scratching of metal and the small rusted bell jingling as the door to your store creaked open. As soon as it registered, you set the book down, sitting up, alert and ready as you eyed the new customer who had the pleasure of gaining your attention for the next few minutes they’d been in.

If there was one thing your shitty training had taught you it was to keep an eye out and be observant, more often than not the creeps came out at night and the last thing you wanted was to end up on the news with a bad id picture because you didn’t notice a man entering the store with a gun cocked and ready.

As a result, you’d gotten pretty good at profiling some of your customers and taking note of things that most people normally would pay no mind too. This man was no different.

Your alarms went off the moment he walked in, but you weren’t exactly sure which red flag set it off. Maybe it was the way he was dressed, in a big blue brown coat covering most of his upper half with the collar popped to hide his neck, topping it off with a brown bucket had covering most of his hat and what you thought were sunglasses. Maybe it was how you couldn’t tell what the glasses were due to his head being tilted down and his gaze locked on the floor and his own two feet. Or it could’ve been how you couldn’t get a good look at his bottom half aside from what you believed were black spotted white pants due to how quickly he scurried to the counter, his entire body tilting under your gaze as he seemed to be really shifty and refused to meet your eyes.

The only physical feature you could really make out about the person was that they were really, really pale and just from your angle you could tell he was a decently tall man.

“How can I help you?” Were the first words you chose to utter to him, trying to get an idea of what he wanted and why he seemed to be so nervous and fidgety, outlined by the way his hands messed with the hem of his coat.

“I- um,” he cleared his through, and you could sense the nervousness in his voice. His tone was light but held weight like he was hiding something or was guilty of something worse, “where is your restroom?”

What were the odds that he actually had to go? You’d had your fair share of people with the same mannerisms asking for the same thing and majority of the time they were using in the restroom, leaving you to pick up after the mess of tissue and needles, or worse, they’d leave behind, but something in your gut told you that wasn’t the case, and you couldn’t refuse him service based on a hunch.

Reaching behind you without taking your eyes off the man, you opened a drawer and pulled out a rusted keychain, clearing your throat and holding it out for him. “In the back, first door on your left, try not to make a mess,” you instructed and nodded your head towards the open corner in the back of the store.

With a small thank you, the unknown man quickly snatched the key from your grasp and made his way to the back with haste, though not without you notice the strange texture of his skin for the brief moment your fingers touched, and not without him eyeing the ATM machine he passed on his way back.

What was his deal?

A few minutes had gone by since he went to the back. You’d paused your podcast and sat silently, your gaze constantly shifting from the front doors to the back as you waited for him to reappear. Your negative attitude might have been uncalled for, he may have just been a regular guy who stopped at the first place that had an available bathroom, but you knew better than to be that hopefully. Moments later after you’d returned to your magazine, you heard a door open and footsteps, followed up by buttons clicking and pointed beeping noises. When you looked back, he was out and standing in front of the ATM, hesitantly pushing buttons.

You couldn’t tell if he was trying to make himself seem busy on the machine or was really anxious about pulling money. It could’ve been the case that he was taking out a lot for something that wasn’t exactly legal. Drugs, a sex worker maybe? It was none of your business, so long as he kept it out of your store.

You turned back to your magazine to avoid him noticing your constant staring, but about a minute later you perked up at the sound of a loud screech, silent curses and the sound of loud banging. Your senses heightened as you turned around again in your chair, and it took a moment to process the sight in front of you. The man had managed to climb on top of the machine, or at least that’s how you assumed he got up there, jumping up and down on the machine in a hurry. It was hard to piece together until you realized that the machine was now halfway through the ground, courtesy of a large black gaping hole that you were certain wasn’t there before. What the hell?

Your hand reached for the drawer under your register faster than you could process, being far too use to this drill. Your hands searched the drawer without your eyes leaving him before pushing it closed after discreetly pulling out your weapon. It wasn’t often that you needed the gun, but it’s better safe than sorry.

Quietly, you stood up from your chair and left from behind the counter, sneaking up on the man by tiptoeing through the aisles. Assuming he was a criminal, he wasn’t very good at keeping an eye out as he hadn’t noticed you creeping up on him from behind until you were mere feet away and turned off the safety, raising your arms with it pointed at his head. Unnecessary? Maybe, but you weren’t dumb enough I charge unarmed, not if he could be a serious threat.

“Freeze!” Yikes, maybe that was too officer-ey? Your tone was assertive, but your assumption that he could be a hero deflated and was thrown out the window as he reacted far too slow, turning around nearly jumping out of his (pants?), letting out a scream that could put a little girl at Disneyland to shame. His arms flailed and he lost his footing on the ATM, falling over only for another portal to open on the ground and swallowing him whole. He reappeared in a portal on the ceiling behind you and you jumped, turning around just in time to see him fall through, his torso hitting the top of a shelf and sending all of the condiments falling before he hit the ground. You couldn’t help but wince, that had to hurt, but kept your grip on the gun firm as he struggled to his feet.

Leaning against a display to pull himself off, he mistakenly put too much faith in the rickety stand and it toppled over, bags of snacks matching the other items scattered on the ground. He let out a groan of pain and when he stood, somewhat fully as he seemed to have bad posture, you watched the now broken sunglasses fall off of his face, or rather lack thereof, his hat falling to the ground.

He had no face. Where it should’ve been, there was a large, black gaping hole with no way to see anything inside. In fact, it wasn’t just his face, as you soon came to realize that he wasn’t wearing pants, those dots were his skin. He had no human distinguishable features, what you had assumed to be pale skin was actually paper white, decorated with black hopes all across his legs, seemingly his entire body. His coat still remained, but you were willing to bet that his torso was covered in the same holes as the rest of his body. If not for the humanoid figure, voice, and his clumsy personality you wouldn’t have known he was human, assuming he was.

“Wait wait wait! Please- pLEASE don’t shoot! I’m not dangerous I swear I’m a good guy, well I’m not because I’m robbing you but I’m not really robbing you-” as he seemed to start to ramble on, the confusion started contorting your face and he seemed to notice, laughing nervously with his hands still raised as he took a step back. “See, I’m not really a criminal but because I look like this now no one will hire me and I have to resort to robbing stores to support myself, you know?” As he spoke he attempted to shake an empty can that his foot lodged itself in, leaning down to pull it off while keeping a hand up which reminded you that you still held him at gun point.

While you were still only beginning to process what the hell was going on, you hypothesized that the more stressed or worked up he seemed to be, the more out of control his holes became, as the seemed to shift and swirl on his body more and more as he continued to rant. “I’m kind of like my own Robin Hood, you know the whole steal from the rich give to the poor? Except I kind of am the poor, at least I am now. I used to have a good job at Alchemax before they turned me into this, but I can thank Spider-Man for that too-” Alongside that, they popped up far more often, proven by how he suddenly toppled into another, emerging from the wall next to you and hitting the floor head first, wincing as he stood up, this time without the can, it instead falling from a different hole that appeared next to his head, hitting him square in the face before disappearing into another hole.

Without realized it, your arms slightly lowered and you resulted to watching the poor man’s sad attempts at controlling his mutation/power, finding it both pitiful and amusing. “But that’s besides the point! You really shouldn’t shoot me I swear I’ll be out of your hair, which looks great- by the way, as soon as I can I really don’t mean any harm!”

Pulling his arm out of a half closed hole, he suddenly straightened up, managing to stand in one place without being thrown around like a rag doll. Silence remained as you seemingly stood still and stared at him for what seemed like an eternity but was only a few seconds before you pursed your lips, looking down as a hand came up to your mouth to muffle the sounds.

“What- what are you doing?” He questioned you, and while there was no expression on his face you had a feeling he was looking at you with a puzzled look, only for his question to be answered when you suddenly doubled over, the muffled snicker turning into chuckles, which lead to giggles up until you were howling with laughter, hardly able to catch your breath. You left him standing there thinking you must’ve lost your mind. “Why are you laughing?!” You could only respond with more cackling, leaning against a wall and inhaling deeply to make up for the lack of air you could consume.

“What’s so funny?! This isn’t a joke!” He sounded both surprised and slightly offended, which you felt slightly bad for but given his methods you couldn’t help it, and by the time you started to calm down as he stupidly stood there, the pieces seemed to finally click on everything he was telling you, from what you knew anyway.

“Are you sure?” Were the first words that left your mouth, and he seemed baffled by your reaction. “Yes I’m sure! What’s your deal? I’ll have you know I spent a lot of time planning this out!” You highly doubted that.

The holes were definitely hard to get your mind behind, but as your brain tried to process you suddenly reminded the can while a portal, unbeknownst to you, opened up behind you. Where did it go?

BANG!

A sharp pain raced through the back of your head and the man’s hands went up to where his mouth would’ve, or rather should’ve, been. “Ohmygosh I am SO sorry, I swear I didn’t mean to!”

“Yeah, I figured!”

Reaching up to feel the back of your head, a throbbing pain settled in, but luckily no blood so you deemed it safe. You didn’t have to see it to hear the apologetic tone in his voice, and after that entire fiasco you could only feel bad for the poor guy. He clearly hadn’t been built for a life of crime, but unfortunately decided that it was his path.

“Listen,” you got his attention by showing off you lowering the weapon, before nodding your head up towards the ceiling and giving a pointed look to two corners of the store. “The cameras in here are really old, they don’t have audio and the video quality is horrible. I can edit the footage to an extent before I leave, but if the time gap between the frames is too long it might get suspicious and I’m not losing my job over you.”

You slowly raised your weapon as you looked back at him, turning the safety back on. “I’m going to act like I’m holding you at gunpoint and threatening to call the cops, all you have to do is snatch the gun when I ‘accidentally’ drop it, kind of switch the roles around, you get me? I can get you some money from the safe before I call the cops but you have to be quick-”

“Wait, hold on, you’re helping me?” He asked incredulously, his shoulders falling as he pointed at his chest. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

“I am, you honestly don’t seem like a bad guy and it’s not coming out of my paycheck, so long as next time you try to pull this you don’t do it here.”

If he had one, his jaw surely would’ve been on the floor. “I can’t even begin to thank you, you’re a saint! Is this a trick? I can’t repay you for this-” he started on again, but you cut him off be gesturing towards the weapon again to remind him of your words before dropping it.

Luckily for you, he was able to catch on pretty quickly and took the gun. His acting was mediocre at best, but you doubted anyone would look at the footage closely enough to notice how amateur he seemed as he pointed it at you, he hadn’t even turned the safety off. He demanded you take him to the safe before you reminded him that the cameras couldn’t hear him and there wasn’t a need for the menacing voice, to which he sheepishly apologized. After letting him stuff his pockets with as many of the bills as he could fit, you yelled to stop him before he could race out the door.

“The gun. I need it back.”

“Oh, yeah, right…” he chuckled and left it on the counter, taking a few awkward steps back. Your curiosity got the better of you and you leaned forward from behind the counter. “You did a whole lot of talking but I never got your name.”

Flustered, he seemed to point at himself as if he were confused on why you were asking him, but replied, “I am…the Spot.”

The same feeling bubbling up in your chest as you eyed his stance and the sudden voice change, you brought a hand up to your mouth, and his shoulders fell yet again.

“You’re seriously laughing? Again?!”

“No! No, I’m not,” you tried to defend, but the giggle you let out before clearing your throat and biting back a smile said otherwise. Luckily you were able to control it this time. “It’s just- what kind of awful parents have the honors of giving you that name?”

“It’s my villain name! Not my real one!” He hissed.

“Then what’s your real name?”

He looked at you puzzled, possibly wondering why you wanted to know so much, but at the same time it’d been a while since anyone had shown genuine interest in him so he obliged.

“Johnathan.”

“Johnathan,” you repeated slowly, as if you were resting out the name in your mouth, making his stomach warm up with an indescribably annoying feeling. “Alright, Johnny. Have a good night. You might want to get lost before the cops show up.”

He turned around as if to leave before pausing yet again, turning his head back. “Wait, I never got your name?”

“Then I guess you’re going to have to come back another time to find out.” Bold, and completely not your style, but something told you that you and Johnathan were going to get along nicely. “Preferably not to rob me though, and without making a big mess I have to inevitably clean.”

You gestured to the mess of food and other miscellaneous items that had fallen off of mostly toppled shelves, and Johnathan gave a sheepish apology. “I’ll be back.”

“I’m counting on it.”

He disappeared into the night, or rather a black portal that opened under his feet once he stepped outside, and you were once again left sitting behind the counter and alone with your thoughts, the sounds of distant sirens getting louder every second, only this time you had something to look forward too the next time you clocked in and the Spot had a new motivation for his newfound criminal activity.

#across the spiderverse #atsv fanfiction #spiderman atsv #atsv x reader #spider man #the spot #jonathan ohnn #johnathan ohnn x reader #spiderverse the spot #the spot across the spiderverse #the spot x reader #the spot atsv

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romancingdaffodils · 1 year

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Drunken Monologues

Certified Mind Blower

remus lupin x gender neutral!magical!reader

fluff fluff pure fluff with a tiny sprinkle of Remus being silly about his furry little problem.

Remus Lupin is the cutest cutie that ever did cute!

You fell asleep at his house, in his bed, beside him. Despite what your ‘drunken’ self may have wanted Remus just put you to sleep. Then, you wake up to the sound of his voice and to the scent of something sweet. Oh, and a splitting headache.

haii did you miss me i bet you did (lots of love lilac)

ps i think this picture is super cute because my best friend taught me how to play backgammon and i’m shit at it but it makes me happy :333 matt hitt is so cute

Remus Lupin has been and always will be unbearably pretty. So, when you woke up in his bed, it was a bit of a shock. However, that shock was soon overcome by the consequences of your previous actions. ‘Ow, my head.’ you thought, groaning once again. You were certain you hadn’t been that drunk, but maybe you were in denial. Not being that drunk should not warrant this awful headache. Suddenly, it dawned on you. You were alone in the bed. Surely Remus wasn’t the type to fuck off from his own house just because he wasn’t interested in you, right? Right? Sitting up, another sensation other than the splitting headache hit you. The smell of pancakes and the sound of Remus’s voice. Yum (for both). He’s talking, was he on the phone? You wanted to groan again, feeling like it was too much energy to move to the lounge. However, for more of Remus, you’d do anything.

“I’d say sorry Pads,” Sirius from last night, you remind yourself “But, I’m not sorry at all. They’re lovely, absolutely perfect.” he said, his voice muffled slightly by the walls. You can’t hear Sirius’s voice but you imagine he said something along the lines of ‘Honestly Moony, never expected that from you,’. As you had this thought, it set in he was talking about you. Fuck. Your face flushed and every single thing you’d said last night popped into your head. Late night slideshows of embarrassment now had enough fuel to last a life time. Padding out of the bedroom, you stood in the doorway to the lounge.

“Dunno why you’re so bothered, heard you went home with someone else anyway, Mckinnon was it? Or perhaps the bartender guy, who couldn’t leave you alone?” Remus said, chuckling down the phone. You were glad Sirius wasn’t bothered by your infatuation with his friend, seeing as he’d gone home with someone else. In front of him, two plates of pancakes were being coated in strawberries and chocolate spread. Sirius shouted so loud down the phone that you actually heard it this time.

“‘Cause it was a fucking betrayal Remus!” he whined and you couldn’t help but giggle at his remark. Immediately, the tall boys head whipped round and he flashed you a smile.

“Good bye Sirius.” he replied, hanging up instantly. “Made breakfast, how long have you been awake?” he asked, still grinning at you; you smiled back.

“Not long, thanks for breakfast. Looks good.” you said, trying desperately hard not to fumble over your words. Your cheeks were still flushed and your brain was still mush.

“You alright, love? Y’look- quite red. How’s your head?” he questioned, as though he could read your mind. The statement ‘you look quite red’ was obviously a teasing one. So, when you frowned up at him, his grin only grew. Stomach twisting, you tried desperately hard not to give him a reaction to his pet name.

“I’m fine, thanks. Plus, you’re completely and utterly awful.” you complained, still frowning up at him.

“I made you breakfast and I’m awful. You were a lot braver last night.” he teased, picking up the two plates and placing them down on the breakfast bar.

“I remember you being a lot less mean last night.” you complained, still scowling at him. Your false anger didn’t last long as you sat down and gave a big smile. “Thank you.” you added, tilting your head.

“ ‘m incredible, dunno what you’re talking about. And, you’re welcome. How’d you sleep?” he replied, sitting down next to you and stretching out his legs. He was so unbelievably pretty, even with messy hair and too big pyjamas - which consisted of a band shirt and joggers.

“Really, really well actually. You? Oh, by the way. Sorry about, you know, everything I said last night. I’m not normally like that.” you mumbled in between bites of freakishly good pancakes. Chocolate spread and strawberries were an unmatched combo (only lemon juice and sugar could beat it).

“Slept well too. Plus, quite enjoyed you telling me how, ahh what was it? Fucking gorgeous you think I am. But, seriously, no worries.” Remus teased, but his tone deepened at his last sentence.

“I feel like I forced my way into your home.” you giggled, smiling over at him sheepishly.

“I’m not complaining. Y’lovely. I know you heard me say that to Sirius, by the way. You don’t really have the whole poker face nailed, do you?”.

“No, no not really.” you mumbled, becoming flustered once again. Watching Remus, you admired his every move as he finished off the pancakes. Similarly, he couldn’t take his eyes away from you. “Let me help, like do the washing up or something.” you said, standing up as soon as you finished the food “I feel bad, you’ve been so nice.”.

“You really don’t have to, but, if you want to you can.” he stated, smiling over at you as you took the plate away. Quickly, you got to work on washing the plates. He laughed lightly as he watched you, shaking his head.

“Are you laughing at me?” you asked, feigning offence. Approaching you, Remus placed his arms on either side of you. You turned around, having finished with the washing up. His face was only a few inches away from your own.

“Would never.” he defended, looking down at you. Remus Lupin was ridiculously tall, pretty and charismatic. He dressed like a loser, but was in fact - in your eyes - quite the opposite. Right now, he was all you had ever wanted.

“Hi.” your mind was at a complete blank and the fact you had even formed a word was impressive. Your body felt like it was on fire.

“Hello, dove.” he purred, trying hard not to laugh at the look on your face. As calm as Remus presented himself, he had a dead giveaway. A tell. White knuckles. He was gripping the sink so tightly his knuckles had altered into a pale, almost translucent white.

“You didn’t kiss me yesterday.” you stated, feeling it rather appropriate for the situation. He smiled. You swallowed, hard.

“No, I didn’t. You were quite drunk. However, it would be awful of me to not kiss you today.” he murmured in response, leaning closer in. Your mind was filled with a repetitive sequence of two words. Kiss me. Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me. His teasing was criminal. He was driving you insane within the first day of knowing him and you couldn’t imagine the solace his kiss would bring.

“So awful,”. You had to bite your tongue to avoid begging him to kiss you.

Moving even closer towards you, Remus’s tight grip on the sink never once faltered. And, finally, sweet relief. He kissed you like you’d never been kissed before. Soft, sweet and somehow it held a passion that sent your brain into a wicked frenzy. When he pulls away, you pant.

It was good. Too good. Far too good.

“You’re so pretty, ‘s unfair.” he cooed, releasing the sink and running his hand through your hair. Tenderly, he tucked the majority of your unbrushed hair behind your ears. Remus didn’t really seem to mind the mess.

“Ha-ha. Haha.” you said. Yes, you spoke the sounds “Ha-ha.” Sounding somewhat like a maniac, all you could do was look up at him with pure adoration.

“Are you okay?” he asked, tilting his head. Once again, he was trying desperately hard not to laugh.

“Perfectly- Um, perfectly fine.” you confirmed, nodding your head as you spoke. Once again, the broken record spinning that was in your mind began its maniacal chant. ‘Kiss me. Kiss me. Kiss me.’ you begged, silently.

“Still not got a poker face, dove.” he observed, leaning back in. Connection. Morning breath and all. Connection. You were praying you wouldn’t collapse of the sensation of it all. Your hands shakily found their way into Remus’s hair. Carelessly, his hands moved to your waist and pulled you closer.

In books it’s common for the writer to describe the characters emotions whilst kissing; it emphasises how good the sensation truly is. However, right now, you were going against all laws of literature. All you could think, feel or live was Remus. One day was all it took for you to be whipped. Truly, taken. One day.

With your head tilted upwards and your body pressed flush against the brown haired man’s, you could’ve died. Unfortunately, he pulled away. Taking in slow deep breaths, he peered down at you. The look in his eyes was different. He had attraction and affection, sure. But, there was something else there. His expression changed, now matching the look in his eyes. It looked like he was fighting some sort of battle with himself.

And, honestly? Remus was fighting a battle. He liked you, from what he could tell anyway. He liked you a lot. However, Remus Lupin was burdened with a curse he wouldn’t dare admit to anyone bar his closest friends. His so called furry little problem actually turned out to be a rather large problem. Especially when it came to people like you.

Famously, he was promiscuous. God knows the number of people he’d been with. But, those hookups could be reduced to a number. Someone like you couldn’t be inconsequential. In fact, he was of the firm belief you were going to be quite consequential in deed. Reducing you to another quick affection fix would be doing you a great disservice, so Remus thought anyway. So here he was, in his own kitchen, desperately pleading with his own brain to let him take you out. You kissed like some sort of God and you begged like a desperate follower; his body couldn’t decide which part of you he liked the most. In turn, that was what led to the ultimate decision to ask you out. Reminding himself of James, Sirius and Pete’s never ending pep talks, the lanky man understood his lycanthropy did not make him any less worthy of what he wanted. However, trying to act on that was an unbelievably difficult task for Remus. The typical excuse of chronic pain won’t cut it in a serious relationship, when he disappears for days. And, he felt a pang of guilt already fiddling with his intestines for any pain it would bring you. Making his mind up was proving to be far more difficult than he would’ve liked.

His heart won the fight, for once. Foolishly, he had put his logic driven brain aside and let his heart do the talking. (He’d soon come to realise it wasn’t foolish at all).

“Do you wanna go out, this week sometime?” he asked, continuously taking the lead. Grateful, you smiled up at him.

“Yeah, actually. I’d really, really like that.” you affirmed, once again nodding your head like a babbling idiot.

#remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus x reader #remus x you #sirius black #james potter #marauders era #let me out #i’m dying #i hate writing

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lostgracestories · 7 months

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What Am I To You pt 3 - Sukuna x Reader

Hey guys! Sorry for such a long absence but thank you for your patience! I explained the length of my absence in a previous post on my page <3 hope you enjoy this part!

TW: baby bit of angst

WC: 633

It had been a little while since Sukuna had proposed the bright idea for the two of you to date. It was obvious the concept was completely new to him. Every night when Yuji got home, they would swap out so that you and Sukuna could spend time together. In the past week, you had done the following;

Taught Sukuna how cuddling works

Watched 2 movies together that seemed to highly captivate Sukuna

And you had taught Sukuna how to cook

All of this and still, Sukuna couldn't grasp the thought of using kind words with you. You had begun to question if this really was a good idea.

It was early evening around 5 pm and you were standing in the kitchen cooking dinner. Despite Sukuna's lack of need for food, you still cooked for him anyway. You had been thinking for the past hour that you'd been cooking that it would probably be a good idea to end things with Sukuna. You found it stupid that you had convinced yourself he could show you love in any shape or form. It wasn't until the front door creaked open and you heard a sigh as Yuji swapped out with Sukuna that you were snapped out of your thoughts.

"Welcome home"

You mumbled and stirred your wooden spoon around the soup in your pot. When you received no answer you furrowed your brows and prepared to turn around. However, before you could fully rotate, you felt two large hands creep around your waist and a face press into your neck. It catches you off guard and at first, you think it's Yuji still. That is until you reach down and place your hand over his. Sukuna's rougher hands underneath yours. You take a deep breath and put on a soft tone despite your earlier concerns.

"Kuna? What's wrong?" Sukuna doesn't respond and instead, you feel one of his hands suddenly reach under your shirt and hips lips press into your neck. You shiver at the sudden affection and before you can question him, he finally speaks.

"I missed you"

His confession draws confusion from you and you quickly speak up.

"You did?" Your question is met with a muffled grumble of dissatisfaction and another kiss against your neck.

"'Course I did. The brat almost got us killed today"

Suddenly, realization hits you like a ton of bricks. Sukuna was in fear that he would not come back home to you. The idea that this powerful being who could kill you in a heartbeat became weak at the thought of leaving you behind almost made you weak in your knees. You completely forgot about your concerns from earlier and spin yourself around to face him.

"Kuna, I need to finish dinner, can you wait at the table, please? You can tell me all about today once dinner is ready"

A snippy tone seems to possess Sukuna suddenly as his voice raises just below a yell

"No"

You're taken aback by his strong rejection and almost say something before he moves the pot of soup off the burner, turns the stove off, and picks you up over his shoulder, carrying you to the bedroom. You worry that he wants something from you that you aren't willing to give him yet and he almost seems to read your mind.

"Relax"

Once you reach your bedroom, Sukuna lays you down on the bed and before you can sit up, he lays his head across your stomach and wraps his arms around you tightly. You take a moment to process before placing a hand in his hair and rubbing his head gently. You feel yourself becoming a little sleepy and just before you pass out you hear Sukuna's quiet gravelly voice speak through the silence.

"I love you"

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #fluff #jujutsu kaisen ryomen #yuji #itadori #jujutsu sorcerer #sukuna #jjk sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen #jjk x you #jjk fluff #jjk fanfic

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rebouks · 1 year

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Previous // Next

[Tristen propped himself up as the door handle rattled obnoxiously, his brief intrigue disappearing as he realised who was struggling with it. Oscar and Courtney were convinced this place was haunted, but he’d need some proof before jumping on that bandwagon] Robin: Hi. Tristen: Hey. [Robin clambered beside Tristen, offering him a half-eaten lollipop; he politely declined] Tristen: I’ve already brushed my teeth, buddy.. you keep it. Robin: Okay. Tristen: Isn’t it past your bedtime? [Making himself comfortable, Robin completely ignored Tristen’s question, studying him intently instead] Robin: Mama reads to me when I don’t feel good. Tristen: Awh, that’s nice. Robin: You’re sick like papa, aren’t you? But worser. Tristen: Uh… Robin: In here. [Slightly dumbfounded, Tristen raised a brow as Robin pointed to his head. He didn’t think Oscar would’ve taught such a young child about addiction, not yet at least-.. but he must have said something] Tristen: I guess so.. I’m alright though. Oscar: I hope you knocked before waltzing on in here, mister. Tristen: It’s okay. [Oscar plonks himself beside Robin, stealing his lollipop; how villainous] Oscar: Where’d you get this? Robin: I found it. Oscar: That’s nasty, pal. Robin: You’s eating it too. Oscar: ‘Cause I’m nasty-.. he’s not bothering you is he? [Tristen shook his head, still wearing a slight look of bewilderment] Oscar: What’s up? Tristen: Erh.. he’s pretty smart, isn’t he? Oscar: [snorts] Too smart.

#ts4 #sims 4 #simblr #ts4 story #sims story #forever in between #fib #oscar finch #robin finch #tristen burks #mmmmmmmm floor candy #pls robin.. don't bamboozle triss before bedtime #skdjsk #i'm not oblivious to how smol children behave/talk etc etc btw #but robin is an anomaly for a reason u kno #we'll see a lot more nonsense with the other kiddos lmao

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the-caretakest-of-the-caretakers · 2 months

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TOH Hunter headcanons (Golden Guard) (hurt/comfort and whump)

I made a list of my headcanons for Hunter in his Golden Guard era! I'm rather nervous about posting this-

I must warn, this account is focused on whump. Whump is a subgenre closely similar to hurt/comfort in which an author puts a fictional character through physical or psychological pain. Please, do not read if that could make you uncomfortable.

This list will contain mentions of:

Panic and anxiety attacks

Disordered eating

Physical injuries

Mild physical illness

Don't read under the cut if those matters are triggering to you.

- Hunter has nightmares about events he hasn't experienced per se, but that were experienced by previous grimwalkers in his position. Most of his nightmares involve Belos killing him, which amplifies his need to please the emperor in fear that his nightmares will become real.

- Hunter has some disordered thoughts when it comes to eating, since he's been taught that he needs to earn such a "luxury". He may have nutritional deficiencies due to this, such as anemia.

- On the same vein, it's likely that Hunter gets weird cravings often, both from anemia and from undereating. Occasionally he might even have binging episodes where he sneaks late at night into the kitchen and starts eating without others knowing, not even cooking the raw food.

- Flapjack acts like an emotional support animal to him. He follows Hunter everywhere and rests on his shoulder whenever he's tired, or if he needs comfort. Flapjack has also supported Hunter through panic and anxiety attacks, nuzzling into his chest.

- Wearing his Golden Guard armor aids him a lot when trying to show a calm facade, as he can hide his face, as well as limit the tremors when his body gets shaky. It gives him a sense of power and belonging as well. Therefore, he feels especially vulnerable when he's not in his armor.

- He suffers from Complex-PTSD. Sometimes, he gets emotional flashbacks that trigger anxiety and panic attacks. Hunter doesn't know what a panic attack is, but he's really ashamed of suffering from them. He just assumes it's a normal thing he has to learn to stop on command.

- Hunter is actually very emotionally sensitive. Since he was never allowed to show it, though, his body got subconsciously used to expressing his emotional stress through physical symptoms. Therefore, it's not unusual for him to feel "off" (with intense migraines, fatigue, stomachaches...) after an emotionally charged day.

- He snaps at people when they show concern for him, since he thinks he's being mocked or seen as incompetent. Other coven members never really showed concern, after all. The only person who has ever shown any sort of remote care for him before has been the emperor, and that kind of care was always conditional. Hunter feels like he has to prove his strength to everyone who tries to treat him like "someone" instead of "something".

- The Emperor's Coven had little-to-no actual medical assistance. The usual procedure for wounds was to bandage them without cleaning them beforehand. Hunter never questioned it. Most of his scars are from injuries that were never treated properly.

#hunter toh #toh #the owl house #toh headcanon #hunter headcanons #whump blog #whump #whumpblr #golden guard #hurt/comfort #whump community #whumpee

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the-blind-assassin-12 · 11 months

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Aphelion - 11

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Female Reader, Oberyn Martell x Ellaria Sand

*Please be sure to consider all chapter warnings before reading! Warnings will be updated for each chapter in individual posts as well as on the Masterlist.

Warnings: language, discussion of the past, mentions of violence, blood and death, mention of self-harm, NSFW, vampirism, biting

Word Count: 16,754

Summary: Oberyn has already told you that it's been 400 years since he last used his mark of protection on someone that he cared about, but when you learn why he stopped using it - and how that decision has shaped his life since then - it sheds new light on what it means that he used it on you. And so does what happens after he shares this with you.

The plan for dealing with the Lannisters is in place, and preparations continue throughout the week - until Toban and Tyene surprise you with something unexpected but extremely welcome.

A/N: HAPPY HALLOWEEN FROM @something-tofightfor & I! We hope that your spooky season is full of fun, treats, and just the right amount of scares. We also hope that you all enjoy this mega-packed chapter! This story continues to be so much fun for us to work on, and we're both really excited about this update and what's still to come. Thank you from the bottoms of our hearts to everyone who has interacted with this story - your comments and reactions make us very happy ghouls.

Also, if you have questions about details or plot points or the way that Westerosi history/world fits into the “real” world- please ask! We don’t want to confuse anyone.

Catch up with the Aphelion masterlist here!

(banner by @valkblue )

It took him more than a few seconds to gather his thoughts, but Oberyn’s hold on you never wavered. You stared out and over the city, the lights glittering in the distance, and you let yourself think again about everything that had happened in the previous hours. No, not just hours … days.

But unlike Oberyn, you didn’t think silently.

“I’m not sure if you know this, but …” Closing your eyes, you took a long breath. “If it wasn’t for Golden Lion and my job, I’d probably be in some shitty little apartment in the Midwest right now.” He hummed in response but didn’t speak, one of his hands moving slowly back and forth over your stomach. “I knew what I wanted to do with my life when I was a teenager, but I never really thought that I’d get hired by a company like theirs right out of college.”

“They did something right, at least.” You snorted at his words, his irritation barely masked by amusement. “Was Golden Lion the first place you’ve worked?”

“It was my first full time adult job, yeah. I did an internship with them my senior year of college and I guess they were impressed, but …” You shrugged. “They had more than 100 candidates apply for three open positions so I figured I’d get a “thanks but no thanks” letter after a few weeks and started applying to museums and historical programs in places like Michigan and Illinois and Ohio. But instead … I got a job offer with a relocation assistance stipend.”

It had been one of the best days of your life, and even though you’d learned that Golden Lion - and the Lannisters especially - weren’t the people you’d thought they were, your time at the company had been worthwhile. It taught me so much and it brought me here.

“They do have a knack for recruiting people with talent.” He sighed, lowering his lips to your shoulder again. “It is an annoying thing that has been true since … well, since the beginning.”

You felt him smiling and you did, too, still staring out into the darkness. “I had a choice between working in New York, London, one of the Westeros office locations, or here.”

“And you chose California.” He kissed the side of your neck, breathing the next words into your ear. “The City of Angels.” You rolled your eyes every time Los Angeles was referred to that way, but when Oberyn said it, it had the opposite effect on you. I am a walking cliche when it comes to him.

“I did. Westeros was tempting, just because of everything it would have allowed me to see, but I decided it was too far away for something that I didn’t know if I’d get to do for long. In London I would have been in a really small office and that wasn’t appealing. New York was …” You wrinkled your nose, even though he couldn’t see it. Never New York. “But California? I figured that even if the job didn’t work out, I’d have the beach. And then I met Nora and her friends and it turned out I really liked what I did for work - and most of my coworkers.” You spun to face him, finding that you were blinking back tears.

You knew it was selfish - that after everything the Lannisters had done to the Martells and to the people Oberyn loved, you had no right to be so upset over something as trivial as your job. But it was important to me. It was a huge part of my life. Everything I worked for.

“And I think that’s what the worst part of this is. Even though there were always ulterior motives to what they had me doing, it was … I liked it. I liked working for Golden Lion. I learned so much. I met so many people and worked on so many great projects, and …” You glanced up, lips pressed together. “And then I met you, and I realized that I knew so damn much, but I really knew nothing, even after all this time.”

“Meeting me was the worst part?” He was teasing you, but when you met his eyes you saw concern in them, Oberyn barely concealing a frown as he watched you. “I don’t think that anyone has ever been so bold as to -” That made you laugh, both of your hands coming up to cover your face and wipe some of the tears away.

“Yes, Oberyn. The worst. I meet an unreasonably hot man that just so happens to be the literal embodiment of every fantasy I’ve ever had in my entire life at a bar. Then two weeks later I’m standing with him on the balcony of a penthouse apartment so fucking nice that I have no business being anywhere near it. Oh, and I’m also wearing a mark of protection from him on my neck that means that he chose me, and -”

Oberyn moved before you’d even registered it, gathering you in his arms and holding you tight against his chest, face turned down so that he could kiss the top of your head. “I do see how that might be terrible.” Inhaling deeply, you let yourself cry for a few seconds, Oberyn’s arms locked in place. “But you need to look at me.”

You did, pulling back enough so that you could meet his gaze. The playfulness was still there, but Oberyn’s mood had shifted again, the man mostly serious. “What?”

“You can’t blame yourself for not knowing the truth. Not many people do. Even those that are like me aren’t … they do not all come from Westeros, or have the same vendettas that we do. And even I have to admit, the things that the Lannisters have done to remain relevant throughout the years … it is impressive. It is even more impressive because like I said, they attract talented people, which means their relevancy lasts.”

“Yeah, but it’s just … a cover. They used people like me to try and find you, Oberyn. You and your family, and -”

“But think about it.” He loosened his grip on you, taking a half step back and urging you to back up and against the low railing. “How much did you learn? How much did you archive? How much will the records you created teach others? Yes, the end goal was for Lannister benefit, but overall, you’ve done more good for Westeros than you know.” He reached up, fingers curling against your neck so that he could press his thumb to the mark he’d put there. It sent a tingle of heat through you, your lips parting and feet shuffling toward him, both hands rising so that you could grip his shirt. “You know now. And if… when this goes according to plan, I’m sure Tyrion will have no problem getting you back to your position, if that’s what you want. This plan will make him mortal, but getting rid of the rest of the Lannisters puts him at the head of the company by name and lineage, and I do not think that he will mind doing a small favor for me.”

You hadn’t even thought of that - of the possibility that after everything was done, you could go back. But I’ll need to work. I don’t have thousands of years worth of finances saved somewhere, and I can’t pay my rent here without a job. “We’ll see. We need to get through the next …. When is the wedding again?”

“The engagement party is next weekend. The wedding follows soon after. They are apparently following the Westerosi custom of the party being used as a lead-in to the main event, but that works in our favor.”

“Yeah, there’s so much going on no one can have eyes everywhere.” You sighed, closing your eyes. “Thank you for talking me down, Oberyn. I’m sorry I -”

“You never need to apologize to me.” He said your name, the man’s thumb and forefinger tilting your chin up so that you could see his wink. “For anything. I understand what you are going through, and I understand how much your life has changed.” Flattening your hands against his belly, you nodded and then took a deep breath.

“If you say so. But I need to stop getting sidetracked. We have a lot to talk about and -” You were interrupted by the rumble of your stomach, Oberyn’s eyes immediately dropping at the sound. Shit. Of course he can hear that, he -

“When was the last time you ate?” He tweaked your chin, his smile widening. “It sounds like it’s been a while.”

“I had some fruit while we talked to Tyrion, but it’s been … hours? Lunch, maybe? I don’t…remember.” You trailed off, frowning. Since the night of the Halloween party, your dining habits had been less than regular. The fact that no one in your company ate at typical times wasn’t helping, either. “I should have something, though. Or else I won’t be able to sleep tonight.”

“Stay here.” He nodded twice. “I’ll get you something and then… I’ll tell you about Cameron and Toban.”

He disappeared back into the apartment, the door closing softly behind him. Once he was gone, you turned back to the railing, gripping it with both hands. You’d wasted time complaining about your job, but not too much, and you knew that even though it was late, there were still hours before sunrise. And he’ll want to stay out here as long as possible.

Your head swirled with bits of information - what you knew about the Lannisters and the Martells, what you knew about Oberyn and Ellaria’s bond, the vow that Oberyn had made to himself the moment he’d been turned and learned what happened when someone turned others. And you knew that no matter how much time you had to understand it, it would never be enough. Unless that eternity that Toban mentioned is possible. That might be …

Swiping one hand over your face, you hung your head, opening your eyes so that you could watch the cars on the street far below you. Tyene had offered to change you if you wanted it. Toban’s willingness to step in when necessary had already been tested, but you had a feeling that if he attempted the same thing a second time, even Ellaria’s interference wouldn’t protect him from Oberyn. But I don’t want either of those options. If it’s not Oberyn… it’s no one.

Linking your fingers together, you stared out and over the city, weight resting on your forearms. Four hundred years is a long time, even for him. And it sounds like Cameron was incredibly important to him but he still wouldn’t … he didn’t even use his mark, he … “It’s late, so I figured you didn’t want anything heavy.”

Turning at the sound of his voice, you watched as he held up a plate with one hand, a bottle of water held in his curled fingers and a stainless steel bottle tucked under his other arm. “A sandwich? Did you make this? Or was it -”

“I might have been a prince in a past life, and not need to eat in this one, but I know my way around a kitchen.” He grinned as he set everything down on the small table before unfolding the blanket laying atop the outdoor couch. “Come here.”

You did, stepping in front of him - and when Oberyn draped the material over your shoulders, he used the ends of the blanket to pull you closer, ducking his head down to press a kiss to your lips. That kiss was longer than the last one on the rooftop, but he still broke it much too quickly, stepping back and gesturing for you to sit. “Thank you for … dinner? A midnight snack? Whatever this is, I’m going to inhale it.”

“Good.” He sat next to you, rolling the container he held between both of his hands. “I hope it is alright with you if I … also eat.” Your eyes flicked from the sandwich in your hand to the bottle in his, both brows shooting up in understanding. Blood. There’s blood in there, and he didn’t want me to see it while he drank.

“Of course. Eat.” You took a bite, chewing to give yourself a few extra seconds before speaking again. “Oberyn, you don’t have to worry about that with me. I understand what … you are, and what you need.” Elbowing him, you turned your head to look at the man. “And I’ve already seen you at your worst with Clegane, right? So it -”

“That wasn’t anywhere near my worst.” Flipping the straw up on his bottle, Oberyn sipped from it, staring straight ahead. “But yes, you have briefly seen the worst parts of me.” Your stomach dropped at his words, but part of you wasn’t surprised. He’s been alive for 2,000 years, and he thinks… Oh, Oberyn. “I know that you are expecting to hear about Cameron. But to tell you about Cameron, I need to go back much further.” He sipped again, eyes closing as he swallowed. “To Isabel. To before Isabel. I need to tell you why I stopped offering my protection to the humans I cared for.”

His voice changed as he spoke the woman’s name, and it only took moments for you to figure out who she was. But instead of interrupting, you continued to eat your sandwich, scooting marginally closer to him while you chewed. It took a few seconds, but Oberyn laid an arm over your shoulders, his fingers closing around the far one and squeezing. I’m listening, Oberyn.

“When Ellaria turned me, I knew that I wouldn’t get my revenge right away. I knew that it could take time, but I never thought … I never thought thousands of years would pass.” He paused, head shaking from side to side slowly. “The longer I waited, the more I needed to do to fill my days. By the time I was given the sunlight again, Ellaria and I were far from Westeros. My immediate relatives were long gone, and there was no sign of the right Lannisters. She took me to Greece and within a year I… we met someone.”

You weren’t surprised - Oberyn’s magnetism had been well documented in all of the ancient texts that you’d seen, and you imagined that given the opportunity to meet new people in new places, it hadn’t been any different.

“But it was short lived, because… I wasn’t careful enough. Her association with Ellaria and I put a target on her head, and she was … she was killed because of it. She was killed and we had to leave, and it was only then that Ellaria explained the process of marking someone for safety.”

“Oh, Oberyn.” Wincing, you reached over and squeezed his knee. “I’m so sorry.” He lost someone else, almost right away. I can’t…

“I was too. And from there …” He laughed, but the sound was sad. “From there, I admit that I treated offering my mark in the same way I lived as a man - in excess. Even Ellaria questioned me at times, but it was the way I coped. I could not have the revenge I wanted, and losing more people that I cared about was not an option. So for a few hundred years, I … marked my partners. I kept them close without thinking twice, but I never hesitated to step away from them when it became clear that Cersei and Tywin and the fucking Mountain were back, or when they demanded too much of me.”

“Oberyn, I …” You didn’t know what else to say - especially since up until that conversation, you’d assumed he’d always been selective about who he offered protection to. But I was wrong.

“Many of them asked to become like me, and I denied all of them - most of them without explanation.” He took another drink, pausing before he set the bottle down on the table. “Losing them of natural causes became almost routine for me. Eight. Ten. Twelve. It was not easy to say goodbye, but I was not heartbroken in the same way I was when the first was taken. Finally, Ellaria pulled me aside, and she let me know what she thought.”

“What did she think?” Curling your legs beneath you, you leaned against Oberyn’s side. “It doesn’t seem like she would have said anything unless she felt strongly about it.”

“You are correct.” Glancing up, you saw that he was smiling - that expression a fonder one. “She told me that the mark was meant to be a symbol of honor, and an indication that the person who wore it was special. She said she’d never try to tell me how to live my second life, but that unless I used that ability with some discretion, it was … meaningless. That in our community, the mark had come to symbolize intent, and I was treating it like giving someone a worthless trinket. I hadn’t ever thought of it that way.”

“Were you two together all that time? I know that Makers don’t always stay with their Children, but you and Ellaria are … different.”

“No. She stayed with me for a long time, but once she was certain I would be alright on my own, we separated. We’d see each other … well, to us, it was frequently, but to you, it probably isn’t.” He started moving his hand up and down on your arm, Oberyn shifting so that you could move even closer. “She made a special trip to tell me what she thought about me using my mark, though. And afterward … I slowed down. I slowed down and I realized that there was no point in protecting people in that way. It was only for my benefit. It didn’t offer them anything in the end.”

Unconsciously, you reached up, touching the space on your neck that bore his sigil. Something changed again. Ellaria and Tyene and Toban’s reactions were real. This isn’t just a mark, it’s… more.

“It’s not possible for me to be emotionless; I’m sure you know that. But I … stopped letting myself get so attached. I stopped settling in places long term. I kept moving. I focused on my eventual revenge instead of on immediate pleasure, and instead of one or two people a century wearing my mark and knowing what I was, more and more time passed between each one. I kept my own secret, and didn’t linger long enough for people to start asking questions.”

“You must have been lonely.” Swallowing hard, you closed your eyes. “Even with Ellaria and the Others that you came into contact with, it must have been so hard.”

“It was. But it got easier each year. The difficult part came when the questions about me making a Child started coming, and I had to explain my reasoning for not turning anyone.”

“That’s nobody’s business, though.” You rolled your eyes. “It’s like people questioning why someone like me isn’t trying to have a baby, or hinting that time is running out, or making the assumption that you can’t be happy unless you’re a parent. That’s a personal choice, Oberyn, and even though I’m kind of relieved to know it isn’t just humans who think that’s their business, it’s still awful of them to question you like that.”

“The thing is, that my reason for not turning anyone is … hypothetical. Yes, most of us pass our strongest traits on when we change someone, but it isn’t set in stone that it happens.” He removed his arm from around you and then leaned forward, picking up the thermos again and taking a long pull from it. You caught a whiff of copper, biting your lip at the scent, but before you could say anything, he continued. “Even Ellaria started to hint that there would be nothing wrong with me changing someone and potentially passing something along, but she never pushed. And after those conversations - after seeing her and Toban and meeting others like us and their first Children, I began to see the appeal… and I started using my mark again. Sparingly, but … just in case. Just to let everyone know that someone was off limits.”

“But you never acted.” He flipped the straw down and let the bottle go, leaning back. “Even though you were close.”

“I was.” He sighed. “Sort of.” Without warning, Oberyn pulled you onto his lap, strong arms holding you against his chest though you were still wrapped in the blanket. “I met Isabel while I waited for Ellaria to arrive for a visit, and there was … something about her. A connection between us that was immediate. I fell for her and offered her my protection. She accepted, and asked if … if it was possible that we could be together forever.”

“You considered it.” You looked up at him, watching as Oberyn nodded slowly. “Because if Ellaria thought you were going to choose between Tyene and Isabel, you must have been much closer than before.”

“I was.” He met your gaze then, the line between his brows deep as he frowned. “But I made the mistake of telling her that it was in fact a possibility, and she … assumed.” Oh, no. “And with that assumption, our relationship changed. I loved her. The idea of … forever with her was not unappealing, but …”

“She thought a maybe was a definitely.” He nodded again and then winced when he looked away, like he was remembering actually living the experience. “Did she know about your past? About the Lannisters and your family?”

“She did. And at first, she told me that she understood my need for vengeance, even though she hadn’t ever seen or heard of the Lannisters before me. But as more time passed, I think … it became clear to her just how focused on that goal I was. I spent as much time with her as I could, but I was also with Ellaria and Tyene, making plans. It had been a long time since Cersei and Tywin had shown their faces so we thought it was probably coming. And when I reminded Isabel that there was a chance that I would turn her and our time together would be short because I did what needed to be done and did not survive, she …”

He lifted a hand a rubbed slowly at his jaw, still staring out at the city. You’d thought that Oberyn’s reasons for not turning the woman had been simple, but the previous few minutes had proven otherwise. And I think it’s going to get worse.

“She did not take it well. She said that Ellaria encouraging my revenge quest for over a thousand years was not a good idea. She said that if I kept it up, I would only do more harm to myself and the people I cared about. She said that once I turned her, I would understand that there was more to my life than the need to remove the Lannisters from the world. And that was … the last thing I needed to hear. Especially since Ellaria had been the one encouraging me to make an offer to Isabel in the first place.”

“I’ve said a lot of stupid things in my life, Oberyn, but none of them have been as stupid as telling you Ellaria was a bad influence on you.” He smiled at that but it was still sad, his hold on you tightening. “That wouldn’t have been a good start to Isabel’s new life.”

“No. And as much as I loved her, Ellaria’s presence was … is… always going to factor into my decisions. I will never compromise on that, no matter how many years I walk this Earth, or who I choose to have beside me.” And you shouldn’t have to. Ellaria isn’t just your Maker. She’s … everything to you. “Isabel didn’t take that well, and she definitely didn’t take me telling her that I’d chosen not to turn her because of her feelings about Ellaria well, either.”

He stopped speaking, and you watched the emotions pass across his features, his face more expressive than you’d ever seen it before. He tightened his jaw and then loosened it before finally looking down at you with another frown on his face that sent a shallow ache through your chest. “Are you -”

“Give me a second. This is not easy for me.” He closed his eyes and then turned toward you, kissing you on the forehead and lingering there. “I left her and went back to Ellaria and Tyene full time. I refused to turn Tyene because that girl deserved better than to be someone’s second choice, and Ellaria was far more equipped to handle her transformation than I was.” He spoke without pulling back, his lips brushing over your skin with each word. “But curiosity got the better of me, and after a little while, I went back to check in on Isabel, and she …”

You felt it before you saw it - the warmth of Oberyn’s tears falling against your skin. Without thinking twice, you slipped an arm around his back and the other under his shoulder, turning your head so that you could press your cheek to his chest. Whatever he’s going to say next is going to be awful.

“She cut my mark from her skin.”

You closed your eyes as the ache in your heart deepened. Without realizing it, you tightened your hold on him, fingers digging into his skin. You were expecting it to be bad given the way he was struggling to get through this part of the story. But that’s horrible. I can’t even imagine…

Your thoughts trailed off as he continued. “She said if I wouldn’t choose her, she didn’t want the safety my mark brought her. Since she could not see it, she… What she did to herself, it… her arm was … mutilated. The wound … it … it became infected, and the infection spread. She refused to let me do anything about it.” He paused again, and when he spoke, you heard the tremble in his voice. “She was too weak to get out of bed, but she was strong enough to tell me that all she’d done was make sure that I didn’t have to wait around for years to watch her die of old age since I wouldn’t give her a forever.”

“Oh, Oberyn.” Your blood ran cold at his words, and you knew that he’d heard your sharp intake of breath. “That’s… how could someone do that to you?” You knew that he’d loved the woman, but you thought she’d been selfish - especially when it came to Ellaria. And if she knew what avenging his family meant, she just tried to manipulate him. And that’s even worse.

“I don’t know. But she did die, and despite what she’d done, it … hurt to lose her. Before you, she was the last person I placed under my protection.” He sniffed, saying your name. “For four hundred years, there hasn’t been anyone else I have wanted to protect. Not even Cameron. Not even when I knew his life was in danger. Because the memory of Isabel - and what she believed that mark would eventually mean was so strong.”

He used one hand to ease your head away from his chest, tilting it to the side so that he could stare at the skin of your throat, leaving you to wonder at his thoughts. Do you regret it? Do you wish you’d asked? Do you wish you’d waited?

“Our marks of protection are all slightly different, but they all require …” He smiled briefly, raising his thumb so that the ring caught some of the light. “The right components.” You’d wanted to ask about the process but didn’t know how - especially since you didn’t have a clue where to start, so you were glad that he brought it up on his own. “It can be made from any metal, but most of us that are … ancient choose gold. It is melted down by an elder, and then some of our blood is added to the molten liquid. Even a few drops are powerful, which is why when I bit you, I pressed the sigil to your skin. I healed the space around it with my tongue, but… the metal itself healed that area… and since the metal bears the spear of House Martell… it remains on your skin, a visible reminder of just how important you are to me.”

“I wish it was visible for me, especially after seeing Ellaria, Tyene and Toban’s reactions to it.” The words slipped out - and at the realization of their implication, you sat straight up, eyes wide. Oh, no. I didn’t mean to… Especially after what we just talked about. Now he’s going to think -

“I wish you could see it too. But for right now … you can feel it.” He reached for you again, fingers trailing over your skin and sending heat throughout your body. And when he positioned his hand the same way he had the night he’d marked you, you gasped at the surge of warmth, the corners of his mouth lifting briefly as he gauged your reaction. “I’d almost forgotten what it feels like.” He leaned closer, curling his fingers slightly. “This is a good reminder.” Of what?

There were plenty of ways to interpret his words, but you chose to take them at face value - that he was simply happy to be around someone that understood the significance of what he’d given them - and didn’t try to take things a step further or ask for clarification. Even though I want to, and he has to know it by now. “I’m glad something good came out of this mess.” Letting the blanket drop, you pulled one hand free, raking your fingers through his hair. “Even something small.”

“It is not small, believe me.” He let go of your throat, his hand dropping to your shoulder and squeezing. “But I still have not told you about Cameron, and that’s what I promised to do.”

“We don’t have anywhere to be tomorrow. I can sleep in.” He smiled at that, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “But yes. Tell me about him, please. And maybe something about Toban, too. Because -”

“Toban means well. He always has. And while I wouldn’t call it jealousy, because it’s clear he would do anything for her, the connection that Ellaria has with him has … started to bother me more as the years pass.” He rolled his eyes. “Our gifts are another thing that isn’t guaranteed, but depending on your lineage, they’re more or less likely. With Ellaria, they are very likely, since she’s one of the first.”

You’d assumed that to be the case about her age, but with the confirmation, you realized just how special your circumstances were - and how lucky Oberyn was. Because she barely saved him. And so anyone younger might not have.

“Ellaria can see the past via touch. Toban’s ability is to read situations and circumstances like no one I have ever met before. Tyene … well, she is able to convince anyone to do just about anything, and doesn’t hesitate to tell you what she thinks about it.”

You grinned at the admission, lifting a brow. “I’m not surprised by that, especially after the way she greeted me for the first time.”

He smiled, too, the man nodding. “Her treatment of you is how I knew she accepted you, but I was surprised that she did it as quickly as she did.”

“I like her, Oberyn. I’m glad that Ellaria turned her. She fits well with the two of you…. And Toban.” Dropping your hands to settle them in your lap, you cocked your head to the side. “What is your gift, though? You must have one, if the three of them do.”

“Nothing as exciting as seeing the past or knowing the future or the power of persuasion.” He sighed, the rise and fall of his chest a strange sight. “My… gift is also somewhat of a curse. The depth of my humanity is what I carry with me, no matter how much I’ve tried to ignore it sometimes. Despite my hesitation when it comes to getting attached, when it happens … I cannot help the way it makes me feel… and act, when the situation calls for it.”

“How is that a curse?”

“I haven’t been a human in 2,000 years. At that age, most of us have long since forgotten what it’s like to experience things the same way humans do. But I have never been able to disassociate from that part of myself entirely. I’ve tried to, but it has never worked for long.” He closed his eyes, pausing. “And that brings me to Cameron.”

“I’m going to stay quiet, Oberyn, and just let you talk. Because if I interrupt, I’ll -”

“Thank you. There aren’t many that know this full story, so…” He slipped a hand under the blanket and then under your top, his large palm pressed to your side. “That will help.”

You didn’t know what to expect when it came to the man’s story, but once he started speaking, you were enraptured - and wouldn’t have wanted to interject without his encouragement.

“Ellaria and I have done many things throughout the years to earn a living, finding ways to adapt to the times at hand and use current events to our advantage. Some of the stories about our kind are true, but there are others that aren’t. For example, some of us are quite persuasive, like Tyene, but we can’t just … bend people’s minds to our will without a second thought. Luckily, by the time I was turned, Ellaria had already amassed quite a fortune that she kept secret. Her name may have been Sand then, yet she was anything but poor. Those funds, along with what I was able to take away from my own family’s vaults throughout the years were more than we needed.”

He hummed, glancing down at you and then back out at the skyline, and you used the opportunity to take in his profile, parts of his face silhouetted in shadow, though it only made him more appealing.

“At the time I met Cameron, Ellaria and I were operating a network of Speakeasies on the East Coast. It was good money, easy money. And it was simple for us to attract visitors, because almost everyone was looking for a place to drink and socialize where they could be themselves in every way.”

You didn’t need clarification on that. When it came to Oberyn, excess was the norm, and he’d never been one to hide his true nature, or his desires. Sex and alcohol and freedom? People must have loved them back then. He stroked over your skin with his fingertips, humming low in his throat before he continued.

“Cameron was … special. He visited one of our locations in The Bowery, and caught my eye from across the room. I had two beautiful women in my lap and he still devoured me with his gaze as though they were not there at all. His confidence was… alluring. He wasn’t shy about what he wanted, and I liked that. We began a relationship, and I quickly realized that I cared for him, despite promising myself that I would keep things … loose. I did travel a lot, between locations, and Ellaria often filled in in my absence, so he got to know her, too.”

Oberyn lowered his head and rested it against yours, collecting himself. “Many like us came to America then, to take advantage of the rapidly expanding cities and the nightlife. There was a group - the one Toban told you about? From Braavos? They were also attempting to operate in the same market as we were, and it got … contentious.”

You weren’t surprised because Toban had given you a heads up, but that didn’t make the story any easier to hear. He’s been through so much. He’s had to adapt over and over and it’s still happening.

“I wanted to be sure that Cameron was safe, and since he knew what I was, it was a little easier. We trained together. He stayed close to me when I traveled. I told him what to look for when it came to potential attempts on his life. The sell swords attacked one of our clubs one night, burning it to the ground because they thought we were there … and that is when Cameron and I disappeared for a while. We needed to lay low, and it was during that time that he asked me to protect him with my mark. But I was hesitant, and you know why.”

“I do.” You mumbled the words, agreeing. “And I know how hard it probably still was for you to tell him no.”

“Punishing Cameron for Isabel’s behavior was unfair of me, and I know it. I knew it then, but that changed nothing. He asked me - repeatedly, why I would not protect him if I claimed to love him. All I could say was that I had never before used the mark as a last resort, and I didn’t want to start with him. There were many Others from Braavos, but they were clumsy, and I thought … I thought my presence would be enough. But Cameron got tired of me telling him no, and so he turned to Toban, who was spending a lot of time with Ellaria then, and one thing led to another.”

“Would … would the bond he felt with Toban because of the mark have changed if you’d turned him later? How does that work?”

“I do not know.” He shook his head, the man’s frown deepening. “For many, offering the mark is the precursor to offering them a second life. It is … I don’t think I have ever come across someone that is protected by one and a Child of another. But in Cameron’s case, it wouldn’t have mattered. He grew to resent me in the months following Toban’s decision, and his final request of me was just a last effort to make me choose.”

“Were he and Toban -”

“No, they were never together. Not to my knowledge, anyway. Toban marked him because time was running out, and it was either that or watch me lose someone else I cared for before I was ready, because they would have eventually killed him. It was only a matter of time. He turned him because after the mark, the two of them became close, since Cameron wanted less and less to do with me. After your first, it … I’m told that it becomes less likely that the bond is so strong between a Maker and a Child, so to Toban, it was as simple as granting a request. Cameron told me what was happening, and then the two of them left and were out of touch for twenty years.”

You found it hard to believe that Toban had been out of touch with Ellaria for so long, but stayed quiet, thoughts buzzing in your head. Oberyn’s differing use of his mark of protection through the years was staggering - from overusing it to not using it to choosing to use it sparingly to only offering it when the possibility of forever was on the table, but denying it to someone that was in immediate danger. And then there’s me. How do I factor into this? “You never considered turning Cameron?”

“Not once. I did love him. We were close. He knew me well, and we were happy together, but it wasn’t … I never felt the same as I did with Isabel, and that was a problem for me. He’s happy now, I’ve seen him once since he became one of us, but … the bond between us does not exist anymore. And as upset as I was with Toban at the time, his … interference was for the best. It kept Cameron alive, and it kept me from being forced to make a decision that I would have regretted later.”

You couldn’t help it - stifling a yawn in the middle of his words, one hand rising to cover your mouth and hide it. Shit. “I’m sorry, Oberyn. It’s just that it’s late, and you’re comfortable, and -”

“It is. And I am.” He laughed quietly, the sound rumbling through his chest. “I am almost done, and then I will take you to bed.” Wait, what? “To sleep,” he clarified, lips finding your temple. “I just need to explain my feelings toward Toban, and then … then you will understand more.”

“Before you do that, I have something to ask.” Leaning back, you looked up as he stared down at you, the man nodding twice. “Tyene offered to change me if you wouldn’t. Toban said that he was glad things wouldn’t be the same with me as they were with Cameron, and that he looked forward to getting to know me when this was over … why? They’ve known me for a few days, and they’re already acting like I’m going to be around for a long time, and that they want it to happen.”

“They’re my family. They understand that everything going on right now is … fluid. But the fact that I acted so quickly and definitively with you, despite you being in no danger from any Others … it tells them everything they need to know about my feelings.” It was an answer, but only a partial one - though it would have to be enough. Because there are more important things to worry about.

“What if there are Others working with the Lannisters that Tyrion doesn’t know about? What if that’s a surprise? What if -”

“That is nothing to worry about. It is a rule set by our Elders that we give the Lannisters nothing. They’ve been trying to figure out how our blood works for centuries, and have offered unbelievable sums of money for assistance. But despite the fact that not all of the Others have a vendetta against them like mine or Ellaria’s, no one is willing to help them, because it means they’d be completely cut off if they lived long enough… and survived my retaliation against them.”

Toban’s words - no one would dare cross the Red Viper - echoed in your mind, and despite yourself, you shivered. If he has that much power over the entire community, then … then the fact that I’ve been accepted by him means even more than I thought it did. “I’m glad to hear it. And soon, helping the Lannisters won’t be something any of you have to worry about.”

“No, it won’t be.” He hummed and then squinted, though you knew that his vision was perfect. “The sun will start to rise in about 40 minutes, so I’m going to make this quick.” Quietly encouraging him to continue, you squeezed his bicep. “I have denied myself very little in my first life… or in this life. But I am consciously denying myself the connection that we have with our first. Over and over, I have had the opportunity to choose someone to fill that role, and I have walked away every time. Toban was Ellaria’s first, and the bond they have … as much as I want to experience that, it hasn’t ever felt right. She turned him with nothing but love for him in her heart, and I … I’ve already told you what I feel. The hate. The rage. The sadness. They are not all I feel, but they are always there, like a shadow. Making someone an offer of eternal life shouldn’t come with the burden of those things.”

No, it shouldn’t. “Only you can decide what the right time is, or who the right person is, Oberyn. And you told me the other night that once this is over? You might be able to make that offer to someone. I want that for you. And whoever it is is going to be the luckiest person in the world, because you -”

“No.” Using one hand, he turned your face toward his, the corners of his mouth lifting in a tiny smile. “I will be the luckiest man on this planet if they say yes.” Oberyn kissed you softly, his lips parted so that your lower one fit between them.

He didn’t say you, don’t get your hopes up. But it was impossible not to - all of Oberyn’s words and explanations aligned with his actions and your presence in his life, and for the first time, you allowed yourself to believe that he was referring to you when he mentioned an after for someone.

“I do not hate Toban. I could never truly despise someone that holds such a large portion of Ellaria’s heart. But he has something I haven’t been able to seriously consider for myself, and seeing him … and them together is a reminder of that.”

You kissed him when he was done speaking, puckered lips trailing over his and then to his cheek, pausing over the space where his dimple appeared each time he smiled and then moving back to his mouth. You lingered there, wanting to deepen it, but Oberyn decided for you, shaking his head and leaning back. “We need to go inside. If I get carried away with you out here, the sun will not be pleasant.”

“Of course.” Pushing yourself to your feet, you kept the blanket wrapped around you, staring down at where he still sat. “Plus, unless I missed something in the last few hours, you and Ellaria haven’t had enough time to take care of what you need to, so… getting carried away isn’t an option.”

“We have not.” He stood, too, reaching out to put an arm around your shoulders. “But there are other things that you and I could do that would make me lose track of time.”

“Yeah?” Feeling bold, you slid your arm around his back, hand landing on his hip and your fingertips slipping beneath the waistband of the pants he wore. “Are any of those possible in that bedroom with the drapes shut?”

“If you’re not too tired, we can find out.”

You were exhausted, but his words sent a jolt of adrenaline through you, your eyes moving to the partially open door. I’ll never be too tired to find out with you, Oberyn. What you’d discussed had likely taken a lot out of him, but you never would have known based on the way he led you back into the bedroom and then fluidly worked to secure the door and drapes - ensuring that not even a sliver of sunlight would leak through when it rose.

You went into the bathroom while he did that, taking a few moments when you’d finished to stare at yourself in the mirror. You could feel the mark he’d given you - a dull thrum against the side of your throat, and even though you knew it wouldn’t do any good, you leaned in and squinted at your reflection. I know what it’s supposed to look like, but I really wish I could see it just once.

And you didn’t even mean as a result of being turned - though if that were the case, you’d be able to see it any time you looked into the mirror. I just mean … Swirling your fingertips slowly over your skin, you sighed. I want to see what he sees.

A knock at the door startled you. When it pushed open a few seconds later, Oberyn peaking around the edge, you straightened up and smiled. “You can come in. I guess.”

He stepped inside, leaving the door open behind him. Oh, he took his shirt off. “The room is ready. We will be able to rest for as long as we need to.”

“What do you do while I… while the person you’re in bed with is sleeping?” You watched his expression in the mirror, both of Oberyn’s eyebrows shooting upward. “You don’t really sleep, so -”

“I do need rest. When it’s a human I’m with, my body just sort of goes into a … meditative state. I’m still alert and aware in case of danger, but if someone were to see me, they’d think I was asleep.” He stepped behind you, extending his arms so that he could grip the edges of the counter on either side of your body. “You have seen me actually sleep, though. After the Mountain? My body was doing everything possible to heal, and that meant being truly unconscious.”

Oberyn pressed his chest to your back, never breaking eye contact with your reflection. “So it’s like a recharge. Even though you technically don’t need it, you still… keep up appearances.”

“I do.” He nodded, turning his head to press his lips to the angle of your jaw. “When I have a reason to.” I’m the reason right now? “I also must admit to something.” He kissed you again, mouth moving closer to your ear. “In the last few days, I have spent more than a few hours just watching you sleep.”

“Creep.” But you felt your entire body growing warm at his words, a sharp inhale of breath your only response when he let go of the counter and wound his arms around you to pull you even closer. “Oberyn.”

“I have been trying to figure out what it is about you that has drawn me in so quickly.” He hummed, the man pushing your shirt up and gliding his fingers over your skin. “Why I was so … moved to do whatever it took to protect you, even when I was … impaired and hadn’t had the urge to give that gift to anyone in hundreds of years.”

“Does the why matter?” Sighing as he stroked the skin beneath your belly button, you tipped your head back, resting it against his shoulder. “It doesn’t to me, because whatever the reason, it means … you’re in my life now, and I’m in yours. Whatever that means going forward is something that we’ll have to figure out, but …” Closing your eyes you took a deep breath, pressing your lips together. “Do you regret what you did? Do you wish you hadn’t been -”

“No.” It was almost a growl, Oberyn’s palm flattening against your belly, the other one moving up your body and sliding beneath the neckline of your shirt so that he could settle it over your heart. “I regret the timing, yes, and not being able to explain what I wanted to do beforehand… but when it comes to choosing you?” He nuzzled against the side of your face, his upper lip curling. “There is no regret.”

It made you feel better.

When you turned your head toward him, he was waiting, the man’s lips already parted so that he could pull yours between them, the scrape of his teeth making you groan. Reaching up, you used one hand to grip his hair, fingers twisting in the silver-streaked locks. He pressed harder on your chest, and once again, you knew he was monitoring your heartbeat. But this time, it’s not because he’s afraid it’s too slow.

He kissed you harder, his mouth moving with yours - and the hand on your abdomen moved lower, the tips of his fingers skimming the waistband of your sweats. You whimpered then, Oberyn swallowing the sound - but it only seemed to encourage him. Wait, though. Wait because …

Pulling away from him with a gasp, you let out a shuddering breath, and were unsurprised to see mischief in his eyes, one of his brows raised. “Can, um…” Fighting to catch your breath, you chewed on your lower lip and wrinkled your nose. This is stupid. “Can they hear us? I know this is a big apartment, but …”

To his credit, Oberyn didn’t outright laugh at you. Instead he just murmured your name and leaned in to kiss you, his fingers curling slightly. “Our hearing is very good, yes. But with age and experience, we are able to … tune things out. It becomes like background noise for us unless we’re actively listening. I cannot say that they won’t all know that something is going on in here because of your heartbeat or any noises we make, but I can assure you that Ellaria and Toban are quite occupied themselves, and Tyene is more like a teenager than you know.”

“Doesn’t want to hear either of her parents having sex? Got it.” You grinned at that, feeling marginally more at ease. “I just didn’t want to be rude, Oberyn. I know you’ll tell me that I’m worrying for nothing, but …”

“I certainly haven’t been listening to them, I can promise you that.” The look in his eyes changed briefly, but then he was focused on you again, the intensity back. “If it makes you uncomfortable, I understand.” You considered his words for a few seconds, breaking eye contact and then closing both of yours.

Everything you knew about Oberyn Martell - from Westerosi history books and actually meeting him in person - told you that while he had very few limitations when it came to his behavior, he was considerate of others when the situation called for it.

He wouldn’t force you to do anything, and his honesty about the fact that three supernatural beings also in the apartment could probably hear everything happening was proof that you had a choice about whether or not to move forward. But they all already know how he is. They know how he feels, and how I feel, and …

“I want this, Oberyn.” His hold on you tightened, and when you lifted your head again to lock eyes with him in the mirror, you nodded twice. “But, the first time we’re actually together? I’d prefer if it was just the two of us, you know?”

“Of course.” The hand at your chest dropped a few inches, Oberyn’s wrist caught on the neckline of your shirt as he palmed one breast. “No one to listen. No one to interrupt. No one to …” He pressed his lips to your cheek and then moved them down, kissing the space just beneath your ear and then against the column of your throat. “No one to make either of us leave that bed before we’re ready.”

You moaned at that - the sound loud, and when he latched his lips against your skin and sucked, you did it again, not caring at all who was listening. He wasn’t biting you, but part of you wished that he would - and you didn’t know what exactly that said about you. “I can’t wait.” The thought of you and Oberyn - uninterrupted and in a bed together, the man finally able to give you what you both desperately wanted - was enough to make your knees shake.

But he kept you upright, releasing your skin and then smiling against it as he continued to kiss his way forward. “On that night,” he whispered, lips moving over the part of your collarbone that was exposed, “on that night, I am going to kiss every single part of you that I marred when I was not well.”

“Oberyn, you don’t have to -”

“It is not for you.” He shook his head, the hand at your waist sliding marginally lower while the one on your chest moved in a slow circle, one fingertip circling your nipple. “It is for me. And it is the only way I can begin to forgive myself.” You knew that telling him that you’d already forgiven him was unnecessary - he’d made the decision to make up for what he’d done, and you couldn’t sway him. “But for now…” He took a step forward, the small movement aligning your thighs with the edge of the counter. “This is for you.”

He removed his hand from beneath your shirt and then used both of his to pull it upward, the man silent as he moved. Raising your arms to allow him to fully remove it, you let out a shuddering breath at the sight of your bare torso in the mirror, watching as he wrapped his arms around you again. He’s just watching me. Watching … us.

The heat of his body was soft against your skin, the man’s palms warmer where they pressed to it - but you were focused on the intensity of his gaze, his eyes following the movement of his fingers as he touched you. “Oberyn, what are …” You gasped when his right hand slid down your stomach, fingers gliding beneath your waistband again - but instead of continuing down, he held it there, humming appreciatively. “You seem pleased with yourself, Prince Oberyn.”

That got a laugh out of him, the smile spreading across his face as he palmed your chest with his other hand. But when Oberyn said your name next, there was no trace of laughter in his voice. Instead, it was low and full of want, his eyes blazing in the mirror’s reflection. “You’ll be pleased in a few minutes, too. That is a promise.”

You managed little more than a quiet sigh in response, but you nodded, never taking your eyes off of him. He was pressed against you from behind, the man’s body firm, and when he used one foot to nudge yours apart, you moved. Not much - just enough to widen your stance for him. Please touch me, Oberyn. Please, just …

Reaching up with one hand, you dragged your fingers through the hair laying against the nape of his neck as you finally turned your head toward him, your upper body twisting slightly. It was enough to allow you to kiss him, your mouth pressed to his as your fingers curled.

Despite his age and his circumstances - and the fact that your friends had the element of surprise, you knew that nothing was promised beyond the moments you were living in. Especially for me, you thought as you continued to kiss him, lips parting in a signal to him that you wanted more. Because out of everyone, I’m the only one without a contingency plan or immortal blood.

He must have noticed a change in your heartbeat, because Oberyn pulled away moments later, his frown deep. “What is wrong? Do you want me to stop?”

“No. I don’t.” Closing your eyes, you bit down on your lower lip. “I’m just … so much could go wrong, Oberyn. And I’m scared that I’ll lose you before …” You pulled your hand from his head, using it to cover your mouth. Just say it. “I’m scared that I’ll lose you before I can really get to know you. Or that something will happen to me, and then…” And then you’ll lose someone else you care about earlier than planned.

“You will not lose me.” He leaned in, running his nose along your temple. “Not during this conflict, and definitely not tonight.” He kissed you then, lips landing on the corner of one eye. “And nothing is going to happen to you… nothing that you don’t like, anyway.” You felt his smile, the man pausing before he spoke again - that time, directly into your ear. “Let me take care of you, issa ōños.”

You knew it was Valyrian, but you didn’t know what he’d said - and didn’t want to stop him and ask, especially when his hand moved even lower, the edges of his nails dragging against your sensitive skin and making your hips jerk backward into his. He was hard and made no effort to conceal that from you, Oberyn bending one knee and sliding that foot between both of your legs so that you could feel the length of him against the back of your hip.

It also stabilized you, your lips curving into a tiny smile at the realization. But that was cut off when he kissed you again, Oberyn’s lips crushing yours with what you could only describe as a slight desperation. You have nothing to prove to me, Oberyn. Nothing at all.

The hand on your chest moved upward, palm pausing over your heart for long moments as the kiss continued, desperation turning into something like need as he felt the steady - though elevated - beat of it. He nodded once without breaking the kiss, and when you circled your hips slowly, leaning the weight of your upper body into his, Oberyn was ready.

He licked into your mouth, the drag of his tongue long and slow. It took you a few seconds to realize that he’d dropped his hand again, slipping his fingers between your legs and curving them - the breadth of them pressed against the apex of your thighs. His touch was welcome, and when he stroked you with one long finger, you moaned into his mouth, your hand rising again to let your fingers tangle in his hair.

He continued with only one finger, though he sped up after a minute or so, the man not doing anything but touching you until he broke the kiss to let you breathe. You gasped a breath into your lungs, eyes squeezed shut, and when Oberyn’s hand moved upward from your chest and to your throat, you let it out shakily at what you knew was coming.

He made contact with the mark on your neck at the same time one finger slipped into you, Oberyn humming as you breathed out his name, the sound so quiet that only someone with his hearing would have known. Your muscles clenched around his finger, your body accommodating him immediately - though you wanted more, and knew that he’d want you to say so.

You opened your mouth to tell him, turning your head just enough so that you could steal a quick kiss, but when your lips met, you felt the sharp sting of his teeth - the man nicking your lip and then snapping his head back before you could even react. His fangs are out. Is that new or has it been that way every time we’ve been close like this? “I am sorry, I didn’t mean to -”

“Don’t apologize for what you are, Oberyn.” You dragged your tongue slowly over the area he’d bitten, your tongue coming away coated in the tang of copper. You met his eyes again - directly that time, and not in the mirror - and shook your head without looking away. “I can handle it, and I want to.” It was the truth - you needed him to know that no part of him or who he was or what he wanted frightened you or made you uncomfortable in any way, and that you trusted him to toe the line of safety with you in every situation. “Can…” Swallowing, you nodded. “Can I see?”

He hesitated but it was brief. Oberyn’s hand dropped from your neck back to your upper chest, the motion of his other hand paused, too. “Yes. You can.” He opened his mouth again, tipping his head back and baring his teeth - and you watched as his fangs descended, the sharp points coming into view with no change in his expression. Oberyn stayed still, the man’s eyes on your face as you stared at what he was showing you.

They were beautiful - much like the rest of him was - and without thinking about it, you raised your hand slowly, fingertips caressing his cheek as your thumb hovered just in front of his open mouth. “Does it hurt?” You spoke quietly, wondering what he felt in the rhythm of your heartbeat. “When they come down?”

“No.” He prodded at one with the tip of his tongue, your eyes following the movement. “It never has.” You wanted to touch one of them - to press the pad of your thumb against the point, testing the sharpness, but had no idea if that would be crossing the line of acceptability. “People used to fear them, even after I told them what I was. I became … adept at keeping them hidden. At not letting my natural reaction to … others allow them to be visible.”

“So they come out when you’re turned on?” Arching a brow, you grinned at him again. “Good to know.” The edge of your nail caught on his lower lip, and then Oberyn snapped his teeth at you, playfully nipping at it before turning his head to kiss the inside of your wrist with a lingering press of his lips. “Oberyn.” You got his attention with a single word, his gaze rising to lock with yours again. “You have my permission to … bite me if that’s what you want.”

It sounded stupid coming from you - the words leaving your lips and echoing in the small space. But he probably needs to hear it, because he was so afraid I’d be mad or off-put and … I’m not. “Is it what you want?”

He pulled you closer to his body, Oberyn’s fingers curling against your core, and you nodded in return. “Yes. I want you, and that urge is a part of who you are, so… it is.” His eyes flashed at your admission, the man’s pupils widening - and then he was kissing you again, none of the previous restraint present.

Instead, he took the lead, his mouth pressed to yours with some force as the hand between your legs began to move again. But that time, Oberyn went with two fingers, much as he had done in the safehouse. It felt better - your body’s immediate reaction to cant your hips forward over and over into his touch, chasing the pressure of the heel of his hand on each backstroke.

He bit your lip again before he moved his mouth to your jaw, the points of his teeth scraping over it and then dragging along your cheek, the man’s plush lips trailing a second path over your heated skin.

Closing your eyes and breathing hard, you angled your head away and gave him a better route to your neck, knowing full well that he wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize the mark - but still wanting his mouth on it, wanting to feel the heat of his lips as the effect of the claim he’d made on you coursed through your body. Not a claim, you reminded yourself as he bit on your earlobe before releasing it. A promise. A reminder that he wants to keep me safe.

And Oberyn did press his lips to your mark moments later, along with a twist of his wrist that left his fingers buried in you but also allowed him to circle his thumb over the spot just above them, your hips jerking back once more. His kiss burned, the connection between you electric in its intensity, and you forced your eyes open, watching what was going on in the mirror.

It was a sight you’d never forget - one of his hands pressed so tightly to your chest that your flesh dimpled beneath it, the other hidden beneath the sweats you still wore, the motion of the fabric over the movement of his fingers and the flex of the muscles in his wrist and forearm something that you could have watched for hours.

But it was his head that you focused on, the crown of dark curls streaked with silver repositioned after only a few seconds and giving you a view of his brow and nose as he moved away from your throat and back to the place where your neck met your shoulder.

You didn’t even notice your own bare skin - chest on full display in the warm light of the vanity fixture - because you were so focused on him and what he was doing. But nothing could have prepared you for Oberyn raising his eyes and turning his head so that he could rest his chin on your shoulder.

He curled his fingers inside of you at the same moment he smirked, and then he opened his mouth, letting you watch as his fangs descended once more. He’s going to … Oh, he’s…

You knew it was coming and yet you were still unprepared for the way it felt the moment he sunk his teeth into your skin, the man’s low moan at the taste of you sending a shiver of pleasure throughout your entire body. Your first instinct was to close your eyes but you forced yourself to keep them open, watching as your mouth dropped open, lips forming his name though you didn’t speak it out loud.

He didn’t actually drink from you the same way he had the first night. Instead, Oberyn sipped slowly, timing the swallows with the strokes of his fingers, your body following his lead. You lifted one hand and laid it over the one he had on your chest, using the other one to grip the edge of the counter even though it was unnecessary.

You wanted to watch - wanted to see the exact moment you fell apart from his touch and his mouth, but instead of doing that, you closed your eyes and let yourself relax into him, the man supporting your weight, even as your hips continued to move in tandem with his hand.

There was pressure building in your lower belly - the result of his touch and his bite, and if you could sense it, you knew that he likely could, too. But I haven’t touched him. I haven’t … he hasn’t… You groaned, forcing your eyes open and saying his name, the man looking up without pulling his mouth away from your skin. His eyes were dark - the pupils so wide that you couldn’t tell where they ended, and there was a tiny trickle of blood at one corner of his mouth that made you gasp when you saw it. That’s my … oh, shit.

But it didn’t deter you, and when you spoke moments later, your voice was low, though you heard the certainty in your tone. “Touch yourself, Oberyn. I know you want to.”

His eyes rolled back and then he shut them, pulling the hand on your chest out from beneath yours as he sucked on your shoulder, and then you felt that hand slide down your body before it joined the other one between your legs. What the fuck is he…

Before you could even finish your thought, Oberyn deftly replaced his first hand with the second, never missing a beat in the rhythm of his touch. Oh, he’s … oh, shit. Humming, you watched as he removed the first hand - his fingers glistening with your slick - and drew it back between your bodies, pushing the pants he wore down so that he could do what you’d told him to.

He grunted against your skin and then you felt him move - stroking himself slowly, the man’s knuckles brushing against your back and hip. He sped up the motion of his other hand, and you glanced down, catching a glimpse of what was going on behind you - his large hand wrapped around his length, lower body pulled away from yours enough to give him the space he needed to glide easily.

You had no idea what a vampire’s release would be like - or if it would be anything at all - but before you could dwell on the thought, Oberyn’s thumb found a sweet spot again, the man pressing down against your skin before circling slowly, another prolonged suck on your shoulder making you gasp.

It was almost too much - definitely more than you’d experienced with him the first time he’d touched you, but at the same time, it was nowhere close to being enough. Will it ever be? You wondered as you forced your eyes to stay open, gaze focused on the flex of the tendons in his wrist and the way the length of him looked - tip flushed, the rest of him and his hand coated in you.

Without warning, Oberyn released your shoulder and lifted his head, and you let out a moan at what he left behind - a double set of puncture wounds on your skin, thin trails of blood oozing from them and more of the same coating his lower lip. He looked almost drunk, his eyelids heavy, and for a few seconds, you thought he was going to stay like that… but you were wrong.

“Give me your hand.” Voice low, he made the demand, Oberyn’s tongue cleaning the blood from his mouth. “Over mine.” Ducking his head, you felt as he kissed the place he bit once more, followed by the drag of his tongue, which felt almost as good as the bite itself. But you moved your hand at the same time, making a guess that he wasn’t asking for help touching you and reaching back so that you could wrap your fingers over his mid-stroke.

He grunted at your touch, and before you could question him further, it was your hand resting against his skin, Oberyn’s larger one securely atop yours and guiding you. He was warm against your palm, the heft of him large but not uncomfortable, and as you took over, Oberyn’s focus shifted back to the hand he had between your legs, the speed of those thrusts increasing, as did the pace of his thumb.

It felt amazing - better than anything that had ever been done to your body before, and Oberyn knew it, the man’s smile turning lazy as he focused on the mirror. “Normally I would prolong this,” he murmured, mouth moving along your skin. “To see how long you could remain right on the edge.” No, please. Not tonight. I just want … “But that is not what either of us needs tonight.” He sighed, mouthing at the base of your throat and then parting his lips to bite again - that time without his fangs. “Tonight you just need me.”

It was the truth - and it didn’t matter how or why he knew it, and so you nodded, swallowing and tipping your head back as you paused your hand long enough to swirl your thumb over his head, the man twitching at the touch. Squeezing once in agreement, you then resumed your movement - and Oberyn changed his, holding his fingers still inside you while the third kept moving - the pace increasing.

“Oberyn!” You cried out, your voice much louder than you’d anticipated, but it only encouraged him, the muscles in your abdomen tightening as your toes curled, Oberyn’s hand squeezing yours once more before releasing it. He moved that hand up to your chest again, the weight of his touch grounding you and holding you tight against his body. Even though your eyes snapped closed, you knew why he was touching you there - knew what he was searching for. And I hope he likes it, you thought even as your lips fell open in a series of pants, breath shaky. My fucking heart is racing, and …

“There it is,” he whispered, followed by a quiet hum of approval. “There you go.”

You fell apart moments later, your body nearly convulsing at his touch - your free hand slapping against the countertop as the one you had on him stuttered in its motion, grip tightening. Your muscles clenched around his fingers, and Oberyn kept them still, the man swearing in another language - one that you didn’t recognize before turning to kiss the underside of your jaw, the press of his lips against the pulse in your neck welcome.

He eased you through it, his touch lengthening your orgasm, but once the haze of pleasure had begun to subside, you took a deep, shaky breath and used the hand on the counter to touch his wrist, stopping the motion. Stop. Stop, Oberyn. “Let me turn around, Oberyn.”

He slipped his fingers from inside of you, but didn’t pull his hand free from beneath your sweats. You let him go long enough to turn and face him, knees wobbly and your chest heaving, but when you met his eyes, you saw understanding in them. “Are you -”

“Be quiet.” Wetting your lips, you shook your head. “Be quiet and let me take care of you now.” His eyes flashed but he didn’t speak, and when you touched him again, your grip was certain - your confidence growing with each passing second.

He crowded you against the counter again, and without thinking, you maneuvered yourself so that you were sitting on the edge of it, legs spread so that Oberyn could step between them. It gave you better access, and when you reached up with your free hand, gripping the hair at the back of his neck and urging him to kiss you, Oberyn didn’t hesitate.

It was a deep kiss, Oberyn’s tongue seeking entrance to your mouth immediately, and as he kissed you, his hips began to rock forward, the tiny thrusts forcing more of him through your grip. He held you with both hands - one of them pressed to the center of your back, the other one gripping the back of your neck and holding you in place, but despite the power behind it, his grip was gentle.

You felt his fangs again when he bit on your lower lip but he didn’t pierce the skin, and when you gasped, the sound turning into a moan moments later, Oberyn groaned too, his hips moving faster. He broke the kiss, humming out your name. “I am close. I… where do y-”

“Anywhere.” Pressing a kiss to his lips, you shook your head. “Anywhere, Oberyn.” He grunted at your words but didn’t speak again, and when Oberyn kissed you hard, mouth sealed over yours, you knew that close meant imminent.

Your heart racing again, you swirled your thumb over his tip and squeezed, the speed of your hand increasing as Oberyn’s lips parted, though he didn’t pull back from you. Forcing your eyes open, you tilted your head down to stare between your bodies, twisting your wrist so that when he came, it would hit your belly - and that change was all he needed, the man pulsing in your hand as he followed you over the edge.

It coated your skin, pearly streaks hitting your stomach, the volume increasing with each stroke of your hand until he was nearly shuddering in your grip, Oberyn’s muscles twitching though he didn’t seem to have any trouble staying on his feet. “Fuck.” He swore, the sound beautiful to your ears. “You just … you are …”

“Hold that thought, Prince Oberyn.” With one more stroke - and a final squeeze - you released him, fingertips trailing up his stomach until you could press your hand over his heart. It was strange to feel nothing beneath your palm, but it wasn’t difficult to imagine what it would have felt like - his chest rising and falling rapidly while he struggled to catch his breath, his lips parted as he sucked air between them. But it doesn’t matter, because he’s alive in all the ways that count. Your hand moved higher, fingers curling around the side of his throat and your thumb sliding over his jawline. “Ok, now you can finish.”

“I just did.” He raised an eyebrow. “All over your -” You laughed, eyes closing and your chin dropping, but when Oberyn said your name, you looked back up at him. “I know you heard me earlier, heard what I called you?” Oh, he’s … Nodding, you took a deep breath and held it. “Issa ōños, it means … it means my light. And that is what you are to me, because you’ve shown me something I haven’t seen in a very long time.”

Your heart was racing, his explanation of the words much more intimate than you’d ever expected them to be. “I have?” He nodded, both of his hands slipping down toward your waist.

“The way forward. Hope. What it means to … care for someone again. I am beginning to see an end to the darkness I have lived with for so long.” You didn’t know what to say, and any of the things that crossed your mind seemed like too little - so you just leaned forward and kissed him gently, stroking the back of his head. When the kiss ended, neither of you said anything - but you didn’t separate, either, locked in place and holding each other, his forehead pressed to yours. We can’t stay here, though.

“We should get cleaned up, Oberyn. I need to lay down.” Sighing, you straightened up and looked into his eyes. “And I need to … figure out how to respond to what you just said, because -”

“No. You don’t. Not yet.” He smiled, the expression understanding. “I just wanted you to know.” The man backed off, though he was reluctant to let you go. “It is important that you know.”

He stepped away, giving you the room you needed to climb off of the counter and begin to clean up, doing the same thing beside you before pulling his pants back on. Everything he says is important. But that seems … very important. And I just … I don’t know what to think.

Luckily for you, there was plenty of time, since you had days before the engagement party and wedding, and you weren’t involved in every aspect of the attack plan. But it can wait until I wake up. You yawned, swaying on your feet as you dried your face off with a fluffy towel, but then you felt Oberyn’s arms around you again, his mouth right next to your ear. “It’s time for bed. You can barely stand.”

You didn’t argue, and only a few seconds later, you were horizontal on the comfortable mattress, the thick blanket covering you while Oberyn pressed against you from behind.

You were drowsy, and knew that it wouldn’t take long to fall asleep, but you forced yourself to speak one final time, clearing your throat without opening your eyes. “I know you won’t sleep, but I hope you get some rest.” He chuckled, his mouth pressed to the back of your shoulder. “I’ll see you when I wake up. I lo-”

You stopped yourself just in time, breath catching in your throat. Oh, no. Oh, I just almost… His arm tightened around you, Oberyn pulling you as close as he could. “I will be here.” I almost just fucked everything up. I almost ruined everything.

You were exhausted, but the racing of your heart at the near admission kept you awake for a long time. And if Oberyn noticed - which you knew that he did - he didn’t comment on it, his body still behind yours.

“You’re serious?” You looked back and forth between them, eyes wide. “Tyene? Toban? You’re telling me that -”

“Yes. We’ve all been cooped up in here for a week, and you haven’t been anywhere for almost two aside from coming here.” The girl grinned, holding out a hand. “We’re going out tonight.”

“But shouldn’t we -” You bit your lip, shaking your head. “Shouldn’t you two be worried about preparing for the wedding instead of worrying about babysitting a human? The engagement party is tomorrow, and…” Trailing off, you looked at Toban’s face, watching as he studied you. “That’s why we’re leaving.”

Closing your eyes, you nodded. It’s because the party is tomorrow. “After tomorrow, we lose the element of surprise.” Tyene stepped forward, glancing at Toban. “Or at least Oberyn and Ellaria do. So between then and the wedding, things will be … harder for us. Unless we go tonight, we won’t be able to until it’s all over because they might be looking.”

“And at that point, none of us will be hiding anymore.” Toban cleared his throat, saying your name. “So tonight, the three of us are going to leave the apartment, you are going to check in with someone that you know as proof of life, and Tyene and I are going to fuel up for what is coming.”

That was code for find someone to drink from, though he was tactful about admitting it. “That’s not the only reason we’re leaving.” You smiled at her, nodding, even though you felt a pang in your chest. “But alright. Let me get changed. I don’t think I want my first time out and around people in such a long time to be in sweatpants.” She grinned, turning and leaving the room, though Toban remained, the man eyeing you curiously. “What? What did -”

“He expects you to be upset.” Frowning, Toban shook his head. “But you aren’t… at least in the way it would make sense for you to be.”

“Oberyn told me about your gift.” You stood, taking a deep breath. “And you’re right, I do feel … something right now, but … two thousand years of history between them? I’ve known him for fifteen seconds in comparison. And if this is what needs to happen so that he can focus on what’s coming, there’s no way I can be mad about it.” You chewed on your lip and then shook your head. “This isn’t a shock to me, Toban. I knew it was going to happen.If anything, I’m surprised it took this long.”

He looked like he wanted to say something else, but instead closed his eyes, nodding. He doesn’t know what to say. “How long do you need to get ready?” Toban cleared his throat. “An hour?”

“No, not even close.” Glancing around the room, you shrugged. “Twenty minutes? A half hour?” He agreed and then followed Tyene out of the room, leaving you alone. There were plenty of clothes for you to choose from, and after checking the weather on one of the TV channels, you opted for a pair of jeans and a light colored tee, pulling a cardigan over it.

From there, you moved to the vanity, sliding onto the bench seat and reaching for the small bag of toiletries that included makeup, trying to decide whether or not you wanted to put in the effort. Not like I’m trying to impress anyone.

“I have warned them that if anything happens to you, they will answer to me.”

Turning your head toward the voice, you rolled your eyes when you saw Oberyn leaning against the doorway, his arms crossed. “You wouldn’t have agreed to let me leave this apartment if you thought something might happen.” He pushed off of the wall and moved toward where you sat, the man settling both hands on your shoulders. “It’ll be good to get outside, Oberyn, to be around other people again.”

“Are we not enough?” You thought about lying and then opted not to, setting the compact you held back down as you turned your head again to look up at him.

“It’s not that you aren’t enough. I just … I went from interacting with dozens of people every day and using all kinds of technology whenever I wanted to the confines of an apartment, no phone, and the same four faces for the last two weeks.” Aside from Clegane and Tyrion, that is. “It was a big change.”

“You’ll be back in that world full time soon enough.” He cleared his throat. “I’m … sorry that this is what your life has become. You should not have to hide here, with us. This is not your fight.”

“It is, though.” Eyeing yourself in the mirror, you shrugged. “It became my fight the second you kissed me at that party, Oberyn. And I’ll do whatever I can to help you win it.” Even if that means going out to a bar so that you can fuck the lingering effects of Ellaria’s blood from your system. “Besides, spending time with Toban and Tyene will be … interesting. I’m sure they’ll have a ton of stories to tell me, and with you and Ellaria out of earshot, they won’t have to worry about censoring themselves.”

He laughed at that but didn’t speak, his eyes on you as you applied mascara. You could see his reflection in the mirror, the man’s brow furrowed, and you wondered what it would actually take for him to speak up. I’ve never seen him like this. He twisted the ring on his thumb with two fingers, still silent when you picked up another brush - but Oberyn finally broke the silence a few seconds later, his tone full of confusion.

“You are calm. Your heartbeat is … steady.” He frowned, glancing up at the ceiling. “Yet you know what is going to happen when -”

“Oberyn.” Capping your eyeliner, you spun on the bench to face him, hands in your lap. “Yes. I know that when the three of us are gone, you and Ellaria are going to fuck.” You knew it was more than that, but being blunt was the route you chose. “You need to be clearheaded for tomorrow, and even though having the extra stamina from her blood would probably be helpful if something happens, the focus is more important.”

“Among other things.” He mumbled the words and then held a hand out, waiting for you to take it. “I wish it did not have to be this way.”

“Why?” He pulled you to your feet, his free hand going to your waist. “You love her, Oberyn. You haven’t seen her in a while, and this is probably the longest the two of you have ever gone in each other’s presence without jumping into bed.” Settling your hand on his chest, you said his name again. “I will never be jealous of what the two of you have. She saved your life twice that I know about, and probably countless more times between, too.” He smiled at that - just a twitch of his lips but it was there, and so you continued. “Plus, if that night in the bathroom was any indication, my pelvis and ribs wouldn’t stand a chance with you until you get that out of your system.” Arching a brow, you stared at him for a few seconds, giving your words time to land.

You hadn’t discussed what had happened between you - or what you’d almost said - after waking up, and the following few days had been filled with planning sessions, meaning that Oberyn’s attention was divided. You’d thought about it, of course, and figured that he had, too … but you knew that he had far more important things to worry about.

But those things didn’t keep him from you in the time before you went to bed each day, Oberyn taking breaks to lay with you until you’d fallen asleep, his hand stroking over the parts of your body that he could reach and the two of you trading deep, slow kisses until your eyes closed and he had the opportunity to extricate himself, heading back into the other room with Ellaria, Toban and Tyene.

You only knew this was the case because you’d woken up to an empty bed one night, the fear that he was gone filling you for long moments and only abating when you heard his voice from the other room, Toban’s joining in moments later. He’d always been in bed again when you woke up, though, the comforting weight of him beside you and his face the first thing you saw when you opened your eyes.

Tyrion hadn’t come back, but packages from him had arrived throughout the week - blueprints and files, a secure phone that he’d used to call your group twice - and so you knew that he was still all in. You also knew that while the actual plan was to attack just before the wedding ceremony, there were contingencies in place in case the Lannisters acted out of character and attempted anything at the party.

“You certainly did not complain about the way I was touching you the other night.” Narrowing his eyes playfully, he cocked his head to the side. “Or the way I used my hands.”

“And I never would, but Oberyn, I do enjoy walking and being able to comfortably sit in chairs and breathing without pain, so … yeah. Five or six thousand years is a lot more than two, so -” Leaning in, you kissed him on the mouth, nodding. “Yes. You do what you need to do and I’m going to go and convince Toban and Tyene to let me have a couple cheap beers and the greasiest -”

“Do you want me to stay in the other room tonight?” His hands went to your waist, all traces of humor gone from his tone. “The last thing I want to do is make you uncomfortable.” That threw you, and you were unable to keep your expression from changing before you got yourself under control. Oh, Oberyn.

“I’m … not sure.” Averting your eyes, you pressed your lips together. “I don’t think I’ll be able to answer that until I get back, to be honest.”

“Thank you. Thank you for being -”

“Oberyn, will you please stop being annoying and let her leave?” Tyene popped her head into the room, a clear look of irritation on her face. “This isn’t the inquisition, and -” He stepped backwards, pulling you with him without looking away. But Oberyn used one hand to shove the girl back into the hallway, followed by closing the door before he pressed his back to it, two quick knocks from outside immediately following. “Two minutes, Martell. Or I’m breaking this door down, and -”

“I’ll be out in one, Tyene!” Raising your voice, you cut her off before turning your full attention to Oberyn. “I’ll see you when I get back.” You contemplated telling him to have fun, but decided against it, choosing instead to lean closer, winding your arms around his neck and tucking your head in. “In one piece, too. Maybe even a little tipsy. We’ll see.”

“We will.” He kissed the top of your head, arms snaking around your waist. “Please be careful. Stay close to them. If one of them -”

“I’ll listen to them the same way I would you.” Backing off, you nodded. “I promise. Now kiss me goodbye and let me leave, alright?” He eyed you warily, but you could see that there was pride in his eyes, too - the man staring at you in a way no one ever had before.

His kiss took you by surprise, the press of the man’s mouth gentle, even as the tips of his fingers dug into your sides. He deepened it, Oberyn swallowing your sigh as he traced his tongue along the edges of your teeth and then let it slide past them, meeting yours.

It wasn’t a goodbye kiss, though you could have read it as one, because you were about to walk out the front door of the apartment into an uncertain world for the first time in days. Instead, it seemed to be a promise - that even though you were leaving and he’d be going to bed with another woman that he was in love with while you were gone, he was what would be waiting when you came back. “I’ll see you in a few hours.” He spoke into your ear, his voice barely above a whisper. “Enjoy yourself.”

He took your hand and urged you away from the door, opening it and walking down the hallway to where the other three were waiting. Toban and Tyene were dressed to leave the apartment but Ellaria looked more casual - her long hair down and trailing over her shoulders, the dress she wore loose, too. She looks … beautiful.

“Alright.” Tyene clapped her hands together when she saw the two of you and then pointed at the door. “I need a damn drink, let’s get the hell out of here.” She grabbed your free hand as she passed, tugging you away from Oberyn without breaking stride. “Toban’s buying.”

Two hours later, you were ready to admit that getting out of the apartment and back into the real world was exactly what you needed.

After a short Uber ride, the three of you found yourself in Culver City - not quite close enough to your apartment to make it obvious, but in a place you were much more comfortable with than you would have been at one of the upscale downtown bars.

You’d been on edge until you finished your first drink, constantly looking around the somewhat crowded room, fingers curled protectively around the frosty glass - but when you’d seen how at ease Tyene and Toban were, you followed suit.

Your second drink went down smoothly, too, while you focused on a story that Toban was telling about the years he’d spent in Australia. But before you could order a third, the man stopped you, his hand settling on your arm. “We’re going to walk down the street to another place before we do anything else.”

“Why? Is it -”

“I believe you call this bar-hopping?” He lifted his glass, saluting with it before he finished the final sips of his beer. “And there are still enough people in costume that it’s good cover.” You laughed, rolling your eyes. “Plus, I think Tyene’s got her eye on someone, so we’ll have to leave once she’s done.”

The two of you watched as the girl flirted with a man near the bar, reaching up to tousle his hair while she laughed. Good for her. “What about you?” You focused on him, taking a breath. “See anyone here that you like?”

“I can wait.” He drummed his fingers on the table, looking around the room. “I need less and less to survive as time passes. It’ll be good to… renew myself, but my focus right now is on you.”

“I didn’t want this.” Shifting in your seat, you shook your head. “The last thing I want is for someone else to be responsible for me because I’m just -” A human. A weak little human who wouldn’t stand a chance against the Mountain or a vampire or something as fucking simple as getting hurt.

“I can’t speak for her,” he interrupted, gesturing to Tyene, who’d pulled the man into a kiss. “But I’m always happy to spend time with new friends.” He laid his hand atop yours, squeezing. “Especially when they’re as special as you are.”

“I’m just -”

“You’re not just anything. Not anymore.” Toban lifted his hand and held up one finger, the man nodding - and you only realized that he was signaling Tyene when his attention was fully back on you, his expression widening into a grin. “And now I have a surprise for you.”

“A surprise?” He nodded again, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a phone. “What is -”

“Choose someone you trust. Not family, if you can help it… but someone that you can have a conversation with. Talk for a few minutes, and then invite them out. Invite them to meet us at a random place around here. Are you familiar with the area?”

“Yeah.” You took the phone, turning it over in your hand. “Is there anywhere I should avoid?”

“No. Tyene can hear what you say. She’ll head to wherever you suggest next once she finishes with her friend and wait to see if anyone … else shows up before we do. Enhanced everything is an asset to us. And when we know it’s safe, you and I will head there, too.”

“Is this dangerous? I don’t want to risk it if … This was great. I don’t need to -”

“I heard what you said to Oberyn earlier. You need the interaction. You need to see a friendly human face.” He leaned closer. “You need more than any of us can give you right now.” He was right - and you knew it, so with a tiny nod of agreement, you averted your eyes and dialed a number you knew by heart.

It rang twice before someone picked up, and at the sound of the voice on the other end of the line, you closed your eyes, grinning. “Nora? It’s me. I’m so sorry I haven’t called you back. Want to meet for a drink?”

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#oberyn martell #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell x female reader #pedrostories #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character #oberyn x female reader #the red viper #the prince of dorne #game of thrones fic #oberyn martell fic #oberyn martell vampire au #game of thrones au #modern oberyn au #cowritten with rachael #something tofightfor #aphelion #aphelion masterlist #oberyn martell masterlist

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