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nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos · 1 year

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Your resident Crawling Chaos, back with more OPLA headcanons.

Another huge thanks to everyone who's been sharing and liking and following. You're all just amazing. I'm working on getting through these headcanons alongside an ask request, that latter of which I'm almost finished with and may be up tonight.

Without further ado, it's headcanons with everyone's favorite green-haired swordsman, Zoro!

Whoops, wrong gif.

I'm SORRY I COULDN'T RESIST.

I mean it's totally normal to pick at the people you love.

So, headcanons. Like Mihawk and Shanks, ranging from total fluff to spicy, and very much NSFW.

LA!Zoro X Fem!Reader

A— Through —Z(oro)

A — Afterglow (How are they have sex?)

Considering how much effort he exerts training on a daily basis, he's going to fall asleep pretty quickly.

But you're not going anywhere.

Not with his arms curled around you, holding you against his chest.

Even if he's already asleep, his grip is going to tighten around your waist, keeping you close.

He hasn't been close to many people in his life, and he's pretty starved for physical affection, so your warmth is positively addictive to him.

B — Backrubs? (Do they like them? Like giving them?)

Looks at you like you're speaking another language if you offer him one.

"Wha...why?"

But he's not going to turn it down.

And he's never going to turn it down again after the first time.

"O...oh. Oh—that feels—oh shit yeah..."

He thought that "sore" was just the default state of anyone who spent the vast majority of their time physically active.

He'll try to return the favor if you want one. He's a little clumsy about it since it's not exactly something he's used to doing, but his hands always feel nice and he takes instruction well enough.

It's not long before his hands are wandering, though.

Not that you're complaining.

C — Cuddling (Do they enjoy cuddling a lot or only at certain moments?)

Zoro likes having you close, but mostly in private.

He loves to bury his face in the crook of your neck while you comb your fingers through his hair.

Wrap his arm tight around your waist and just breathe you in.

D — Dance (Are they good at it? Do they enjoy it?)

Says he has two left feet, but he's never realy tried.

He'll let you try to teach him, but he's going to complain the whole time.

"Come on, what's the point in this? Can't we just spar instead?"

And probably blush a little about how close you are.

And definitely never admit out loud that he actually enjoys it.

E — Extravagant Gestures (Things they do to make you feel loved)

Zoro is pretty new to this, so you're going to have to bear with him.

He's spent the entirety of his life focused on his career as a swordsman and never taken any time for romance before.

Doesn't really think much about doing anything extravagant.

But he will literally put his life on the life to keep you safe.

Even if he knows you're pretty strong yourself, he goes completely ferral if he sees you've been hurt.

F — Fighting (How do they hand arguments/apologies?)

He has to always get the last word in.

Turns into a bit of an overgrown toddler, honestly. Slamming doors and being in general grumpy about the whole ordeal.

Refusing to talk about the problem for a while, then feeling guilty after the fact.

Approaching you later when no one else is around, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Look, I probably...could have handled that better. Not really used to this, but—y'know. Sorry."

If he sees you've been crying he's instantly gutted.

G — Going Out (What do they do for dates?)

If you have anything specific in mind, you're going to have to do the planning.

It's not that he doesn't enjoy spending time together—he just doesn't really understand what constitutes a "date"

Gets a little awkward about asking.

"Hey, ah—you know, I'll probably get lost if I leave the ship by myself so...wanna go do something?"

H — Heartache (How would they handle it if you broke up with them?)

He's going to do everything in his power to act like he's unaffected.

But everyone notices it.

Snapping and being more short-tempered than usual.

Spending more and more time training and napping.

Deflecting when anyone asks about it.

Unable to get you out of his head and working himself to the point of overexertion just to try to ignore his thoughts.

I — Intimacy (When are they intimate with you? And how often?)

Mostly in private.

Will probably curl his arm around your waist when you stand close.

Straight-up blushes when you kiss him in front of the rest of the crew at first, even on the cheek, but he gets used to it over time and starts returning the gesture.

In private, it's a miracle if he's not holding you.

He absolutely loves it when you lay across his chest with your cheek at his shoulder.

J — Joker (How do they make you laugh)

Not really one for cutting jokes, but his sarcastic one-liners are an art form.

Especially when he gets into an insult-match with Sanji.

Even if you are typically the one who has to break it up before comes to blows.

K — Kissing (How good? How often?)

He honestly loves kissing you, and he's going to take any chance to pull you aside to do so.

He's starved himself of physical affection for the vast majority of his life, so he savors every second of it.

Pulling you against him by your hips and wrapping an arm around your waist.

Or walking you back into the wall and leaning over you with his hand over your head.

Slow, deep kisses when you wake up in his arms are his weakness.

L — Lay down (How do they sleep with you? Are they a cuddler or do they prefer their space?)

He has to have you against him.

Laid across his chest with an arm around your back.

If you wake up before him, you're not going anywhere until he's ready to move.

If you're too busy to nap, he's going to wait until you're not.

Absolutely refuses to lay down without you at any given time.

M — Making babies (Do they want to settle down and have kids?)

Yeah, no.

At least not for a very long time.

His dream of being the world's greatest swordsman takes precedence right now. Having a kid would make that borderline impossible.

N — Nervous? (How confident are they when it comes to romance?)

As confident as Zoro is about everything else, this whole romance thing has him pretty out of his element.

Had a few one night stands and flings during his time pirate hunting, but never anything serious.

He would never admit that he's nervous, but he's more obvious than he thinks.

Trying to act aloof but stumbling over words.

Getting legitimately surprised when you do the simplest little things for him.

O — Oral Fixation (Giving or recieving? And how good are they?)

Your mouth makes him weak.

Shivering when you wrap your hand around his cock and trail your tongue up the length and wrap your lips around the head.

Gripping your hair with both hands, alternating between laying his head back and watching you.

He's pretty sure he'd go crazy if he watched you the entire time, especially with the way you gaze up to meet his eyes.

Holding your head still when it gets too good to hold back and thrusting back to your throat.

"Oh fuck I love it when you gag on it—"

He's definitely returning the favor.

Picking you up and setting you on the nearest surface—a bed, a hammock, a table, anywhere he can tug off your panties and pull your legs over his shoulders.

Slow and sensual, but not teasing—he just loves hearing your little moans and whimpers, feeling your thighs trembling.

Pushing one or two fingers in and out of you so he can feel you tighten up when you come.

P — Pet Peeves (Things they don't like in a partner)

Nagging. You asked him to do something and he's going to do it, don't get pushy about it or it's going to take him even longer.

Lack of communication—he is new to this whole relationship thing, you can't expect him to know everything you want all the time if you don't tell him.

Flirting with Sanji. Just don't. He can and will murder that shitty waiter.

Q — Quiet Time (How much alone time do they need, or do they want to be with you 24/7?)

He's always been a solitary person, and it surprises him juat how much time he wants to spend with you.

Doesn't want you glued to his side or anything, but he'd rather be with you than not be with you.

Especially in a new place. He knows you can handle yourself, but still gets worried something might happen to you and takes it upon himself to act as your personal body guard.

And let's face it, he'd get lost if he went off on his own anyway.

R — Romance (How romantic are they? Do they have to force it or does it come natural?)

For not having much experience, he's honestly incredibly sweet when you're alone together

Playing with your hair.

Foreheads touching just so he can look into your eyes.

Slow, tender kisses and gentle caresses.

"You're way too good for me."

Gets absolutely flustered if anyone walks in, and you giggling about it doesn't help.

S — Spending Money (How much do they like to spend on you?)

To be fair, he doesn't really have much money. None of you do.

But he's pretty insistent on paying for both of you if you go out together, even if that's all he can do right now.

He wants to buy things for you, and if the crew ever strikes it big, he plans on making up for it.

T — Trust (Are they trusting of you? Jealous?)

Zoro has a lot of trust issues in general, but he's pretty trusting of you.

You haven't given him any reason not to trust you.

He still hasn't told you everything about his past, but he's getting around to it.

U — Underwear (What kind do they wear, and what kind do they like on you?)

He's not very particular about his own underwear.

Definitely comfort and maneuverability over looks, but if you have a preference he's fine with it, as long as it's not thongs or something.

Don't even ask, he's not.

But he loves seeing you in a thong. The skimpier the better.

If he can reach under your skirt and feel your bare ass, he's going to be absolutely ferral for you in an instant.

V — Vulnerable (How vulnerable are they with you? Is it easy for them to open up to you?)

He's more vulnerable with you than he is with anyone else.

Still doesn't exactly wear his heart on his sleeve, but he's trying.

Used to handling everything himself so it's a steep learning curve.

Tries to voice things that bother him, even if it comes out a little forced and awkward, but he makes the effort, and you're proud of him for it.

W — Wine and Dine (Do they prefer meals at home or going out with you? Who does more of the cooking?)

A cook Zoro definitely is not.

He'd rather take you out and not have to deal with Sanji, but money is an object.

He loves watching you cook. He might even offer to help, but you probably shouldn't let him.

He could burn a pot of boiling water.

X — X-Rated (How good are they in bed? What do they like?)

Very passionate, and a little playful.

It drives him crazy when you tease him.

Bend over in front of him in a skirt and he's going to be dragging you off somewhere private in seconds.

Pushing you up against a wall and pushing your skirt up your hips.

Kissing you hard enough to bruise and pulling you against him by your ass so you can feel him get hard.

Shivering, kissing and growling against your neck when you rub him through his pants.

"God, you're such a little fucking tease..."

And he absolutely loves it.

Not wasting any time in pulling your shirt and your bra off so he can feel every inch of you.

Teasing your nipples with his thumb while he grips your ass harder to grind against you.

Wrestling out of his shirt when you get on your knees in front of him.

Tangling his hands in his hair and groaning when you wrap your lips around his cock.

Losing control fast and holding your head still to fuck your mouth until you're gagging on him.

Letting you go when you dig your fingers into his hips and pulling you back up by your hair, picking you up by your ass and kissing down the column of his throat while he catches his breath.

Laying you down on the nearest surface and kissing down your body.

Trying to get himself back under control so he doesn't cum within two minutes.

Pulling your skirt down and flinging it away, before giving you a grin and tugging your panties down with his teeth.

Pulling your thighs up over his shoulders and tugging you to him by your hips, immediately pushing two fingers inside you and sucking your clit.

Rolling his tongue in slow, firm circles, keeping his pace steady while you grip at his hair and arch your back and moan.

Giving a little purr/growl when you come, gripping your hips.

Absolutely craving you now, shifting up to lean over you, rubbing your thighs and thrusting into you before your orgasm is even over.

Going hard and heavy right from the first stroke.

Gripping at your thigh and your hair and groaning into your neck while you cling to him.

Reaching between you to rub your clit, bringing you right back to the edge in minutes.

"Come on, baby. Come for me again. Come on my cock."

Watching your eyes roll back and swearing under his breath when he feels your walls tighten around him.

Losing it immediately when you cry out and arch your back under him.

Pulling out and tugging on you by your arm until you lean down and wrap your lips around him again.

Pulling your head forward and groaning, holding you in place by your hair while you suck the cum out of him.

Collapsing into bed with you and pulling you onto his chest, kissing your neck and your forehead, telling you how good you are while you both catch your breath.

Y — Yearning (How long will they pursue the person they're interested in before losing interest?)

Not very long, honestly.

He'll shoot his shot a couple times, but if you're not interested he's not going to press it.

He respects your boundaries completely, and he doesn't abide the whole hard-to-get game.

If you decide you're interested after that, you're going to have to approach him.

Z — Zen (What do they do to wind down and relax? Do they prefer to do it alone or with you?)

As much as he trains, he needs a lot of downtime.

And he definitely wants you there for it.

Holding onto you like you're his teddy bear, having a beer or two with you, nuzzling into your hair.

He never really considered the possibility that he'd be as close to someone as he is to you, and doesn't want to waste any time being away from you.

He's still pretty reclusive, but you're the one exception to that rule.

#zoro x reader #opla #zoro opla #rorona zoro x reader #one piece live action #opla headcanons #opla fanfiction #zoro one piece #smut #one piece headcanons #one piece fanfiction

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auramgold · 7 months

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On Acht and Romance

going into side order, from the september direct trailer where Acht was first revealed i remember the joke at the time clearly being "and now Marina's ex is here".

the way this line [image description in alt] was written was basically the only evidence for this kind of idea, when the theories were kind of "Marina's order tantrum is sucking people in from her past and the DLC will be about going through her memories", so ellipses in a line like this is basically all theory crafters on no info need to go for shipping.

i'm not one who's super into plot theory crafting, i know full well the tendency to theorize something that's cooler than what you actually get and being disappointed that the story didn't live up to your imagination. the things i was obsessed with in side order promotional material was the obvious bleached coral theme, the symbolism of coral ejecting it that which keeps it safe out of stress being mapped onto Marina, the idea of her pushing those she loves (and those that keep her colorful) away out of a spiral (and it does turn out that was basically exactly what the prologue was going for)

so the whole "Acht and Marina exes" thing was kinda just a joke to me, wasn't even on my radar as something they were actually going to lean into, frankly i was still scared nintendo was going to make them kill pearlina by sending Marina to superhell or smth and we'd end up with a splatoonified destiel meme

so when the DLC comes out and it is legitimately a "they knew each other since childhood" thing, and the running bit is Acht feeling awkward third-wheeling pearlina, and it's explicit in text that one of the reasons they're coming back after the DLC is over is to scope out Pearl as the girl who took down the NILS statue who is now dating Marina... it struck me as really interesting.

at first it was me keeping up the "Marina and Acht are exes" as a joke, but as i kept reading dialogue lines, it slowly became less of a joke, they were to some degree dating because opposite but complimentary autisms, and then drifting apart as Marina got pulled away on the big girl assignment with DJ Octavio, and then the despair of knowing Marina left without even saying goodbye to Acht... it fits well into that reading, it slowly became less of a joke to believe that

but the thing that really makes me think this is intentional subtext is the final Acht diary entry you get from clearing Eight's palette. through the rest of side order talking about Acht's backstory, it seemed like they were retconning the OE lore that Acht had gotten themself sanitized intentionally, losing themself so they could explore their music deeper. but in the final diary, where Acht directly says they drifted into the deepsea metro to fall into their music, because, and i quote

"Hey, Marina. You can guess the chaos your desertion caused. I ended up without much to do except make music. "

they fell into a depression spiral when their girlfriend deserted their society without so much as saying goodbye, falling into their music deep away from interacting with everyone else, to the point that, as the old lore implies, they chose to give up their identity to escape the depression, but sanitization so thoroughly did it that they forget even making the choice.

so when they get brought out of that haze back into being themself again, with the only the barest strung-together horrified memories of what happened in the half a decade interim gap in their life, only to find themself replaced by some inkling they don't know at all, of course they're gonna be awkward seeing the two flirting.

they put on a stoic face because that's clearly their coping mechanism within this damaged body they barely recognize, hiding their eyes behind their tinted glasses so they can't be seen beneath. but the only time they let themself be vulnerable, the only time their eyes can be seen, is when they charge out in the climax when the world is at stake, diving in to try to save Marina, leaving the elevator and its protection behind to help the only person they remember ever caring about.

it's why i don't really like the aroace reading that much, because i think this reading is even more tragic and fits into the themes. the world has changed, it can't go back to how it once was, you can't put the octolings back in the canyon bottle. Marina abandoned Acht to the point they got their identity destroyed willingly to escape the pain, and when Acht came back they were replaced by the inkling whose voice they remember even through the haze of sanitized memories.

the lingering effects of sanitization have changed how they relate to everything (i think there's a fair argument to be made for the idea that sanitization took their gender can't have shit in the deepsea metro), but Acht clearly still cares for Marina and still, the slightest bit, resents having to be reminded repeatedly every time pearlina flirts in front of them how they were replaced.

#acht splatoon #side order spoilers #dedf1sh #side order #splatoon 3 side order #seriously i'm so normal about this you have no idea #splatoon #splatoon 3

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theetherealbloom · 11 days

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AS GOOD A REASON - CH. 4 | OBERYN MARTELL

Chapter Four: I Will Be Your Executioner

Summary: You, who has made it her life's work to get retribution on those who mistreated and harassed you when you were a child. The scars on your body are a physical reminder of the suffering you endured at the hands of abusers, and they also provide the fuel for your years-long quest for retribution.

Paring: Oberyn Martell x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, MINORS GO AWAY, GoT is full of serious and harmful topics, mentions of SA, Rape (not the reader), Murder, Violence, Gore, War, Poison, Scars, Burns, Scratching, Su!c!de, AU, Age–Gap Romance, Angst, FLUFF, Eventual SMUT, Swearing, PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, Crying, Suggestive content, Flirting, Blood, War, Religion References, Nudity, Domestic Abuse, Incest, Prostitution, Weapons, Fire, Horror, Character Deaths, Rewrite Alternate Universe, Sex, Alcohol, Revenge, Panic Attacks, Anxiety Attack,

Word Count: 9k

A/N: OMFGGGGGG I’m actually writing non-stop. Wtf. Guys this part is heavily inspired by many quotes from the Glory. It’s so goooooddd! Go watch it. ALSO LMAO sorry for the chonky chapter. Hope you enjoy!

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: No Choir by Florence + The Machine

Previous Chapter → Next Chapter | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

THE WEDDING RECEPTION

KING'S LANDING GARDEN, RED KEEP — AFTERNOON

The once-vibrant garden has turned into a scene from a nightmare. Joffrey’s lifeless body lies in his mother’s lap, the blood trickling from his nose and mingling with the vomit caking his lips. Cersei’s scream cuts through the chaos like a blade, her finger trembling as it points directly at Tyrion.

"You did this! You did this!" she shrieks, her voice cracking with grief and rage.

Tyrion barely has time to react before three guards seize him from behind, their grip firm, dragging him back. The entire court is thrown into disarray, nobles scrambling, unsure where to look or what to say. The shock hangs in the air, heavy and suffocating.

Your eyes flick to Sansa as she watches, wide-eyed and frozen in place. Ser Dontos Hollard, the fool, sidles up to her, his face pale with urgency.

“We have to leave,” he whispers frantically, his hand tugging at her sleeve.

Sansa looks to you, her expression a mix of confusion and terror, searching for an answer. You meet her gaze and give the smallest, subtlest nod, speaking in the quietest voice that only she can hear.

"Run."

You keep your posture relaxed, every movement calculated, as though the chaos around you is nothing but a passing storm. Let it swirl, let them scream, none of it touches you.

Cersei’s piercing voice shatters the air again. “Take him! Take him!”

The guards drag Tyrion away through the crowd, his face a mask of resignation. You shift, sliding further to the edge of the gathering, your eyes tracking Sansa as she and Ser Dontos disappear, swallowed by the throng of horrified nobles. As Cersei’s head whips around, searching for a new target for her grief, her shrill voice rises again.

"Where is his wife? Where's Sansa?!"

Tywin's voice booms over the garden, commanding attention with the force of authority, “Find her. Bar the gates of the city. Seize every ship in the harbor.”

The tension mounts as Cersei, distraught and frenzied, clings to Tywin. “Where is she?!”

“No one leaves the capital!" Tywin's voice echoes like a decree from the gods themselves. "No one!”

The wheels are turning, but you remain steady, unmoved, watching everything unfold like a distant observer.

KING'S LANDING, RED KEEP — DUSK

The bells toll ominously across the city, signaling not just the king's death but the beginning of a lockdown. What had begun as a celebration of young love and power had spiraled into a suffocating horror—a wedding turned funeral. The streets were locked down, the gates barred, and whispers spread like wildfire among the servants. Every corner of the Red Keep hummed with dread.

You sat in the dim light of your chambers, fingers tracing over the pages of your journal. On the list of names you had scrawled, Joffrey’s stood out, now crossed out in thick ink. The weight of his demise did not lift your heart, but there was a cold satisfaction in seeing that line through his name.

A knock on your door broke the silence. You didn’t even look up, your voice calm, measured. “Enter.”

Serena stepped in, her movements quiet and careful as she shut the door behind her, turning the lock with a soft click before coming to sit beside you. Her eyes fell to your journal, to the page you’d been reading, and her gaze lingered on the crossed-out name.

Her voice was soft when she asked, “Did you…”

You didn’t hesitate. “It wasn’t me who slipped the poison.” Your tone was blunt, matter-of-fact. Serena was smart—she could piece together the rest on her own. She nodded slowly, absorbing the truth behind your words.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said softly. “I’d still like to thank you. For doing this.”

Her gratitude was real, but it didn’t touch you. Nothing did anymore. You turned to her, your expression as unreadable as stone.

"I didn’t do it for thanks," you said, your voice as cold as the air before a storm. “I did it because people like him—people like them—will only understand one thing from now on.” You paused, holding Serena’s gaze, unblinking. “They will suffer, just as we have.”

Serena nodded, her lips tightening into a thin line. She knew. She understood.

And so, your revenge continued. Joffrey’s name may have been crossed out, but there were others. And as you sat there, cold and detached, you knew this was only the beginning of a longer reckoning. The suffering had only just begun.

THE NEXT DAY

STREETS OF SILK, CHATAYA’S BROTHEL — DAY

The city pulsed with a nervous energy, the fallout of Joffrey’s death rippling through every alleyway, every corner of King’s Landing. It was rare for you to have a day free from the palace, but amidst the chaos, no one had cared when a few servants slipped away. The Red Keep had become a den of paranoia, each person trying to avoid the eye of suspicion. A perfect time to disappear—even if just for a while.

As you walked through the streets, your steps silent, deliberate, you overheard a conversation between two guards. Their voices were low, yet their words unmistakable. Tywin plans to confront Oberyn. The Hand of the King knew of Oberyn's frequent visits to Chataya’s brothel—it was no secret that the Dornish prince indulged himself openly. Tywin’s suspicions were spreading like wildfire, and you needed to be there to hear what he might uncover.

Pulling your cloak tight around you, you kept to the shadows, slipping between the narrow alleys that twisted like veins through the streets of silk. The map of the city was etched into your mind as clearly as the secrets you kept—memorized over years of service, of watching and waiting.

You reached the brothel just as the sun began to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the cobblestones. Slipping through the back door, you moved with the practiced silence of someone who knew how to remain unseen. A shadow among shadows. The moans and laughter of the brothel’s patrons created a cover of noise, perfect for hiding in plain sight.

The scent of incense and sweat filled the air, thick and cloying, but you barely noticed. Your eyes were fixed ahead, scanning for any sign of Tywin or his men. You crept further into the brothel, slipping behind a large stone pillar that stood near one of the darker corners of the room. Hidden in the gloom, you were just another part of the architecture, unseen, unnoticed.

The dagger strapped to your thigh pressed reassuringly against your skin, a small comfort in the uncertainty of the moment. You had long since learned that in King’s Landing, secrets and steel were your best companions. One cut as deep as the other, and both had their uses. If anyone saw you, anyone grew suspicious—you would be ready.

You crouched lower behind the pillar, listening as Oberyn’s voice carried faintly from one of the rooms. His tone was as smooth and dangerous as ever, a man who never feared consequences, not even from Tywin Lannister. You stayed still, your heart steady but your mind sharp, waiting for the moment when Tywin would confront him.

You could feel it—the unraveling was only just beginning. The tension in the city would soon give way to something far darker, and you were determined to be ahead of it, to see everything before it was hidden away in shadows again.

As footsteps echoed down the hall, heavier, more deliberate, you pressed further into the shadows. Tywin. You could not afford to be seen, but you could not afford to miss this either. Information was your weapon. And today, you would sharpen it.

Just in time, you watched as three naked whores and Ellaria Sand stepped out of one of the rooms. Her dark, wavy hair cascaded down her bare shoulders as she laughed softly, her gaze briefly scanning the room before she and the others disappeared down the hall. The guards trailed after them, though one remained standing by the entrance. Close, but not too close.

The door to Oberyn’s room was slightly ajar.

You slipped inside with practiced precision, the heavy scent of incense clinging to the air. The room was bathed in the warm, golden light of the midday sun, filtering through the heavy curtains. Oberyn Martell was seated on the bed, shirtless and glistening with sweat, his bronzed skin catching the light as he stretched with the grace of a panther. The gods must have shown you some favor—he was still clothed from the waist down.

His gaze shifted lazily toward you, a faint smirk tugging at his lips as if your presence amused him. He knew you were there long before you entered.

“Would you like to sit?” he asked, his voice low, teasing. He gestured casually toward a chair in the corner, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

Tywin Lannister stood at the other end of the room, his expression as hard as stone, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of irritation. “No, thank you,” Tywin replied curtly, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade.

Oberyn’s movements were slow, deliberate, as he rose from the bed, his lean body practically dripping with confidence. He stepped toward a small cart by the window, where a tray of wine and goblets waited. “Some wine?” he offered again, pouring himself a generous amount, the dark liquid swirling in the cup.

Tywin, still standing near the door, remained unmoved. “No, thank you,” he repeated.

Oberyn, with a patterned towel draped over his shoulder, took a slow sip of the wine, his eyes never leaving Tywin’s. “I'm sorry about your grandson,” he said smoothly, though the sincerity in his tone was questionable.

Tywin’s lips twitched, barely containing his disdain. “Are you?” he asked, the question laced with accusation.

Oberyn shrugged, moving across the room like a predator sizing up his prey. “I don't believe a child is responsible for the sins of his father. Or his grandfather. An awful way to die.” His voice was casual, but his eyes—those dark, piercing eyes—were watching Tywin’s every move.

The tension in the room was recognizable, thick enough to choke on. You remained hidden in the shadows, every word falling like stones in a still pond, sending ripples of suspicion through the air.

“Which way is that?” Tywin asked, his voice sharp.

Oberyn tilted his head, a sly smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Are you interrogating me, Lord Tywin?” he purred, settling onto a plush bed of pillows, lounging with the practiced grace of a man who feared nothing.

“Some believe the king choked,” Tywin mused, watching Oberyn closely.

“Some believe the sky is blue because we live inside the eye of a blue-eyed giant,” Oberyn replied, his tone mocking. He took another sip of wine before adding, “The king was poisoned.”

Tywin’s eyes narrowed, the faintest hint of suspicion creeping into his expression. “I hear you studied poisons at the Citadel.”

Oberyn’s smile widened, like a cat who had caught the scent of a mouse. “I did. This is why I know.”

Tywin’s voice dropped, edged with danger. “Your hatred for my family is rather well known. You arrive at the capital, an expert in poisoning, and days later my grandson dies of poisoning.”

Oberyn didn’t miss a beat. “Rather suspicious,” he agreed with a chuckle. “Why haven’t you thrown me in a dungeon?”

Tywin's gaze hardened. “You spoke with Tyrion in this very brothel on the day that you arrived. What did you discuss?”

“You think we conspired together?” Oberyn raised an eyebrow, amused.

“What did you discuss?”

Oberyn’s playful demeanor faltered, as he moved to stand, approaching Tywin, his voice dropping into something darker, colder. “The death of my sister.”

Tywin did not flinch, though his eyes gave away nothing. “For which you blame me.”

Oberyn leaned forward slightly, his voice like steel wrapped in silk. “She was raped and murdered by the Mountain. The Mountain follows your orders. Of course I blame you.”

The silence that followed was thick with unspoken threats. You remained perfectly still, your heart a steady drumbeat in your chest as you watched the two men circle each other, both poised for an attack that would never come.

Tywin, calm as ever, gave the faintest shrug. “Here I stand unarmed, unguarded. Should I be concerned?”

Oberyn smiled, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “You are unarmed and unguarded because you know me better than that. I am a man of reason. If I cut your throat today, I will be drawn and quartered tomorrow.”

“Men at war commit all kinds of crimes without their superiors' knowledge,” Tywin said, almost conversationally.

“So you deny involvement in Elia's murder?”

Tywin’s voice remained steady. “Categorically.”

Oberyn’s gaze sharpened, his smile fading into something colder. “I would like to speak with the Mountain.”

“I’m sure he would enjoy speaking with you,” Tywin said evenly.

Oberyn’s lips curled into a grim smile. “He might not enjoy it as much as he thinks he would.”

Tywin’s eyes flickered with a dangerous glint. “I could arrange for this meeting.”

Oberyn’s brow arched, intrigued. “But you want something in return.”

Tywin’s voice was calm, measured. “There will be a trial for my son. As custom dictates, three judges will render a verdict. I will preside. Mace Tyrell will serve as the second judge. I would like you to be the third.”

Oberyn’s amusement returned, but his tone remained cautious. “Why?”

“Not long ago, the Tyrells sided with Renly Baratheon. Declared themselves enemies of the throne. Now they are our strongest allies.”

Oberyn shrugged, taking another sip of his wine. “Well, you made the Tyrell girl a queen. Asking me to judge at your son's trial isn't quite as tempting.”

Tywin stepped forward, his voice dropping low. “I will also invite you to sit on the small council to serve as one of the new king's principal advisors.”

Oberyn studied Tywin, his eyes narrowing slightly. “I never realized you had such respect for Dorne, Lord Tywin.”

“We are not the Seven Kingdoms until Dorne returns to the fold,” Tywin replied, his voice cold, calculated. “The king is dead. The Greyjoys are in open rebellion. A wildling army marches on the Wall. And in the East, a Targaryen girl has three dragons. Before long, she will turn her eyes to Westeros. Only the Dornish managed to resist Aegon Targaryen and his dragons.”

Oberyn’s smile returned, slow and sharp. “You're saying you need us? That must be hard for you to admit.”

Tywin’s expression didn’t change. “We need each other. You help me serve justice to the king's assassins, and I will help you serve justice to Elia's.”

The room seemed to hold its breath as Oberyn fell silent, his gaze turning inward, distant, as if he were calculating a hundred possibilities all at once. The tension lingered, thick and unspoken, between him and the absent Tywin. The delicate balance of power that had just played out was clear—two predators circling one another, masking threats with diplomacy.

You pressed yourself deeper into the shadows, watching Oberyn with a sharp, practiced gaze. His expression remained contemplative, still lost in the aftermath of his exchange with Tywin. Outside the room, the echo of Tywin’s footsteps faded into the distance, and the door clicked shut with finality, leaving behind an uneasy stillness that hung thick in the air.

But you had lingered too long. In a silent breath, you pulled back into the shadows, slipping toward the door like a shadow yourself. You moved swiftly, soundless, as you had been trained—disappearing without a trace. The world outside was teeming with noise and life, but none of it noticed your departure. You melted into the alleyways, your cloak drawn close, your steps swift and measured as you darted through the maze of streets that threaded King’s Landing.

The market was alive with its usual chaos, the scent of spices mingling with the salt of the sea, merchants shouting over one another, selling everything from silks to stale bread. You wove through the crowds, your face hidden beneath the hood of your cloak, eyes scanning your surroundings. You had always known how to vanish in plain sight.

But then, the sound hit you.

A sharp sizzle, the searing of meat against hot metal. Your steps faltered as the scent of charred pork filled the air, thick and overwhelming, clinging to your skin like smoke. For a moment, the world around you seemed to blur—the market, the people, the shouts—it all dimmed. Your breath caught in your throat, your chest tightening as the memories surged, unbidden, unstoppable.

Flames licking at your skin, the scent of burning flesh, the sound of your own screams echoing in the back of your mind. The fire that had marked you, that had seared itself into your memory, now clawed its way to the surface.

Your hands trembled as you stumbled into a corner of the street, your back pressed hard against the cool stone of a wall. The sounds of the market seemed distant now, drowned out by the roar of the fire in your mind. The panic clawed at your chest, squeezing tighter and tighter until it felt like you couldn’t breathe.

You gasped, desperate for air, the weight of your cloak suddenly too heavy, the noise of the market too loud. The edges of your vision blurred, and the ground beneath you felt like it was spinning. The world seemed to close in on you, suffocating, the past and present melding into one.

Burning.

You clenched your fists, nails digging into your palms in an attempt to ground yourself, to remind yourself that you were no longer there. But the searing sound, the scent—it was too much. The memories flooded you, pulling you under. You pressed your back harder into the wall, trying to fight your way out of the suffocating panic, trying to escape the fire that only existed in your mind.

But it felt so real.

Your breaths came in short, shallow gasps, and your vision swam. You had to get out. Away from the market, away from the noise, away from the memory that gripped you like a vice. You pushed yourself off the wall, your legs shaky but determined, and forced yourself back into the crowd, pulling your cloak tighter around you.

With every step, you fought to steady your breathing, to clear the haze from your mind. The streets blurred around you as you moved, each footfall feeling heavier than the last, but you pressed on. Away from the market. Away from the sound.

Away from the fire.

KING'S LANDING, RED KEEP — AFTERNOON

By the time you returned to the castle, fatigue weighed heavily on your limbs. The maze of tunnels under the Red Keep stretched out before you like a winding serpent, familiar yet suffocating. Each step felt heavier than the last, your breath shallow, as the cool stone walls seemed to press closer.

As you rounded a corner, your thoughts interrupted by hurried footsteps, you almost collided with someone—Podrick Payne. His wide-eyed expression immediately softened when he realized it was you.

“Oh, my apologies,” Podrick stammered, stepping back in his usual bashful manner.

You shook your head, waving off the apology. "No, it was my fault. I wasn’t looking where I was going."

He hesitated, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Oh well…"

There was something about his awkwardness, a sincerity in the way he held himself. Podrick was kind, genuine—a rarity in King's Landing. You had a peculiar way of prying information from him without much effort. It wasn’t something you set out to do, but it was almost as though the right questions spilled from your lips, and he couldn’t help but answer.

You tilted your head slightly, eyes narrowing as you noticed the tension in his shoulders. "Are you heading somewhere urgent?"

Podrick blinked in surprise, glancing at the wineskin he carried. “Yes, I’m on my way to see Lord Tyrion in the cells.”

Your gaze dropped to the wineskin, lips curving into a faint smirk. "You’re bringing him wine?"

He nodded, looking somewhat guilty, as though he’d been caught red-handed.

"The guards will take it from you, you know that, right?"

Podrick’s expression flickered with brief defeat, but he nodded again. The innocence in his eyes spoke volumes, but you weren’t fooled. Deep down, you knew he was smuggling more than just wine. You sighed, rubbing your temples as the exhaustion from the day wore at your patience.

"They've chosen the judges for his trial," you added, your voice soft but deliberate.

Podrick glanced around as if someone might overhear, then leaned in slightly. “I heard. Lord Tywin, Mace Tyrell, and Prince Oberyn of Dorne."

"Word travels fast," you murmured, more to yourself than to him. Your eyes drifted over his face, reading the tension etched into his features. His frown deepened, and you couldn’t help but ask, “What’s wrong? You’re frowning.”

Podrick’s sigh was almost inaudible, but in the quiet of the dimly lit tunnel, it seemed to echo. He lowered his voice as if confessing a secret. "There’s something else. A man—someone I didn’t know—came to me. He asked if I’d testify against Lord Tyrion. Said I’d be named Ser Podrick Payne if I told the judges Tyrion bought a poison called the Strangler.”

Your stomach twisted at the mention of the poison, but your expression remained impassive. You frowned, though, as the weight of his words sank in. Podrick, in his innocence, stood at the crossroads of something much darker than he fully understood.

"You…" You took a slow, deep breath, steadying your tone. "Lord Tyrion has been kind to you."

He met your gaze, his eyes filled with uncertainty. "He has."

There was a heavy silence between you, the kind that lingered just long enough to feel uncomfortable. The weight of your secrets hung in the air, unspoken, but Podrick wasn’t foolish. He knew you were holding back, but he never pressed.

"Do you know what happened?" he asked softly, as though afraid of the answer. His voice was tentative, laced with the hope that you might offer him clarity. "Who did it?"

You blinked, your gaze distant, the apathy you had so carefully cultivated slipping back into place. His question lingered, but you gave him no answer—just a soft pat on his shoulder, a rare gesture of kindness in a world that had none to spare.

"You better be careful, Podrick," you said, your voice low, carrying a quiet weight. "You’re one of the rare ones out there who are truly good. Take care of yourself."

His lips parted as if to say something more, but you had already turned away, disappearing into the shadows of the castle, leaving him standing there beneath the flickering torchlight.

KING’S LANDING, QUAY OF THE PORT BY THE SEA OF THE RED KEEP — AFTERNOON

The salty breeze whipped across the sea, crashing waves against jagged rocks below as you crouched beneath the cliffsides. Hidden from sight, you watched with keen eyes as Jaime Lannister and Bronn sparred near the water's edge, the sound of clashing steel ringing in the air.

Jaime’s face was flushed, his breath labored, but his movements were sharper than before. He spun his sword with renewed vigor, pressing the attack against Bronn. But the sellsword was as sharp as ever, his parries quick, his footwork steady. They deadlocked, Jaime’s golden hand clashing with Bronn’s grip. With a wicked grin, Bronn swatted Jaime across the face, sending him sprawling onto the ground with an unceremonious thud.

Jaime let out a grunt, pushing himself up from the dirt. “What the hell was that?” he spat, wiping the dust from his tunic.

Bronn tossed Jaime’s golden hand back to him with a smirk. “That was me knocking your ass to the dirt with your own hand."

Jaime caught it, shaking his head. “You’re a rare talent. When you’re fighting cripples, anyway.”

“You learned to fight like a good little boy," Bronn quipped, his grin widening. "I’ll bet that thrust through the Mad King’s back was pretty as a picture. You want to fight pretty, or you want to win?”

Jaime’s jaw clenched. “You talk to my brother this way?”

“All the time. He got used to it.”

They sat together on a low stone wall, the tension easing between them. Jaime took a swig from a wineskin before handing it to Bronn.

“Do you think he did it?” Jaime asked, his voice low, hesitant.

Bronn shook his head. “No. Oh, he hated the little twat, sure. But who didn’t? Poison’s not his style. Or murder, for that matter. You want to know for sure, why don’t you ask him?”

Jaime remained silent, his gaze distant.

“You haven’t been to see him yet, have you?” Bronn probed, his tone carrying an edge of judgment.

Jaime stood abruptly, tossing the wineskin back to Bronn. “We’re done for today.”

As Jaime walked away, Bronn called out, “Your brother ever tell you how I came into his service?”

Jaime paused, his back still turned. “You stood for him in his trial by combat at the Eyrie.”

“Aye,” Bronn replied, his voice steady. “But only when Lady Arryn demanded the trial take place that day. You were his first choice. He named you for his champion because he knew you’d ride day and night to fight for him. You gonna fight for him now?”

Jaime’s silence lingered, the weight of Bronn’s words hanging in the air as he disappeared into the distance.

Once Jaime was gone, Bronn stood alone, shaking his head. That’s when you emerged from your hiding spot, the faint sound of your boots scraping against the stone catching his attention. He turned, spotting you walking towards him, your loose long-sleeve tunic billowing slightly in the wind, trousers and boots practical for the sparring you had in mind. The sword sheathed at your side glinted in the afternoon light, a far cry from the ladylike appearance most would expect.

You let out a low whistle, drawing a chuckle from Bronn as you approached. “You really handed it to him, huh?” you remarked, eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Who knew today would be the day you make a joke?” Bronn quipped, his smirk never far from his lips.

You huffed, crossing your arms. “Might as well get a laugh in once in a while.”

Bronn gave you a quick once-over, his eyes sharp as always. “You here to practice?”

In response, you tossed a small pouch of gold coins at him, which he caught with a practiced ease. “It’s been a while. Was wondering if you were simply busy or if you’d run off.”

You shrugged, the weight of the past few days pressing on your shoulders. “Well, it hasn’t been quiet at the Red Keep.”

“Aye,” Bronn said with a knowing look, his expression softening for just a moment. Then, with his usual swagger, he added, “Well, let’s see if that sword of yours still works.”

The two of you squared off, the tension of the moment melting into the familiar rhythm of training. Bronn was a formidable opponent—quick, sharp, and never one to play by the rules. He tested you immediately, launching a fast strike aimed at your side. You parried it easily, the weight of your sword light in your hands.

"You've gotten faster," Bronn noted, his tone almost begrudging as he stepped back to assess you, his sharp eyes taking in every movement, every subtle shift of your stance.

You shrugged, gripping your sword a little tighter, the weight of his words sinking in deeper than he realized. Faster—it wasn’t just speed you needed. Strength. Precision. Ruthlessness. All of it would be necessary if you were going to do what needed to be done. Your thoughts flickered briefly to him, to the Mountain, and the moment you had been turning over in your mind, rehearsing endlessly in the quiet of your own head.

One well-placed strike—that’s all it would take. You’d studied his movements, watched how he fought. Brutal. Unforgiving. He crushed his opponents like insects beneath his feet, but there was always a weakness. There had to be. You just had to find it, and when you did, the Mountain would fall.

But you didn’t say that out loud.

Instead, you offered Bronn a casual shrug, masking the storm of thoughts beneath your calm expression. “Learned a few tricks while I was busy,” you replied with a half-smile, keeping your voice light.

Bronn smirked, though his eyes still lingered on you as if trying to peel back the layers of your thoughts. "Busy, huh? Hope those tricks keep you alive long enough to show me more."

He didn’t press, and you were grateful for it. There was no need to tell him, not yet. The time would come soon enough, and when it did, you'd be ready.

A FEW DAYS LATER

KING'S LANDING, THE THRONE ROOM — DAY

You stand off to the side, shrouded in the shadows of the grand pillars, your eyes flickering over the scene before you like a predator studying its prey. The High Septon stands at the heart of it all, his voice booming as he leads the coronation of Tommen Baratheon. The crowd has gathered, a sea of nobles dressed in their finest silks, feigning respect and devotion. Your gaze drifts, settling momentarily on Ser Jaime Lannister, who patrols near the back, his golden hand gleaming in the soft light.

"May the Warrior grant him courage and protect him in these perilous times," the High Septon intoned, his voice heavy with ceremony. "May the Smith grant him strength that he might bear this heavy burden. And may the Crone, she that knows the fate of all men, show him the path he must walk and guide him through the dark places that lie ahead."

Tommen’s face, still soft with boyish innocence, betrays the weight of the moment. You can see it in his eyes—the bewilderment, the fear hidden behind a facade of calm. He’s a puppet, and the strings are woven through the hands of those more powerful. But he’s not the one you’re watching.

The High Septon finishes, his hands raised toward the heavens. "In the light of the Seven, I now proclaim Tommen of the House Baratheon, First of His Name. King of the Andals and the First Men and Lord of the Seven Kingdoms. Long may he reign!"

"Long may he reign!" the crowd echoes in unison, their voices a rehearsed chorus.

Your eyes narrow as Tommen bows, exchanging a fleeting glance with Margaery Tyrell. The hint of a smile plays on her lips, barely noticeable unless you knew what to look for. It’s the look of a woman who knows exactly what she wants—and how to get it. Cersei sees it too, her expression tightening, though she maintains her grace.

You smirk to yourself. The plot never stops, not for a moment.

The grand hall is quieter now, though the air still buzzes with soft chatter. Tommen sits awkwardly on the Iron Throne, his small frame swallowed by its looming presence. Tywin Lannister stands beside him, commanding the room with nothing but his cold, stern silence. The line of courtiers shuffles forward, each taking their turn to bow and offer hollow pleasantries.

"Your Grace," Grand Maester Pycelle rasps, his aged voice grating against your ears.

"Your Grace," Varys follows, his tone smooth, unreadable.

Tommen exchanges nods and small smiles, barely keeping up the appearance of a ruler. Margaery lingers nearby, her gaze soft but calculating. It’s Cersei’s eyes that catch yours, though, burning with possessiveness and suspicion as they land on Margaery.

Your fingers twitch at your side, the weight of your dagger pressing against your thigh through the fabric of your cloak. There’s no need for it now, but the comfort of steel is a constant reminder of why you’re here—watching, waiting, collecting secrets like coins.

The crowd parts as Cersei approaches Margaery, offering smiles to the onlookers as she moves through the room with the grace of a lioness on the hunt. You observe it all, taking in the flickers of power, the undercurrents that ripple beneath the surface of every interaction.

You sigh, stepping away from the scene and slipping back into the shadows. There’s nothing more to see here. The coronation is just another piece in the larger puzzle, and the trial—the real battle—is yet to come. Your secrets can wait, for now.

KING'S LANDING, THE GARDEN — DAY

The day was warm, the sun casting a golden glow over the lush greenery of the royal gardens. The scent of blooming flowers mingled with the salty air from the sea, but none of that registered as you went about your tasks. Servant duties, tedious and endless, consumed most of your time. Today, it was carrying supplies from the kitchen to the gardens—bundles of herbs, fresh fruits, a few linens. You balanced them carefully in your arms, eyes scanning for a spot to drop them off before you moved to the next errand.

As you passed through the garden's winding paths, the soft murmur of voices caught your attention. You stilled, instinctively pressing yourself into the shade of a tall shrub, out of sight. The voices were familiar—Cersei Lannister and Oberyn Martell. The temptation to eavesdrop, to gather just a bit more information for yourself, was too great to resist.

You shifted slightly, your heart thudding in your chest, trying not to rustle the bushes as you angled your body closer. From where you stood, you had a clear view of Oberyn sitting on a stone bench, writing on a scroll. He paused as Cersei approached, her guards flanking her.

"Your Grace," Oberyn greeted her, his voice low and polite as he stood.

Cersei’s cold smile barely reached her eyes. "Prince Oberyn. Writing letters?"

"A poem, actually," Oberyn replied, his tone light, yet unreadable.

Cersei’s eyebrow raised slightly, more curious than amused. "May I show you the gardens?"

Oberyn glanced down at the scroll he had been working on before standing fully to his feet. "I couldn’t very well refuse a royal escort."

"No, you couldn’t," Cersei said, a slight edge in her voice. You could almost see the power shift between them as they started walking side by side through the winding paths of the garden, their steps measured, calculated.

You trailed discreetly behind them, clutching your bundle tightly, ears straining to catch every word.

"I didn’t realize you were a poet," Cersei remarked, her voice laced with feigned curiosity.

Oberyn chuckled. "Not a very good one."

"For your paramour?"

"For one of my daughters," Oberyn corrected, his voice softening at the mention of his children.

Cersei’s eyes flicked toward him. "You have several, don’t you?"

"Eight," he said, a touch of pride in his voice.

"Eight? Eight daughters?" Cersei repeated, incredulous.

Oberyn nodded. "The fifth is difficult. I named her after my sister, Elia."

At the mention of Elia’s name, your heart clenched. You had always known the depth of his loss, but hearing it aloud, even in passing, reminded you of the storm that brewed constantly beneath Oberyn’s surface.

"Beautiful name," Cersei mused.

"Yes," Oberyn agreed, though his tone darkened. "But I can’t say it without turning sad. And after I turn sad, I grow angry."

"Perhaps that’s why she’s difficult," Cersei remarked, her tone dripping with cynical wisdom. "The gods love their stupid jokes, don’t they?"

Oberyn's gaze narrowed slightly, intrigued. "Which joke is that?"

Cersei’s smile was sharp, almost mocking. "You’re a prince of Dorne. A legendary fighter. A brilliant man feared throughout Westeros. But you could not save your sister. I’m a Lannister. Queen for nineteen years. Daughter of the most powerful man alive. But I could not save my son. What good is power if you cannot protect the ones you love?"

Her words struck like venom, her bitterness palpable. You watched Oberyn’s face shift, his jaw tightening as the memories of his sister undoubtedly flashed behind his eyes.

"We can avenge them," he said after a pause, his voice resolute, cutting through the air like a blade.

Cersei met his gaze, her lips curling slightly. "Yes, we can avenge them."

Oberyn tilted his head, watching her intently. "You really believe Tyrion murdered your son?"

Without hesitation, Cersei replied, "I know he did."

Oberyn’s expression remained calm, though you could sense his skepticism. "We will have a trial, and we will learn the truth."

"We’ll have a trial, anyway," Cersei muttered, her voice tight with impatience. "I haven’t seen my daughter in over a year."

Oberyn’s face softened slightly. "The last time I saw her, she was swimming with two of my girls in the Water Gardens. Laughing in the sun."

Cersei’s eyes briefly glistened with unshed tears. "I want to believe that. I want to believe she’s happy."

Oberyn’s tone was gentle now, sincere. "You have my word. We don’t hurt little girls in Dorne."

Cersei’s voice was a mere whisper, filled with more sadness than she would ever admit aloud. "Everywhere in the world, they hurt little girls. Would you bring her a gift for me? I wasn’t there for her name day. I don’t know when I’ll see her again."

Oberyn’s gaze softened as he nodded. "Anything at all."

Cersei pointed toward the bay, her eyes lingering on a ship. "The best shipwrights in King’s Landing have been working on it for months. Myrcella loves the open water."

Oberyn’s lips curled into a small, understanding smile. "I will have it sailed down to Sunspear for her."

Cersei turned to face him fully, her expression momentarily vulnerable. "Please tell her... her mother misses her very much."

She left then, her guards following behind as her regal figure disappeared from the garden. Oberyn stood still, watching her go with an unreadable expression.

In the silence that followed, Oberyn’s voice cut through the air, calm and composed. "You can show yourself now."

Your breath hitched, but you stepped out from behind the pillar, clutching the supplies you had been carrying, your heartbeat still racing from all you had overheard.

Oberyn's dark eyes, gleaming with that unspoken intensity, never left yours. The weight of his gaze made the space between you feel smaller, heavier, as though every unspoken word lingered in the air. He took a slow step toward you, his expression caught somewhere between amusement and curiosity.

"I still don’t know your name," he said, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips, though his tone remained casual, as if this was just another conversation, nothing more than passing the time.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you swallowed, straightening slightly. "It’s..." You hesitated for a second, then finally offered, your name.

Oberyn hummed in acknowledgment, his smirk widening just a little, as though your name now held a secret weight between the two of you. He moved closer, studying your face carefully. He repeated your name, tasting the name on his tongue like it was something to be savored.

A silence hung between you for a moment, but Oberyn had a way of piercing through it with his words. His eyes narrowed slightly, his head tilting just enough to catch your gaze again. "Tell me," he began, his voice soft but laced with a quiet danger, "did you poison the king?"

Your chest tightened at the question, though you knew it was coming. You didn't flinch, your heart steady despite the accusation hanging in the air. Meeting his gaze, you shook your head firmly, your voice calm but resolute. "No. I didn’t."

Oberyn’s intense gaze lingered on you, as if he was peeling away the layers of who you were, searching for the truth hidden beneath your calm exterior. His dark eyes burned with quiet judgment, tempered by curiosity. The corner of his mouth tugged upward, barely perceptible, when he let out a soft hum, the tension in his posture easing. "Good," he murmured, the single word carrying weight, as though it was meant to confirm something greater. Yet, behind his eyes, the storm never ceased, always swirling, always waiting.

You inhaled deeply, the air between you thick with unspoken things. For a long moment, you said nothing, your mind racing through the years, the faces, and the memories long buried under the weight of time and pain. The ocean waves crashed in the distance, steady and unyielding, much like the man before you. The ships bobbed on the horizon, their sails catching the wind as if they were fleeing toward freedom, away from all that was this city—this place of blood and betrayal.

You turned your gaze toward the sea, your voice low as you spoke, almost as if the memory itself had pulled the words from your lips. "You were right, your grace. I knew her… your sister, Princess Elia."

Oberyn’s expression flickered, a subtle shift from curiosity to something more personal, more vulnerable, as he stepped closer to you. His presence was quiet but commanding, the warmth of him beside you drawing your attention. You didn’t look at him; instead, you watched the ships, the waves crashing against the cliffs in the distance.

"It was a long time ago," you continued, your voice soft, filled with a kind of sorrow that time couldn’t quite erase. "I wasn’t a good person then… I don’t know if I am now." Your words hung in the air, fragile but true.

The wind whipped through your hair as the memory surged forth, pulling you back to that day—the day you first met her. You had been standing on the cliffs near Sunspear, staring down at the waters below. The waves had seemed so inviting, so final. You’d been ready to let go, ready to fall and end the pain that had gripped you for far too long.

But then, you heard a cry.

Princess Elia had been in the water, struggling against the currents, her graceful arms failing to keep her afloat. It was instinct, something primal within you that made you dive into the water, though you had been moments away from letting it take you. You swam with a strength you didn’t know you possessed, reaching her, pulling her to the shore. You’d saved her, though you had been prepared to die.

When you reached the sand, both of you gasping for breath, Elia had looked at you, her deep brown eyes searching yours, knowing, seeing far too much. "You were going to jump, weren’t you?" she had asked, her voice soft but piercing.

You had only nodded, the pressure of your decision still clinging to you like the seaweed wrapped around your legs.

Elia had smiled then, a gentle, sorrowful thing. "Thank you for saving me… even when you couldn’t save yourself." Her words had haunted you ever since.

The memory faded, and you were back in the present, the ocean still stretching before you, endless and indifferent. Oberyn stood beside you, silent for a long moment, absorbing your words. His expression remained unreadable, but his eyes flickered with understanding, with a shared pain.

"You were the one," he said quietly, almost as if speaking to himself. "The servant girl… the one who survived." His voice was careful, probing, seeking confirmation of a story long buried under the rubble of war and tragedy.

Your face remained void of emotion as you turned to meet his gaze, your eyes hollowed by the weight of the years and the scars you carried. "I haven't forgotten even a day," you replied, your voice eerily calm, devoid of the turmoil you felt. "Some hatred resembles longing. It's impossible to get rid of."

Oberyn's gaze lingered on you, his expression softening, though the tempest within him still raged. His eyes, dark and intense, mirrored the turmoil that churned beneath your own surface. “I’ve also hit rock bottom before,” he said, his voice carrying a rare gentleness. “So, I understand the weight of your anger.”

His words hung in the salt-tinged air, a bridge between the two of you—both bound by memories of a woman long gone, and a shared desire for something that felt like justice but tasted more like vengeance. The sea continued its relentless assault on the cliffs, indifferent to your pain, your histories, and the scars neither of you could erase. The world moved on, as uncaring as ever, while you stood still in the face of it.

Oberyn turned slightly toward you, his expression more searching now. "Is that why you came to King's Landing?" His question was quiet, but the weight of it settled between you like a stone dropped into a deep well.

Without turning to face him, you let out a bitter laugh, the sound lost in the crash of waves. "Isn’t that why you’re here too?"

The words hit him with a force that made him pause, a flash of something unreadable passing across his face. Oberyn was silent for a moment, studying you as if trying to gauge the depth of your resolve. He shifted, his usual confidence tempered by something more cautious now. "You know what revenge does to people," he said softly, his tone laced with concern. "I’ve seen it. I’ve lived it. It devours you, bit by bit, until there’s nothing left but the anger. It’s… not something someone like you should carry."

You scoffed, the words cutting through you, sharper than any blade. "Someone like me?" you echoed, turning to face him fully for the first time since the conversation began. Your eyes locked onto his, challenging, as if daring him to explain what he meant.

Oberyn’s brow furrowed, a rare crease in the otherwise unshakeable mask he wore. "You carry enough," he said, voice low but firm. "You shouldn’t be the one to deal with this. It will change you."

His worry was unexpected, disarming even, and for a moment, you saw the weight of his own guilt reflected in his gaze—the burdens he carried, the losses he had never fully avenged. But there was also a flicker of something protective, something he wasn’t ready to admit to.

You turned back toward the sea, your heart heavy with a mix of rage and sorrow. The waves below crashed louder now, their rhythm matching the pounding in your chest. "I’ve already been changed," you whispered, your voice barely audible above the roar of the ocean. "There’s nothing left to take."

Oberyn stepped closer, his presence warm beside you, though the space between you felt vast. “There’s always something left,” he murmured, his voice softer now, the edge of worry still lacing his words. “You just don’t see it yet.”

The silence between you stretched long, as the sea kept its pace, unbothered by the weight of two broken souls standing on the cliffs above it. Neither of you spoke again for some time, each lost in your own thoughts, but bound by an understanding neither of you had expected.

Both here for vengeance. Both already paying its price.

KING'S LANDING, RED KEEP — EVENING

The evening air clung heavily to the Red Keep, filled with the scent of the sea and the distant hum of King’s Landing. After leaving Oberyn by the cliffs, the weight of exhaustion settled into your bones, dragging you through the motions of the day. Each task completed, each conversation had, felt like a necessary distraction—an anchor to keep you from drowning in your thoughts. Yet, none of it could quiet the storm within.

Once your duties were done, you retreated to your small chambers, the flickering light of a lone candle casting shadows against the stone walls. You sat at the edge of your bed, a leather journal resting on your lap. The worn pages were a map of your thoughts, your plans, your vengeance. You traced a finger over the spine, staring down at the leather-bound book that held all the pieces of your story. It was here, in the quiet of the night, that you could feel the weight of everything you’d worked for, everything you had planned.

Your revenge.

You glanced at the drawer where your dagger rested, a constant companion in this journey, but tonight you would leave it behind. Tonight was not for the blade, but for something else entirely. Whispered words from the servants confirmed that Ellaria was out in the brothels, and that knowledge settled something within you.

You changed swiftly into a nightgown, the soft fabric brushing against your skin, and draped a dark cloak over your shoulders. It shrouded your form as you slipped through the halls of the Red Keep, every step measured, your path taking you toward the guest quarters. Toward Oberyn.

MAIDENVAULT, GUEST CHAMBERS

KING’S LANDING, RED KEEP - EVENING

The corridors were dimly lit, and you moved like a shadow, slipping unnoticed through the Keep. The cold stone beneath your feet did little to deter you as you made your way to the door of Oberyn’s chambers.

You hesitated for only a moment, then pushed the door open, slipping inside before the guards could take notice. The room was dim, lit only by the pale silver of the moonlight filtering in through the window. Oberyn stood near the bed, surprised by your sudden presence, his dark eyes meeting yours as you stepped into the moonlight, the cloak falling away from your shoulders.

He closed the door behind him, his gaze flickering over you, curiosity and something else stirring in his eyes. "I didn’t expect company tonight," he said, his voice low, a touch playful as he stepped closer. "Is this what I think it is?"

You didn’t respond immediately. Instead, your fingers moved to the ties of your nightgown, pulling them loose until the fabric slipped down from your shoulders, falling in a whispering heap at your feet. Oberyn’s smirk faltered as the moonlight revealed the truth—scarred, burned, and marred flesh stretching across your body like a grotesque map of past pain.

"It felt like a white night, and sometimes it felt like a polar night, too."

His amusement vanished, replaced by horror, by understanding. "Gods…" he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper as he took in the damage that covered every inch of you.

“Ugly, right?” Your voice was toneless, cold. “My scars.”

Oberyn’s eyes darkened, but not with revulsion—only fury, a quiet, simmering rage that burned behind his otherwise calm exterior. He didn’t need to ask who had done this to you. The answer was written in the jagged lines that crisscrossed your skin. He knew. He had always known the darkness that resided in this city, but seeing it on you, it seemed to strike deeper.

“They’re not ugly,” he said softly, stepping closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “They’re injuries.” His voice was a mixture of defiance and sympathy, the edges rough with something dangerous.

You shook your head, meeting his gaze with a stark intensity. "I’m not looking for a prince," you said, your voice steady and without emotion. “What I need is not a prince, but a headsman who will join me in the sword dance.”

Oberyn’s jaw tightened, the weight of your words sinking into the space between you. For a moment, you could see the conflict in his eyes—the warrior who knew the toll of vengeance, and the lover who wished to shield you from it. But as he looked at the scars on your body, the decision seemed to solidify within him.

"Once your revenge is over, your world will also be in ruins," he said, his voice still holding the trace of concern, but it was quickly fading.

"I’m already in complete ruins with no dignity left," you replied, your voice like iron. "So, go back. I’d like to stay faithful to my rage and vice"

Oberyn exhaled slowly, the storm within him finally breaking. His fingers flexed at his side, as if already reaching for the hilt of his sword. “I’ll do it,” he said, stepping even closer until his presence was all-encompassing. “I’ll be your headsman. I’ll join the sword dance.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as his words sunk in, the finality of them sending a thrill through you. “I’ll do whatever you say,” he continued, his voice like a vow. “As if it’s a royal command. Anything at all.”

He reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against your arm, his touch surprisingly gentle despite the violence in his words. “I’ll show you a wild sword dance,” he promised, his eyes locked on yours, filled with a deadly sort of resolve.

In that moment, you both knew there was no turning back. The sword dance would begin, and neither of you would emerge the same.

TAGLIST:

@christinamadsen @greenwitchfromthewoods

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cruyuu · 26 days

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"Sukuna died being loved." despite everything. despite being an absolute terror and ruining yuuji's and everyone else's lives. despite all the chaos, pain and destruction... he still died being loved by the very same person he hurt the most :"))) THIS PURE LOVE!! IT DOESNT GET MORE OBVIOUS THAN THAT. I'm actually in shambles after this chapter (in a good way). gege wrote the most beautiful love story ever between a boy and his curse... wow :")) I have nothing else to add to be honest I just came to yell and cry in your inbox (I hope you don't mind heh)

Hi ola!

Exactly. Despite being the worst of the worst, despite even hurting him, Sukuna is still accepted by Yuuji. Why? Because he's just being himself. That's truly the purest forms of love, one which is unconditional and one which is said to not exist because of how crazy it is.

Yeah, 268 also really made me emotional :( There will never be another ship like them. A pair who saw each other at their worst and at their best, who accepted each other despite their own viewpoints and, in the end, loved each other despite who they were as individuals. They have it all and they'll always be in my heart. What a ship, man. (Gege really doesn't play about romance.)

And don't apologize! My inbox is always open and I truly don't mind.

#melanswers #sukuita

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iwritenarrativesandstuff · 2 months

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Yuri posting time. These are ships I personally vibe with from what I post about on here.

Higuchi and Gin (BSD): Okay, I'm not sure I can really explain this properly because it's so entwined with the plot of a particular fic I've been wanting to write about them, and I don't really want to spoil where it goes too much? Basically, I love the potential of two characters who (it's implied) got involved with dangerous work for the sake of their siblings. Higuchi's idealized view of romance contrasts with Gin's survival mentality (which is similar to Akutagawa's). At the same time, Higuchi gives Gin opportunities to express different sides of herself. They both work for the sake of others. Okay, so canonically, there isn't a lot there, because there is little exploration of the themes of BSD through these two characters, unfortunately. But, with a combination of "what if I explored the themes through these characters", some influence from O-Gin and Higuchi-sensei's works, and a touch of my own personal brand of "fuck it, we ball, and see where it rolls", I think there's a lot of fun things you can pull at.

Higuchi and Tsujimura (BSD): Not a long-term relationship. They're best friends who had a brief fling and then decided to remain friends. To me.

Wells and Sasaki (BSD): Absolute crack ship that I have not stopped thinking about since you suggested it @lucythejudge. It's so funny.

Meryl and Milly (Trigun): !!! THEM!!! AUGH! They spent!!! Eight months navigating the apocalypse together!!! Milly's smile and presence is enough to help Meryl out of her dark thoughts! Milly is unable to sleep when Meryl is in danger! Milly challenges Vash and Wolfwood when they try to stop her from rescuing Meryl! Meryl has complete faith in Milly to intervene when she has a literal contract killer pointing a gun at her head!!! They're always at each other's sides! THEY!

Coco and Agott (WHA): They give me slight killugon vibes (also maybe lumity - but I've never actually watched owl house unfortunately). Cute and pure. I hope they continue to inspire each other. :)

Theta and Morena (HxH): Saw art for this once. They haven't even interacted. But still, my brain thinks about it and goes ohohohoho

Ann and Shiho (P5R): Ahhh... they want to be strong for each other... avenging Shiho was Ann's reason for awakening... ahhhhhh

Ann and Mika (P5R): I just think Ann's canonical admiration for women who are mean is incredibly funny and so real. Get her a mean girlfriend.

Makoto and Hifumi (P5R): Okay, they hit it off immediately and also I want to see how intense they get over a game of shogi. Everyone quietly backing away from them... lmao. Also I think it's nice because Makoto could understand Hifumi's struggles with expectation and wanting to help her family, and Hifumi offers a familiar setting (intellectual, strategic) with opportunities for Makoto to expand her understanding as well as form a solid connection. They should be best friends at least!

Bonus:

This idea I had for a fucked up polycule that never actually becomes a polycule and is literally just Yosano, Wells, and Mary all being needed for some kind of research, with a stressed Tsujimura as their supervisor. There is... some kind of tension happening amidst the often inadvisable scientific decisions being made. No sex or romance actually ever occurs but there are conversations that sound suspiciously like flirting that usually end in Yosano gleefully hacking at something or someone in her temporary office, Mary nearly downing the entire grid because she diverted all the power to her latest project that then promptly exploded, or Wells vanishing then abruptly and calmly reappearing minutes later with no explanation except "the world will survive another day". Tsujimura is about ready to tear her hair out. The cat thief drops in sporadically to cause extra chaos. This too, is yuri.

#storyrambles #wheeeee #some of these are serious. some of these are not. either way.#yuri #bsd #trigun #hxh #wha #p5r #i am very proud of the scientist polycule i'll have you know

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verai-marcel · 1 year

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Your Hearth Is My Home (BG3 Fanfic, Astarion x Female Reader, Part 1 of 27)

Summary: Not every adventurer wields a weapon. You, a hearth witch living near the banks of River Chionthar, are witness to a craft falling from the sky, and wondering if anyone needed assistance, ran down to find survivors. That was your first mistake. Going along with the survivors on their crazy adventure? That was your second mistake. Will you survive your next mistake of letting a hungry vampire bite you?

Author’s Notes: Full disclosure: at this point, I’ve only played through act 2 without romancing Astarion. So why the fuck am I writing some wholesome Astarion x F!Reader? Because I’m dumb and got spoiled on Youtube, and now I can’t stop thinking about the poor guy. Also this is heavily influenced by a couple of wholesome manga (“Life in Another World as a Housekeeping Mage” and “The Forsaken Saintess and her Foodie Roadtrip in Another World”), but I won’t be writing an isekai. You (reader) are from Faerun like everyone else. I’m just here to have some wholesome feels and hurt/comfort. Let’s go go go.

Tags: wholesome, cozy camp time, Astarion x F!Reader, slow burn, good alignment, BG3 Spoilers

Chapter Word Count: 1,843

Ao3 Link here, Darling.

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Act I, Chapter 1 - The Beginning

You are a hearth witch, living on the banks of the River Chionthar, making potions and herbal remedies for the small villages nearby. For the past three years, you’d been happier than you’d ever been in your life. You loved helping people, but you made sure not to reveal your real name, nor why you always wore long sleeves and gloves, even in the middle of summer.

But the nearby villages had been emptying as of late. News of the goblin camp that recently appeared nearby had first scared off the traveling merchants, and then the locals. You realized that you too should leave, otherwise you’d either have no more customers or goblins on your doorstep. You only had a dagger and a few spells that did little in ways of actual damage, so defending yourself against a horde of enemies was out of the question. So you began to pack up, figuring out what you could bring with you, and what needed to be repurchased once you reached your new home, wherever that might be.

On a warm sunny day, you decided that this would be your last day here. Your pack was filled, your cottage cleaned out. Tomorrow morning, you would take off to the east, following the river to the next closest town. For now, you decided to grab a few more ingredients for the road, and so, you were out by the river bank, gathering fresh herbs and mushrooms.

A booming sound followed a strong gust of wind that whipped around you, twigs and grass flying everywhere. Then you saw a ship crash nearby, the land and water being torn asunder, debris flung in all directions. After the chaos died down a bit, you went to go check for survivors. You couldn’t, in good conscience, walk away if someone might need help.

That was a poor decision on your part.

The first survivor you found was a young, dark-haired woman, passed out on the shore. She seemed standoffish, but after helping her up and giving her a drink from your waterskin, you convinced her that the best thing to do was to get out of the area and rest at your cottage while she regained her bearings.

A little while later, the two of you came upon the strange sight of a single arm, sticking out of a glowing purple rune. You and the young woman, Shadowheart, pulled the poor man out. He introduced himself as Gale, and also joined your party.

As the three of you continued back to your cottage, you came across another stranger. Skin as pale as marble and hair to match. Had some scars on his neck. Perhaps he got them on the ship? He seemed harmless enough. Another escapee of the craft that fell from the sky.

That is, until he tricked you into looking for something in the bushes.

If only he hadn’t touched your exposed neck with his bare hand. Then you wouldn’t have felt the fear, underlined by a desperation you knew all too well.

The leash is cut.

It made you empathize. And that was one rule that had been burned into your mind at a young age.

Do not empathize with the enemy.

Fortunately, Gale and Shadowheart talked him down from stabbing you. The man even apologized to you, though it seemed more for show than for sincerity.

Astarion was his name. He introduced himself with aplomb and decorum, and your hackles raised at the sight. A noble.

After a bit more conversation, they agreed that their shared affliction was enough of a reason to travel together and find a cure.

Swallowing down your general prejudice against nobles, you ignored him and made small talk with the others as you led them back to your cottage.

***

Your cottage had only one room, enough space for your bed, some storage for herbs and tools, and a work table for your alchemy. Most of your things were packed, but you pulled out enough to take care of your guests.

The yard to the side of the building was set up as a small campground for travelers to rest. You had figured out a couple years ago that for a small fee, traveling merchants would gladly rest on your land where it was safe, while you made them fresh, nourishing meals and cast spells on their bedrolls to make them feel warm and comfortable. You even managed to get a small tub built in the back to provide a warm bath for an extra fee.

It had been a lucrative idea, one that made you enough money to be quite comfortable out here in the sticks.

You may only know a few cantrips, but you had manipulated them beyond what most people did. Your mending cantrip could fix whole swaths of cloth, your prestidigitation cantrip could keep bedrolls warm all night, or baths hot for hours. It was why you had several repeat customers, traveling merchants who would alter their routes to come to your place to rest.

You told them of the surrounding area and cooked a meal for them, a simple stew with seasonal vegetables and herbs.

The noble said he wasn’t hungry. You supposed your poor peasant food wasn’t to his taste.

He can suit himself.

While the others were eating, you set up the campground. While you were quietly casting the comfort cantrip on each bedroll, you sensed someone watching you.

“Yes?” you asked, biting the inside of your mouth to keep from being snippy.

Astarion stepped closer to you. He remained standing, looking down on your kneeling form. “What an interesting way to use prestidigitation.”

You shrugged. You had nothing to say to a noble. You finished your spell and started to shuffle over to the next bedroll, but he remained standing in your way.

“Do you mind?”

“Not at all, darling.” He didn’t budge.

You let out a short huff and crawled around him. One bedroll left. Ignoring the man, you began the cantrip.

By the time you finished, you looked up to see all three of them watching you.

“What?” you asked, a little disturbed by the attention.

“I hadn’t thought to use that cantrip like this before,” Gale said as he knelt down to touch the bedroll. “How long does it last?”

“All night,” you responded, feeling a little proud of yourself.

Shadowheart was already crawling into the bedroll. “This feels amazing.” She buried herself into the cloth. “It feels like I’m sleeping on a warm cloud.”

Gale shrugged and followed suit. “Gods, you’re right.” He sat up and looked at you. “I don’t know how you manipulated that spell, but it’s absolutely brilliant.”

You felt a zing of joy. Your little custom cantrip impressed a wizard!

The noble watched you for a few more moments before he too, crawled into a bedroll. His eyes widened slightly. “Oh. My, this is rather comfortable.”

You jutted out your chin, but refrained from being too catty about it. Instead, you switched to being polite.

“Sweet dreams,” you said to everyone, and went about cleaning up around camp. By the time you were done, the three of them were fast asleep.

***

The motley crew thanked you and took off in the morning to explore the area, seemingly never to return.

You looked around at your unpacked things, and decided that it wouldn’t hurt to start off tomorrow morning instead.

Your plans were sidetracked once more, however, when the group returned that evening with a fourth member, grouchy and prickly as a threatened porcupine. After a couple of bowls of your herbal soup, she became a little bit less prickly. Lae'zel was her name, and she punctuated her Common speech with her Githyanki tongue. You found it a bit endearing, the way one finds a stray animal that always hisses at you endearing.

You cast a warming spell on their bed rolls once more, burned incense to keep the insects away, and made sure they were all comfortable in your little camp area outside of your cottage before going to bed.

The next morning, you got up early to make breakfast for them before they left to explore the ruins that they had found the day before. As you checked your rabbit traps, you noticed one of them was tripped, but the rabbit within was a mere husk, as if it had been dehydrated.

Curious.

You reset your trap and returned to camp.

“What’s that?” Shadowheart asked when she saw the husk of a corpse in your hand.

“A dried up rabbit.”

“That doesn’t sound appetizing,” Lae’zel remarked.

You shrugged. “I can at least sell the pelt later. Sorry, you’ll have to make do with another vegetable stew tonight.” You furrowed your eyebrows. “That is, if you’re coming back here.”

The four adventurers looked at each other.

“I think we’ve taken advantage of your hospitality long enough,” Gale said. We’ll start heading west from here.”

***

The group had finally left, and you had finished packing. You had been delayed by their arrival, but no longer. They truly seemed gone now, with the sun setting and no sign of their return. Tomorrow for sure. Tomorrow, early in the morning, you would set off—

You heard your name being called. Off in the distance, you could see Gale, waving sheepishly at you, followed by the others.

You sighed. Biting back your annoyance, you smiled and waved back. A customer was a customer. At least this group was entertaining, and quite generous with their gold. And this time, they brought you back some boar meat.

There was one new face, a man with a stone eye. He introduced himself as the Blade of the Frontiers, Wyll. He seemed nice, charismatic even. Someone who had the manners of a noble but the heart of a commoner.

They set up camp once more in your yard, and you unpacked just enough of your supplies to make them a meal.

"You look like you're ready to go on a journey," Gale commented as you all sat around the campfire, eating a boar roast with herbed potatoes.

"I'm moving. Many people have moved away because of the increase in goblins in the area, and a lot of my business has dried up. And having goblins this close doesn't make me feel all too safe."

“Any plans on where?”

You shrugged. “Not really. I was just going to travel until I found a place to settle.”

"Well, why don't you come with us?"

Everyone looked at Gale in shock, but then they all looked at you.

"You do make camp much more comfortable," Shadowheart finally said.

“And one of us would be standing guard at camp as well, so you would be safe,” Wyll added.

You saw no reason to decline. You liked most of them, save for one snotty noble. A constant flow of income would be nice, for once. You negotiated a decent wage and agreed to head out with them at first light.

That, dear hearth witch, was your second poor decision.

--------

Chapter End Notes:

Yeah, I basically made up a “hearth witch” class as a combo of druid, wizard, and cleric, but hey, welcome to Dungeons & Dragons, where homebrew classes happen all the time. Hope you enjoyed the fic! I'm actively working on the next chapter!

Update 4/4/24: All chapters are here!

#bg3 #bg3 fanfic #astarion #astarion x F!Reader #slow burn #female reader #baldur's gate 3 #your hearth is my home

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cinnamon-galaxies · 2 months

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What are your top 3 favorite ship dynamics? I was watching “Relationship dynamics from tumblr 2” by tonka joey (give it a watch! It has 7 or maybe more parts and is really fun) on youtube and i got curious.

have a good day!

My favorite relationship dynamics

You literally send me into a rabbit hole with that question. I've been researching relationship dynamics for the last few hours straight and I'm pretty sure I won't stop for the next hours or even days. It's just so much fun and now I really feel the urge to draw Alastor and Mara in as many fitting relationship dynamics as possible. I swear, the ideas are COOKING.

There are so many good dynamics what makes it even harder for me to answer your question because it feels impossible for me to reduce the list to just my top three... So, this response might get a little bit out of hands. But maybe it'll be a helpful inspiration for anyone who reads this!

So, one of my all time favorite tropes is "enemies to lovers". And there are so many possibilities to showcase this trope in different dynamics...

First off, there's the classic "enemies to lovers". Both hate each other or are on different sides but end up falling in love. Oh, the denial and slow burn is just chefs kiss. I just adore a well written push and pull between two characters who are supposedly enemies or rivals but secretly pine for each other.

But what about two characters who despise each other but accidentally end up in bed just to regret their actions the morning after? Ooooooh, the potential... The possibility of creating delicious second hand embarrassment and the possible banter between the character's following afterwards while they continue pretending as if nothing happened even though both of them get constantly haunted by the memory of sharing a night together... Just 😘👌🏻

Or imagine enemies who are ALSO lovers? Like hate-love relationship but take it LITERALLY.

Another category of ship dynamics I ADORE is "villainous couples". Both of them just want to watch the world burn; they're both murderers and horrible people but their relationship is all loving, caring and healthy and just all over wholesome. They're devoted to each other like Gomez and Morticia Addams and support each other's heinous plans. This is definitely a top tier dynamic, in my opinion.

Other villain ship dynamics I like are "evil genius x the supportive". Or "the tough ahh mastermind villain x their annoying simp". (I've thought about this dynamic so often and it sounds hilarious.)

Or what I'm also into (which is also a classic) is "villain x ex hero". Who cares about redeeming the villain when the hero can get corrupted...? Especially if the villain is in the right the whole time or if the villain just loves to create chaos but is still charismatic af. (Dude doesn't need to be changed. He's perfect the way he is 👌🏻)

"The person who doesn't believe in love but then falls in love with the hopeless romantic" will also have my heart forever! The denial, the mutual pining but not wanting to confess because they fear rejection or appearing weak (It's basically every good Alastor x OC/reader romance story I've read and I'm down bad for this trope.)

"Grumpy x Sunshine"? A classic. I like it. But what about "looks evil but is actually sweet x looks sweet but is actually a psychopath"?

Or "looks dangerous but is completely harmless x looks harmless but will actually kill you if you hurt their partner"?

"Big scary demon overlord x their little bean" is also so much fun to read and write. Or just imagine "big scary demon overlord x random dude":

Character A: "ł'₥ ₲ØⱤ₲Ø₮Ⱨ, ĐɆ₴₮ⱤØɎɆⱤ Ø₣ ₩ØⱤⱠĐ₴!!! And this is Steve."

Character B: *casually waves their hand*

Or just "the tough ahh stoic and intimidating character who has a huge soft spot for character B"... It's so cute in my opinion and I just love it when all grumpy melts around their partner... It makes them appear even more special to them...

I also like the idea of "tough and serious x silly and clumsy" (bonus points if they have ADHD).

I just really like polar opposites as a dynamic, especially if everyone else thinks they don't match but it actually works out perfectly for them! They're so much fun and can complement each other in ways that make stories so exciting...

Well, that was already a lot. But since I've already exaggerated this post I can also just round this off by adding a list of other ship dynamics I think are fun:

- autism x ADHD

- wide eyed and curious x the cool one that admires them

- character that get shipped with each other and both of them hate it/find it annoying

- chill tall one x angry short one

- traumatized x traumatized but smug

- two idiots with one brain cell (they share that single brain cell)

- scary eldritch horror x the one who thinks it's kinky (this just sounds so much fun... Imagine character A goes all scary and intimidating but B is just: "Damn, that's hot.")

And well, basically Gomez x Morticia. (I know I already mentioned it but that was in the "villain" context. They don't need to be evil. They're just a wholesome and happy couple that's completely devoted to each other until the end of time.)

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idwsonicshowdown · 1 year

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HAPPY PRIDE FROM THE IDW SONIC SHOWDOWN! Made it just in time before pride finishes here in the UK, but pride lasts all year around anyway. However you celebrate and whatever flags you use to represent yourselves, I hope you have a good one Here's a little doodle featuring characters from IDW and a few other Sonic comics who have some degree of queer to them, either in the comics, word of god or popular headcanons. I wanted to include more (shout out to Mighty's gay dad and his dinosaur bf from StC!), but ran out of time and space A little more info about each character, in case anyone's curious:

From top left: Tekno the Canary - From Fleetway Sonic the Comic, a character widely embraced by the queer community. In a conclusion to StC written by series writer Nigel Kitching and released on StC:Online, Tekno is revealed to be in a relationship and have a child with Amy Rose. As of this year, Tekno's creator Lew Stringer gave his blessing for fans to think of her as non-binary, even if he himself wrote her as female - leading some fans to embrace Tekno as she/they Gold the Tenrec - From the Archie Sonic Comics, Gold has been stated by creator Evan Stanley to be attracted to women, although Stanley wasn't sure if Gold was strictly bi or gay, which is why I opted to give her the rainbow flag here Tangle & Whisper - As close as we can possibly get to being a couple without officially being a couple. Hopefully one day! I was actually going to use the rainbow flag for them as well, but as of this month's issue, the duo appeared with a lesbian patterned sky in the background, so they got the lesbian flag Dr. Starline - Headcanoned by some to be a transman because his spurs (which are naturally occurring in male platypuses) are artificial. It's also generally accepted (I think??) that his idolising of Eggman may be romantic. I did a poll for which flag to give him and the gay flag won, so he got that one Nite & Don - Our married bird guys! Good for them! Again, I gave them the rainbow pride flag because it hasn't been stated (that I know) if they're gay, bi, pan or otherwise, but they're happy and together either way Sally Acorn (with tiny Nicole!) - My childhood fave from the Archie Comics. This chipmunk is bisexual and there is nothing you can do about it Lanolin the Sheep - Many of us are optimistic that Lanolin might quietly be the trans rep we've been hoping for from Sonic, as she's a girl sheep with horns Cheese the Chao - As chao are non-binary, I included Cheese to represent them, because Cheese is cool Sonic the Hedgehog - A touchstone to many in the community. I included the asexual, aromantic and trans flags in his speed trail, as Sonic won the t-boy swag tournament on tumblr and Sonic/no one was voted the best Sonic ship on tumblr. As a trans aroace person myself, Sonic's lack of interest in romance and conformity was always inspirational to me growing up. The rainbow facepaint is because I'm sure that he's as important to other members of the community in their identities as well As always, these are my readings and takes on these characters that may not align with your own or be canon in anyway. But I hope that you can find joy and peace in pride as I do regardless :3

#IDW Sonic #Pride #IDW Sonic Showdown #Sonic the Comic #Archie Sonic #my problem is that although i only draw once every 3 years #i wanna draw big group pics whenever i do

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the-sinful-voice-witch · 3 months

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The beauty🌹 of Shadamy

Isn't it just wonderful how my dear Amy Rose gets paired romantically with every Sonic Rival in the fandom? Even Blaze! And fortunately not much with Jet 😂😂 My favorite one obviously is Shadamy, followed by Surgamy and finally with Metal Sonic but seriously, to me nothing beats THE Shadamy❤🖤🩷.

So the BEST thing about this ship to me is that it was born out of a single interaction 😆 and I don't mean the moment she colorblinded mistook him for Sonic and hugged him nooooope I mean the moment she reminded him about Maria Robotnik's 🥺 true wish by giving him a similar speech of hope and second chances and after that he said: I have to fufill my promise for Maria... And you... Me after seeing that👇👇

(Funny this gif, casually she was also fangirling about a... SHAMY 🤣🤣 only the ones who know the show will get it)

Seriously, is fascinating how popular this ship became of that single interaction that led fans to write a HUGE amount of fanfiction of them and is always so romantic or so passionate or so angsty God I never get tired of it, one of my favorite portrayals of Shadamy is when Shadow is kind of a emo simp towards her, like he is simply adoring her even when she only looks at Sonic who is not looking at her 😭... Ah drama. 😂 I remember a few stories back when I was a pre teen... Like "el blog de Amy Rose" That's the only written fanfic name I remember and it was a total soap opera, a total and absolute telenovela full of all kinds of drama like Silver was their son and Sonic and Shadow were lost brothers 😂. Then I remember I few comics like Ternion that was an insanely passionate and angsty story with an excellent art that to contribute to my torture it was never finished... And boy I know the author had a secret smut chapter that she never posted anywhere... We know it exists because there were a few hot scenes in a video... 😭 but never happened the story didn't even reach half of what I think it was going to be🥲. In Chaos universe there's a double story in one Sonic and Amy had a daughter named Sonia but in an alternative universe we have María Rose who is Shadow and Amy's daughter... Is another tragedy were Amy is dead in both universes 😭 and of course I'm totally biased with Maria Rose's universe because the way her dad remember Amy's just hits different, seriously is way more enjoyably painful 🥲 and then the most current comics I'm addicted to of course IDOL AMY portrayed Shadow exactly how I said I like him the most 🥺 and the last one I saw is one apocalyptic where obviously Shadow survives and mourns a dead Amy: Future's Shadow... Girl this hedgehog can't catch a break they like to see him suffer 🥲🥲🥲

Now let's focus in the official interactions:

The Archie comics before the reboot kinda mistreated Amy portraying her in an annoying way most of the time just like in some games... And I wasn't a fan of a certain interaction she had with Shadow... (Those issues had a bitchy evil Rouge portrayal that I didn't like one bit🤬) I mean shadow actually kicks her in the stomach and hits her with her own hammer and... That just felt so wrong, you see I can't picture an scenario where Shadow would lay a hand on Amy in such a way as he did in those comics but I had a little comfort in this interaction at least 👇👇

She puts her faith on him when he doesn't have much faith on himself and that is something she also did in the games, like in Shadow the hedgehog own game. Then there was a reboot and we got better interactions, here we have Amy teasing him and he pouting adorably (and finally they dropped the Rouge is a bitch portrayal thank you😤)

We also see that they can make a good team

Hey Shadow how it feels to be hammered by her? 🤭😇, then we had the marvelous IDW reboot but we still don't have proper interactions (and this is the best Rouge💜)

Though honesty? This look like a romance novel scene... You know, with the bad boy being stubborn with the kind sweet girl 😂. Well Sonic IDW is still ongoing so we'll see if we get something more juicy... But I think I will be happy if they simply team up in a fight again.

And now let's talk about Twitter... Well, well, well have you noticed this tiny details in Sonic's Twitter takeovers? Someone asked "Shadow, will you marry me? " And they made Amy voice be the one reading that question 🧐, not only that the things Shadow described about what he wants in a partner for marriage were things that Amy totally would do perfectly (and to add some spice they made Sonic voice sound kind of upset to tease us with some sonadow too😂😂) and then the most precious and hilarious thing... SHADOW AND AMY ARE BOTH SWIFTIES 😆😆

And look! He got her ticket's 😭😭 and they went together!!! 😭😭😭(that's a DATE) and then in another Twitter takeover she tells about how they had fun and got shirts and then Sonic got jealous 😭😭😭 KYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA and look what SEGA IS DOING 👇👇👇

Pop Star Amy and Rock Star Shadow I can't... 😭😭 and paladin Amy and knight Shadow AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA THEY MATCH!!!!!

I'm telling you... Sonic team is indulging us with oficial Sonamy but they are also shamelessly teasing us with SHADAMY (and sonadow juju)

And seriously fellow comic artists, feel free to keep drawing Shadamy comics forever... We don't get tired... 😇 and SEGA... Don't be shy... We conform with little teasing details you don't have to confirm or deny anything but for future games... A little Shadamy won't hurt 🥺🙏, we want Shadamy in games too! IDW that goes for you too... If you are teasing Sonamy and Sonadow you can tease Shadamy too! (And Knouge too! 😫)

And all this reminds me that we should demand SEGA to reboot the Sonic Adventure games with new modern animation and also so it's playable in modern consoles! I want to play it with the Nintendo Switch!! 😤😤😤

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic #sonic idw #amy rose #sonic the hedghog movie #shadow the hedgehog #shadamy #rouge the bat #knuckles the echidna #miles tails prower #amy x shadow

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sublimecatgalaxy · 2 years

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Read It and Weep- Part 2

Pairing: NFL!Player!Rafe Cameron x Journalist!Reader

Summary: After a week of chaos, the Reader goes to interview their team during practice, chatting with them all about their win and their hopes for the next few Playoff games. But when the team sees how Rafe and Y/n interact, they decide to mess around a bit.

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: Violence, swearing, flirting, sexual tension.

Song: 'Bubbly' by Colbie Caillat

A/n: I'm so excited for this part. I love their interaction and I love writing their flirty moments. It's gonna get steamier from here on in so hold on! @tee-swizzle, here's your babydaddy.

I got so many messages following Sunday’s game.

Instagram, snapchat, twitter, my email was even blowing up along with text messages rumbling in from nearly every single person that I know along with people that I had never met before.

There was this sudden interest in my life. People who really never wanted anything to do with me in high school now want everything to do with me, tickets to games, behind the scenes info, all the things that I would give them if we were actually friends but we’re not. Old family members that I didn’t talk to anymore except for birthdays and holidays were suddenly so interested in my job, wanting to read everything I’ve ever published.

There were even tweets left by other football players on my most recent tweet that I posted, addressing the loads of questions about my state and about whether I’m okay or not. I just simply stated that I’m okay and don’t need any medical interventions and that Rafe was a gentleman for helping me up. I only made the post in the first place because half of the people that commented or reached out were concerned that Rafe had actually hurt me when he took me down when indeed, it was just my pride. Had I known that by posting that, I’d be getting interaction from every football player out there, I wouldn’t have posted it to begin with, especially with the incessant jokes they’ve left on my page- jokes that have attracted news stations in our area along with NFL commentators.

Rafe Cameron’s new woman?

Was the run in between sports journalist Y/n Y/L/N and Rafe Cameron planned to act as a sort of ‘hard launch’?

Does Y/L/N have it out for Rafe Cameron’s wide receiver paycheck?

The jokes started with Rafe’s own team, the team who’s known me as their faithful journalist, all turning against me to make jokes at my expense about how I ‘fell for Cameron’ and even made jokes about making our ‘ship name’ on shirts and hats for the whole team to wear.

Given their track record, I assumed that they’d do it.

But it did bother me, to see people all of a sudden equate my worth to one incident with a person that I barely know, chalking up our ten minutes of conversation into this huge love story where I’m the desperate damsel and he’s this loverboy giving me the chance of a lifetime, a chance to ‘be with him’, even though neither him nor I have talked to each other since the whole incident.

I got people asking me for interviews left and right, newscasters begging me to come on their shows and podcasts to speak about my opinion of the Rafe Cameron. I even got a call from my own manager asking if I would write a piece on Rafe and I almost agreed but then I wondered how weird it would be for him to read an article written by the girl that he flirted with during a whole entire conference and also toppled over when winning one of the most important games of the season.

I came up with the alternative that I would go and interview all of the players as a whole during their at home practice before we all hop on a plane and go to Boston for a playoff game. My boss was on board and claimed it would bring in enough publicity, especially since half the country is looking forward to hearing Rafe and I interact, pining after us like we’re some fictional romance or as if I’m a contestant on a TLC dating show.

My heels click against the concrete of the tunnel and my stomach only hurts more and more the closer I get to the literal light at the end of the tunnel. I can hear the men yelling and running around and I can already picture the bright smiles on all of their faces, knowing how excited they get for interviews. They’ll do anything for a break.

I’m going to be honest, the amount of effort that went into my outfit, make up and hair was probably a little bit excessive but there’s a part of me that wants to do what everyone’s been talking about all over social media; knock Rafe off his feet. It was such a confidence boost to see Rafe completely and utterly enthralled in my very presence at the conference and I’d be stupid to ignore the follow request in my instagram right now, from him.

When I stepped out into the sun, I’m immediately caught off guard by a bunch of whistles sung into the air, my neck craning to look at the bench with a teasing look, watching the huge men lining the bench wave sweetly at me with feigned affection. I give them an awkward wave in return as they all begin to shout individually;

“Hey Cameron! Your girlfriends here!”

“Rafe, your girl’s here to see you.”

“Your baby mama's here, Rafe!”

“Baby mama- what?” I giggle breathlessly and under my breath, watching Rafe slip his helmet off and he jogs towards me. Before he can reach me, I take a step back, holding a teasing hand up to his chest, feeling his heart pound beneath my fingers. “Don’t want you taking me down again.” He looks shocked for a moment before he laughs sheepishly, eyes rolling at my obvious taunting and he takes a step back with his arms raised in surrender.

“Jesus, it was one time.” He scoffs, reaching up to rub at the back of his neck, a gentle blush sweeping across his cheeks cutely. “I’m never gonna get past that am I?” My head shakes rapidly at him with a huge, proud grin, reaching out to pat his shoulder, feeling sparks beneath my fingers.

“Never, nope. Not when the whole internet is talking about it.” A look of realization passes across his face and I can see the images of the tweets and articles pass through his eyes and I imagine the same, picturing all of the snapshots that the cameramen managed to take of us and, to be honest, it took everything in me to not save them to my phone and send them to my dad who still refuses to believe that Rafe and I actually talked, even after hearing the post-conference conversation and the actual tackle in the first place.

“Correction, talking about us.” He grins, swaying gently on his feet while pointing a finger between the two of us and I tilt my head at him with a dumb smile.

“What us?”

“Ouch Cameron, she’s got you wrapped around her little, talented finger.” Greg approaches us quickly and without warning, swooping an arm around Rafe’s shoulder as he gives me a handsome smile and a wink. Rafe’s soft expression drops almost immediately and it doesn’t go without noticing the way his shoulders tense the minute Greg appears, his hungry eyes staring at me like a predator would look at its prey.

“Hi Greg.” I smile politely, ignoring the way that Rafe takes a step closer to me, glazing over at me as I pull my notepad out, prepared to give Greg my typical interview questions but he speaks before I can ask any questions.

“Hey, sweetcheeks. Are you here to interview us? Coach said something about it.” Greg asks, turning to look at Rafe with a shit eating grin and Rafe sighs, shoving his friend away from him and taking another protective step towards me, arm brushing against mine and it sends goosebumps down my spine.

“Yeah, I wanted to chat with some of you during practice, get some lines about the playoffs and winning last week's game.”

“Oh you mean the game where you won a buddy-boy's heart?” Greg winks at Rafe and Rafe clears his throat awkwardly, looking down at his feet with a tired smile. I pick up on the tension that’s between them, as if something’s happened in the last week that I’ve seen them. They’ve been fine all season, all buddy-buddy, a cute bromance, but today I can see the discomfort practically oozing out of Rafe as he stands so closely beside me.

“Get the fuck out of here, Greg. You’re the fucking quarterback, you need practice more than any of us.” Rafe shoves him away and turns to me, ignoring the questioning look that his friend gives him and I make a mental note to write down the ‘tension’ that appears to be wracking through the team as the playoffs come and go.

“Ouch, baby needs a nap.” Greg sends me a wink and a pervish smile, shoving Rafe towards me as he stumbles and I reach out to steady him, hands gripping his strong shoulders.

“Sorry about him. He’s a pain.” Rafe mutters, returning to his normal position across from me, still standing closer than before but keeping an honest distance between us, something my mom would call ‘leaving room for Jesus’ and, I’ll be honest, the closeness, the protectiveness, is extremely attractive and refreshing to see, especially from Rafe who’s already so strong and protective as is. And incredibly hot if I might add, not much room for Jesus here.

“Oh really? Couldn’t tell.” I laugh, reaching out to pat his shoulder in an attempt to console him and his shoulders roll in an attempt to loosen up a bit, jaw slacking. He laughs sheepishly at me with a soft smile, hooded eyes sweeping to look down at the ground and I can just make out the blush on his cheeks as he turns to look back at the team that’s still practicing.

“You’re funny. And stunning. You look different than your typical get-up.” His eyes shift to look over me once more, this time ten times more obvious than he did when he first approached me but not nearly as obvious as Greg’s eyes on my boobs.

“You know what my typical getup is?” I ask with an honest tilt of my head, teasing him but at the same time, it makes me wonder if he’s truly been paying attention to me longer than last week. The thought makes me think back to every single outfit I’ve ever worn in front of him, remembering the one time I wore a pretty embarrassing spongebob shirt to practice one day after I had woken up, completely and utterly hungover.

“I pay attention.” He shrugs with a coy smile.

“To a random journalist?”

“To a random beautiful woman? Yes.” His flirting is incessant but I have to give him credit because he is possibly one of the most sweet talking, charming people I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. He seems to know just what I want to hear and just what will have my heart racing. “Most distracting thing on the field.” He bumps me with his shoulder and I grin vividly, hands reaching up to rest on my cheeks to conceal the heat coming from them. “Did you get my follow request?”

“We should talk about the game.” I laugh awkwardly, suddenly feeling so comfortably claustrophobic in his shadow and I’m so close to him that I could just lean into him and fit my body into his. I bet his body would fit against mine like Cinderella's slipper.

Isn’t that what they’re calling us? A match made in heaven?

“Fine, fine. I’ll reel it in a bit.”

We fall into a comfortable silence, both of us turning to watch the players on the field, tossing the ball back and forth and running drills- but what gets my attention is the noises coming from the bench and I turn my head to see four of the players making faces at Rafe and I and clutching their chests in cute affection.

“Don’t look now but they’re making kissy faces at us.” I whisper to Rafe and he scoffs, giving them a simple look out of the corner of his eyes before he leans down to me, whispering against the shell of my ear and it has me gulping in breaths of air.

“Ignore them. They’re pussy-sober which makes them sad and stupid.” I giggle, shoving him away from me with wide, playful eyes.

“Oh and you’re not?” His lips part in a look of shock but a pleasant shock as his dropped jaw slowly turns into a bright smile, his head once more lulling forward as he avoids looking at me out of pure embarrassment.

“Ouch, Y/l/n.” He whispers, reaching up to pat his chest with a pout. “You wound me.”

“And you literally wounded me.” Folding my arms across my chest he pouts with furrowed brows, hands reaching out to rest on my shoulders as he gives me another once over, almost as if he’s looking for injuries though I think the real reason is to just have another reason to look at me.

“Fuck, I asked if you were hurt, you said you were fine. Are you okay? Do you need to get checked out, I’ll pay-” He starts but I reach up to place a hand on his chest, cutting his words off and instead he’s now tuned in on the fact that I’m touching him, his heart rate speeding up beneath my touch.

“Rafe, it’s a big bruise on my hip. I’ll live.”

The coach calls Rafe over almost immediately before Rafe can ask to see the wound on my hip and I’m glad that he did because the last thing I wanted was for him to see how big the bruise is and how big of a baby I actually am. How he was already so ready to take care of me, help me pay for medical care- I’m beginning to wonder if he’s just like this or if he’s just like this with me.

It’s fun to watch him play, watch him sprint across the field and catch the ball effortlessly, nine times out of ten falling dramatically to the ground after catching it and looking back at me with wide, excited eyes, almost asking ‘did you see that?’ It makes me appreciate his roots, the fact that at one time, he was just a little boy playing flag football and winning high school games and now he’s with the big boys, making all of his dreams come true. It’s quite the tearjerker.

“Hey, Y/n!” Rafe calls out suddenly, startling me from my note taking and I spot him running towards me with a ball. “Wanna learn how to throw?” He asks, tossing me the ball and I grin down at it, feeling the worn leather beneath my hands as Rafe’s pupils dilate a bit watching me, his hands moving to grip at the neckline of his jersey.

“Is this a part of the interview?” I ask teasingly, tossing the ball back in his direction and he rolls his eyes dramatically. “You don’t throw the ball, Rafe-”

“You can just say ‘I was shown exactly how Rafe and Greg do what they do and look great while doing it.” He winks and I scoff at him, turning my head just to hide the shit eating grin on my lips that seems to be a permanent thing around him. “C’mon.” He reaches out to take my hand gently in his as he begins to walk backwards, taking me further onto the field with every step I take. “Please?” He pleads, thumb brushing against my hand as I ponder for a moment, weighing the pros and cons but when I come up with nothing, I give him a simple shrug, taking the ball from him with a grin.

“Why not?”

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Series Tags: @onedayatatime6 @hysteriahall @littlefirefly08 @hanniebee33 @imsorare @acatwriteshere

#rafe #rafe x reader #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #outerbanks #outerbanks fic

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