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the-blind-assassin-12 · 8 months

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Aphelion - 11

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

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

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

Word Count: 16,754

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

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

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

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

Catch up with the Aphelion masterlist here!

(banner by @valkblue )

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

But unlike Oberyn, you didn’t think silently.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She cut my mark from her skin.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How is that a curse?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Were he and Toban -”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It made you feel better.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oberyn, you don’t have to -”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you. Thank you for being -”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why? Is it -”

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m just -”

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

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

“Choose someone you trust. Not family, if you can help it… but someone that you can have a conversation with. Talk for a few minutes, and then invite them out. Invite them to meet us at a random place around here. Are you familiar with the area?”

“Yeah.” You took the phone, turning it over in your hand. “Is there anywhere I should avoid?”

“No. Tyene can hear what you say. She’ll head to wherever you suggest next once she finishes with her friend and wait to see if anyone … else shows up before we do. Enhanced everything is an asset to us. And when we know it’s safe, you and I will head there, too.”

“Is this dangerous? I don’t want to risk it if … This was great. I don’t need to -”

“I heard what you said to Oberyn earlier. You need the interaction. You need to see a friendly human face.” He leaned closer. “You need more than any of us can give you right now.” He was right - and you knew it, so with a tiny nod of agreement, you averted your eyes and dialed a number you knew by heart.

It rang twice before someone picked up, and at the sound of the voice on the other end of the line, you closed your eyes, grinning. “Nora? It’s me. I’m so sorry I haven’t called you back. Want to meet for a drink?”

Tag list reblogs coming soon!

#oberyn martell #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell x female reader #pedrostories #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character #oberyn x female reader #the red viper #the prince of dorne #game of thrones fic #oberyn martell fic #oberyn martell vampire au #game of thrones au #modern oberyn au #cowritten with rachael #something tofightfor #aphelion #aphelion masterlist #oberyn martell masterlist

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fashionlandscapeblog · 1 year

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Jan et Joël Martel

Nu de femme dite 'de l'U.A.M.', 1931

#jan and joel martel #jan martel #joel martel #jan et joel martel #sculpture #cubism #modernism #modernist art #art #fine art

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sirowsky-stories · 9 months

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The Old Prince

So, this is my entry for the Halloween themed Pedro Pascal Writing Challenge hosted by @pedrocontestsrus Thank you for organizing this! And if anyone else is interested in entering the competition, here's a link to the post with all the info.

I chose Prompt #2 Theme: A Dark and Stormy Night. However, I suck at short, so this is basically just a teaser which I'm gonna have to continue outside of the contest.

Rating: Mature 18+ONLY Warnings: Monster Oberyn Martell x Female Reader, Game of Thrones AU, obviously Halloween themed, reader cusses, reader is attacked and abducted. Also, this is my first time writing Oberyn. Word Count: 4041 Author's Masterlist

You run at full speed despite the darkness, ignoring the burning in your lungs and the furious pounding of your heart, even though you know that he’s already gone and that your running would only scare him off if he wasn’t. The woods have always scared you and even now, in your mid-thirties, you still panic when you’re alone among the creaking old trees, spider webs and nightly active animals, all of whom seem intent on eating you. At least, to your own imagination.

“Damned it, Casper…” you breathlessly curse the horse for leaving you, once you’ve been forced to a stop by the pain in your lungs.

He’s normally very brave but being in the woods in the middle of a building storm is apparently too much even for his stout heart. So, you’re left to walk the remaining four miles to your house, and not for the first time, you find yourself wondering why the hell you’d chosen to live all the way out here, surrounded by the very woods that have always been such a source of discomfort to you.

“Because that was all you could afford, dimwit,” you chastise yourself out loud.

The house you now live in had been put up for sale after the previous owner had been missing for a few years and was eventually declared dead, despite her body never being found. It’s small and old, but well maintained and very charming, so you’d been surprised to be the only one interested in it.

You’ve lived there for over six years now and while it’s a bit secluded and a little too far from town, you do love it. The hiking trails leading up to the seven hills that make up the east boundary of the region run right by your property, and in daylight, you love to ride or just wander up to the peaks and admire the view.

There are rarely any larger wildlife passing through so for the most part, it’s quite safe, so long as you remember to bring water and check for lose rocks on the steeper sections of the trails. But now, in the near pitch-black darkness of night, you can’t even recognize the trail you’re on. So, why are you even out here?

Well, that would be because you’d started out in daylight, as usual, but then gotten involved in a search for another missing person in the hills, which had left you out there until well after nightfall. You had of course expected Casper to bring you home safe and sound, like he usually does no matter what’s going on around him. But unfortunately, on this occasion, the horse had lost its footing and fallen to the ground.

He’d gotten up without trouble, but since you’d no longer been on his back at that point, he’d gotten spooked, probably by the reins getting caught in his legs or something, and had taken off. You hope that he gets home without hurting himself, but you’re also quite angry with him for not recognizing your voice and staying by your side instead of running off on his own.

But your thoughts are disrupted by a creaking sound coming from behind you, a sound definitely not created by a tree. You stop, feeling a cold shiver move slowly down your spine, and you know that you’re in danger. You have no idea exactly what is watching you right now, but you know that something is.

You hear that same sound again, mere moments after the first, and even as you instinctively set off running, too panicked to even know if you’re still on the trail, your mind tries to work out what the hell that sound is. The winds are picking up, building towards the forecasted storm that has all the kids in town excited because of how perfect it is for the Halloween celebration, but it’s making it so much harder for you to hear if something’s chasing you.

Unable to stop yourself, you throw a look over your right shoulder, and a strangled scream escapes you when you catch a glimpse of something impossibly large and strangely shiny, and then just teeth. You try to run faster but you can’t. The dark world around you is a blur as you wait for those teeth to sink into your flesh and torture you to death. It seems to take so long.

And then it happens. You’re snagged to a stop so quickly that it makes your legs lift off the ground as they’re kicked forwards by the momentum. Something has your shoulder between its jaws, but that’s as much as you’re aware of before the world fades away and nothing exists anymore.

-=¤=-

You wake up on a bed in a room with a strange ceiling and stone walls. You’re groggy and only half awake, so it takes you a moment to realize that there are paintings covering the ceiling, making the stones look kind of fluid. Beautiful images of stormy seas and a red sunset flow across the domed shape, bringing it to life in a way that stone shouldn’t be capable of.

Then you remember, and bring your left hand up to examine your right shoulder, half expecting it to just not be there. But it is, and it feels fine. You sit up, relieved but also confused that there’s no pain, and as your bare feet hit the cold floors, your eyes are drawn to the rest of the room. It’s round and there’s a window in every direction, revealing the daylight outside, but also every detail inside.

The bed is easily large enough for two people, and the sheets and blankets are the softest you’ve ever felt. There’s a loveseat underneath one of the windows, with plush pillows leaned against the armrests. In the middle of the room is a carpet which you can tell just by looking at it, likely costs more than your house. And the curtains, four matching pairs, all a deep red, somehow seem both heavy and feathery light.

There’s a door to your left, and it’s standing open, so at least you’re not a prisoner. But you don’t feel like one regardless. All of this is so strange, because you’re sure that something bit you, but you can’t find any wounds in your skin. There are holes in your shirt, though. And where’s your jacket? Why are you barefoot?

You head for the door and find a winding staircase leading down, so this is apparently a tower. At the foot of the stairs is a corridor and then more stairs, twirling the other way this time, so you keep heading down, passing closed doors and empty spaces until you reach a pair of large double doors that are left wide open.

There’s a fire crackling inside and your cold feet and bare arms have left you shivering, so you head inside, finding the biggest open fireplace you’ve ever seen, in the other end of the huge room. It must be a ballroom or excessively large dining room, but it’s completely empty, save for a padded short stool in front of the fire.

You sit and warm yourself, trying to think back, to remember any details that might help you understand what’s happened to you, but nothing comes to mind. And then a movement to your right startles you to your feet.

“My apologies, miss. I have a habit of moving quietly,” a dark and low voice says, and when you locate the man who that voice belongs to, you’re momentarily stunned into silence.

He’s tall and broad, but quite lean, with a perfectly chiseled jaw and a beard trimmed to accentuate that. He wears no jewelry, but his dark green coat has golden threads and small embroideries on the cuffs and along the collar. Shapes too small for you to make out at ten feet of distance, but which from afar remind you of snakes. Still, it’s his eyes that rob your brain of most its function.

So dark, but also incredibly expressive. He’s curious, intrigued, but wary. As though you might pose a threat to him somehow, which seems impossible to you.

“W-… Where are my shoes?” you manage to croak, still unable to break away from his eyes.

“I took your shoes and your jacket to encourage you not to run away once you awoke. I’m afraid I am going to need you to remain here for the time being,” the man explains, and suddenly your brain wakes up in full.

“So, I’m your captive, is that what you’re telling me?”

“Yes, and no. You are my captive, as much as I am yours.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? I have no idea who you are,” you counter, getting angry because that’s all you can do to keep from panicking.

“My name is Oberyn, and this is my home. You’re welcome to explore as much as you like, but I would recommend staying away from the basement. Especially at night.”

“Why? Do you have more prisoners down there you don’t want me to set free?”

“Oh, there are cages down there, and many of them are occupied,” he says, while taking a few steps closer to you. “But I doubt that you would want to release any of the creatures that are locked inside.”

Creatures? What the hell does he mean by that? He’s only three feet away when he stops, just as the outside light catches his eyes at a different angle, and you can swear that you see something else within them. A bright golden shine seems to illuminate them from within for just a fraction of a second, as if reacting to the sun’s rays.

“The tower is yours. I will not venture there without your approval for the duration of your stay. But the rest of the castle is my domain, and you move through it at your own risk. Do you understand?” he asks, to which your anger flares.

“Understand? No… I really don’t. Who are you?! What is this place, where the hell am I?! There aren’t any castles anywhere near the seven hills! And what the hell was it that chased me last night, and why do I have bitemarks in my shirt but not on my skin? What the fuck is going on?!”

He lets you scream and rant without so much as a twitch bothering his mustache, and says nothing as you begin to pace in front of the fireplace, crossing your arms in silent defiance, but also an attempt to guard yourself against all this strangeness.

“You were bitten by a serpent,” he quietly says, just as you’re about to give up and leave the room.

“It was a lot bigger than any snake, and it had a lot more than two fangs,” you counter, all but spitting at him now, further angered by the notion that he might be trying to convince you that you imagined the whole thing.

“I didn’t say that it was a snake,” he replies, and you stop pacing.

“And what is a serpent if not a damned snake?” you challenge, but he seems unbothered.

“Is that all it can be? You must think broader than that, young one.”

His words make no sense to you. Serpent, snake, fucking danger noodle, it’s all the same. And “young one”? He’s at most five years older than you.

“Please, just tell me where we are?” you finally ask, deciding that there’s probably no point in trying to argue with this mystery man.

He looks at you for a good minute then, as if trying to decide if he should answer, and you notice that he doesn’t blink a lot, which is surprisingly unsettling.

“We are six hundred and nine miles from your home. Give or take a few dozen feet.”

That takes you a second to process.

“What!?” you almost scream, unable to take any more of this incomprehensible nonsense. “Do you honestly expect me to believe that you had a fucking helicopter hidden in the woods, or something?”

“Take a look outside the windows,” he calmly suggests. “I’m sure the snow on the ground will help you come to terms with the truth that you are no longer as far south as you think.”

Unwilling to take his word for it, you walk over to the nearest window, where the view makes your heart sink. Because he’s right. Not only are there several inches of snow covering everything in sight, but you also don’t recognize the landscape at all. And that’s when the realization of just how much trouble you’re in, finally dawns on you.

Turning away from the window, you now meet your captor’s eyes, for the first time with fear brimming within your own. Unable to stop yourself, you try to back away from him but there’s a wall in the way, so you start moving sideways instead, heading for the open double doors of the room. He doesn’t try to stop you, but just before you turn your back to him as you’re crossing the threshold, his expression turns incredibly sad.

You run through the halls, fully panicking now and having no idea where you’re even going. But then another set of large double doors are in front of you, so you grab the handle on one of them and pull it open. It’s the front entrance. You’re standing on the top ledge of another staircase, this one twisting off in both directions, leading down to a massive courtyard.

There’s a fountain in the shape of a rearing Pegasus in the middle, so big that the lilac shrubs which surrounds it barely even reach halfway up its hindlegs. And beyond that, is a giant garden of cherry trees and rhododendron hedges, in the middle of which, a wide driveway comes straight through, right up to the courtyard. A driveway that’s so long, you can’t even see the end of it, where it disappears into the surrounding woods.

You couldn’t run from here even with your shoes and jacket.

The freezing wind brushes over your exposed skin, making you shiver and wrap your arms around yourself while sorrow suddenly burns through you, bringing tears to your eyes. But then something soft and warm falls over your shoulders and you flinch, spinning on your heels and quickly backing away, further out onto the ledge to try and get away from him, which means stepping into the icy cold snow in just your skin.

“Please…” he says, and he sounds alluringly soft and inviting now, which only adds to your suspicions. “I have no intention of harming you.”

“Then how about you tell me what exactly your intention is?” you counter, barely able to keep your jaws from clattering with how badly you’ve started shaking.

He takes a deep breath and then slowly releases it, somehow looking sadder and more tired with each milliliter of air that escapes him.

“I just… I’m sorry. Please, come back inside before you get frostbite on your feet.”

“That’s n-not an answer,” you challenge, already trembling all over now.

“I know, this is why I’m sorry, but how is hurting yourself going to help the situation?” he wonders, and you have to concede that it doesn’t.

You huff once in defiance, and then step forward, allowing him to wrap the blanket around you. But you hadn’t expected him to sweep you up into his arms and carry you inside.

“Hey, I c-can still walk, p-put me down!”

“The floors are cold here. I will put you down once you’re in a room with a rug.”

“Or you c-could just give me b-back my shoes,” you gripe, and he hums in what sounds like a thoughtful manner to you, as if he’s conceding that maybe he was wrong to take them from you.

But he says nothing more, and as he carries you through the empty hallways, none of which look familiar to you because this place is apparently a damned maze, you steal a few closer glances at him. His skin is in better condition than yours ever has been, to the point where even his stubble looks soft. And his hair looks flawless. Not one strand of the curls on his head seems damaged or less bouncy than the rest. And the same goes for his beard and mustache.

His clothes are perfectly tailored, and they look new, but they don’t smell like it. Instead, the only smell you detect seems to be his, and it’s not at all unpleasant. Contrarily, the longer you smell him, the more inviting the scent becomes. You’re somewhat embarrassed to realize that you’ve stopped shivering with the warmth that spreads through you from within, just from that delicious scent.

The room that he finally turns into is small and smells of paper, reminiscent of the old bookstore in the city back home, run by a sweetheart of an old lady who also happens to be the grandmother of the missing woman who’s house you live in. She was the only one who’d come by with a housewarming gift after you’d moved in. That’s how sparsely populated your social circle is.

It looks to be an office, of sorts. There’s a fireplace here too, already lit and crackling warmly in the far corner of the room. To the left is a desk filled with scrolls of paper and what looks like old maps of countries you don’t recognize, and to the right are shelves filled with more scrolls, books and scraps of paper. There’s an armchair and a small sofa in front of the fire, and he sets you down on the sofa before kneeling in front of you to inspect your wet and freezing feet.

You’re about to argue that you’re perfectly capable of tending to your own extremities, but something about his touch stops you. His fingers seem warmer than they should be, almost feverishly so, but more than that, his skin feels like it’s giving off tiny electric impulses where it meets yours. And the feeling is highly intoxicating.

He quickly examines your feet and then sits back and looks up at you again, where a curious expression flashes across his features as he notices that you’re suddenly a bit out of it. He seems concerned at first, and then… is he blushing?

“If I get you your socks and your boots, will you promise me that you will not go running into the woods and getting yourself lost?” he asks, sternly holding your gaze while he looks for any traces of deception in your answer.

Except you don’t give any. Because you can’t make that promise. Not when you still don’t know why he’s brought you here or why he intends to keep you here.

“I don’t suppose it would make much difference if I told you that we are much too far away from any other people for you to make it there alive in winter?” he sighs, and he does seem genuinely worried that you won’t believe him.

“Actually, I do believe you on that part. I just also believe that dying while running for your freedom might be better than living in captivity,” you explain, and once again, something terribly sad comes over him.

“I really wish you could trust that I don’t intend to harm you, young one.”

“Why do you call me that? I can’t be that much younger than you.”

He chuckles drily at that, but it’s a sound of hopelessness rather than bemusement.

“If only that were true…” he says quietly, turning his gaze to the floor for a moment before he rises and leaves the room.

When he returns, only a few seconds later, he’s carrying your shoes and wool socks, both of which he appears to have cleaned, hands them to you and then steps back while you put them on. For a moment, you contemplate more questions, but the more you think about the strangeness of this whole situation, the more you just want to pretend that it’s a dream and that you’re gonna wake up and laugh at yourself any second now.

“The tower’s mine?” you find yourself asking, instead of any real questions.

“That whole wing is yours for as long as you’re here,” he nods.

“And how long might that be?”

“For now, I can’t say with any certainty, but hopefully no more than a few days.”

He does look genuinely apologetic as he says that, but you’re relieved to hear it. Somehow, you’d envisioned being a captive for years, locked away in that tower. But there’s something innately honest about this guy. You have no reason to trust anything he says, and yet you do.

“And what determines how long my stay ends up being?” you wonder, while rising from the sofa and daring yourself to take one step towards him.

He doesn’t react in any visible way to your truly minimal challenge, but you wonder if perhaps he likes that you don’t just accept your circumstances when they don’t feel right to you. There’s a little glimmer in his eyes that might just be a hint of awe.

“How long it takes me to figure out how you’re still alive,” he quietly answers, bringing you back to the severity of the moment.

Turning away from you, he reaches for an old-fashioned candlestick holder, lights the candle and then hands it to you.

“Living light reveals the path to the tower,” he says, as if that isn’t the most useless piece of information you’ve ever gotten, and then gestures to the open door.

Utterly confused, you step out into the dusky hallway, half expecting the wooden door to slam shut behind you, but it doesn’t. When you turn back to ask him which direction to turn, you find him right behind you, already showing you to the right with a gentlemanly open hand aiming that way. You nod your thanks and begin walking, still without a clue as to what the candle is meant to show you. Until it does.

Once the dancing light hits a certain wall, a faint glow appears in a thin line running along the wall, around waist-height. You follow it, seeing it fade away as soon as the flame isn’t directly in front of it, and before you know it, you’re back at those winding stairs. Walking back into the chamber at the top, you find that nothing’s moved since you left.

You walk around the room, examining everything more closely, finding two large and fully stocked bookcases hidden behind drapes on either side of the fireplace. There’s also a closet built into the wall next to the bed, and there are very old dresses hanging in there, covered with dust, making you wonder who the girl might’ve been that those clothes had originally belonged to.

Realizing that you haven’t asked your captor how to get food or how he intends to figure out how you’ve miraculously healed, you spend a few minutes pondering on whether you’ve got the energy to make the long walk back down to look for a kitchen and ask if you’re expected to come down from your tower at any specific times. But ultimately, you decide to leave it for now, picking out a book instead. You’re too stressed still to be able to eat anything anyway.

The book keeps you occupied for the entire afternoon, and it isn’t until it grows dark that you eventually close it and get up, intending to go looking for that kitchen. You’d left the candle holder in the window that faces the front of the castle, although you can’t see the courtyard from behind the main structure, but as you go to pick it up, a movement outside catches your eye.

Peering down towards the ground, you see a door swing open, and then something runs across the section of the yard that you can see. It’s so fast that you can’t be sure, but it looks like it could be what attacked you last night. And it looks like… a dragon. A dragon that just ran out of the same castle where you’re trapped.

Part 2

Thank you for reading! I had so much fun with this and I'm nowhere near done with it. Huge Thanks to @joelswritingmistress for inspiring me to take on Oberyn, I didn't think I ever would.

If anyone wishes to be notified when this story is updated, follow @sirowsky-stories and turn on notifications, or just ask nicely, and I'll tag you.

#PedroHalloween2023 #pedro pascal character fanfiction #oberyn martell fanfiction #oberyn martell x female reader #oberyn x reader #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones au #modern!au #halloween writing #sirowsky stories

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prettymuchteddy · 2 months

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Teddy's Masterlist

House of the Dragon/ASOIAF

Rhaenicent fanfics

A Targaryen Type of Madness (finished series)

Rhaenyra Targaryen always had a hint of madness in her, though it would take many years for its extent to be realized.

The Madness of Dragons (ongoing series)

After six years, the heirs of the Iron Throne have come out of hiding and want to reclaim their birthright. The dragons will dance as war breaks out between Queen and Heirs. Continuation of A Targaryen Type of Madness.

Last Christmas (on hiatus)

Last Christmas Alicent Hightower gave Rhaenyra Targaryen her heart, but the very next day everything fell apart. This year to save herself from tears, Alicent vows to avoid her at their family's Christmas vacation. Will Alicent keep her vow? Or will her heart be broken again?

Underneath the Veil of Hatred (finished series)

Princess Rhaenyra gives birth to a third child, a son with brown hair and dark eyes. The realm believes the child's true father to be the Princess' sworn sword, Harwin Strong. Queen Alicent Hightower orders to the child be brought to her.

Good Luck Egg (ongoing series)

Jace Targaryen was one of the eldest siblings of his two mothers and when he found out they would be having yet another child he was both excited and nervous. His baby brother, Egg, would have to navigate life through their crazy family so as any good brother would do he started creating video diaries to give him advice for the future. Based on Good Luck Charlie.

The Dance of the Dragon and the Tower (finished one shot)

The Queen appears in a shocking green dress and the Princess seems to feel a certain way about it.

We Always Burn (finished one shot)

Rhaenyra Targaryen is sure she knows what she wants until it comes crashing down after an encounter on the beach of Driftmark.

When the World is Ending (finished one shot)

In a post-Zombie Apocalyptic world, Rhaenyra ventures to find a compound and the one within it.

Aegon the 3rd x Jaehaera fanfics

Night Talks (finished one shot)

Jaehaera awakes to find her husband gone from their bed, she finds him and they share a moment where they believe just maybe things will be alright.

Just a Man (finished one shot)

When Aegon falters his queen is always there by his side.

A Small Piece (finished one shot)

Jaehaera wonders if her husband loves her, and his response surprises her.

A Question (finished one shot)

Jaehaera asks her husband a question that brings up old feelings.

Non-Pairing fics

The Bastard Boy of Dragonstone (ongoing series)

A boy from Dragonstone claims a dragon and to keep things hidden Viserys legitimatizes him as a Targaryen. However, no one knows who this boy is or what his intentions are.

A Welcome to Dorne (finished one shot)

Meria Martell greets Rhaenys Targaryen when she lands in Dorne.

Long Live the King (finished one shot)

King Viserys the 1st was found murdered in chambers, while there were many theories no one truly knows what occurred that dark night. Inspired by Murder on the Orient Express.

Mercy (finished one shot)

Daeron Targaryen receives news about his nephew Maelor from Bitterbridge.

Credit to @moonshine999 for the mood boards/dividers. Also, check out my AO3 :)

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waitineedaname · 8 months

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Greed was ten years old when he ran away for the first time. He got his ass kicked for that stunt, but that didn’t deter him. He’d gotten a taste of freedom, and he wanted more. He tried again when he was thirteen, and fourteen, and twice when he was fifteen. It wasn’t until he was sixteen that it finally stuck. He loaded all his worldly possessions into the back of a friend’s car under the dark of night, and he never looked back. He still wasn’t sure if he’d truly succeeded or if they had just given up on chasing after him. He was thirty-two now, and yet as he stood in his family’s driveway, he couldn’t help but feel like that ten year old again, awaiting the punishment that was sure to come.

homunculi family drama, modern au edition! this one is a bit shorter than the others, but boy does it have me Thinking about things

#fma #fmab #greed fma #lust fma #martel fma #father fma #pride envy wrath and bido all make appearances as well #surprisingly ling does NOT make an appearance for once #he is mentioned tho.#my writing #I have to work on a paper all day tomorrow so I wanted to post this now!!!!#lend me the power to work on a research paper by reading and commenting on my fic <3 #there were so many parts of this fic that I have been thinking about for Forever #the bit about him running away possessed me so bad I had to write it in my notes app before I forgot #the bit in the summary is the truncated version bc I didn't want the summary to be too long #fma modern au

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westerosoliviapope · 2 years

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Confession: Nymeria Sand is my favorite character in the Scandal Westeros Universe.

She leapt off the page from the beginning, which is why she's the first member of the Sphinx Consultants team that you meet in "It's Handled." On the surface, she's a fast talking, designer-clad hot girl. But as I wrote more, she showed up as observant, wise, and a fierce protector of those she loves.

And when I finally told her love story with Jennelyn Fowler? She knocked me off my feet. I knew she wouldn't have a typical "happily ever after" (few characters in this universe do, it's not my thing), but I LOVED the friendship, affection, and attraction between her and Jenn.

It was never about control for her. Her pleasure came from being a safe space for her tightly-wound friend to let go. She's never felt that overwhelming instinct to protect or care for another sexual partner. "Only you...only ever you" she'd promised Jenn and she meant it. She'll stick to the freedom of taking discipline going forward. Much less work that way.

Here are a few of my favorite #Scandal!Nymeria moments:

Recruiting Brienne to the Sphinx Consultants' Team:

“I enjoy foreplay as much as the next girl, Brienne, but I am not asking if you want the job because we both know you do. No matter what you say, you want more for yourself than busting your ass in the name of some Ken doll you diddle yourself to when you go home at night. So, Cinderella. You can keep scrubbing Renly’s floors hoping someone will make you the belle of the ball or you can let Fairy Godmother Sarella make you a warrior in a suit.”

When Sarella Catches Nym, Obara, and Jon Watching Prince Viserys' Sex Tape:

Nym, who actually has a bag of microwave popcorn in her lap, turns her head sideways to follow the action as the Prince guides Taena into another position. “No wonder he is such a slut. Slinging a cock like that is a community service.”

Giving Sansa a Pep Talk After the Team Fixes Her Divorce from Joffrey:

"In the next few years, your therapists and people you love will treat you like a victim. They mean well, but do not let them. "You married a brute who did horrific shit that you did not deserve—that is a fact. But it does not have to define the rest of your life. Do not let anyone make you feel small. Joffrey was small. You? Are a She-Wolf.”

Teasing the Wolf Out of Jon:

“I’m guessing you’re used to sliding your hands into some pink cotton blend travesty purchased at the mall while cuddling on the couch over pizza, beers, and a movie you’re pretending to watch, so I’ll warn you—before you get all worked up imagining you can handle me—that this...” she slowly runs a black stiletto nail up her thigh. “...isn’t that.”

Jon’s jaw clenches. It’s subtle, but she sees it. She’s hit a nerve.

Good.

Correcting Jon's Assumption About Where He Ranks for Her, All-Time

“Humph,” Nymeria pouts. “You are no fun.”

Feeling nature call, Jon rises from his seat and winks. “Nym, we both know I’m the most fun you’ve ever had.”

She squints. “That honor belongs to a pretty blonde in Skyreach but I will give you top five. Top two cock, for sure.”

Welcoming Brienne Back to the Team:

The click of stilettos accompanied by Nym greeting her with “Well, if it isn’t G.I. Jonquil?" in her patented Dornish drawl makes Brienne smile.

Her Role as the Big Sister:

When it comes to the general welfare of Oberyn’s older brood, four women from four mothers with distinct upbringings and issues to accompany them, Nymeria Sand is the keeper of the keys.

It’s her job to notice when Obara goes too many days without showering because occasionally, she has PTSD relapses from being waterboarded by a Qarthene drug lord.

To call Tyene and dish about their sexcapades to make sure she’s staying on the healthy side of her sadism fetish instead of taking out her rage and abandonment issues on her poor husband’s ass.

To note the dryness in Sarella’s normally flawless skin and the lines around her eyes as signs that she’s holding herself together with red wine, coffee, and 90 hour work weeks.

And if you think a former assassin and a Type A Domme are a lot to handle, try telling a know-it-all workaholic with a 154 IQ that she either needs to talk about her feelings or get a facial, get fucked into a coma, and get over it.

#dornesolstice #dorneuniverse #sand snakes week #nymeria sand #modern nymeria sand #scandal westeros #house martell #modern martells

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lilith-91 · 1 year

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I should have known the asoiaf fandom was beyond help when i said Rhaegar was an interesting character and book!tyrion was one of my favorite characters ever written and they were lambasted within my own circle, because "they are terrible person".

Since when a fictional character’s actions became an indicator as to whether we should find them interesting or not? some form of brain-deteriorating condition that causes people to enjoy characters based on morality and morality alone, i guess.

You'd expect fans of asoiaf would, of all people, know better. They don't.

Y'all, 90% of Game of Thrones/Asoiaf characters are terrible people or they committed atrocities. By the logic of this boring fandom, we are allowed to like only Ser Pounce, Tommen's cat.

It's funny because Tyrion and Rhaegar are not even close to be the worst characters in the series.

Jaime Lannister was happy to go to war (one he pretty much guaranteed by cucking his king for years and impregnating his royal sister three times) and kill thousands upon thousands of people to preserve his incestuous love affair with Cersei; he tries to murder a child, yet his arc becomes all about how he feels unfairly maligned.

Oberyn, an extremely popular character, beats a woman and steals her daughter, leading to said woman unaliving, and sleeps with a sixteen year old (no modern bias here? i heard that Rhaegar was a pedo). No, Oberyn is not Pedro Pascal.

Let's not talk about Robert, Gregor Clegane, Tywin, and Stannis. Meh even the Starks are not saints.

All these men… but RHAEGAR and TYRION is where you draw the line of who is acceptable to like?

If you wanna be insufferable at least be consistent.

#game of thrones #asoiaf #got #jaime lannister #tyrion lannister #rhaegar targaryen #robert baratheon #oberyn martell #i miss the old fandoms #things were more funny #with less double standards #modern bias in game of thrones doesn't make sense #read something else #a song of ice and fire

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martellspear · 3 months

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*ೃ༄ aren't you the greatest thing to ever exist? From a sweet friendship, love blossoms — [Elia x Ashara Modern!AU]

#elia martell #ashara dayne #elia x ashara #modern au #ashara x elia #asoiaf #asoiaf fanfiction #i'd love to say that i'm back but i'm really not

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bucknastysbabe · 2 years

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Oh look another subby Aegon fic, who would do that????

Anyways!

Rating: Explicit

Synopsis: A little prequel to how our lovely Uller met Aegon. Then made him cry with womanly power. He’s such a brat.

Tags: Super rich kids with nothing but loose ends, Dom!reader, dornish!reader, sub!Aegon, overstim, riding the dragon babyyyy, v!sex, alcohol/drug use, man tears of course, no beta we die like Aegon’s liver, crying during sex, AFAB!reader, what’s slow burn these two are way too horny for that

Burning matchstick quick

Ali had dragged you along to the social claiming, “These guys are rich and cute!” Rich and cute usually meant coke and assholes. Besides you’d heard the infamous Prince Aegon Targaryen would be here. As the Governor of Dorne’s daughter you would punch him out if possible.

He had a punchable face.

You wore a tight dress and impossibly high heels, decked in gold jewelry. Your childhood best friend, the princess, was similarly styled. She was already drawing looks with her easy smiles and sultry eyes. Aliandra flipped her hair effortlessly and pulled you along through the crowd and flashing lights. People grinded together around you, the smell of weed and booze heady in the air.

You were determined to break out of that nerdy shell from your younger years and make your mark in college. Most knew you as Governor Uller’s eldest daughter, the smart one, the dutiful one, the serious one. You’d get a fresh start at King’s Landing University.

Aliandra yelled into your ear, “I have a friend back here! He’s the President!” You rolled your eyes as a cocky looking blonde swaggered up. He declared, “Princess and sexy friend! Name’s Jason. Jason LANNISTER!” You weren’t sure why he needed to yell that but frankly weren’t surprised from his last name.

He wrapped arms around both of your shoulders, escorting you two past some pledges and a hallway. You tried to remain unfazed by the scene in the room at the end. Emphasis on the tried because you were watching the prince of Westeros snorting an obscene amount of blow. Ali babbled, “Holy shit! Let me in on that!”

You stared at the carbon copy of Jason and asked, “Can I get a drink?”

The twin chuckled and asked, “What’s your poison Uller? I try to be respectful and let chicks watch,” he jabbed a thumb to Jason, “unlike that asshole.” You leaned against the counter and rolled your eyes, huffing, “I guess I’m already famous. Just some white shit and a soda, Tyland.”

He grinned at you and poured up.

The manic prince bumped into you, glaring with blown pupils. He sneered, “Watch out! Fucking freshman.” Rage lit in your chest. Aliandra cackled, “Oh he’s going to get it.” You shoved him and hissed back.

“Watch out! Fucking drunk pricks.”

Aegon’s mouth opened dumbly for a long period, his cheeks flushing. He muttered something and grabbed a beer. Off he went down the hallway. You commented, “What a dick head…” Tyland shrugged, “Glad you gave it back to him— never seen the slayer that befuddled.”

Jason interjected with a high Ali hanging on his arm, “Nice one! The slayer is oh-for-three.”

“Why are you calling him that?”

The Lannisters simultaneously responded, “Record of fucking most freshman.”

You scoffed and suggested having shots instead of being more annoyed by the Targaryen’s presence. Shots flowed, you met new people, and ended up forcefully dragged by your best friend to dance. Aliandra laughed in glee, dancing on a her true crush, Addam. Jason awkwardly pouted nearby nursing a beer.

A body sidled up next to yours, you turning in surprise. Your stony eyes met the violet eyes of the prince. Aegon seemed to be sizing you up. You gave him a look and turned back around pointedly. Then a ringed hand curled around your waist, pulling you into his warm body. He’d better be careful or you were going to kick him. Totally did not want to ride his cock until he cried or anything.

“You’re hot for a stuck up rich girl,” he rasped into your ear. You swayed to the music, gritting your jaw at Aegon’s stupidity. He continued, “No really, I don’t usually go for the Dornish.” You gave him a look as if to ask ‘What the shit?’. He smiled with glassy eyes, too invested in your face. You tried to keep your eyes from darting to his dumb pretty lashes or full lips.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” you spat.

“And you’re a fucking bitch, what’s the hold up?”

This blonde asshole really had the gall. You didn’t mind it anymore, impulsively setting your mind on fucking the attitude out of the prince. You twisted around to wrap your arms around his shoulders. Aegon smirked down at you, grabbing a handful of your ass lecherously. His face fell when you teased, “I’ll show you a gods-damned bitch. Take me to the back, my prince.” A flicker of something passed over his face, but Aegon exited the dance floor, a hand tightly at the small of your back.

The brother room was empty, Aegon slapping off the light. You purred, “I think the couch will be a good spot, what say you?” Aegon nervously laughed, “Not the first time, sweetheart.” He was out of his element, you’d dealt with enough bluffing males surrounding your papa to know that.

You pushed Aegon down onto the ratty couch and straddled his waist in one fluid motion. He yelped and two palms instinctively held your waist. He stuttered, “F-fuck you’re forward.” You relished the fear in his widened violet orbs.

“You haven’t even seen the half of it, sweetheart.”

You gripped his chin in a rough embrace and claimed the prince’s full lips. He tried to fight back, locking you two in a battle of teeth and tongue. You licked into his mouth, moaning at his skilled tongue. Aegon hummed at that, nipping your bottom lip playfully.

You ignored his antics and massaged his tongue with your own gently. Lull him into complacency first, then shock the poor baby again. One of his hands stroked at your hair while you shared kisses with him. Aegon moaned low in his throat, shifting his hips minutely. Your lips danced against his almost perfectly. Almost too much so for the first time.

You pulled pack, a string of spit connecting your lips. Aegon groaned with a grimace, “What?” His dick was insistently making it’s presence known between your thighs. With a sharp grin you slowly grinded up, up, up against him. The prince gasped into a broken wet noise. His violet eyes were frantically darting around— overwhelmed.

You cooed into the shell of his ear, “What? Never had a chick fuck you right?”

He half-whispered, “O-of course. Fuck- do I look like?”

You nipped at his pierced ear, kissing your way to his pretty neck. Aegon had such pallid skin. You wanted to see it flush and purple under your teeth. Still rocking against the flustered prince in a filthy grind, you sucked bruises into his pulse point. Aegon’s hands gripped for dear life, whining and immediately biting his lip to stifle the noise.

You murmured, “I’m gonna ride you now.”

He nodded in a daze, red lips swollen from bites. You thumbed at a particularly dark hickey, enjoying the way Aegon writhed. His breath came in short pants, a flush high on his cheeks. Laying a hot kiss on the tender hollow of Aegon’s throat, lithe hands slid down his taut body.

He threw his head back petulantly as you undid his expensive belt. Aegon was at a loss for words, one second looking like he was going to curse you out, then the next as if the prince was going to sing your praises. Nothing resembling the common tongue slipped past his lips besides low moans and bitten off whimpers.

Your manicured hand eased Aegon’s flushed cock out of his underwear. Loud bass echoed on in the distance, only the sound of the prince’s and your breath intermingling. Your thumb rubbed around the crown of his leaking dick.

“Pretty. Like you.”

Aegon urged, “C’mon.”

His brows were cutely pulled together, sweat beginning to bead on his temples.

You used your off hand to hike up the skin-tight dress. Aegon muttered under his breath, staring at the neon thong. His hands reached towards your pussy, you slapping them away to his chagrin. You slid the flimsy piece of underwear to the side, laughing breathlessly as you eased the blonde in. His lashes fluttered and throat bobbed— helpless to the feeling of it all.

You placed your hands on his broad shoulders, starting a rough pace on Aegon’s cock. His face fell forward, rapid breath hitting your shoulder. Aegon whined, “The fuck…are you doing to me?” All you could do was smile and pet his silver hair, taking your pleasure.

He filled you up perfectly, snug against your ridged insides. You cried out softly when Aegon finally jerked his hips up in sloppy, stilted movements. The Targaryen babbled, “Ah- ah- oh gods don’t stop! You’re so good!” His constant moaning was leaving a damp spot of drool on your dress, the man completely undone.

You clenched onto his throbbing cock, sighing sweetly as the feeling of fullness. He was leaking so much pre you felt even slicker than usual. Aegon rutted frantically into your molten pussy, gasping and whining with scrunched eyes. Taken by ecstasy, your fingers squeezed his mottled throat.

Aegon cried out in rapture as his entire body shook. He grabbed hard enough at your flesh to bruise, high keening sounds deafening your hearing. He spilled into your pussy with hot ropes of cum, violet eyes rolling into his skull. You cruelly laughed, riding Aegon through his orgasm.

You growled, “C’mon give me another— m’not done slut.”

He shook his head and whimpered, “No, I can’t, s’too much.” You knew there was the short period you could coax out a more intense secondary release. A trembling hand rubbed at your clit, simultaneously mocking Aegon for cumming so quick. He begged for mercy, sweaty locks bouncing as the prince’s head bobbed.

You grabbed onto the pale hair, giving him a vicious yank. A low groan ripped from your throat, a heated flush running up the length of your body. Your skin prickled at the feeling and more noises poured unbidden from your lips. Aegon cried again, “Ahhh- pleaseee- it hurts!”

You hissed, “You want me to stop then?”

He wailed in frustration, teeth baring in the dark of the room. Aegon mewled, “Nonono, keeep going, fuuUCK!” He writhed underneath your flexing thighs, cramping with the intensity. Aegon’s cock was brought back to hardness, throbbing inside your pulsing cunt. A pang of white hot ecstasy sent another clenching ripple through your soaked core.

Violet eyes poured tears down his blotchy cheeks, Aegon drooling from the overstimulation. He chanted your name like a prayer, sobbing between each pained cry. He trembled while you laved a pointed tongue over his rapidly aching bruises. Your breath hitched when Aegon’s cock started to nudge against your sweet spot.

“That’s it, you got it, fuck me one last time,” you urged.

“Oh my gods I’m gonna cum again,” Aegon blubbered.

Your thighs slapped against his lap in a lazier pattern now, slipping into that final stage. Aegon’s sniveling and carrying on was music to your ears. You threw your hair back, breath resorted to staccato pants. Yanking the bratty prince’s pale curls one last time you seized up with a long, lewd cry.

Aegon wheezed like he’d been punched in the gut— slowly realizing he was spilling again. He let out a confused sob as more cum filled your swollen cunt. You cooed, “That’s it prince, good boy, good little boy.” Fat tears leaked down your skin, Aegon’s chest shaking with sobs. You didn’t expect him to react so…passionately.

Using a gentle press of your palm, you tilted Aegon’s crumpled face up. He sucked in a wet breath, red-rimmed eyes peering up to your dark orbs. You complimented, “You’re so pretty when you cry.” Licking up a salty tear sent the point across, the prince rasping a small reply, “Thanks.” He nuzzled into your body like a lost puppy— seeking protection.

Sliding out of him caused a gush of slick and cum to leak, Aegon moaning softly at the feeling. He whimpered into your tits, “Don’ leave.” Smiling softly and curling a possessive hand around his waist you replied, “I won’t. Only if you give me your number, dragon prince.”

#hotd fanfic #aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen x reader #house of the dragon #dom reader #dornish!reader #sub!aegon #Lannisters and Martell’s alert #college!au #modern!au #hotd smut

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thewingedwolf · 1 year

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im coming out as a jon snow/young griff shipper. if we have to go the “jon fucks a relative” route i want to go for the only fun route and that’s jon’s lil twink4twink ass finally finding a man who isn’t looking for a top and isn’t trying to kill him only for that man to be his half brother. go big or go home you cowards.

#valyrianscrolls #jon snow #aegon martell targaryen #young griff #rani makes text posts no one will read #george is a coward for not ever having gay incest. i said that shit and i MEAN IT #there’s literally not even a ship tag smh #im inventing a ship tag and it’s snowspear actually #this post brought to you by my delighted surprise when a fic i read went the aemond/aegon/helaena route as in the boys are fuckin as well #and no it’s not a modern au it’s canon divergence i fucjing love it aksjdjdj #people ship jon with every single female relative he has including one who is dead and one he hasn’t even met #but his brother who is the same age as him is out of the question. boring heterosexuals the lot of you.

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atrwriting · 1 year

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chapter seven: the wolf and the dragon -- modern!gangleader!aemond x modern!bartender!fem!reader

alright folks it finally gets ~kinda steamy~

as always, warnings: nsfw (but no smut -- it's coming!!), dubcon lapdance

after everyone had left, you kept on with closing activities. you weren’t sure where aemond and aegon went, and you weren’t sure when you would see them next. finally, the last task of the night, taking out the trash was upon you, and you headed out the same back door that aemond did about an hour prior.

you turned the corner, ready to fling the trash into the bin, when you spotted the moonlight catch a highlight of white hair.

you jumped and almost dropped the trash.

“you’re still here?” you demanded, surprised to see aemond.

he didn’t respond. he just stared off into the distance as he leaned against the bar’s outside wall with his arms folded. his gaze was absent, unlike the usual focused eyes that scared you to the core. your teeth sank into your bottom lip in worry.

you swallowed thickly. “you must be hungry. ready to take me up on food?”

“no,” he answered simply. “i need to think.”

you nodded as your brow furrowed. “do you… want to be alone?”

he turned to face you with a gaze that was now focused, and you shivered at the sight. his lips were in a thin, set line. his jaw was clenched and his cheekbones were catching the highlight of the moon. he looked through you in the same way his grandfather did, but with more intensity.

“believe it or not… you’re the least annoying person at this moment,” he spoke. “don’t change that.”

you sucked in a weary breath, unsure of how to proceed. “um... goodnight then, aemond.”

you turned to leave, ready to give him the time he seemed to need, but you felt his hand reach out and grasp you by the arm. you struggled in his hold, letting out a few gasps as you were caught off guard. you tried to push him away, but he was too fast and too sure of himself as he lead you away from the building.

“aemond — what —“

he brought you around to the side of the building where one motorcycle stood leaning on its kickstand. he grabbed the helmet off of the handlebar, and shoved it into you. you coughed as you caught it.

“get on,” he simply ordered.

you gripped the helmet, frozen in place, as words sputtered out of you. “where — are we —“

“i said get on,” he spat. “and i said i needed to think.”

you narrowed your eyes at him before tugging the helmet on. aemond swung a long leg over his seat before wrapping his large hands over the handles. with two twists of one wrist, the engine roared to life.

your breath caught in your throat at the sound. the way the engine purred was a sound unlike any other. you looked upon the beautiful piece of machinery and onto its owner. you shouldn’t have felt as thrilled as you did… but you couldn’t deny how much excitement flooded through your veins.

aemond’s shoulders were stretched to show the taut muscles of his upper back from under his shirt. you had looked upon aemond before, sure — but not like this. in this moment, you could see every ripple of muscle and strength as he sat where he appeared to love most.

“are you done staring?” he snapped.

you scrambled to get on the back of the seat. you weren’t sure where to place your hands, so you grabbed the handle on the back of the motorcycle. aemond groaned in annoyance. he reached behind him, and grabbed one of your arms. he wrapped it around himself, and held it right to him around his abdomen. an order.

your other arm followed without his help.

“hold on!” he warned, before rolling away from his parking spot.

* * *

aemond had brought you to a strip club, of all places.

“you know how to treat a lady,” you grumbled, walking into the back VIP room.

“we’re here on business,” he replied curtly.

“we?” you raised your eyebrow.

“yes, we, now be quiet.” he stated.

you followed aemond into the back room and saw a man already sat in one of the plush couches that faced another. the man, with salt and pepper hair and tanned skin, turned and smiled at you both.

“the dragon and the wolf!” he announced standing up. “ms. stark, i am pleased to make your acquaintance.”

you smiled from behind aemond, stepping around to shake the man’s hand. “it’s nice to meet you.”

who the fuck was this guy?

“don’t be rude, rhanas,” aemond quipped, gesturing to the man. “you should state your name when introducing yourself. y/n, this is rhanas martell.”

“nothing gets past this guy,” rhanas laughed, eyeing aemond. “so… let us sit.”

you followed behind aemond as he planted himself in the plushy couch. the room, decorated with darker colors and mood lighting, smelled of the latex from condoms, smoke, liquor, and all other forms of debauchery. you didn’t get out much from your own tame bar, so this change of scenery put a little pep in your step.

“so…” rhanas began, taking a large swig of his drink. “what do you offer?”

“fifteen percent,” aemond stated plainly, pouring his own drink and yours. “take it or leave it.”

you were unsure what they were talking about, so you simply sat between the two men. you did what aemond said and stayed quiet, and honestly you preferred it that way. looking the other way on shady business was one thing, but being literally in the middle of it? that was a completely different situation, and suddenly part of you realized aegon was right.

the dornish man threw his head back in laughter, part of his drink spilling on the couch. “for stolen auto parts? in this market? you must be joking.”

“i don’t joke."

a statement like that from aemond, if directed at you, would’ve made you stop and inhale sharply. rhanas? different story.

“no, but i do, young dragon,” his laughter was calmer now as a more serious tone crept into the conversation. “and since i do, i know a joke when i hear one. that offer is a fucking joke.”

you didn’t really know what to do. you sat with one leg over the other with an elbow up on the top of the couch. you clutched you drink as the man and aemond went back and forth, deciding on what fair really meant to the both of them. you clenched your jaw as the rest of your body froze.

“you stiffed me on the untaxed cigarette deal,” rhanas dismissed aemond. “it won’t happen again, especially not with something you need.”

“do not proceed to tell me what i need, martell,” aemond spat.

“oh, i will,” rhanas replied. “and you, my friend, are in desperate need of head.” rhanas then turned to you. “tell me, young wolf, you don’t blow him enough, do you?”

you choked on your drink before clapping a hand to your chest. with bewildered eyes, you demanded, “excuse me?!”

rhanas had a mischievous smile playing at his lips as he considered your abrupt reaction. he gestured between the two of you with a lazy movement of his jewelry clad hand. “you two are not… together?”

you shook your head. “we’re not.”

“martell-“ aemond began, but he was swiftly cut off.

“tell you what, dragon,” rhanas sat back, swirling his drink in his glass. “if you’re not fucking her, then i’ll take your shit deal if she strips for me and gives me a lap dance. in front of you.”

“now that’s a fucking joke,” you laughed incredulously.

rhanas' dark, sultry eyes flicked over to you then. you could feel aemond's own eye throwing a glare so hot into the side of your face that your body stiffened. with a wicked grin playing at his lips, rhanas asked, “you are in hospitality, no?”

"i am, and that means i'm well versed in the rules of hospitality," you quirked an eyebrow at him. "aemond was the one to pour my drink, and you think i’ll get in your lap the first time i meet you? you’re going to have to work a little harder than that, rhanas.”

you shot a quick glance towards aemond, but his usual confidence was not there. his lips were pursed in a way where he did not appear to know how to manipulate the situation to his liking. there was no rebuttal, no counteroffer, nothing — but there was every bit of anguish brewing in his eye as he glared at martell.

aemond had no back up plan, you realized. and he was desperate for this offer to work.

“you’re right, where are my manners, wolf?” he chuckled, sitting back. “aemond was the one to pour your drink, so he should be the one to get the lap dance. strip for him. i’ll watch. final offer.”

you stared at the man for a moment before you thickly swallowed. “i’m a bartender. you should pay one of the girls out there. i highly doubt i’ll put on a good show. you’d be wasting your time.”

“amateur porn is good too, no?” he poured himself another drink.

you gave aemond the time to respond, and still… nothing.

fucking hell, you thought.

“i keep my underwear on,” you bargained.

“for the amateur… sure,” he settled.

he thought you were cute and had little to offer, and frankly aemond owed you big time. fucking christ, what had you gotten yourself into?

you cast a quick look at aemond, who was still silent. his gaze was on you, and while he didn’t plead with you to perform, he didn’t exactly ask you not to perform for the man. you took that as a sign that it was a go.

you finished your drink, and knelt down on the floor on your knees. aemond opened his legs for you as he sat back on the couch, eye on you. his chest was rising broader with each breath, and you didn’t know how to feel. as you trailed your both sets of fingers up each leg slowly, you locked eyes with him.

business partners? you mouthed.

he gave a slight nod, still staring back at you.

alright, well…. time to give it your best shot.

you know you weren’t just giving a dance to aemond… you, and aemond, couldn’t afford you to be that much of a pair of amateurs. you had to make sure the dornish man was as close to creaming his pants as possible, and hopefully that would seal the deal and keep aemond in a good mood.

you crossed your arms and lifted your shirt slowly over your head. a basic, black t-shirt bra was underneath your shirt, nothing fancy. a little notice to the night's dress code would've been nice, you thought. you folded your hair to one side, exposing your back to rhanas, and stood to your feet. you kept your eyes on aemond’s eye the entire time, needing his strength to keep you level as you stripped for a man you’ve never met in your life and another man that made your blood boil. after your jeans were unbuttoned and unzipped, you slowly pulled the fabric down your legs. your plump ass was bending at the waist, perfect for the dornish man to ogle at. you stepped out of the pants that pooled at your ankles, and walked towards aemond.

you placed one hand on his shoulder as you bent forward, sticking your ass out once more. your cleavage was a mere few inches from his face, but he kept his eyes on yours. you weren’t sure if it was to show respect, or if he was honestly disgusted, but you needed a distraction from the atrocity that you were performing.

you trailed your fingers up from the top of his thigh, his stomach, and all the way to his broad chest. you climbed into his lap, and sat down on his muscular thighs. you spread your legs so each of your thighs was resting on one of aemond’s, sucking in a small breath as you did. you took both of aemond’s hands in yours, and rested them on your hips. you almost lost your balance, trying to keep yourself steady, but aemond held you in place and brought you forward and closer to him in his lap. the slightly abrupt motion put you right over his jean clad cock, already slightly hard.

your eyes widened at the feeling of your black lacey panties and his jeans being such minuscule barriers between his cock and your cunt. with being so close to him, it was harder for you both to maintain eye contact as you had once before. you witnessed his eye drifting between the nape of your neck, your lips, your eyes, your cleavage, and your skin as you rocked your hips into his.

you had to remember you were putting on a show for not only aemond, but the man behind you. you threw a hand in your hair, pulling at its roots, as you leaned your head back. aemond kept you firmly in place as you gripped his shoulder. you could feel aemond’s cock harden with each movement of your hips, and you would be lying to say the small humming coming from deep in your throat was only for the show. the lace of your panties and the rough fabric of his jeans was creating the most delicious friction on your clothed bud, and you needed more, but you needed to remember why you were here.

you stood up from your spot on aemond’s lap and turned in place so now you were facing the dornish man. you strategically stepped a foot away from aemond, keeping you equally distant away from each man. you kept your eyelids heavy over your eyes, fearful to catch him staring. you wouldn’t get the same strength from aemond’s eye and you were afraid of what would happen if you choked and suddenly the illusion of lust was gone. you could tell aemond was desperate to keep this deal, and you refused to fuck it up for him.

you bent slowly at the waist and leaned your ass towards aemond. you grabbed your tits, pushing them together and massaging them in your hands, and swung your hips slowly in a half circle. the muscles in the back of your legs were being pulled taut, an uncomfortable stretch, so you snapped back up and turned towards aemond once more. the other creep had seen enough.

this time, you sat on his lap backwards. with your hands rested on his knees, you slid your hips onto his cock and rocked against it. you smiled and bit your lip at the feeling of aemond’s impressive bulge nestled between your thighs and up against your throbbing cunt.

you pushed your hips into aemond once more before sitting up, your back pressed against his chest. with one hand firmly planted on the top of his thigh, helping you keep your balance, you grasped his palm in yours and placed his fingertips at the top of your lace panties.

aemond’s eye was burning into yours at this moment. your lips parted as your eyes softened on his. every bit of aemond looked as if he was restraining himself the best he could, but all you wanted to do was melt into him. with a small breath leaving your lips, you let his fingertips drag slowly up your stomach. with the intense eye contact that was shared between you and aemond, it felt like only you and him were in the room. your hand didn’t stop on one of your tits, no… you brought his hand up to your throat, and let it enclose around it. aemond’s eyes widened at the motion as he swallowed thickly, and you could only smile down at him devilishly.

“i’m a man of my word,” rhanas martell suddenly spoke, clearing his throat and standing up. “dance for fifteen percent. done.”

he buttoned his coat, averting his gaze, but a small smile played at his lips. like he saw something he wasn’t supposed to, or knew something that no one else did.

he turned and left towards the door, but not before he turned back to face the both of you. “and i’m locking this door behind me.”

and then he was gone.

aemond’s hand was still around your throat when you both met each other’s gaze after rhanas had left. you both were holding your breath throughout the entire ordeal, and when you were finally alone, suddenly you both had to take a giant breath at what just happened. however… aemond’s eyes never left yours, and his hand never left your throat.

“you got your deal,” you stated breathlessly, frozen in place. “you’re a good actor.”

“i wasn’t acting,” he spoke lowly, inches from your face. "and i don't believe you were, either, sweetheart."

---

tag list:

@hopebaker @iiamthehybrid @chainsawangel

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sirowsky-stories · 4 months

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The Old Prince

Part 10

Author's Note: I had hoped to post this on Friday, but a pesky work-weekend got in the way. Also, this was one of those chapters that never wanted to end! Which is why it's easily the biggest one yet.

Description: Your confrontation with Simon reveals some very big obstacles. (Sorry, it's a bit short, I don't wanna spoil anything.)

Rating: Mature 18+ONLY Warnings: Monster Oberyn Martell x Female Reader, AU fic, obviously Halloween themed, reader cusses. Smut. And a kinda weird situation occurring in relation to the smut. Word Count: 9862 Author's Masterlist

He reacts to the name as if he too remembers it, and somewhere deep within him, a rumbling which could rival even the toughest thunder starts to build. It’s so immense that the very air vibrates with it, and when he opens his jaws to release it, you can hardly believe what you’re seeing when actual lightning accompanies the flame of magmatic intensity, destroying trees and unnatural creatures alike everywhere it goes.

Then, just as your hope rekindles with the apparent shift of odds into your favor, the dying flames reveal that the spirits have finally arrived. But the reason for their tardiness becomes painfully obvious when you realize they’ve all been corrupted. No longer the lightly glowing figures of mystical energies, they now appear to be solid, straining under their own weight, looking as though something’s tried to rip them apart, leaving strangely thick black smoke pluming out of their open wounds.

Positioning themselves in a circle around the two of you, their new master commands them to destroy, and as if they’ve become puppets on strings, they obey without hesitation. The polar bear, Ursa, is supposed to be able to freeze things at will, but her powers have also been mutated, so when she tries to create frozen spikes, like spears out of the ground, what happens instead is that she cleaves the ground, creating massive crevasses from which more roots and evil beings spring.

Lupus normally channels the power of the earth to make things grow, and she still does, except there’s only darkness to feed. Only the destructive and malicious beings brought to life by the Darkling are aided by her efforts, doubling in size in mere seconds. Meanwhile, Caelum is generating multiple twisters where she would ordinarily only manage to spark sudden microbursts for a few minutes at a time. The butterfly is somehow creating toxic spores where she would usually just be able to pollinate anything that grows.

How Octopus is managing on land you have no idea, but she’s covering everything she touches with some kind of corrosive grey slime, which is especially bad considering the area she can affect with her size and the reach of her tentacles. The bat’s normal power is giving sight to those who wander in the dark, but she’s now creating clouds made of soot, removing all visibility wherever she flies. Although she’s struggling so badly against the forces of gravity, usually not able to affect her much at all, that she’s barely able to get off the ground.

Scarabaeus is supposed to be able to move through any solid structures, but her corrupted form is instead incapable of remaining solid at all, changing from liquid to gaseous form at random, which also has the very disturbing effect of leaving anything she passes through, completely disemboweled. As for the deer, Cervus, who’s original power is the absorption of both energy and matter, she seems to be in a state of continuous implosion, like a star perpetually about to collapse, sucking everything into its core to be crushed.

In your human form, you’ve never met the spirit of summer before, although you do know her from your other life. She’s easily the largest of the land-living spirits, rivalling Oberyn’s green dragon, although her current mass is much more concentrated than his was. Also, she wouldn’t normally have much mass at all. But tonight, her might has been transformed from a benign gigantic horse, capable of bringing warmth even to the coldest of places, into a burning demon, seemingly made of oil.

They attack without any coordination, or pre-determined plan of any kind, it seems, coming at Tyrannus from all angles at once. His size puts them at a disadvantage since only the flying ones can reach further up his body than his legs, but they’re unfortunately also highly tolerant to his flame, even with the lightning. His scales are thick, though, shielding him from their mutated powers, leaving him mostly concerned with keeping you out of their reach.

You know that even Lux has never witnessed all the spirits succumb to the dark one’s power before, because it’s never been allowed to get this far. But Simon’s clever deceit must’ve blinded them until it was already too late. Which begs the question: Why are you not turning dark as well? If the Darkling can have such a crippling effect on all the others, how is it you’re not feeling so much as a tingle in your fingertips?

It could be your connection to Oberyn, since love is still more powerful than anything, but the more you think about it, the more it seems like it’s your human form which shields you from his influence. Strangely, it makes a lot of sense. Because ordinary humans can’t see or be directly harmed by spirits, so logically, your alter ego should be impervious to his manipulation.

However, your body might not be safe from his powers or the spirits’ ability to cause you serious physical harm. You have demonstrated that you’re capable of incredible healing, but you don’t know how far that reaches. Even Oberyn isn’t completely immortal, so it stands to reason you might have a few limitations as well.

He moves incredibly fast despite his size, having lost none of his usual agility since his body is still the same snakelike shape. So, even though his enemies are repeatedly attacking him from all sides, he manages to evade them while striking both punches and flames at them, slowing them down if not seriously damaging them. Until Caelum manages to slip past his limbs and teeth, using one of her twisters as camouflage.

Staying in your blind spot, she sinks her claws into your back before you’ve had a chance to notice her, and aside from the fact that having your skin ripped open is always terribly painful, it seems that the black oily stuff which covers them all is also either poisonous or acidic when it enters your blood. Because holy fuck, does it sting. You’re already laying down as flat over the base of the dragon’s neck as you can manage, but the sharp, lasting pain makes you lose your grip just as Oberyn turns sharply to the left.

“Kaivalya!” you hear a thunderous roar exclaim while you’re falling through the air, which confuses you.

He can’t speak. Not as himself or as Tyrannus, his mouth and throat are incapable of forming words, so how did that just happen?

It doesn’t matter much anymore when you realize you’re falling much further than what should be ground level, which must mean you’re careering into one of the many crevasses Ursa’s made in her attempts to unbalance the dragon. Your front is facing up, so you can see the darkened sky as you continue to fall, until you drop far enough that the edges of the abyss come into view, crawling with roots and other malicious things, feeding off the conflict and the violence above.

Then suddenly, a bright white tail is breaking through the increasing darkness around you. It effortlessly breaks through the meager defenses put up by the wormlike appendages of this evil Earth, reaching you with such speed and forcefulness that it sends you hurtling upwards instead, as though you were a tennis ball and his tail the racket. And once you’re back above ground, easily reaching a thousand feet height at the crescent before you begin to fall back down, all three of the flying spirits are converging on you.

A twister forms right beside you, sucking you in and then spitting you out even higher up, before Vespertilio sends a cloud of absolute darkness around you. You know you’re far enough up that Oberyn has to fly to reach you, and if he was, his wings would create a thunderous sound as they beat against the air and the atmosphere, and you can’t hear anything like that. But you can hear the rapid, strained flaps of the bat’s wings as it struggles to get to you.

The darkness is so thick you can’t see your hands in front of your face, but you can feel that you’re once again falling and without seeing, you have no way of knowing how long it’ll take before you hit the ground. Can you survive a broken neck? You don’t know. Just like you don’t know what happens if you get torn to pieces by the spirits. You might simply revert to your spirit form, but then that would likely make you corruptible again. And maybe that’s exactly what Simon is after. Maybe all this is just about darkening you, because if he can do that, then there won’t be any more hope for the world.

A sound reaches you from somewhere below, and then a strong huff of warm air disperses the cloud underneath you, letting you see that you’re still hundreds of feet from the ground. But you also see a pair of bright blue eyes, which then quickly disappear from your view when the largest jaws ever to exist on this planet are opened wide, right beneath you.

“Trust me,” the same rumbling voice as before sounds, even though his mouth hasn’t moved.

But it’s him. Either inside your head or somehow speaking to you through the ether, but you know without a doubt it’s your Oberyn. And you do trust him. Which is why you let yourself fall forwards, straightening your arms out in front of you, turning your body into a spear so you’ll fall quicker. It’s not without fear you pass his rows of giant teeth, falling paralleled to his tongue and heading right for his throat, held perfectly straight to facilitate your journey into his stomach, but he must have a plan.

He closes his jaws in the same moment you reach the bottom of his mouth, and everything becomes pitch black. You can feel your body continue to fall, even as the walls of his throat begin to close around you, slowing your descent surprisingly gently. And before you know it, you’re at the bottom. Although, it’s not how you might’ve imagined a dragon’s stomach might look, if you’d ever had the crazy idea to imagine being swallowed by one.

There’s no fluid in there at all, to help break down your components and extract the nutrients from your body. And it’s anything but dark. Just like with humans, his stomach sits adjacent to his lungs, so when the fire is sparked, his entire torso is lit up internally. You can only see the shine, nothing of what else is actually inside of him, but it’s kinda beautiful.

There’s an intricate and very symmetrical network of veins within the lining of the stomach, and when the fire illuminates them, the heat within his blood makes them glow. And yet, the temperature inside remains unchanged. Probably around forty degrees Celsius, feverishly warm for a human, which is how Oberyn has always seemed to you. However, the sounds he makes are even louder in here, so when he suddenly roars, you’re instantly on your knees and doing your best to cover your ears, hoping your eardrums haven’t already burst.

“Stop!” you try to yell when it never seems to end, but you can’t even hear yourself over the deafening vibrations.

Apparently though, he can, because he immediately goes quiet, and then that deep voice finds you again.

“Are you alright, my lady?”

You must be hearing him inside your mind somehow, because even if you haven’t already gone deaf, your ears can’t possibly have recovered enough for you to hear normally yet.

“No!” you half-shriek, confirming at least partial damage to your auditory system because you can hardly hear your own voice. “Keep it down, you just blew my ears out!”

“Oh… My apologies. In my defense, I have never done this before.”

“No shit…”

-=<>=-=<>=-=<>=-

He knows you will be safe within him as this much older dragon ate only stone and magma to support his being when there was no other life on this world yet. It has no means of digesting human tissues and bones, nor the need for it. From the beginning of this battle, the spirits have aimed almost exclusively at you, leading him to the conclusion that Simon has no interest in him, merely in acquiring the last free spirit and completing the Darkling curse.

If this happens, the entire planet will become as the North American continent in a matter of minutes. All of it consumed by death, darkness and despair, with no hope or end in sight. And without Lux to bring back the sun, it will likely remain so for thousands of years. Tyrannus is too powerful even for all of them combined to vanquish, but Oberyn is equally unable to annihilate Simon while the spirits fight for him, so until the two of you can discover how to liberate The Decem from the dark one’s sickening grasp, the best he can do is keep you safe.

Gambling on the notion that these debased beings all seem unwilling to stray too far away from the group, he remains airborne after swallowing you, intent on leaving the scene as quickly as he can. Of course, Caelum, Vespertilio and Papilio do not approve of this plan, and follow as he departs due east, back towards the coast.

Their perverted powers are thrown recklessly in his path, the desperation to not disappoint their master now the single goal of their altered reality. But their quarry is not only much larger than before. He is also armored with scales so thick not even the pressure and heat of the planet’s core could undo him, leaving their mediocre displays of strength little more than an irritation to his ascent.

His theory about their tendency to remain with the group prove accurate when the three flying spirits veer off and return to the blackened landscape before he’s even left the American continent. This thought, however, offers him no peace. For they are stronger as a group, and the longer they remain so, they will fuel and feed the growing energies of hate and depravity until it eventually transforms them completely.

They are still only darkened versions of their original selves, but if Simon has his claws embedded within them for long enough, he will turn their hearts to stone, and then they shall truly become the monstrosities of men’s most feared nightmares. If this comes to pass, they will never again be returned to their former glory, no matter how much light you might shine upon them. And without them, the world will never truly recover.

He heads northeast across the Atlantic, flying fast and very high now that you are travelling safely hidden from the extreme temperatures and lack of oxygen. The sky is remarkably clear once he leaves the ashes and unnatural darkness of America behind, and he wishes that you could see the beauty of the world from the thermosphere, nine kilometers above the surface. As Lux, you probably have, but as a human, you never could.

And there is something truly beautiful within such fragility.

It doesn’t take long once he returns to the more familiar troposphere, before he is joined by yet more man-made flying machines, although this time, they wisely keep their distance and merely follow his journey, rather than attempt another confrontation. Oberyn is glad for this, because aside from the fact that he does not wish to harm them, they may also become most important to the survival of the world, as even their relatively small firepower could prove crucial within the larger picture of this war.

So, he makes no attempt to frighten them, flying calmly even as they dare a closer look. Despite their oxygen masks, he can see their eyes quite clearly, and when one of the pilots pulls up alongside him, he can see how she tries to measure him from nose-tip to tail-end, raising her eyebrows in disbelief at whatever number she settles on. He estimates roughly five hundred yards himself.

These are British RAF fighters, which must mean that word of his existence has spread since his latest encounter with such crafts. Although, they all probably think there are two dragons at this point, as there is little resemblance between Tyrannus and his comparably puny longtime green alter ego.

Whatever they believe is irrelevant. So long as he must not fight both humans and dark souls the world’s armies may create their own explanations for his presence. He requires only that they act to protect their lands, as even a small grenade lobbed at the spreading weeds of death will slow their advancement somewhat. For now, the darkness is contained on the North American continent, unable to spread further until the air and the oceans have also been sufficiently infected. But it is only a matter of time.

As he crosses over the British Isles, a warm updraft fills his wings, allowing him to soar effortlessly. Which is good since just one flap of his enormous wings will displace enough air to potentially create massive wind-shifts on the ground below. The warm air sits lower in the atmosphere, however, leaving him quite visible to anyone who happens to look high enough, and given the sudden changes in the sounds he can hear from down there, at least some people do spot him.

To that end, the fighter planes are no help, as their noisy engines easily draw people’s eyes upwards, but again, this is largely irrelevant. Unless the two of you can discover how to defeat Simon, these people will know of worse things than dragons soon enough. Dodging numerous commercial jets at various altitudes as he crosses directly above Manchester, Oberyn then leaves Great Britain behind, heading for the quieter skies of the Nordic countries.

The RAF apparently are not cleared to continue following him into Norwegian airspace, veering off well before he crosses over land again. For a moment, he amuses himself by imagining the communication between these pilots and Norwegian air traffic control, because he could picture how it must have sounded if they requested permission to continue following a dragon into Norway’s domain.

Once certain he is alone, he finds a nice large mountaintop with a solid flat surface and sets down as gently as he can to avoid kicking off a rockslide. You have been quiet since he accidentally broke your eardrums, and he hopes you will have healed already, but he worries that the injury might have nothing to do with your lack of interaction.

“Valya?” he prods, keeping his volume low, and he can feel how you begin to move inside of him.

“Yeah?” you reply, and you sound mostly tired.

“We are safe for now. Would you like to come out?”

“That depends… Would I be going back up, or continuing further down?”

“Up, of course, my dear.”

“Okay, just tell me what to do,” you sigh, but it is clear from your tone that you were only asking about the direction as a way of relieving tension.

“I would prefer not to regurgitate you, but if I lay my head down and keep my body standing, you should be able to crawl out on your own.”

“Alright, give it a try.”

He does as he has suggested, and then experience the peculiar sensation of what a human might compare to an ant trying to crawl out of their throat. It tickles, but not enough to cause him discomfort, and before long he can feel your footsteps pattering over his tongue and then climbing past the row of teeth on his lower jaw, before a muted thud lets him know you have hit the ground. Closing his mouth and raising his head enough that he can see the ground directly before him, he finds you brushing snow off your pants, and you appear unharmed.

“How are your ears?” he asks, and you stop moving to meet his eyes.

“Better. But how am I hearing you? Is this some kind of telepathy?”

“No, not quite. As I understand it, this is only possible between the two of us, and only because of the unique bond we now share.”

“Right. Which bond, though? I can think of at least two.”

“Love and Tyrannus?” he guesses, to which you nod, so he elaborates. “All these years, you’ve carried the white dragon within you, unknowingly becoming one with it, so familiar with its energy that you didn’t even realize it when you began to feed it to me. Because to your heart, there is no distinction. We are the beings you love, and we love you equally.”

“Do you feel different? I mean, like there’s two of you in there?”

“Tyrannus has not been alive for eons. He is only energy now. But I do feel some things so deeply engraved into his soul they cannot be erased. His anger… and his hope. Mere echoes now, and yet, so undeniably clear. He was truly mighty.”

“So are you, Oberyn,” you say softly, smiling slightly as you admire his new form, before you seem to will yourself to return to darker matters. “Unfortunately, we have less pleasant things to talk about, starting with where we are.”

“I believe it’s called the Scandes. The mountain range between Norway and Sweden.”

“Okay. And why are we here?”

“Because we need to think, and this place is quiet. This far north there’s hardly any air traffic and aside from the occasional hiker, not a lot of people. This time of year, it is a bit cold, but nothing I cannot shield you from. I have wandered these hills and mountains many times in my life, and they have always helped to soothe my worries.”

“I believe you. I feel calmer already. And it does seem prudent to steer clear of the States until we at least have a plan.”

You cross your arms over your waist but then remember that you are still wearing the same torn clothes as before, and this seems to deflate your energy somehow.

“So, can you still change back, or will all that,” you gesture to his general enormity, “not fit within the human form anymore?”

“It will. Although I am hesitant to leave us so vulnerable. My human form is still the weakest part of me.”

“And who’s gonna come after us here?”

“It is the threats one doesn’t see coming that are the most dangerous. But I see your point.”

Strangely, it feels exactly the same to return to this shape despite the extreme change he has undergone. The dragon folds away as fluently and easily as it always has. But it does throw him for a moment, to suddenly lose the higher perspective, and he hadn’t considered just how much better Tyrannus’ senses are. He feels almost blind at first, even though his own senses are still far superior to ordinary humans.

“Are you alright?” you ask, noticing his disorientation.

“Yes. Just slightly jarred. The difference in size is a bit befuddling at first.”

“I’m sure it is, but at least I can hug you now,” you say while closing the distance between you and wrapping your arms around him in a firm embrace.

“Oh, I have missed this,” he admits while he mirrors you, breathing in your scent once more and relishing in the feeling of your body pressed against his.

In that regard, there is no comparison. Nothing ever feels as good as your skin against his own, no matter how incredible the dragon’s senses are.

“It’s hard to believe it was still just this morning that we woke up together in your bed. I mean, we’ve been jumping between time zones, so the actual hours might be more, but it’s still the same date.”

“Indeed. How strange that everything seemed so simple then,” he observes, recalling the hours he spent watching you sleep, thinking of nothing but you and how you make him feel.

His entire world had fit into that bed in those precious, serene hours.

“Fucking Simon…” you growl after a minute, pulling away from him as your stress once again increases. “I can’t believe he manipulated all the spirits. I mean, I know they’re emotionally driven, but aren’t they supposed to have better instincts than to be fooled by a Darkling?”

“Well, no, actually,” he replies simply, to which you seem quite perplexed, so he continues. “The only way for any spirit to discern the presence of a Darkling is by the effect it has on the world. To find the being itself, only its capacity to see and interact with them is what provides them a definitive answer. They can immediately sense if darkness is tainting the world, and where, but they rely on evil to reveal itself, as it always does.”

“Wait… that would mean Simon must’ve understood more about them from the start than any other dark one before him, to let him use their blind spots against them like that. But I don’t get it. He said he’d been practicing, using his powers, honing them for a long time. How could he do that without them reacting to it, at some point?”

“How he knew about his powers I cannot fathom. No Darkling is born with this understanding. However, if he discovered a way to use them without allowing them to infect anything, then it is possible The Decem were unable to detect it.”

“Not even Caelum? She can’t just sense darkness in the air somehow?” you wonder, getting frustrated enough to start pacing around him, but remaining close since his warmth is all that shields you from the Nordic winter chill.

“No. Only if that power manages to dilute the air, as it now has over the American continent,” he answers, and you throw your arms out to the sides in a gesture which he interprets to be burgeoning anger at Simon’s apparent advantages.

He understands your feelings, especially since you cannot recall any of the details surrounding the spirits and their capabilities, but unfortunately, your foe is the very worst this world has to offer. As much as he wishes to shield you, he must also make sure you realize exactly what it is you are up against.

“I don’t know if you noticed, but the clouds there are no longer clouds, just dead spores and ashes, remnants of nature now reduced to particles of death. And once he gathers enough of them, he can send those clouds across the seas to infect other parts of the world. In time, his evil will turn all oceans into vast fields of mud and oil, impossible to travel over or through, filled with the same mutated monstrosities we saw over there. And eventually, the air will be so thick with these ashes that no sunlight will reach us anymore, at which point… salvation will no longer be possible.”

You stop pacing then, once more wrapping your arms around yourself as if the winds have sent a chill through you, despite the heat he radiates towards you. There is fear in your eyes as you are probably imagining the world his words are painting for you, but you bite it back, determined to find a solution.

“So, what can we do? How do we stop him? Because I doubt we can save the spirits without first freeing them from his darkness.”

“You are correct. Only the destruction of the Darkling will end his reign. Unfortunately, aside from the spirits, I know of nothing which can kill him,” he admits, but you are undeterred by this.

“You were there when they killed the last one, right?” you recall, to which he merely nods since he can guess where you are going with this. “So, how did they do it?”

Oberyn has avoided visiting the details of this memory for a very long time, but you are right to ask this question, as even though the spirits are not going to be able to help you this time, their methods might reveal some useful information.

“It happened nearly four millennia ago. He was a simple farmer, a good man by all accounts. Until a conflict in their settlement broke out and his wife and two children became the victims of circumstance.”

“The Darkling had a family?” you skeptically question.

“Unlike Simon, they are usually unaware of the evil within until something happens to them which is so painful that their souls are torn apart. This unleashes the darkness and forever destroys the person they once were. This man went from a loving husband and father to a vicious beast, holding nothing back and sparing no one from his rage. He turned the lands upon which he had lived from a jungle teeming with life, into a pit of death into which countless thousands of people and animals were pulled and tortured to death. He had no wish to corrupt them or turn them into evil beings, he merely wished for all things to die as painfully as anything can. Today, the place is known as the Lonar crater of southern India, but it was neither made by a meteor strike, nor as long ago as science estimates.”

“His evil created a crater?”

“When living things rooted to the ground are tainted with darkness, they spread it through the bedrock in search of other things to infect, which can lead to the collapse of entire mountains, given enough time.”

“How much time?” you ask, and he can see in your eyes that you are worried about how long it might take before Simon’s evil will create eternal scars upon the Earth.

“This Darkling reigned for three centuries before The Decem was able to stop him. And at that point, the entire European, Asian and African continents were covered in darkness.”

He gives you a minute with that, because it seems to affect you most severely, but the story is not yet over.

“I had no intention of joining the fight, as I could simply fly away from it, not wanting to realize that as it continued to spread, there would eventually be nowhere left to go. But in the end, it was not the understanding that the world was ending which convinced me to go back, but simply the thought that I would not be the worst monster among such things. That in their midst, I might actually appear… beautiful.”

You step closer to him then, unfolding your arms to place a gentle hand over his cheek. A silent reminder of how you see him, regardless of his form, and he takes a moment to lean into your touch.

“I was late to the party, however,” he continues then. “For a mere fortnight I battled the darkened vegetation at the heart of its outbreak, trying to carve a path to the man responsible, unaware that I was closely monitored by the spirits. At this point, only four of them had avoided getting caught by the darkness. Ursa, Papilio, Cervus and Equus.”

“The elements,” you observe. “Are they somehow stronger than the others?”

“Not stronger, but perhaps more resilient against corruption. Although, I don’t know why. In any case, my efforts eventually led them to the Darkling, and once they had access to him, he never stood a chance. He couldn’t see them coming, so when they all charged him together, he was immediately overpowered. Ursa impaled him with her icicles, and then each of them took one limb and one direction, pulling him apart, not at the joints, but at the weakened area at the center of his chest where the spears of ice had already broken his spine and sternum.”

“And that was it?”

“No, he was still alive afterwards, bleeding black goop into the soil which seemed to superpower the mutated vegetation. Roots the size of redwoods erupted from the ground, all aiming for the spirits, because so long as he was still alive, the Darkling could reassemble himself. But the elementals knew better. They had already abandoned the severed pieces, locating his heart instead. Not a lump of red flesh, but rather a small grey stone covered in coiled up vines.”

“So, his heart has to be destroyed before he’ll ever really be dead? How predictable.”

“Indeed. Had Scarabaeus been able to, she would’ve been the one to do it by simply passing through the stone, turning solid in the middle of it. But as she was already dead, Equus was the one who delivered the final blow,” Oberyn finishes, recalling the quaking bedrock in the aftermath of the horse’s powerful stomp.

He closes his eyes for a few seconds then, hoping you have not detected the sorrow which plagues him at the memory, for he knows not how to explain it. As much as he wishes to ensure you will be well informed of all aspects of your foe, he is leaving out one detail of this gruesome story. Which is that the man, the grieving human, had reemerged once his body had been broken and the darkness within him begun to pour out. In those final moments before his life had truly been ended, he was just a devastated father, as tortured and tormented as those whom he had killed.

Simon might be different, but he was not born with malicious intent. At some point, something must have happened to him to make him aware of his own darkness, and rather than fear it, he chose to embrace it. But before this, he was likely a normal human boy, with normal human feelings. Which means if you succeed in stopping him, he might revert to that being in the moments before his end, and if this should happen, you will be forced to watch that boy die in agony.

“Okay, dumb question maybe, but it still needs to be asked,” you sigh, while attempting to massage your own neck. “Can’t we just drop a small mountain on top of him, then? I mean, if all we need to do is crack his dead heart to pieces.”

“Unfortunately, that won’t work, because even if his body is damaged, he can heal it so long as his heart is intact.”

“And, let me guess: because it’s made of stone, the vines around it are enough to make it nearly indestructible from the outside?”

You read the answer in his eyes without him even changing his expression, and you let your head hang low for a minute while you try to think.

“You said that the other Darkling couldn’t detect the spirits. Is the same true for Simon?”

“Yes. But since you’re human, he will be able to detect you.”

“God damned it. Can’t we just catch one fucking break!” you end on a scream, turned away from him, sending your voice out over the mountain range where it echoes around for much longer than your ears can hear.

He steps closer and wraps his arms around your waist from behind, feeling you relax into his chest almost as if unaware of it yourself.

“How do we stand a chance without the spirits?” you ask, and in your voice, he can hear such pain.

Not for fear that you will suffer, if he knows you as well as he believes to, but for fear of how much the world will suffer in each moment you stand idle, unable to act because of the staggering lack of options.

“As Oberyn, I was able to carve a path for them through the death-lands. As Tyrannus, I am certain I can do the same for you, however powerful our foe might be. The question we face is not how to reach him, but how to get close enough to rip his heart out when he is protected by the mighty nine.”

For a long while, you stand silent within his embrace, although he feels certain he might be able to hear how hard you are thinking if he should focus well enough. Then, something moves through you. He can feel it, not because you actually move, but through a sudden and very distinct shift in your energy. No longer somber and despondent, you whirl around and take his hands, abruptly confident, as you appear to have uncovered something workable.

“I might be human, but I’m also light itself. And if there’s any reason I can think of to keep me separate from the other spirits, it must be because I’m their protector. My place in all this isn’t to fight the Darkling, it’s just to save them. That’s my purpose,” you animatedly explain, your eyes alight with understanding, while he remains uncertain.

“But… how can you? They are no longer spirits at all; their very essences have been destroyed.”

“No, I don’t believe that. Because if it was true, their mystical powers would’ve disappeared completely, but they haven’t, they’re just corrupted. I can bring them back, Oberyn. Don’t you see? My light heals me because that’s what it was always meant to do: heal spirits.”

Suddenly your confidence becomes infectious, as he realizes how much this all sounds true and right. There must be a reason for your detachment to the others, a reason behind the fact that not even the protectors of this world can recognize you, and this might well be it. But his hope is still stunted by one stubbornly persistent problem.

“Alright. Then I suppose all you need to do is figure out how to use it,” he says, and sees the optimism disappear from your frame as if an arctic wind has swept by and stolen it.

He takes a deep breath to re-center himself, reaching the conclusion that none of this is going to be solved right here and now. The world suffers while solutions evade you, but there is nothing to be done about that. If you rush in without a plan, one that actually has a fighting chance, you may well doom the earth to eternal darkness.

“Come, my love. You need new clothes, food and a night’s rest. There’s a village close by; we will go there to recover for now.”

You are not happy with this suggestion. He can see protests wanting to escape your mouth in the way you repeatedly search for the right words to voice your complaints. But in the end, you find none, allowing his reasoning to stand unchallenged. Backing away, he brings forth the ancient beast, once again slightly offset by the extreme shifts in perspectives and sensory input. You look so small as he offers you his front paw and then lifts you up to his shoulder.

Not wanting to scare people with a dramatic entrance, he decides to walk down the mountain, surprisingly well camouflaged against the snow and protruding rocks in the dark. But this does not prevent him from being spotted by a couple apparently living on the damned mountainside, where no one should have been able to build anything. Slightly shocked to suddenly hear voices beneath him, he stops, finding their house perched on an outcrop, seemingly without any road or lift leading up to it. How do they even get to the village for supplies?

They are understandably equally shocked to see him, merely standing paralyzed as he observes them for a few moments.

“Norwegians are unusual people,” he says to you in his mind, to which you chuckle.

“The Vikings wouldn’t have been nearly as successful in their conquests if they’d allowed terrain to stand in their way.”

He does not argue this point, as he has seen Vikings for himself and knows firsthand just how hardy and resilient they were. You are still several miles from the village at this point, so the couple will likely not cause any widespread panic. He leaves their home untouched, walking carefully past it so as not to trigger any avalanches, and when he reaches the little town down by the fjord, it looks perfectly calm and still.

Creeping as close as he dares, he doesn’t change back until he is just a few hundred yards from the closest houses, to keep the distance you will have to walk as short as possible since it takes so much more time. But no one seems to notice. It’s late, but the tourist center should still be open, and they often have emergency supplies for unfortunate travelers, such as clothes, in the event someone’s luggage is lost, and stores are closed. It is easy to find, sporting large flags on top of the single-story building, and it is still open.

“Hei, vhordan kan jeg hjelpe deg?” a tall blonde woman behind the reception greets when you approach her desk.

“Hi, we’re American,” you start, and the woman immediately repeats her greeting in English, which you politely thank her for before continuing. “As you can see, I’m in dire need of some new clothes. You wouldn’t happen to have some sweaters and jackets for sale, would you?”

“Certainly, follow me and I’ll show you where,” the receptionist smiles while getting up to assist you. “May I ask what happened?”

“Oh, that’s a long story and I’m very tired. Do you know if any hotel in town might have a room available?”

“There’s only one hotel here, but last I heard they weren’t fully booked for this week. It’s easy to find, just head down to the water and follow the road, you’ll see the signs.”

“Thank you,” you reply as you arrive in the gift shop area of the center, where there is an entire section devoted to equipping both humans and common pets to survive arctic weather.

You know your size and pick a thinner sweater along with a thicker jacket, to give you more options based on where in the world you and Oberyn might end up next. But as you are beginning to move back towards the receptionist’s desk, where the items must be paid, you lean closer to him and whisper.

“Uh, I’m assuming you have some way of paying for this, because I don’t.”

“Not to worry, darling. I never go anywhere without this,” he says, while pulling out a blank card from a concealed pocket in the side of his coat.

It connects to a bank account in the name of one Christopher Wilkins, who does not exist except on paper, but has a few million dollars all the same. Oberyn has twenty of these identities, all of which have similar accounts at dozens of different banks around the world, which all together adds up to over one billion dollars. He offers the card for payment and the purchase goes through without difficulty. You get changed in the bathroom before you leave the tourist center, walking towards the hotel hand in hand, when northern lights suddenly appear above you.

“Are you doing this, Valya?” he asks with a smile, knowing he is probably wrong but wanting to believe it could be true.

“If I am, it’s not by choice,” you sigh, looking up at the dancing green spectacle with awe. “I wish it were, though.”

The hotel is as easy to locate as the receptionist suggested, and you arrive to find the doors open despite the clock on the wall next to it reading nearly 11 pm. Only half of the thirty rooms are occupied, so he pays for a night in a larger suite even though the two of you do not require so much space. He just wants you to be comfortable, and the suite has a bathtub, which he feels might be needed to get you to relax.

The hotel uses old-fashioned keys for the rooms, so once inside, he drops them into a plastic bowl on a sideboard in the hall, and then immediately begins to work on the buttons of his coat. You hang up your new jacket, kick off your snowy wet boots, and head straight for the double bed to lay down.

“I feel like I could sleep for a week. But you’re probably not even tired.”

“Not like you, but I could do with a few hours. Adjusting to Tyrannus has taken a bit more effort than my usual transformation. Plus, we don’t know when we might get the chance to rest again.”

Shrugging off the coat, he hangs it up in the hallway closet and sits down on a stool helpfully placed beside the closet, to unlace his shoes.

“And what about food?” you inquire, turning your head towards him as you have undoubtedly not forgotten the green dragon’s appetite and likely draw the conclusion that the much larger white one must require much more.

“Strange though it may seem, aside from a rather unusual craving for pistachios, both my alter ego and I are perfectly fine,” he explains, momentarily wondering if the hotel restaurant might be open, and if he should go in search of some nuts.

However, once the moment passes, he feels only confused by his own hankering.

“But you haven’t eaten anything all day, and you’ve been fighting a lot.”

“Actually, I did eat some unfortunate bystanders in Detroit,” he recalls, which prompts you to sit up on the edge of the bed.

“Detroit was horrible. In every way. All those emergency responders… they died horrifically, and I just stood there,” you remember, and tears form in your eyes at the images which must be burning the insides of them. “I couldn’t do anything.”

“No, you could not have helped them. Those creatures may have been alone, untethered to the greater darkness, but that is also what made them so erratic and unpredictable, though still just as deadly.”

“Yeah…” you agree, turning your gaze down to your own hands, but then something seems to occur to you, as a crease bothers your brows. “But I made one of them stop.”

This surprises Oberyn, who is just about to stand having finished with his shoes, and instead remain still as he waits for you to elaborate.

“I yelled at it to stop, and it did. Just for a moment, and right before you came barreling onto the same street, but it stopped. And it looked angry about it.”

“As if it had been halted against its will?”

“That’s what it felt like, but I can’t be sure. Do you think I could’ve managed to command it somehow? Is that something Lux could do?”

“Possibly. The true power of Day is her ability to spread hope. If you were desperate enough, it is conceivable that you could have forced this creature to stop by using the sunlight as a physical barrier.”

“I can do that?”

“I should think so. You created an entire human being with it, I’d say you could definitely stop one little monster if you set your mind to it,” he winks at you, before getting up and moving towards the bathroom.

“If only I knew how the hell I do these things,” you say as he disappears into the tiled space and turns on the tap for the tub.

“You’ll figure it out, I have no doubts about that,” he replies while checking the temperature of the water, returning to the bedroom before he continues. “On a more positive note, the innocents I killed in Detroit will be the last innocents ever to fall victim to my beast. Nothing like that will ever happen again, because this dragon doesn’t need food of any kind.”

You have your head resting in your hands when he emerges from the bathroom, but you straighten out as you hear his words, and quietly trace his path over to the bed where he takes a seat beside you.

“Really? How can you be certain? You’ve only had it in you for a few hours.”

“Did you not notice the complete lack of stomach acid in there.”

“I did, but I figured maybe you had another stomach somewhere and I just wasn’t far enough through the system to be at any risk of digestion.”

“No there’s only one stomach, but this dragon stopped eating long before Lux changed him. And even when he did eat, it was at a time before organic life had evolved into actual creatures, so he fed only on magma and rocks. It’s what made him grow to such a size and develop those incredibly thick scales.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet. Who needs protein when you’ve got minerals.”

He smiles at you then, even though you are not trying to be amusing, delivering the phrase with sarcasm rather than joviality. You are too tired to enjoy yourself now, so instead of contesting your mildly snarky attitude, he sweeps you off the bed and into his arms in a swift and soft movement, returning to the bathroom where he puts you down in front of the just filled up tub.

“Are you trying to tell me I’m dirty without using any words?” you ask, still presenting the same general irritation, which is why he merely continues to smile warmly while he undresses you.

It takes only minutes for the hot water to begin relaxing you, while Oberyn gently helps you wash your back and shoulders, then your feet, before leaving you to just soak and warm your battered muscles while he steps over to the shower and rinses himself off. He is surprised to find that he has neglected to notice you leaving the tub, when your hands are suddenly returning the favor, rubbing liquid soap into his back. But he loves the feeling, having never experienced such care from a partner before, and remains still to let you work.

Before long, you are both clean from head to toe, which is when the caring touches change character, becoming craving instead. He brings you back to the bed without bothering to grab a towel on the way, abruptly needing you so badly he cannot wait long enough even for you to squeeze the bulk of the water from your hair.

Last night had been soft and tender, but when he enters you tonight, it is with fervency, perhaps even a streak of frenzy, giving you hardly any time to adjust before he is already working up a strong rhythm with firm snaps of his hips, making you jolt with each one. He feels strangely uncontrolled. Fully aware that such treatment could hurt you, but utterly unable to stop himself. Something drives his body which is not so simple a thing as lust. There is a deeper purpose at work, one he cannot discern, but remains a slave to for now.

You seem only pleased with him, though, showing no indication of distress or discomfort, meeting his forceful movements with an equally firm resistance, as if under the same spell he is. The need drives him so relentlessly that he reaches his peak in mere minutes, coming hard within the depths of your being, where he is so warmly received. But you do not follow.

As he stills above you, your body remains unsatisfied, which gives him a sickly feeling to his stomach, because however much he seeks his own pleasure, yours is the real price. But this entire copulation has felt off, which intensifies his disappointment with himself, so when he pulls back, seeking your eyes so that he might beg your forgiveness, he is more than ashamed of himself. He feels rotten.

The feeling leaps away, however, when shock takes its place as he sees your face. Your eyes are frozen, staring at nothing, and the tension in your body has given way to complete relaxation. Too complete.

“Valya?” he whispers, unable to bring any strength to his voice because what he sees within your eyes now is not life.

“Lux?” he tries, even weaker now, hoping merely your human form is lost to him, while the spirit remains.

Your own alter ego taking over, much as the dragon has done to him in the past. But there is no response from you. No breath. No pulse.

-=<>=-=<>=-=<>=-

You feel wonderful. Even when he pounds into you, all you experience is pleasure, wanting more no matter how good he makes you feel. The pressure builds and shifts, flowing through you at different intensities depending on your breaths, which muscles are tense and which nerves are most directly affected. It feels like flying through clouds of pure pleasure, devoid of thoughts or intentions.

And then it just… stops. You feel how he comes, and you’re just one moment away from following up with the best orgasm of your life when everything suddenly goes quiet and still. Not just around you, but in you. No more pleasure, no more heat or sweat or even the cold sensation of the sticky fabric underneath your head, drenched by the water from your hair.

Opening your eyes, you find yourself elsewhere. There’s no Oberyn, no bed, no hotel room. You’re not even sure there’s an Earth. But there is a presence. Nothing around you is identifiable, the best you can come up with is that it looks like something Jackson Pollock might’ve painted if someone had asked him what life on a gas-giant might look like. And yet, something here is familiar.

It’s neither light nor dark, and at the same time it’s both, but it’s almost like your eyes and brain aren’t designed to interpret what they’re seeing, so all you get is a colorful mess with the appearance of a flashlight slowly spinning around in the middle of it. Then you seem to blink, and suddenly you’re staring at yourself, as if there was a mirror in front of you. Only your reflection doesn’t move with you.

“Hello?” you try to say, but no sound comes out, leaving you wondering if you even have a mouth here.

That’s when you realize you aren’t breathing either, so wherever you are, this is a place outside of normal space. You wonder if it could be some form of heaven, although you don’t believe in that, but it also doesn’t seem like it would be. No, in your heart you know this is something else. Important to you, specifically.

Your reflection doesn’t move, but you feel certain it holds answers for you, so you try walking towards it. Your legs don’t seem to move at all, but you still glide closer to the other you, so perhaps all you need to do is think of the movement. When you get closer, her chest starts to glow, as if there’s a shining gem halfway between her throat and her breasts. Then she raises her hands to show you how they’ve started shining as well, right in the centers of the palms, getting brighter with each passing moment.

Eventually, the light becomes so bright you can’t see anything anymore, but your eyes remain open, unbothered by the complete whiteness. And that’s when you suddenly understand what this is. Why it happened in the middle of a moment of passion, you have no fucking clue, but given how important it is, you don’t linger on the inexplicable, taking the win instead.

Because you’ve finally found Lux. Somewhere within yourself, she connects you to this other place. Her world. Outside all other aspects of reality, by the looks of it, but clearly also able to interact with everything, everywhere. She made you, but at the same time, she is you, and here in her world, you’re able to see things the way she does. You understand the power of light and the ways in which you can bend it to your will, as if you’d done nothing else your whole life.

And once everything is clear to you, once you’ve unlocked all this knowledge she put in you from the start, the whiteness turns to dark, gravity returns, your lungs expand on reflex as oxygen once again exists, and you open your eyes to find that the darkness was just the insides of your own eyelids.

Surprisingly, though, it isn’t Oberyn’s face you look up at, but rather two very shocked paramedics, who despite their training, freeze when you come to. Apparently, you’ve been “dead” for a while.

“Oh… Well, this is awkward,” you say to try and relieve the tension, and then there’s a loud racket before Oberyn appears beside you, having risen so quickly his chair fell over.

He doesn’t speak, but his eyes scream of the pain he’s suffered in however long a time you’ve been unresponsive, so to ease his worries, you ignore the urgings of the medical staff for you to remain still, and sit up to hug him. He trembles like a leaf in your arms, holding you very tightly, before he reaches down behind you to pull the covers up over your bare shoulders. You hadn’t even reflected on the fact that you’re naked.

“What happened?” he finally asks, his voice sore with how hard he must’ve cried.

But you smile in return, so filled with hope now that not even his sorrow can dampen your spirits.

“You brought me to the light, honey,” you tell him, and his sadness gives way to confusion.

There’s no quick or easy way to explain what you’ve just experienced, so you settle for the most important part, which can’t be seen, only felt. You reach out and place one hand on the shoulder of the paramedic closest to you, locating the darkness in her heart without effort.

“Don’t worry about your father, Nora. He’s not going to hurt himself, he just needs you to stop and listen to his pain,” you say, feeling her father’s agony through the bond of love between them. “You always want to fix everything that hurts, but sometimes pain has a purpose. Let him tell you about it, and I promise you, he will be alright.”

The middle-aged woman looks at you as if you’ve just reached into her heart and given it a good twist, which in truth, you sort of have.

“H-… How do you kn-…?” she tries, but then sorrow rocks through her, stealing her voice.

To answer her, you let the hand at her shoulder channel the light from your own heart, and it glows for just a second as you pour hope into her being. Her sorrow immediately lessens, brightening her eyes and smoothing the tense lines around her mouth. You smile softly at her, and she nods in gratitude, even though she doesn’t understand what’s just happened, before starting to pack up their gear. Her colleague looks like one giant question mark, but apparently decides not to argue.

They leave a minute later, and Oberyn places a hand at your jaw, drawing your gaze back to him.

“I do not pretend to understand anything of what has just transpired here, but… you are ready now. Aren’t you? To fight.”

“I am,” you confirm. “I know what we need to do.”

“Does that mean we’re going back to America?”

“No,” you firmly state, finally without a shred of doubt within you. “It means we’re going everywhere else.”

Part 11

The Ten Spirits of the World Air - Forest - Water - Stone - Night - Autumn - Winter - Spring - Summer.

Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed it! If you wish to be notified when this story is updated, follow @sirowsky-stories and turn on notifications, or just ask nicely, and I'll tag you.

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boliv-jenta · 11 months

Text

Modern Oberyn Martell x f!reader

Modern Oberyn Masterlist

Summary: It suddenly feels like Oberyn is the one good thing in your life. Your brain doesn't take that too well.

Warnings: Smut. Self doubt.

WC:3.4k

Partner

See, I told you he needed a dick punch. I know.

That idea sounded more and more appealing as time went on. The more time you had to think, the more livid you became. Rage rolled inside you, clenching your fists and churning your stomach. Scott, the sleazy asshole from HR had called you into the bosses office. The version of events, that you knew he would tell everyone, the one where you were a crazy bitch, was what he had told your boss. It came down to 'he said, she said' so naturally you were out on your ear.

Reaching Oberyn's place, you were still incensed. By the time you had finished your account, so was Oberyn. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the kitchen counter. "Why didn't you tell me about what he did at the bar?!"

"I handled it. He's always an asshole so there was nothing to tell."

"If someone harms you, in any way, there's something to tell. I can't look after you if you hold things back from me."

"I didn't need looking after. I handled it."

"Yeah, real well." His words slapped you in the face causing you to recoil. "I'm sorry..." he stepped towards you.

Holding a hand up, you stepped away from him. "Don't." Snatching your bag off the counter you left to the sound of him calling your name.

Look after me?! What does he think I've been doing my entire adult life, with no help from anyone? Is that what he likes? Being the together one? He likes to pity me? Was that whole understanding big brother bit just for show? Between your brain's inability to shut the hell up and Oberyn's texts and missed calls, you barely slept. Deciding to take a very long shower, you threw on a playlist before slipping under the warm spray. The wet thinking box always helps. He came to pick you up at 2am. He cooks for you. He calls you everyday to check in with you. He always asks if we have time to talk when he does, time for him. He's insatiable in bed but always follows your lead. He never gives you more that you can handle. He's watched your comfort shows and movies because he wanted to know why you loved them. For once, your brain was talking a whole lot of sense. Oberyn was nothing but caring. He spent time truly getting to know you. He noticed the little things. For your birthday, only a few weeks into your relationship, he bought you a Sarah Sanderson Funko. "I saw she was missing from your shelf." He'd been in your room once. Once. Fuck.

Wrapping a towel around your wet body, you grabbed your phone. He answered on the third ring. "Hey. I'm glad you called..."

"..I'm sorry." You both spoke at the same time. Wow, you did the whole 'miscommunication that threatens to break you guys up' bit. Now, you're blurting out apologies in unison. Very Hallmark.

A nervous laughter bounced between you.

"I'm sorry for what I said. I was just angry at the bastards you work with. I get a little overprotective. I took my frustration out on you. There's no excuse for it but I wanted you to know the reason."

"It's okay. I called to say sorry for taking it too far. I know you were angry and frustrated and being bitchy, I just happened to be the one there to take the brunt of it. I should have stayed and talked. I know we lash out at the people closest to us, the ones we feel safe with. You know the old saying, about hurting the ones you love?"

"Yeah I know that one...and I do, you know?"

"Do what?"

"Love you."

"I..."

"I just wanted you to know. I thought I might lose you and I didn't know if I'd get the chance to say it. You don't have to say it, if you're not..."

"It's not that. I just...are you sure?"

"What?!"

"Are you sure you love me?"

"Yes, I am."

"Good. I love you, too."

"Good." He laughed warmly. "Can I come over and show you how much?"

"You'd better."

The towel you wore stayed wrapped around you until Oberyn pulled it off twenty minutes later. He muttered praise and affections against your breast as his lips and hands travelled them. Arriving at your nipples, he sucked one into his mouth while his fingers teased the other. He's so good at that. I love that about him. I love him.

"Penny for them?"

"Just thinking that I love you."

It was just that simple. You love him. He loves you. If that was the only thing going on in your life things would be great. Unfortunately for you, the whole 'needing a job to live' thing was killing the vibe.

Weeks passed, you had a few interviews but they didn't progress further.

"I'm doing some laundry. You wanna bring some over?" Oberyn offered one morning.

Yes, but you've been cooking for me, driving me to interviews, I can't let you do more from me.

"I'm not keeping score you know."

Easy there, Professor X.

"How do you do that?!"

"Do what?"

"Know what am thinking."

"I know you."

Simple. Oberyn had such unwavering honesty about him. If you were gorgeous and near perfect, you supposed you wouldn't have much to lie about either.

Months passed. The job market was a nightmare. Taking temp office jobs had not gone well. Apparently, 'temp' is code for 'person I can treat like shit/attempt to sexually harass.' Oberyn was doing all that he could, well, all that your pride would allow him to, to support you. Even with his help, you didn't have enough money to stop the eviction notice being posted through your door. Shit.

Oberyn was stood at the island in his kitchen when you walked into his apartment. The setting sun highlighted his profile as he turned to acknowledge you. Man, he was beautiful, even after all this time it still struck you. His hands worked deftly, cubing the potatoes on the board in front of him. There he goes, reading your mind again. Patatas Bravas would be the perfect comfort meal right now.

"How was your day? Find any more jobs you like the look of?" Bless him for thinking you were still looking for jobs you might like. At this point you would let someone flip you upside down to use you as a mop if they paid well enough.

"No. I was a little preoccupied."

"With what?"

"Being evicted."

"What? Are you that far behind with your rent? You told me you didn't need help paying it."

"I didn't...until I did."

"Why didn't you asked me for help?"

"You're my boyfriend, not my personal ATM."

"I'd like to think I'm more than your boyfriend. We're partners. We help each other."

Easy to say when you're not the one that needs all the help. "You're right but I can't expect you to pay your mortgage and my rent."

"So move in with me." Not even a question. A suggestion, said as simply as asking for the time. Move in with him? Give me a minute, I could probably give you a long list of reasons why that idea would be a really awful, terrible...."Yes."....oh we're listen to Heart today. Fine. I'll check out. See ya.

"Yes? You don't need more time to think? The offer will still be there."

"No, no thinking. Well, no overthinking. I want to move in with you. I love you."

"I love you, too. I'm not just asking you to move in to be practical. I want you here."

He wants you here. He doesn't just want to fuck you. He wants you, your company, your life intertwined with his. Squeal.

The first week at Oberyn's was weird. The gym was closed for a week, the sprinklers had been set off by accident and the whole place was a mess. He still had a few clients he went out to train but for the most part, he was home. His home. Your home. You went to sleep, he was there. You woke up, he was there. You showered, he was there. You ate, he was there. He was everywhere. In your pussy, in your mouth, in your ass. Okay! Yes, your sex life hadn't been affected. Your relationship hadn't really changed. You spent so much time together anyway. The only thing that had changed was you. This new phase in your relationship came with new anxieties. What if this was just a new hyperfixation? What would happen once the novelty of living together wore off? He was good man, he deserved the same love that he gave you returned. What if being with him all the time with no space of your own to retreat to overwhelmed you? The tangled of thoughts weaving their way around you reminded you of something.

"I need to pick up my medication." You moved to get your purse and head out.

"Oh, I didn't know you took any." Oberyn looked up from his recipe book. He'd be busy making notes on Post Its and sticking them to the pages filled with his handwritten recipes.

"It's a pretty recent thing. I used to find working out helped but it wasn't cutting it." Are we going to tell him?

"Help with what? Is there anything you want to talk about? You know you can tell me anything." He'd moved in front of you as he spoke, his large hands wrapping around yours.

"I know I can. I'm ADHD." Fuck, here were go...

"Oh?" He doesn't know what to say. He probably either doesn't know what it is or has all these stereotypes in his head. He won't see us the same now.

You prepared for the big explanation. "It's a neurodivergent condition..."

His hand came up to cup your face, his thumb soothed the skin of your cheek bone. His hands were always warm and soft. "I know. A few of my clients and personal trainers I knew were ADHD. I studied it to help them. You want me to drive you over there? You can tell me about how your ADHD presents on the way." Again, Oberyn made everything so simple. Tears welled in your eyes. This was how love was supposed to be. Simple. Honest.

This whole job thing was so frustrating. While you were bouncing from temp job to temp job, you weren't progressing in your career. You felt stuck, not great for you or your spiralling thoughts. It just took a gentle nudge to spin them out of control. After one spectacularly annoying day, with a boss that explained their requests poorly then got pissed that things weren't done exactly how they wanted, you made yourself a nest on Oberyn's plush, definitely not from Ikea, sofa. When Oberyn came home from a training session he found you angrily scrolling for something to watch. The shows whizzed by until he took the remote from your hand. "Hey, hey, hey, Mi Cielo. What is wrong?"

"I'm just sick of feeling like I can't do anything with my life. I'm just waiting to get control of it again. It's like everything has been taken out of my hands." You groaned.

Oberyn pressed the remote back into hands, a boyish grin on his face as he did so.

"Cute." He is. At least we have him.

Coming to sit next to he moved the pile of pillows and blankets out of his way.

"You know if you need some control." His voice was low and measured, he gave nothing away in his tone. "I can give you that."

His lips pressed a single kiss to your neck. "Tell me what you want." Oh. That kind of control. This is new.

It wasn't like you didn't do your fair share of pleasure giving in this relationship. Oberyn was just more naturally in control of things no matter who was receiving the pleasure. Even when you took him in your mouth and he was totally at the mercy of the pleasure you were bring him, he'd still seem to guide you. Pulling his hips back if he thought you were going to gag yourself by being over enthusiastic. Always checking in to see if you were okay. He told you himself he could be overprotective so you put it down to that. Looking at him now, he looked tired. His gaze was wary, his shoulders looked tense. Maybe being in control all the time, especially with all his new clients, needing him to push and encourage them, was taking a toll. Feeling bold you threaded your finger in his hair, pulling gently to tilt his head your way. "Do you need me to be in control, Oberyn?"

The way his body reacted was unmissable, his eyes darkened, his lips parted, sucking in air, his hips lifted slightly, drawing your attention to bulge in his sweatpants. Oh, I like this. Do it again.

"I want to sit on your face." Your tone was firm until your nerves and not wanting to do anything he didn't want to do got to you. "Can I?"

"You don't have to ask. You are in control." When you still looked unsure he added. "My safe word is 'persimmon'. I trust you to stop if I say it. Until then take whatever you need. I'm more than willing to give it to you." He ran your hand over the bulge in his sweatpants. Damn sweatpants are going to be the death of me. "Now tell me what you want."

"I want you naked. Take off your clothes." He complied slowly sliding his t-shirt off. It glided over every inch of golden muscle. His biceps tensed as he pulled it over his head. It was amazing how quickly this man could take you from one emotion to the other. The anger melted away to be replaced by a puddle in your panties. Next, he slipped those accursed sweatpants down his long, muscular legs. His erection slaps back against him. I never get tired of that.

"Sit down." Keeping the instructions simple, you tried to hide the quiver in your voice. The gasp that left you when he instantly complied was harder to hide. A thought crept in to ask him, well tell him, to do something that you love, that he's only done a couple of times and never fully for you. You wanted to watch him touch himself. You wanted to watch him touch himself like he did when was alone. You wanted to see that private moment, all on show for you. You wanted him vulnerable and open to you.

"Touch yourself. Make yourself feel good for me. I-I want to watch." Your voice squeaked and stuttered at the last part. Your thoughts stuttered as his tongue flattened against his palm, licking a strip up it. The warmth of his eyes was eclipsed by the darkness while he locked eyes with you. Fuck. I know what I want him to lick next.

Even with you in control Oberyn was still a commanding sight. You couldn't take your eyes of him as he wrapped his spit slicked hand around his hard length, running his fist up the length to squeeze the head. Lips parted in a gasp, he twisted his thumb and forefinger over the tip before dragging his fist back down to the base. He repeated the motion a few times until his chest heaved, his head was tilted back against the back of the sofa. The motion exposed his delicious neck. His expensive aftershave burned your taste buds as his pulse quickened under your tongue, in time with his strokes.

"Let me kiss you, please?" He almost whined the request.

"No, I have a better use for your pretty mouth. Lay down."

Keeping his eyes on yours, he turned to lay flat on his back. His eyes stayed on yours as you stripped off everything below the waist. Normally his gaze would still hold an impression of control. Today, it only held want and trust.

"I want you to keep touching yourself until you come. I want to see you make a mess of yourself. All for me." As you gave him your instructions, you settled down over his face.

The words 'Anything for you' were spoken against your hot core before he tongue came out to lap at the wetness he had already created.

He's always so good at that. I hope he thinks we're as good with our tongue. I…any negativity from your brain was silenced with a sharp suck of your clit. His pillowy lips sealed around the lit up nerves and sucked steadily. His hand kept a steady rhythm on his cock, a long drawn out figure of eight, with his hand dragged over the leaking head on each pass. His rhythm only changed when he felt you needed more. His head shook violently side to side, rapidly dragging his tongue over your sensitive clit. The closer you got to coming on his tongue the harder he jerked himself. Until, just as you orgasm was building from your toes, you thighs tensing either side of his head, his hips began to chase his fist. Just before you reached your peak from his talented tongue's attention, he came. His groan was muffled against you, the vibrations of it sent another wave of pleasure through you. Streams of his creamy cum burst from his thick cockhead as he worked himself through his orgasm. It landed on his toned abs, settling in the grooves between them. After your own orgasm subsided, you made your way to his side. He shot you a questioning look as you kneel by him. "Stay still." You ordered before running your tongue through his spend.

The action made him shiver. "Fuck."

Taking your time, you swirled your tongue through the rest of it. Savouring every drop as Oberyn watched you hum and moan. He was so taking by watching you enough his seed, he didn't realise what else you were doing until your whole body shuddered. His hand quickly came up to take yours. He guided your fingers to his mouth before rolling his tongue over them to savour the sweet of your second release.

"I'm sorry. You are in charge. I should have asked." His apology was backed up with gentle kisses while you arranged yourself next to/on top of him on the sofa. "How can I make it up to you?"

When I can think straight, I'll have a list for him. "I will think of a suitable punishment later." You yawned. "After a nap."

I may be half asleep but I didn't miss how his cock twitched at 'punishment'. We'll think about that later. God, he smells good. How can he smell so sexy and like home at the same time?

The veil of sleep soon settled you and your overactive brain. It was abruptly pulled from you by a loud knock at the door twenty minutes later. Oberyn stirred beneath you but seemed content to ignore the unexpected guest, until they knocked again. With a huff, he pulled on his sweatpants. "I'll get rid of them."

While Oberyn went to shoo away your visitor, you decided to slip your own sweatpants back on. A moment later you were thankful that you did. The sound of a very tense exchange at the door had you on your feet and running to Oberyn's side.

Two men stood at the door. Both in suits but that was just about their only similarity. One was young, early thirties-ish. He was well over six feet tall and muscularly built. The other man was older, in his sixties maybe? He was just a little shorter than Oberyn. His build was board, athletic. His well rounded stomach was in contrast to that. From the look of his wardrobe, you guess that the extra weight came from years of fine living. The watch on his wrist alone would have saved you from eviction and paid your rent for a year. Who is this guy? Why does he look so familiar? Oh, shit. We're really standing here commando, covered in cum for this. Hey, they're looking this way.

"....she's a friend." You caught as Oberyn looked at you. "Excuse me, I have to go speak with my father."

With that he closed the door behind him. Leaving you with only your spiralling thoughts for company.

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#pedro pascal character fanfiction #modern oberyn martell #modern oberyn martell x f!reader

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