#when i wanted to make content and had trouble giffing things

[northbndtrain]

Another day like every day.

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 5: What I Want

Summary: You begin your training with Ghost, but not everything goes as smoothly as you'd hoped. At least you're learning how to want things, and that it won't kill you if you ask for them.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader, some Ghost x Soap

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, oral sex, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, military inaccuracies, suggestive content, language, brief violence, reader has a breakdown

A/N: I know I was supposed to rest, but I couldn't help myself. I just had to get this one done. I was feeling it. We're finally getting into the good stuff here. Things will kind of pick up after this part, so I'm really looking forward for that.

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(Gif pulled from google)

You tug nervously at your sleeve, feeling exactly as you did when you had to sit in the director’s office at The Institute. Only, you never got in trouble there. You had never been summoned because you misbehaved. You made it a point not to get into trouble, avoiding it at all costs. 

You’ve been here just over a week and you’ve already messed up. 

Price is staring at you across his desk, leaning on his elbows as his blue eyes bore into you. You’re not staring at Price, you think. No, you’ve come face to face with The Captain. He’s angry, though you can’t be entirely sure. You’ve never seen him truly angry. You’re waiting on the reprimanding, the punishment, for him to tell you they’re sending you back because you’re too much trouble. 

“I want you to tell me exactly what happened.”

You flinch at his voice, half expecting him to start shouting but he sounds almost calm. There’s a strain to his voice, like he’s restraining himself. He’s doing it for your sake, you think. 

“Ghost and I were walking back from the mess when one of the alphas called out to me. He...he asked if I was going to go spread my legs for ‘that freak’ and he said he could offer me a better time.” You swallow thickly, Price’s shoulders tensing just slightly. “I don’t know what happened...I just suddenly felt so angry and it’s like I lost control of myself and I went up to him and he asked if I was gonna take him up on his offer and that he’d like to bend me over and stare at my sweet ass all night...and then I hit him, sir.” 

“Good.” 

You look up at Price in surprise at his answer, your eyes widening a bit. “S-sorry, sir?” 

“I have little tolerance for alphas that think it’s alright to speak crudely to omegas, especially those they were explicitly told to let be. You saved me a lot of paperwork today. Simon would have done a lot worse had you not gotten to him first.” He moves the papers on his desk aside, holding out his hand. “Let me see.” 

You stare at his hand for a moment before you realize he’s talking about your hand. You push your sleeve up, putting your hand in his. Your knuckles have swollen a bit and bruised, tender to the touch as he runs his thumb over them. 

“Simon told me you asked him to teach you to fight.” He says, closing his fingers around your hand. 

“Well, not so much fight, sir.” You say, staring at your hands. “Maybe just how to throw a decent punch.” 

“I’d say the one you threw today was at least half-decent. Corporal Allen is sporting quite the bruise on his face.” The corner of his lips lift in a smile. “You won’t have to worry about him anymore. He’ll be properly dealt with and they’ll all be receiving a lecture on proper base etiquette.” 

“So...am I in trouble, sir?” You ask, pulling your hand back slowly as he releases it. 

“No, you were simply defending yourself after Corporal Allen made a pass at you. Just don’t make it a habit of going around punching alphas.” He smiles. 

“I’ll try not to, sir.” You say, relieved that you weren’t about to get punished for your mistake. 

“Go on.” He nods towards the door. “I’m sure the boys are waiting for you.” 

“Thank you, sir.” You say, standing up from your chair, heading towards the door. 

Price leans back in his chair as the door closes, the sweet scent of caramel and strawberries still permeating his office. He breathes it in for a moment before pulling out his phone, scrolling through the contacts. 

“You’ll be delighted to hear our girl punched an alpha in the face today.” He says once the other line picks up. 

“She did what?” Laswell asks, genuine surprise in her tone. 

“One of the Corporals made a pass at her, and she left quite the bruise on his cheek. She’s turning into quite the spitfire.” 

“I told you she would fit right in. Underneath all that institute-taught BS there’s quite the personality. How is she settling in?” 

“She’s softening up to the betas already. Still a bit fidgety, but she’s found a way to get Simon to warm up to her.” 

“Oh? How so?” 

“She asked him to teach her to fight.” Price grins. 

Laswell chuckles. “I told you she’s smart. Just make sure he’s gentle with her.” 

“Don't worry, I reminded him to go easy on her. I think it will be good for both of them. Some forced proximity will be good for Simon and she’ll get to learn a few things that could be helpful.” 

“So long as she doesn’t go around trying to fight more alphas.” 

“She’s already promised not to. The Corporal got off easy. I can only imagine what Simon might have done to him.” 

“I’m glad to hear things are going well, John. I worry about her sometimes, but I know you boys will take good care of her.” 

“We’re doing our best.” 

“If you ever need anything, you know you can call.” 

“I know. I’ll keep you updated as her heat gets closer.” 

“Good. I’d hate to have to file that paperwork.” 

Price grimaces. “I know. I hope you don’t have to.” 

You’re tying your shoes as the knock sounds on the door. You’re not sure how they manage to do it, always seeming to catch you at the perfect moment. You’re glad Kate thought to get you some more active-wear type clothing, though perhaps she expected you’d be getting involved in their training or at least start a bit of your own once you arrived, just as she had thought to get you outdoorsy clothes too. 

You open the door, staring up at the hulking form of Ghost. 

“Come on.” He grunts, turning on his heel to walk down the hallway. 

You quickly close your door, hurrying after him. Not much has changed since your request for him to train you, though you didn’t really expect it to. Not at first, at least. You still have to prove yourself to him. Simply existing and getting involved in their lives would not be enough. 

He escorts you to the gym, a building you haven’t been in yet. There’s a few soldiers milling around, most of them in the weight room. There’s a pool across from the weight room, for more than just swimming, you think. Your father had talked about his own water survival training. You can only imagine the kind of water training they go through. 

Ghost leads you towards the back of the gym, unlocking a door near the exit. It’s set up not unlike a dojo, mats on the floor and punching bags and other training equipment along the walls. Ghost empties his pockets, setting his things on a bench before removing his sweatshirt. 

You can’t help but stare, only ever having seen him in long sleeves. His muscles bulge beneath his t-shirt, the first bit of skin revealed to you besides his neck, chin, and hands. Your eyes are drawn to his arms, taking in the sheer size of them. 

Tattoos. 

He has a sleeve of tattoos on his left arm. You have a desire to look at them closer, to trace each one but you wouldn’t dare. Not right now. You pull off your own sweatshirt, folding it and setting it on the bench, leaving you in just a t-shirt and your leggings. 

You fail in your attempt not to stare as he walks towards the center of the mat in his t-shirt and sweatpants, swallowing nervously. He turns to face you, motioning for you to approach with two of his fingers. Your face warms as you hurry onto the mat, coming to stand in front of him. 

“Let me see.” He says, holding out his hand. 

You stare at it for a moment before your brain catches up, and you put your right hand into his. You ignore the feeling of his fingers wrapping around your hand, lifting it so he can inspect your still bruised knuckles. 

“We’ll start with dodging.” He says, releasing your hand, taking a step back. “Let me see your stance.” 

You part your feet a little, bringing your fists up to your face. His shoulders shake in a quiet huff of a laugh as he stares at you. 

“You need to stagger your stance more.” He says, circling you. “Otherwise,” Hands push you from behind, and you nearly avoid face planting into the floor. “You’re too easy to knock over. The last thing you want is the fight to end up on the floor. You won’t be getting back up if you let your opponent overpower you that much. Again.” He motions to you. 

You set up your stance again, widening your feet just a bit. 

“Good.” He says, moving to stand in front of you. “These protect your face.” He says, hands wrapping around your wrists, raising your hands just a bit. “You get hit in the face...” 

“I won’t be getting back up.” You finish for him. 

You know most fights end up with both opponents on the ground. You’d watched your brothers wrestle and play fight enough to know that. You’re not here to learn how to win a fight, only how to protect yourself enough until you can find space to run. 

You barely have time to stumble back as his fist swings at you, nearly losing your footing. “Hey! You could warn me first.” 

“You think someone attacking you is going to warn you?” He asks. 

He has a point. 

“Use your legs.” He says as you set yourself up again. “Move side to side if you can instead of ducking under the punch, but if you have to, don’t let your eyes leave your opponent.” 

You see this punch coming, ducking to your right to avoid getting hit. 

“Good.” He says, repeating the motion with his left hand. “Stay focused.” 

You continue with the same motion a few times, already starting to feel a bit fatigued. Running is one thing, but strength is another. Most omegas aren’t naturally strong, nor are they inclined to increase their strength. That’s what alphas and their packs are for. It’s not unheard of, though, for omegas to increase their physical strength. Perhaps you’ll need to consider looking into doing that as well. 

Ghost takes a step back, letting you rest for a moment. You’re breathing heavily, though he’s hardly looking fatigued at all. He’s used to this, you remind yourself. He probably throws more punches in a day in the field than he’s thrown at you so far in 30 minutes. 

“Now, let’s make it a bit more realistic.” He says, a low rumble at the edge of his voice. 

A wave of scent hits you, your brain nearly short-circuiting. Fear pulses through you, ozone burning your nostrils. You stumble backwards, landing on your back on the mat. You’re breathing heavily, every cell in your body screaming at you to run or submit. 

“That’s...that’s n-not fair!” You say, your hands trembling from the adrenaline coursing through you. 

“Any alpha you fight is going to use every natural advantage they have over you.” Ghost says, stalking towards you. You can practically see it, the purebred alpha within him coming through. “You need to learn to protect yourself against them.” 

“That's...that’s not possible.” You say, the edge of a whine detectable in your tone. 

He kneels down over you, crowding into your space despite the souring of your scent. It doesn’t even seem to phase him as he forces you flat on your back, his hands coming to rest on either side of your head. You stare up at him, every fiber of your being screaming at you to bare your throat, submit, give in. 

Don’t back down. 

Don’t back down. 

You push past the fear, the instincts screaming at you as you drive your knee up into his stomach. He lets out a grunt but it doesn’t phase him, his hand wrapping around your leg, using his sheer strength to flip you onto your stomach under him. He presses against you, body folding over yours. You resist the urge, the instinct to press back into him, to be a good omega. 

“If an alpha gets you onto the floor...” He says, warm breath fanning your ear through his mask. “You won’t want to get back up.” 

His face presses against your neck as he inhales deeply before he pushes himself up, grabbing the back of your shirt and hauling you to your feet as well. You’re shaking, your heart thumping in your chest. Your head feels fuzzy, your brain buzzing a bit. Your omega is confused, poised to strike but she’s not sure against who. Ghost isn’t a threat, and you know that, but he had just proved how easily he could be. Any of them could be, with a simple scent change and their sheer strength. 

“Again.” He says, getting into a fighting stance. 

“You can’t expect me to fight after that.” You say, your voice breathless. 

“If you’re in a real fight, you won’t have much of a choice.” He says, the rumble still audible around his own voice. 

He’s right. If someone is attacking you, it’s likely going to be to kill, or to try and take you from them. Your omega shifts uncomfortably as you raise your shaking hands to guard your face. You continue to dodge punches, hitting the ground more and more as you continue to get tired. You’re going to be sore, still feeling your hike through the woods a bit. 

The door opens, giving you a moment to breathe. Soap enters, a grin on his face. 

“Ah, the wee lass is still breathin’.” He says, leaning against the wall. “Came tae make sure ye hadnae killed ‘er.” 

You can practically hear Ghost roll his eyes, his back turned to you as he says something to Soap. You can’t hear what it is, the ringing in your ears too loud. Your omega is still worked up, still poised to strike, more so now in your exhausted state. You push yourself off the floor, not having a moment to think things through before you’re throwing yourself at Ghost’s back. 

He turns before you hit him, catching you and flipping you onto your back on the mat. You hit hard, the breath forced from your lungs at the impact.

“Christ, Simon!” Soap shouts, hurrying to your side. “Ye tryin’ tae break her, ye numpty?” 

“Don’t do that again.” Ghost growls at you, stomping over to grab his things before leaving the room. 

“Easy, hen.” Soap soothes you as you gasp for air, his hand gently rubbing your shoulder. “Be over before ye know it.” 

Slowly the paralysis of your diaphragm begins to lessen, your stomach still aching but the air comes easier now. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to fight the tears. You’ve messed it up. One day and you’ve already done more damage than you would have had you not asked him to teach you to fight. 

“Don’ worry, hen. He’s just worked up, that's all.” Soap says, brushing a damp strand of hair from your forehead. 

“It’s his fault.” You murmur. 

“Maybe, but yer scent...surprised you didn’t notice, hen.” Soap wiggles his brows. 

Your face warms. You hadn’t noticed the uptick of muskiness in the room, the heady scent of arousal before now.

It’s not yours. 

“Me?” You ask, letting Soap help you into a seated position. 

Soap smirks. “It wasnae me that tented his breeks this time.” 

Your face warms even more, your body feeling like it might explode. 

“Come on, hen.” He says, slipping his hands under your arms to lift you to your feet. “There’s still time tae shower before breakfast.” 

“I can assume you know why you were called in here sooner than our normal weekly meeting time.” Dr. Keller says as you sit in her office. 

“Because I punched Corporal Allen.” You say with a wince. 

Dr. Keller nods. “Indeed. I just want to make sure you’re feeling alright, after that. Getting into an altercation with an alpha can be tough.” 

“I don’t think I’d call it an altercation.” You say quietly. 

“Maybe not,” She says, shuffling her papers. “But standing up to an alpha can be daunting.” 

“I wasn’t alone.” You shrug. “Ghost was there.” 

“I saw both yours and Lieutenant Riley’s account of what happened. I’m wondering, would you have confronted him if you were alone?” 

Her question makes you think for a moment. Would you have stopped? Would you have confronted him, much less punched him if you were alone, or even with one of the others? No, you likely would have ignored him and kept walking like you did with Gaz. You’d likely have gone straight to your room and cried a little out of embarrassment and disgust. 

“No, ma’am.” You say quietly. “I don’t think so.” 

Dr. Keller nods. “You’re aware of Lieutenant Riley’s status.” 

You nod, a frown pulling at your brows. How did she figure it out? “Yes, ma’am.” 

“I know because I have access to their medical records.” Dr. Keller says. “It’s required for statuses to be present in medical records since purebreds have to be treated differently, just as alphas, betas, and omegas have to be treated differently.” 

You do know that. You know that an injured alpha can get defensive if they feel cornered. You know omegas can die from stress if they’re not taken care of correctly. You know betas can get overwhelmed by large groups of injured people all in the same place without proper training to filter out the scents of agony and suffering. 

“I think you reacted to his scent.” Dr. Keller continues. “You mentioned feeling a sudden rush of uncontrollable anger. Do you remember smelling anything at that moment?” 

You nod. “Ozone.” 

She nods, the pieces beginning to come together in your own head. “I’m sure you’ve figured out how different purebred alpha’s are and how much more potent their scents are. Your own status makes you more susceptible to their scents and the changes in them. You were reacting to the change in his scent. Your omega sensed a threat, and took over for a moment to defend you. It’s a natural response in omegas towards those they see as protectors, or even packmates.” 

Your eyes widen a bit at her words. Ghost is technically your packmate. He’s an alpha in your pack, but you’ve never considered that you see him as anything but. He has defended you, and he had defended you not long before your altercation with Corporal Allen. Had your omega begun to cling to him out of a sheer need for protection after something like what happened in the mess? 

You would like Ghost to see you as more than just an omega in his pack, more than just Price’s omega. You know he’d never claim you, but you’d at least like to get onto friendly terms with him. Soap said it had taken proving himself before Ghost started to accept him. You’re hoping your time spent learning how to fight helps you prove yourself, that you’re not a threat or even a risk. That maybe you can be an acceptable omega for his pack. 

“Aside from this incident, how are you settling in? How are things going with your new pack?” 

“Fine, I guess.” You shrug, starting to pick at your sleeve again. “Ghost is teaching me to defend myself.”

“Oh? Does this have something to do with what happened with Corporal Allen? Or is there a different reason?” Dr. Keller asks. 

“I mean, partially that but also, Ghost, he’s...hard to get along with.” You grimace. “I know that in relationships, a good way to bond with people is to get into their hobbies so you have something in common. Ghost...ghost speaks in violence and I think it would help ease some of my fears if I can at least defend myself.” 

“I think this is a great idea. It allows for some bonding time between the two of you, and it can also be beneficial to ease your anxiety a bit. As long as you’re being careful and you don’t get hurt.” She says, giving you a pointed look. 

You think back to Ghost flipping you onto your back on the mat, narrowly missing getting hit, how he’d pinned you down using his own scent against you. “He’s being careful.” You say, clearing your throat. “Price would put him through the ringer if something happened. Even just as an accident.” 

“How are things going with Price?” She asks, writing something down. 

You shrug. “Fine. He involved me in some training this past weekend. We hiked out to a watchtower and the others tried to follow my scent. We got to spend some time together while we waited.” 

“Have you done much of that? Spending time together?” She asks. 

You shake your head. “Not really. He’s...busy. A lot.” 

“You should start making an effort to get to know him more.” Dr. Keller says. “It’ll make it easier once your heat hits if you’re familiar with him. Have you knelt for him yet?” 

You shake your head again, not wanting to answer out loud. 

“Why not?” She asks. 

“He still hasn’t asked me to.” You murmur. 

“Do you know why omegas kneel for their alphas?” She asks. 

You nod. “It’s good for our brains and bodies. It helps relax us and soothes our omega, makes it easier to process stressful events and can prevent stress related diseases later in life.” 

Dr. Keller nods. “Correct. It’s an important first step in building that bond between an alpha and an omega, when it’s done correctly.” 

Bad alphas can use kneeling to control omegas, put them in certain mindsets, make them more subservient. You know this, you’d heard stories from your fellow omegas after watching their parents. That’s not kneeling. You never had the heart to tell them it was so much worse. 

“Do you want to kneel for him?” She asks you. 

That word again. 

You do want to kneel for him. You’ve wanted to since this past Saturday in the watchtower. You’ve felt that urge, that drive to drop to your knees beside him and let yourself go, let him carry everything you’ve been feeling over the last week. 

You nod slowly, ripping one of the strings off your sleeve. You’re fighting the tears, fighting the emotions welling up inside you. You can feel them building, pushing against your stomach and your chest, threatening to burst right out of your skin and leave you nothing but an empty carcass. You’re breathing has picked up, shaking a bit as you inhale deeply. 

“Why haven’t you asked?” Dr. Keller asks, her brows furrowing as she stares at you. 

“I don’t know how!” The words tear from your lips, almost echoing as they bounce off the walls like projectiles. You haven’t so much as raised your voice in years, much less to a person of authority, but you can’t stop. The dam has been breached. “Everyone keeps asking me what I want, but I don’t know how to want!” Tears cascade down your cheeks, your breaths coming in sharp gasps. You cover your face with your hands, muffling your sobs. “I’m not supposed to want.” 

“Hey,” Dr. Keller’s voice is soft as she kneels in front of you, her hands trying to gently pry yours away from your face. “Who told you that?” 

“That’s what we’re taught!” You hiccup, letting her pull your hands from your face. The tears are still falling, lips trembling as you sob. “We’re supposed to be good omegas. Obedient and serve our alphas. We don’t want anything, we’re only supposed to give.” 

“Well that’s a load of bullshit if I’ve ever heard it.” 

Dr. Keller’s words shock you into reality, your sobs halting with a sharp inhale. You stare at her, the tears still spilling from your eyes. Your hands are closed into fists, your sore knuckles aching from the strain. 

“You’re an omega. It’s in your nature to want, to need. You can’t help your alpha if your own needs aren’t being met first. It’s okay to need things, to want things. Are there things you want?” 

“Softer blankets. Fluffier pillows. A nightlight. Something to put on my walls. Strawberry scented body wash. Some goddamn authentic Mexican food.” 

Dr. Keller chuckles lightly. “I can agree with you on that last one.” She squeezes your arms gently. “You’re allowed to ask for things. You’re not a soldier, and even they are allowed to have things of their own, comfort items, with them. It doesn’t have to be material things either that you ask for. I’m sure your pack would find a way to bend over backwards if you asked them.” 

She’s right. The book says omegas can hold great power over the members of their packs if they try. A mix of playing their instincts and the right behavior and temperament can have betas and alphas wrapped around your finger. The idea of having such control over four powerful men makes your head spin. 

“I want Soap to kiss me.” You blurt out, your face warming as you hastily wipe at your tears to hide. 

“Oh?” Dr. Keller’s eyebrows raise as she looks at you. “This is a new development.” 

“We...we almost did...a couple days ago.” You say, burying your face in your hands. “But I stopped it because I thought maybe Price...but then he said he didn’t care...” 

Dr. Keller gently wraps her hands around your wrists, lowering your hands. “It’s okay to want that, and it’s okay to want to kneel for Price. I bet he’d be delighted if you asked him. I bet he was waiting because he didn't think you were ready for it yet.”  

The calming beta scent washes over you, Dr. Keller projecting it to try and help you calm down. Your tears have stopped, your breathing starting to slow as the gentle almond scent goes straight to your brain. 

“I’d like us to still meet for our regularly scheduled appointment this week, but I’m giving you an assignment to complete between then and now.” Dr. Keller says. “I want you to ask one of the members of your pack for one thing that you want. You can pick what it is, and who you ask, but I want to hear about it when I see you later this week, understood?” 

You push back the nerves twisting in your stomach. “Yes, ma’am.” 

“Good.” She pushes herself up to stand. “You can stay here as long as you want. Just let me know when you’re ready to go back to the barracks. Take your time. You are my only patient.” 

She grabs the paperwork off the couch before moving to her desk. You watch her for a moment before letting your eyes wander. You wipe at your face, your cheeks feeling puffy from your tears. You’re glad she’s giving you time to relax. The last thing you needed was to run into a member of your pack like this. 

That’s not a conversation you want to have right now. 

You take deep breaths, letting the beta scent permeating the air calm you down. You sink down further into the chair, letting it surround you. It’s soft, the cushions pressing around you like a hug. You wonder how she managed to get it in the hard, “function-above-all” world of the military. You wonder how she got most things in her office, or maybe if she’d brought them with her. 

It was likely Kate’s doing, you think. The office space was made for an omega, set up to be as comforting as possible. Though, you don't doubt Dr. Keller would have argued her case for having these things fearlessly if she had to. 

You stay in her office for a while, listening to the clacking of her keyboard as the soothing beta scent washes over you. Your eyes are still burning a bit as you force yourself out of the chair, out of the soft comfort you could spend days wrapped in. 

“I’m ready to go now.” You say quietly. 

“Okay.” Dr. Keller says, finishing what she was typing before she stands, grabbing her keys. 

She locks the office behind you before you leave the medical center, pulling up your hood to protect you from the drizzling rain. You’re growing used to the perpetually grey skies and sudden rainstorms. 

Dr. Keller squeezes your arm gently as you stop at the door to the barracks. “Remember what I told you. I’ll see you in a few days, alright?” 

You nod. “Thank you.” 

She smiles softly. “You did good today. I am proud of you.” 

You slip into the door of the barracks as she makes her way back to the medical center, your shoes squeaking on the tile floors. You head back to your room, the silence in the barracks telling you they’re not back yet. 

You kick off your shoes, pulling your damp sweatshirt off as you sit on the edge of your bed. You stare at your ruined sleeve, the seam split to the edge of the cuff now. You got the sweatshirt from one of your fellow omegas at the institute, and you’ve worn it almost every day since. It’s turned a bit raggedy, and your picking at it hasn’t helped any. 

Ask for one thing that you want. 

It would be easy to ask for a new sweatshirt. You’re sure if you asked Gaz, he’d give you the one right off his back. Everything you can think to ask for, they’d have to buy. If you asked Soap, he’d likely commandeer the closest vehicle and drive straight to town and buy you one in every color, even if he didn’t have permission to. 

You could ask for something that’s not material. 

Warmth floods your face as you think about it. How would you even ask? You can’t just ask directly. You could, but you might die of embarrassment if anyone heard you. There’s nothing to really be embarrassed about, but you can’t help it. It’s a bold thing to ask for, and you’re not sure you’re feeling quite so bold today. 

You chew on your lip as the barrack door opens, their voices echoing down the hallway as they return from their morning training. They pass by your door, their own doors opening and closing. You get up, moving to stand in front of your own door, holding your breath. You could just step out, knock on his door and ask. He’s probably changing, though. You’d never get the words out if he thought it was one of the others and opened it half dressed. 

You have to do it, though, before you lose your nerve. If you don’t do it now, you’ll never do it and you’ll have to tell Dr. Keller that you failed. You’re allowed to want things. It’s your nature to want things. It’s human nature to want things. There’s nothing wrong with having needs and wants. 

You can want this. 

You repeat it over and over as you slowly open your door, letting it close behind you. You smell the air, finding the trail of his scent. It disappears down the hall and around the corner towards the rec room. Your legs feel shaky as you follow it, your stomach twisting anxiously. You can want this. It’s okay to want this. 

You turn the corner, finding him coming out of the rec room. He grins at you, eyes sparkling. 

You want this. 

“Hey, lass, was just lookin’ for ye. Are ye ready for lunch-” 

His words cut off as you grab his face, standing on your toes to press your lips against his. He makes a surprised sound against your lips, his body tensing. It’s quick, only a couple seconds before you’re releasing him, taking a big step back. Your eyes are wide with shock, almost as wide as his. His lips are parted in surprise still, his shoulders tensed. 

“Sorry.” You blurt out, your nerves only heightened. What if he hadn’t wanted it? “Sorry, I just...I wanted to do it and I wanted you to do it that day, but I’ve never had a real kiss before and I thought maybe Price would want to...but then he said he didn’t care-” 

Your words cut off as he grips your chin, lifting your face so you’re looking at him. The tension has melted from his shoulders, the surprise gone from his face. His eyes are soft as they stare down at you, his thumb brushing your lower lip. 

“I didnae know it was yer first kiss.” He says softly. “I wouldnae pushed it so far if I did.” 

“It wasn’t technically my first kiss, I kissed another omega at the institute but I don’t really count it cause I did it for her.” You shrug. “I’ve regretted pulling away since that day and Dr. Keller said I should start learning to want things and she gave me the assignment of asking for one thing that I want before I see her again at the end of the week and I could have just asked for something simple but-” 

Your words are cut off as he leans down, pressing his lips to yours again. It’s soft and sweet, his hand sliding from your chin to the back of your head, holding you against him. Your fingers grip his shirt, and you lift yourself onto your toes to press back against him as his lips move against yours. 

His forehead presses against yours as he pulls away, your breaths mingling as you continue to hold each other. “Gaz will be upset he missed out.” He says quietly, lips tugging up in a smile as he squeezes your waist. 

“He can kiss me later.” You say, pressing a quick kiss to his lips once more before pulling away. “After lunch.” 

Soap chuckles quietly, slipping his hand into yours. “After lunch.” 

You hesitate outside the door, shifting nervously on your feet. You could turn around and go back to bed, pretend like you hadn’t spent an hour convincing yourself to walk down here, like you haven’t been thinking about this all afternoon. You had already completed your assignment for the week. You’d kissed Soap, done something you wanted. You’ve fulfilled that desire, and it didn’t kill you. You hadn’t dropped dead afterward. If the others noticed, they didn’t say anything. 

This isn’t a want. 

You knock softly on the door, half tempted to turn and run and hide under your covers until you inevitably have to get up tomorrow. 

“Come in.” 

Your hand hesitates on the door handle for just a moment before you’re turning it, stepping into the office. He doesn’t look surprised to see you, though you suppose if nothing else, he had smelled you standing outside. The thought makes your cheeks warm in embarrassment. How long has he known you were standing out there? 

“What can I do for you, sweetheart?” He asks, setting down his pen. 

You shuffle nervously, clasping your hands in front of you. “I-I was wondering...I..um...” You take a deep breath. “I was wondering if I could kneel for you.” 

You bite your lip as he stares at you, the words having come out fast, almost meshing into one long string of nonsense. His eyes darken just a bit, his scent thickening in the air. 

“You want to kneel for me, sweetheart?” He asks, his voice low and rough. 

You nod, shifting your weight again. “Yes, sir.” 

“Grab a pillow.” He nods to the couch. “I won’t have you hurting yourself.” 

You grab one of the pillows from the couch, wondering how often he’s slept in his office. How many nights he’s spent awake, pouring over files, his mind working too hard for him to find any rest. You set the pillow on the floor before kneeling down next to him, facing his desk. You shift until you’re comfortable, sitting back on your feet. You let out a long breath as your eyes slipped closed, your fingers twitching anxiously in your lap. 

Price’s hand is gentle as it comes to rest on the top of your head. You relax into his touch as he strokes your hair, working his way down towards your neck. You force your mind to relax, easing away the desire to tense your shoulders, to draw them up around your ears. It’s pure natural instinct, one that will fade the more you practice, the more you bond with him. The more you trust him. 

“Ready?” He asks, his voice sounding far away despite the fact you’re right next to him. 

“Yes, sir.” You murmur, pressing your head into his hand. 

His hand slips lower, curling around the back of your neck. You inhale sharply as he finally makes contact with the sensitive area. His hand is warm, the tension slowly easing from your body as he presses his thumb lightly into the side of your neck. The back of your brain begins to buzz, your mind slowly filling with static. You relax even further, your head bowing just slightly as you feel the weight of the last three months lifting off your shoulders. 

All the emotions, all the fear, all the unknowns suddenly feel far away. All the apprehension and the anxiety are soothed to nothing as he holds you, the hand on your neck a firm reminder that you’re not alone in this anymore. You have an alpha now, a strong alpha that you can trust in, that will carry it all for you. 

You don’t need to be stressed or afraid anymore. A warmth begins blossoming within you, spreading from your core out to your fingers and toes. You feel a bit dazed, but not in a bad way. You’re not afraid of the feeling, not with your alpha’s hand around the back of your neck keeping you safe. 

You’re not sure how much time passes, how long you kneel there. It could be five minutes, it could be two hours. Price continues to go over his paperwork, his other hand steady on the back of your neck. It’s not until he’s done that he carefully pushes his seat back, kneeling on the floor next to you. He releases your neck, catching your body as it slumps over, drawing you against his chest. 

“Easy, sweet girl.” He murmurs, pressing your face into his neck. 

You’re shaking a bit, brain still dazed and flying as you breathe in his scent. Earthy, trees, petrichor. The warm muskiness of a content alpha. You made him smell like that. You invoked that scent. 

“Feeling alright?” He murmurs into your hair, gently stroking your side as you begin to come back into your body. 

You hum in affirmation, wrapping your arms around his neck. You haven’t been this close to him yet, not since the scenting and that was more of a formal closeness, a required closeness. This is because you want it. 

“Don’t let me go.” You murmur into his neck, clinging to him tightly. 

His arms tighten around you for a moment before he slips them under you, lifting you into his arms easily. He pushes himself from the floor, moving to sit on the couch with you on his lap. You let yourself go lax in his hold again, feeling calmer and more relaxed than you have in months. You feel safe in his arms, not that he would have let anything happen to you before. 

You’ve always been safe, you think as you let your eyes drift closed again. 

The water is hot as it runs down his back, contrasting the cool tile against his forehead. His eyes are closed, breaths slow and steady through his nose. He can’t get that damn scent of vanilla and sweet, sweet omega arousal out of his head. He drives his fist into the wall with a growl, cursing the blood rushing south. 

He can’t forget the way you felt under him, pinned so easily and helpless beneath him. He hates the way his cock twitches at the thought of the pout on your lips as he’d swung at you, narrowly missing you too many times. The way you tried to jump him. 

He lets out another frustrated growl, slamming his forehead into the tile. A hand presses against his bare back and he turns on his heel, hand wrapping around Johnny’s throat, slamming him back against the shower wall. 

Jesus Christ, he’s going to kill the mutt one of these days. 

“Easy, Lt.” Johnny rasps, not fazed at all by the alpha’s actions. His eyes flicker lower, to the hard cock standing at attention. “Bit worked up, eh?” 

He lets Johnny go with a growl, stepping back under the water, turning it all the way to the right until it’s nearly freezing. He almost groans in frustration as the water shuts off completely, his eyes cracking open as Johnny’s hand trails up his chest. 

“Easy, big guy. Let me help ye.” 

Simon moves until his back is pressed against the tiles, eyes not leaving Johnny’s sapphire ones as the beta slowly kneels in front of him. Johnny’s hands trace over his hips, outlining scars both old and new. Johnny’s fingers finally reach his cock, wrapping around the thick length. Simon sighs in quiet relief as Johnny slowly pumps his length, their gazes still locked. 

Simon stares down at Johnny through his blonde lashes as Johnny leans forward, dragging his tongue along his head. A low growl rumbles through his chest as the beta circles his tongue around his head, smearing precum on his chin. He’s painfully hard now, breaking his gaze as his head tilts back, eyes fluttering closed. 

His fingers sink into Johnny’s mohawk as the beta takes his cock in his mouth. He breathes through his nose, relaxing his throat as Simon’s cock sinks deeper and deeper, Johnny’s hands closing around his hips to hold himself steady. Simon grips his hair tightly as he begins to move, bobbing his head along his length, his tongue pressing against the bottom of his cock. 

Simon squeezes his eyes closed as an image comes to mind, a smaller hand fondling his balls. His hand wraps around the base of his cock as he imagines soft lips on his tip, Johnny’s tongue tracing the parts of him that you can’t fit yet as you take him in your mouth. The sweet whines that would be pulled from you as he choked you on his thick length, Johnny whispering sweet encouragements to you. 

He can picture the two of you, you and Johnny with your tongues entwined, his cum stringing between your lips. 

He growls, yanking Johnny off his cock and pinning him to the tile wall. Johnny’s lips are parted as he breathes heavily, eyes blown with lust as he stares up at his alpha. Simon’s hand tugs at his hair, tilting his head back to bear his throat. Johnny lets out a quiet moan as he sinks his teeth into the delicate skin, leaving a mark he’ll wear proudly for a few days. 

“Turn around and bend over.” He growls to the beta, his cock still hard and throbbing. 

“Sir, yes sir.” Johnny says, smirking wickedly as he slowly turns to face the wall. 

Fucking christ, Simon groans. They’re going to be the death of him. 

You’re going to be the death of him. 

NEXT ->

Taglist, part 1:

@bobaprint @ashy-kit @anunintentionalwriter @mockerycrow @hayleybarnesx @protokosmonaut @fruitymoonbeams-blog @blue-blue0 @hindi-si-ikay @hanellokey @thatonepupkai @redwites @kattiieee @141trash @ghostlythots @lothiriel9 @dillybuggg @beebeechaos @konigsmissedbeltloop @kaoyamamegami @thychuvaluswife @idkkkkkkk8363 @wallwriterstuff @bisky-business @smile-child-13 @anomiatartle @dangerkittenclaws @bless-my-demons @mystic60 @evolutionarry @red-hydra @lunaetiicsaystuff @cadotoast @linaangel @rancid-wasp @codsunshine @thriving-n-jiving @slayerx147 @ferns-fics @spicyspicyliving @cityoffallencrows @puppyel @ttsbaby01 @heeheehoohoohahahihi @sleepyoriana @ihatethinkingofnames10 @cassiecasluciluce @darling006

[bunnyrafe]

𓊆ྀིDO YOU TRUST ME? — “rafe always has his motives.”𓊇ྀི

content / warnings -> 18+, MDNI. 1k. dark / taboo themes ahead — please read at your own risk. ♥︎ gif credit f!reader, kook!reader, dark!rafe, oral (f. receiving), manipulation & persuasion, no protection, baby trapping.

For as long as you can remember you wanted your own family. A big house, a doting husband, a cute baby. All of it and more. Surely for a girl like you who was born spoiled and into a kook household it’s obtainable. Except your prince charming isn’t anything like your family imagined.

“But daddy, I love him!” You find yourself yelling more often than you’d like to admit despite how much your parents try to tell you he’s trouble. And unfortunately at the end of the day they’re right— Rafe Cameron is trouble.

Every inch of him. But every inch of him is also yours. Yours to cling to and lean on, and to daydream about. Your romance started with tipsy nights at the country club before it became loud house parties and drugs that would give your parents heart attacks; it was innocent before it was anything else. That’s what they don’t understand. That’s what you remember as you hang off of his arm, walking back to the truck with your little sundress swaying around your thighs.

You’re the sweetest girl he’s ever known, which is what saves you from most of his fury. It’s a match made in Heaven as far as you’re concerned, but it’s easy to be blinded when there’s constant wedding bells ringing in your head. 

“You’re so handsome, Rafe.” You babble the words out with a hand on either side of his face, looking at him as if he hung the stars in the sky just for you to marvel at. And he’s not exactly sure what he did to deserve someone like you in his life when he’s so twisted, yet he doesn’t dare to question it.

“Think so, baby?” He teases while laying you down on your plush bed. Your parents are out for the night— perfect opportunity to make up for all the times you wanted him but couldn’t have him right there with you.

You hum in response. The calm before the storm, as your breathing picks up in the next few moments as Rafe trails down your body. Leaving hot kisses all over your skin that have you melting against your duvet. You’re too easy to mess with. He can get your pretty head spinning in seconds. 

“I wanna… try something tonight, sweetheart,” he mumbles against your chest, nosing at the neckline of your dress and your cleavage, “do you trust me?” 

Of course you trust him— more than anyone you’ve ever known. He’s your first love, after all.

As expected you’re completely stripped in the following moments. Rafe’s face is buried between your thighs for what must be an hour once he’s had his fill of kissing and teasing you enough to have you whining. Your whines become mewls in no time once he pins your knees to your chest and dives right in. Murmuring nonsense about how he could eat your sweet cunt for the rest of his life, prompting your face to burn and your legs to twitch.

His mouth is arguably the most dangerous thing about him.

He’s slick in the way he talks and greedy in the way he eats, making a mess of your cunt as you witness it all with tears brimming at your lash line from the pleasure every time he circles your clit. With his chin covered in your arousal that’s all over his tongue, too. You can taste yourself on him once he finally travels up your body, scooping the overstimulated mess that you are up in his strong arms to cradle.

“Ready for me, baby?” He grunts into your mouth, “Think you can take it right now?”

You feel the it in question pressing up on the plushness of your thigh through his jeans. The heat in your stomach nearly burns. Your hips buck in anticipation, and you feel Rafe grin against your cheek while you huff out a pathetic noise. And finally, you understand what he meant— what he wants to try— when he doesn’t bother to grab a condom after unbuckling his belt and freeing his cock.

“Rafey,” you begin, because you may be a bit hazy but you’re not that gone yet.

“Shhh, shhh. It’ll be fine, sweetheart,” he coaxes, pressing his forehead to yours while he stares into your glossy eyes. His own seems darker, something beyond lust pooling in his irises, “lemme feel this pretty pussy properly…”

You can’t really argue with that. Especially when you feel so empty, when there’s a dull ache between your thighs. You need him. And the “thank you, baby” he grunts out while he spreads your folds with the tip of his cock before pressing a sweet kiss to your lips makes it all worth it.

Along with the way he holds your waist as he fucks you, pressing sloppy kisses to your calves as your knees are hooked over his shoulders— “My pretty girl,” he groans down at you, watching your tits bounce in time with his thrusts while you struggle to say anything and claw at his forearms with baby pink nails. 

You’re creaming all over him, and the sight and feel of it all is even better now that there isn’t a condom in his fuckin’ way, as he says. It’s borderline numbing for both of you every time he fucks back into you, grinding your hips up against him with the grip he has on you in one swift movement each time. You can feel him so deep. He’s ruining your cunt for anyone else, not that they’d ever have a chance.

Because most importantly he’s going to make sure that you’re always by his side, and that your parents and his own will finally take him seriously. If he has to give you a baby to do that, then so be it— Rafe always has his motives.

The sun shines through your windows. However you’re not feeling very bright as Rafe looms over you, staring down at the pregnancy test in your lap. You sniffle not once but twice while wishing those two red lines would just go away.

That they would become one.

Rafe’s fingers find themselves tucked under your chin, tilting your head upwards so you’ll finally look at him. 

“You should be grateful, y’know…” He says simply, “I gave you what you always wanted.”

©BUNNYRAFE 2024

[cosmicmunsonwrites]

Drunk reader meets rafe while he’s talking to his friends. Your drunken status leaves you falling asleep on his lap with him taking you back to his house so your safe

but you came right on time

pairing(s): rafe cameron x fem!reader

warnings: alcohol consumption

summary: after having one too many drinks, you find yourself talking to outerbanks’ golden boy.

authors note: guys i’m so sorry for not updating but with school starting last week, i’m literally dying rn. i changed it up just a tad :) thank you for the request though and i really hope you enjoy!

not edited

do not copy my works. i do not condone rewrites, translations, or edited versions. all my content is my content that i wrote.

not my gif

you were currently sat on the couch with a cup of cheap beer in your hand, waiting on your friend to return from wherever she’d gone. she was your ride after all.

“dude, shes smokin’ hot,” you heard a boy say from your right. you then saw him point to a girl across the room. he was standing with a green beer bottle in hand while talking to another guy sat right next to you.

the boy next to you was very pretty. he also looked very troubled.

“are you okay?” you drunkenly asked, trying to provide him some sort of comfort.

his blank expression immediately morphed into one your couldn’t quite make out when he looked towards you. “what?”

you had thought it was a pretty straightforward question. “are you okay?” you repeated a little louder this time incase he couldn’t hear over the music.

he looked almost confused. “yes? why do you ask?”

you opted for a simple shrug before you took another sip of your drink. “you look upset,” you replied. “jus’ wanted to see if you were alright.” then you held out a hand in front of you. “y/n.”

he hesitantly took it. “rafe.”

“cool name,” you slurred out. once your hands were freed from one another, you leaned over and rested your head on his shoulder and cuddled into his side in desperate need of a nap.

you closed your eyes and allowed yourself to slowly find sleep.

rafe hadn’t even noticed, still engaged in a conversation with topper and kelce. but when he did, he couldn’t help but feel the urge to protect you in your vulnerable state. he gently grabbed the cup from your hand and placed it on the table along with his own. “i think ‘m gonna get going,” he alerted the other two.

“so soon?” kelce asked. “it’s just getting started.”

topper chuckled and hit the boys chest. “you gonna take her to your place or somethin’?”

“what else am i supposed to do? leave her here?” he asked with a quirked brow.

the blonde smirked. “i’m sure any other guy here would gladly take her home.”

“you’re disgusting, top,” kelce grimaced.

rafe simply rolled his eyes, not wanting to engage in a conversation with the idiot he called his best friend. he slowly stood up while making sure you wouldn’t fall over. once he was up on his feet, he lightly tapped your shoulder. “hey.”

you grumbled and stirred slightly. “what?”

“c’mon. ‘m gonna take you to my place, okay? i need you to follow me though,” he said softly, grabbing your hands and gently pulling you up on your feet. you drunkenly stumbled into his chest before finally gaining balance. “ready?” he asked as he snaked a hand around your waist for stability.

you nodded and leaned into him a little closer as you walked towards his car. once you arrived without falling over, he opened the passenger door and helped you get in and buckle up before shutting it and doing the same for himself.

fortunately, the ride to the cameron residence was short.

and to make things even better, his parents weren’t home. nor were his sisters.

with his assistance, you two had successfully made it up the stairs and into his bedroom.

“here,” he said, handing her an unopened bottle of water on his bedside table he’d placed there before he left earlier in the day. “take a seat and drink it.”

you groaned, closing your eyes as you sat down. “i don’t like water.”

his brow raised in confusion. “you don’t like water?”

you immediately shook your head slowly to avoid worsening your headache. “no. too bland.”

he couldn’t help but chuckle. “well, i need you to drink a little bit then you can head to bed.” he began to rummage through his drawers before dropping something onto the mattress next to her. “here. change into these. if you need anything, i’m gonna go get some ibuprofen from the kitchen.”

you nodded lazily and waited until he closed the door behind himself to change into the clothes.

when he returned, he knocked softly and asked a soft, “can i come in?” when he got no answer, he slowly opened the door to find you knocked out already. you were dressed in his hoodie and sweats that absolutely swallowed you. he glanced over at the water bottle as he headed to the closet, noticing you’d taken a few sips. he pulled out a soft blanket from inside and draped it over you in hopes of making you as comfortable as possible.

the thought of you not being here with him right now and having someone else take you home to do only god knows what to you was making his blood boil. it didn’t matter though. after all, you were here with him.

he grabbed out another blanket from the college and a pillow, making his bed for the night on the floor. if this were anyone else he was sleeping on the ground for, he’d be pissed. but knowing you were here and protected by him somehow just made him feel a whole lot better.

[thefrogdalorian]

Sanctuary

Din Djarin x GN!Reader

Summary: It's one of those days when your emotions threaten to overwhelm you. Despite the horrible day you're having, you try your best to keep it together. A feat you manage, until a certain Mandalorian arrives home and takes you into his arms. Word Count: 1.2k ✯ Rating: General ✯ Content Warnings: Descriptions of anxiety/panic attack ✯ Author's Note: Seeing these gifs the other day broke something in my brain and this little fic was the result. I hope this gets you through a day when you really need a hug from Din Djarin 💕 ✯ My Masterlist ✯

On the days when your stomach churned and you were too upset to vocalise the war that waged within yourself, you were grateful to have someone in your life who seemed to know exactly what you needed. There was no doubt that Din understood you better than you understood yourself. It was unsurprising, given how meticulous and attentive he was in everything he turned his hand to.

You had been in each other's lives for some time, yet you still found yourself pleasantly surprised each time he shared such care towards you. You never doubted Din's kind heart once you got to know him, but you were nonetheless astonished by the multitudes he contained. It was astounding how tender and caring the man, who had gained such a fearsome reputation throughout the galaxy as a ruthless bounty hunter, actually was beneath his cold, hard beskar. 

It was early in the morning when Din had left through the door and your stomach tied itself into knots as you heard his heavy footprints gradually fade into the distance. The sound indicated that you were now alone with your thoughts. Throughout the day, you had pushed your emotions to the deepest depths inside yourself. You had been trying to kid yourself, in his absence, that you could survive the day without breaking down. You told yourself over and over that if you could just make it until Din returned and then put on a brave face when he walked through the door, you would have survived the day without dissolving into pieces. The last thing you wanted was for Din to see how upset you were. The fear that you were weighing him down with your troubles or somehow holding him back from achieving greater things was omnipresent. Even though he had never given you a reason to fear such a thing, you were constantly terrified of being seen as a burden to him.

The familiar heavy footsteps grew louder; their rhythmic, even quality indicated they could belong to only one man. You took a deep breath and attempted to steady your racing heart, preparing yourself to keep it together upon Din's return.

The second you saw his figure in the doorway, you knew it was a lost cause. At the sight of the familiar outline of beskar shining in the entryway, you immediately knew that there was no way that you would be able to maintain your composure. You stood up immediately, rising off the chair you had been sitting on as you waited for him, to greet the man who owned your heart entirely. Instead of racing towards him as usual, you found yourself suddenly overcome with apprehension. Your steps faltered with uncertainty as you walked towards him on shaky legs, feeling your ability to stay strong evaporate just from laying eyes upon him. 

Din held his arms out to you without hesitation, beckoning you to come close to him.

“Come here, cyare,” Din whispered as you stepped into his orbit, his voice gravelly, “Let me hold you.”

As you closed the distance between you and Din to rest your head in the crook of his neck, you caught a glimpse of his mudhorn pauldron, glinting despite the low light of the cabin. Despite how terrible you felt, the ghost of a smile passed across your lips as you noticed the signet was so distinctively Din. Stepping into his arms felt like you were returning to safety. To your home.

You rested your head in the crook of his neck and nuzzled into his rough cowl, enjoying his familiar scent. It was musky and masculine, but not overbearing. You detected a faint hint of perspiration mixed with the floral scent you knew lingered on his skin thanks to the bottle of liquid he lathered across his tan skin in the 'fresher each morning. Din’s chestplate was firm against your body. Initially, you recoiled at the slight chill from the beskar, discernible even through your layers of clothing. Once you had adjusted to the temperature and new sensation, though, you felt nothing but warmth when you were in his arms.

As Din held you close and his hands rubbed comforting circles into your back with one strong arm holding you tightly around the waist, you appreciated the way your bodies fit together. It was as you were admiring how you seemed to be made for each other that you noticed how Din had wrapped his cape around your shoulders to further cocoon you into him. As though he was protecting you from all of the hurt that lingered outside of the sanctuary of his arms. From whatever was troubling you. There was no intense questioning, no expectations for answers. Only safety, love and understanding from a man who wanted to help you through your very worst days.

Something about nuzzling into Din’s neck and the care he had taken to raise your spirits rendered you speechless. You were overcome with emotion, powerless to stop the tears which started falling down your cheeks. At first, it was a solitary droplet, but then you couldn’t help yourself as more and more tears slipped from your eyes. 

At the first sound of your sniffles, Din pulled away from you. You felt your stomach drop in panic, momentarily afraid that you had upset him somehow. You looked up at him and felt the embarrassment settle somewhere low in your stomach, a physical symptom of the mortification you felt at your outburst. Then came the shame. You were dismayed that you had lost control of your emotions in such a way. Evidence of your loss of composure was evident in the reflection of your face in his helmet. You watched as your expression grew increasingly more distraught and felt your chest heaving as the panic rose within you, upset at your emotional state.

Fortunately, Din was nothing but understanding and caring. Before your thoughts could spiral anywhere darker, he began to use his soft leather gloves against your cheeks to dry the tears that were burning hot trails down your skin. It distracted you from your anguish, his tender touch providing instant comfort.

You relished the contact and melted into his embrace. Between his hand that lingered on your cheek, while the other rubbed your back and ensured his cape still swaddled you, your mood was instantly calmer. Din brought you back into his shoulder and returned his hands to your back, rubbing up and down as he held you close. You wrapped your arms around his waist, relishing the small contact you gained with the warmth of his flesh between the hard plates of his beskar. You stayed like that for a few more minutes, feeling your anguish dissipate with each second that Din held you.

Eventually, your breathing evened out and returned to a less frantic pace. Sensing that his embrace had had the intended effect on your fragile emotional state, Din pulled away once again and brought his hands to cup your jaw gently.

“How are you feeling now?” he rasped as he stroked your cheeks with his gloved thumbs. 

“Being in your arms always makes me feel better,” you smiled.

“I’d hold you for the rest of my days if you only asked me to, cyare,” Din vowed with a nod of his helmet. 

You smiled then, enjoying the way your face lit up with a smile and how your eyes had regained their sparkle thanks to the tight embrace of your attentive Mandalorian; your sanctuary.

[shadowmaat]

Muting & Blocking are evil, now

It used to be that muting and blocking were considered the polite way to avoid people and content you didn't want to see. Common wisdom was that you could block (or mute) anyone for any reason, no matter how minor/petty.

Then came the accusations about "echo chambers" and how folks were using these very handy features in order to silence dissenting opinions so they could live in their own little bubbles of unreality.

This applied equally to Liberals who were refusing to listen to "vaccines cause autism" rhetoric and to Conservatives who refused to listen to scientists. And many many other variations of that kind of thing. SO many variations.

The point is that people tried to turn mute/block from a tool into a weapon. If you refused to listen to a dissenting opinion, you were a Bad Person. And probably delusional.

Lately the rage against mute/block seems to be getting even worse. I've heard folks say that muting someone for spamming "help me" posts from others is an attempt to silence those voices and shows that the muter is a cruel, heartless person who doesn't care about other people. As opposed to, y'know, the person only having so much money to give and being overwhelmed by how many more people she couldn't help.

I also saw a rather wild case on bluesky where someone accused an OP of "censorship" for blocking him (he was very anti-mask) because, regardless of her stance on things, he had a right to use her mentions as a soapbox for his beliefs and she was oppressing him. (on bluesky when an OP blocks someone all their replies show up as blocked within the thread).

Whatever happened to muting/blocking someone for any damn reason you want? What happened to being able to curate your own experience and/or protecting yourself from stressful content? The growing issue of "everyone assumes the worst possible thing" fits in here, too, and it gets used as an excuse to be angry and lash out.

How do you live your life being angry at everything all the time? It must be exhausting. Which probably just makes you angrier.

Anyway, I'm gonna keep muting and blocking people whenever I want. I'm not gonna get bent out of shape when people do it to me. And frankly, I have enough trouble managing my own life without trying to micromanage the lives of others. LOL!

Remember to focus on the good things once in a while so you don't get stuck in a toxic quagmire of "everything and everyone is awful, all of the time."

Anyway, enjoy this gif of a small, stripey kitten snoozing hard in someone's hand, surrounded by a big puffy blanket. There are still good things in the world, and the ability to tune out once in a while is one of them.

[slut4thebroken]

Soothing

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Dark!Jason Todd × innocent Batgirl!reader

Summary | Jason just likes the sound of your voice.

Warnings | Sexual content, 18+, corruption kink, masturbation, no female orgasms, lowkey misogynistic!Jason lol, adopted siblings, but like... he doesn't think of her that way and neither does she, Jason pov.

Words | 1k

Notes | Finally wrote the fic from this post. Also I realized that I said that good weird was the first in this collection but I guess technically this is. That was just the first time they actually got together. (Help I’m literally so bad at choosing gifs/pictures for fics💀)

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

Other innocent! reader fics

Backstory for this series here

It had been a long fucking day. A long week to be honest. He never really liked working with Dick or Tim, always preferring to work alone, but he couldn’t deny that he needed more manpower for this, and everyone else he knew was busy, so he swallowed his pride and called them. 

Even though it was his mission, Dick always naturally took the lead, so it was no surprise that he did this time too. The whole week so far was spent arguing about whose plan was better and Tim trying to diffuse the tension, but primarily siding with Dick. He almost considered making them go home so he could do it alone, but he knew that would get himself killed. Again. 

But today was by far the worst of the whole week and he wanted nothing more than to hear your voice. So even though it was 4am for him, he called you, praying you’d pick up. When you did, you started the usual greeting of “hi” and “how are you?” as he took off everything but his underwear and slipped under the covers. 

“When do you come back?” You asked, making him smile. 

“Just a few more days, princess. Promise.”

“Okay.” You said quietly, then, “I miss you.” He let out a low chuckle and could imagine the pretty blush painting your cheeks from his reaction. 

“I miss you too, sweetheart. What have you been up to though?” You rambled on about your day, telling him about how Alfred made cookies earlier and that you were quickly growing bored in the mostly empty manor and your completely empty apartment. 

He tried to pay attention, honestly he did. But he hasn’t touched his cock in almost a week because of how busy he’s been and he missed the sound of your voice. So what else was he supposed to do when his cock fattened up in his briefs? 

When you started talking about this new show you’ve been watching, he tuned out your words a little bit, just listening to the softness of your voice, imagining the pretty little whimpers you could make with it. Pushing the covers and his underwear down, he freed his cock and instantly took it in his hand, stroking slowly. His breathing started to change a little, growing heavier and faster, making you trail off in the middle of your sentence. 

“Don’t stop talking, princess.” He rasped, hand speeding up. 

“Are you okay?” You asked quietly. 

“I’m perfect. Your voice is just so soothing, baby. Keep talking.” 

“O-okay.” You continued hesitantly, telling him about how you fell and scraped your knee, wishing he was there to help bandage you up like he’s done in the past. You told him about how you’ve been having trouble sleeping since you can’t come to his room in the middle of the night after having a nightmare. God- he fucking misses that too. It’s one of his favorite things, being able to caress your body or grind against you while you sleep, never waking up because of how safe you feel in his arms. When he let out a quiet grunt, you stopped again. 

“Are you sure you’re okay? What was that?” 

“I’m so good, princess. Keep going.” He tried not to moan through the words. 

“Okay…” He swiped a thumb over the tip and took in a sharp breath, making you stop again. “Why are you breathing weird, Jay?” 

“Baby, I'm not.” He sighed. “I promise I'm okay. If you don’t want to keep talking, we don’t have to.”

“No!” You said quickly, because of his tone. “I didn’t mean it like that, I was just worried.” Instead of letting him reply, you continued talking about random things that have happened while he’s been away. Every once in a while he’d let out a sound to let you know he was listening, a grunt disguised as a sound of acknowledgement, but you bought it. 

He started tuning out your words again, just focusing on the soft lull of your sleepy voice. You being sleepy is probably his favorite thing, closely followed by you being scared or in pain. You’re so pliable, so easy to manipulate. He can caress your tit or your ass and pass it off as an accident, or even tell you that he can’t sleep in clothes, only underwear, and that it’s perfectly normal for your big brother to sleep almost naked beside you. Sometimes, if he’s really lucky, he can convince you that you won’t be comfortable in those modest pajamas you wear and that you’ll be able to sleep much better in just his shirt. And you almost always agree. 

He stroked his cock even faster, quickly nearing his orgasm after so long without one, and when he cursed under his breath, then let out a long, quiet groan, you trailed off again. 

You did your best to keep speaking, stuttering through the sentences, but it fell on deaf ears as he came, thinking about how fucking hot it was that you didn’t even know.  When his noises quieted and he was lightly panting, you decided to ask again. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” 

“I’m perfect, baby.” He sounded significantly more tired and relaxed, but he knew you’d be too stupid to put it together. “You’re so good for me- my good girl. Thank you, princess.” 

“You’re welcome…?” You asked, confused, but he wasn’t going to bother explaining. “Are you tired now?” 

“Just a little, but I can stay up for you.” He murmured, grabbing a tissue from the nightstand to wipe his come off his stomach, cock twitching as he imagined you licking it off him instead. 

“You don’t have to, Jay. I’m tired too.” He knew you well enough to know that was a lie. 

“How about we go to sleep, but don’t hang up. How does that sound?” 

“Okay, yeah. Thank you, Jay. I love you.” You said quietly, but he could practically hear the smile in your voice.  

“I love you too, princess. Sweet dreams.” He knew he would at least have some. 

[wheresmymilliondollarman]

aaron warner x ferrars! reader pt. 3

when omega point falls, you find yourself in need of the supreme commander's son, and discover unresolved feelings along the way.

(taken place during ignite me & hc continuation from part two)

that is literally me in this gif y'all🖤🖤

a/n: hello!! finally back with part 3. i'm sorry for the wait, i wanted to do other requests, but tbh i might focus on this little series so that way it's complete and everyone can read it all together. also idk why i even label it hcs anymore LMAOO like i feel it's progressed to a fic atp, but i'm too stubborn to change my format and titles, so humor me LOL. (maybe i'll turn this into a legit fic when i finish, who knows) pls do not kill me for not including every detail, i tried to highlight the best parts as much as i could. also might seem all sunshine rainbows rn with relationships, but just wait for the next book… 🤞 extra info: kinda change adam's character cus i feel like he was an extra ass at times for no reason in the book?? like trying to kill kenji for no reason?? small redemption arc. kinda slight change to juliette. also, i love making reader, juliette, and kenji a lil trio.

word count: 10.7k (im insane)

warnings: mentions of fights, blood, injuries, and death. use of military time (reader so me fr bc it took me so long to understand that shit), suggestive and matureish content.

the first thing on your mind, when you woke up, is that you had to be dead. if you opened your eyes, you would see the golden gates of heaven or the fiery pit of hell. based on how you lived your short life: you were thinking hell.

you realized you were alive and mostly well from the horrible aching from your body, the bandages wrapped around your chest, and the fact your current surrounding was a bedroom.

"hey, amor, take it easy." a voice said as you attempted to sit up.

by your side was aaron warner, sitting down on a stool next to the bed you laid on. he, uncharacteristically, looked disheveled, his clothes messy, and his eyes anxious.

your panic arose as you remembered events - fighting against the reestablishment, then getting caught, and then being shot in the chest by anderson. and then you recognized the room; it was aaron's bedroom - back at the base.

aaron notices your alarm and grabs your hands to calm you down. "it's alright you're safe here, i'm not gonna hurt you."

it may have been an idiotic move, but you believed his words.

"why are we here?"

"i had no choice. everyone believes your dead, and the base is the best place to keep you hidden."

"i don't understand...i'm not a medic by any means, but shouldn't i be dead?"

"you have sara and sonya to thank for that. they were able to save your heart from stopping before being dragged away by my father. then, i was able to take their energy as my own and heal the rest of you."

you were thankful for his aid in your life being saved, but you were too focused on many other worries to properly thank him. like the state of your friends.

you try your hand at getting up, trying to ignore the dizziness that comes with it. aaron holds you steady to stop you from falling.

aaron protests, "you need to res-" but you interrupt, "i need to go. i-i have to find everyone and help them."

"you can't."

you stop your movement and turn to aaron, "what do you mean? i know i'm in horrible shape, but i have to see juliette and everyone else could be in troubl-"

"it's over."

your face scrunches up in confusion, "what?"

aaron's silent for a few movements; you can't breathe. he looks down, his grip on you tightening, "they're dead. all of them."

you look at him in horror, your mouth open, but no words are released. your knees give out, and Aaron carries your full weight in his arms.

he slowly brings you both down to the ground next to the bed, still holding onto you. "i'm sorry, please believe me when i say that. if there was a way to spare you of this pain i would do it in a heartbeat."

you feel like a shell of yourself, you have no reaction, just an emotionless look on your face.

"what happened?" you say in a monotone voice.

"amor, i think you need to lay down or shower, then eat some-"

"what happened," you repeat with a harsher voice.

"they... overtook your friends, some were taken to be tortured, but most were.. shot dead."

"and omega point?"

"....destroyed. they got the coordinates and bombed the entire foundation."

you feel disconnected from reality; nothing feels real. everything is numb; you can't find it in yourself to let out any sort of emotion.

"so juliette, kenji, adam, james..."

aaron didn't need to answer for you to know. they're gone.

the first thing you did was laugh like a lunatic, aaron likely looked at you like you were mad. then finally, the tears came.

you yelled at aaron to get out, even though it was his room. in hysteria, you started levitating things and throwing them at him until he exited the room.

you don't know how long you spent sobbing on the floor next to the bed. you weren't even sure if you were going to stop.

your voice was sore from the number of times you wailed apologies to juliette for being a bad sister and for not being there to protect your friends.

when the tears finished, you reached denial. you knew your friends - there was no way they were dead. juliette was stronger than you, physically and sometimes mentally, so if you could survive a bullet to the chest, your sister could be alive.

when aaron comes back hours later to check on you, he didn't expect to see you walking around in new attire, packing clothes and items into a bag.

"what are you doing?"

"i have to go back."

aaron was taken aback by your statement, but you claimed there was a possibility there were people who survived. he countered saying he'd seen the damage and it wasn't likely. you didn't listen to him and continued preparing.

"this is unhealthy and possibly delusional thinking."

"well, then put me back in the asylum if i'm wrong. i'm going if you let me or not."

he sighs, and then gives in, not before insisting he comes along with you. now you were the one taken aback. was he actually offering to help you?

"why do you seem surprised? it's not as if i haven't made my care for you quite clear."

"no offense, but you're the most confusing man ever. i want to trust you, i've seen your good-natured side. you even claim to.. love me. but you work for the reestablishment, but then claim to be on my side. don't forget the fact you tried to turn juliette and i into weapons for the reestablishment, held us, hostage, at your base, and put us into a torture chamber. not exactly behavior that screams i want to help you."

at this he laughs then laughs harder and you get annoyed, not knowing what was funny. you were ready to kick him out again until he finally stooped.

"i suppose i owe you a long overdue explanation."

nothing prepared you for his next words. aaron began to retell the events from his perspective. starting with his true intentions of bringing you and juliette from the asylum - to study the both of you.

aaron explained his mother's condition, being unable to be touched - a reverse juliette basically. he sought out her at first, then discovered your existence and became intrigued more.

he invented the guise of using you both for weapons as a way for his father to agree to invest in you both.

as anderson mentioned before, juliette was of special interest because of her ability, and yours wasn't as impressive to him at the time. aaron had to convince the commander that your mind reading ability would be great for spy purposes.

once he brought the two of you to the base, he was ready to face 2 vicious and demented sisters, but it was literally the opposite of that. instead he got stuck with two stubborn and immature, you were offended at that, teenage girls.

"juliette was more of the hard-headed one, you mostly just followed along, i figured that out after the dinner and dress stunt. however, i can't say feeding you myself wasn't pleasurable for myself."

aaron saw your fear of your own ability and had intentions to help you and juliette, in his own way.

his tried various ways to unlock your potential - with juliette he tried anger and bullying and with you he knew you couldn't suppress hearing thoughts, so he figured spending time with you was the best option. but he came to understand how much he loved being around you.

"i was so addicted to being around you, i got sidetracked. but then my worry grew when you both showed no progress on enhancing your ability, so as a last resort, i arranged an experiment."

to your surprise, he revealed it was actually a simulation which was a major relief to you that no one was actually harmed by your powers, well, no one besides warner. but he partly deserved it for putting you through that.

although you were mad he implanted that fear into you, you had to admit. it did work.

"so, instead of finding some way to inform me earlier of all this, you make my sister and i think of you as some supervillain who wanted control of our autonomy." you grab the nearest pillow and launch it at him. "you're an idiot! we were scared out of our minds! juliette and i's last conversation was a fight over that! do you know much much time you could- are you seriously smiling?"

"god, i love it when you yell at me."

now that the ait was clear, you were able to put more of your faith into aaron and his intentions. and not feel bad about kissing him.

the two of you worked together on a plan to get you back to what was left of omega point.

you met an older gentleman by the name of delalieu. he was very sweet, but it got a little vexing every time he jumped to warner's defense whenever you made a remark; even ones said in levity. 

a few days later, when aaron deemed it safer, you both set off to leave. although you had the misfortune of having to be stuffed into a cart to avoid being spotted. at least it was better than the body bag you were transported in the first time.

the two of you transported to what was left of omega point in a tank. aaron notably was able to drive to the location with ease. you grew suspicious because one - he told his father he didn't know how to get there and two - he was unconscious the whole time you, juliette, kenji, and adam drove there. you decide to question him on the matter.

"i wasn't completely unconscious on the trip there. i was very conscious when you were touching my hair and tracing my features."

"i knew it! you little faker, you intentionally pushed yourself onto me didn't you!"

when you both arrived, the scene was as horrible as you imagined. - rubbles and dust everywhere and a huge gaping hole miles down. you felt sick thinking about everyone who stayed behind, including james. god, you hoped at least your friends were alright.

you were suddenly tackled to the ground by warner, and the sound of a gunshot followed after. a voice yelled out, and you immediately recognized it - kenji.

you got up instantly and ran to him, attacking him with a gigantic hug, tears brimming at your eyes.

"oh my god, i thought you were dead!"

"i thought you were dead!"

"you almost killed me right now when you shot at us like a lunatic!"

"sorry, i was aiming for warner- where'd he go?"

you change subject, "juliette? is she alright?"

kenji confirms she is alive, and you felt like you could breathe again. you needed to see her as soon as possible.

kenji started looking for warner like a madman, and you, too, were curious about his whereabouts - until he startled you by "showing" up behind you. he had turned himself invisible.

he was ready to take you both back before kenji shot him, but you declined to say you had to see juliette and anyone else that survived. aaron was reluctant but then handed you a pager, not that you knew what it was, and gave you a limit of four hours. you thought it to be ridiculous, but you compromised to ease his worries.

you and kenji ventured back to adam's house, your first time being there since you were unable to the first time around. he, heart-achingly, filled you in on the events, how they searched for you, how many were lost, and who remained. you told your side of the action, including everything with aaron.

kenji did have some judgemental comments, but you understood he was reeling from the shock of everything, especially from the details regarding aaron.

you bite your tongue when kenjii speaks ill of warner. defending him would only make you look naive, plus you couldn't deny the others had their reasoning for disliking the guy. you would end up sounding like delalieu.

"so what, you like the guy now? god, don't tell me your gullible enough to fall for it just because he's the first guy to show interest in you."

his words cut deep into you, but you don't respond and change the subject back to getting to the house. you didn't want to argue after being so happy kenji is alive. but damn did you want to give him a shove with your powers.

your spirits lifted as soon as you reached the destination. you pull kenji to the front door and urge him to open it. he knocks and confirms his identity before it's opened by winston, who was shocked to see you.

you greeted him quickly, feeling bad, but your main focus was your sister. next you see alia, castle, brendan, lily and alia. (all frozen to their spots as soon as they noticed you). when you see james you give him a tight hug, thankful for his well-being.

adam and juliette walked out of the kitchen engaged in conversation, not noticing you at first. then kenji drew their attention with a cough.

both of you were paralyzed at first; you were the first to break and jump at her with tears and an overbearing hug. she was quick to return it, then the both of you started crying in relief to see each other after thinking the other was dead.

"i'm so sorry for how we ended things, you had a right to be upset and i was a bad sister for not taking your feelings into account. "

"no, i'm the one who overreacted. i should've came with you the moment you told me you felt something was wrong."

"okay we get it elsa and anna; you're both very happy to see each other. please, no more tears."

you both pulled away, laughing softly at your dramatics. you turned and gave adam a much quicker hug, him happy to see you breathing.

with greeting out of the way, everyone's attention was turned back to you, particularly how you survived. you took a deep breath, and retold everything you told kenji, leaving out intimate details about aaron and you. everyone reacted similarly to the way kenji had.

the room then filled with different questions and thoughts, all voices one another, reminding you of listening to different people's thoughts at the same time. they all started assuming the worst in warner, and this time you did defend him - but it only made you look guilty.

the subject turned over to what was the next plan of action. castle was out of it, so he provided no help. adam was the first to protest any sort of fight, his concern for james overshadowing. juliette was on the fence about it for adam's sake, but you knew she wanted to fight against the reestablishment like everyone else, if not more. especially after all they had put the two of you through.

the conversation barely got past arguments before the front door was suddenly brought down. everyone, besides you, held up weapons to attack the intruder - you held up your hands, ready to use your power if necessary. but then you recognized the intruder quickly - aaron.

you ran over in front of him and advised everyone to stand down, but they didn't listen, they were too focused on the fact aaron had arrived.

you readied yourself to lower their weapons yourself, but then aaron made a move of his own and flung all the guns across the room with levitation.

"i was gonna do that.." you mumbled quietly to yourself.

"apologies, amor, i'll let you get them next time."

everyone else was stunned, you explained aaron's gift, but it was still a shock to see. a few banters are exchanged, but aaron, uncaring as ever, ignores them and proceeds to grab your arm so the two of you can leave. however, you stop him, not wanting to leave on bad terms.

you informed everyone that aaron was on your side, and they were understandably doubtful to believe it, but as they noticed how he acted with you, it became more believable.

you took the chance to try to persuade everyone to stand up again against the rebellion. juliette and kenji were the first to side with you, and slowly everyone followed along, adam and ian being the ones more reluctant. you could respect adam for thinking of james and juliette, and ian was just an asshole, but he was also mourning. in a turn of events, castle chimed in with his support.

aaron, not thrilled about the new members of your alliance, announced the two of you would be leaving. juliette protested, not wanting to be away from you after she just got you back.

part of you longed to lay on the comfortable bed back at the base, but you needed to stay with your team. so, you made an agreement aaron could return for you the next day.

"so i'll come back for you tomorrow? thirteen hundred hours."

"thirteen hundred hours? like from now?"

"it means one o'clock."

"... one o'clock is not thirteen hundred hours from now."

aaron was holding back a laugh, juliette was just as confused, and kenji physically facepalmed.

aaron eventually left after you reassured him you'd be fine. ian was of no help as he kept insulating it was better if you left. adam stormed off not long after, juliette following to calm him. she returned looking dejected and assumed she and adam fought. kenji suggested the three of you go out for a walk, although it was late.

during the night stroll, all three of you got emotions off your chest. kenji's feelings about the whole situation, juliette's issues with adam (they were still technically broken up) , and your turmoil with warner. kenji was somewhat holding back, but you knew he was just trying to hold up a strong facade.

as you disclosed your confusion and feelings, kenji had many questions, from disbelief, and juliette mainly just patiently listened and remained silent.

"so you like the guy, for what his personality? totally has nothing to do with his looks?

"hey, i'm not shallow! ...aaron just happens to be gifted with excellent looks."

"hearing you call him aaron is so weird. and i'm not judging you if you did. seeing adam shirtless is probably what drew juliette to him at the start."

"hey!"

the light banter made the solemn conversation easier to talk through. it was nice to be always from everything for a bit, and just act like friends.

you three returned back, kenji walked to the door first, and juliette grabbed your wrist to stop you from following him.

"i just want to talk to you alone real quick. about warner,.. or aaron, whatever you call him."

you held your breath, partly ready for her to possibly start another argument.

"i know you're confused about what you feel for him still, but i need you to know if you decide you love him - i'll support you. i don't want it to get in the way our bond. after everything that's happened... i realized there no time to waste on petty little things, especially about guys. all that should matter is we're always here for each other."

you give each other another heartfelt and tearful hug; glad kenji wasn't there to comment on how sappy and emotional it is.

"so, just between us sisters, do you think you love him?"

you laugh, and open the truth of your heart of her.

back inside, you all prepared for him or, as aaron called it a "slumber party." wasn't too far off since everyone besides james, adam, and castle slept on the ground.

your place was between kenji and juliette, each of you having your own pillow and blanket. winston and brendan bantered a bit about kicking faces before the turns finally went out.

"kenji, i know it will be incredibly hard, but keep your hands to yourself."

"you wish. you should be telling your sister that, she's basically all over me every night."

"shut up."

the next day brought a lot of drama. the day started off late, leaving little time to discuss before aaron arrived. another fight between adam and juliette set off. the issue being that aaron was coming back, which adam was completely against. he had been fine with your stay, but he wouldn't compromise for letting him return. adam gave an ultimatum, if you brought warner he would essentially kick you out.

juliette went to your defense and partly aaron's for your benefit. this only set off adam more. kenji tried his hand at intervening but only got backlash from adam, who stormed off outside after. everyone else stayed quiet, but you could tell one or two silently agreed with adam.

you didn't wanna stir any more trouble than needed, so you started preparing yourself to go, clicking the little mechanism aaron gave you a couple times to ensure it worked.

brendan, winston, castle, lily insisted you stay as well. james also gave a small plead for you to remain. juliette believed she could still talk some sense into adam.

it felt great to have their support, but at the same time, you felt bad for having to divide everyone into teams, yours or adam's. instead of building a team, you were tearing one apart.

before you knew it, the newly fixed door was again slammed open by the same intruder from the day before. aaron barged in, almost of breath and distressed. you thought something happened to him because of how disarranged he looked.

he locked his gaze on you and speedily grabbed you in his arms, cupping your face and scanning you up and down for any injuries. you were a bit embarrassed as everyone was a witness to aaron fussing over your well-being.

"did you run here?"

"of course, you beeped the pager."

you assured him you were alright and turned back to everyone with faces of incredulity.

"woah, this is... freaky." winston began.

"i worked for this guy for more than a year and never even saw him smile."

you explained to aaron that you couldn't stay at the house any longer but couldn't leave everyone else either. he offers to have them stay in the training area, but kenji declines, needing a better offer. juliette sides with kenji, the rest don't fully trust warner, so they need reassurance.

you couldn't bare the thought of leaving everyone again, so you pleaded to aaron to give in to their demands, willing to compromise whatever. you were happy and a little shocked, along with everyone else, when he accepted the terms.

"i'll return tomorrow at fourteen hundred ho-" he sees your confused face again, "2 o'clock. i really must educate you on military time, amor"

"or you could just say the time on a clock like the average person."

aaron takes your hand and guides you back to the tank to make your way back to the base before anyone notes his disappearance.

you express your gratitude for his help, and he responds by saying there's not need, he would do whatever to ease your pain. he also partly owed it to you for being so dismissive when you believed your friends were alive.

"i know they all judge you right now, and maybe they always will. but, i do believe you're a good person, and sure, you have flaws, but who doesn't - i am certainly no saint. i don't want to fix you...just want to make you see yourself in a better light like i do." your final words before falling into a slumber against the window.

you return back to the base the way you came in with delalieu's help. your both back in aaron's room, not having said a word to each other since the tank. aaron's started to ask questions about what had happened back at adam's house. you briefly told him about the drama about adam not wanting you there if you were with warner.

aaron became upset, not liking how adam treated you, and reassured you he would harm him if you wanted him to. you quickly assure him that you didn't care about it, you weren't going to beg to stay where you weren't wanted. you were mostly concerned about what it had done to whatever relationship was left between juliette and adam. she obviously loved him, but she couldn't hold herself back for him either.

you go silent at the mention of juliette, remembering your last private conversation. aaron, being able to easily feel your emotions, pick up and it and presses for information.

"it's just.. she asked me if i loved you."

aaron's breath hitches, "what was your response."

"i told her, 'love is a strong word. i'm not even sure i fully understand it. but i think...no i know. i'm falling for him.' "

aaron didn't respond, he got up and went to his office, shutting the door behind him. you weren't sure what it meant. and you didn't see him for the rest of the day.

you couldn't sleep that night; your mind was doing circles in anticipation of the group's arrival tomorrow.

you got up with the intention of solely getting a glass of water, but then heard a loud noise come from the direction aaron's office.

wanting to make sure he was okay, you walked in without notice. the door was already halfway open, so you figured it was alright.

the room was bigger than your childhood home's living room; it was filled with different seats of furniture, books, shelf, etc. aaron was at his large desk - his shirt discarded and only wearing slacks and socks.

aaron's brushes you off, telling you to go to bed, but your focus is on a small jar in his hands. you ask what it is, but he avoids answering, so you grab the object yourself. he attempts to get it from you, but you move away - deja vu to when aaron wouldn't return your journal to you. it felt nice to be on the flip side of it for once.

you read the label and understood it was a medicine. then it clicked; it was for his scars. and he was embarrassed about it. it was kind of cute.

he confirms it's for his back, so you nicely offer to do it for him since he seemed to have trouble reaching it. he was obviously self-conscious no matter how much he denied it, and you told him it didn't matter; you'd already seen them. but he kept turning his back away from you. you were getting suspicious that the scars were only part of the reason he was hiding.

you got annoyed and impulsively used your power to keep him sat and finally make his back face you. you could apologize later.

then you saw it. yes, his scars were still there, but on top of that were your wonky star doodles. the ones you drew in his cells two weeks ago in his cell at omega point.

you were confused about how they were still there, darker than you remember. the pen you used was lousy; you would know since you used it to write and the ink always smudged. the pen ink was also blue, and this was black. the skin around it was also freshly red.

"wait.. is this tattooed?"

his silence confirmed it. you were speechless. he tattooed your silly little doodles. he needed the medicine to numb the pain of the ink.

"why would you do this?"

"figured it your mark was better than the ones my dad left me."

"aaron."

"it was the first time i looked at my back and smiled."

you think your heart burst on the spot.

"god, i would've made them better if i knew you were gonna mark it."

"they're perfect." god, you were ready to melt.

you compose yourself and insist you put on the medicine since it was your tattoo design that's causing him slight pain. he didn't protest this time. you applied it in silence, then worked up the courage to ask about his scars.

aaron was very hesitant, you were ready to be shut down, but then he opened up to you. his scars being a 'birthday gift' from his father. it was heartbreaking to hear and almost brought tears to your eyes, but you knew pity was the last thing he wanted.

"when you saw them back in my cell, i waited to see that look of repulse on your face, but it never came. you observed them so carefully like they were the most interesting thing to you. then you had the gall to say it was similar to abstract art."

"well, it's true. they're not ugly, and you're certainly not repulsive. the scars are like a show of strength for everything you've been through. they're yours; only you decide what they represent. anyone who thinks differently is a total loser."

"please, stop."

"i'm sorry, did i say something wr-"

"i love you. so much that the first thing i did when returning here after escaping omega point was getting delalieu to tattoo my skin because your marks faded. i didn't even let myself wash off in fear they'd disappear before i got a chance to preserve them. i couldn't wipe the smile off my face whenever i looked at it through a mirror. it always reminded me of you. our moments. our last kiss. i burn for you greatly, and you don't even realize it."

"aaron..."

"don't."

"you know how i feel. but i'm still figuring it out, this is all new to me, and i want to get to know you better-"

"please. just go." and you did.

the following day, right on schedule, aaron goes to pick up the group while you stay behind waiting in the training facility that he briefly gave you a tour of.

the group arrived, and you happily greeted them as they looked around the place in awe. aaron began to go over rules and boundaries for the group. after the previous night, you were unsure about where you stood with warner, so you decided to give him some space and stand with the rest of the group. as he spoke, he threw not-so subtle glances your way, making you confused about whether he was upset with you or not.

aaron ventured off, everyone was setting up their items, and you separated with kenji and juliette. they book had look more distressed upon their arrival. apparently, juliette took one last chance to try and convince adam to come along, he didn't budge, saying he had to protect james and encouraged juliette to stay as well. it resulted in an argument; eventually, he respected her decision to fight - but it would mean the end for them. you comforted your sister through her heartbreak, adam had been a big part of her life, even a bit of yours. so to say goodbye must've been hard for her.

kenji also tried to persuade adam, but it escalated, and the two started throwing harsh words at each other. you knew adam was his friends, whether they both acknowledged it or not, and after omega point, you were sure kenji didn't want to lose anyone else. leaving james behind made it worse.

the direction of conversation then turned to you, and you were originally going to deny any conflict, but kenji and juliette picked up on the tension between you and aaron.

juliette starts, "so, what happened with warner?"

"don't know what you mean."

kenji and juliette give each other a mutual glance, " we aren't blind; the guy kept looking at you as if you'd killed his puppy. like seriously, there could've been a rain cloud over him with how much he was sulking."

you opened up to the happenings of last night, leaving out too personal information about warner, and how you weren't sure what to do now. kenji lost his mind at the bit about the tattoo, this new side of warner still weirding him out.

"i thought you were into him?"

"i mean, i am. it's just all so confusing. i'm not trying to string him along, i just want to truly know him before i could want more with him. it feels like he knows every single thing about me, while i'm barely starting to paint a picture. or maybe he only thinks he loves me or he's only interested in me because of my gift."

"dude, everything he has done for us so far is all because of you. what kind of guy tattoo's a stupid drawing someone drew on their back? and i swear he gets cartoon heart eyes when he looks at you too long. i know i called you naive for believing it, but that was before i saw first hand how intimate his feelings are for you."

"he's right, y/n. think about if he only cared about your gift, he would've been treating us the same, after all, he brought both of us in. sure, he acts decent towards me, but i'm pretty sure it has more to do with the fact we're sisters. you don't play nice with someone's family unless you really like them."

you were silent as you absorbed both their perspectives.

kenji sighs, "damn, i need a love life."

"interested in someone else."

"technically single, but i'd choose the asylum over you."

"i'm starting to miss when you both were meek and quiet."

after that friendly therapy session, you regained your focus on the important task, formulating a plan to overtake anderson. you had a few ideas, some you talked about with aaron, but a seventeen-year-old girl can only do so much on her own, so that's why you bring in your sister, who is also seventeen. as the two of you went through essentially the same trauma, she had as much right to be a big part of this as you.

aaron came back hours later, and everyone gathered around and took a seat somewhere. to your surprise, aaron sat down right the to you. the tension is so much worse side by side. knowing aaron could read what you felt didn't make it better.

you began to illustrate the details of the plan, juliette helping fill in and explain points. the goal is to get anderson to sector 45; to do that, you had to take over sector 45. getting people and soldiers to rebel was going to be the trickiest part, and much of the group wasn't on board that it could work.

"we're going to have to show them our strengths, i'll help them see our strength." you explain.

"and if they shoot us?" ian counters..

juliette shrugs, "then don't do it, i'm sure my sister and i are capable of being amazing by ourselves."

"real humble , j."

brendan speaks up, "so, we've got somewhat of a synopsis of juliette's gift, but, no offense y/n, what is it you can do besides read minds?"

it was true; almost everyone wasn't aware of other capabilities you possessed. you didn't like to divulge your gift much back at omega point, kenji, juliette, and castle knowing the most. unlike juliette, who had many different events where she showed her amazing strength, and you were sure they saw more when she practiced at adam's house while you were separated.

you briefly revealed more about your powers, mind-reading, telekinesis, and your ongoing training in telepathic defense. you admitted to losing control a few times as well. the group looked more amazed as you went on.

"prove it."

"yeah, c'mon dude, show us."

everyone else started egging you on to make a show of your powers; you even saw aaron look interested in wanting to see it. you gave in, and asked aaron for permission to throw some objects around, he nodded.

you started levitating different objects and throwing a few around. kenji started begging for you to lift him, so you did - then winston and brendan kept begging to go next. you showcased a small shield of energy you were able to produce. lastly, they wanted to see your telepathic projection, but you explained it would involve harming one of them, so you shut it down.

"so like, you can do all that too right? since you can steal powers?" winston questions warner.

"yes, if i wanted to i could take hers, or any of your powers and use it."

you cough into your hand, "no one's better than the original, though."

"so the two of you together can basically can..."

"take over the world?"

"...was going to say kick serious ass, but you're not wrong."

warner doesn't respond, but you can see him holding back a smile.

the thought of warner taking powers was eerie to the group, but you reassured them of your faith and trust in aaron. then the conversation redirects to the plan. castle questions of what is supposed to happen if you do win, such as who is going to lead.

"i will." juliette pulls you by the arm next to her, "and y/n will help me."

the room falls silent. even warner is still. your head snaps to your sister, that was not a topic the two of you discussed. nor did you know it was up for discussion. you, of course, didn't express your surprise, you couldn't show doubt when this whole meeting relied on trust. juliette's speech on the new world motivated everyone to follow through with the battle plan, you silently supported it, but in your mind, you didn't think it was the best idea for you both to lead a whole country. you think juliette forgets just how young and inexperienced you both are.

but you were sure this was a problem that could be mended later, right?

aaron and you were alone in his room again, the silence so deafening, you mentally cringed. you attempted to start the conversation on his thoughts about the plan, but he began to brush you off. frustrated, you call him out on his recent behavior.

"why is it all or nothing with you? i didn't reject you- all i said was i want to know you better, i saw you in a bad light for a good while. i want to see the positive just as much."

"or maybe you're just expecting too much from me."

"why are you being so stubborn!"

"because you being disgusted with what you learn, would end me."

he walked out after, a common occurrence, it seemed, these past days.

you vented all your frustrations into training the next day. you told yourself you wouldn't focus on warner, no matter how good he looked in sweatpants, and instead use your pent-up energy to master your powers.

it paid off well; you got closer to creating a shield. but maybe a little too well, since you accidentally launched kenji across the room with your energy force. he got you back off, turning invisible and tripping you. juliette concentrated on moving her dumbbell with the force of will, but she struggled. reminded you a lot of your training at omega point. you offered her tips on what worked for you, and kenji coached.

at some point, you went to the back to drink from your water bottle, unintentionally near where warner was bench pressing. then suddenly you heard someone yell 'get down'. it all happened in a flash, you turned around a bit late, and the rock wall behind you came crumbling down at you. you quickly attempted to lift your hands, levitate most of the impact and braced yourself. suddenly, instead of your body colliding with dozen of sharp rocks, you were surrounded in bubbles. you turned the rumble into fucking bubbles.

you stood mouth wide open in shock for a minute, the people around you just as amazed. aaron was the first to run to you, asking if you were alright, and you nodded, still a bit shocked. he expressed his astoundment at your newfound skill.

juliette then came up to you and profusely apologized, and you assured her you were okay and accidents happen.

"i can't count how many times i almost knocked out castle with things during my training. you'll get the hang of it. plus, i'm sure aaron had trouble learning to control power too."

"oh, no. though i've always been very good at everything i do."

you smack his chest, "you are seriously no help."

you continue to train very hard for the rest of the week, your muscle will likely permanently ache in pain.

you and aaron hadn't gotten much better, you really did try to reach out so many times, but if he wasn't going to cooperate, why waste energy.

he made a habit of intentionally putting his focus on things around the base and working late, so he wouldn't see you until you were already asleep.

if things ended badly between you two, i'd be because of his own stupidity, not for your lack of trying nor the judgment of his character.

other than that, all was well. until kenjii decided to casually drop a bomb that adam and james were coming to the base. juliette started freaking out, and you weren't sure where you and adam stood, but you were excited to see james again.

adam arrived, and tensions between the ex-couple were high. they both were cordial but weren't sure how to act around one another. adam went up and apologized to you for his treatment, and you accepted it because he was once your friend, and you hated grudges. james excitedly greeted you, and you gave him a small tour.

then aaron showed up, ignoring adam, but he and james went back in forth in exchanges. it was very entertaining to watch, and aaron pointed out your enjoyment.

"why do you call her amor?"

"it means love in spanish."

"so, do you love her?"

"why, do you?"

"n-no! she's really pretty- i mean, i like her...no, ugh, she's like a million years older than me!"

"hey! i'm not prehistoric!"

you cut the exchange short, grabbing james on the shoulders and dragging him away, "how about we go back t kenji while i explain to you age numbers..."

you and juliette got upgrades in suits. yours similar to your former, but with minor changes. your color was now a darker red with accents of black, your coat was now high to low with slides for the sides of your legs to show, new knee-high combat coots, and new long fingerless gloves. yours and juliette's new material was made to accommodate your powers.

for training, you watched juliette and kenji go back in forth in combat - kenji mostly won due to technique, but juliette overpowered him a few times.

aaron came up to you, and insisted the two of you train in combat together. you rejected his offer; combat was not your forte, you were repeatedly told by kenji many times. so you just stuck to using your powers. but aaron wouldn't back off.

"it's important to learn combat, amor."

"if i run into a bad guy i'll just fling him away."

"and when you can't use your powers, what happens?"

you were going to argue that wouldn't happen, but knew it wouldn't suffice for him, so you just gave in, so he would shut up.

it was no shocker that he easily blocked your punches and stopped any attack. he even had the audacity to be amused at how badly you were doing.

"wow, you are quite terrible."

"okay, i get it i suck. can i go back to my training?"

"c'mon, amor, don't give up so easily. punch me."

as much as you were annoyed, you didn't want to physically hurt him. aaron laughed when you told him that. that itself, ticked you off. and it did not help that now you had an audience invested in the interaction.

you still didn't relent, aaron was a bit disappointed, but he focused on fixing your form.

you don't know if it was the fact aaron laughed, his constant comments, or all your pent-up frustration, but something came over you. while aaron was distracted with giving walking you through hitting an opponent, you hit him - hard. you might've used some of your powers to make the hit stronger, but he didn't need to know that.

aaron staggered back, shockingly caught off guard. you honestly expected him to block it like your other ones; but no you managed to land a hit on his cheekbone area, hitting some of the side of his nose. your poor form made for your knuckles to hurt badly.

everyone stopped what they were doing; even you froze. kenji in the back, trying not to laugh. aaron then recovered, his land touching the side of his face. his face didn't show anger, pain, nor surprise - he was smiling in admiration.

"oh my god, i'm so sorry!"

"no, don't apologize, amor. i'm very content being the first to experience your strength firsthand."

you and aaron ended up cutting practice short and went to the infirmary. you helped treat the large bruise on his face you'd given him as a small apology, and he wrapped your sprained knuckles and partly chasted you for incorrect hand form. was he looking to get punched again?

the following day, aaron woke you up earlier than your normal routine. he mentioned an opportunity for you and juliette to finally get practice outside of the base, and you quickly agreed. you asked why so suddenly, and then he disclosed he was going to visit his mother. it was her birthday, he explained. he didn't say much after that and went over that kenji will keep you and juliette invisible after he leaves.

but you couldn't help your curiosity and asked a little about his mother. hearing the story of his ring broke your heart. the only gifts you got were when you and juliette exchanged homemade gifts for your shared birthday, but the story made you appreciate that tradition much more.

"i think it's good you still visit her."

"is it?"

"it is. knowing you have someone there is sometimes enough. whenever i remembered i had my sister with me, it made the asylum not completely terrible. and around you, i feel like i achieve anything."

juliette, kenji, and you, invisible, met with warner at his tank. you didn't even need to tell him of your presence before he helped you into the tank and got on the driver side to start it.

"how'd you..." you ask, confused.

"i can sense your presences. especially yours."

"woah, freaky. what's mine feel like? peanut better?" he got ignored.

you settled on the opposite window side, juliette next to you, and kenji next to aaron. kenji started shuffling around, uncomfortable.

"dude, y/n, switch seats with me."

"what why?"

"your boyfriend is touching my leg."

"you flatter yourself." aaron interjects.

"c'mon hurry up! i think he's about to knife me..."

"just switch with juliette. it's easier."

"no way, if i'm gonna move, i might as well get the window seat."

you roll your eyes (not that he can see), and the two of you begin a messy movement of bodies to switch seats. poor juliette, stuck in the middle, getting hit by an occasional limb.

"ow, you just hit me in the face-" juliette complains.

"sorry, i'm trying my best-"

"now you just hit me!" you exclaim.

"oh my god, let me just-"

"kenji!"

kenji was the first to get to his new seat, you were situated over both him and juliette. kenji, tired of your leg in his face, shoved you with brief warning. and in an attempt to stable yourself you put your hands out on aaron's lap, but one hand missed. and landed on his groin. aaron visibly flinched and put his lips together in a straight line to contain his painful expression.

you gasped and hastily moved your hands in a panic, then to make matters worse - you fell face first in his lap. you were so happy to be invisible at the moment.

aaron takes a sharp intake of air, and his knuckles turn white from how tight he grips the wheel. you scramble you sit correctly, accidentally putting a hand on his groin again before finally in the seat. the silence was deafening.

aaron promptly dropped you both off at an empty site and bid you goodbye. you gave him some last words for comfort that you noticed he appreciated. then he went off.

sometime later, it was time for the four of you to meet up again. the practice had been somewhat successful. there were many miscalculations with practicing and being invisible. the three of you kept stumbling into each other, having the wrong place meant, and arguing over who was right. but ignoring that, you did get some practice in there.

aaron, however, was unusually late. it worried you. kenji and juliette didn't think much of it. but since you knew his location, you sensed there was something wrong. you asked both of them to check on him to ensure he was already, and you three walked to the house. you avoided mentioning aaron's mother.

you asked juliette and kenji to wait outside as you went inside.knji begrudgingly agreed, ensuring he could keep the invisibility up inside, too. juliette bid you to be careful and return as soon as possible.

you saw a few different pictures of aaron with his mother as a child. you looked through different rooms until you found him. he was sitting on the floor with his knees to his chest, his frame trembling. his mother died; you put together. you quickly knelt down and gave him a hug that he accepted. you let him hold you tightly as he sobs sorrowfully. it was painful to witness, so you let him cry onto your shoulder for however long he needed.

an hour later you returned, kenji and juliette already in the tank, no invisibility. you didn't need for them to say anything to know they had questions, so you avoided their gaze. next to you, aaron held your hand the whole way back

his mother's death reminded you of his family, the unknown fact to him that he shares blood with adam and james. you wanted him to know, but truly, you didn't want any part of that mess. knowing was already knawing at you as it was. juliette disagreed; she thought adam needed to tell aaron.

you thought leaving aaron alone was the best decision. you even planned to spend the night where everyone else was. but as you were packing a bag, he stopped you. aaron grabs your arm and turns you to look at him.

"you're right. i am holding back. i was telling you how much you were in denial, but it was me who was holding back. you've always seen me in a light like no one has. i've never thought of myself as even a decent man until you came around. and it scares me. so much. i'm afraid of disappointing you, and you'll be disgusted with me, see the monster i see every day in the mirror. but if giving more of myself is all it takes to be yours, then it's done. you can learn every crevice of my soul if it means you'll stay with me."

you knew it then, "i love you." you are in love.

he grabs your face and kisses you in less than a second. the kiss being so loving and careful, he takes his time memorizing your lips. he lifts you in the air prompting you to wrap your legs around his waist. from there, the kiss molds into passion and need. before you know it, you're both lying on the bed with him hovering over you.

aaron groans into your mouth, "say it again."

you softly giggle, "i love you."

"god, you have no idea what you just unleashed, amor."

your stomach is doing a million glips. your entire body is in frenzy. you're ready to have a heart attack there and then. it was only just the beginning as well.

"lift your hips for me, amor."

"c'mon, angel, don't get shy on me now."

"i'm afraid you're never getting rid of me now mi amor."

very long night.

you slept through most of the morning, only woken up by aaron laying kissing down your neck. then he started going lower down your body. any sleep you had was now gone.

"aaron.. what are you doing."

"nothing."

"liar."

"shhh.. you just lay there, i'm just going to enjoy my breakfast."

the man was insaitable; you were sure you weren't ever gonna get out of bed that day. but eventually, you did. had to dedicate half an hour to walking properly again.

you went to you rfinal fitting for suits, and the new look was incredible. juliette traded the purple for a new black suit - kenji not liking his color stolen.

"why am i the only one in color now?"

"so, you can get spotted and shot at first while the rest of us get away." kenji answers.

"you're the worst."

aaron walked up behind you and whispered in your ear, "how quickly can you take this off?"

you smack his chest and give a playful disapproving look.

"i mean, it definitely can stay on, too."

"aaron!"

the bliss of everything helped ease your nerves for the following day. you were sat in aaron's room going over the plan for the millionth time. aaron kept reassuring you you'd be perfect and worrying will do nothing but install fear.

"it's just... what if it backfires. what if no one listens or surrenders?"

"it wont and they will."

"you're right. i'll just tell them my scary boyfriend will come after them."

"for you? always." he kisses your cheek, "i like the sound of you saying boyfriend, but scary?"

"well, everyone besides me is pretty scared of you."

"and what about you, what do you think of me?"

"i think you're cute."

"cute? yeah, let me show you just how cute, i can be."

aaron can never take his off of you for too long.

the next day, you, juliette, and the others stood in front of sector 45. both the people and the soldiers gathered there, all of their eyes fixed on your group. it was like the world's largest show and tell.

aaron started it off with a speech, informing everyone of the truth and the fact you and juliette were alive and well. then your sister took over, and directly told the crowd the plan to destroy the reestablishment, you gave a few words of your own, but juliette did most of the talking much to your relief.

then the questions from the crowd starting, so it was time for the group to showcase their powers. finally it was down to juliette and you.

juliette climbed to a building s good hundred feet from the ground, then jumped off and landed - making the ground tremble and shatter beneath her.

"how the hell do i top that?" you whisper to yourself.

with a comforting look from aaron, and a deep breath, you stepped into the front. you looked for a fairly easy but impressive thing to lift and spotted a very tall tower. bingo.

using your ability, you began carefully levitating it above the ground. you closed your hand into a fist, and the tower began breaking into bits. people began to panic as the rubble started coming toward them, but suddenly, you transformed the pieces into butterflies flying around the people. everyone looking around in amazement.

you took the biggest deep breath once you were done. very happy your practice paid off, and you didn't accidentally end up killing a crowd.

the crowd cheered and roared. the presentation proved to be successful because they got on board with destroying the reestablishment. the soldiers surrendered and joined the rebellion.

back in the training room, everyone was overjoyed with the success of overtaking sector 45, but now came the hardest part. winning a war.

juliette ran straight to you, attacking you in a very strong hug. so strong you had to tell her to chill on the power a bit. she apologized and released you. the recent events were still reeling in your mind, not fully comprehended.

"oh my god, juliette what did we just do?"

"we just started a war my dearest sister."

and now you had to wait to face anderson in likely a day or two. he almost killed you last time. but you wouldn't let him get lucky again.

the group, minus aaron, sat in the training room discussing what was next. one talk to another led to the topic of anderson.

"i've never even met the guy. wonder what he's like?"

"he's handsome. it's actually insane how evil, but striking he is." you blurt out.

juliette agrees, but the group looks at you weirdly.

"dude, you just called your boyfriend's dad attractive."

"what? i don't mean it in a weird way."

"hey, at least you've got a backup option if the first anderson doesn't work out. "

you throw a pillow at kenji's head.

then the topic of anderson's name came about, and that's when the trouble began. adam answered his name was paris; but suddenly, aaron arrived in the room, overhearing the conversation.

aaron put him against the wall, interrogated him on how he knew, and adam not saying anything. you couldn't take it anymore, so you yelled out the truth.

"he's your bother!"

aaron didn't believe it. juliette kept pressuring adam until he finally confessed. everyone gave the two of them space to work things out as everyone else busied themselves. when all was on steady terms, aaron sat with you.

"you should've told me."

"i know, i'm sorry. but it really wasn't my secret to tell."

"i had a right to know."

"c'mon, if you had some sort of family secret of mine, would you tell me right away?"

he hesitates, "you're right. you didn't want to get involved, i understand that."

you tell yourself it didn't matter, but you couldn't help but ask, did he deliberately avoid answering. you brush it off, probably nothing.

you returned to aaron's room, you both talked about the brother situation more, and aaron mentioned spending more time with both kent's. you were happy to see he was content to learn about his new family and want to see them more.

"this is great. i'm happy when you're happy. it's deserve more close people in your life."

"but i have you, and that's enough."

"very sweet, but family relationships are different. i was fortunate to have a sister in my life. what if my mother hadn't had the both of us, juliette not being my sister? seems unimaginable.."

aaron goes rigid, being in his lap, you notice immediately, "you alright?"

he relaxes and nods, "this whole situation has me a bit disorientated. enough brother talk. let me remind you why our relationship has much better advantages than other ones.."

a full night of sleep was just a foreign concept at this point.

it took one day for anderson to come to the sector. you all had luckily kind of prepared for it, so there was a plan set that you all were to follow. kenji, juliette, and you were responsible for going to the ship to deal with anderson while the rest took care of the matter on land.

before separating, you said your farewell and good luck to aaron. you tried to cry when saying goodbye to james and promising all would be fine. lastly, you gave aaron a kiss, and you promised each other to be safe.

"i have no doubts that you will succeed. my father can't even fathom the power you possess."

as you three board the port, you notice the massive groups of soldiers. juliette has the idea of you pushing them into the water with your powers, which you do.

you each take turns getting onto the ship, 5-second gap each. however, once you get inside, you can't find neither juliette or kenji. still invisible, you take your chances going through different doors, trying not alert soldiers.

but it fails because bullets began shooting in your direction. you run as fast as you can; unlike juliette, you are not invincible neither was your suit, at least not entirely.

with your invisibility gone, you get cornered with at least 7 soldiers, armed. your instincts kick in, and you start throwing men and attacking them with your energy. one soldier begins shooting at you when you're caught off guard. you hold your hand out as a protection and close your eyes, but you see the bullet is stopped - by your shield. you hadn't even made an effort to create it yet, and it presented itself like it was an automatic presence.

after witnessing that, the guard abandoned the ship and ran off. you couldn't blame him; you doubt he got paid enough to deal with all this.

you attention is shifted when you heard loud crashes and screams. you recognize them as your friend and your sister. you rush toward the room where the sound was originating.

you see kenji on the ground in pain and juliette not too far off; she's crouched down, clutching her head, and struggling to stand. you spot anderson, with another man, who you recognize is causing juliette's pain with his sonic wave gift.

you focus your energy on the boy, focusing on hurting him. then he stops his pressure waves and starts howling in pain, crouching down like juliette had. you were in a trance, channeling all your energy into hurting the guy, then - you snapped his neck.

you ran to juliette first, helping her get up, then you checked on kenji who was in worse shape.

anderson drew his gun, and started shooting bullets at you both, but it simply just bounced off. you and juliette drew your own weapons; you looked at each other and knew what had to happen next.

you focus your energy on anderson, his legs then collapse under him. he starts scrambling on the ground. juliette steps on his hands - shattering his borns with her power.

"remember that lesson on justice getting served?"

you shoot him in the chest, and juliette aims for his head.

4 shots - one for adam, one for aaron, one for juliette, and one for you.

it was a blur after that. sara and sonya were found and attended to kenji who was luckily not in any fatal condition, he would be okay.

it felt like you were experiencing someone out-of-body, unreal. juliette went up to the speaker system, capable of speaking to the entirety of the sector. she announced the end of the reestablishment and its new leader.

he was dead. it was over.

still bloodied and bruised, you stood on the tallest tower of the compound. you hadn't talked to anyone; everyone too busy rejoicing. but you were still digesting everything that had just happened.

you look over the new land and wonder what could be in store next.

you're not surprised when juliette and aaron find you, they know you too well at this point. they don't say anything and each take a side next to you. aaron puts a hand around your waist and tugs you toward him.

"the entire rest of the world is coming after us now, you know."

"i'd love to see them try." juliette says confidently.

"i believe as long as our bonds remain strong, we can overcome anything." though. that wasn't how you really felt.

you didn't want to damper a glorious day. but you couldn't help the pit forming inside of your stomach, telling you this was only the beginning of a treacherous path.

but nothing come could destroy the bonds you forged, right?

@whatsupb18 @letspretendimnottrash @heart-an0n @mrsspector-grant @kikilarast10 @nina357 @lupinswolfsbanes (tysm for the support)

[castle-of-ruin]

Reacher Comes to Visit 1

A/N: Well, here I am again. Dipping my feet into the waters of posting content on Tumblr again. This time, it's for my beloved Reacher. A character that I have grown ridiculously attached to thanks to Alan Ritchson 🤭. This story is based very loosely on the contents of the show but does not actually tie into the show. All things that happen in this story are strictly made up. Big shoutout to @quaritchscupquake and @cryingwriter, convincing me to post this.

Pairing: Jack Reacher x f!reader

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Warnings: Mutual pining? Size kink if you squint? Reacher being Reacher. This part is pretty tame. Mentions of food and injury. Character has a nickname, but not too many defining characteristics.

A/N 2: Please let me know if I miss any content warnings. I want to make sure it's properly tagged.

I do not condone the reposting of my story anywhere. DO NOT DO IT

Visual inspiration for anyone who cares. This is a very pretty gif. Thank you, @hunnam , for creating it!

The tv plays softly in the background as you float around your home cleaning up as you go. It was your favorite movie, one you have been watching since you were a little kid. The musical soundtrack was by far one of the best you have ever heard. Even now as an adult, you found so much joy and comfort in the movie and its music. Your night is rudely interrupted when a loud knock resounds off the walls of your house. Jumping, you grab your remote and pause the movie. Tilting your head, you make your way to the front door, you were not expecting any visitors.

Opening the door you freeze, heating finding its way into every part of your body. None other than Jack Reacher was standing opposite you beaten and bloody, however, this time he had friends. Two years ago Reacher saved your life: twice. Then the two of you spent one hell of a weekend together, and then he left, and you had not heard from him in two years. For him to be on your front porch unannounced after two years made you feel something you didn’t expect. You were mad at him, but part of you understood that is who Reacher was, a drifter moving place to place no one and nothing holding him down.

You stare up at the large man unable to form any words. Neagley, you remember her from before, steps forward and gives you a tight smile.

“Sorry to show up unannounced, Hawk,” She references the nickname she gave you. “We ran into some trouble and need a safe place to lay low for the night.” Neagley, as usual, is straight and to the point.

This was something you appreciate about her. Taking in the tired faces of the two other members of their group you let out a deep sigh and move to the side motioning them in.

You stand in the doorway leading to the living room and watch as three of them settle into your house comfortably. Reacher stands on the opposite side of the room and watches you.

“This is O’Donnell and Dixon, two of our old team mates.” Neagley speaks up, breaking the silence.

“Nice to meet you both.” You tell them with a small smile.

“Why does Neagley call you Hawk?” O’Donnell asks.

“She’s observant.” Reacher pipes in, folding his arms over his broad chest as he leans against the wall.

You avert your eyes from his stare, turning your head down towards the floor.

“I only have one extra bedroom. You can fight over who gets it. Make yourselves comfortable. I’ll go get some pillows and extra blankets,” You pause as you look over them. “I can also run to the store and grab some robes for you all to wear so I can wash your clothes. If that is something you are interested in.” You finish looking at each of them individually.

“That sounds amazing. Thank you.” Dixon speaks up first. O’Donnell nods his head softly and settles deeper into the couch.

“That would be great, Hawk, thank you.” Neagley states.

Nodding you make your way out of the living room and back towards the front door where you grab your purse and keys before heading out the door. Leaving strangers in your house probably wasn’t the best of ideas, but you knew Reacher and Neagley. You knew they were safe.

Your trip to the store was rather quick, you try not to draw attention to yourself, but it was hard when you were getting four bathrobes all in a different size. You just smile awkwardly at the cashier who checks you out. Speeding home you mentally prepare yourself for the night to come.

When you make your way back into the house all four of them turn to look at you.

“Okay, each of you can have a hot shower, then bring me your clothes and once I have them all I will throw them in the wash for all of you. Anyone hungry?” You ask.

“I am,” Reacher shrugs. You nod and look at the others who nod in unison. This wasn’t a talkative bunch which you were thankful for.

“Okay, decide the order for showers and I will get started on food. The robes are in this bag.” You instruct, dropping the bag on the vacant chair.

You head to the kitchen and prepare dinner for the four of them, you had eaten earlier that night and were not hungry. The room suddenly felt smaller and you knew who was there with you.

“You look good.” He tells you quietly coming up behind you.

You close your eyes as a shiver runs the length of your spine. Even after all this time he was still imprinted in your senses. Turning, you lean against the counter and look up at him. Taking in the wet patch on his left side, which you assumed was blood, and the bruise under his left eye.

“You look like hell.” Your words have a smile pulling at Reacher’s lips.

He doesn’t say anything else after that, just shakes his head and leaves the kitchen. After some time food is ready and three out of four of them have showered.

“Okay, food is ready, come eat.” You instruct, smiling as you watch all four of them eagerly make their way to the dining room to eat.

“Thank you!” Dixon yells.

“Yeah, thanks this is good food.” O’Donnell nods.

You smile at them and nod your head. “It’s my pleasure. I will be in my room if anyone needs me. Just knock.” You tell them, excusing yourself to your room.

Flopping on the bed you stare up at the ceiling. Memories from two years ago running freely in your head. A quiet knock pulls you out of your thoughts. Looking to the door you see Reacher standing there. Sitting up you tilt your head.

“Everything okay?” You ask.

“Yeah, you said if anyone needed you just knock. I knocked.” He shrugs, and you stifle a laugh.

“Well, you’re the reason I can not start the load of laundry. Get it together Reacher.” You tease.

“Right, I’ll be back.” He states and leaves.

You shake your head and let out a groan. He was going to be the death of you. There weren’t many people in this world who consumed your thoughts freely, but he did ever since he saved your life, and fucked you better than any man ever had. You shake your head, now probably wasn’t the best time to think about that.

Not long after Reacher had left another quiet knock could be heard. When he enters your room he takes up the doorway with his large frame. You take in the way the dark robe holds on for dear life, like it was on the verge of ripping as it stretched thin over his broad shoulders.

“Everything is in your laundry room and ready for you.” He states.

Getting up you nod. “Okay, thank you. That robe is holding on for dear life.” You can’t contain the giggle that bubbles up in your chest.

He looks down at the robe. “I think they left me the smallest one on purpose.” He grumbles. You giggle again and he gives you a dirty look.

“I’ll be right back. Gonna go start the load.” You tell him.

"Is it okay for me to stay here?” He asks.

You look at him for a moment. “Yes.”

Going out you make your way to the laundry room and throw all of the clothes into the wash and start it. You poke your head into the living room on the way back where the others are still sitting talking quietly amongst themselves.

“Hey, once the washer beeps, one of you can put the clothes in the dryer. I’ll be in my room if you need me. Goodnight.” You tell them.

Entering your room you smile upon seeing Reacher asleep on your bed. He made your queen size bed appear small and you chuckle to yourself at that. Going over to your dresser you pull pjs out of your drawer and go into the adjacent bathroom. Closing the door softly you strip and turn the water on. A quiet sigh passes your lips as the water bears down on your back. After your shower you get dressed and head back out into your bedroom. Reacher is awake now and watches as you exit a cloud of steam pouring out behind you.

You get into bed and lay on your side looking over at Reacher. He turns so he is facing you.

“Two years is a long time.” You whisper, reaching out and hovering your hand over his arm. You weren’t sure if you should touch him.

He answers your internal question by grabbing your right hand with his right and guiding it to his shoulder. The fabric is soft beneath your fingers, but part of you wished it was his skin you were touching.

“I know, I’m sorry we didn’t call first before just showing up. I knew you were safe and just brought them here.” He reaches out and grabs your hip, pulling you closer.

“Not tonight. You need to sleep. Something tells me your life is about to be in danger, again. See it as an incentive to come back alive.” You tell him, placing your hand on his somewhat exposed chest. Enjoying the warmth that fills your fingertips.

“Can I kiss you? Just once?” He asks, cupping your cheek softly in his large hand.

You nod and close your eyes. His lips are warm against yours, and just like you remembered, soft, yet rough. The kiss was short, sweet, and full of an unspoken promise. He pulls you into him and tucks you into his side beneath the covers. You find yourself snuggling into him and closing your eyes. The warmth from his body spreads through you.

“Goodnight, Reacher.”

“Goodnight, Hawk.” You smile at him using the nickname as well.

Tomorrow, things will surely be different. Tomorrow, the threat was to be dealt with. Tomorrow, the outcome was unknown.

Uh, I'm gonna tag some folks. Maybe you'll like to see it :)

@obiknights @a-reader-and-a-writer @chelseasdagger @gemstone-roses @cryingwriter @quaritchscupquake @supernaturaldawning @xxidontwikeitxx @spnshortcake

[pinchofhoney]

Because I wanna spread the "we need more Belphagor" message, how about something with him? Platonic or romantic is your choice but we need more content for him bc he's so :))))

on the verge of a fever

belphegor x fem!reader

word count: 2.7k

warning: the way his character appears in the show has been changed for the purposes of this story; basically, here god is not trying to ruin the whole world, mention of drinking alcohol

summary: Ever wondered if Hell hosts Monopoly nights?

a/n: belphagor is my spirit animal. when you text me, it's the person who writes you back lmao my profile currently looks like a fan club of your requests, but it's not my fault that my obsession with this series is back and you're the only one with ideas related to it. i hope you enjoy it!!<33

pages that may interest you: masterlist ♡ taglist ♡ who i write for

gif is not mine, credit to the owner

Guiding Sam and Dean towards the bunk stairs, you couldn't help but notice the genuine concern etched on Sam's face. He leaned in, his tone brimming with sincere care, and gently reminded you, “You know, if you ever need a hand, just remember that Castiel is just a phone call away.”

This morning's awakening had thrown you a curveball. At first, you brushed off the strange sensations coursing through your body, thinking they were caused by the aging mattress beneath you. Yet, with each passing moment, that peculiar feeling escalated into something far more troubling. It clung to you like an insistent itch, impossible to ignore, casting an unsettling shadow over your day.

Now, wrapped snugly in the comforting cocoon of your soft, pink blanket, you found yourself ensnared in the relentless grip of a fever. Your body radiated heat, and every movement became a battle against the oppressive weight of illness. The sole lifeline keeping you tethered to the realm of the living was the medication within easy reach.

Summoning a faint smile, you struggled to reassure Sam, who always kept a watchful eye, despite the fatigue evident in your voice. “I'll handle it,” you whispered, your words carrying a hint of exhaustion.

Trying to make the serious mood a bit lighter, you couldn't resist adding a touch of playful sarcasm. “Well, maybe you should head out before your God buddy decides it's time to disappear once again.”

After saying goodbye to the Winchesters, you headed back to your bed. You didn't want to bother Castiel with your problems; you knew he had more important things to worry about than a grown-up hunter catching a simple cold.

As you entered your room, you couldn't help but grumble to yourself. Why did it seem like Sam and Dean never got sick? You were used to risking your life to hunt supernatural creatures, and now, on top of that, you had to deal with a fever. It just didn't seem fair. You plopped down on the edge of your bed, feeling frustrated. This illness was not only physically uncomfortable but also a reminder that even tough hunters like you had to face everyday human struggles.

Ridiculous, you thought.

You took a quick look on the mirror standing in the corner, then let out a sigh of annoyance and laid down on your bed, giving in to a sense of resignation. You didn't even notice when you drifted off to sleep.

Hours later, you slowly opened your eyes, hoping to find some relief from the persistent illness that had plagued you. However, as your vision cleared, you realized that you felt even worse than before. It was as if the fever had intensified during your restless slumber, wrapping you in a suffocating embrace.

With a groan of discomfort, you pushed yourself upright, your head pounding with every movement. The room seemed dimmer, and the last rays of daylight coming from the corridor appeared harsh and unforgiving. Your throat was parched, and your limbs felt heavy as if they were made of lead.

Casting a rueful glance at the clock, you realized that time had slipped away during your troubled nap. It was as though the fever had stolen not only your strength but also precious hours from your day.

You came close to grabbing your phone and calling Castiel, but you resisted, refusing to give in to a moment of vulnerability – or so you tried to convince yourself.

Struggling considerably, you managed to shift your legs off the bed and, with an effort that would make an elderly man with mobility issues proud, you stood up. Your own sigh of discomfort mirrored the sound one might expect from someone in such a situation. You briefly caught a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror, mentally noting how pitiful you appeared, before making your way into the hallway, your feet dragging wearily behind you.

The bunker had settled into an eerie quietness, broken only by the weighty sound of your footsteps. As you made your way into the main room, your initial plan to head to the opposite corridor was interrupted by an abrupt rustling in a dimly lit corner of the space.

Your tired eyes strained to identify the source of this disturbance. Could it be a mere product of your fevered imagination? You wouldn't be surprised if your illness had started playing tricks on your mind. After all, nobody else was supposed to be allowed in the vast bunker.

And then, right there, bathed in the soft, muted glow of the bunker's emergency lighting, stood a figure you never anticipated encountering. Your heart skipped a beat, your breath caught in your throat, and your fever-addled brain could only muster one thought; Jack. Why was he here? What was happening? Wasn't he...?

“Jack?” you questioned hesitantly, your gaze darting around the room in search of some evidence that you were still ensnared in a dream.

The figure before you smirked. It wasn't the gentle, innocent smile of Jack. It was something darker, more twisted. Your fevered mind raced to find an explanation. Maybe it was the fever. Yes, that had to be it. You were conjuring this surreal scene in your delirium.

“Hello,” greeted the boy, lifting his right hand in a welcoming gesture, mirroring the way Jack used to.

Confusion knitted your brows as you unconsciously took a cautious step toward this familiar-looking stranger, clutching your blanket tightly around you. Your scrutiny intensified as you examined him closely. The person before you was dressed in the same attire as the last time you saw Jack, but it couldn't possibly be him. Jack Kline had met his demise, so why was he standing before you now?

Your gaze wandered to the sunglasses perched on the boy's face, and you couldn't help but shake your head with a hint of amusement. You swiftly turned away, fully convinced that your need for medication was far more pressing than entertaining these unsettling hallucinations. As you made your determined exit, you could almost hear a faint chuckle from behind you.

“Leaving so soon? And here I was, hoping for some company,” the boy, or rather, the entity inhabiting the boy's body, remarked with a sly grin, his voice dripping with faux disappointment. His sunglasses hid the fiery void that should have been his eyes, concealing his true nature as he attempted to blend in.

You paused, feeling an inexplicable mix of curiosity and unease. There was something off about this whole situation, and it wasn't just the fact that you were conversing with someone who looked like Jack but couldn't possibly be him. The aura this stranger exuded was friendly yet laced with an unsettling undercurrent of something more sinister.

“Why are you here?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly despite your best efforts to maintain composure.

The boy's smile widened, revealing a veneer of friendliness that barely concealed his sadistic amusement. “Oh, I was getting dreadfully bored down in Hell. Thought I'd stretch my legs, so to speak.”

His casual tone and the way he spoke about Hell as if it were a mundane inconvenience sent a shiver down your spine. This was no ordinary encounter, and you couldn't help but wonder if your fever had conjured up this bizarre scenario.

“I'm Belphegor,” the demon chimed in, noting your dubious expression. “Just a temporary tenant, you know? This body was basically vacant real estate, so I thought, 'Why not?' I mean, squatters' rights and all,” he quipped, nonchalantly shrugging his shoulders as if discussing his choice of a new apartment. His grin remained as inscrutable as ever, a blend of friendly and utterly unsettling.

You couldn't help but raise an incredulous eyebrow at the demon's cavalier attitude. This was a new low, even for the world you lived in.

“Squatters' rights, huh?” you muttered, not sure whether to be amused or deeply disturbed by his casual demeanor. “Well, congratulations on your, uh, new accommodations.”

Belphegor chuckled, the sound a disconcerting blend of mirth and something far more alarming. “Thanks, I think it suits me. But, you know, I'm not all that bad once you get to know me,” he added with a wicked grin, as if trying to convince you that sharing a body with a demon was just a quirky and harmless coincidence.

Your instincts told you otherwise, and you couldn't help but wonder how deeply the Winchesters were embroiled in whatever bizarre deal this demon had cooked up.

“So, um,” you began, feeling a little like you were fumbling through a conversation with a distant relative you'd rather not acknowledge at a family reunion. The situation was beyond awkward, standing there face-to-face with a demon who had chosen to squat in a body you knew all too well. “Care for a drink?”

If you could, you would have rolled your eyes right then and there, but you had to maintain some semblance of composure. You knew you should be taking action, maybe calling the brothers or attempting to exorcise Belphegor, but your phone was conveniently left behind in your room, and it seemed that the universe had a thing against including demon-killing pockets in your pajamas.

Belphegor's lips curved into a wicked smile, his amusement clear despite the sunglasses concealing his eyes. “Well, aren't you the hospitable one,” he quipped, as if being invited for a drink by the friend of his borrowed body was a regular occurrence.

You couldn't help but chuckle nervously, the absurdity of the situation sinking in. “I figure if I can't beat the demon, I might as well join it for a drink,” you replied with a wry grin, attempting to keep things light, even though your mind was racing with thoughts of what to do next.

As you both made your way to the kitchen, you couldn't shake the feeling that you were walking on thin ice, navigating a situation that seemed to defy all logic. Sharing a drink with a demon in your pajamas was definitely not how you had planned to spend your day, but sometimes, but sometimes you had to improvise.

Entering the kitchen, you were determined to play it cool, all the while keeping a close eye on the boy. You grabbed a bottle of Dean's favorite liquor from the cabinet, figuring that if this was going to be a bizarre demon rendezvous, you might as well make it a memorable one.

“Here's to unexpected company,” you said with a somewhat forced cheerfulness as you poured two glasses, trying your best to hide the anxiety gnawing at your nerves.

Belphegor accepted the drink with a bemused nod, raising his glass in a mock toast. “To unlikely alliances,” he replied, his tone dripping with amusement.

While he was distracted with his drink, you seized the opportunity to grab a glass of water and discreetly pop a couple of fever-killing pills. You hoped that once the medication kicked in, the demon might just decide to take his leave, making this weird encounter nothing more than a fever-induced hallucination.

Sipping your water and pretending to engage in the odd conversation, you silently counted the minutes until the medication would hopefully bring some relief.

As the time passed, you couldn't shake the feeling that this encounter was all too real. The fever medication had begun to work its magic, and you felt a wave of dizziness wash over you, courtesy of the combination of drugs and alcohol. Your head was spinning like a top, and you realized that your attempt to blend in and have a normal conversation with a demon was spiraling into absurdity.

“So,” you slurred slightly, trying to focus your blurry gaze on Belphegor, “what's it like down there in Hell? I mean, besides the whole eternal torment thing. Do you guys have, like, a book club or a knitting circle to pass the time?”

Belphegor raised an eyebrow, his amusement evident even through those opaque sunglasses. “Well, it's not all fire and brimstone, you know,” he replied with a mock-serious tone, playing along with your bizarre line of questioning. “We do have our demon potlucks, and occasionally, a game night with some fiendishly fun board games.”

You couldn't help but giggle at the mental image of demons huddled around a Monopoly board in Hell. The combination of fever-induced delirium and the surrealness of the situation had turned the conversation into a comical farce.

“What's your favorite board game, then?” you asked, leaning in closer as if discussing board games with a demon was the most normal thing in the world.

Belphegor chuckled, his sinister amusement undiminished. “Twister,” he replied with a sly grin, and you couldn't tell if he was joking or not.

Lost in the absurdity of your conversation with the demon, you paid little attention to the strange sounds echoing through the bunker. It was as if the very walls were whispering secrets, and you chalked it up to your fevered imagination playing tricks on you.

Belphegor was in the middle of describing a particularly demon version of a summer vacation when a sudden, unexpected voice pierced through the haze of your conversation.

“Y/N” Castiel's deep voice resonated through the kitchen, his sudden appearance causing you to jump so violently that you almost knocked over your glass.

You turned to see Castiel standing in the entrance to the kitchen, his blue eyes penetrating the sunglasses-clad Belphegor with a steely gaze. The demon's expression shifted from amusement to surprise as he realized the presence of an angel.

“Castiel!” you exclaimed, your heart racing as you struggled to regain your composure. “I, uh, didn't expect to see you here.”

Belphegor's amusement seemed to wane as he met Castiel's unwavering gaze. The room fell silent, and the atmosphere shifted from surreal absurdity to a tense standoff between angel and demon.

“What does this supposed to mean?” Castiel asked, his voice steady as he approached the countertop where you were seated, sliding a blade out of his sleeve.

You quickly rose from your seat, wanting to calm the situation. The absurdity of the situation, in which you, in a pink blanket, wanted to defend a demon who could kill you with a snap of your fingers, did not reach you.

“That's Belphegor,” you stammered, your voice wavering as confusion and uncertainty welled up. You realized you had no real justification for the demon's visit. “I-I have no idea why he's here, but he's... uh, he's cool.” Trying to defend the demon only earned you doubtful glances from both Castiel and Belphegor, making this already weird situation even more confusing.

“I've got an offer that might catch the Winchesters' attention,” the demon said as he stepped forward from behind you.

Castiel's expression darkened as he confronted the demon, anger simmering just beneath the surface. “Taking Jack's body... this is desecration,” he hissed, his voice carrying the weight of his disapproval. The angel's gaze bore into Belphegor, as if willing him to understand the gravity of his actions.

You stepped in between the two, desperately trying to ease the mounting tension. “Look, I know this is... complicated,” you began, your voice trembling slightly with the weight of the situation. “But maybe Belphegor has something important. We should hear him out before we jump to conclusions.”

Belphegor, for his part, maintained his sly grin, unfazed by Castiel's anger. “I'm just a demon trying to make the best of my situation,” he chimed in, his tone almost cheerful. “Besides, the vessel was just sitting there, collecting dust. I thought it could use some fresh air, you know.”

Castiel clenched his jaw, clearly struggling to contain his frustration. “It's not about the vessel, it's about respect and dignity.”

Before Castiel could retort further, the kitchen door swung open, and Sam and Dean walked in. Their faces registered a mix of surprise and confusion as they took in the scene before them. The room was filled with a charged silence, broken only by the creak of the door.

“What's going on in here?” Dean finally asked, breaking the awkward standoff. His gaze shifted from you to Castiel and then to Belphegor, who was still wearing that boyish grin beneath those stupid sunglasses.

[babyblue711]

Loyalty

Aemond Targaryen (HOTD) x Alys Rivers - Part 2 Including the conclusion of its sister story, Little Dragonseed Summary: Aemond, in his quest for vengeance, torches the Riverlands while Alys is but an unwilling passenger with a burning secret of her own. Meanwhile, back at Harrenhal, the little maid waits for her rescuer, but war-torn Westeros may have other plans in store for her. Words: 3.6K

Chapter Warnings: NSFW, Sexual Content 18+, Canon Divergence, War things A/N: As noted, there is canon divergence in this story; there is no Sabitha Frey, and, for the purpose of this tale, the timeline may be a little wonky. Perhaps it's just me, but I broke my own heart writing this. I hope you all enjoy. Comments, reblogs, thoughts, opinions are welcome and appreciated 😘 💙 And, thank you, to my amazing beta reader and incredible gif maker, @myfandomprompts who made the Aemond banner for me.

<<< Part 1

They flew.

And the realm burned.

And on they soared upon ancient wings… 

And burned. Burned. Burned.

Any settlement in the Riverlands sworn to Queen Rhaenyra met their downfall, becoming kindling for Aemond’s wrath. Nothing could stand against Vhagar’s flames as she left ashes and despair in their wake. 

Riding on dragonback was a breathtaking experience; there was an exhilarating power in soaring through the sky, close to the heavens, far removed from the hellish war-torn realm below. But she could not enjoy it, her awe was constantly overshadowed by Aemond’s unyielding anger.

He had brought her along purposefully, but for all the notice he took of her, she might as well have been invisible and her attempts at calming his relentless rage were futile. He seemed interested in one thing and one thing only: her visions of the future and the path he should take forward. When she couldn’t summon an immediate answer, his response was simply to enact revenge on the supporters of the Black Queen. Unable to sway him, she remained silent, an unwilling passenger caught in the storm of his vengeance.

They did not return to Harrenhal and, instead, survived off the land. Luckily, she possessed a deep knowledge of edible plants and fungi and they had no trouble catching game. They bathed in a freshwater river and, in the evenings, Vhagar’s fiery breath cooked their suppers and provided warmth against the chill of the night. 

Aemond barely spoke to her, his mind consumed by grief and rage, his ego shattered by Daemon and the black faction at the insurmountable loss of King’s Landing. The once prideful, arrogant young man was becoming a shadow of the fierce prince she had known, his calculating eye now vacant and haunted as he worried obsessively about what had become of his family he left behind.

During one of their many silent nights, as they sat around the fire, the urge to speak to him gnawed at her. She knew she should tell him the truth, but the timing felt impossibly wrong. 

She needed to tell him that they had succeeded. She had suspected for a little while now, but wanted to wait to make absolutely sure. Now that time had passed, it was hard to keep this knowledge to herself.

But how could she share this revelation when his heart was still so torn? She watched him from across the fire, his face illuminated by the dancing flames, feeling the weight of her secret press down on her. 

She took a deep breath, steeling herself for the inevitable. “My prince,” she began softly, her voice almost swallowed by the crackling fire. He glanced at her, his expression unreadable. “There’s something you need to know…”

“A vision?” he asked, immediately perking up, his interest piqued. She pressed her lips together as she moved around the fire to sit on his good side; Would that be all he would ever care about? Is that all she meant to him? 

She chose not to voice these thoughts, instead gently taking his warm hand into her own. Her touch seemed to surprise him, a flicker of emotion crossing his face; they had not been intimate since they left Harrenhal. He turned to look at her fully for the first time in what felt like ages and she felt breathless under the intensity of his gaze, as if he were truly seeing her again.  

“No… not quite,” she replied, trying not to feel discouraged as she saw his face fall. She decided to get it over with quickly, the words tumbling from her mouth. “I…I am with child. Your child, my prince.” She placed her free hand over her lower belly for emphasis, giving him a small smile at this precious news, waiting with bated breath for his reaction.

Aemond's gaze hardened, his eye narrowing as he processed her words. His nostrils flared, and a tense silence hung between them, the crackling of the fire the only sound. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears as she waited for him to speak.

“Ar– are you not pleased? Your bloodline will endure…” she started to say, her voice faltering.

“A bastard. That is what we have made together,” he interrupted, disappointment etched into every line of his exquisite face as his frown deepened, twisting his sensuous lips into a grimace as his words cut through her like a knife.

“Aemond,” she began again, her voice more determined, “this child is part of your legacy. The blood of the dragon flows through his veins. Does that not mean something to you?”

He pulled his hand away from hers, standing up abruptly and pacing by the fire, his mind clearly torn.

“Legacy…” he mutters, almost to himself. “What legacy do I leave in this world of ashes and betrayal? My family doesn’t even know about you…what would my mother say– ?”

She rose to her feet, moving towards him, needing him to understand.

“Their opinions matter little now, what’s done is done. A child is a blessing, Aemond, no matter who its parents are,” Alys said softly but firmly, running her hand over his arm and feeling relief when he doesn’t pull away. “I implore you to listen to me. I carry the child of Aemond Targaryen, Prince Regent of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm, and Dragonrider of the mighty Vhagar. If it bothers you that we are unmarried then do what’s best for the sake of your son, Aemond. Marry me,” she pleads, her eyes shining with sincerity. “I long to be your loving wife, to stand by your side. I will help you achieve greatness, and ensure our child not only endures but thrives, following in your footsteps to rule the Seven Kingdoms. Together, we can end this war.”

Aemond looked lost, his gaze still fixed on the dancing flames of the fire, the light flickering across his face, highlighting the lines of worry and doubt etched into his features.

“How do you know I will rule?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, tinged with uncertainty.

“I have seen it, my prince,” Alys replied, her tone filled with conviction. She leaned closer, her hand still resting on his arm, drawing strength from the contact.

“Daemon is your one last, true foe. You will defeat him, how could you not? He is old and well past his prime. Caraxes is no match for the might of Vhagar. I have seen your victory in the clouds when we fly high on Vhagar’s back. There will be a battle above a great lake; I have seen him fall into the water and be swallowed by their depths.” Her voice gained a fervent edge as she continued, painting a vivid picture of the future she envisioned. “You will rule and be a mighty king, my prince, and I already carry your son and heir.”

Aemond's expression remained conflicted, but there was a spark of something in his eye—hope, perhaps, or a glimmer of belief. Alys could see the battle within him, the struggle between his self-doubt and the destiny she foretold. She pressed on, her hand moving to gently cup his scarred cheek, forcing him to meet her gaze.

“You are destined for greatness, Aemond. Together, we can shape the future of the Seven Kingdoms. After Daemon is finished, we will go to King’s Landing and rescue your mother and sister within; they are still alive, I know it. Trust in me, trust in us.”

For a moment, silence hung heavy in the air, the only sound the crackling of the fire. Then, slowly, Aemond lifted his hand to cover hers, a sign of his acceptance as his eye finally softened. His grip was firm as he bent to kiss her sweetly on the lips, which she immediately deepened, starving for his touch and affection. 

“Alright then…for our child,” Aemond said with conviction as he pulled away, his singular violet eye alight with fire once more, alive with passion, fueled with purpose.  

With only Vhagar as their witness, they stood beneath the open sky and recited the ancient marriage ritual of House Targaryen, their voices steady and resolute, echoing the vows of his ancestors. 

For a moment, war and destruction, heartache and pain seemed to fall away as they found solace in each other’s arms. Aemond's touch was gentle, his fingers trailing softly over her skin as if memorizing every inch of her. He made love to her with reverence, with such a tenderness it was as if she was suddenly made of glass. The world outside ceased to exist as they lost themselves in each other, their bodies entwined in a rhythm of love and passion.

For the first time in what feels like an eternity, Aemond allowed himself a moment of happiness. His usual mask of sternness and determination melted away, replaced by a genuine smile as he thought of his son. He looked at Alys with true affection, his hand moving to rest on her still flat belly. She could see the wonder in his eye, the silent imagining of her swollen with his child, a symbol of their union and the future they hoped to build together.

Basking in his tender affection, her heart swelled with love and gratitude. She returned his caresses, her hands moving over his strong back, tracing the contours of his muscles. As Aemond placed a gentle kiss on her abdomen, she sighed with deep contentment, enjoying his bare skin on hers, the feeling of his seed leaking from between her thighs, the burning of the fire in her lower belly as the blood of the dragon nestled within. It is the most loved and cherished she had ever felt in her entire life.

Back at Harrenhal, the little maid waited anxiously. A few days before, the Prince Regent and the witch had fled together after news of King’s Landing's fall reached them. Ser Criston Cole had taken the green army south to join the Hightowers, leaving Harrenhal unguarded and eerily quiet. Now was the most opportune time for Daemon to rescue her, but she had no way to send word to him; she wasn’t even sure of his whereabouts.

So she waited and prayed fervently that her father would come for her. But her prayers were laced with a growing worry.

She worried because her moon's blood was late and she was never late. Despite drinking the tea the witch had given her, she had only had that one cup and now questioned its effectiveness. Was it enough? There was no one left to ask or to make more for her.

She worried because she felt cramping in her lower abdomen without any sign of bleeding. She worried because ordinary smells now made her nauseous, her breasts were constantly sore, and still, her blood did not come. 

One evening, unable to hold back her fears any longer, she broke down and confided in the matron, her surrogate mother that she loved dearly and who she had failed miserably by letting Aemond take advantage of her. The matron listened intently, a deep frown etched between her eyebrows, but she wasn’t angry or disappointed in the maid’s confession. She was only terribly upset for what her young adopted daughter had endured at the hands of the Prince Regent.

Discreetly, the matron arranged for the maester to examine her, and he confirmed her worst fears. She was indeed pregnant; the witch’s potion had failed. His confirmation did not surprise the little maid in the slightest. She had known, deep in her heart, that she was carrying the child of the One-Eyed Prince. A child conceived not out of love, but out of revenge and hatred, shattering her innocence, leaving her to pick up the pieces alone.

The realization weighed heavily on her. What would her father say if he ever found out? Daemon Targaryen was fierce and proud, he would surely be enraged, would surely put her babe to the sword as soon as he was born and the thought horrified her beyond measure. And so she vowed never to tell him the truth. If he came for her, she would have to hide her condition, pretend to have been foolish with someone else…anyone else. 

Not long after her discovery, the haunting shriek of Caraxes pierces the silent night, announcing the return of the Rogue Prince, as he had promised. She rushes to meet him, excitement bubbling in her chest, but also a twinge of fear, knowing she now has to play her part.

Daemon looks tired and worn, the toll of the war evident in every line on his face. But when he sees her, his expression brightens.

“Little one,” he greets warmly, reaching out to embrace her in a father’s hug she has never known before. She inhales the scent of dragon and smoke clinging to his clothes, feeling a fleeting sense of safety.

“Are we leaving? I can pack my things…” she begins eagerly, her voice trailing off as she notices the sadness in his eyes.

“I’m afraid, my little dragonseed, that we cannot go,” Daemon says softly, his voice filled with regret. “I must stay here and cannot be distracted…the Queen and the realm depend on it.” Tears spring to her eyes, and he gently lifts her chin, forcing her to look at him.

“Little dragon, you must get away from here. Leave Harrenhal, this place is cursed, probably from that despicable witch,” he growls as a flicker of anger crosses his face as he remembers Alys. 

“She’s gone now…with Prince Aemond,” the little maid tries to explain, her voice trembling. “Alys is not here to make you suffer as she did before.”

Daemon frowns slightly at this unusual piece of information, that Aemond would flee with the witch of all people, but quickly returns to his original point.

“No matter. Run, flee. Do not go to the Riverlands right now; it is not safe,” he says urgently, taking her face into both of his hands and bowing his forehead against hers. His desperation is palpable and she can see the pain in his eyes, the sorrow of knowing he cannot keep his promise to take her with him.

“But how will you find me again?” she whispers, her voice breaking with emotion.

“Do not worry, my child. If I survive, I will come for you,” he promises for the second time, his voice filling with determination. Yet she can’t bring herself to believe him entirely. She knows he is here to await Prince Aemond, and the prospect of either of them surviving a battle against one another seems slim. Daemon is choosing to sacrifice himself for the good of the realm and she cannot even begin to understand how incredibly brave he is.

Her tears start to flow at this realization and she hates the thought of leaving him behind to await his fate alone, but knows she has little choice. “Where should I go?” she asks, her voice small and fearful.

“Try to avoid any large settlements on your journey. They are currently being targeted by the one-eyed welp. Head south, towards Dragonstone….those loyal to Queen Rhaenyra will help you,” he instructs.

“I don’t want to leave you,” she sobs, her hands clutching at his tunic. “I’m scared.”

Daemon’s heart breaks at her words and he strokes her hair gently, trying to soothe her. “You are strong, my little dragon. You have the blood of Old Valyria in your veins. You will survive this. You must.”

The next day dawns cold and gray, a fitting backdrop for their departure. She and the matron join a gaggle of other inhabitants all intent on fleeing the cursed castle. The little maid is glad to be free of these dark and haunted halls at last.  

Before she leaves, she embraces her father one last time. His arms around her feel strong and protective, but there is a sense of finality that she cannot ignore. She clings to him as he whispers, “Be safe,” his voice rough with emotion. 

“I will,” she promises, though her heart aches with the knowledge that this is a promise she may not be able to keep; the road is dangerous and fraught with peril. She pulls away, wiping her tears on the back of her hand, turning away from him and forcing herself not to look back.

As they leave Harrenhal behind, the group moves in silence, each lost in their own thoughts and fears. The matron walks beside her and the little maid finds herself reaching for her hand, needing reassurance just as if she was a child again. 

She wonders about their journey ahead, hoping they will settle someplace safe; she has already decided that she and the matron will raise her son together. They will find a quiet place, far from the war and destruction, and he will grow up being loved, fiercely and unconditionally. Her son will know the stories of his heritage, even if he never knows his family, and she will be certain to tell him about his brave grandfather and the legacy that flows through his royal veins. 

Alys managed to convince Aemond to delay for a day, to celebrate their union before his incessant need to return to burn the Riverlands once more. They settled in a faraway meadow, a place untouched by the war, where the air was fresh and the sounds of conflict were but a distant memory. It was a brief respite from the carnage, a stolen moment of peace. 

She devoted herself to Aemond, worshiping him with her mouth, savoring, sucking, treating him as a king should be treated. They made love countless times in the soft grass and, as before, Aemond was exceedingly gentle, his touch soft and caring as he suckled her engorged breasts. He didn’t rut into her viciously as he had been known to do in the past, instead pleasuring her with long, slow strokes, bringing her to peak with his tongue.

In those moments, he was without his eyepatch, bare and vulnerable, and she saw the man he might have been had violence not scarred his soul. If the war had never started, she thought, this was who Aemond would be. She wished with all her heart that she could bring peace to the prince’s troubled spirit. 

As they journeyed back to the Riverlands, she estimated they had been gone from Harrenhal for nearly a fortnight. Reality hit her hard as she gazed upon the war-torn realm once more and for the first time in a long while, she was hit by a multitude of visions, many which did not make any sense. She could feel the Rogue Prince’s presence, hear the shriek of his dragon in her dreams. She confessed to Aemond that they must return to Harrenhal, that they were being sought by Daemon.

While they flew, her thoughts drifted to the little maid they had left behind. She fervently hoped the potion she had given the girl had worked; the maid did not need to suffer any more than she already had. Alys could not bear the thought of another child contending for Aemond’s heart….or his legacy. She resolved to check on the girl as soon as they returned to the castle.

As they neared Harrenhal, she felt the unmistakable energy of Caraxes well before she even saw the castle, confirming her fears and driving away any other thought. She knew that this encounter was fated, that the impending clash between Aemond and Daemon was inevitable.

She kissed Aemond for good luck, her prince, her king, the father of her child. His singular eye looked at her with a fleeting softness before hardening into the mask of determination she knew so well. He mounted Vhagar with practiced ease and took to the skies in pursuit of his uncle, so sure of his victory.

High above the God’s Eye she watched their fearsome battle, fear striking deep into her heart as the dragons danced.

And then he fell…she watched in horror…no, it couldn’t be… this was not as she foretold… her beloved prince and his mighty dragon… 

Irreparably broken…

And her world shattered. 

Epilogue

A few years later, along the tranquil banks of Riverrun, a young woman walked with a woven basket in hand, occasionally bending to gather an assortment of mushrooms or plants. She hummed a light, cheerful tune, her bright blonde hair hanging loose and flowing in the warm summer breeze. Here, she no longer had to hide her true self, her bloodline, or her past.

She and the matron had made it back to Riverrun just in time for her to give birth; their journey had been long and arduous as the war raged on, but she had been relieved to finally return home. 

“Mama!” came a small voice from the riverbank. “Fish! Mama!” He pointed excitedly as she drew near and she smiled at his enthusiasm. 

“Yes, Daemon, fish,” she confirmed in a gentle, motherly voice, as she approached him and smoothed his bright blond hair.

The boy turned to her with a radiant smile, his cherubic face and round cheeks a picture of joy and health. His violet eyes always pierced her soul whenever she looked at him, the shadow of his father already prominent in his young face. He was a living, breathing reminder of Aemond, the last trace of his lineage to walk the earth. 

She watched her son affectionately as he splashed in the shallows, his laughter loud amongst the soft sounds of nature. He giggled in delight as the small fish swam around his ankles, seeming just as interested in the little boy as he was in them. As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a golden glow over the river, she held his small hand as they walked back toward home, the basket filled with the day’s harvest, her heart content. 

She hoped her father would be proud of her.

[notbadforafailedvessel]

Married Alcina/Reader

Summary: Kinda inspired by this and all those posts where reader is Alcina's teddy bear. Or, Alcina discovers that spending the night away from her partner it's not as easy as she imagined.

Tags: Fluff.

Gif Credit

Images Credit

You sighed, looking around your old room, which despite it had been so long since the last time you slept here, it was clean and tidy. Nothing else could be expected in the castle.

You understood your wife's request for tonight without making a fuss about it ─ the previous time she had extra things related to work and the village, she had been restless. You accepted that night she wouldn't take a break until she was done with what disturbed her but, selfishly, you asked her to work from your shared room and she relented.

Unintentionally, she had awoke you often during the night and even though you tried to reassure her that you didn't mind, you could see in her eyes the trouble it caused her whenever you tried to hold back a yawn or rub your eyes and you didn't want to be a reason to cause her more restlessness.

However, you implored her to work from the room again. At the very least, it would reassure you knowing that your wife was comfortably resting since you couldn't be near to take care of her.

Though it wouldn't stop the fact that you'd miss resting in her arms, lulled to sleep by her breathing and her tender caressing, cocooned warmly and safety in her embrace.

Which it's not surprising it took you a while to fall asleep.

Because with Alcina, once you finally decided to do it after exchanging some kisses or satiated your desire for each other, it was almost immediate. Alone... you had to read for a few hours, stared at nothing and rolled on the bed from side to side over and over again until you finally achieve it.

You didn't even notice what hour it was only that it happened after midnight.

What felt like minutes later, you were pulled out from your dreams by soft motion, as if your bed was moving. It took an effort to open your eyes and you managed to only half-open them, still drowsy that when you lifted your head to discover what was going on and you saw your wife, your first thought was that you were dreaming.

"Go back to sleep, iubi," Alcina whispered, kissing your hair.

Normally, you would obey instinctively, and your body was more than willing to do it since you closed your eyes and leaned against the woman's bosom, but when you were carefully laid on the bed (making a complaining sound from being pulled away from your favorite pillow), you fleetingly looked around, hoping to see the vanity (from where you have removed Alcina's things to make space for whatever she would use to work) vacant, pointing out your wife had finished her tasks but the vanity was full of papers, and not in the way she organized them when she was done with her duties.

So you were pleasantly surprised when seconds later, Alcina joined you in the bed, wrapping and arm around your waist, pulling you towards her, no leaving a gap between your bodies.

You closed your eyes, sighing contently when Alcina buried her nose in the crook of your neck, nuzzling the skin softly before peppering tender kisses.

"You missed me," you whispered after a moment, feeling a little bit more awake, enough to connect the dots.

Alcina didn't answer, and you knew she would wear a deadpanned expression if you faced her, a gesture she took whenever she didn't want to admit someone else was right. Her only response was to sink her teeth into your shoulder, menacingly, but that only made you chuckle.

"I missed you too. It took me hours to fall asleep."

Alcina huffed. "From now on, whenever I have extra work, you'll help me deal with it to avoid this nonsense."

You bit your lower lip to stop yourself from laughing. Of course she would make it sound like this had been your idea without blaming you directly.

You turned without breaking her embrace, looking up to find her frowning displeased but when she looked down, her expression softened in an instant, making your heart melt at the look she was giving you.

Lifting a hand, you caressed her cheek with the back of your fingers. "Of course, my Lady."

Alcina smirked, kissing your forehead as if she was rewarding you and then your lips, smiling against them when your heartbeat sped up at the contact and you clenched her nightgown.

"Sleep, iubi," she reminded you, kissing your forehead once again, resting her chin on your head and bringing you closer as she closed her eyes, her arm covering your entire back.

You closed yours with a smile on your lips, nestling against her breasts and wrapping your arm around her waist.

You'd never say anything to her, knowing she wouldn't appreciate her neediness for you to be the center of attention ─ after all, she had other ways to let the world know how special you were to her without losing her intimidating dominance ─ but you loved to be the only one who was lucky enough to witness this side of her.

And you wouldn't have it any other way ─ every single day you'd happily choose the angry dragon that had no mercy, the woman who was capable to make the strongest cower with just one look, the soft kitten who purred contentedly when she had you in her arms. All of them holding you close to her, as if you were her comforting teddy bear with whom she couldn't find ease if you weren't next to her.

[toldthatdevil]

What’s gotten into you?

pairings: Mommy!Natasha Romanoff x Little!Reader

summary: mommy natasha deals with her bratty reader refusing to go to bed.

warnings: age regression, swearing, darker mommy nat, spanking

content: hurt/comfort, rule breaking, punishments

a/n: I saw this gif and immediately whacked this piece out in one sitting i was so inspired. (idk how i feel about the ending but there you have it)

(Gif from edmundisdead)

                                  ⧗‎ ⧗‎ ⧗‎

"Come on, dove, time for bed.”

You hummed as you continued to move your crayon back and forth, paying your mommy no mind.

“Dove? It's time to pack away.”

You didn’t react. You didn’t even look up at your mommy who was standing next to you now, casting a shadow over your art.

You pretended not to hear her again and carried on colouring in the picture that you had been spending all evening working on. It wasn’t until she tried to take the crayon from your hand that you finally spoke up.

“No!” You yelled, ripping your hand away so she couldn’t take it, “Not yet!”

Natasha sighed, not knowing what had gotten into you. Frankly, she really wasn’t in the mood for your bullshit tonight but she’d be damned if she let your bad attitude slide.

“No?” Natasha questioned, trying to give you one more chance to change your fate.

“Not going!” You whined, grabbing a handful of crayons and throwing them in Natasha’s direction.

Big mistake. Huge.

Natasha raised her eyebrow, hands in her pockets as she chuckled darkly. The look on her face was stern and you knew you were in trouble. It was too late to apologise but then again you didn’t feel like it either. All you wanted to do was finish off your picture for Wanda. You didn’t need to go to bed when there were more important things to do.

“Come here,” Her voice was stern.

You didn’t move. 

Suddenly you were yanked from your seat, Natasha’s hand around your wrist, dragging you to your bedroom. 

“You want to act like a brat tonight, huh? Is that it?”

Screaming, you tried to pry her hands off your wrist but she was too strong. She was practically holding you in the air whilst you shrieked at her.

“LET GO, LET GO, MOMMY!”

As soon as she met the threshold of your room you were released harshly to the floor. Tears of frustration stained your cheeks, but Natasha couldn’t care less right now. You broke her rules and there will be consequences.

“I don’t tolerate bratty littles,” Natasha said coldly, bending down to look you in the eyes.

Whether it was your anger fuelling you on or your own stupidity, you didn’t know. You reacted without thinking and slapped your mommy hard on her arm.

You froze. Natasha’s glare sent a shiver down your spine as you saw the muscles in her jaw clench.

Natasha was taken aback by your audacity. You had never slapped her before. Never even attempted to no matter how bratty you were being. It took her a moment to get over the shock of it but then she moved swiftly.

Within seconds she had her hands on you again, throwing you over her knee, and ripping your pyjama pants and underwear down your legs.

“Mommy, no, I sor-“

The blow landed harder than you expected. Usually, Natasha would make you count each slap to your ass and if you messed up she would start again. This time she didn’t say a word, that was how angry she was.

She didn’t relent. 

Not until she was satisfied that your skin was the perfect shade of red did she release her grip causing you to fall harshly to the floor.

You didn’t move right away, too busy sobbing into the floorboards unable to take a breath, with your pants still wrapped around your knees.

Natasha got up to leave the room, without a single look in your direction and closed the door behind her. You cried after her but she either didn’t hear you or didn’t care.

You didn’t know how long you were left on the floor of your bedroom sore and upset, but once you were quiet you heard the door open and the sounds of your mommy reentering the room.

Your sobs had turned into whimpered hiccups and your throat was hoarse. Familiar arms scooped you up from the floor and placed you gently onto your bed.

“We need to talk,” Your mommy said gently, a complete 180 from how she was speaking to you 15 minutes ago.

“Do you understand why you got punished?”

You frowned, refusing to look at her.

Natasha’s fingers scooped under your chin, forcing you to look into her green eyes.

“You disobeyed me, dove.” 

You hiccuped, your cheeks were red from crying but turned an even darker shade of scarlet from the embarrassment you were now feeling.

“Didn’t mean to,” You shrugged.

Natasha took a moment, thinking over in her head what to say. She was disappointed, you knew this, you could hear it in her voice.

“You know the rules, little one. Mommy needs an apology.” Her gaze was stern but not like before, her eyes were dark and scary then, but they were softer now.

“Sowwy mommy.” You said, now trying to get into her lap, but she stopped you, hand on your shoulder.

“Mommy’s still upset. Do you know why?”

You shook your head no.

“You hit mommy, and that hurt. Look.” Natasha rolled up her grey sleeves to show you the mark you had left on her body.

Gone was the anger, it had replaced itself with sadness and regret. You didn’t mean to hurt mommy, and the way she was looking at you, hurt even more.

Tears pooled in the corners of your eyes once more as you tried to hold them back. 

“Do you know why I had to punish you?”

You nodded yes. “I’m sowwy mommy.”

Natasha signalled for you to come to her, satisfied you had learnt your lesson. You crawled into her lap, wrapping your arms around her neck as you hugged her tight. She rubbed soothing circles on your back whilst the tears ran down your cheeks again.

“Shh, my love, I forgive you.” 

At the end of the day, Natasha will always forgive you. You were her perfect little baby and she wouldn’t trade her life with you for anything. No matter how difficult you were from time to time, she would always be there to love you and help you right your wrongs.

[spencersties]

Willing Closeness - S.R.

Gif is by @radioactive-creative-bug

A/N: I was thinking about that "I'm not sharing with reid" room thing from 5×21 this morning and I wanted to write a little drabble but it somehow turned into a whole ass one shot.

Content/Warnings: enemies to lovers, one bed trope, fluff, some angst if you squint and tilt your head to one side

Word count: 840

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you and spencer had gotten along as well as oil and water for the few months that you had known him. neither of you understood why, but for some reason, you just couldn't be in the same room together without getting on each other's nerves. you found him infuriating most of the time, and if his constant quips were any indication, he felt the same way about you.

him getting shot didn't help matters. he was constantly putting himself in unnecessary danger. you just didn't understand how a man with such a high IQ acted so irrationally. you had almost lost your shit when you found out he had travelled without being cleared, it was almost like he wanted to get himself in trouble.

now that he was pretty much healed and back to putting himself on the wrong end of a gun barrel, you were closer to snapping than ever. you got the urge to stand in front of him any time you came face to face with an unsub.

so when night rolled around on a case where the killer seemed to hunt at night and you still hadn't caught them, you were more than ready to do whatever was necessary to make sure spencer didn't do something dumb again. if only to calm your own nerves, of course.

"I'm not sharing with reid again." came morgan's voice, and reid frowned, clearly taking some offence.

garcia quickly called dibs on derek and before you could overthink it, you spoke up, "I'll room with the doctor tonight."

confused looks came from all the members of the team, they were all familiar with you and reid's constant squabbles. however, you didn't spare any of them more than a glance, going to get the key to your room and heading upstairs instead.

but of course, of course, when you got to the room there was only one large bed in the centre of it.

you sighed and dropped your go-bag down onto the floor, running your hand through your hair. this was fine, you and spencer would just have to deal with this like the adults you both were.

a click sounded behind you, and spencer walked into the room. glancing at you and then at the bed, still sporting a look of utter confusion. his mouth opened and closed a few times.

"oh." was the only sound that managed to make it out.

"it's big enough for the both of us."

"okay."

"I'm taking the side next to the window." you expected some sort of disagreement on his part at that.

"okay." was what he responded with instead.

the rest of the night continued in the same unfamiliar manner. with you and spencer getting ready for bed in amicable silence.

after a little while, the lights had finally been shut off and the two of you climbed into the bed.

you turned away from him, grabbing onto one side of the duvet, with him doing the same, which would have usually been fine, but there was only one duvet, and spreading it out like that meant there was a gap through the middle that let the cold in.

"spencer this isn't going to work. We'll both be freezing to death before the morning."

maybe the evening had gotten your hopes up because you were expecting a reasonable response from him, but, naturally, spencer did the opposite of what you thought he would.

he turned so that he was facing your back and wrapped an arm around your front, gently nudging you so you were closer, mumbling something about how this wouldn't be necessary if you weren't such a blanket hog under his breath.

you were too stunned by his willing closeness to answer him.

once spencer seemed to deem that the two of you were near enough, he took his hand away from you. you must have let out some sort of peculiar sound at that because he spoke up again.

"sleep. I'll be fine without your constant hovering for the next eight hours."

"I don't hover." you said, probably not as defensively as you should have.

"sleep." he repeated. and surprisingly, you did. you slept better than you had in ages, not a single concern crossing your mind.

you woke up the next morning with spencer wrapped around you like his life depended on it. His legs were between yours, and his head was buried in your chest while his arms held you in place by the waist.

you absentmindedly ran a hand through his hair, still hazy from sleep, before saying his name. he hummed and pulled you tighter to him, burying his head further into you before mumbling, "stay, we can go back to bickering later."

you couldn't argue with that logic and you were going to take full advantage of having spencer where you could see and feel him.

the two of you spent that morning drifting in and out of sleep for as long as you could before having to get up and ready to go meet the team.

request to be on my taglist

[wardenparker]

The Viper’s Bride - ch 8

Oberyn Martell x female reader x Ellaria Sand x OC Co-written with @absurdthirst

The second Prince of Dorne has lived under the illusion that he would not be forced to wed for his entire life. He has enough lovers and illegitimate children to make him a legend across Westeros, and the love of his soulmate Ellaria Sand to content him. But a contract between his brother and a lord from the north will catapult him into a match that may prove to be as complicated as it is intriguing. Especially when he learns that you already have a soulmate of your own.

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 16.8k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: terrible parents, age gap 10+ years, arranged marriage, classicism, cursing, food and alcohol, internalized homophobia. Reader is described as having hair long enough to braid* Oral sex (m receiving), hair pulling, vaginal sex, unprotected sex. Mentions of Elia's fate (sexual assault and murder). Voyeurism, technically? Intimate touching/nonsexual intimacy. Brief mentions of pregnancy/childbirth/mortality in childbirth. Misogyny. Ellaria being an absolute badass. Stabbing. We respect sex workers here, but Petyr Baelish does not (asshole). Mention of forced medical procedure. Summary: A blissful morning after is interrupted by an unwelcome guest with even more unwelcome news. Notes: I have been waiting entire WEEKS to use this gif. Apologies for any technical difficulties with links and missing tags in this chapter - I posted about it last night but I experienced even more trouble as the night went on. 💖

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7

Your eyes open with the birdsong the next morning, drifting back to reality from the bliss of happy dreams. Oberyn's frame weighs you down in the plush bed, his leg hooked over yours and seemingly his whole torso on your back with his arms around you to hold you close. With the whole great expanse of bed to lay out in, he has attached himself to you even in sleep. It makes you hum softly and curl even deeper into his hold. As if you could burrow into his side so entirely that you would never have to leave.

Despite the excess and indulgences that Oberyn partakes in regularly, he is also a warrior. A man who has ridden with the Second Sons and even commanded his own company of men. He has warred in multiple locations and lived under the hardest conditions, awake and fighting at a moment's notice. When you move, his eyes open, focusing immediately before he allows himself to soften and hum against your neck. "Does the sun break over the horizon or is my lady wife an early riser?" He rasps into your ear.

"Your lady wife is a light sleeper," you mumble, turning your head to indulge in a long kiss good morning. Your thighs ache from last night's tumbling just as you had hoped and it is a welcome, wonderful feeling. "The birdsong roused me. Go back to sleep, my prince."

"Hmmm." Oberyn smirks at you and shakes his head. "It is too late, my cock has decided to awaken." He growls with a leering look down your body, and his hand slides up to cup your breast and pinch your nipple sharply.

The rasping moan it earns from you seems to please him, and your whole body instantly awakens at his touch. "How does my husband like his pleasure in the morning?" You are entirely soft and pliant at the moment, willing to give him what he wishes as he gave to you last night.

“I think I want my Princess to ride my cock.” He chuckles throatily. “Let me bite and lick your tits while you gallop to pleasure.”

Yes, your legs will ache all the more from such early exertions, but that is the furthest thing from your mind at the moment. You shift in his arms to straddle his waist easily, resting your weight on his thighs for a moment as you look down at him. His half-roused cock lies thick and proud against his belly, and for a moment you hesitate before deciding that he deserves as much indulgence this morning as you can muster. Instead of wrapping your hands around his length to stroke him to hardness, you move back and bend down, taking his cock into your mouth with an approving hum.

Hissing in pleasure, Oberyn’s hand wraps around your plait again, his hips rocking up to chase the tease touch of your tongue. “Fuck.” He groans, enjoying the very pleased look on your face as you hollow your cheeks. “Have you enjoyed sucking your lover’s cock?” He asks, twitching and hardening even more in your mouth.

Not willing to sacrifice having him in your mouth to answer, you hum in agreement and bob your head as if to nod. It is one of Raeden's favorite indulgences and you learned the skill well to please him.

“Hmmmm.” He groans, leaning back against the bed and closes his eyes. “You have talent.” He praises breathlessly. The praise washes through and encourages you to work harder, to take him deeper and use your hand well on what you cannot swallow. His vocal appreciation for your efforts has awoken your own desires, making your cunt ache and quiver with anticipation.

It doesn’t take long for Oberyn to tire of your mouth, talented as it might be. He wants to see you ride him. Tugging on your hair, he pulls you off his cock. “Mount me, wife.” He orders harshly.

You discovered long ago that you despise taking orders in life, which made your position all the more difficult. But in bed with a lover, to be needed or desired that badly is something you have found intoxicating. This morning, it makes you look up at him and smirk boldly, popping off of his cock with a sinfully wet sound. “The prince does not like his seed to be wasted?” You guess with a teasing air as you move forward to position yourself over him.

"I wish to feel your cunt around me." He rocks his hips up impatiently. He has not yet had his fill of your cunt and wants to be inside you before he cums. Although the smirk and sass that you give him makes him even harder, watching you become emboldened by your freedom with him.

You are slower to impale yourself on him than he was to bury himself last night, only by virtue of wanting to draw out the delectable feeling. Your pussy stretches to take him without resistance but it does push a soft moan from your lips. Once he is fully seated inside you, though, you start to move immediately. The feeling of him is too good to waste.

Your cunt lips are stretched wide around him and his hands on your hips move so he can pull your clit back so he can see more of your delicious cunt impaled on him. "Beautiful star." He groans passionately, looking up at you before one hand slides up to cup your breast.

“Do you like to watch me take you, husband?” The idea makes you groan, leaning back to brace your hands above his knees while you move.

"Yes." He grunts, biting his bottom lip until it is plump from the blood. Fingers digging into your skin and he hisses when you clench around him. His grip loosens and he palms it gently. "I find that your cunt is made for me."

“Then your cock must be made for me.” It is boldness that makes you talk that way, you know that, but a part of you almost feels the truth in it. Though – you must remember that you felt that way about Raeden as well. Perhaps you simply enjoy the pleasures of the flesh more than you knew.

Oberyn groans, arching a brow as your answer surprises him and even more, he agrees with it. “Perhaps it is, princess.” He huffs. “Perhaps it is.” Your hips are squeezed, then slapped as you ride him.

He delighted in your sounds last night so you do not hold back this morning. It would be a thing of wonder to feel this free no matter who you have in your bed, and you wonder in the back of your mind what Ellaria will sound like when you one day taste her sex for the first time.

Your sounds are loud, lusty and he doesn't mind who hears them. Proud that you would make your pleasure known when you had confided that you had to be quiet in all your other encounters. While he knows that you will be loud with others, he revels in being the first that you find your voice with.

Your combined moans bounce off the walls of the chamber, echoing down the hall to alert any and all who are up this early that the prince has already begun his work for the day. It is a scene of ecstacy right until the doors open, and for a moment you decide not to care. Let Leyth see you like this. She has seen worse in her time, surely.

"It is interesting that you house your wife in a whorehouse, Prince Oberyn." Oberyn's eyes slide past you and lock on Tywin Lannister, his expression pinched in disapproval as if he has a shit he has been unable to get out. His eyes slide over your bare back, down to your ass and his brow arches, "unless that is not your lady wife bouncing on your cock like a whore, and then I must ask what her price is."

The deep voice startles you more than anything else, making you immediately cover yourself and look over your shoulder in a panic. You have only seen Tywin Lannister on one other occasion – the late king's wedding just days ago – but you will never forget the man's face. It seems to bleed hate in every direction. Before you can even breathe again you have slipped out of Oberyn's lap and burrowed under the many blankets on the bed as if you are trying to disappear.

His breeches are on the table next to the bed and Oberyn grabs them, sliding into them and standing up, hopping slightly as he pulls them up over his hips and turns to look at Tywin. He is not pleased about the interruption and he narrows his eyes. "You have a sense of timing." He huffs, turning his back on him again as he reaches for the butter yellow robes he had been wearing yesterday. Your own gown would be too cumbersome for you to get into, so he will put his robe on you.

The covering is gratefully accepted, and Oberyn wraps you in it with gentle hands and ties it around your waist to preserve the modesty that is so important to you. "Tywin Lannister?" You whisper, barely breathing, and he nods silently that you are correct.

"May we have the room? Or are you a man who allows his wife to hear his business?" Lord Tywin asks, seeming barely interested in the answer.

Oberyn doesn't answer the man, but he asks you a silent question, arching his brow. He wants to know if you wish to stay or go. If you wish to stay, Oberyn will obstinately state that his wife is allowed wherever she wishes to be and she wishes to be by his side. If you wish to go, he will pat you on the ass and send you in to your lover and Ellaria.

The question is whether to cave to embarrassment or to exert yourself as a proud and steadfast wife, and it is a harder question to answer than you are proud of. While it would certainly be more comfortable to leave, that is not the role you wish to fulfill. You nod your head subtly, telling your husband that you wish to stay, and fiddle with the ring that he gave you yesterday for only a moment. "Wine, Lord Tywin?" You ask, as brightly and easily as if he had just stumbled into the sitting room at your father's estate.

His puzzlement only flashes across his eyes for a moment, and he nearly chuckles at how easily you seem to bounce back from the momentary mortification of being taken for a whore. "No, thank you."

"My wife goes wherever I wish and I wish for her to be by my side." Oberyn reaches for the small shawl to wrap around his shoulders. Smirking slightly at how you hold your head high and walk across the room to the table as if you were holding court instead of dressed in his robe with your legs bare.

Lord Tywin watches as you pour two glasses of wine and deliver one to Prince Oberyn, but pays it no mind. As he understands it, the marriage is but days old and done in haste. You will tire of each other before long. "There are matters to discuss," he declares though his air is still as careless as if he was discussing the weather. "Between you and I, Prince Oberyn."

He understands that is yet again another hint to send you away and yet, Oberyn smirks quietly. "Would you like to sit?" Oberyn offers, gesturing to the bed. If he knows the uptight prick he will not take the offer.

"No, thank you." He doesn't disappoint and since you have already offered him wine, Obyern takes a sip of his own.

"I am sorry about your grandson." He tells the man.

"Are you?" Lannister seems surprised at that, but only his voice and not his face or manner would ever let anyone know that.

"I don't believe that a child is responsible for the sins of his father." Oberyn takes a sip of his wine and lowers his cup. "Or his grandfather." He hums. "An awful way to die."

"Which way is that?" The unmoving nobleman barely lifts an eyebrow. You can feel the measured way he stands, the aura he gives off simply by being in such close quarters with him. Tywin Lannister reeks of quiet calculation and strategy, and your dislike for the man grows instantly.

Oberyn turns and faces the man directly, knowing the question would come eventually. "Are you interrogating me, Lord Tywin?" He asks boldly.

Tywin doesn't fluster or excuse his question. "Some believe the king choked." He manages to keep his voice even and convey derision at that idea at the same time.

"Some believe the sky is blue." Oberyn counters, "because we live inside the eye of a blue-eyed giant." He flops back down elegantly on the bed and looks over at you before back at the head of the Lannister family. "The king was poisoned."

"I hear you studied poisons at the Citadel." The accusation comes as cool and clear as if he was stating a fact, and you have to stop yourself from reacting instantly. A reaction would be defensive and make Oberyn look guilty. Just like defending your brother over stealing sweets as children had always given you away to your septa.

The accusation doesn't phase Oberyn. "I did." He tells Tywin. "This is why I know." He takes another sip of his wine.

"Your hatred for my family is rather well known." Tywin lays out. "You arrive at the capitol, an expert in poisoning, some days later, my grandson dies of poisoning."

"Rather suspicious." Oberyn agrees. "Why haven't you thrown me in a dungeon?" He asks curiously.

You open your mouth to bite back at Lord Tywin but the nobleman mows over you as if he has entirely forgotten you are in the room. It makes you far more angry than you would have expected, but you certainly are not taking kindly to the line of questions he is taking with your husband. "You spoke with Tyrion in this very brothel on the day that you arrived. What did you discuss?"

Amusement laces Oberyn's tone as he sits up. "You think we conspired together?" He asks.

Tywin doesn't answer, instead he asks again, "What did you discuss?"

"The death of my sister." Oberyn walks towards the taller man.

"For which you blame me." Tywin drones.

"She was raped and murdered by the Mountain." Oberyn stares the man down. "The Mountain follows your orders. Of course I blame you."

The head of House Lannister nearly shrugs, but that would be too undignified a movement. "Here I stand unarmed and unguarded. Should I be concerned?"

"With a witness, Lord Tywin?" You tick one eyebrow up at him, watching your husband saunter closer to the man he names as his greatest enemy. "Or do wives only count as wallpaper?"

Oberyn smirks, proud of your comment. "You are unarmed and unguarded because you know me better than that." He hums. "I am a man of reason. If I cut your throat today I will be drawn and quartered tomorrow."

Lannister's eyes flash back to you on the bed but he says nothing to you. His business is not with you this time. "Men at war commit all kinds of crimes without their superiors' knowledge." He reminds the prince, but there is an air of satisfaction there that rings out and you do not like it at all.

"So you deny involvement in Elia's murder?" Oberyn demands.

"Categorically." Tywin murmurs, although it feels as false as his making you for a whore.

Oberyn stares at him for a long moment, rage filling his veins but he simply smirks and turns back to you on the bed to pick up his wine cup. "I would like to speak with the Mountain."

"I'm sure he would enjoy speaking with you." Lord Tywin Lannister is not a fool. He knows there are secrets in this marriage between the infamous prince with many bastards and the daughter from the Vale that all at court had either forgotten about or assumed would end a spinster. He simply does not know what those secrets are. Unfortunately for him, you seem thoroughly infatuated with your husband. That will make you harder to break.

"He might not enjoy it as much as he thinks." Oberyn hums, amusing himself as he imagines snuffing the life out of the Mountain slowly. He picks up a berry from the table and pops it into his mouth.

Tywin seems amused and he starts walking towards him. "I could arrange for this meeting." He offers.

Oberyn is no fool and he sits down on the bed beside you. "But you want something in return."

"There will be a trial for my son. And as custom dictates, three judges will render a verdict." As Lord Tywin comes closer, the conversation now seems to be suitable for your ears as well, and he casts a glance down at you wrapped in your husband's robe before looking back to Oberyn. " I will preside. Mace Tyrell will serve as the second judge." A fact he seems less than thrilled about but has obviously deemed necessary. "I would like you to be the third."

Oberyn is eating again throughout Twyin's little speech and he arches a brow. "Why?"

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

Oberyn huffs. "Well, you made the Tyrell girl a queen." He snarks. "Asking me to judge at your son's trial isn't quite as tempting."

"I will also ask you to sit on the small council to serve as one of the new king's principal advisors." The Lannister does not miss a beat, though he seems increasingly annoyed at Oberyn’s flippancy. "A residence in the capital dignified enough for your bride, of course, would be offered with such a position."

Obeyrn sets his cup down and turns around. "I never realized you had such respect for Dorne, Lord Tywin."

Tywin looks pained as he admits, "we are not the Seven Kingdoms until Dorne returns to the fold. The king is dead. The Greyjoys are in open rebellion. A wildling army marches on the Wall." Twyin paces past you and towards the window. "And in the East, a Targaryen girl has three dragons." Oberyn turns to look at the lord as he absorbs this news. If Doran knew of it, he did not reveal it before he had left for King's Landing. "Before long, she will turn her eyes to Westeros. Only the Dornish managed to resist Aegon Targaryen and his dragons."

"You're saying you need us." You murmur in recognition, including yourself amongst the numbers of the Dornish. You may not yet have set foot there, or begun to understand your true duties, but you are a princess of Dorne with Dornish blood in your veins.

Oberyn can tell that your comment irritates Tywin, which means that it is true. "That must be hard for you to admit." He tells the Hand. Tywin jerks his head slightly, fidgeting as if he wished to shake off the unpleasant truth.

"We need each other." He manages after an insincere smile. "You help me serve justice to the king's assassins, and I will help you serve justice to Elia's."

For a moment there is tense silence in the room, and then Tywin Lannister makes a grandiose show of holding his hand out to the Dornish prince. An offer is on the table. An opportunity to see through the thing that he knows Oberyn wants more than anything in this world – for his sister's brutalization and murder to be avenged. It is not a truce, but an agreement that each has something the other needs, and you all but hold your breath waiting to see what your husband will decide.

Oberyn stares at the man's hand for far longer than polite, making him think that he might not have sold his proposal. Only when he sees the doubt in the man's eyes does he reach out and capture his hand, shaking it with a smirking warning. "I do things my way, Lord Tywin."

"I did not expect anything else." The older man seems reluctant in his admittance of this fact but at least he has gotten what he needs. "I will have your quarters prepared for you at the Keep. A suite for you and your bride should suffice nicely." When his eyes turn to you they are icy cold. "I hear she is fond of the library."

“We will stay here.” Oberyn insists.

"It is hardly a long-term residence for a member of the small council." Tywin knew this would be a sticking point. That the prince's desire to keep far away from the place where his sister died would complicate issues. "The position affords you the comfort and prestige of a residence in the Red Keep. It is expected."

Frowning, Oberyn’s jaw clenches as he turns towards you. He had not anticipated staying longer than another week, but it might be longer if he sits in the small council. Your eyes are warm, and he smirks before he turns back to the Lannister. “I will need more rooms.” He tells Tywin. “For my lover, and for my servants.” He chuckles. “I have grown very fond of the service I receive here and I do not think the Red Keep can compare.”

The sound that the Lannister patriarch expels is caught between a tut and a chuckle, as if the prince's demands are ostentatious and amusing. A thing to entertain oneself with for a short amount of time and nothing more. A mere trifle. "I will arrange your accommodations," he nods, looking between you. "And send word when your rooms are ready."

“Now if you will excuse me, Lord Tywin.” Oberyn tosses off the shawl and crawls back onto the bed with a lecherous smirk. “I have a gorgeous young wife who I need to fill with my seed.”

"Of course." He strolls from the room without another word, thinking as loudly as he can that the prince's wife is not nearly as young as she should be if he intends to breed her.

Instead of kissing you, or starting to remove your clothes, Oberyn lays beside you, reaching out and caressing your hand. “What did you think of your first small council meeting?”

Waiting until you can hear the door at the end of the hall shut tight, you exhale slowly and look back at your husband with concern. "He wants more from you than he is saying," you murmur, keeping your voice low out of an abundance of concern. This feels like any average week with your upset mother as a child, laying in your brothers' bed with them and trying to figure out how to soothe her. "I do not know what, but we should be on our guard."

“Of course he does.” Oberyn agrees easily. “He is a Lannister. They always want more.” The smirk slides into a frown and he hates the thought of living in that fucking keep for even a day. “But I will not give him more than I wish to,” he assures you, leaning in and kissing your lips. “It means I must decide what I wish to do.” He pulls away and sighs softly, “I must go.” He tells you. “Talk to my men. You stay here with your lover and Ellaria.”

"Will you tell me what you decide?" You ask, concerned that this may be the threshold of what he includes you in.

He nods seriously. “Despite what the north might think, a Princess of Dorne must know what her husband knows.” He understands that he’s not bringing you now, but he needs to have some serious discussions with the men and that wouldn’t happen if he brought you.

"Do what you must, and we will be here for you when you return. But—" Your hand strikes out, caressing his cheek gently. "If you are to talk to your men, take Raeden with you. Ellaria and I will be safe here, and he must know all in order to protect us."

“Do not leave the brothel.” Oberyn cautions you, smirking slightly. “Maybe you and Ellaria can become better acquainted. A bath together?”

"I certainly need one," you huff slightly, half-rolling your eyes. "Or else I shall arrive at your side to the Red Keep smelling of sweat and cum."

“No sweeter scent to be had.” Oberyn chuckles, sliding his hand up your thigh and slapping your ass. “I will need my clothes.” He prompts. “As fetching as you look in them.”

"Of course." If you claimed that you had forgotten that you were wearing his robe it would be a lie, but it is soft and elegant and you cannot say that you do not enjoy wearing it. "My robe is in the other room." As if on cue, a soft moan sounds from beyond the door that connects to the chamber where Raeden and Ellaria slept last night. "It appears that our lovers are awake."

“They are.” He hums, listening to the sound of pleasure. “Should we watch?” He asks you seriously. “Do you wish to see your lover? Or wait until they are done?

"Let them enjoy their time," you decide, hearing Raeden's voice dip deep. Whatever Ellaria is doing, he is enjoying it thoroughly. "If you need to leave immediately, I will understand."

“It can wait.” He tosses his head back and looks up at the ceiling. “Damn Tywin and his sense of timing.”

"He could not have timed it better if he tried." Laying back in his arms, you frown at the thought. "I half suspect that he waited outside the room to make sure he was interrupting."

“It matters not.” Oberyn only hates that you felt exposed. His fingers drag down to the belt he had tied and quickly unknots it. “He will be jealous that he saw beauty he could not buy with his coins.” Once the robe falls open, his hand finds your breast and he palms it. “What does my Princess like in the mornings?”

“This,” you hum softly, leaning into his touch. Though it is not at all the question he is asking. “Will I not have plenty of things to keep me busy in the morning in Dorne? Running your household and seeing to royal duties?” Of course most responsibilities would fall to his brother’s wife, but to run a royal household will be a challenge to learn.

“No.” He hums in amusement. “The servants run the house.” He chuckles. “Is it not the way in your father’s house?”

“I did not think I would be cleaning a palace on my own,” you tease, laughing with him. “But who tells them what to cook for meals? When to expect visitors? Organize social events? Being a well-married woman is all about social engagements, according to my brothers’ wives.”

Oberyn scoffs and shakes his head. “Dorne is different. At least for my house.” He chuckles. “The cooks know our favorite foods and it will be a surprise to see who they cooked for that night when we sit down to eat.” He had thought it particularly genius of his brother’s wife to give them control over the food. “Unless there is a special event and then there will be arguments over what to serve with the cooks throwing things and shouting how their recipes are best.”

"I am sure I will learn what is expected of me soon enough." It sounds as though the things that you have been taught regarding how to run a household and be the lady of the house will not quite be right in Dorne. But this is not the time to agonize over that, considering Tywin Lannister has now bought your husband's presence in King's Landing for at least the next two weeks.

"Yes you will." He has no doubt that you will be a magnificent princess if your reactions to Lord Tywin's intrusion on a private moment is anything to go by. His eyes slide over your breast, watching as the bud of your nipple tightens, pulling the skin together. "How do you feel about staying in the Keep again?" He asks idly. "No doubt your bitch mother will moan to stay." He snorts. "Watch the festivities of Lord Tyrion's head being removed from his body."

"I will adjust, although I admit that the bath here is far superior to the one I had in the Keep," you smile slightly. "And unfortunately, Lord Tywin was correct about one thing. I do enjoy the library." After a moment, and a deep shuddering breath as his fingers continue to tease your skin, you sigh. "Do you think he did it?" From what you saw, the king's uncle looked as shocked as anyone else present. And you had not taken the man for any kind of actor or even a very good liar.

"I do not." Oberyn has his suspicions but he won't share them with you. Not to keep you in the dark, but to keep you safe. "Whoever killed the king had much more to gain than just a petty grievance. And Lord Tyrion had nothing to gain by killing his nephew."

"I suppose we will find out in two weeks." It is longer than either of you thought to stay in King's Landing, and not for a good reason, but you will try to make the most of it.

"It will not be a fair trial." Of that, he has no doubt. "At least you will be able to visit with the queen while you are there."

"She was very kind to me when we arrived." Queen Margaery, for better or for worse, is one of the only friendly faces that you know at the keep. "In fact, she encouraged me by only speaking good things of you. So I likely ought to tell her how right she was."

He hums thoughtfully, pausing his touch as he wonders why the Tyrell girl would speak so highly of him. Unless… "You must talk to her again." He encourages with a nod. "Offer her comfort and support."

"Of course I will." You would not dream of doing otherwise, after having been the person to stand in horror with her on the dais while King Joffrey lay dying. "I would not think to do anything else."

"She wants something from you." He reaches up to cup your chin and tilt your head up. "If there is a time to mention visiting Dorne, offer it to her and see how she reacts."

"I will." It is not a desirable feeling, to understand that the younger woman's friendliness might not have been true kindness or affection for you at all, but that is how the world works. Instead of falling to pieces over the unfairness of a possible lie, you nod. "And I will tell you when we speak of it."

He sees the doubt and the way your eyes dim slightly, hating that you have come to realize that your position makes you a most valuable friend to make. "She is scared, princess." He reminds her softly. "The Lannisters all but hold her hostage. She will have to marry Tommen."

"But..." Your mind whirls back into motion, realizing how little you actually have to regret. "He is...nine years old."

"And she will be expected to bed him." His lip curls in disgust or perhaps pity for the girl. While he was in a woman's bed when he was merely fourteen, he had not had the timidity of the future king.

"I cannot stomach that thought." Especially with your best guess that Queen Margaery is perhaps twice the young boy's age. You shake your head, listening for the last few moments of pleasurable sounds from the next room and lying back in the bed when your lovers fall silent again on the other side of the door.

"At least two of us found pleasure this morning." Obeyrn huffs, leaning in and pressing his lips to yours. "We will find ours later. Unless you find it with Ellaria while your Ser Raeden and I are gone."

"Even if I find it with Ellaria," which you are not certain you will do, although the idea is no longer far-fetched. "It will not stop me from wanting to find it with you again tonight."

"Whatever you wish." He promises. "We must make sure the halls of the keep are filled with pleasure."

"And there is a chance we may be the only ones finding it." You huff slightly, but lift yourself from the bed to slip out of his robe completely. You can wear your thin shift to walk into a room whose occupants have already seen you bare. "We should tell them what has passed."

"We will." It would be an insult to both if he were to keep them in the dark about the day's surprising outcome. It would be futile anyway, because Ellaria would sense something is amiss and he is sure that Raeden is the same way.

A small knock at the door is enough, and you crack it open a respectfully small amount. Not to interrupt them the way you had been this morning. "Are you...is it...alright if we come in?"

Surprisingly, there is a shuffling of sheets and fabric in the dark. The sound of clothes being thrown on hastily takes a moment to recognize but Oberyn tilts his head curiously at the cause of such a thing.

Ellaria appears at the door a moment later with a smile and opens it wide. "Our lovers have emerged from consummating their marriage," she hums with a warm smile. "Have you enjoyed your morning as well?"

His brow ticks up, but he says nothing about the pause before. “It would have been wonderful if Tywin Lannister had not shown up and rudely interrupted my cock being ridden.”

The name makes Ellaria frown immediately and she moves aside to let you both in. "What happened, lover?" She asks with concern. Her hand finds Oberyn's easily and she leads him to the bed, assuming you will all sit together while he relates the tale. "What did he want?"

“I have been given a seat on the small council.” Oberyn informs her. “And I will sit on Tyrion Lannister’s trial.” He turns his dark eyes towards his lovers and sighs. “We will be moving into the Keep today.”

"Oberyn." Ellaria's frown deepens measurably. She knows how very little he must wish for such a thing, considering his sister's fate. "Are we to...to stay here?"

He understands what she really means and it makes him frown even more than he already is. "No." He tells her smugly. "I demanded additional rooms for my lover and servants." He juts his chin towards the door. "Cal and Leyth." He tells her. "They come with us. Pay Littlefinger whatever price he names."

"We will arrange it." You may not be as used to handling Oberyn's affairs as Ellaria is, but you must learn eventually. And someone who might try to brush off a prince's lover will do no such thing when dealing with a princess.

Ellaria's brow raises as she turns to look at you for a beat before turning back to Oberyn. "Of course lover, everything will be as you wish." She promises with a smile, leaning over and kissing him passionately, knowing he is unsettled in this turn of events.

Your robe is hanging from the back of a chair at the table along one side of the room, and you slip into it before making your way over to Raeden. "You enjoyed your night?" The question might be unnecessary, but wanting him to be happy and comfortable is your default feeling in regards to your soulmate.

“Very good.” Raeden admits, as he sweeps you into his arms to kiss you rather desperately. Sliding his tongue into your mouth immediately as if to pay penance to you for kissing another.

The comfort of having him near is immediate, letting you melt into his side and sigh open for him like a blooming flower. His arms around you are a protective wall of calm and safety, and a soft whine from the back of your throat is a reminder that you were very much interrupted this morning and you are still feeling cheated from your own pleasure.

“When your new lover is finished kissing his soulmate, Ser Raeden and I will go talk to the Lords of Dorne.” Oberyn tells Ellaria. “You and my wife stay in the brothel.” He cups her chin. “Please.”

"He will never be finished," Ellaria huffs an amused laugh, having found that it is something that Raeden thoroughly enjoys. Still, she sets her chin on Oberyn's shoulder and kisses his cheek softly. "You need only say the word and I will undertake anything for you, my love. You know this."

“I know.” He knows that Ellaria’s loyalty to him is unshakeable and yet he still worries about the murky waters he must tread to find satisfaction for Elia’s murder. “Tywin was not pleased to learn that my paramour was coming with me. He will be less pleased to learn the Princess has a paramour of her own.”

"He can shove his shriveled cock in a bucket of leeches," Ellaria huffs again but this time she rolls her eyes. "I doubt he feels pleasure unless he is on the battlefield. Frigid man." She shakes her head and does not move from his side. "Do what you must, my love."

He smirks, nodding as he reaches for her hand. You and Raeden are still wrapped up in each other and he laces his fingers with hers. "How was your night, my sun? Did your Raeden pleasure you like you had hoped?"

"He is sweet, and gentle." Ellaria smiles as though that is an indulgence. "Not timid, but eager to please. It will take some coaxing to find the animal in him, but I do not mind that."

"Yes, she said sometimes she wishes that he makes her ache." Oberyn turns and drops a kiss on her bare shoulder. "Was it his guilt that made you dress before opening the door?"

She nods - the explanation is a simple one and she gestures to the two of you on the edge of the bed together. "Hers was less so?" Ellaria guesses with a sly smile. "We heard you both."

"You know that I am irresistible." He jokes, winking at his lover. "Her cunt is perfect." He hums. "You will enjoy it." Now that the barrier of propriety has been broken, he has no doubt Ellaria will spend most of the day in bed with his wife. His neglected cock twitches at the idea.

"I will take care of her for you," Ellaria promises.

"Please do," Raeden looks up and his eyes on Ellaria are soft.

Oberyn leans in to kiss Ellaria again. "We must dress and then you will be meeting the other lords from Dorne, Ser Stone." He informs Raeden. "Tell them of what has transpired and what is to come."

"Aye." With one more kiss, Raeden stands and starts to dress, donning the Dornish robes that he now takes great pride in wearing. Oberyn pats his lover's hand before he stands to get ready so they can depart.

In mere moments they have gone, and you look to Ellaria with an unintentionally nervous expression. “Would you share a bath with me?” It is the most normal thing you can think to offer, and would keep the two of you together. Something that you know the prince is concerned with.

Her eyes flash with something indistinguishable but her lips curve into a sultry smile and she sways her hips as she moves towards you. "Of course, princess." She purrs, reaching out and stroking your cheek lovingly as she stares into your eyes. "I will have the servants prepare the bath and I will bathe you myself." She insists. "I am well familiar with the ache and mess that comes with being in the prince's bed."

“Ellaria…” as tempting as that sounds, and it does, you hesitate. “You…are not my maid. I asked because I wish to spend time with you.”

"And I offer because I wish." She promises with a small pat to your cheek. "You could not get me to act as your servant if you wanted." She is not boasting that fact, but it is true. Oberyn would never allow it.

“It is the last thing that I want.” You promise her quickly. “I admire you, Ellaria Sand. For your strength, and your confidence. I—I honestly hope to learn from you…if that is something you would allow.”

Her brows arch in surprise for a moment and the confidence falls away. The woman underneath shines through and her eyes soften as if you were her lover. She cups your cheeks and smiles at you. "Of course, princess." She nods, her thumbs stroking your cheek. "I will teach you whatever you wish to learn."

"You love him very much." That is beyond questioning, and you swallow the accompanying thought in your head as Ellaria takes your hand to guide you out of the shared chambers and down to the bathing room. "And you have lived in Dorne all your life. There is much more you can tell me about our home than the stories my grandmother could remember from her childhood."

Leyth is in the hallway, bringing a pitcher of wine to the room and Ellaria stops her, ordering a bath for you and her. She knows that the water will be ready before the two of you are even down the end of the hall. "I will tell you how the house works. It is very interesting." She chuckles as she watches the servant rush away.

"Please." After this morning's revelation, you desperately want to understand how things are run at the palace. "He told me that things are done differently than the north and now I have no bearing of what I am supposed to do, and–" You look to Ellaria so gratefully. "I do not want to disappoint or embarrass him."

"You will not do either of those things." She promises you with a small smile. "Doran resides at the Water Gardens since Sunspear is difficult to navigate with his chair. Often it is Oberyn who sits at Sunspear in his brother's stead."

"So that is where we reside?" It had never occurred to you that Ellaria and her children would live apart from Oberyn, especially since he has often referenced having his children nearby.

"Yes." She nods. "We often visit the Water Gardens so we have rooms there as well." She smiles. "It is lovely. Perfect for sparring the courtyard or frolicing in the cool waters."

"But most of the time we are in the capital." You nod, beginning to form a better picture of their life. "Prince Doran and his wife rule from the Water Gardens, then? It is fortunate that there is a place for them to reside that is better for his health. And...both staff have adjusted to how she prefers things to be run?" You must sound like an insecure child asking, but you want to do the very best job that you can.

“Mellario is a strong willed woman.” Ellaria nods. “But she is also unique in her ways of ruling. She believes the servants are happier if they feel they have purpose. A say in the running of the household. They created their own cleaning schedules and the palaces are sparkling. The menu is varied and often better than the best taverns.”

"Then that is how it will stay." It would hardly improve conditions or opinions of anyone involved for you to change things that not only work but also make people happy. "My role is then...to sponsor social engagements and to bear children?" Which does not sound like an unfortunate life at all, but you want to be sure you have not missed anything.

“You will be an advisor to your husband. A hand of the throne of Dorne when needed.” Ellaria opens one of the bottles of oil and sniffs, wrinkling her nose and putting the stopper back in it and choosing another. “Lords will come to you to solve their problems when Oberyn and Doran are unavailable. Women in Dorne are not chattel, we are also warriors.”

"A fact I doubt my mother had any idea of." And thank the gods for that, otherwise she never would have forced your father to agree to the arrangement. As horrible as it sounded to you weeks ago, that is how wonderful you find it now. "Is this why you did not want the title for yourself?" You ask her carefully, not at all trying to offend her. "To be free to live as you choose instead of ruling?"

"I am a bastard." She shrugs one elegant shoulder as she unstops another bottle and sniffs, humming in approval. "There would always be someone who would question my claim as Oberyn's soulmate or insult him." She turns back to you and lifts a brow. "I did not wish to have my lover kill that many men on my behalf." She smirks. "And I have no use for formalities."

“Something I excel at, for better or for worse.” You nod in understanding and let her lead you to the bath. “My mother made sure of it, of course.”

She pours the oil into the bath, the smell rising with the steam as it swirls through the hot water. "We all have our purposes." She hums as she pulls the ties to your robe. "You will strengthen the title of my lover and your husband."

"I wish I had your certainty." It is one of the things you envy most, if you are honest, but you offer Ellaria a smile and pull your own shift over your head. She has already seen you naked, there is no reason to be shy.

"You are lovely." Ellaria hums, her eyes sliding over your body with lust and approval at your boldness. She smiles and gestures for you to get into the water. "I will get our soaps and cloths."

“My reasons for being shy in front of you are gone.” The rising water is hot and you slip into it gladly. “I may not have your confidence with new lovers, but I certainly do not wish us to be strangers.”

"Tell me about your first lover." Ellaria gathers the necessary supplies to bathe and she quickly slips into the water after discarding her own gown to join you.

“She was my best friend, besides my brothers. Her father was the maester who kept my father’s library and she was the only other girl I knew who enjoyed reading the way I did.” When Ellaria begins to wash you, you relax subtly. She offered, you remind yourself. “That is how it began. Reading together.”

"Romantic." Ellaria hums. "Oberyn reads to me sometimes, it puts me right to sleep." She knows how to read, she's actually very good at it, but she does not have a taste for reading like her lover does. That man's mind is far sharper than hers and she knows it.

“We would read to each other under the trees in the garden. Fairy stories and histories. Tales of the old world and fictions that our fathers disregarded as drivel for little girls but were full of the best questions about life.” It is good to know that Oberyn has the same taste for reading that you do. It can be something you do together.

"You fell in love imagining together." Ellaria smiles as she imagines two girls reading and yearning for one another. Perhaps stealing a kiss in secret and giggling about in the dark while touching her lips. It is very innocent and her heart aches that you had to hide such a beautiful thing.

"We did." That might be the most accurate way of describing your years as a girl with Brynna, and you never would have thought to put it that way. "As we grew older, she was given a place in the kitchens and my mother became stricter about allowing us to spend time together. It was..." You trail off, looking down at your own hands before managing to look back at Ellaria in front of you. "It was the night I returned from my only other trip to King's Landing that she kissed me for the first time."

She drags the soapy cloth over your shoulders and down your chest. She's not bathing you to seduce you, so she doesn't grope as she cleans. "And how did you feel when she kissed you?" Had you ever been kissed by a boy before?"

"No one ever." You shake your head, deciding to watch her hand as it moves. Revealing this part of you is more exposing than even being naked. "We came home late and my parents sent me to bed right away. But Brynna brought a tray to my room and told me how much she'd missed me and..." It makes you feel a little silly to admit, but you do: "I was only fifteen. And when she kissed me I was so aroused that I moaned and I had no idea why."

Ellaria nods, waiting for you to continue your story. It will do you good to tell your story and have it accepted. She knows you will keep talking, like bleeding a wound of infection.

"For years it was no more than kisses." Despite feeling like you are rambling, you cannot seem to stop. The relief of being heard is far more powerful than you had expected. "Stolen in the garden or late at night in my room. The day that desire became too much for us to bear...I see now how we lied to ourselves. Only men could make love to women, according to my septa. So even though we felt enough guilt and shame to keep what we were doing a secret, we did not call it lovemaking."

"But it was addicting, wasn't it?" Ellaria asks gently. "It makes you crave those stolen moments." She could imagine that being the case, falling together as often as you could and stealing moments of sublime pleasure.

"For almost two years," you admit, finding Ellaria's eyes again. "And then one day I was out in the woods and nearly impaled by a boar. And Raeden saved me."

Her jaw tightens slightly and she relaxes into an indulgent smile. "You found your soulmate.” She nods. "And you felt as if you could not have both."

"It was more than that...we had an agreement." One that seems both childish and useless in retrospect. "I had promised her that when she met her soulmate that I would not come between them. She was free to marry for love and I was not, so who was I to be selfish with her?" You sigh, looking away again and feeling the old shame wash over you. "Instead, I met Raeden first, and she wished me love and luck with him. When she met her own soulmate a year or so later it seemed serendipitous."

"I am sorry." She really is. There has never been an issue of having to deny her feelings towards anyone, especially someone that she has loved. Guilt swirls in her stomach and she focuses on you. "Perhaps you can write to your first lover? Catch up on her life and fill her in on yours."

"I think she would be very surprised to hear all that has happened." Brynna's life is tranquil, as far as you know. Far better than yours was in many ways right up until a few days ago. "Her husband is a farmer, and the last I heard she has birthed two beautiful babies."

"Lovely." She hums. "And soon, perhaps, you will join her in the joys of motherhood." She knows how virile Oberyn is and you are still young enough to be bred easily. Unless you had decided to keep drinking your tea.

"It is in the hands of the gods." It surprises you how much that makes you smile, one hand gently touching your belly as if you must be terribly delicate with your own body when that is certainly not how you behaved last night.

"May the Seven shine on you." There is no jealousy if you wish to carry another of Oberyn's children. Her own womb has already been used many times and he would not love his children any less when he holds his legitimate heir in his arms. The little prince or princess would be raised with their Sand Snake siblings.

"I am...scared," you confess quietly, reaching out to stop Ellaria's arm and find her gaze. "I know that childbirth is not easy. I have seen that first hand. But I...I wish to do this."

"There is a tea." Ellaria smiles, reaching up and caressing your face. "Oberyn brewed it to help me through my labors. It helps with the pain and eases the birth." She's not quite sure what he had brewed but after the labor of the first, he had made it his mission to find something to ease her suffering. "You will have that tea, I promise you."

"Thank you." There is no shame in admitting to a mother of four babes that you are nervous of your first, but it is still a relief to be offered so much comfort. "My brother's wife nearly lost her life with her second child. I–" You tremble a little. "I cannot imagine leaving any of you behind. Let alone my child."

"It is an unfortunate part of giving life." Ellaria won't deny that. Too many women suffer and die while they are trying to birth their babies. "I am sorry you had to worry so about that but you will have my lover to dote on you." She smiles in fond remembrance. "The prince was very indulgent while I was carrying his daughters. I have no doubt he would lavish the same attention and affection on you."

"He loves you very passionately." There is a second part of that thought that you do not dare voice, but you smile at her and lean forward, pressing an affectionate kiss to her cheek. "And you are so very deserving of it. Thank you for soothing my fears, Ellaria. For...if it is not altogether too forward of me...for being my friend."

"I am hopefully to be a lot of things to you." She purrs, reaching out and touching your shoulder. "What we become will come with time, but for now, I am most definitely your friend."

"Oberyn had hoped we might indulge each other while he is with the lords," you admit, allowing yourself to enjoy the warmth of her touch. "But that is up to you."

"We should wait." Ellaria decides, frowning slightly and shakes her head. "There is much to be done to get ready to move to the Red Keep." She looks at you earnestly. "We will need to order plenty of Dornish wine to be found and provided to us, he will be uneasy in that keep."

"I would not want to be anywhere one of my brothers died." The understanding washes over you, extinguishing any arousal that might have been building, and you nod. "And we must see what it will take to convince Lord Baelish to give up Cal and Leyth."

"Yes." She arches a brow. "You will not oppose having them serve you in the Keep, will you?" She knows that you accept Oberyn having lovers, but it is a different thing to have whores serve you.

"I would only object to it if they did not wish to serve us." Maids, whores, servants – it does not matter to you as long as it is work being done of one's own free will. Forced labor and slavery are abominations you will not accept.

“We will have to pay for them.” That is an unfortunate truth. “But they will be free to leave our side once their debt to Littlefinger is paid.”

"That is a relief." There is much to do, and you soak your hair carefully, making sure that no knots have been left behind from the night before while Ellaria washes herself. The two of you are done in the bath before long and you both dry off to don your robes again and go back upstairs.

“I will find Baelish and make sure that he knows that Cal and Leyth are coming with us.” Ellaria hums as she sweeps into the room.

"I will make sure that my things and Raeden's are packed." It was not as if you had unpacked much, especially considering you had only been in the brothel with Oberyn and Ellaria for a few days.

“Good.” Ellaria looks at you seriously. “We are going to a place that will be very dangerous.” She cautions. “Do not speak around the servants unless they are ours.”

"I will remember." You promise her. The maids, as they say, know everything.

She smiles and nods at you before quickly turning back to her trunk to find a gown to change into. Not a normal one that she has no problem tossing to the ground in a moment but one that reminds Baelish that she is Oberyn’s lover and has been for years.

******

There is an unhappy, squat man in Littlefinger’s office when she arrives, and he does not look up from his accounts book. “If you want a whore, go to the front room and wait. If you want a job, go away. No room for novices here.”

Ellaria snorts and does neither of those things. She strides up to the desk and reaches over, closing the book on the man’s fingers. “You think the Prince of Dorne’s lover is a novice?” She demands haughtily.

He looks like the sort of man to whimper and whine and he is - attempting to snatch his hand away and failing. “What do you want?” He demands, trying to wiggle his way out of the book again. “Lord Baelish isn’t here.”

“There are two whores that I want to take with me.” She smirks, leaning over and staring at him with an amused gaze. “Prince Oberyn wants them to come when we leave your establishment.”

“We don’t sell our whores.” The man tells her, gaze obviously aimed down her blouse instead of at her face. “Might trade, though. He can take one if he leaves you behind.”

It’s not smart of the sniveling little weasel to have a dagger out on the table whilst insulting her. Her own temper isn’t quite as fierce as her lovers, but her aim is just as precise. Snatching up the dagger, she buries the tip of the blade into the man’s hand and through the leather cover of his book, pinning his hand to it.

“Seven HELLS!” The weasel bellows like he’s had the air punched out of his lungs, jumping up from his seat only to pull himself back down again immediately when he realizes his hand isn’t going anywhere. “You goatfucking cunt!”

Her eyes flash and her own dagger comes out, pressed to his Adam’s apple just enough to knick the skin. “I fuck a prince, not a goat, you limp dicked bastard.”

“Aye!” He would nod if it would not impale him on her blade, instead his eyes flit between the two weapons in panic. “Oo—of—of course!” He squeaks with his watery eyes landing on her face again. “Wh—whatever you say!”

“Now.” Satisfied that she had gotten her point across and manners would be observed, she pulls the dagger away and resheaths it inside a pocket of her dress. “There is the matter of payment for Cal and Leyth’s freedom from this establishment.” She hums conversationally, a small smile playing on her lips. “I think we can come to some agreement?”

Scrambling for anything to stem the flow of blood sends the man halfway across the room for a length of fabric that was surely hanging in one of the brothel rooms only yesterday. He wraps it around his hand furiously, crying out in pain and groaning in frustration. Littlefinger will have his head for losing Leyth. “Together they are expensive,” he warns, hoping to discourage the desert dwelling bitch.

“More expensive than the price you put on your cock?” She asks, arching a perfect brow and pursing her lips. “Perhaps you would rather I tell the prince that you are unwilling to deal with me?”

“No.” Being unwilling to deal with the second Prince of Dorne could see him dead as well as cockless, and he shudders. “Fifty gold for them both,” he bargains, knowing that Littlefinger paid far less. The least he can do is make his employer a tidy sum.

She knows that he is trying to strong arm her and she crosses her arms. “Your boss has fled the city, he is not coming back. Change is coming to King’s Landing. Thirty gold and be glad to have two less to feed.”

If he were not currently bleeding out through his hand he might fight harder. He might bargain and deal. He might even see his way to getting his own profit out of this deal. But it’s either his life or Littlefinger’s whores. “Fine.” He huffs, Nearly snarling at the pain in his wound. “Pay now and take them today. They are no longer my problem.”

“Done.” She muses, turning on a charming, if somewhat sharp, smile. From another pocket, she pulls a purse of coins and opens it. Dumping the amount, forty coins, onto the desk. “Our bill is settled and we will be leaving your fine establishment. I do hope you have a good day.” She purrs, holding out her hand. “Their keys.”

Frowning heavily, the man pulls a heavy ring from his pocket and fumbles with it for a moment before thrusting it at the woman with a huff. “They are twenty-two and fifteen,” he tells her, referring to the numbers etched in the keys. “Cannot work the fucking latch with one hand.”

Ellaria plucks the keys from his hand and quickly unlatches it to retrieve the keys that she is looking for. “Pleasure, I’m sure.” She snorts, tossing the rest of the keys down on the desk and turning around to sashay out of the room. “Do have someone look at that hand.” She calls over her shoulder.

******

Cal is in the halls when Ellaria emerges around a corner again, having been sent to Please other guests when he was not desired by the prince last night. “My lady,” he bows her head to her respectfully, having heard the screaming coming from the office just minutes ago. “I…trust everything is well?”

“Everything is marvelous.” Walking up to him, she curls her hand around his neck and pulls him in for a soft kiss. “If you have any belongings, or wish to say goodbye to anyone, do it now.” She tells him, handing him the key to his bracelet. Rather than garish chains, Littlefinger had decorative bracelets on the wrists of the people in his brothel.

“Are we going somewhere?” He asks, rather bewildered. Cal had already become very comfortable with the prince, it’s true, but Littlefinger would never send anyone away for more than an errand. It is not as though he was in the habit of lending out his whores.

“You are free from this place.” Ellaria explains. “You are free to come with the prince, princess and I, or you can leave at your discretion.” She pauses, placing her hand on the man’s arm. “Although the prince would love for you to stay with us. Come to Dorne.”

“Leyth?” She is his only hesitation, and he knows that Ellaria Sand understands. That she would not say such things and offer freedoms lightly. There is a catch. There always is. But a whore to a prince is still better than a whore to Petyr Baelish. All he cares about is that his love will not be left alone in this place.

“The other key is for Leyth.” Ellaria smiles, understanding the deep affection and love the two have for each other. She had not missed the subtle touches that are not shared with their patron for the night. She holds up the other key to offer it to him. “Do you wish to give it to her?”

“She is upstairs. With the princess.” He nods and accepts the two keys as the precious items they are. The only times he’s seen bracelets come off of Littlefinger’s whores they were usually headed for the gravedigger’s cart.

“Cal.” Ellaria stops him with another serious tone. “We are offering – not commanding.” She reminds him. “We will need you to act as servants at the Red Keep, but we do not own you. You own yourself.”

“Will the prince pay us?” He asks quietly. No one here ever saw a single coin of what they earned their employer and certainly were never asked for a single damn thing. It was always commanded. “Shelter us? See we are fed?”

“The prince has already demanded quarters for you in the palace and he is a fair man.” She nods. “You eat the same foods we do, and your coins earned are yours to keep. The Dornish crown pays their servants well.”

“Would…” he hesitates, but Cal has felt more comfortable and cared for as a person by the prince that paid for his company than by his own family. “Questions will keep for later,” he decides. “Let us tell Leyth the good news.”

“Delightful.” Ellaria beams, wrapping her hand around the man’s forearm as if he was a lord escorting her through a garden. She feels like he will come with them if Leyth agrees.

The quiet conversation coming from the prince’s quarters is muffled by the usual sounds from the other rooms, but it stops entirely when the door opens. You have been very careful with what you say and to whom today, meaning that you have ceased speaking altogether anytime a new person has come to the rooms. Seeing Ellaria makes you sigh with audible relief. “Have you been successful?” You ask, hoping that the appearance of Cal beside her means the answer is yes.

Her self satisfied smile is answer enough but she nods. “I have. We are ready to leave as soon as we are packed.”

“Nearly.” With Leyth’s help things have gone quickly. “Very nearly.”

“We will be sorry to see you go.” Leyth admits, looking to the elegant Ellaria fondly. She loves Cal very much, that is true, but she has developed a quick affection for the prince’s paramour in addition.

Ellaria looks to Cal and nods. “Why don’t you tell her?” She asks the former brothel worker. She feels like it would be much appreciated coming from the woman’s lover. Sliding away from his side, she walks over to you and takes your arm, turning to watch.

Cal nods, struggling to find words enough when something so momentous is within reach. Leyth was sold to Littlefinger in her twelfth year and has now lived as many years under his thumb as she had in freedom. “My love,” he murmurs, taking both of Leyth’s hands in his and pressing his forehead to hers gently. “The prince and Ellaria, they have…they have offered us a new path.” Placing her key in the palm of her hand, Cal closes his love’s fingers around the metal and nods when he sees the water rise behind her eyes. “She says we are welcome to follow them to Dorne and that there is room for us in the Red Keep as their servants if we wish it.”

“You would be most welcomed.” Ellaria assures the other woman. “But if you choose to go elsewhere, the prince will give you enough money to settle. As payment for the pleasure of your company over the past days.”

“Servants as in…a lady’s maid?” Leyth looks to you with hope in her eyes. The four of you have always been kind to her and to Cal, and she has begun to learn you over the last few days.

“If you wish it.” That would certainly be helpful to you, at the very least. Leyth is clever and very beautiful, and seems to be quite good at reading people’s needs. “But if you should ever find that it does not suit you, or you dislike it, I promise to release you from it with no malice. You should be free to choose your own path.” We all should, is the end of that thought, but you do not add it. It is best to remain unsaid in a room full of people who have not often had that option.

Cal holds her hand and squeezes it gently. “They offer us more than we can ever hope.” He murmurs softly. “It is a most gracious gift we have been handed.”

“Where you go, I go.” There is no question for her in that. Leyth squeezes Cal’s hands tightly and pushes up on her toes to kiss him softly. Normally it is an act that would see them scolded if not punished. Now, for the first time, they are unafraid.

Ellaria hums, pleased by their apparent agreement and she turns to smile at you. “We will need to dress them in something more appropriate, let us give them a moment and dig through our trunks?” She’s meaning hers and Oberyn’s, guiding you to the other room.

“What did Baelish say?” You move straight back to packing, bringing the things that were bought yesterday in the market over to your trunk to secure their safety. The necklace, books, and other trinkets are precious, of course. But the ring that Oberyn chose for you specifically sits on your finger right where it should. The most precious of them all.

“Baelish has fled the city.” Ellaria murmurs. “Apparently with Lady Sansa, Lord Tyrion’s wife.” She moves to her trunks and kneels down. Just like Raeden will wear Dornish colors, so will Cal and Leyth. “Amber for Leyth.” She murmurs to herself as she pulls out dresses.

“He will have gone home. The Fingers of the Vale hold little appeal for Petyr Baelish, but Lady Sansa is a niece of Lysa Arryn. I would wager my favorite boots that he has taken her there. To safety.” Carefully extracting a length of cloth to use as a wrap over your dress is the last order of business before locking your trunk. “Does Oberyn have more clothing to be bestowed? For Cal?”

“He does.” Ellaria motions towards his trunk. “Open it and find something for him. Will you?”

The freedom to simply explore your husband’s belongings is strange, but worth Ellaria giving you permission, you feel secure enough that he would not be upset. “He will be happy that they are coming with us.” For assistance as much as for pleasure, you are sure of that. “I only hope that things are not as dour at the keep as he predicts they may be.” A packet of clothing in the prince’s trunk looks to be similar - if a bit finer - to what the carriage driver was wearing the few times you have ridden at the prince’s side. “These will do well, I think?”

Ellaria glances over and nods. “Cal will look good in that.” She agrees with an approving smile. “Once we are back in Dorne, they will be free to wear what they wish. But while we are in King’s Landing, Oberyn would want them to wear symbols of his house.”

“He knows which rules to play by.” And which to disregard or flaunt, of course. But that is a part of his charm. “I will learn the rules that are different in Dorne. As quickly as I can.”

“Dorne will not be hard for you to master.” She laughs and shakes her head. “Despite the reputation they like to perpetuate here, we are civilized. And have greater respect for most under our care.”

“Dorne will expect their princess to have a spine.” The most you can do about that right now is shrug. “I seem only to find mine when my mother is being horrible or when someone I care about is endangered.”

“When you have been expected to be a pretty ornament, it is easy to be cowed.” Ellaria reminds you. “Yet when it counts, your spine is stronger than the Wall. You will do well when you realize your full potential.”

“I hope your faith in me is better founded than my own fear.” Faith which makes you bold enough to lean over and place a kiss on Ellaria’s cheek. “Thank you.”

She turns her head and presses her lips to yours firmly. Reaching up and holding your arms to hold the kiss for a long moment before she pulls away to stare into your eyes seriously. “The last thing I ever wish for you is any kind of hurt.”

“I feel the same.” You can promise her that, although you are reasonably certain that of the two of you, you are the only one left dizzy after a shared kiss. “You are a gift I did not realize that I needed.”

A cloud of doubt passes through her eyes but it’s blinked away and she smirks at you. “Of course I am.” She teases with a wink. “Let us see how the lovers are dealing with their change of fortune.”

“We have found you some new things.” You report with a smile when the door to the other room opens. “Symbols of a new life.” There are tears in Leyth’s eyes and she looks towards you and Ellaria with fear and joy in her expression. “There is no reason to cry.” Immediately stepping forward, both of your arms come around Leyth and you hug the younger woman to you in earnest. “I was scared at first, too. But you know the prince will treat you well. And I promise that I will, too.”

“There–” Leyth shakes her head and bites her lip. “There is something that I must confess before I accept your offer.”

“Tell me,” you insist, your hands moving to her arms to clasp her close. “Whatever it is, it cannot be as bad as so many tears.”

“I….cannot have children.” She admits with a sob and shake of her head. “If– the prince wanted to– I could not give him a child. Or anyone a child. Littlefinger made sure of it.”

“He made sure of it?” Your forehead pinches and your eyes narrow a little, trying to understand her meaning. “The prince will not be upset with you for not being able to bear his child. There are many women without that ability through the decree of the gods. But he may be very angry with Lord Baelish if he has hurt you in some way.”

“I was taken to a man when I was first bleeding.” She explains, looking between you and Ellaria. “He– I woke up in pain and was told that I would not bleed again. And I have not since then. Littlefinger appreciated that I would not have to rest the week of my bleeding like others.

“You have not bled since the first time?” That seems rather impossible to you. Or at least you have never heard of it.

“He took her womb.” Ellaria rasps through gritted teeth. Fury is etched into her face as deeply as your own confusion is. “To avoid losing profit.”

Leyth nods, relieved that Ellaria understands what she is saying but she shrinks back from the fury on the other woman’s face. She hates thinking that the beautiful woman would not find her worthy now of saving. “Yes. I– I am sorry. Littlefinger forbade me from speaking of it.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.” As horrified – and yes, confused – as Ellaria is angry, you reach for Leyth again instantly. “A terrible thing was done to you by a man who, I am sure, has done the same to countless others. It is despicable but it is certainly nothing for you to be sorry on.” Ellaria advances too, sure steps that have her sweeping the young woman up in her arm as surely as she is putting her other hand on your back. “There is nothing to fear from Oberyn,” she promises, all but coping softly the way a mother might to a frightened child. “There will be children enough in Dorne for you to be surrounded by if you wish it, and if you do not then send them off to their mothers or fathers or their ten thousand Sand siblings. You need not fear us, lover.” The last she promises with a sealed kiss, as tender as could possibly be from a woman who just moments ago looked ready to walk through each of the seven hells.

Leyth’s lips trembles against Ellaria’s, she had been so sure that the prince and his paramour might want to sire a child off of her, the idea had been proposed by several who had come to the brothel. She had no wish to disappoint the one pair she would have wished to do that for. Cal knew, but their love would have never been able to result in a child. Not here. She pulls back and looks towards both you and Ellaria. “I would be honored to be your lady’s maid.” She tells you both quietly. “I can serve you equally.”

“I am not a lady.” Ellaria reminds her, brushing her fingers over Leyth’s cheek.

“You are far more of one than you think.” Though you will never question her role in Oberyn’s life or her sense of self, you can certainly recognize that. “We will be honored to have your assistance, Leyth. Though the things we require your assistance for may differ slightly. And if you ever decide that service is not the life you wish to lead, you have only to tell us.”

Looking over at Cal, she nods. “You have treated us better in the few days we have been together than probably any other time in our lives.” She gushes, reaching up and covering Ellaria’s hand with her own. “The Seven surely sent you.”

“The Red Keep will not be an easy place.” Ellaria warns them. “Oberyn will be strict, but he trusts you both.”

“Of course he must be strict.” She knows that, especially because of the tensions have been rising around the city with the king’s murder. “It cannot be any worse than the brothel with the worst customers.”

“Far less, I should think.” Whatever small comfort you can manage to offer, you’re certainly going to. “Whatever packing you have to do or goodbyes you want to say, go and do them. We cannot be sure when the prince will return and our move to the Red Keep will be swift.”

“Yes my lady.” Leyth beams and bows respectfully before turning and grabbing Cal’s hand to disappear.

“That is one less issue,” you sigh softly. Leyth and Cal seem positively eager for their change in fortunes now that Leyth’s fears have been allayed. “What else is there for us to do here? Only finish packing?” Ellaria knows more of the prince’s belongings than you do and will know of anything is out of place.

“Finish packing and pick out outfits for us to arrive to the Keep.” Ellaria tells you. “He will want to make a statement.”

A statement from Prince Oberyn could be any number of things, but you nod. He had mentioned that there were gowns in his trunk that were meant to be gifts for you. It seems like now would be the time to look for them.

“They will not be as scandalous as you could wear.” She assures you. “However, they are bold dresses.”

“I think anything bold would be scandalous from me,” you half joke, pulling out a gown of fine silk that shines with the same orange as fire. The skirts flutter like leaves on the breeze and the sleeves are no more than glistening gold chains that cling to a cuff to hold their shape. It is nothing like the structured gowns you have worn in the past and would show your body’s natural figure to advantage even while being modestly covered. “Do you have a necklace like the one the prince gave me?” You ask Ellaria, holding the dress up to the mirror in the wall. “The more delicate version of what he wears around his neck?”

“I do.” Ellaria nods. She rarely wears it, as it is meant for the official Martell royals, but he had insisted that she have one after the birth of Elia. “What is your clever mind thinking?”

“That we ought to appear as united as possible.” It is only too bad that there is not also one for Raeden, but perhaps in time. “The three of us would look quite the formidable party if we arrived wearing them together.”

“Of course we will.” She hums happily. “And Raeden will look resplendent in his Dornish colors.”

"He will. That is – he already does." You fluster slightly, as if you feel guilty for being caught not mentioning him quite enough. "I wish we had time to commission a banner for him. For House Stone. But that cannot be done in just one day."

“No, he will need to make sure his banner is something impressive.” Ellaria agrees. “One that he can build a legacy with.”

“I know it is not the name he thought he would make for himself.” Smoothing the dress in your arms, you hesitate for a moment but turn to drape the silk over the nearby bed. “But what he has wanted, more than anything, is to make his family proud. Whether that family will be his parents or this new House, I cannot say. It is only that…I wish for him to have the entire world of happiness. The Seven have surely heard his prayers, and I hope they have heard mine as well.”

“You do understand that he might have to marry?” She broaches the subject carefully. “As a new, emerging house, he would need to have legitimate children.”

“I…am not anxious to think about it. Which is unfair, as he was made to stand by and witness my own marriage.” Being able to admit that to Ellaria is both surprising but also a circumstance that makes you sick to your stomach. “It is surely not a thought for this immediate moment, is it?”

“Of course not.” She smiles and nods, reaching out to pat your hand. “We must get through our challenge of staying in the Red Keep first.”

“Although I am certain the thought will fester now that it has a voice.” You shake your head and step back toward the bed, willing yourself to focus on the task at hand.

“I– apologize.” She murmurs softly. “I should not have spoken on it.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.” She, of all people, understands your own distress at knowing your soulmate’s marriage is now inevitable. “After all…whoever the woman will be…is she not to me, exactly who I am to you?”

“Perhaps.” She nods slightly, not giving voice to the thought that had already passed. She could not break your heart that way and still has not come to terms with it herself.

“I should be lucky if I like her even half as much as you seem to like me.” That is, you should think, too much to even dream of. Whoever Raeden ultimately gives his name to — that wonderfully lucky woman — you can see yourself disliking her in principle. Like some pride-driven mad woman who masks her grief with seeming greed.

“I should hope you would.” Ellaria admits quietly and then changes the subject. “Let us get ready for our latest challenge and face it, putting away these issues.”

“Practical and wise.” The smile you offer her this time is genuine. Unstrained and earnest. “Would you like me to help you change?”

“No.” Ellaria quickly shakes her head and her smile turns sultry. “If you help me change, then we will will get too distracted to manage anything else. Since I put a dagger in the hand of Littlefinger’s man, I feel like we should abandon this place with as much haste as we can muster.”

“You—?” That is unexpected news indeed, and you very nearly snap forward to attention. “Yes, I think you are very right. We should be ready to go just as soon as Raeden and Oberyn return.”

Relieved that you believe the potential reason for her denial, she motions towards your room. “Go change and finish packing. I will join you soon.”

**

The air seems thicker around the Red Keep than it did in Flea Bottom despite there being fewer people and less activity. The world stands still here, in a way, though most lives continue as usual even in the wake of the king’s passing. The cloud of grief around the keep seems almost tangible, though. As if it were its own living and breathing entity. When the carriage stops at the steps of the fortress that your party will now call home, the collective inhale you take with Oberyn and Ellaria feels like sailors waiting for their ship to capsize. None of you wants to be here and it is each for your own reasons. At least - mercifully - the hand that helps you out of the carriage is Raeden’s this time. He had insisted on riding ahead of the carriage to keep an eye out for anything unusual. Now he squeezes your hand as you step down onto firm ground and offers you a subtle nod that is a promise: Nothing is going to harm you. Not while he is around.

Raeden nods respectfully, his dark eyes on you for a long moment before he finally withdraws his hand to help Ellaria from the carriage. Oberyn will come out last and the carriage behind you with the luggage, Cal and Leyth is already being unloaded. “My ladies.” Raeden bows as he backs up and then stands tall to place his hand on his sword hilt.

There has not been a time since your very first visit to King's Landing that you have actually enjoyed spending time in the Red Keep, and now you feel your own dread run parallel to the prince's. There are people here you would both prefer to avoid and places you would rather not revisit. While Cal and Leyth spirit your trunks away with footman and the prince's driver takes the carriage away to be stored elsewhere on the grounds, you find yourself grateful that Raeden is at your left while Oberyn is on your right. Ellaria on the prince's other arm makes the four of you a veritable wall of formidability. Or it would, if not for the powder-white specter of Queen Margaery waiting to receive you just inside the walls of the keep.

“Prince and Princess Martell.” She smiles graciously, although she is still adorned in head to toe black and then clasps her hands together as her eyes flutter towards Ellaria. “And esteemed guest.” She doesn’t know Ellaria’s name officially, but she nods respectfully. “Welcome to the Red Keep.”

The situation is...precious. To term it gently. And though Margaery was married to the king and she is being hailed as queen by many, it was abundantly clear to all present that the new couple did not have the opportunity to consummate their vows -- which technically renders the marriage void now that King Joffrey has died. Still, you bow your head in respect. "Ellaria Sand, your Majesty." It is a choice, to acknowledge her as queen, and you make it because you know it will annoy Cersei Lannister which will in turn amuse Oberyn. "And Ser Raeden Stone." Your left hand waves to the man to your other side. "Of House Stone."

“House Stone.” Her brow arches in surprise and her eyes fall down to the newly carved signet ring. Her eyes flicker over to Oberyn and understanding flashes in their depths. “Well Ser Stone, I have a feeling you will be very welcomed at court.” She purrs with a small smile. “It has been a long time since there has been new blood.”

As proud as he is - as the title and the reality of it makes him - Raeden draws up just a mite taller despite knowing how many ill intentions truly lurk within the halls of society. "Thank you, your Majesty," he intones with an appropriately deep bow. If only his father could see him now. Speaking to the queen as a peer. Even with Oberyn between you, you can feel the sheer effort it takes Ellaria not to look over at you. Considering the conversation you so determinedly agreed not to have earlier today, your stomach nearly drops with dread. A fact which you hope does not cause the poised and placid expression on your face to waver. "You are very kind to welcome us, your Majesty. I am sure the day has been most trying for you."

“It is not how I expected to spend my first days as a Baratheon.” She admits before she turns to Prince Oberyn. “The rooms you have requested have been prepared and I will inform the servants that Ser Raeden is amongst you. Oberyn shakes his head, unwilling to let go of either of you. “It will not be necessary.” He tells her. “We have decided not to impress your staff with more work and brought our own servants. Ser Raeden is my hand to see about making sure all I wish to accomplish in King’s Landing is done.” He smirks. “It will be good lessons for setting up his own noble household.”

Never mind that Raeden has always lived more amongst servants than he has any experience in ordering them about, he does not fidget or flinch at your side when royalty speaks directly about him. It will be plenty to wrap his head around later on, out of sight. "Perhaps your Grace would enjoy a walk through the gardens later?" Remembering what Oberyn had told you about fostering a friendship with the queen, you are not about to disappoint him now, and you step forward to offer her your hands. "This time must be so trying for you and you have been so kind to me. Allow me to return the favor."

“It seems as though you have robbed the Vale of the kindest woman amongst them.” Margaery looks as though she’s been saved from a hanging noose and reaches out to clasp your free hand. “Perhaps your– Ellaria, would also like to join us?” While she is not one that normally visits with mistresses, this will upset Cersei and she knows that the woman is very close to the prince. To bestow her kindness would only be looked upon favorably and she needs allies.

Unsure what Ellaria might answer to that, you know better than to accept or deny the invitation on her behalf. "That decision would be entirely up to Ellaria, but I think it might be a marvelous way to lift your spirits."

A silent conversation passes between the prince and his paramour before she turns to the queen. “I cannot comprehend turning down an offer from the queen.” Ellaria proses elegantly. “The Princess and I will rally your spirits in such a desperately sad time.”

"We will certainly do everything we can." You squeeze the queen's hands gently before letting go of them. "Thank you for the kind respect of being here to greet our party, but we will not take more of your valuable time this afternoon." Being seen, being received, and then making yourselves scarce will make you worth talking about. It is a tactic taught to you by your oldest brother. "We will call on you tomorrow morning for our garden walk, if that is convenient for you."

“Perfect.” She nods and smiles before she turns away and tries to walk away with her head held high, but there is a nervous tension that was not there before.

You turn back to your group with an expression of bewilderment and reach to grasp Ellaria's hand as if in apology. It is not as though you could tell the queen 'no'. "I think tomorrow morning will be very eventful for us."

“She is scared.” Ellaria watches the path the queen had skittered away on and turns to you and Oberyn. “She is looking for protection if needed.”

"We will see what we can divine tomorrow?" Rather than the statements of surety you had shared with the queen, with your husband you are more inclined to ask questions. To make sure you are doing things that fall in line with whatever his plans might be.

Oberyn nods and he slides his hand up to both of your cheeks. “Get into her confidence. We will need to know what is happening that isn’t being brought before the small council.”

"I will." You would do practically anything he asked of you but simply had not realized it yet. What you do consciously is nod into his hands as though he has given you the most precious instruction in the world.

"Good girl." It is not meant to be demeaning, just praise. Oberyn's eyes soften towards you and his fingers curl slightly, admiring your willingness to enter the games of intrigue and subterfuge that most nobility insisted on playing. He played it as well, but only when it suited him. Leaning in, his kiss is not demanding, but it is a statement to any who pass through the bailey of the keep.

You let it linger longer than you should, you know that. But the infatuation you have with your husband only seems to grow and he is the first person you have ever been allowed to show affection for in public. In fact, he encourages it. Something which you now take full advantage of and let this kiss last as long as it naturally wishes to before pulling away.

“Go settle into our rooms.” He urges you softly, turning to Ellaria. “I will have a meeting with the small council and don’t know when I will be back.”

Ellaria’s own kiss for Oberyn is deeply passionate, and she nods when she pulls away. “I will be waiting for you, lover.” The small smile on her lips twists in your direction. “But I cannot promise that your bride will not have ensconced herself in the library already.”

“Then we will have to drag her away come time to dine together.” Oberyn chuckles. “I imagine there will be several books laying around.”

Your cheeks burn with the teasing but you grin, and even Raeden chuckles softly. “It would not be the first time she has missed a meal for the desire to continue reading.”

“I wonder if she will be so inclined to read her book if her cunt is being licked.” Oberyn muses.

“Gods, Oberyn!” Despite the curse, and the obvious embarrassment, the smile on your lips is pleased and affectionate. It is as if the days of doubting you could care for him have evaporated into air.

He chuckles and steps back, looking towards Raeden. “We will be back soon.” He promises, “but you will be in the small council meeting with me. As my hand.”

“I have never heard of a prince having his own hand.” Raeden’s eyebrow raises, making a smirk. “We will surely be the most talked of arrivals. Although I gather that was your plan all along.”

“Always make an impression.” Oberyn advises seriously, though his own smirk plays on his lips. “It will keep them guessing.”

“As you say, my lord.” Both men look as if they might end up giggling at any moment when Raeden nods and steps back for the prince to lead the way.

“It is good to see that Raeden has become more comfortable around Oberyn.” Ellaria observes, dropping the ‘your’ from her normal description of the man.

“I think perhaps we are all a little more relaxed than we might have been at first.” Certainly you are, though your gratitude for Ellaria and admiration for her are entirely mixed up together.

“It is a new situation for all of us, some discomfort was to be expected at the beginning.” She links her arm through yours and leans into you. “I know my lover did not disappoint you.”

“I—” Embarrassment burns Your face as you begin to walk together, and you have to scold yourself not to look down at your feet. The prince wants you to make an impression but surely not one of an embarrassed schoolgirl. “I should not be surprised that you heard. I imagine those down the hall did as well…”

“He is good at dealing either pleasure or pain.” She hums in amusement. “You should have seen him in the fighting pits. Bloody and sweaty coming out victorious and then ready to fuck all night.”

“Somehow I have no trouble imagining that.” And yet the idea of the man you have married being in the fighting pits at all now terrifies you so you change the subject immediately - landing on a topic that makes you only mildly less sick. “Raeden prefers lovemaking.”

“He is a sweet lover.” Her eyes cut over to you and she flusters slightly. “I hope that our own interlude did not cause any offense?”

“That would be horrifyingly hypocritical of me.” There will never be precisely a good time to breach the subject, but you clear your throat softly and lower your voice. “It had been discussed— that is, between the prince and myself — that..” Desperate to be discreet, you look around you and lower your voice again to barely murmur to Ellaria. “That I will no longer take my tea in the mornings…”

Eyes widening slightly, Ellaria lights up. “A new babe.” She breathes out, almost dreamily. “The entirety of Dorne would be celebrating their birth. A new prince or princess.”

“Then I hope they are swift in their arrival and possessing wonderful health.” Having the first person you tell be the woman who has already borne four of his children makes you nervous in a way you had not expected. As though there may be some part of the creation of the babe that you do not yet know of. “I am anxious for it, but also excited. At the moment I am not sure which is more dominant.”

“It will be strange and wonderful.” She promises, smiling softly. “Oberyn was a most attentive partner while I was carrying all four of my own Sand Snakes. I have no doubt he will be equally enamored with your changing body.”

"It...does mean that I ought to lie with him often..." Something which does exactly present you with any kind of hardship but it does affect the dynamic of your small group.

“Of course.” She knows that. “But it also means that Raeden shouldn’t spill inside you.” She cautions.

“I know.” Biting your lip as you turn another corner and begin to ascend a flight of stairs with Ellaria, you chance to look over at her and keep your voice low. “There are…other ways to enjoy ourselves. Some of which he is better acquainted with than I.”

Your name, your real name comes off her lips and she pauses as if she is about to tell you something before she shakes her head and chuckles. “All will be well.” She assures you.

“Did something happen?” Ellaria has not called you by your name since the first night you met, and though that was only days ago it still brings you concern to hear it. “Have I said something wrong?”

“Nothing.” She squeezes your arm tighter and hustles you along. “I do not believe you could be more perfect if the Seven had created you for our lives.”

She pulls you along beside her with a smile on your lips and though you go willingly, there is an ache in you that you cannot name. Perhaps it is doubt, more than any other thing, but there is something tinging it that makes your smile falter. Nothing about you is perfect. Especially not for people as wonderful as Raeden, Oberyn, and Ellaria.

______

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[frankcastleonlyfans]

𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐀𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐈𝐄𝐒

pairing: aemond targaryen x daemon's daughter!oc (dad!daemon x mom!reader au)

warnings: angsty (?), aemond is a bookworm and a worried father, alyssa couldn't care less about old lady vhagar, they both have trouble with their feelings about each other.

author's note: i really love alymond's relationship. they're top tier enemies to lovers and i'm living for them. also, the face claim for alyssa is freya allen as ciri in the witcher, so picture her with silver hair and violet eyes.

reblogs, feedbacks and likes are appreciated. support your content creators 💓 please leave a comment if you like my work, and enjoy your reading.

gif by @useraelin

· ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · ୨♡୧ · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ·

Alyssa always had trouble sleeping. Is something Daemon had, and passed it on to his favorite child.

On these sleepless nights, the young princess would find distraction in old pages from the old books on the old shelves at the library inside the Keep.

Her favorite place in the castle, Alyssa had great memories there, where her father taught her high-valyrian, where she used to play hide from her septa, and where she would find refuge from insomnia.

What she did not know is that Prince Aemond shared the same feelings about the library. The place where he had studied his whole life, to be better and smarter than everyone else.

So she wasn't expecting to find the Prince's slim figure, sitting in one of the armchairs in front of the fireplace, reading a book.

Blushing, Alyssa gulped, quite startled by the sight of her cousin. He wasn't wearing his eyepatch, and his sapphire glowed in the firelight.

She had a full view of the scar she gave him.

They had not seen each other since they shared a kiss, four days ago.

"I believe the hour of the owl is not up for little girls to be out of bed." Aemond muttered, too focused on his book.

"Fuck off, Aemond." The princess retorted, and went in search of a book.

When she found one she was familiar with, she wandered around the room, looking for a warm place to sit, but none was better than the empty armchair by the fireplace, beside Prince Aemond.

"You can sit here, I won't bite." He voiced in a murmur, and his eye never left the old page he read, to look at the princess.

Alyssa sat on the armchair, and stared at the cover of the book without saying a word.

Perhaps the princess thought that ignoring her cousin would make the moment less awkward, but it didn't.

It wasn't very often that Aemond was seen without his eyepatch, and she tried hard not to stare.

She thought he was already gorgeous, but that precious stone that replaced his eye made him look something more.

"What are you reading?" The princess asked lowly.

"Now you want to do small talk?" Aemond cocked an eyebrow as his smirk threatened to make an appearance.

Alyssa tsked, rolling her eyes.

"I'm reading a chapter about the life expectancy of dragons. Vhagar is not getting any younger, and if something happens to her..."

"Didn't Balerion die at 200 and something? Isn't Vhagar like... 180?" The princess questioned.

"181." Aemond corrected.

"Gods, that thing is really old." Alyssa mocked, playing with her fingers.

Aemond finally turned his head to face her. His sapphire glowed to the firelight, the beautiful shade of blue contrasting with the prince's pale skin tone.

"She's the last living piece from the conquest. You should pay some respect."

Alyssa scoffed, "Aemond, she's a living burden. She's as slow as she's big. You should hope she dies so you can claim a better dragon. Maybe the wild ones will let you tame–"

Aemond slammed his hand against the arm of the chair, offended by the princess' idea.

"You have no idea what it’s like to be dragonless! They're what makes us what we are! Dreams didn't make us kings, dragons did!" Aemond closed the book in his hands harshly.

"I–" The princess frowned. She was quite hurt that her words actually affected him. "I am sorry, Aemond. It wasn't my intention to make you angry."

Aemond sighed, staring at the book resting in the princess' hands. She had not opened that book once since she took it out of it's shelf.

"What is yours about?" Aemond nodded at the book. Alyssa followed his direction to her hands.

"Tales of Old Valyria." She murmured, "It's my favorite book."

"Oh. I've read this one. It's m– hm, It's really good." Aemond bit his lip, turning his back to her and facing the fire.

They stayed in silent for a couple of minutes, but there was nothing comfortable about it. It was awkwardly strange, and Alyssa still felt bad for mocking Vhagar.

And she couldn't stop thinking about the kiss, and how Aemond's soft lips felt against hers.

And how handsome he is without his eyepatch.

And his scar... the one made by her hands. She felt bad about that, for the first time. They were just children. Stupid children, she thought.

"I'm sorry."

Aemond half turned to her. He wondered if she was really talking to him, and what she felt sorry about.

"I– I'm sorry about your eye." Alyssa whispered, her voice could barely be heard.

Aemond chuckled softly, "You're a few years late, Alyssa."

It took him a few seconds before he added;

"I'm sorry about your cat."

The princess smirked, staring at the man in front of her.

Aemond was so different from what he normally looked like.

His hair was tied in a low ponytail, and it rested on his shoulder.

He wore linen clothes, like he was off to bed. And yet there he was, in front of her. Both alone, in the library, during the late hours.

And to the fire that warmed the space around them, Alyssa was sure he was the most handsome man she had ever seen.

"You're a few years late, Aemond."