#I'll get over you I know I will‚ I'll pretend my ship's not sinking

[respectthepetty]

It's all fun and games until the colors hurt my feelings.

Alexa, play the New Found Glory version of "King of Wishful Thinking"

[vodika-vibes]

omg I can absolutely request something for kix, literally I'll take anything i love him so much

i'm not too fussy but maybe something hurt/comfort vibes with non-established relationship? if that takes your fancy, can be sfw or nsfw however it works out

love your writing sm :)

Watching Over You

Summary: ou know that Kix is “dealing” with his new truth by not dealing with it, and you know it’s only a matter of time before he falls apart. You’ll be there for him, until he no longer needs you.

Pairing: Pre Pirate!Kix x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1113

Warnings: Kix is straight up not having a good time.

A/N: So, this could be seen as platonic or pre-romantic, but I'm happy with it, but that might just be because it's Kix. Anyway, I hope you like it!

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“Alright, we’re all set,” You say as you step out of the shop while tugging your new gloves over your hands, “You sure you don’t need anything while we’re here?”

“From Nar Shaddaa?” Kix asks, as he tears his gaze away from a stall selling, probably stolen, speeders. “Hard pass. How do you know those are going to be any good?”

“Leather gloves are leather gloves, babe.” You counter as you hold your, now glove-covered, hands in front of your face, “They don’t need to be the best leather gloves in the galaxy, they just need to be able to protect my hands from the cold.”

Kix huffs, “You should let me run some blood tests. There’s no reason for you to be cold all of the time–”

“Hard pass, Doc.” You counter, “If I’m dying from some blood disease, I don’t want to know.”

Kix sighs again, and finally focuses his attention on you, “You’re impossible.”

“And yet still so adorable.”

“You keep telling yourself that.”

“Thanks! I will.”

He shoots you a look, and you grin at him, “Come on, Kix. Let’s get out of here before the Hutts take offense at our presence.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He falls into step next to you, while you chatter his ear off about anything and everything that crosses your mind.

In the almost year that you’ve known, and traveled, with Kix, you’ve learned that he doesn’t like quiet. When there’s too much quiet he gets lost in his own mind, and starts spiraling.

And so, you fill the silence with stories, with mindless chatter, with music or movies or shows. Anything and everything you can do to make his suffering a little easier, you will do.

Honestly, you’ve never spoken so much in your life as you have in the past year.

You stop mid-sentence, when you glance to the side and realize that Kix is no longer walking with you. Quickly, you scan the crowd around you, and you quickly find him.

At first, you’re not sure what caught his attention, but as you approach him, you see what his gaze is locked on, and your heart sinks. He’s standing in front of an electronics store. An electronics store that has a massive holo showing a documentary about Darth Vader and his 501st.

Your jaw clenches and you slowly exhale, before you move to his side and wrap your arms around his arm, “Kix.” You keep your gaze on his face, on the pained, almost lost, expression that he wears when he’s lost in the past, “It’s time to go.”

He doesn’t react to your voice, but he also doesn’t stop you when you start tugging him away from the shop. And he doesn’t fight you when you walk him back to the spaceport and back to your ship.

In fact, in spite of your chatter, Kix is completely silent. 

He doesn’t say anything until you’re back on your ship. “Hey, can we wait a bit before we take off?”

You watch him for a moment, “Why?”

“I’d like a proper shower, and the water shower doesn’t work properly in space.” Kix replies.

“Mm, yeah. Okay.”

You pretend that you don’t notice him grabbing the portable holo as he heads into the fresher, and half an hour later, when you hear a quiet sob from the fresher, you turn on some music so he can have some privacy.

There’s no way for you to understand his grief.

Kix once had 2 million brothers…and now he’s alone in the galaxy. Only, he’s not alone, he has you, and he’ll continue to have you until he no longer needs you. And even then, you’ll stick around until he tells you to leave.

Personal loyalty to your friends has always been your fatal flaw, according to your old school teachers.

When he finally emerges from the fresher, his eyes are red and he looks exhausted. Bone deep exhausted.

You watch him for a moment, and then you sigh, “Kix,”

He glances at you, “I’m fine.”

“You’re not okay, Kix. And that’s okay.” You set the bowl that you were using to make some meatballs on the counter and walk over to him to take his hands in yours, “I...have given you your space, but maybe I shouldn’t have.”

“Listen, you don’t have to do this.”

You squeeze his hands, “Yes, I do. I…cannot even begin to understand the kind of loss that you suffered. I can’t. No one can. But you’re not alone in this.”

“My whole family is dead, cyare.”

“That doesn’t mean you’re alone.” You counter, “I will be here for you, for as long as you accept it. And probably longer.”

He stares at you, and then he sighs and drops his cheek on the top of your head while hooking his arms around your waist, “I don’t deserve you.”

“You’re wrong about that too, but I can be patient with you.”

The pair of you don’t say anything for a while, “What are you making?”

“Meatballs. We’re having pasta for dinner. With homemade noodles.”

“Huh. Have you made the dough yet?”

You smile at him, “Nope, I know you like that part. The ingredients are in the fridge.”

Later, as he’s kneading the dough while you sing along to the radio and form meatballs, he turns down the music and glances at you out of the corner of his eye.

“What’s up?” You ask, without looking at him.

“Can I sleep with you tonight? I don’t want to be alone.”

“Whatever you need, Kix. You just need to ask.” You reply, turning to look at him with a fond smile on your face.

He’s quiet for a moment, and then he sighs, “Also…?”

“Hm?”

“Do you think you can put me in contact with Luke Skywalker? I’d like to get to know him…and maybe share some stories about his dad.”

“Mm, I don’t know if I can get you in contact with Master Skywalker, but I can probably get you in contact with General Organa-Solo.” You reply lightly, “She might be able to get you in touch with Master Skywalker.”

“...thanks, cyare.”

“Like I said, Kix. Whatever you need. For however long you need it.”

The pair of you go back to your respective projects and as you finish forming the last meatball and pull your food prep gloves off, he reaches over and takes your hand in his, “Thank you.”

You grin at him and thread your fingers with his to give his hand a squeeze, “No worries, Kix. I’ll watch over you until you’re ready to look after yourself. And then I’ll keep doing it. That’s what I do.”

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@rebell-ious

[something-tofightfor]

Fool's Gold 6: Storms Will Pass and I'll Remain

Pairing: Pirate Oberyn Martell x Female Reader (with a twist)

Rating: M.

Word Count: 9,954

Summary: With the pirates taken care of and the truth revealed, you and Oberyn have a lot to talk about. There's only hours to go until you reach Dorne, which means that everything's about to change ... again. Even with Oberyn's assurances, your fears get the better of you, and there's no hiding it.

Author's Note:

IT'S PEDROTOBER 2024 OBERYN MARTELL DAY!!! I couldn't let the day pass without posting.

This is a little longer than expected, but I didn't want to drag out the final hours on the ship more than necessary. I cannot wait to get to Dorne - and hope you're excited, too.

If you want to talk about this story (or any of my others) please feel free to pop into my inbox or DMs!

Chapter title comes from "The Stormchaser" by Caligula's Horse.

Fool's Gold Masterlist

You went back onto the ship’s top deck, Oberyn walking a few paces ahead of you. 

Even in the short time you’d been down in his quarters, the crew had made progress with cleaning up after the attack. 

The wood had been scrubbed free of blood, crates and barrels were stacked back into place, and the prisoners were nowhere to be found. There are no bodies either. You wondered what had been done with them - if they’d been moved back onto the other ship or simply tossed into the water, made into meals for the creatures that lurked below. 

The smell of smoke filled the air and you turned toward the source, watching as the pirates’ ship burned in the distance. “It was necessary.” He touched your arm, drawing your attention back in his direction. “They would have chased us if we’d just let them go back onboard.” 

“And now if they make it to one of the islands and are rescued, they’ll just talk about how they need to find the Blood Adder’s ship.” He nodded. “And this ship won’t be sailing anywhere anytime soon, will it?” 

“No.” You made your way to the same area you’d first spoken in, Oberyn gesturing for you to sit. “No, she’ll need some repairs, and new sails. The next time anyone sees her…” He looked up, eyes lingering on the wheel. “She’ll be a Dornish pleasure ship again.”

“That’s been true this whole time, though.” He smiled at your words, taking a seat next to you. “I understand why you didn’t tell me the truth right away, Oberyn, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t upset.” 

“I know.” He clasped his hands together, one thumb spinning the golden ring on the other. “And I am sorry for lying to you.” He paused long enough to let the apology sink in. “I thought, at first, that you knew who I was.” What? “I thought you were pretending to have no memory and that you recognized me since you knew so much about Oberyn. I assumed it was all a ruse, and because I was finally on my way home, I was … worried.” 

“I didn’t, and it wasn’t.” You bit your lip, wincing as you felt the wound on your side pull. “I thought … I thought that some things about you and this ship didn’t seem right, but I never thought you were Prince Oberyn Martell.” He smiled at that, still staring out at the horizon. “Now, it makes sense, though.” 

“How?” He angled his body toward you, eyes narrowed. “What wasn’t right?” 

“Your hands aren’t rough enough to have lived a life on the sea. You spent far too much time with me to captain the ship.” You looked down at your hands, thinking. “You and your crew are too kind, especially to a woman like me.” You pointed at the plume of smoke. “If they’d found me? There would have been no question about what my future held.” 

He didn’t disagree, but Oberyn did say your name then, reaching over to take one of your hands. He held it gently, eyes downcast to focus on where you were connected. 

“I left the drawers unlocked and the journals out, even in the beginning. But you didn’t read them. You could have at any time, but you didn’t.” He was right - and that reminder made his reaction to you not reading Oberyn’s letters much more understandable, too. He tried to tell me even when he had no reason to trust me. 

“Your promises make more sense now, too.” You held up your other hand, his ring still on your finger. “To keep me safe and to give me choices?” You wiggled your fingers, his gaze rising briefly to watch. “This has a version of the Martell sigil on it, doesn’t it?” He nodded. “Do the people in Tyrosh know that -”

“There are rumors.” He smiled, the expression smug. “The only people that truly know are Doran, Ellaria, my oldest children, the crew on this ship, and a few friends in port cities that I couldn’t avoid.” Of course. “And now you.” 

The gold glinted in the sunlight, and for the first time, you realized exactly what it meant that you were under the protection of the Dornish Prince. “You meant it. You meant that I had a choice about Perle and Oldtown. You meant that I didn’t have to go, and -”

“I did. I do.” He tightened his grip on your hand. “I will invite that Lord to Sunspear and lie to his face about finding pieces of your ship and an empty raft if remaining in Sunspear with me is what you choose. I know you’re worried about your parents, but as I said before, there are options, even though in my opinion they don’t deserve them.” 

Hearing him speak about your parents that way hurt - but not as much as you’d thought it would. Because I think the same, too. They didn’t care where they sent me as long as it meant they survived.

He was right. It wasn’t just that you’d been picked up by a pirate and had a chance at a new life in a far off land when he set you free. Oberyn had promised you a place to stay and whatever type of life you chose in Dorne, including a job. “But if you’re Oberyn Martell, that means that your … that when we get to Dorne, Ellaria will be there. And I’ll just be …” 

If he’d gone back to just a woman he was in love with, that would have been one thing. But Oberyn and Ellaria’s devotion to each other - and the lengths they’d go to prove it - was one of the best known facts in the realm. But so is the understanding that they seek others out often. That realization brought up another thing for you to consider, though. 

“Ellaria won’t like that you’re returning after so long with someone. I know you two don’t have a conventional relationship, but -”

“You don’t have to worry about that.” He moved closer, changing his grip on your hand so that he could slide his fingers between yours. “She will understand, especially when Nymeria and Obara tell her what they know.” You thought back to their surprise when they’d seen his ring on your hand, and that memory made you react almost violently. 

“Take this back.” You pulled your hand free and removed the jewelry, holding it out to him. “I have no business wearing this when we return to your home. It served its purpose, and I’m thankful, but …” But I cannot arrive in Dorne wearing a piece of your jewelry on my finger when Ellaria doesn’t. “But I won’t need it in Dorne.” 

“No, you won’t.” He took the ring back and slipped it on, flexing the digits a few times. “You must have many questions. What’s on those pages answered some things, but … there is so much I couldn’t put into written words.” 

“You were injured in the attack.” He nodded, swallowing. “How did you survive that?”

“When I was stabbed, I went overboard. I’m a good fighter, but in those moments, it was safer for me and my crew to let them think they’d won. I am a strong swimmer, even injured, and I managed to reach one of the below deck windows and climb back onto the ship.” He paused, thinking. “I hid for hours behind a stack of crates, waiting until we were underway again before I snuck out and found some of my men.” 

“I bet they were surprised.” He cocked his head to the side and winked at you. 

“Not as surprised as you might think.” That made you laugh, and when he reached over to take your hand again, you let him, curling your fingers against his. “It was much easier than you’d imagine to overtake the pirates in the darkness and take my ship back.” He nodded. “I killed the man who took this ship with the same weapon that Cersei’s lapdog thought he killed me with. And once they were all gone, the healer finally tended to my wounds.” 

“And you’ve just been sailing around since?” He nodded. “No one wanted to go home? Your whole crew just decided to -”

“A few of them did, and we let them. They were how we got word to Doran and Ellaria and my daughters that I survived. They were the proof my family needed to prepare for the news from King’s Landing and Cersei fucking Lannister.” He snarled the words out and then lowered his head, scoffing. “And we have been sailing ever since, waiting for the right time to go home and reveal to the world that I am still alive and still angry.”

“And now’s the right time.” He nodded twice. “Because of Prince Doran’s health.”

“It has worsened.” Oberyn closed his eyes. “A Martell has ruled Dorne for as long as it has existed, and that will not change. If … when my brother is no longer able to remain in power, my nephew will need guidance.” 

“So you’re going home for good.” He nodded again, his eyes still on the horizon. “Will Cersei try to kill you again?” 

“She’s got bigger problems now.” He smiled, the expression almost soft. “The Dragon Queen. Her own people rebelling against her. Losing two of her sons to death and her daughter to us.” He turned his head, meeting your eyes. “My daughters tell me that Princess Myrcella has fallen in love with Trystane, and does not want to leave Dorne.” 

“A Baratheon and a Martell? That’s quite the surprising pairing.” 

“Hmm.” He nodded, taking a deep breath before his smile turned into a smirk. “It will surprise you more to hear that Baratheon isn’t even the girl’s correct name.” 

There had been rumors that had made their way to Braavos; whispers of Cersei and her own brother together, but you’d never believed any of them. It wasn’t because you didn’t think it possible, instead it was because there’d only been the whispers - and nothing certain. 

“Oberyn, are you saying …” You moved slightly closer, head shaking back and forth. “That the rumors are truths? That the King Robert isn’t actually -”

“I am.” He cleared his throat. “And you can believe me when I say that in Dorne, we care very little what a child’s parentage is, or how it impacts their status or who anyone chooses to love … but a brother and sister passing their children off as future kings or queens under another banner?” His jaw was set. “No. Even that is not acceptable in Dorne, and even a Lannister child deserves better.” 

“But Cersei will want to attend the wedding.” You crossed your arms. “And if it’s in Dorne, then you’ll be in danger. Again.” You didn’t want to think about it; Oberyn fearing for his life in his own home just because a woman was hellbent on revenge.

“We will make those plans when the time comes.” Oberyn reached over and settled his hand on your knee. “They are still a few years away from marriage. And Cersei … she may not have that much time left.” 

You didn’t know what he meant by that. You wanted to ask, but didn’t want to overwhelm him with questions or get overwhelmed with his answers - and so you chose another route - and entirely changed the topic of conversation. “When we get to Dorne tomorrow, what … what will I do?” 

“You’ll come with me to my home. You’ll greet my brother. You’ll meet Ellaria. We’ll tell your story, and then you’ll go off and take a real bath and eat a real meal. You’ll sleep in a real bed, but still have the sounds of the sea coming in through the window, and then …” His smile grew, one of Oberyn’s hands rising so that he could cradle your cheek against his palm. “And then I will show you the place where I was raised.” 

“The palace?” He nodded, swallowing. 

“And the Water Gardens, and the orchards and the markets. All of it. I’m going to make you fall in love with Dorne.” 

“It sounds like it won’t be that difficult for you.” He grinned at your words, shrugging as he pulled his hand back and rested both atop his thighs. “Oberyn, I know … I know that you haven’t been home in a long time, and when you get there, you’ll have things to do.” You paused, looking down at your hands and then back over at him. I might as well say it; we’re both thinking it. “You and Ellaria have a lot of lost time to make up for.” 

“We do.” He said nothing else for a long time, and you watched the smile on his face as it was replaced with a frown. You hated being responsible for putting that expression there, especially when he was so excited about going home.

“I don’t want you to feel responsible for me once we get there. You don’t need to pull yourself away from your family to make me feel comfortable. I’ll just …” You looked away and out over the water, forcing a smile. “I just need a place to sleep and to know where to go for meals, and -”

“Stop.” He reached for you again, whispering your name. “I know what getting back to Sunspear means. I’ve been looking forward to it since the day I pulled myself out of the sea and back onto this ship. But me being back home doesn’t mean that every word that has come out of my mouth to you was worthless.” 

“I never said -”

“No, you didn’t. But for some reason you seem to believe that once I step foot back into Sunspear, you’ll be forgotten or that I won’t want to spend time with you.” He leaned in, locking eyes with you. “That could not be further from the truth.”

You wanted to believe him. You wanted to believe that the honesty in his eyes - and the seriousness of his tone would matter when you reached Dorne. You wanted to believe that even after Oberyn got his hands back on Ellaria, there’d still be enough of a place for you in his life for what he was promising to become reality. But I can’t count on that. 

“Oberyn, I’m just trying to be realistic. You’re a Prince. You have a woman that is your wife in, as you put it, all the ways that matter. You’re going to have things to do and people to see and stories to tell. You’ll have responsibilities to the throne, even if you’re not in line to inherit. You say that you want me to fall in love with Dorne, but what happens then? I stay and rely on your kindness for the rest of my life just because I find Sunspear or the Water Gardens agreeable?” 

“Tell me what it is that you’re not saying.” He stood abruptly, and for the first time since you’d met him, you saw anger in his eyes that was directed at you. “I want the truth.” He didn’t reach for you. Instead, he let his arms hang loosely by his sides, his fingers curled in toward his palms. 

“My fate in Oldtown with Perle would be to become his wife and bear his children and sit silently and take whatever abuse he deemed appropriate as my husband. I wouldn’t be happy, but I’d know that my parents and their business were alright.” You wet your lips, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “In Dorne? What is my future there? No matter how much I enjoy a place, I still need to make a living if I won’t be married off to someone that is expected to support me. And I’m afraid, Oberyn, that my staying would make it seem like I was taking advantage of your offer or trying to force something impossible. I don’t know that I could accept that.” 

That wasn’t even everything that you weren’t saying - and he knew it. “There is more.” He crossed his arms, waiting. You didn’t want to admit the depth of your worries, because it wasn’t fair to him. “I’ll stand here all night if I need to.” I know you will. 

You weren’t getting out of it, and after a few more moments of thought, you nodded, covering your face and taking a breath to steady yourself. The sooner I say it, the sooner he can set expectations. “I have become attached to you in the time since we’ve met, and I’m not sure how I’ll react when there’s more space and more people between us, Oberyn.”  Ellaria. I’m not sure how I’m going to react to seeing you with the woman you love, even though I knew it was coming. “And going to Dorne may not prove to be as perfect a solution as I hope it will be.”

“What changed?” His tone softened slightly and his posture loosened, Oberyn shifting his feet. “You were excited to go to Dorne and to see it, and now … you’re anticipating the worst before you even get there.”

“I didn’t know you were a Prince. I thought … we’d get to Sunspear and even if you were wealthy or had a large home, we’d still… cross paths occasionally after things settled. I am excited to see Dorne. I’m looking forward to it, but I also dread it because who you are? It changes everything. What you’re going back to? You’re not just returning home to a woman you love. You’re returning to Ellaria Sand, I don’t belong anywhere near -”

“You do if I say you do.” He held out his hands and you took them, letting him help you to your feet. “And I say you do. You will not be a prisoner in Dorne. You will not be expected to marry or have children or serve any man. For as long as you wish to stay, you are a guest of the Martells - my guest. And between you and me?” He leaned closer, the warmth back in his eyes. “I would be happy to have you stay for good.” 

“What do you gain from it?” You pulled free, turning away from him and shaking your head as you stepped toward the railing. “I still don’t remember everything about myself or my past. I can’t offer you coin or an army or -”

“Stop.” He reached out, gripping your upper arm. “I don’t care about any of those things.” He tightened his hold, and even though it wasn’t painful, it was still more tightly than he’d ever held you before. “Turn around and look at me.” 

You did, and were ashamed to realize that there were tears in your eyes. “Oberyn -” His fingers loosened, though he didn’t pull his hand back. 

“You are not the only one who has become attached.” He tilted his head, narrowing his eyes as it moved back and forth. “The thought of you going anywhere that is not Dorne saddens me. The thought of you returning to your home and letting your parents choose your future or going to Oldtown and letting Perle do what he pleases sickens me.” He lifted his other hand and cupped your cheek with it. “You deserve better. You deserve to have what you want and who you want. I can give you that. Dorne can offer that.” Can you? 

“But why? Why would you do that for me with everything else you’ll return home to? We only met each other weeks ago. I -”

“Because I want to.” He swallowed hard and took a deep breath, closing his eyes. “Because you gave me a chance, even when you didn’t trust me or know who I was.” He opened his eyes and there was sadness in them. “My whole life has been one opportunity after another because of my lineage. I’ve made the most of it, and like to think that I’ve proven that I am more than the Martell name, but …” He looked down and then raised his head, meeting your eyes. “It was new to meet someone new without any of those expectations hanging over my head.”

You hadn’t thought of it that way, but it made total sense. It doesn’t change anything though. “Everyone will just think that I’m one of your -”

“Fuck what they think.” He stepped closer, the sadness in his eyes gone. “It only matters what we think and what we know. ” 

“It’s going to take some getting used to.” He nodded, and you could feel your heart racing. “But will you promise me something?”

“Of course.” He wet his lips. “Anything.” 

You didn’t doubt that he meant it, but you were unprepared for the surety in his voice and the steely look of determination he gave you. It threw you for a few seconds but when you recovered, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath, holding it before you let it out slowly. 

“No matter what happens, please don’t lie to me. I know there will be things you can’t tell me about your family’s dealings and that’s to be expected with your position, but I can handle truths. They might hurt, but I need them.” He looked confused. “For example, if Ellaria is unhappy I’m in Dorne, I need to know. I don’t want to cause tension between you, so -”

“If she’s unhappy you’re in Dorne, she will tell you.” He smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “And you’re so concerned with her being displeased that you’re coming home with me, why? We have done nothing wrong.” 

“I forget just how different things are between you two sometimes.” You looked out and over the water, needing a few moments to think. “When it comes to sharing each other, anyway.” It was the truth, and even though he’d told you over and over that what was happening between you wouldn’t be a problem after going home, it was difficult for you to believe it. Even after finding out who he is. 

“I would be a fool to believe that Ellaria hasn’t found someone … or many someones to keep her busy in the time that I’ve been gone.” He shrugged, stepping next to you and turning his body so that he was facing the water. “I certainly kept myself occupied. I will not hold that against her in the same way she won’t question my behavior when it comes to you.” 

It confirmed what you’d thought about him even before learning who he really was - and the truth to the reputation of Oberyn Martell. But. “Bringing someone home is different, Oberyn. And even though we haven’t… even though it’s just been…” You struggled with your words and he saved you, turning his head and murmuring your name. 

“You want the truth from me?” You nodded. “It would be easier to explain things if we already had slept together. But I am not welcoming you to Dorne only to warm my bed, and that is different.” That set off a new flood of panic within you, and you were angry that you hadn’t thought of it at first. Of course us being together just for sex would complicate everything less. That’s what they do.

“We still have tonight.” You rushed the words out, heartbeat racing as you gripped the railing. “We can change that. We can -”

“No.” He settled his hand over yours and squeezed. “The time for that has passed.” You wondered if he meant on the ship or in totality, but couldn’t force yourself to ask. Instead, you opted for humor. 

“Oberyn Martell, turning down a lover? Are you sure it’s really you?” That made him laugh, which eased your panic slightly - but then it went elsewhere and reared back up. “If you’re not bringing me back as that, what will we tell people about who I am and why I’m with you?” 

“That depends on you.” He straightened up and then leaned against the wood, recrossing his arms. “You may want to think that over and decide what you want the story to be after you meet my family. But all we have to say is the truth: I found you in a raft, floating in the water, and I couldn’t just leave you there to die.” It was good advice, but it still didn’t answer exactly who you were or where you’d been going. You still had the token you could use if you chose to disappear, so even if you told the whole truth, you weren’t trapped. “Are you hungry? It’s getting late, and they’re making a feast to use as much of the remaining food as possible.” 

“I am.” You closed your eyes, thanking him for the distraction. “Are you?”

“Very.” He stepped away from the railing and motioned for you to take his hand. “Will you have dinner with me?” 

“Of course, Your Grace.” He rolled his eyes but linked his fingers with yours and pulled you closer, his other hand finding its way to your waist. “Oberyn, what -” 

“Ellaria is going to like you,” he whispered the words, angling his head so that he could speak them directly into your ear. “Because it seems as though you share her enthusiasm for teasing me.” That made you laugh, but it turned into a sharp inhale when he pressed his lips to your temple before pulling back, his smirk full of mischief. “I will have my hands very full between the two of you.” 

You hoped he was right. 

You hoped that when you met Ellaria Sand, you’d get along with her. You desperately hoped that she understood that even before you’d known who he was, you’d cared for Oberyn. And that he cares about me. “We’ll see. Maybe it’s going to be us that have their hands full.” Swallowing back a lump in your throat, you squeezed his hand before he could respond. “Food, Oberyn. I want to hear all about your weapons training.” 

— 

You ate with a large group of the crew and halfway through, Obara and Nymeria breezed in, both of them giddy. 

They sat with you and spent the better part of the evening telling you stories about Oberyn and their upbringing in Dorne. It was clear that despite the way things had begun for them, they’d adapted to the life he’d offered and flourished under his care - and with his love. He’d never send them away only for his own benefit.

Everyone was excited; the room was buzzing with conversation, and even though you were focused on what Oberyn and his daughters were saying, you couldn’t help listening to the others, too. They’re all so happy to be going home.

“Are we boring you?” He was leaning back in his chair, a goblet of wine dangling from between two fingers. “You seem distracted.” Oberyn went quiet, arching a brow and staring you down. It was a look that you hadn’t yet seen from him, and you could feel the heat in it, his eyes bright. 

“Of course not.” You picked up a small handful of berries and ate one of them, gesturing with your hand. “This is the most excited I’ve ever heard or seen the crew, and I’m just … it’s hard not to pay attention to them, too.” 

“They deserve long rests.” He finished the wine and set the cup down, his eyes moving away from you and over the other people in the room. “And they will get them. We all will.” He stood suddenly, clearing his throat. What is he doing? “Everyone.” He held up a hand and the room went silent almost immediately. “I want to thank you.” 

You turned in your chair to stare up at him, watching as his posture changed - shoulders back, head held high. He looked around the room, nodding, and you watched the set of his jaw change too, his lower lip jutting out slightly as his lips turned downward in thought. 

“I have kept you away from your homes and your families and your lives for far too long. I am sorry it took many months. I never intended -” He sighed. “If I didn’t want to be away this long, I can’t imagine any of you would, either.” 

There was murmur of agreement, but no one actually spoke up. It didn’t surprise you. Even though they were likely closer with him than was typical with a member of the Martell family and sailors, it was clear that he’d shifted from pretending to be Daavos to once again being Oberyn in the hours since the Dornish port had become the next destination. And they respect him. They respect his position. They don’t fear him like so many others would fear the ones they serve. 

“You have my gratitude. It has been an honor to spend so many months in such close quarters with people like yourselves who are so loyal to my -”

“For Dorne!” One of the men stood, lifting one hand to his chest and then bowing his head. And  then another man stood, adopting the same position. 

“For the Martells!” Slowly, the others joined them, rising to their feet and making their own declarations - a combination of  the two phrases you’d heard already, accompanied with a few indecipherable ones, too. Even Obara and Nymeria stood, turning their attention toward their father. He reached out and put an arm around both of them, and you could feel the pride he had in them - and what they’d accomplished.

You rose, too, curling your fingers inward before you pressed your fist to your chest. He held power over the crew - and so did his daughters, despite their origins. It impressed you. You were certain that you’d seen the arrivals of nobility in Braavos, and even though you couldn’t remember your entire life, you knew that if you’d seen anything similar, it would have stuck with you. They love him. They love him in a way that the Lannisters could never begin to imagine anyone loving them. 

His daughters were watching the room, their smiles broad. But Oberyn was eyeing you, waiting. And instead of using something that the others had said, you took a deep breath, straightened your shoulders and met Oberyn’s eyes. “Fuck Cersei Lannister.” 

That made him laugh, his head tipping back to expose his throat as his eyes closed. 

It was short lived, though, because Oberyn returned his attention to the crowd and held up his hand again, waiting until the noise had died down slightly. “What are our words?” 

“Unbowed!” The voices were a chorus, with no hesitation. “Unbent!” Oberyn and his daughters joined in, their smiles never faltering. “Unbroken!” It repeated, over and over, the volume growing as people began to bang on the tables and clap their hands together. You didn’t join in - you weren’t Dornish, and it didn’t feel right, but that didn’t seem to matter. 

Oberyn pressed kisses to the tops of his daughters heads before releasing them and beginning to move into the crowd. He circled the room slowly, thanking people one by one. When he made it back to where you stood, he stepped behind you, the heat from his body apparent even through your clothes as you both faced the entirety of the room. 

It was an intimate position, and though everyone’s eyes were on you, you felt no judgment from them at their Prince’s display of affection. Instead, you felt peace - leaning back into Oberyn and allowing yourself a small smile. I can’t get used to this, but there’s no harm in this one moment. He cleared his throat, inching closer.  

“Tomorrow we will be home. Tomorrow we will feel the Dornish sun and smell the Dornish air and gorge on Dornish food and wine. Tonight?” You felt his hand on your hip, his chest pressed against your back as he inhaled deeply. “All I ask is that you make sure we get there safely.” 

Everyone laughed, some shouting out their promises to him. Moments later, the attention fell away from where you stood as people returned to their food and drink. But Oberyn didn’t step away. Instead he urged you to turn around, his hand remaining in place. 

“That was an impressive show, Oberyn.” He winked at you, his lips twisting upward into a smile.

“That was nothing.” He sighed. “Let me walk you back to your room.” Gesturing to your side, he frowned. “It must be painful.” You hadn’t noticed it throughout his speech, but your side did ache. “Obara. Nym. I’ll see you in the morning?” 

Both of them nodded, Obara’s smirk directed at both you and her father, but then they turned away and toward a table where a group of sailors were laughing heartily. “Thank you. But you don’t have to. I can get there on my own.” 

“I insist.” He led you from the room and down the hall, footsteps quiet on the sleek flooring. Both of you stopped to use the commode and washroom, and then resumed your path to his quarters. “I meant what I said in there. All of them - the crew and my men - will get the rest they deserve once we’re home. They have lives and families to get back to, and I’ve stolen enough of their time.”

“They all want to be here, Oberyn. They love you.” You were getting close to the doorway, and your steps slowed, trying to drag out the time until you said goodbye. “They’re all loyal. I’m sure they’ll be happy to be back on land for longer than a few days at a time, but …” You turned to face him. “I very much doubt that any of them hold it against you that they’ve been away for as long as they have.” 

“You may be right.” He took a deep breath, looking over your shoulder at the door to his quarters. “If I was out of line in front of them with you, I apologize. I should not have … put my hands on you, at least without knowing if it would make you uncomfortable.” 

“It didn’t.” Closing your eyes, you lowered your head. “I liked it. I know that’s not how it’s going to be in Dorne, but it was nice to feel so wanted.” He stepped closer, keeping his eyes on you. 

“You really think I won’t want you in -” He was interrupted by the ship’s movement on the waves, and much like the first night you’d been in the same position, you lost your balance. You took two steps forward, both hands shooting out to steady yourself. 

He caught you, keeping you upright, but that night, he didn’t hesitate to hold you close. He said your name quietly, one hand on your elbow and the other pressed to your back. You had every reason to push him away - the fact that he was a prince, the fact that he was going home to Ellaria Sand, the fact that he’d already told you that there was no chance for sex on the ship and letting yourself get even closer was a dangerous game - but instead of that you curled your fingers in his shirt and sighed. 

“I’m not going to stop you from kissing me like I did the first night, Oberyn.” 

His eyes flashed but he didn’t keep you waiting. His hand slid up to the back of your head and angled it so that when he leaned in to press his lips to yours, the connection was perfect. The kiss didn’t linger, though, and it was Oberyn that backed away first, clearing his throat. “Goodnight. We should arrive in Dorne before midday tomorrow, so -”

“I thought you said you wanted to stay.” It was a risk, but if you were going to believe what Oberyn said to you, you needed to begin with accepting the things that he’d said before you knew who he was. Because he said nothing was changing. He said he still wants me. “Just this morning, you said you wanted to spend the night. Has that changed?” 

Questioning Oberyn - even in private - wasn’t something that you’d ever expected yourself to do, but in the darkness of the hallway, you did it anyway. All he can say is no. “Even though I lied to you for weeks?” You nodded, heart pounding as you tried to keep your breathing steady. “Even though you believe that after tomorrow, nothing will be the same between us?” 

“Especially because I know that once we’re back in Dorne, it may be some time until I see you after sundown, Oberyn.” It stung, but it was the truth. “Between Ellaria and your duties and all of the Dornish pleasure houses that have certainly missed your patronage for the last two years, I’ll have to wait my turn.” 

He blinked a few times before taking a deep breath, and then Oberyn reached around you and pushed the door open, nodding. Reluctantly, you turned away and walked in, the realization that it was the last time you’d enter for the purpose of sleeping hitting you all at once and stopping you in your tracks. 

“What’s wrong?” The sound of the door closing behind him was soft, and then his arms were around you, Oberyn’s mouth next to your ear. “Is everything alright?” 

“This is the last night I’ll… we’ll spend in this room.” You looked around, eyeing your surroundings. “I remember much of my home, but this room… this ship, and you, Oberyn…” You turned to face him again, your lower lip trembling. “I feel safe here, with you. And I know that Dorne is safe, too, and that people will help to reassure me of that.” But it scares me. “It’s not just about us being different once we’re on land, it’s everything.” 

He was frowning, his eyes searching your face, but Oberyn didn’t answer you. You wondered if you’d said the wrong thing, wondered if you’d voiced the thing that would make him regret inviting you to his home. But when his expression softened and Oberyn closed his eyes, sighing, instead of pushing you away he pulled you closer, urging you toward him. 

“I did not consider that, and I should have.” He spoke against your hair, his chest rising and falling steadily. “It will be different. It will be new. But you will not be truly alone. Even if I am not with you, or one of my daughters aren’t beside you, you’ll have everything you need. Anything you might want. I hope … I hope that one day, you will feel as at home in Dorne as I do.”

It was an offhand comment, but you understood the significance of it. You feeling that comfortable in Dorne would only happen if you were there long term, and that was only possible if you chose to stay for good. You closed your eyes and hugged him tightly, hissing out in pain as the wound on your side rubbed against your clothing. 

Oberyn immediately let you go, holding you at arm’s length and letting his eyes drop. “I need to see that.” You lifted the material without thought and Oberyn dropped to his knees, the tips of his fingers gently skating over your skin and then removing the bandage. Staring down at the crown of his head, you tried to stay still as he examined you, though it was difficult because of the pain - and because of the way your stomach bottomed out at the way he touched you. 

“Despite my best efforts, this may require an actual healer.” He glanced up, and you saw the worry in his eyes. “It is deep, and if the blade was filthy, it will need to be thoroughly cleaned.” 

“You cleaned it.” Wincing as he touched the skin just below the injury, you let out a shaky breath. “You studied poisons, and -”

“I do not think he poisoned you.” Oberyn reached for more bandages and re-covered the area, securing it with a small knot. “But I do think the blade was dirty. And while supplies on this ship are limited, they’re plentiful on land.” He leaned in and pressed his lips to the dressing, his hands on your hips. 

It was a position that you’d never have even dreamed to find yourself in - the Red Viper of Dorne on his knees in front of you - and so when he pulled away enough to look up and meet your eyes, you savored the sight of him. 

There was need in his gaze, and you didn’t try to stop yourself from lifting your hand to drag your fingers through his hair. “You should get up, Oberyn. A Prince on his knees for a commoner?” 

He stayed in place, lips splitting apart in a toothy grin. “There is nothing common about you.” That made you laugh, and a few seconds later he did stand, his hands sliding up your body so that both of them could cradle your jaw, tilting your head back. “And you will find that I enjoy being on my knees far more than the average man. Give it time.” 

You gasped, but it was a quick sound, Oberyn’s lips meeting yours again - and that kiss wasn’t slow or gentle. Despite the pain in your side, you melted into him, hands grasping at his shirt as he repositioned both of his to hold you even closer. 

With his hands on your body and mouth on yours, it was easy to forget what was coming and what would change once you arrived in Dorne. And though you knew it would only make things harder for you, you let yourself forget - let yourself kiss him back, one hand slipping under the deep neckline of his shirt, nails scraping against his chest. 

Oberyn only broke the kiss long enough to breathe and then he resumed it, urging you to draw his full lower lip between yours as he turned both of you toward the bed, the groan he let out when your lips turned into teeth dragging over that same lip long and low. 

You wondered what other sounds he made, and what sounds he’d be able to pull from you, but before you could get lost in those thoughts, he let you go, whispering your name. “Someone is feeling adventurous tonight.” You inhaled deeply, lips parted as you looked at him. I got carried away. “I wish I could let you continue.” 

“I understand.” You let out your breath, closing your eyes. “Oberyn, I’m -”

“Don’t you dare apologize.” He laughed, the hand on your hip tightening. “We should get some rest, though.Tomorrow will be a long day.” He was right, and when you moved away from him to sit on the edge of the bed to remove your boots, he began to undress, too. 

You watched him - eyed his movements in the low light, the candles casting a warm glow across his skin once he removed his shirt. His pants hung low on his hips, and when he loosened them, they dropped even lower, exposing more of his lower back. He was teasing you - tempting you, and though in the coming days, you figured the memory of his bare body would make waiting harder, you were thankful. 

You climbed into the bed first, rolling onto your uninjured side and waiting until Oberyn had joined you to speak. “Will I be watched while you’re doing whatever it is that you need to do, Oberyn?” He smiled, inching closer and carefully draping an arm over your side. “I’ve never been in a castle before, and I don’t know what to expect.” 

“My words will never do it justice,” he started, moving his hand up your arm slowly. “I can tell you that it is beautiful. I can tell you what I love about it and why, but until you see it? Until you’re there? You will never understand.” His fingers danced over your skin, the tips of them dragging along the curve of your neck before he flipped his hand over and trailed his knuckles over your jaw and then up and over your cheek. “You will only be watched if you wish to be.” 

“What does that mean?” You yawned, turning your face toward the pillow and closing your eyes. “If I wish to be?” 

“There are many people employed by House Martell in Sunspear.They attend to our needs - whatever they might be. And as my guest, someone will attend to you, too.” What? “I have a confession to make.” That got your attention, but it took a few seconds for Oberyn to continue. “I have been away from home for so long that I am … worried about what will happen when I’m back in Sunspear.” 

That admission - moreso than anything else he’d said or promised - convinced you that Oberyn truly trusted you and cared for you. You had a feeling that there were very few people who ever saw the vulnerable side of the Red Viper, and even though it would have been a great tactic to use to win you over, you were certain that he wasn’t trying to do that. He’s admitting something to me that he won’t tell anyone else. 

“What are you worried about?” He wet his lips and then squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m sure they won’t expect you to -” 

“As Daavos I was free to live my life however I wanted to.” He sighed. “And in Dorne, it is much the same, but with Doran’s health, I … I’m worried that I’ll be asked to immediately return to politics and be much more involved than before. I have so much to catch up on, and I don’t want to fail after I’ve already asked so much of them.” 

“Oberyn, they’re going to give you time to adjust to being home.” You stroked his beard, shaking your head. “They have to. All of the news you’ve gotten has been secondhand or delayed. I don’t know your family, but I don’t think you have anything to worry about.” Leaning closer, you rested your forehead against his. “They’ll give you time. They need you. And they need you at your best.” 

His uncertainty should have shattered your image of him. Coming from anyone else, it would have diminished his reputation - put doubt into your mind about just how intimidating he was, or what he was capable of. But it doesn’t. It makes me … respect him more. 

“You barely know me and you have so much faith in me. Why?” 

“Because you’re the Red Viper of Dorne.” Backing away to meet his eyes, you said his name. “Because you fought a mountain of a man to avenge your family and walked away from a fight that no one thought you’d survive…and you did it twice.” His eyes flashed and you continued. “Because you pulled me from the Narrow Sea and helped me when you had no real reason to.”  And you’re still helping me. “You haven’t given me a reason to doubt you.”

“I lied to you. I let you think I -”

“Your name and status were a lie, but everything else was the truth.” Smiling, you shrugged. “I hope, anyway.” 

“It was. It is.” He shifted closer, one of his legs rising from the bed and bending at the knee before it settled over yours. “I told you everything about myself without revealing who I was, and all of that was true.” 

“Then let yourself enjoy going home. Your family has been waiting for two years. Ellaria has been waiting for you for two years. And I’m sure she’s going to tell you the same thing I am right now.” 

“She will.” He smiled, eyes drifting closed. “The two of you together …. I’m in trouble.” 

You wondered what he meant by that. Was it possible that he thought that you and Ellaria would become friends? Did he want that to happen? And if he does, why? You’d known that Wyllam had been with other women before you. You’d understood that some of them were from Braavos, but you’d never entertained the thought of friendship with them. Even if I knew who they were, I don’t think … 

But Oberyn and Ellaria were a different story - and their relationship was also different. You weren’t naive enough to believe that spending time with Oberyn in Dorne would be time spent between just the two of you, but you’d never actually considered that he’d want you to get to know Ellaria, too. Or if she’ll want to get to know me. 

“Oberyn?” He opened his eyes, waiting to see what you’d say. “I’m … sorry that I’ve been the way I am about… where I fit in with you and in Dorne. All of this is a surprise to me, and finding out that you’re who you are only complicates it more.” 

“It is a lot to take in.” His hand moved back down your body and came to rest just below where you were injured. “I just ask you to give it a chance before you decide that you can or cannot be a part of it.” 

It was a reasonable request. And despite the way you felt about him, and the fact that you’d never dreamed of possibly sharing a man’s attention long term with others before, the truth was that you didn’t know what would be more difficult for you: only having Oberyn in your life in a small way, or not having him there at all. 

“Sleep now. You’ve had a busy day.” He leaned in, taking a short breath before brushing his lips against yours. “And tomorrow will be even busier.” 

He was right. Even though you knew your day would be less demanding than his, it was still going to be a change from the life on the ship that you’d gotten used to over the previous weeks. “Goodnight, Oberyn.” You whispered the words, inching even closer to him so that you could tuck yourself against his chest, forehead resting against the top of his shoulder. 

You didn’t know what was going to happen once you got to Dorne. There was no way to predict what you’d feel - or what Oberyn or Ellaria would feel - once you were on land and everyone had settled in. 

But you did know that if it was the last night you’d get to fall asleep next to Oberyn, you were certainly going to make the most of it. 

— 

When you woke up the following morning, he was still in bed - but his eyes were open, and he was staring at you. He looks tired. He shouldn’t, because - “Oberyn, did you sleep?”

“No.” He blinked, chuckling. “I couldn’t.” 

“Too excited?” His laugh got louder, Oberyn’s eyes closing to show off the crow’s feet at the corners. “I didn’t think it was funny, Prince Oberyn, so -”

“I am excited. But like I said, this ship? It has been home for a long while, and I will miss it.” He let out a breath and then said your name. “And I will miss these last weeks with you, too.” His words hit you hard, but you were quick to speak, rushing your own reply out before you could give yourself too long to think about what they meant. 

“As soon as you set foot on Dornish soil, none of this will matter.” Backing away, you took a deep breath. “All you’ll feel is excitement to be back home and with the people you love.” It was easier that way - to set expectations for him, but also for yourself. “You won’t have time to miss this.” You gestured to the room with one hand, smiling at him. “And speaking of that, I wonder how close we are. I should get up and get dressed, and -”

“We have time.” Oberyn leaned in, kissing your forehead. “Plenty of it.” 

“I think that’s the first actual lie you’ve told me.” Both of you laughed, and you let yourself enjoy the closeness with him for a few moments longer before sitting up, careful of your bandaged side. “I need to get into the dress Nymeria and I chose, and it might take me a while. It’s not as straightforward as Braavosi attire.” 

“I can stay and help.” He propped himself up on one elbow, arching a brow. “I am very skilled with -”

“I need to put it on, Oberyn, not take it off.” That made him laugh again, but instead of arguing with you, he sat upright and then stood, stretching before he began the process of tightening his pants and putting his boots back on. “Should … I come to the top deck once I’m dressed? Should I bring my things? I -”

“You can leave everything.” He turned to look at you over his shoulder, nodding. “Pack it together, and someone will bring it to your room later. It will be safe here, you have my word.” Thanking him, you looked up at where he stood, watching as Oberyn turned to face you again. “But yes. Get dressed. Find something to eat. I’ll be topside. My daughters will, too.” 

He didn’t say anything else before he left the room, your eyes following him until the door shut and obscured him from view. It was a strange goodbye, and unlike any of the others he’d given you, but you figured he was just distracted by the fact that he was so close to home after so long. 

As you got out of bed and carefully packed all of your things into a small satchel, you wondered if he was beginning the process of distancing himself from you in preparation for reuniting with his family. You hoped he wasn’t. You hoped that he wouldn’t. It is a possibility, though, even if it’s temporary. 

It didn’t take as long as you expected to redress yourself in what you’d chosen. Once you got the straps and ties situated properly, you let out a slow breath. More of you was exposed than you were used to, but you still felt good in it, the soft material flowing over your skin in a way that your other attire hadn’t. You wondered if you’d have the opportunity to choose more clothing in Dorne, or if the outfit was a one time thing, meant only to impress Prince Doran and the royal council upon your first meeting. I have coin. I could probably buy … Looking down, you smoothed your hands over the fabric, smiling at the way it felt against your palms. Hmm. 

You hadn’t chosen a pair of shoes to go with it, though. So before you headed to the galley to find something to eat, you went back to the room that you and Nymeria had visited and opened a trunk, digging through it. You ended up with a comfortable pair of slippers in gold, sliding your feet into them and wiggling your toes at the freedom they afforded you. I could get used to this. 

With one last look at your boots, you bit your lip and turned away from them, heading for the door.

You were hungry but too anxious to eat anything substantial, and after grabbing a stonefruit, you headed up to the main deck, stepping out and into the sunshine. Tilting your face upward, you inhaled deeply, eyes closed. 

He’d told you that you’d still be able to hear the sea from your room in the castle, but you wondered if you’d be able to smell it, too. I’ll ask him. I - Your mind went blank as you opened your eyes and saw that the largest sail had been replaced with a new one, the Martell sigil in the center of it and unmistakably visible. 

Your heart raced at the sight, and you moved one hand to cover it, pressing your palm against your chest as you stared upward. It’s really happening. He’s going home, and he’s making an entrance. Blinking twice, you lowered your eyes and scanned the deck, looking for more changes. 

Some of the crew were wearing armor, their chests and shoulders covered in what looked like reinforced leather pieces. Others had changed from the attire you’d grown accustomed to into more flowing garments, though there were a few that had kept the casual dress that you and Oberyn had also adopted. 

You saw Obara and Nymeria first, both of them leaning against the railing on the deck up and near the wheel, their backs toward you. He can’t be far. There was a flash of yellow to your right, and when you turned to look and see what it was, you gasped, mouth hanging open. Oberyn. 

He’d changed clothes, too, and you recognized the new ones immediately. The yellow coat from the wardrobe. He strode toward you, arms swinging by his sides, and all you could do was stare. The coat reached mid-calf, and was held closed by a belt that sat low on his waist. His chest was still bared, the tanned skin visible between the panels of golden material and the slightly darker underlayer. 

But what was completely new was the thick golden chain and large pendant he wore around his neck, the metal glinting in the sunlight. You realized that the formal dress was for show, and while you understood why he’d opted to wear it as you sailed back into Dorne, you wondered what Oberyn preferred. He looks comfortable. He looks… like a prince. 

He’d wet his hair down, too, combing through the tousled curls and then pushing them away from his face, but one of them wasn’t behaving like the others. Instead, it had caught the wind and was hanging over his forehead, reminding you that even though he was dressed differently, he was still the Oberyn you’d met weeks earlier. I wonder if he’ll keep it long once we dock. I wonder if he’ll shave his face, or - 

“Dornish clothing suits you.” He stopped just in front of you, eyes moving up and down the entire length of your body. “You chose well.” 

“Nymeria helped.” You used one hand to adjust your skirt. “I think she pulled this one out because it …” You eyed his robe from up close, breath catching in your throat. Oh, Nymeria. What were you thinking? The stitching on your dress matched what was on his robe - the golden threads woven into sun shapes that were broken up by tiny spears. “It matches. Oberyn, I didn’t mean to -”

“Do not apologize.” He reached for your hand, fingers curling around yours when you took it. “I would have chosen the same one for you.” His smile widened. “Come. There is something I want to show you.” 

You let him lead you up to where Nymeria and Obara stood, both of them giving you quick glances before they turned their attention back toward the horizon. Oberyn stepped behind you as you gripped the railing with both hands, his chest flush with your back. He lifted one arm and used his finger to point ahead of you. 

It took you a few seconds to see what he was focused on, and when you did, you felt your heart skip and tears well up in your eyes, even as he used his free hand to pull you backwards and toward him, his fingers splayed over your stomach.  

“There.” He rasped the word into your ear, his voice thick. “That is Dorne. We’re almost home.” 

—  

[hanako-kozume]

Ah, who doesn't love a good old Fake-dating and there was only one bed trope? The fanfic classics and I can imagine no better for this than our beloved SakuAtsu ship.

Chaos is truly an underappreciated piece of art.

"What do you want Motoya? I'm at practice," Sakusa grumbled while pressing the door to the locker room open with his shoulder since his hands were occupied with his bag and phone, as well as a water bottle he intended to drink from when his cousin called. Apparently early in the morning when both of them had their respective occupations was the best time for a little chat.

"No, you're on your way to practice. Subtle but important difference." Komori corrected.

"Not really, I'm already here and late. Miya won't let me live this down the whole day."

A small chuckle echoed from the other end of the line. "I know but you still gotta change so just put me on speaker. I have to talk to you."

Sakusa rolled his eyes but obliged. His cousin for sure could be annoying but if he said there was something to talk about he trusted him that it wouldn't be something trivial. "You're lucky that you caught me the one day I'm late. If the others were here I wouldn't—"

"If by day you mean week then sure. You're not as unpredictable as you think, Kiyo. Whenever you're stressed you over-organize stuff until you're so far in the future that you forget the present. Happens every year when family events roll around."

Sakusa scowled at his phone as he pulled his shirt over his head.

"Which by the way is exactly what I wanted to talk about." Komori continued.

"There is nothing to talk about. I'm not going." Sakusa insisted.

"You will."

"Why? So that my parents can pretend they have forgotten my coming out yet again and play matchmaker, setting me up with one of the daughters from Mom's friends. Again."

"I'm not saying you're not justified in not going, I'm just saying that you won't. Despite everything I ever tell you, you can't seem to cut ties with them." The libero let out a sigh.

"If you haven't noticed they hold my inheritance and any financial support over my head like a guillotine, ready to be cut off any time. If volleyball doesn't—"

"But it will. Honestly Kiyo, you're doing so well for yourself."

Silence followed his statement as Sakusa wasn't sure what to say to that. He went to the sink to refill his water bottle just to have an excuse to finish the conversation before attending the very job he was putting in jeopardy over this.

"Doesn't matter." Komori continued. "We won't get anywhere like this. I just wanted to say that maybe I have a solution for the matchmaking. I know you hate it."

He did. He really did but any attempt to stop it was a fight against the tide. The flood would come regardless.

He lied about having a boyfriend, it continued. He lied about having a girlfriend, they wanted proof. He had an actual boyfriend, who broke up with him because he couldn't endure his parent's antics anymore. They tried setting him up on dates in front of him.

To say he was tempted by Motoya's suggestion was an understatement.

"I'll take your silence for curiosity. So why don't you get yourself a date?" he suggested.

And here he had gotten his hopes up. "You know how that went the last time."

The pain was far from fresh anymore but he was still upset. It wasn't like he had been the love of his life but he was nice and certainly didn't deserve to be treated like garbage and worst of all Sakusa already had a really hard time finding someone he considered genuinely romantically attractive from which point on most were scared off by his odd nature and germophobia and now the rest was chased away by his family... great, he thought sarcastically.

"No, that's not what I meant. Nothing serious just a fling or it could even be fake. Get someone who can put up with these idiots and warn them." Komori elaborated. "If you want your peace of mind ask a woman, if you want to piss off your parents find a good partner in crime. Personally, that's my favourite option."

"You're clearly overestimating my social skills. How many friends do you think I have who I could ask something like that?"

"Okay, so the fling isn't an option?"

"I won't toy with anyone's emotions like that."

"It's not 'toying with someone's emotions' if the intentions are clear from the get-go and both agree." his cousin protested.

Sakusa knew that. After all, he had several flings throughout his high school years, and shortly after, some just to spite his parents. It was a lame excuse and childish because quite frankly after a few rebounds — just casual stuff nothing serious — following his previous relationship his parents had ruined, he felt no desire to get involved with anyone for a while.

Not really to his surprise, casual sex wasn't really for him and he indulged in it less and less over the years. It helped that he got more independent and mentally stable as soon as he was away from home.

"As to who, what about 'Miya'?" Sakusa almost choked on air. "If he manages to tick you off so efficiently, your parents should be a piece of cake." He could practically hear the grin in Komori's voice.

"We are not friends." he close to growled, trying to convey the disdain toward Motoya's idea.

The liberi pretend not to hear it. "I'll admit the amount of sexual tension between the two of you is a bit uncommon for platonic relationships but I won't judge and hey, I think you're on a pretty good way," he said encouragingly.

Sakusa's jaw clenched and he felt the distinct desire to reach through the phone and throw something at his cousin. "I have to go to practice now."

"Think about it! You could—" He hung up. The ace placed his phone in his bag, took his water bottle, and quickly hurried out to the others, bowing to his coach in apology as he passed him before joining the others.

Meian acknowledged his lateness with a slight bit of earning protest from Atsumu that he would always get scolded when he was too late, which admittedly didn't happen as often as Sakusa expected — he truly seemed to love his job — bit still on average no one could compare to Sakusa in being on time.

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

To make up for being late Sakusa ran a couple of extra laps around the gym after training, unprompted but earning a nod of approval from coach Forster. As such he was last when entering the locker rooms again, catching a few snippets of a very interesting conversation.

"I'm telling you, Bo, there is something between Omi-san and Tsumu. I'd bet on it." Hinata whispered, which meant the whole team could hear.

"No way, Tsum-Tsum for sure would have told us if that was the case!" Bokuto added. He was certainly the only one who was even worse than Hinata at controlling the volume of his voice.

"Don't you see how they look at each other sometimes?!" the smaller insisted.

At each other? He didn't think he glanced at the blonde any longer than necessary on and off the court.

"I'm kinda with Bokuto in this one," Thomas chimed in. "Atsumu is such a show-off. He wouldn't have shut up about it if—"

"If what?" The person in question joined the conversation. "You know it's not nice to talk about propel behind their back." Apparently, he had just left the showers while the others were already changing into normal clothes again.

"Is there something between you and our favourite germaphobe?" Inunaki asked him directly.

"Who? Omi? Nah, but I'm sure he likes me." he said in his typical confident tone and Sakusa rolled his eyes, though he was sure Atsumu didn't mean it in a romantic way.

"As friends or—?" Hinata questioned.

"Of course, as friends. I'm not even sure he likes men."

"Dude, you're blind." Thomas laughed and Sakusa heard a rustling as he shouldered his back.

"Yeah, though I think you'd be too annoying for him. Even as friends. Sorry, Tsumu." Inunaki added nonchalantly.

"Huh?! Who are you calling annoying!? I bet he likes me!"

"Sure, let's say ten bucks?" the white-haired suggested.

"You're on!"

From the corner, Sakusa heard the not-so-quiet mumbling of Bokuto and Hinata making their own bets about whether they'd end up together.

Sakusa leaned against the wall of lockers separating them exasperated and contemplating his options. Maybe, just maybe, Motoya wasn't so wrong. And now he had something he could offer Atsumu in return, his pride. He was fairly certain Miya would do a fair deal for that.

He walked in, knowing that waiting any longer would come off as weird — if it wasn't already — and went straight to the showers. He knew he would have the chance to catch Atsumu afterwards before he left. He was always the last to leave while Sakusa was usually the first. The only reason he noticed were days like these when he was late in the morning.

True to his expectations once he returned Atsumu was still there slowly dressing himself.

"I heard about the bet." he started after the last of the others had left.

He said it as nonchalantly as possible while putting the towel aside and putting on his neatly folded clothes. Atsumu flinched and made an unintelligent noise of being caught.

"I'm sorry Omi, it was just a silly little... If you prefer I'll cancel it. Not that there is much use to it now anyway."

Sakusa watched him struggle and waited until his blabbering subsided before he continued. "Not necessary."

The blonde looked up surprised.

"I actually wanted to suggest a deal that might be beneficial for the both of us."

Atsumu's eyes narrowed in suspicion and Sakusa had the slight hunch that he didn't want to know what was going on in his head at that very moment. So he quickly resumed talking. "My parents plan a family get-together for this weekend. They are quite conservative, not to say outright homophobic, and always try to match me with some random girl so Motoya suggested I bring a date to stop them. "And preferably annoy them a bit. Since I know no one more annoying than you..." he explained.

Atsumu raised his brows before his typical smug smirk spread on his face that made him look somewhere between punch and kissable. "So ya want me to be yet date Omi-Omi?"

"Fake-date" he was quick to clarify.

"Sure, right. Because you don't actually like men."

"I like men, just not idiots like you."

Atsumu's eyes grew round in surprise. He was shocked, so much so that he almost forgot to be offended by the last part. He pouted. "And what do I get from that? I don't particularly fancy ya taking jabs at me for the whole weekend. I don't really have a thing for humiliation." he grinned as Sakusa almost choked and struggled to keep his composure, while his cheeks burnt red and he glared at the setter.

Deep breaths. This was exactly why he was perfect for this.

"This. You can be your full-on obnoxious self the whole weekend, flirt with me as aggressively as you like with no holding back and piss off some conservative assholes in the process. I know that that is one of your favourite hobbies."

Atsumu grinned wildly, almost feral and Sakusa just knew he'd be in for a wild ride if the blonde agreed. Letting him run free was a dangerous calculation for Kiyoomi's dignity and just hoped he would get to enjoy his parent's sour expression without getting too flustered and before he died of embarrassment.

"And you win the bet," he added finally.

The clear, joyous laugh of the setter echoed through the room and from the walls as he held his sides, as though Sakusa had just told him the funniest joke he had ever heard, irritating the spiker further.

"You got a deal, Darling." the blonde grinned.

"Save the pet names for the weekend, Miya." He quickly rushed to get out before Atsumu could see the blush blossoming on his cheeks, rapidly rising in intensity. Pray to the gods that he'd survive this one.

[sitp-recs]

Do you have any recommendations or tags for stories that have a dramatic love declaration?

Of course! I listed below my absolute faves as they left a big impression when it comes to love confessions. Whenever I get asks about this I crave for a Grey’s Anatomy AU emulating this scene with Lexie *sigh* (I always think of Far From the Tree when I see it though…)

An Emerald In The Sky by @corvuscrowned (M, 6k)

The hardest part about shagging an Unspeakable is that they’re not allowed to speak of anything. All Draco knows is that Harry works in Time. Harry works in Time, and while he’s out there in all of that time, it is as unforgiving to him as it is to anyone.

The Eighth Tale by lettered (E, 12k)

Draco Malfoy tries to fix the past, but instead mucks it up some more. For Harry, it all becomes quite clear.

What Real Thing? by @l0vegl0wsinthedark (E, 12.6k)

They don’t cuddle, they don’t talk about their relationship (or lack thereof) and they certainly never fall asleep in each other’s arms.

White as Snow by @bixgirl1 (E, 19k)

After a quick escape from danger, Harry and Draco find themselves trapped in a blizzard, a small cabin their only refuge from the storm. It's the perfect place to recover and regroup — and to have a long-overdue conversation or two.

The Boy Who Only Lived Twice by lettered (E, 54k)

Harry Potter is an Unspeakable. Draco Malfoy is the wizard who shagged him. Adventure! Intrigue! Secret identities, celebrities, spies! It's all right here, folks.

We Are Young (I'll Carry You Home Tonight) by Femme (E, 68k)

Harry and Draco have been falling into bed on and off again since the last election five years ago, much to the amusement--and financial gain--of their circle of friends.

Tea and No Sympathy by who_la_hoop (E, 70k)

It's Potter's fault, of course, that Draco finds himself trapped in the same twenty-four-hour period, repeating itself over and over again. It's been nearly a year since the unpleasant business at Hogwarts, and Draco's getting on with his life quite nicely, thank you, until Harry sodding Potter steps in and ruins it all, just like always.

Azoth by @lol-zeitgeistic (E, 88k)

Now that Harry is back at Hogwarts with Hermione for eighth year, he realises that something’s missing from his life, and it either has to do with Ron, his boggart, Snape, or Malfoy. Furthermore, what, exactly, does it mean when one’s life is defined by the desire to simultaneously impress and annoy a portrait? Harry has no idea; he’s too busy trying not to be in love with Malfoy to care.

Far From The Tree by aideomai (E, 112k)

The arrival of Harry Potter’s children—snapped back in time, the children themselves guessed, twenty or so years—was the most interesting thing to happen at Hogwarts for years.

What We Pretend We Can't See by gyzym (M, 131k)

Seven years out from the war, Harry learns the hard truth of old history: it’s never quite as far behind you as you thought.

Dwelling on Dreams by @the-sinking-ship (E, 135k)

Draco thought he could avoid Potter for the duration of his brief return to England. He’d stick to his schedule and be back home in Paris, where he belonged, in a few short months. No trouble at all. He had plenty to occupy him, what with the opening of the London branch of his successful apothecary, his innovative research, drinks with Pansy, a backlog of unread potions periodicals.

By the Grace by lettered (T, 140k)

Harry is an Auror instructor. Malfoy wants to be an Auror.

These Secrets In Me by Femme (E, 357k) - part 3 of Tales from the Special Branch series

Auror Special Branch team seven-four-alpha--Sergeant Draco Malfoy, Constable Pansy Parkinson, and Constable Blaise Zabini led by their SIO, Inspector Harry Potter--must handle personal and political fallout from the implication of Ministry employees and Aurors in the scandal around escaped Death Eaters and a Dementor uprising at Azkaban. On top of that, their original target, Antonin Dolohov, is in the wind.

[perspectivestarters]

Perspective's Sentence Starters; 1989 (Taylor's Version) by Taylor Swift (Part II)

WILDEST DREAMS

Let's get out of this town.

Heaven can't help me now.

Nothing lasts forever.

This is gonna take me down.

He's so tall and handsome as hell.

He's so bad, but he does it so well.

I can see the end as it begins.

Say you'll remember me.

Say you'll see me again.

Even if it's just in your wildest dreams.

No one has to know what wе do.

This is gettin' good now.

You'll see me in hindsight.

Burnin' it down.

Someday, when you leave me, I bet these memories follow you around.

HOW YOU GET THE GIRL

Are you insane?

It's been a long six months.

You were too afraid to tell her what you want.

That's how it works.

That's how you get the girl.

I want you for worse or for better.

I would wait forever and ever.

Broke your heart, I'll put it back together.

Remind her how it used to be.

Tеll her how you must have lost your mind.

You left her all alone and never told her why?

That's how you lost the girl.

You know that I don't want you to go.

THIS LOVE

I could go on and on.

And you were just gone.

I never dreamed of this.

This love is good.

This love is bad.

This love is alive back from the dead.

These hands had to let it go free.

This love came back to me.

Struggled through the night with someone new.

You showed up just in time.

I watched you leave.

When you're young, you just run.

You come back to what you need.

This love left a permanent mark.

This love is glowing in the dark.

I KNOW PLACES

It's a scene and we're out here in plain sight.

I can hear them whisper as we pass by.

It's a bad sign.

Somethin' happens when everybody finds out.

Love's a fragile little flame, it could burn out.

They are the hunters, we are the foxes.

I know places we won't be found.

They'll be chasing their tails tryin' to track us down.

I know places we can hide.

Lights flash and we'll run for the fences.

Let them say what they want, we won't hear it.

Loose lips sink ships all the damn time.

Just grab my hand and don't ever drop it.

They take their shots, but we're bulletproof.

You know, for me, it's always you.

I know, for you, it's always me.

CLEAN

The drought was the very worst.

The flowers that we'd grown together died of thirst

It was months and months of back and forth.

You're still all over me like a wine-stained dress I can't wear anymore.

Hung my head as I lost the war.

When I was drownin', that's when I could finally breathe.

I think I am finally clean.

I punchеd a hole in the roof.

Let the flood carry away all my pictures of you.

I screamed so loud, but no one heard a thing.

Just because you're clean, don't mean you don't miss it.

I won't give in.

Now that I'm clean, I'm never gonna risk it.

WONDERLAND

We fell down a rabbit hole.

Nothing's as it seems.

Didn't they tell us, "Don’t rush into things"?

Haven't you heard what becomes of curious minds?

Didn't it all seem new and excitin'?

I should have slept with one eye open at night.

We found Wonderland.

You and I got lost in it.

We pretended it could last forever.

Life was never worse, but never better.

There were strangers watchin'.

Whispers turned to talkin', and talking turned to screams.

Didn’t you calm my fears with a Cheshire cat smile?

It’s all fun and games 'til somebody loses their mind.

I reached for you, but you were gone.

I knew I had to go back home.

You searched the world for somethin' else to make you feel like what we had.

And in the end, in Wonderland, we both went mad.

YOU ARE IN LOVE

Time moved too fast.

No proof, not much, but you saw enough.

The light reflects the chain on your neck.

No proof, one touch, but you felt enough.

You can hear it in the silence.

You can feel it on the way home.

You can see it with the lights out.

You are in love.

He keeps his word.

For once, you lеt go of your fears and your ghosts.

You're my best friend.

He keeps a picture of you in his office downtown

You understand now why they lost their minds and fought the wars.

I've spent my whole life trying to put it into words.

NEW ROMANTICS

We're all so tired of everything.

We wait for trains that just aren't comin'.

We show off our different scarlet letters.

Trust me, mine is better.

We're so young, but we're on the road to ruin.

We play dumb, but we know exactly what we're doin'.

We cry tears of mascara in the bathroom.

I could build a castle out of all the bricks they threw at me.

Every day is like a battle.

Every night with us is like a dream.

We're the new romantics.

Heartbreak is the national anthem.

We are too busy dancin' to get knocked off our feet.

The best people in life are free.

The lights and noise are blinding.

It's all in the timing,

We need love, but all we want is danger.

We team up, then switch sides like a record changer.

The rumors are terrible and cruel but, honey, most of them are true.

Come along with me.

Please, take my hand.

Please, take me dancin'.

Please, leave me stranded.

It's so romantic.

[hphatecraft]

I refuse to give in to my blues That's not how it's gonna be And I deny the tears in my eyes I don't wanna let you see, no That you have made a hole in my heart And now I've got to fool myself

I'll get over you, I know I will I'll pretend my ship's not sinking And I'll tell myself I'm over you 'Cause I'm the king of wishful thinking

[hart-on-my-sleeve]

I made a breakup playlist for my fav ship :3

1) Little Gold Band - The Gentrys (On the list, but it's not on Spotify. :/ )

Come on and tell me/Tell me what's going on/I gave you all of my heart and soul/I thought our love was strong

2) Every Rose Has It's Thorns - Poison

Just like every cowboy sings his sad, sad song...

3) Look Away - Chicago

I tell you I'm fine/But sometimes I just pretend/Wish you were holding me

4) Don't Turn Around - Ace of Base

It's tearing me apart that you're leaving/I'm letting you go/But I won't let you know

5) Against All Odds - Phil Collins

How can you just walk away from me?/When all I can do is watch you leave/Cos we've shared the laughter and the pain and even shared the tears/You're the only one who really knew me at all

6) I Wouldn't Have Missed It For The World - Ronnie Milsap

Our paths may never cross again/Maybe my heart will never mend/But I'm glad for all the good times/Cause you've brought me so much sunshine/And love was the best it's ever been

7) The King of Wishful Thinking - Go West

I'll get over you, I know I will/I'll pretend my ship's not sinking/And I'll tell myself I'm over you/'Cause I'm the king of wishful thinking

8) Listen To Your Heart - Roxette

I don't know where you're going/And I don't know why/But listen to your heart/Before you tell him goodbye

[lokorum]

Bg3 act 1 asks

1,17

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHONESTLY at this point everyone here knows that im loko-slowko, slowpokes great grandmother, so what can i say but ₊˚⊹thank you₊˚⊹ for 1. being the sweetest bun in the world and taking your time to ask me about my silly oc!!! and 2. thank you for surviving this month or two while i was replying!!!!! I COULD SAY that i was thinking about my reply but i know better than to pretend to have a braaaaain ( o˘◡˘o)

so!! questions!!!

 tell us about your tav! name, class and subclass, race, pronouns. do you have a headcanon for where they're from? their family? are they a dark urge? or did you choose an origin character? was it an easy decision? (1)

my tav's name - isa or ise!! (with the emphasis on a\e!) 

their main class is rogue-assassin (tho they're not above unorthodox usage of salami) (in a fight!!!!!) and im still yet to try to play with amazing blood hunter mod!! (•̀ᴗ•́ )و

you can see that in game they are tiefling but thats just because for some reason this head??? this beautiful head??? can be used only on fem!tieflings!!!!!! but thankfully we're blessed with transmask top surgery mod so it just works. i think of them as of sooooomeeeekiiiind offfff elfff??? idk honestly!!! dnd races make me want to cry////////////but the vibe i was going for was "they look like they're 30 yo MAX when in actuality they like 150 ooops" 

their pronouns - they\he but! they're also mute (guess who grew up roleplaying silent-protagonists from early 2000 and cant get over it? CORVO SHOUDNT TALK BETHESDA OH MY FUCKING GOD WHAT HAVE YOU DONE????) and not very communicative so i bet no one from the party knows their pronouns.,,,,,,,,,,,,,,or name ??????????????????????( l|l⚆ᗝ⚆)

hpphphph i heard people saying "you shouldn't take durge for your first playthrough" and ⚠️REVERSED PSYCHOLOGY ACTIVATED⚠️ FLASHBACKS FROM VTM WHERE EVERYONE TELLS YOU NOT TO PLAY MALKAVIAN ON THE FIRST TRY BUT OFC I DID AND I LOVED IT so yeah no regrets, best decision of 2023 right after playing deltarune (spamton fanart incomiiiiiinnnngggg)    

in short - they are from skyrim any snowy land im faerun, name of which im gonna learn when i'll finally start to gather info together phpphphph sorry!! i 100000% adamant on them traveliong A LOT, but by that i dont mean `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹"5 best luxury boat tours in faerun for you and your questionably looking butler"‧₊˚✩彡 i mean..............................."youre *unexpected gerard way voice:* RAT and youre eating RATS on the boat that looks like its gonna sink. the smell of fish and seaweed is so bad you know you not gonna be able to wash it from your frozen shivering bleeding body. you hide in the boxes, in sacks, in dead people clothes, in everyone's shadows and when you're finally out - your eyes sting from the light and you cry but your cheeks are so cold you cant feel it" kinda tours? 😳🙄

17. what does your character think of withers? 

CURIOUS! isa are very curious about withers and like......they want to touch him?? to know whats up with their skin?? THEY SMELLED HIM HANNIBAL STYLE!!!! i bet they were suspiciously watching him talking with other party members in the camp, while hiding in a bush. PROBABLY WITH ASTARION THAT RAT OH MY GOSH

honestly if we could have a platonic ship with withers isa would be first in line kissing him on a cheek and taking him on a date (just so this cold-hearted sexy skeleton could dump them later saying "YOuR WheELs Of FaTe TurNEd EvEr tO thE DaRKnesS" or whatever......SO MEAN!!)

[allisonreader]

"O'Donald! Put me down!"

"Fine." He tossed her into a room and started to close the door before she could start to scramble back up to get out.

"You won't get away with this!"

He sneered, "I already have, we're sinking." He closed the door and locked it just short of her getting to it.

She tried the handle to no avail. "NO! Let me out! I have a job to be doing!" She banged on the door. She had to get out of here. The only other option was death otherwise, but pain before that point. Someone would have to hear her. Shouldn't they?

"Dear? Are you alright? I don't know why you're crying, but maybe I can help."

She darted up from her curled up crying position when she felt the hand on her shoulder. She looked around frantically, only to find she was in an unfamiliar hallway.

"Where am I? Am I..." she gulped... "am I dead already?"

"Why would you think such a thing? You are as alive as I am right now. Did you hit your head?"

"I... I don't think so?"

"What do you last remember?"

"Being thrown into a room and having the door locked behind me by Ryan O'Donald as the Titanic is sinking. Shouldn't we be moving to get to lifeboats?"

"This isn't funny dear. I understand wanting to dress like this, but to pretend to be her for this trip is cruel."

"What are you talking about? Why aren't you concerned about the ship sinking? We need to get to the lifeboats."

"The ship is not sinking, as ironic as that would be for this-"

"The Titanic ISN'T unsinkable! We need to get to a lifeboat before it's too late!"

"Dear, I know the Titanic isn't unsinkable... The Titanic sunk a 100 years, that's why we're all here, for the memorial."

"No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, I was just on the Titanic, I am on the Titanic and it's sinking... We need to go!"

The older lady started leading her down the hall.

"Maybe we should go and see the doctor on board here, you're seeming more than a bit confused. Perhaps you hit your head and you didn't realize it."

"...It's possible, but we should be more concerned about getting off the Titanic."

"It'd be pretty hard to get off a ship we're not on. Now please drop your act, it really is cruel to pretend to be Jess Hudson."

"I'm not pretending! I'm not playing a game! How in the world do you know my name?"

"Dear, everyone knows her name, and it's not yours. We're coming upon sickbay here, the doctor will be able to help you."

Her protests fell silent as they entered sickbay. This wasn't familiar and didn't look like any sickbay she was familiar with.

"What seems to be the problem ma'am?"

"I believe this young lady has hit her head. She seems confused and is utterly convinced that she is Jessica Hudson and is on the Titanic. Could it be that she hit her head and with all the work up for this anniversary, is why she thinks such? I think it's more than a touch cruel if she's just pretending. Jessica was my aunt, you see. My momma and daddy were so effected by not truly knowing what happened to her. They didn't live quite long enough for them to have found Aunt Jess's letter. My father and mother were right though, that something had happened to her to keep her from making her post. It's quite a tragic story. My parents always had such a hard time with it."

"Alright, let me look her over. If you'll just stay here, I'll take this young lady to just behind that screen, for privacy."

"Oh, of course."

"Right over here Miss, and I'll get you to just sit right up here, just on the chair is fine. Is the lady who brought you in, your grandmother? Possibly starting to go a bit senile?"

She shook her head. "No sir, I've never met her before a few minutes ago. Are... are we really not aboard the Titanic?"

"We are not aboard the Titanic. We are on a ship that is much bigger, much more modern, and perhaps most importantly, has enough lifeboats for everyone on board as well as there being no icebergs anywhere near."

"There aren't any ships bigger than the Titanic and the only other ship that is the same size, though lighter is the Olympic."

"I need to ask you a whole bunch of questions so we can figure this out, okay?"

She just nodded.

"Can you tell me your name?"

"...Jessica... Hudson..."

"Thank you Miss Hudson. What about your family? Your parents and any siblings?"

"My parents names were Sarah and Henry Hudson, both died before I was 20, momma when I was 17 and daddy in the Spanish American war. I have an older brother Henry, and a twin sister Ruth, who was born first. John Winters is sort of an adopted brother, and I have a sister in law Joan."

"And birth year and today's date."

"1888, and it's April 14 or maybe the 15 now, 1912."

"Miss Hudson, it's 2012."

She started shaking her head. "No, that can't be... How?"

"We'll figure something out Miss Hudson. May I look you over for any injuries?"

She nodded slowly, he started with her head.

"I need you to tell me if anything feels tender. Okay?"

"Alright."

He didn't seem to find anything on her head, but certainly noticed the bruises on her arms.

"What happened that you have so many bruises on your arms?"

"O'Donald figured out I was a woman somehow and didn't take kindly to the fact. Before I realized what was happening, he grabbed me and threw me in a room. I don't know how I'm still not locked up in there."

"There's no evidence that you've hit your head, and I believe that you seem to be displaced in time at the moment, we'll know more soon."

Xxx

"Nanna! Nanna! Where did you go?"

"Oh? Are you looking for your grandmother? That's very sweet. Where did you last see her?"

"She was just right beside me, we were making our way to the lifeboats, she must have gone down a different hall without me noticing."

"Why were you trying to get to the lifeboats? Everyone wants to be on deck tonight for the memorial. Isn't that what you're going to want to be going to?"

"No. We were told the ship is sinking and we need to get to the lifeboats, I can't leave Nanna behind. I have to find her."

"Maybe she has made her way to the deck already, but you needn't worry about the ship sinking. Even if we did we have enough lifeboats for everyone, we've had the drills so we know what to do and where to go. As well as there being several other cruise ships quite close as they all want to be close to the wreck site as well."

"I am Erik Piston, a first class passenger on the Titanic, which I'm trying to get off with my grandmother because it's sinking. Either help me find my grandmother ma'am, or get to a lifeboat yourself."

"Mister Piston, if that is actually your name young man, I don't take kindly to your tone or your roll play. It's highly inappropriate to keep such a ruse up on such a big anniversary of the event."

"Anniversary? I haven't a clue what anniversary you are speaking of. I came on a trip with my grandmother for business and to keep her out of trouble. We're on our way home, which we will not make if we do not get onto a lifeboat."

"You're not making much sense young man. If this is some kind of joke, it's not funny. Some of us actually lost family members on the Titanic. I never got to meet my aunt, because she was locked up and left to die by a fellow sailor. Not that that was known for many years."

"There's a woman sailor on board?"

"Oh I'm sure there's a few these days."

"What?"

"Perhaps we should get you to sickbay with how confused you seem."

"Shouldn't we be getting off ship?"

"Tell me young man, do we feel like we're at an angle at all? We're not sinking and we are not on the Titanic. You are going to see a doctor."

"I don't need a doctor, I need to find my grandmother, Margaret Piston and get off this ship."

"We'll get off this ship soon enough, but only after you see a doctor."

"Josie? What are you doing here?"

"I'd ask you the same thing, Penny."

"I brought a young woman here because she won't let up the ruse that she's our aunt."

"I brought this young man for a similar reason, he's absolutely sure he's on the Titanic."

"Of all the people for this to happen to, it's us. Like daddy having to survive while Aunt Jess was murdered wasn't enough."

"Penny, I think you're overreacting to it a touch. They're both obviously confused, it's not their fault for that."

"Come over young man, your name?"

"Erik Piston."

"And the year?"

"1912."

"Perhaps you would like to speak with Miss Hudson, she seems to be in the same mind set as you."

"Same mind set?"

"Displaced in time a hundred years."

"What?"

"It's 2012."

"That's not possible..."

"Why don't you go speak with Miss Hudson, she's just behind that screen there."

"Miss Hudson? The doctor sent me over, saying we are of the same mind set?"

"Who are you?"

"Erik Piston, I, ah, don't understand exactly what is going on... Last I knew my grandmother was trying to get me to hurry, so we could get off the Titanic."

"I don't either, one moment I was stuck, locked in a room on the Titanic, the next thing I knew I was free in a hall and brought here by an old lady who thinks I'm pretending to be her aunt."

"That's similar to how I was brought here, an old lady who didn't believe me about the Titanic, thought I was pretending and confused."

"That is eerily the same, if we're going to talk, you might as well come around the screen."

"You're a sailor!?"

"Yes, I am."

oOo

"Now ladies, don't you worry about those two. They'll be well looked after. As it is, I do believe that the two of you are guests of honour on this ship, and are to be dropping the first wreath in honour for your aunt at the memorial?"

"We are."

"Well, let's get you out to deck where you need to be."

"They are to stay in sickbay then?"

"Yes, neither the young gentleman or young lady will be at the memorial. I highly doubt that they meant to offend you, they're just confused."

oOo

"Save your voice, and I'll knock on doors until I find you."

"Emery, there you are. Where did you sneak away to? We're try to get off this sinking ship, we don't have time to get separated."

"I'm sorry Nanna, it won't happen again, but we have one more stop to make before we can try to leave the ship."

He walked determinedly to where she had described being held.

"Emery, what are you doing?"

"Something important." He knocked on the door he believed she described, and heard her respond.

[dorotheado]

i'll do anything you say if you say it with your hands // i knew you'd come back to me // this love came back to me // i'm insane but i'm your baby // can't decide if it's a choice getting swept away // for you i would fall from grace just to touch your face // you and i got lost in it and we pretended it could last forever // we were crazy to think that this would work // losing grips on sinking ships you showed up just in time // we say that we'll just screw it up in these trying times, we're not trying // i don't know what to call this situation but i know i can't call you mine // no rules in breakable heaven // this slope is treacherous and i like it // back then we didnt know we were built to fall apart we broke the status quo and we broke each other's hearts // you give me just enough attention to keep my hopes too high // good girls, hopeful they'll be, long they will wait // lantern burning, flickered in my mind for only you, but you were still gone // this is falling in love in the cruelest way // we learn to live with the pain mosaic broken hearts // i know i make the same mistakes every time, bridges burn, i never learn // they're born from just one single glance but they die and they die and they die a million little times // carnations you had thought were roses, that's us // religions in your lips even if its a false god // i just sit here and wait, grieving for the living we're on the road to ruin, we play dumb but we know exactly what we're doing // we break down a little, but when you get me alone it's so simple // every day is like a battle, but every night with us is like a dream // i know how to act like I'm fine // said im fine but it wasn't true i don't wanna keep secrets just to keep you // back when i was living for the hope of it all // if i'm dead to you why are you at the wake // til we were dead and gone and buried check the pulse and come back swearing its the same after three months in the grave // if the story's over, why am i still writing pages?

[maeve-on-mustafar]

Regarding your Obikin fics...

Hi, I'm fandom. I read all the fics, ever. If there's a new fic of course I'd rather read something new than something I've read before. Also, I really dislike bratty Anakin, and the some of current popular trends for this ship. But I don't have a choice - I read everything anyway. Regarding popular fics - more recent fics (no matter the quality) rise in popularity faster than stuff that's old but good.

And I checked - I've read your fics before - just now I read a fic and wasn't able to kudos it, since I kudos'd it way back.

Hi, anon. Thanks for taking the time to stop by and leave an ask for me. It was genuinely kind of you to take the time. And I also really appreciate you taking the time to leave kudos, but also that one of my fics meant enough to you for you to go back and reread. That means more to me than I can ever say.

Re: the main subject of your ask: I honestly really would like to write Obikin fic. It's the main ship I daydream about and have fun coming up with little plots and ideas for them that I'd love to put into writing. But I already know that fandom wouldn't like anything I have to offer. Any time in the past I've tried to go against the grain and write a fic that didn't align with popular fanon, people just ignored the fic I wrote and pretended like it didn't exist, and the fic I'd worked hard on amounted to approximately nothing in the end. Not only does the fandom mantra of, "Fans will always want a different take not hold true," but the experience was just a reminder that there's definitely no reward for trying to write your own ideas rather than following the popular fandom trends.

And look, I'm not here to hate on popular fandom trends. People like what they like, and they're allowed to like what they like. And frankly, if I had the option of trading away my own ideas or any amount of talent or creativity I do have in order to write the kind of fic that gets popular, I'd do it in a heartbeat. It sure beats the constant struggle between wanting to write one of the fic ideas that I have now and knowing that it's not the kind of fic that fandom wants to see and that I'll be fucking myself over if I write it.

Spending time and effort to write a fic that fandom has already decided it doesn't want (because, let's face it, if fandom wanted competent!Anakin fics, it would already be a trend by now), just seems like a fool's errand. Why would I spend time trying to write the fic of my heart about Anakin being a badass and Obi-Wan being ambivalently disapproving but intensely intrigued by his methods, when at the end of the day, it's just going to be brushed aside for a fic about Anakin being a himbo disaster? There's nothing wrong himbos, but it's not a great feeling to know that your fic is going to sink like a stone because you didn't include that particular trait.

I guess what this all boils down to is that I'm tired. I'm tired of getting ideas that I want to write and knowing it would be useless to write them because they don't match the popular fandom fic mold. I'm tired of popular fanon characterization superseding canon, and fan works that don't use said fanon characterization being dismissed as inaccurate. But most of all, I'm tired of having a pairing live rent-free in my head and constantly giving me new ideas, and needing to weigh the pros and cons of writing said idea over and over, before ultimately deciding it has more cons than pros.

Because at a certain point, popular fanon reaches such a degree that it stops being a trend and starts being a rule. And if you can't measure up to that rule, does fandom truly want you?

[immaculate-benediction-batch]

King of Wishful Thinking

Song by Go West

I don't need to fall at your feet

Just 'cause you cut me to the bone

And I won't miss the way that you kiss me

We were never carved in stone

If I don't listen to the talk of the town

Then maybe I can fool myself

I'll get over you, I know I will

I'll pretend my ship's not sinking

And I'll tell myself I'm over you

'Cause I'm the king of wishful thinking

(King of wishful thinking)

I am the king of wishful thinking

I refuse to give in to my blues

That's not how it's gonna be

And I deny the tears in my eyes

I don't wanna let you see, no

That you have made a hole in my heart

And now I've got to fool myself

I'll get over you, I know I will

I'll pretend my ship's not sinking

And I'll tell myself I'm over you

'Cause I'm the king of wishful thinking (I'll get over you, I know I will)

I'll pretend my ship's not sinking

And I'll tell myself I'm over you

'Cause I'm the king of wishful thinking, yeah (king of wishful thinking)

Oh no, I will never, never shed a tear for you

I'll get over you (I know I will)

If I don't listen to the talk of the town

Then maybe I can fool myself

I'll get over you, I know I will

I'll pretend my ship's not sinking

And I'll tell myself I'm over you

'Cause I'm the king of wishful thinking (king of wishful thinking)

I'm the king of wishful thinking

[itsgettinghardtoknowwhatsreal]

I don't need to fall at your feet

Just because you cut me to the bone

And I won't miss the way that you kiss me

We were never carved in stone

And if I don't listen to the talk of the town

Then maybe I can fool myself

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

I'll get over you, I know I will

I'll pretend my ship's not sinking

And I'll tell myself I'm over you

'Cause I am the king of wishful thinking

[tathrin]

"I'm a writer, dear," said the little old woman, straightening her pillbox hat atop her curls. "I create a new soul every time I invent a new OC, and when you have a wip as long as this one you go through a lot of redshirts over the years, poor dears. So that's plenty of souls to keep paying you with. Besides," she shrugged, "if I ever do find I'm running low when I need to spend some, I can always dash-off a quick oneshot. Or sometimes I ask the readers to donate; there's usually at least a few who are happy to hand some of their extras over when I'm in a pinch."

"That makes no sense," the demon complained. "None of that makes any sense. Fictional souls aren't even real."

The old woman raised her eyebrows over the tops of her reading glasses and gave him a withering look. The demon didn't know how she could look down her nose at him like that when he was so much taller than her even when she wasn't sitting at her stupid little desk, but she'd been doing it long enough that he only bristled a little now, smoke rising from his shoulders as he curled his tail in tight around an ankle.

"They're real to the people reading about them," she retorted tartly. "And they're real to me. That's always been good enough for you before."

"But..."

The demon gave up; he could tell that argument wasn't going to get him anywhere, except possibly hiding in a blanket until he stopped dripping wet ashes again.

Instead he tried a new tactic. "Aren't you tired of this by now? Aren't you getting too, well...too old to care about something so silly? You're a grown woman. An old woman. Are you really going to keep going to the effort of finding and selling me souls just so you can keep writing your silly little ships?"

The old woman rolled her eyes, blisteringly unimpressed. "I've been writing these two since their fourth episode aired, from photocopying 'zines and passing around forum links and what-have-you to today, and I'm not about to stop now. Not when they're almost on the brink of finally confessing how they feel!"

"Finally confessing—? I thought they did that 800 years ago!" the demon snapped. It wasn't like he read her stupid fanfic, or even wanted to pay attention when she told him about it; but some things sink-in whether you want to know them or not, after a few thousand years.

The old woman flapped a pudgy hand clad in a purple fingerless glove. It wasn't that the room was cold; there wasn't really such a thing as temperature left. But she claimed that she felt more "cozy" with the gloves on, so she wore them. Now she tsked at him and adjusted the knitted wrist. "Oh, you're talking about chapter seven-hundred-and-twelve, aren't you? No, no that was the sex-pollen talking," she said dismissively. "That wasn't a real confession. And they both know it, so they've both been pretending it didn't happen, because it wasn't real. See? In fact, if you'd been paying attention, you'd know they'd spent the next thirteen chapters angsting about how much they each wish it had been real."

The demon stared at her.

"It's called 'mutual pining,' sweetie," she explained, patting his flaming cheek. "Also, 'not-actually-unrequited' but of course the whole point is that tag is that the characters both think it's unrequited, that's where the angst comes from." She shook her head, her grey curls bouncing. "Anyway, if you'll pardon me, I have to post the next chapter of the wip today or I'll disappoint my readers—"

"What readers?" the demon wailed, overcome with the endless exasperation of this woman. Overcome with the frustration of spending eternity trapped in this little room, whose existence she had bought with a soul; with its endless supply of hot tea and cookies and character-playlists in a musical format that hadn't existed for 300,000 years, all of which she had bought with another three souls; and whose freshly-crocheted blankets she always bought with a new soul whenever one wore out. Whose ancient laptop (another device that hadn't existed for almost 700,000 years) somehow never, ever, ever wore-out or ran low on battery, and oh how did he regret giving her that little miracle in exchange for a single soul! If he'd known then what he knew now...well, he still wouldn't know what the fuck was going on, but at least he'd have charged higher rates for some of this stuff along the way.

"What readers?" he wailed again. "You've been selling me souls for millennia now in exchange for fresh lifetimes in order to keep writing these stupid things, in exchange for all the stupid trappings of a lifestyle that no one but you remembers even having, but there are no people left! No one is reading your—"

"Oooh, new comment!" the old woman exclaimed. She leaned in close, squinting through her glasses at the screen, her lips moving to herself as she read and then slowly curling into a wide smile. "Ahh, I love when they copy-paste their favorite lines back to me," she told the demon, her voice bright with glee, "but I especially love when they just capslock-and-scream at me!"

The demon stared at her for a while. Eventually he said, "Let me see it," and grabbed for her screen.

The old woman sat back and let him look.

"What...how...but...?" The demon blinked and slowly stepped back, sagging into a battered armchair that had seen better centuries. "But there are no people left! Who's even reading this thing?"

"There are demons."

The demon stared at her. "What," he said.

"There are demons," the old woman repeated firmly. "You're one yourself; are you telling me you've been alive for millions of years, and you still don't have an AO3 account?" She shook her head, her lips pursing disapprovingly. "I suppose you don't even leave kudos."

"I don't even know what you're talking about," the demon replied helplessly.

The old woman looked him up and down and snorted. "No," she said, "I suppose you wouldn't. Well, I realized a long time ago that a lot of my readers weren't human—or at least, weren't things that remembered what it was like to be human anymore—but why on earth would that stop me updating? My characters aren't all human either, and that doesn't stop me writing—nor does it stop my readers enjoying the story. It just means I've learned to be a little more careful with my exposition, making sure that the important bits are clear enough that even folks who can't take the basics of human life for granted understand what's going on, and what matters."

The demon stared at her some more.

"Anyway," she said, shrugging and reaching for her mug of tea, "if you'll pardon me, I should really get back to work. This 500,000,000k slow-burn won't write itself, and it's almost time for them to kiss, I think." She grinned. "That's going to get me a lot of capslocks...especially when I reveal that the previous kiss in chapter nine-hundred-and-seven was actually on the holodeck, and our dear captain wasn't actually even in that scene!" She chortled to herself, a machiavellian master of tortures that could have brought half the Dukes of Hell to their knees weeping.

The demon stared at her. After a while, he brought up his phone and selected the appropriate tag-search and scrolled through until he found the link he sought. It wasn't difficult, at least; once he set it to sort by update-date, it was the top fic in the listing. The only fic that had been posted for over 300,000 years. Then he clicked onto chapter one.

If he was going to be trapped here with her for eternity, at least he'd have something to read.

“Where do you keep getting these from!?” The demon asked the last person in the universe, frustrated and confused as he was paid with a soul that had no right to exist.

[xproskeith]

King Of Wishful Thinking by New Found Glory is absolutely about shipping. And that ship not being Canon.

"I'll get over you. I know I will. I'll pretend my ship's not sinking. I'll be the king of wishful thinking."

I mean lmao