#as if they weren’t already GLITTERING in season one

[ennabear]

when i say her eyes sparkled and shined and gleamed and glistened this is what i mean

[gyuuberryy]

vanilla coconut !

pairing: sunshine!sunoo x grumpy!reader

genre: one sided enemies to lovers, sunshine x grumpy trope, barista au, christmas au

synopsis: it's winter break and instead of exploring switzerland with your friends, you're unwillingly working in your mom's cafe. to make matters worse, the new hire is a little too clingy and hyper, always adamant on getting you excited for the holiday season, much to your dismay. as you're forced to be around him for more than half of the day, every single day, you learn a thing or two from each other. he smiles for the both of you, whatever you do is enough for him and whatever he does is too much for you. maybe just maybe you could be friends, or perhaps something more?

warnings: kissing, jealousy, flirty!sunoo, family issues, argument, reader is kinda mean, crying,

note: i finally got to write for my biggest crush—sunoo!(I'M SO IN LOVE WITH HIM) this has a slight hallmark movie vibe because i lovee them. merry christmas!

word count: 10.1k

i love reading your comments and reblogs, so please do so if you liked reading this<3

the plan had been perfect.

switzerland in winter, cozy chalets, the sparkle of snowflakes in the alps, and hot chocolate that was more melted dessert than drink. your friends had already started posting pictures: selfies by frosted windows, snow-covered towns that looked ripped out of postcards, and captions so carefree they stung.

but no. you weren’t in switzerland. you were here, in the cramped kitchen of your mom’s café, drowning in holiday specials and watching other people live out the joy you were supposed to be having.

“do you have to look so miserable?” your mom asked that morning as you trudged downstairs. “you’ll scare away the customers.”

“it’s not my fault i’m stuck here,” you muttered, your words muffled by the scarf you were wrapping around your neck.

your mom sighed but didn’t argue. she didn’t have to. the weight of responsibility—the oldest sibling’s eternal curse—hung heavily between you. when your mom had insisted you stay behind to help with the café’s holiday rush, the conversation hadn’t exactly been open for debate.

“it’s your responsibility,” your mom had said, her voice as unwavering as ever. “you’re the oldest. you understand that, don’t you?”

she’d said it like it was obvious, like it didn’t matter that you’d saved for months or that this was your last winter break before finishing university. your siblings had been conveniently absolved of all obligations, leaving you to pick up the slack.

and now here you were, staring out the café window at holiday shoppers bustling about their merry little lives.

it wasn’t just the lost trip that soured your mood. normally, you liked the holiday season—the warm lights, the scent of cinnamon in the air, the general buzz of joy. but this year, it felt impossible to muster up even a hint of cheer. maybe it was the bitterness of being left behind. or maybe it was the feeling that everyone else got to celebrate while you were stuck doing the thankless work.

whatever it was, you wanted no part of it. no twinkling lights, no jingly music, no forced smiles. if it were up to you, you’d fast-forward straight to january.

suddenly, the bell above the door jingled, snapping you out of your brooding. you straightened up, putting on your polite customer-service face as you prepared to take their order. but the sight that greeted you stopped you cold.

the man standing in the doorway looked like he’d lost a fight with a christmas clearance bin—and lost spectacularly. his coat was a patchwork of red and green, his scarf glittering with snowflake designs, and atop his head sat a ridiculous pom-pom hat that looked like it came straight from santa’s workshop, bouncing with every step.

you squinted at him, wondering how anyone could walk around looking like a walking holiday advertisement and not feel the slightest bit self-conscious. he practically radiated cheer, and you were already bracing yourself for the headache that would inevitably follow when you took his order. 

his curious eyes stopped their surveillance once they stopped at you. he lit up and waved at you enthusiastically(his mittens made a soft fwip-fwip sound against the air as he did that, making him look even more adorable ridiculous in your opinion).

“sunoo!” your mom’s delighted voice rang out, cutting through your internal judgment. she emerged from the back, her face lighting up as if he were her long lost son. “you’re early! perfect timing.”

“always early for christmas,” he replied, his voice as bright as his outfit.

you raised an eyebrow, trying to piece together what was happening as your mom motioned for him to come closer.

“sunoo’s going to be helping us out during the holiday rush,” she explained, turning to you with an expectant smile. “isn’t that wonderful?”

wonderful was not the word you would have chosen.

before you could object, sunoo turned his attention to you, his smile widening like he’d just found the best present under the tree.

“hi!” he said, thrusting out a hand. “i’m sunoo. it’s so great to meet you! your mom’s told me all about you.”

“uh.. hi,” you managed, shaking his hand hesitantly.

“she also said you’re going to be showing me the ropes!” he added, his enthusiasm not faltering for even a second.

your mom patted his shoulder approvingly before disappearing back into the kitchen, leaving you alone with who could only be described as christmas incarnate himself.

“where should we start?” sunoo asked, looking around the café with sparkling eyes. “drinks? decorations? oh, wait—do i get an apron?”

you blinked at him, trying to process how someone could have this much energy so early in the day. “uh, yeah. apron’s over there,” you muttered, pointing toward the storage cabinet.

as he darted off to grab one, you couldn’t shake the sinking feeling that this holiday season was about to get a lot more...complicated.

the next few days were nothing short of exhausting and it wasn’t because of the café rush.

it was him.

day one with sunoo was a test of patience.

he wasn’t just enthusiastic—he was relentless. he greeted every customer like an old friend, remembered their names and favorite drinks, and even started a suggestion box for “holiday improvements,” which was quickly overflowing with ideas.

on his second day, came the first incident. while you were preparing an espresso, sunoo decided to take matters into his own hands and “spread holiday cheer.” which apparently meant hanging garlands around the counter while you worked.

"could you not?" you finally snapped as a strand of tinsel landed on your shoulder.

"it’s festive!" he countered, grinning as he perched a tiny santa hat on the espresso machine. "doesn’t it make you feel jollier?"

you glared at him. "i’m plenty jolly."

he blinked innocently. "are you sure? because you’ve been frowning for…well, since i got here."

but it wasn’t just the decorations. sunoo had an uncanny ability to be everywhere at once. whether it was bringing you hot cocoa during your break (“it has marshmallows!”) or attempting to teach you his rendition of “jingle bells” while you prepped the next batch of cookies, he was always there.

“smile more!” he said one afternoon as you handed a cappuccino to a customer.

“i am smiling,” you replied through gritted teeth.

“that’s not a smile. that’s...a grimace,” he teased, leaning in with mock seriousness. “here, watch me.”

he turned to the next customer, flashing a grin so radiant it could have melted an iceberg. “welcome! isn’t it just a great day to treat yourself?”

the customer chuckled, clearly charmed. you, on the other hand, wanted to crawl under the counter and hide.

well yes, you begrudgingly had to admit that his presence had improved the café’s working tremendously. the customers loved him. he remembered names, guessed favorite drinks, and made people laugh. tips flowed into the jar like magic.  but he was trying to ruin your plan of not appreciating the holiday season! and you were not going to let that happen.

but, by the end of the week, something shifted.

slowly—very slowly—you had started to tolerate him.

it wasn’t that he stopped being annoying. if anything, his energy seemed to double with each passing day. but somewhere between his absurd carol remixes and the way he handed out extra cookies to kids who looked like they’d been dragged to the café against their will, you found yourself less irritated.

not impressed. definitely not charmed(lies!). just...less annoyed.

but one question lingered at the back of your mind: why? why was he so happy? what made him light up like a human christmas tree every day?

you weren’t sure you wanted to know the answer. but as you caught him grinning at a regular customer who’d just handed him a homemade ornament, you couldn’t help but wonder.

the café was quiet as you flipped the sign to "closed" and started tidying up for the night. it had been a long day, and you couldn’t wait to finally go home.

just as you locked the register and reached for your coat, the bell above the door jingled. you turned, irritation already bubbling up.

“we’re closed,” you started, but your words faltered when you recognized the man standing there.

“y/n,” your ex-boyfriend said, his smirk as familiar as it was grating. he stepped inside, dressed in a tailored coat that screamed money and arrogance. god, you can’t believe you fell for someone like him as a teenager.

beside him stood a woman teetering on heels that seemed entirely impractical for the icy streets outside. her outfit was bold, to say the least, a mishmash of sequins and faux fur that seemed more suited for a nightclub than a quiet evening in a café.

“oh my gosh,” the girlfriend squealed, twirling a strand of platinum-blonde hair. “babe, is this the little place you were talking about? it’s, like, so...cute!”

your ex casually leaned against the counter you had just wiped, trying to look cool. “i told her about this café. thought we’d stop by, see if you were still here.”

still here? the condescension in his tone made your jaw clench.

“it’s nice to see you’re keeping busy,” he added, his eyes sweeping over you like he was assessing your worth.

you plastered on a polite smile, one you reserved for particularly rude customers. “we’re closed, actually. maybe come back tomorrow.”

“aw, don’t be like that,” he said smoothly, ignoring your words entirely. “i was just telling tiffany here about how we used to hang out all the time. she couldn’t believe it. right, tiff?”

tiffany nodded enthusiastically, chewing gum as she looked around the café. “totally. i mean, you’re, like, so brave for working here. i could never do customer service—ugh, people are just the worst, you know?”

you stared at her, unsure if she was trying to insult you or if she genuinely had no self-awareness.

“i’ve been doing amazing, in case you were wondering. just opened my own tech startup. big investors, huge growth potential. you know how it is—some of us were always meant to do big things.”

he gave you a pointed look, and you felt your jaw tighten.

“and of course, i’ve got tiffany now.” he draped an arm over his girlfriend’s shoulders, and she giggled, resting her manicured hand on his chest.

“uh-huh,” you said, folding your arms. “well, congrats. i need to finish closing, so if you don’t mind—”

“oh, don’t rush us,” tiffany said with a pout. “we’re just, like, so fascinated by this little place. did you decorate it yourself? it’s so quaint!”

before you could respond, the door opened again, and in walked sunoo, bundled up in his bright scarf, carrying a bag of cookies.

“there you are!” he said cheerfully, making a beeline for you. he barely glanced at your ex before sliding an arm around your shoulders, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “sorry i’m late, babe. got caught up picking these up for you.”

your ex straightened, his brows knitting together. “babe?”

sunoo turned to him, his smile wide. “oh, sorry, i didn’t realize you were talking to my girlfriend.”

the word “girlfriend” sent a jolt through you, but sunoo didn’t give you time to react. he extended a hand towards your ex. “i’m sunoo. and you are?”

“her ex-boyfriend,” he replied stiffly, clearly caught off guard.

“oh!” sunoo said, feigning surprise. “well, nice to meet you. guess you’re the one who didn’t see how amazing she is, huh?”

you blinked, your cheeks warming as sunoo turned to tiffany, giving her a polite nod before focusing back on your ex.

“you know, y/n’s been working so hard lately,” sunoo continued, his voice light but deliberate. “between helping out here and pursuing her corporate law degree, she’s just incredible. i mean, it’s not every day you meet someone with brains, ambition, and kindness all rolled into one.”

your ex’s confident smirk faltered, and tiffany’s chewing slowed as she looked at you with newfound confusion.

“she’s studying law?” tiffany asked, wide-eyed.

sunoo nodded, his smile unwavering. “yep. top of her class, too. honestly, i don’t know how she does it. i feel lucky just to be a part of her life.”

your ex opened his mouth, likely to retaliate, but sunoo wasn’t done.

“and she’s so good with people,” sunoo added, looking at you with a softness that made your heart skip a beat. “customers just adore her. i see it every day—her kindness and how much she cares about others. it’s inspiring, really.”

your ex looked like he’d swallowed a lemon, his girlfriend now staring at him with something akin to disappointment.

“and now,” sunoo said, turning back to you, “i think it’s time we head home, don’t you, sweetheart?”

before you could process what was happening, sunoo leaned in and kissed you. it wasn’t a quick peck, nor was it overly dramatic. it was soft, lingering just enough to leave your heart racing and your mind spinning.

when he pulled back, he smiled at you, completely unfazed. “let’s go.”

you nodded, your voice seemingly lost, and allowed him to guide you toward the back.

as soon as you were out of earshot, you whispered, “what the hell was that?”

“that,” he said, grinning, “was me helping you. you’re welcome.”

you wanted to argue, to scold him for his audacity, but instead, all you could do was feel the butterflies in your stomach.

sunoo, ever the cheerful enigma, simply winked at you before heading to the kitchen, leaving you wondering why you couldn’t stop smiling.

the next day at the café began like any other, the morning rush fading into a calm lull as the afternoon light filtered through the frosted windows. you stood behind the counter, idly wiping it down, the hum of soft café music mixing with the faint clinking of dishes being cleaned.

across from you, sunoo was in his usual element, drying a tray of mugs with an ease that felt almost theatrical. he hummed a festive tune under his breath, the kind of annoyingly catchy holiday song you couldn’t escape this time of year. unlike most people, though, he wasn’t out of tune—his voice was smooth, each note light and cheerful.

despite yourself, your eyes drifted toward him. it was hard not to watch the way he worked, his every movement quick yet deliberate. but what caught you the most wasn’t his efficiency—it was his smile.

sunoo had this way of smiling that was entirely his own. it wasn’t just polite or perfunctory; it was warm, genuine, and impossibly bright. whether it was an elderly regular ordering tea or the grumpiest customer throwing a tantrum over a latte, he treated everyone with the same sunny energy, as if he’d been waiting all day just to see them.

you barely noticed your cloth stalling on the counter as your gaze lingered on him. his lips curved up, eyes crinkling at the corners, his entire face lighting up in a way that could rival the café’s twinkling christmas lights.

“earth to y/n!”

his voice jolted you from your thoughts, and your head snapped up to see him standing there, a mug still in one hand, the other waving dramatically in front of your face.

“you’re staring,” he said with a knowing grin, leaning casually against the counter. his apron hung slightly askew, a splash of frothy milk smudged near the edge, but he didn’t seem to care.

“i was not staring,” you shot back, too quickly for your own good. the heat rushing to your cheeks betrayed you, though, as you fumbled to sound indifferent. “i was zoning out.”

“sure you were,” he teased, his grin widening into something playful, yet somehow unbearably charming. “let me guess—you were thinking about me, huh?”

before you could even process a retort, sunoo moved. he stepped closer, his easy grin never wavering. instinctively, you leaned back, only for your spine to hit the counter behind you. the realization that you were cornered sent your heart into overdrive.

“w-what are you doing?” you stammered, your eyes darting up to meet his.

he was close now, too close. his arm came up, his hand braced against the counter next to your head, the air around you enveloping you in his mouthwatering scent of vanilla and coconut. his other hand still held the mug, but that didn’t stop your thoughts from spiraling. the way he leaned over you, his face mere inches from yours—it made your breath hitch. for one wild, utterly ridiculous moment, you thought he was about to kiss you(again?).

but then, with a smooth, almost nonchalant motion, he reached past you and grabbed a washcloth from the counter behind your shoulder.

“got it!” he announced cheerfully, pulling back and holding up the cloth like it was a prize.

you blinked, stunned into silence as your brain scrambled to catch up with reality.

sunoo tilted his head, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “what? did you think i was gonna—” he paused, letting the suggestion hang in the air, a devilish smirk tugging at his lips.

“no!” you snapped, your voice cracking as you shoved past him to put space between you. “as if!”

his laugh was light, melodic, and thoroughly maddening as he turned back to the mugs, completely unbothered.

you busied yourself with refilling the napkin dispensers, determined to ignore the way your heart was still racing. yet as much as you wanted to brush the whole thing off, you couldn’t help the small, traitorous smile tugging at your lips. and you hated that somewhere in the back of your mind, you wondered if sunoo had caught it.

later that evening, you found yourself at the door, keys in hand, ready to lock up. the café was quiet, the streets outside eerily calm. the cold had settled in deeper now, a biting wind nipping at your fingers even through your gloves.

as you pulled the door shut and turned the key in the lock, a figure caught your eye. sunoo was leaning casually against the lamppost just outside, his breath visible in small puffs of condensation.

“what are you still doing here?” you asked, wrapping your arms around yourself to stave off the chill.

he straightened, brushing some snow off his coat. “wanted to make sure you got home safe,” he said simply, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

you froze for a moment, caught completely off guard. “you didn’t have to do that,” you said, though your voice was softer than usual, your usual bite missing.

“i know,” he replied with a shrug, his tone light, almost nonchalant. “but i wanted to.”

the words hung in the air between you, heavier than they should have been. his sincerity was disarming, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him. the light from the streetlamp cast a faint golden glow on his face, catching the warmth in his eyes and the faint pink dusting his cheeks from the cold.

your chest tightened, the realization of how kind he was settling in. it wasn’t a grand gesture, but it felt significant. genuine.

you wondered if he could hear the pounding of your heart in the quiet night, loud and insistent as it was.

“thanks,” you mumbled after a beat, unable to meet his gaze for too long.

he smiled at you, soft and easy. “anytime.”

as you both started walking toward your respective homes, you couldn’t help but glance at him out of the corner of your eye. there was something about sunoo that you couldn’t quite put your finger on—a warmth that you hadn’t noticed before but suddenly seemed impossible to ignore.

the nightly walks home had become a routine you hadn’t quite agreed to but couldn’t seem to stop either. sunoo, had decided somewhere along the line that you needed a chaperone to make it home safely through the wintry streets. you’d grumbled about it at first, muttering under your breath about his unnecessary chivalry, but over time, you’d grown to expect the sight of him waiting outside the café after closing.

of course, you hadn’t told him that. no, you preferred to keep up your facade of mild annoyance, pretending not to notice how his presence made the cold nights feel a little less lonely.

sunoo, naturally, was undeterred by your grumpiness. if anything, it seemed to fuel his determination to get you into the holiday spirit. one evening, as he walked beside you, humming yet another cheerful christmas tune, he turned to you with a sudden burst of excitement.

“y/n, i just had the best idea!”

you glanced at him warily, already regretting whatever was about to come out of his mouth. “do i even want to know?”

“yes, you do!” he insisted, his grin as bright as the fairy lights strung across the street. “i’m going to teach you my famous christmas cookie recipe!”

you stopped in your tracks, giving him an incredulous look. “your famous christmas cookie recipe? who exactly considers it famous?”

“everyone who’s ever tasted them,” he replied, puffing out his chest dramatically. “they’re a holiday masterpiece.”

you couldn’t stop the amused huff that escaped you, though you quickly masked it with a roll of your eyes. “and why, exactly, do i need to learn this ‘masterpiece’ recipe?”

“because,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, “you need some christmas cheer in your life, and nothing says cheer like baking cookies with me.”

you groaned, already feeling your resolve weakening under his hopeful gaze. “fine,” you muttered, trying to sound begrudging. “but only because i’m curious if they’re actually as good as you claim.”

his cheer was instantaneous. “you won’t regret it!”

the next day, sunoo dragged you to the grocery store and. you trailed behind him, half-heartedly protesting whenever he added something to the cart that wasn’t on the list.

“you’re buying way too much butter,” you pointed out as he tossed another block into the cart.

“you can never have too much butter when it comes to cookies,” he said with a sage nod.

he practically bounced beside you, a walking ball of excitement, clutching a carefully curated shopping list for his "famous" christmas cookies.

“y/n, we need to decide on the chocolate chips,” he said, holding up two bags like they were precious artifacts. “semi-sweet or dark? this is critical.”

you shrugged nonchalantly, feigning disinterest. “it’s your recipe, gordon ramsay. pick whatever.”

he pouted dramatically, clutching his chest. “gordon ramsay? that’s a little harsh. i’m more of a... what’s the name of that really cheerful baker on tv? you know, the one who smiles a lot?”

“sounds like your spirit animal,” you muttered under your breath, though a faint smirk tugged at your lips.

while he deliberated between chocolate options with the intensity of someone defusing a bomb, you wandered off to grab some sugar. as you made your way back toward the cart, a voice called your name.

“y/n? is that really you?”

you turned to find yourself face-to-face with an old high school friend. their warm smile was familiar, even if their fashion choices now had taken a complete 180.

“oh my god, it’s been forever!” they said, pulling you into a quick hug. “how have you been?”

you exchanged pleasantries, updating each other on work and uni life. it was nice, catching up after so long, until their eyes flicked past you.

“wait, who’s that?” they asked, nodding toward sunoo, who was now examining a bottle of vanilla extract like it held the secrets of the universe.

“oh, him?” you said casually, glancing over your shoulder. “that’s just sunoo.”

they raised an eyebrow, their smirk teasing. “just sunoo? he looks like he’s your boyfriend or something.”

“what? no, no,” you said quickly, a little too loudly. “sunoo’s not my boyfriend. god, no. he’s just my coworker. we work at my mom’s café. that’s all.”

your friend gave you a knowing look, the kind that made your cheeks heat. “coworker, huh? he’s got major boyfriend energy. seems sweet.”

“sweet?” you scoffed, crossing your arms. “he’s more like a hyperactive puppy. always smiling, always humming, always doing something. it’s exhausting.”

your friend chuckled, clearly enjoying your exasperation.

“and don’t even get me started on his christmas obsession,” you continued, rolling your eyes for effect. “he’s like a walking hallmark movie. i swear, if he could marry a christmas tree, he’d probably do it and throw a wedding with carolers.”

your friend burst out laughing, egging you on. “does he sing christmas songs all the time too?”

“constantly,” you replied with mock suffering. “if i hear ‘jingle bells’ one more time, i’m going to lose it. it’s like he’s got a jukebox in his head that’s stuck on holiday mode.”

the two of you laughed, exchanging more exaggerated and judgmental quips about sunoo’s overly cheerful demeanor. but then, as your laughter faded, you caught sight of something—or rather, someone—out of the corner of your eye.

sunoo was standing there, a bag of flour in one arm and a bottle of vanilla extract in the other. his bright smile, the one you’d always teased him for, was gone. in its place was an expression you’d never seen on him before—hurt, raw and unguarded.

“sunoo,” you started, your voice weak and unsure.

he blinked, his eyes darting between you and your friend, as though piecing together everything he’d just overheard. then, without a word, he turned on his heel and walked away, his steps brisk and unsteady.

“wait, sunoo—” you took a step toward him, but he didn’t stop, his figure disappearing around the corner.

your friend shifted awkwardly beside you. “uh... i think i’ll let you handle that. good luck.” they offered an apologetic smile before retreating, leaving you alone with your racing thoughts.

the guilt hit you like a freight train. you replayed every word you’d said, each one now twisting like a knife. you hadn’t meant to be cruel, not really, but hearing it all in retrospect made you wince.

you stood there in the middle of the aisle, the festive chaos of the store blurring around you, and all you could think about was the devastated look on sunoo’s face. for someone who always wore his heart on his sleeve, you’d just managed to break it without even trying.

and now, you had no idea how to fix it.

the café felt colder than usual, and it had nothing to do with the weather. sunoo, the walking ray of sunshine who once filled every corner with warmth and holiday cheer, had dimmed entirely. it started the day after the grocery store incident. he no longer greeted you with his annoyingly bright smile or playfully nudged you when you were grumbling about the customers. instead, he was polite—frigidly so.

“good morning,” you said tentatively as you walked in for your shift.

“morning,” he replied without looking up from the espresso machine, his tone flat.

no teasing. no humming. not even a sarcastic remark about you being late again. just a curt acknowledgment, followed by silence.

you couldn’t deny it—it stung. you thought back to the way he used to coax reluctant smiles from customers, how he would hum festive tunes so loudly you’d complain, and how his energy made the café feel like a holiday movie set. now, he did his job mechanically, avoiding unnecessary conversation with you and barely engaging with anyone else.

the decorations he had painstakingly hung felt like they belonged to a different world. they no longer carried the magic they once did.

at first, you told yourself this was what you wanted—a quiet, sunoo-free workspace where you could brood in peace. but it wasn’t peace you felt. it was guilt. crushing, suffocating guilt.

even though sunoo seemed hellbent on giving you the cold shoulder, he still made sure you reached home safely. your evening walks were not the same anymore, with him trailing a few metres behind you instead of him usually sticking right to your side. you couldn’t help but feel even worse. even after you had been inconsiderate about his feelings, he still cared.

one day, during a rare lull, you approached him, the desire to fix things clawing at your chest. you were generally awkward with apologies but you had to try your best. he was wiping down the counter with that same forced nonchalance, eyes focused on the towel, not sparing you even a glance.

“sunoo,” you started, your voice small, breaking the silence between you. “i… i wanted to say sorry about what happened. i didn’t mean—”

“it’s fine,” he interrupted, finally looking up with an expression that was almost unreadable. “don’t worry about it.”

but you could tell it wasn’t fine. it wasn’t fine at all. the tension in his jaw, the lack of the usual warmth in his eyes—it was all proof that you had hurt him more than you realised.

that afternoon, a customer—a girl around your age—came in and ordered a latte. she was attractive, dressed in trendy winter clothes, her hair a perfect cascade of curls despite the weather. you barely registered her order, too preoccupied with the way sunoo’s demeanor had shifted as soon as she walked up. he leaned over the counter with a smile that was just a touch more dazzling than usual, his eyes bright with that cheerful, carefree light you hadn’t seen in days.

“oh, you’re so good at making latte art!” she said with a little laugh, eyes wide as she watched him.

sunoo chuckled, a sound that came so easily, so naturally, it made something sour twist in your stomach. “thanks. i’ve had a lot of practice. what’s your favorite design?”

“oh, anything cute! maybe a heart?”

you clenched your jaw. the way he laughed, the way he looked at her, it was like the last few days had never happened. he was back to being the sunoo who had brightened every corner of the café, the same sunoo you’d ignored and pushed away. a storm of irritation and something deeper bubbled inside you.

you couldn’t help yourself. marching over, you interrupted their conversation, “sunoo, the tables need wiping. i’ll finish this order,” you said, your voice sharper than intended.

he looked at you, his smile fading as quickly as it had come. for a moment, you thought he might argue, but instead, he stepped back and handed you the steaming cup. “sure,” he said quietly, walking away without another word.

the customer looked at you, slightly startled, but you avoided her gaze, focusing on finishing the latte art. your hand trembled slightly as you poured the milk, frustrated at yourself for the way your emotions had spiraled out of control.

this wasn’t like you. you weren’t the type to get jealous, especially not over someone like sunoo, who you’d spent weeks convincing yourself was nothing more than a coworker.

the silence that followed felt deafening, and the rest of the shift passed in a haze. every time you looked at him, he looked away. every time you spoke to him, he responded with clipped, polite words, his voice void of warmth. he was now a shadow of the sunoo you had known, and it was your fault.

and the worst part? you missed it. you missed him.

every day, the weight of your guilt grew heavier, and with it, the realization that you hadn’t just been cruel—you’d hurt someone who had only ever tried to brighten your world.

you wanted to fix things, but you didn’t know how. every attempt to reach out was met with silence, and every smile he gave someone else felt like another nail in the coffin of what you had ruined.

the festive tunes in the café continued to play, but now, they felt hollow, much like the ache in your chest.

that night, you lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, the ache of regret clawing at your chest. the guilt was like an icy chain around your ribs, squeezing tighter with every passing minute. you could still picture the smile he had given the girl, so carefree, so genuine, and the way he had walked away from you, a hint of defeat in his posture.

the next day, he was back to avoiding you, treating you like a stranger he’d once known. you watched, helpless, as he poured that same energy into talking to customers, chatting with people as if he hadn’t lost himself in the process. it hurt more than you thought it could.

the coldness extended past the café. sunoo’s laughter seemed to be reserved for everyone but you, and you watched as the cheerful light he carried dimmed even further. it made you wonder if you had lost something you didn’t even know you wanted.

the day had been relentless. the café buzzed from the early hours with orders flying in and customers bustling through, each interaction adding another layer to your growing frustration. by mid-afternoon, you were running on fumes, barely holding it together as the weight of responsibility pressed down on you.

it wasn’t just today. it had been like this for weeks. ever since your mom insisted you stay back during winter break to help with the café, it felt like you’d been drowning in expectations. and somehow, the family seemed perfectly content to let you struggle.

you caught sight of your younger siblings in the corner booth, lounging with their phones in hand, sharing quiet laughs. the image stung. while you juggled orders, cleaned counters, and played the perfect hostess, they enjoyed carefree moments, untouched by the demands that seemed to fall squarely on your shoulders.

by the time you escaped to the back room, your patience was hanging by a thread. you slammed a tray of used mugs onto the counter harder than you meant to, and the sharp clang echoed in the small space.

“do you have to make such a racket?” your mom’s voice came from behind you. she stepped into the room, her hands busy with a clipboard, completely unfazed by your obvious distress.

your control snapped. “maybe if someone else around here actually helped me, i wouldn’t have to,” you retorted, spinning around to face her.

she paused, her eyes narrowing. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“it means i’m exhausted, mom,” you shot back, the words tumbling out in a rush. “i’m doing everything—running the counter, cleaning up, dealing with customers—and for what? so everyone else can just sit back and relax?”

“don’t be dramatic,” she said, her tone clipped. “i’ve been working just as much as you.”

you let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “are you serious right now? i haven’t seen you take a single order all day. and don’t even get me started on them,” you gestured toward the café, where your siblings were still parked, oblivious to the world around them. “they get to sit around doing nothing while i’m running myself into the ground.”

“they’re younger,” your mom said flatly. “you’re the oldest. you should know better by now.”

the words cut deep, sharper than you expected. “so what? that means i don’t get to have a life? i don’t get to enjoy a break like everyone else?” your voice wavered, anger and hurt intertwining. “you expect me to just give and give, and no one cares about what i need.”

“stop being so ungrateful and selfish all the time,” she snapped, her eyes hardening. “this is your family. you do what’s necessary.”

her words hit like a physical blow, and you staggered back a step, the air knocked out of you. selfish? after everything you’d done? 

she didn’t wait for a response, brushing past you and leaving the room without a backward glance.

the silence that followed was suffocating. you stood frozen, your chest heaving as the tears burned behind your eyes. you tried to fight them, but the weight of her words, of everything, was too much.

your legs gave out, and you sank to the cold floor, pulling your knees to your chest as the first sob broke free. it came in waves, uncontrollable and raw, until you buried your face in your arms, muffling the sound.

you weren’t sure how long you stayed like that. time seemed to blur, your thoughts spiraling in the same vicious cycle of frustration and hurt. the ache in your chest felt unbearable, like a storm raging inside with no signs of clearing.

then, faintly, you heard footsteps. they stopped near you, hesitating, before a familiar voice called softly, “y/n?”

you didn’t look up. you couldn’t. but then you felt it—a warm, steady hand on your shoulder, grounding you in a way you didn’t realize you needed.

when you finally lifted your head, your tear-filled eyes met sunoo’s. his usual brightness was dimmed, replaced with an expression so soft and concerned that it made your chest tighten all over again.

he didn’t say anything at first, just crouched down beside you. then, without a word, he pulled you into his arms. the action was gentle, almost hesitant, but as soon as you felt the warmth of his embrace, you broke all over again.

your fingers clutched at the fabric of his shirt, desperate for something solid as the tears came harder. “i’m so tired,” you whispered against his chest, your voice cracking.

“i know,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “i know.”

his hand moved to your back, rubbing slow circles that seemed to ease the ache just a little. he smelled his signature scent of vanilla and coconut, a scent so comforting it made you lean into him further, seeking out the solace he offered.

sunoo didn’t let go. not when your tears soaked into his shirt, not when your breath hitched as you tried to form words between sobs. he stayed there, holding you, his warmth anchoring you in a way you hadn’t realized you craved.

eventually, the tears slowed, leaving you shuddering against him. he didn’t rush you or ask questions, just kept his hand moving in those soothing circles on your back, his presence steady and unwavering. it was only when your breathing evened out that he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper.

“do you want to talk about it?”

for a moment, you hesitated. but then, the weight of everything—the years of bottled-up frustration, resentment, and heartache—came spilling out.

“it’s just… it’s so much,” you began, your voice hoarse from crying. “being the oldest, it’s like… it’s like my life stopped being mine the moment dad left.”

sunoo’s hand stilled for a second, then resumed its comforting rhythm, encouraging you to continue.

you sniffled, swiping at your damp cheeks. “he just—he ran off with some rich woman when i was sixteen, like we didn’t matter to him at all. mom was devastated, and suddenly, it felt like i had to grow up overnight. taking care of my siblings, helping with the café, picking up the pieces he left behind…” your voice cracked, and you bit your lip, trying to hold it together.

“and now it’s like nothing’s changed,” you went on, your words tumbling out faster. “mom still leans on me for everything. the café, the house, the family—it’s always me. i can’t even remember the last time i did something just for myself.”

sunoo didn’t interrupt, didn’t try to fill the silence with empty reassurances. he just listened, his gaze fixed on you with such unwavering focus that it made your chest ache in a different way.

“and today—today was just the last straw,” you admitted, wiping at your nose with the back of your hand. “i feel like i’m suffocating, sunoo. like no matter how much i give, it’s never enough. and it’s so… so lonely.”

you looked away, ashamed of your outburst, but his arms tightened around you. “you’re not alone,” he said softly, his voice steady. “not anymore.”

that simple promise unraveled something inside you, and before you could stop yourself, you blurted out, “and i’m sorry. for everything. for being so mean to you, for judging you when i didn’t even know you, for acting like a total brat.”

sunoo blinked, his expression softening even further, but you didn’t let him speak yet. “i know i’ve been awful,” you continued, your words spilling over each other in a frantic rush. “and you’ve been nothing but kind, and here i am, all snotty and messy and—”

“y/n,” he interrupted gently, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“and i probably look terrible right now,” you rambled on, ignoring his soft chuckle. “like, who wants to deal with this?” you gestured vaguely to your tear-streaked face and disheveled appearance.

“y/n,” he said again, a little firmer this time, his hand brushing against your cheek.

you froze, finally meeting his eyes. they were impossibly warm, filled with something you couldn’t quite name but that made your breath catch all the same.

“you’re perfect,” he said simply, his thumb gently wiping away a stray tear.

and then, before you could process his words, he leaned in and kissed you.

it was soft at first, hesitant, like he was giving you a chance to pull away. but when you didn’t—when you found yourself leaning into him instead—it deepened, his lips moving against yours with a warmth that chased away every lingering shadow of doubt and hurt.

you melted into him, your hands clutching the front of his shirt as if he were the only solid thing in a world that had felt so unsteady. the kiss was everything you didn’t know you needed—comforting, electrifying, and completely disarming all at once.

when he finally pulled back, his forehead rested lightly against yours, his breath mingling with your own in the quiet of the room.

“i’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” he admitted, a shy smile tugging at his lips.

you stared at him, still dazed, your fingers brushing your lips as if trying to hold onto the feeling. “you… you kissed me,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“i did,” he said, his smile growing. “and if i had known it would shut you up, i might’ve done it sooner.”

a laugh bubbled up in your chest despite yourself, and for the first time in what felt like forever, the heaviness inside you lifted.

“i don’t think i deserve you, sunoo,” you said softly, your gaze dropping to the floor.

he tilted your chin up gently, his expression earnest. “then it’s a good thing i get to decide that, isn’t it?”

and just like that, with sunoo’s arms still wrapped around you and the lingering warmth of his kiss, it felt like everything had finally fallen into place.

the next morning, you found yourself standing outside the café, shivering in the early chill. snow blanketed the ground, sparkling under the soft glow of the streetlights. the café wasn’t open yet, and you were earlier than usual, clutching a small box in your hands. the carefully wrapped gift felt heavier than it should, the weight of nerves pressing down on you.

inside the box was a collection of little things that reminded you of sunoo: a cheerful snowman mug, a candle that smelled like warm sugar cookies, and a pair of bright green fuzzy mittens. they weren’t much, but they were chosen with care—a way to apologise properly, to show him you understood now just how much he meant to you.

the quiet street stretched around you, peaceful but lonely. you rocked back and forth on your heels, trying to shake off the morning cold and the knot of anxiety twisting in your stomach. what if he didn’t accept the gift? what if he was still upset?

before you could spiral further, you heard footsteps crunching in the snow. turning, you saw him walking toward you, his breath visible in the frosty air. he wasn’t wearing his usual bright smile, but the sight of him was enough to make your chest ache.

“y/n?” he called out, stopping a few steps away. “what are you doing here so early?”

“i, uh…” you hesitated, holding the box tighter. “i wanted to see you.”

his eyebrows lifted slightly in surprise. “really?”

wordlessly, you held the gift out to him, your breath hitching as he stared at it. slowly, he reached out and took it, his fingers brushing yours.

“what’s this?” he asked, his tone soft.

“an apology,” you said, your voice quieter than you intended. “for everything. for being mean to you, for not appreciating you sooner, for—just open it.”

sunoo glanced at you, then down at the box. he tugged the ribbon loose and carefully peeled back the paper, his movements deliberate. when he saw the contents, his expression shifted, his eyes widening as a genuine smile began to spread across his face.

“you got me mittens?” he exclaimed, holding them up like they were a treasure. “and this mug—it’s so cute! and a candle?” he brought it to his nose and sniffed, his grin widening even more. “it smells amazing!”

the brightness in his reaction melted the last of your nerves, a smile tugging at your lips despite yourself.

“i thought they’d suit you,” you said quietly, feeling a little silly now but also oddly proud.

“suit me?” he repeated, his tone playful. “y/n, this is the most thoughtful gift anyone’s given me in a long time.”

before you could react, he closed the distance between you in one swift motion.

“wait—sunoo!”

but he didn’t wait. he scooped you up effortlessly, spinning you around in the snow. the world blurred for a moment, the sound of your surprised laugh ringing out as he twirled you like you weighed nothing at all.

“put me down!” you cried, though your laughter betrayed any real protest.

“not until you promise you’ll stop being so hard on yourself,” he said, his voice full of warmth and mischief.

“okay, okay! i promise!”

he set you down at last, but your balance wavered, and the two of you tumbled into the snow together, a heap of giggles and cold breaths.

“you’re impossible,” you muttered, brushing snow off your coat.

“impossible to stay mad at, right?” he teased, propping himself up on one elbow beside you. his grin was as dazzling as ever, and it was contagious.

you rolled your eyes, but your heart felt lighter than it had in days. “yeah, yeah. don’t let it go to your head, sunoo.”

“too late,” he quipped, tossing a handful of snow at you.

what followed was an impromptu snowball fight that left both of you breathless, your cheeks pink from the cold and the laughter. by the time the café was ready to open, you’d built a lopsided snowman and shared stories over hot cocoa.

as you sat across from him, watching the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, you realized something else had thawed—your carefully guarded heart. sunoo had done more than bring holiday cheer into your life; he’d brought a warmth you hadn’t known you were missing.

over the next few days, things between you and sunoo took on a rhythm you hadn’t expected. there was no big moment when it all changed, no grand confessions. it just sort of happened. in the middle of the busy café, amidst the noise of espresso machines and the chatter of customers, the two of you found your own little world, filled with unspoken understanding and a quiet kind of comfort.

despite your shy nature, sunoo was anything but reserved. he was touchy, cuddly, and so unapologetically confident in his affection that it left you flustered at least twice an hour.

one morning, you were at the counter, meticulously preparing an intricate coffee order for a regular. concentrating on the froth, you didn’t even hear him approach.

suddenly, his arms slipped around your waist, pulling you into his chest. the warmth of his body against your back startled you, and you nearly dropped the milk frother.

“good morning to you, too,” he murmured softly near your ear, his voice low and teasing.

“sunoo,” you hissed, your cheeks burning as you glanced around the café. thankfully, it was mostly empty, save for the regular who seemed too engrossed in their phone to notice. “what are you doing?”

“giving my girlfriend some love,” he said matter-of-factly, resting his chin on your shoulder. his hold on you was secure but gentle, and you couldn’t ignore how solid he felt.

your brain scrambled as you became hyper-aware of every point of contact—the way his hands fit around your waist, the way his sweater couldn’t completely hide the firmness of his chest and arms.

you tried to maintain your composure, focusing on pouring the steamed milk into the cup. “you’re distracting me,” you mumbled, your voice shakier than you’d intended.

“oh?” his tone was pure mischief now, and you could practically hear the grin on his face. “didn’t know i had that kind of effect on you, y/n.”

“stop,” you groaned, half-horrified and half-flustered, trying to wriggle free from his hold.

but he just tightened his arms slightly, chuckling. “not a chance. you’re cute when you’re flustered.”

your heart pounded in your chest as you finished the order, sunoo still clinging to you like a human koala. when you finally handed the coffee to the customer, you turned to him with an exasperated glare.

“happy now?” you said, trying to sound annoyed but failing miserably.

“very,” he replied, his bright smile disarming you completely.

moments like these became a regular occurrence. sunoo had no concept of personal space, especially when it came to you, and he seemed to revel in how easily he could fluster you. whether it was sneaking up behind you to steal a kiss on your cheek while you were stocking shelves, lacing your fingers together under the table during your lunch break, or leaning in close just to whisper something playful and teasing—he was unabashedly, wholeheartedly himself.

at first, you didn’t know how to handle it. the warmth of his attention made you feel vulnerable, exposed in a way you hadn’t expected. but it also made you feel… cherished, like you were the only person in his world.

one afternoon, you were wiping down tables when he plopped down in a chair nearby, resting his chin in his hands as he watched you.

“what are you staring at now?” you asked, glancing at him over your shoulder.

“my beautiful girlfriend,” he said with a grin so sincere it made your chest ache.

you rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your face. “you’re impossible.”

“and yet, you’re still with me.”

despite your best efforts to stay composed, sunoo always managed to draw out the softer, shyer side of you. and though it terrified you to be so open, so seen, it also filled you with a kind of warmth you’d never known before—like stepping into the sunlight after a long winter.

the warm light of sunoo’s home bathed the living room in a soft glow, creating a sense of comfort that seemed almost too perfect. the scent of cinnamon and roasted vegetables filled the air, mingling with the gentle hum of christmas carols playing in the background. laughter and the sound of clinking glasses bubbled up around you, and it was hard to believe you were even there, in this place that felt so full of warmth and life.

sunoo had invited you and your mother to an early christmas dinner at his house a few days ago. you had come alone, expecting your mom to stay home after the fight you’d had earlier that week. she’d been sharp with her words, and you’d spent the past few days wrapped in the solitude of your thoughts, wondering if things would ever be the same between you two. but now, as you glanced around at the smiling faces, the feel of this home settled into your chest in a way that was almost foreign, yet achingly familiar.

sunoo’s family, full of kindness and easygoing laughter, was everything that you’d never had. being the youngest child had given sunoo a softness that showed in everything he did—the way he laughed too loudly, the way he clapped his hands when he was excited, the way he instinctively reached for your hand when he wanted to share a joke. it was clear that love had been poured into him without question, without the burden of responsibility or guilt.

the warmth of that realisation grew inside you as dinner was served. sunoo’s father sat at the head of the table, telling stories that made everyone chuckle, while his mother bustled around, her hands full of serving spoons and platters. the room was a symphony of family, love, and shared history. it made you long for that kind of life, for that kind of belonging.

just as you were helping pass a dish of mashed potatoes, the doorbell chimed. sunoo, who had been sitting next to you, turned to look at you with a smile. “can you get that, y/n?”

you nodded, a little confused, and stood up, making your way to the front door. when you opened it, your eyes widened in surprise. there, standing in the cool night air with a basket of homemade goodies balanced in her arms, was your mom.

“mom?” you said, voice catching. she looked as surprised to see you as you were to see her, eyes wide and a little uncertain. but then she took a deep breath, stepping into the house with an air of resolve.

“hello, y/n,” she said, offering a soft smile that reached her eyes. she turned to the room beyond, where sunoo’s family was looking at her with curiosity. “merry christmas, everyone,” she said warmly, her voice more steady than you’d expected.

sunoo’s mother, surprised at the unexpected guest, beamed as she ushered her in. “merry christmas! we’re so glad you came.”

you stood there, feeling a flutter of hope. your mom walked past you, her eyes meeting yours for a brief moment as if to say, can we talk? you nodded, your heart pounding as she led you away from the bustling room.

she took you to a corner by the window, where the soft light from outside fell on both of you, mingling with the glow of the christmas tree. for a moment, neither of you spoke. you heard the sounds of laughter in the other room—the clinking of glasses, sunoo’s voice as he said something that made everyone laugh.

finally, your mom broke the silence. “y/n, i’ve been thinking a lot about us, and how i’ve let you down. when your dad left, i was lost, and i leaned on you for strength when you were just a kid yourself. i didn’t see how it affected you; i only saw my own pain. i’m so sorry for making you feel like you had to carry everything alone.”

her voice cracked, and she reached out, pulling you into a hug. you let yourself melt into her embrace, the weight of years of resentment and unspoken words finally falling away. a tear escaped, then another, as you let yourself feel everything you hadn’t allowed yourself to before—the hurt, the longing, and the relief.

“i’m sorry too, mom,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “i didn’t know how to say it, but i needed you to know i was scared. i was so scared of turning out like… like everything i didn’t want.”

she pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes glistening. “you’re not like that, y/n. you’re everything i could have hoped for, and more. i love you.”

“i love you too,” you said, your voice finally steady, the words feeling right and true. the basket of treats she’d brought had slipped from her grasp, forgotten as you both shared this moment that seemed to heal everything at once.

there was a noise from behind you—a soft cough. sunoo stood at the end of the hallway, a warm smile on his face. his eyes met yours and then shifted to your mom, who was still holding you close.

“everything okay?” he asked, voice soft.

you nodded, a tiny smile breaking through your tears. “yeah, everything’s perfect.”

sunoo stepped forward, pulling you into a hug that felt like the last piece of the puzzle falling into place. it felt like everything was right, and the past had been forgiven, making way for something better.

as the sound of laughter swelled behind you, you knew that this was a new beginning. and in that moment, you felt loved, not just by sunoo but by the family you had always dreamed of, and by the one that was learning to be there for you, piece by piece.

BONUS SCENE!

it’s christmas morning, and for once, the café is closed. you wake up to a rare, quiet morning, the kind that feels like it could stretch on forever. snow blankets the world outside, muffling every sound and adding a serene glow to the sky.

just as you’re about to head downstairs, you hear the faint sound of shuffling outside your front door. curiosity piqued, you open it to find a very familiar figure standing there, bundled up in a bright scarf and holding a giant thermos. sunoo grins up at you, cheeks pink from the cold, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“merry christmas!” he chirps, holding up the thermos. 

you stare at him, confused but already smiling. “sunoo, what are you doing here? shouldn’t you be with your family?”

he shrugs, his grin never faltering. “already had breakfast with them. besides, i wanted to see you.”

your heart does a little flip at his words, and before you can respond, he’s nudging past you, making his way into the living room like he’s lived here his whole life.

“wait,” you say, following him. “what’s in the thermos?”

“patience,” he says, wagging a finger at you. he sets the thermos down on the coffee table, pulling out two mugs he somehow managed to balance in his coat pocket. “sit.”

you reluctantly sink into the couch, watching as he pours steaming hot chocolate into both mugs. he even pulls out a tiny bag of marshmallows, which makes you laugh. “you’re ridiculous,” you mutter.

“and you love it,” he retorts, passing you a mug before plopping down next to you, so close that your knees bump.

the two of you sit in comfortable silence for a while, sipping the hot chocolate as the snow falls outside. you catch yourself stealing glances at him—at the way his lashes frame his eyes, the way his nose scrunches up when he takes a particularly hot sip.

as you’re lost in thought, sunoo suddenly turns to you, catching you mid-stare. “what?” he asks, his tone playful but soft.

“nothing,” you say quickly, your cheeks warming.

he leans closer, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “were you admiring me?”

“don’t flatter yourself,” you say, but the smile tugging at your lips betrays you.

sunoo laughs, setting his mug down before reaching out to tug the edge of the blanket draped over your shoulders. “come here,” he says, pulling you closer until you’re tucked against his side.

“you’re so bossy,” you mumble, but you don’t resist, letting your head rest on his shoulder.

“only for you,” he replies, pressing a light kiss to your hair.

you look up at him, something warm and fluttery building in your chest. his gaze drops to your lips for just a second, and your breath catches. before you can overthink it, sunoo leans in, brushing his lips against yours in a kiss so sweet and gentle it feels like a snowflake melting on your skin.

when he pulls back, his eyes search yours, a soft smile spreading across his face. “merry christmas, y/n,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

“merry christmas,” you reply, your voice shaky but your heart steady.

he grins and presses his forehead to yours, his fingers playing with the hem of the blanket. “so, do i get a thank you for the hot chocolate and the kiss, or…?”

you laugh, swatting his arm lightly. “don’t push your luck.”

but when he leans back and pulls you closer, you know you wouldn’t have it any other way.

𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 ©𝗴𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗯𝗲𝗿𝗿𝘆𝘆 on Tumblr

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perm taglist: @soobnuuy @senascoooop @moafloribunda @lunalovesstories

@firstclassjaylee @levandright @fancypeacepersona @mirouie

@gaonashi @firstclassjaylee @kkamismom12

[anyalovesu]

𝓗ome race winner

 Ferrari f1driver!jake x fem!writer!reader

—wherein your f1 driver boyfriend accidentally exposes your private relationship after he wins his first home grand prix. (or… jake is so whipped he forgot that he wasn’t supposed to reveal to everyone and their mom that you were more than friends)

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

genre : fluff ( slightly suggestive ending lmao )

pairings : jake x fem!reader

wc : 4.7k+ words

cw :

☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ oc is mentioned ( yunhee )

☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ non-idol!au ; ferrari f1 driver!jake , writer!reader

☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ jake is smitted as fuck and his friends can't say anything about it

☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ riki and the reader are siblings!

☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ ( ft. beomgyu from txt ; keeho from p1h ; heeseung and riki from en- )

☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ featured idols are mentioned to have wags who are fem or fem-bodied

☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ not proofread ( yet )

song : the alchemy - taylor swift ( the tortured poets department , 2024 )

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

You sit quietly in your hotel bed typing away on your laptop, trying to make as much progress in your book as you could before the weekend becomes too hectic for you and Jake as he prepares to drive for his home race. Jake has been constantly getting podium wins, scoring just enough points for him to be a good competitor for the WDC this season. While Jake generally does keep an optimistic aura around him whenever he does or does not win, you knew that not being to bag this race for his team would greatly disappoint him, considering that if does win his home race, he would have enough points to surpass the Choi Beomgyu, who is currently at the top spot of the driver’s championship.

You frequently went to Jake’s races, you usually came with some of your common friends from your highschool, which then successfully hid from the media the fact that you two have been dating for the past 4 years, before he even debuted in Formula 1. It wasn’t like you guys were keeping it a secret, if you weren’t such an introvert with crippling anxiety, you would’ve gone on your own and everyone would’ve figured it out right off the bat that you and Jake were together. However, with the frequent presence of yours and Jake’s best friends, Sunoo and Jay, and sometimes your own brother, Riki, whom Jake has been close with ever since, everyone just assumed you were his best friend as well.

Honestly, some fans have speculated it already that some were just in denial of the fact that Jake was in a relationship that’s why they chose to just assume that you guys were just best friends—after all, despite the popularity that Jake has been gaining since his F1 debut 2 years ago, no one ever confirmed that you were together. Even your friends have done a great job keeping hush about it as for both your and Jake’s request in order to preserve the peace that your relationship had from being away from the media’s knowledge. After all, romance is not dead if you keep it just yours, right?

“Bubs, what time do you think you’ll be done writing?” Jake hums, walking over to you, Layla following him behind, who seemed to be still relentlessly excited since being home the past 2 days. She’s dealt with the jetlag better than you ever will because that woman slept through the entire day and woke up the next morning feeling more energetic than ever after the excruciating 16-hour private flight you had to get into with his teammate, Heeseung, and his partner along with some members of their media team. “The other guys have been wanting to hit the beach before media day tomorrow, do you want to come?”

“Just a few more lines and I’ll be good for the day I think,” you reply to him as he sits on the empty side of the bed next to you and glances at the screen in front of you. “What do you think about it?”

“I think your brain is beautiful and everything it writes is written with pink glitter gel pen,” he chuckles, before turning to give you a kiss. “You have such a beautiful mind, bubba.”

In perspective, no one actually expected that you and Jake would be dating. If it weren’t for that fortunate/unfortunate day that your boarding school’s publication assigned your last project with them to be an interview with Jake just when Jake got promoted to Formula 2, you two wouldn’t have met. You still have very mixed feelings about that day because you have always been shy and messaging a rising Formula 2 star for an interview was definitely beyond your limits of comfort—you can bet your bottom dollar that you had a panic attack before that interview because you’ve always been used to the behind-the-scenes productions of your publications. Let’s just say Jake never left you alone after that. 

He’s always been so enamored by the way you think and how gentle words come out of your mouth whenever you speak. He often wondered how much time it took whoever god out there that made you to delicately craft how your mind worked, how your intentions would come to be and how you would act upon it. Jake couldn’t fathom how beautiful you were on the inside and your pretty face was only the cherry on top of all of it. He was certain that even if he was interviewed with his eyes closed, he still would’ve fallen in love with you.

Smitten idiot, Heeseung would always call him.

“I’ve been stuck on this for days now,” you rolled your eyes at him, playfully pushing his face away before huffing in frustration. Your first book did so well two years ago, it came along the same time Jake was promoted to Formula 1, which then gave you both insurmountable pride and joy that you both were doing so well in your careers. “At this rate, I wouldn’t be able to finish this on my target date.”

“Then aim for the next target date,” he chuckled. “Baby. You always say, if I don’t win WDC this year, maybe it’s still too early or maybe the next one will be it. If you don’t finish this on the deadline, maybe your deadline is too early or maybe the next target date will be your actual deadline.”

“How dare you quote me against myself,” you pouted at him, moving your laptop from your lap to the bedside table before climbing up to his lap to look at him. “I taught you better than that.”

“Hmm,” he hummed, grinning so widely as he admired the way your eyes twinkled in the warm Melbourne sun shining through the glass doors of your huge hotel room. “You look so beautiful, bubs.”

“So are you,” you chuckled at him before planting a soft kiss on his lips, to which he gladly returned. You moved away before the kiss got too heated, you were well aware that your little brother, who had only started his Formula 3 journey this season, was staying in the room next door. You would very much like to not traumatize him just before his race as well.

“We should bring Riki along,” you tell him, as you hopped off his lap, moving towards the cabinet where you had already unpacked both of your clothes. “That kid needs to get off Roblox when he’s not training or racing.”

“He’s gonna have to remind you that you’re not your mom when he hears that.” he joked. 

“Yeah, I’m the one feeding and keeping him alive when he’s all over the world driving in funny circles, am I not?” you retort.

“That kid fears you more than his own mother,” Jake shrugged. Riki is driving for the same team that he had driven for during his Formula 2 and 3 days, the fact that he's also driving under the development programme of the current team that he is really did made the two bond like no other. It was a given fact that from the moment you had brought Jake home to meet your family, your little brother had found the older brother that he never had in him. The kid looked up to him since then.

“As he should,” you said as you rummage through the clothes to find a good swimsuit to wear for the beach trip. “Is this good or is it too revealing?”

“If it makes you feel nice, just wear it. Riki and I can fight.” He smiled standing up from the bed and walking over to you to press yet another kiss on your face. Seemed like he really couldn't keep himself away from you for that long.

Frankly, Jake absolutely despised the fact that you were always so anxious of what people thought of you. Were you dressed appropriately? Were you saying the right things? Were you being a good person? You’ve always been the type to do whatever pleases the people around you which led to the decision that it was best to keep your relationship private for the sake of letting you have your peace with the people’s eyes being diverted away from you. Most importantly, just as you try as you might to give him less things to worry about before a race, he tries just as much to give you less things to stress about that might hinder your progress in writing your book.

“I love you, have I told you that already?” you smile at him fondly, taking it to heart the effort he makes to make sure you are comfortable despite your aversion to being in the public eye. 

“Not enough if you have to ask,” he teased. Of course, you’ve already told him that and him the same to you. You’ve always been great with words, Jake figured that while his actions mattered just as much, you dearly appreciate feelings being put into words. So despite not being the very best in words, after being with you for long enough, he made sure that he also knew how to word out his love. It may not have been as good as how you do it, but he tries. 

You chuckle at him, walking over to pepper his face with kisses, mumbling i love you’s over and over after each kiss. 

“Noona! Ikeu! They’re asking if you guys want to come to the beach with us!” Riki blares, while simultaneously banging on the door. “You better not be doing the deed in there because I will vomit and stay inside and play Roblox instead.”

You rolled your eyes, stepping out of Jake’s way as he walked over to open the door for Riki. 

“Why do you even have that damn iPad, Riki?” You raised a brow at your little brother, hands on your hips as you eye the iPad that he was holding. “You’re literally going to the beach!”

“For pictures!”

“You have a phone, Riki!” you both went back and forth about the iPad while Jake stayed out of the conversation by preparing Layla for the trip, making sure she was leashed and ready to go after you change your clothes. After all, he knows better than to stay out of the sibling argument out of fear of also being on the receiving end of your nagging.

“Okay fine I’ll leave it here!” Riki huffed, placing the iPad on the coffee table in your hotel room before moving over to lie down on the sofa with Layla.

The yacht was most definitely fancy. Most of the people in there were just the same people in the grid and their partners, some of Riki’s friends from Formula 2, that you were acquainted with over the few times that you went to Jake’s races. It was usually their partners that you spoke with but every now and then you were on the receiving end of the teases that were only supposed to be directed to Jake. It’s only shits and giggles, you’ve grown comfortable over that since most of them were actually fun people to be with when they’re not driving and trying to push the other driver off the track.

You were helping the other wags take their sunset pictures when Jake approached you, offering your usual pink gin.

“Need something, bubba?” You asked as you felt him clinging on to you, arms snaking around your waist and chin resting on your shoulder as he tried to seem interested in how you took the other driver’s partner’s pictures. 

“Nothing, just missed you a bit. You’ve been with the girls for too long.”

“Jesus Christ, Jaeyun, no one is going to steal Y/N away from you!” Heeseung’s partner rolled their eyes at him, trying to push him away.

“No actually, I will steal Y/N out of spite if you don’t leave us alone,” Beomgyu’s partner jokes before pulling you away from him. “We haven’t seen her in a while, I think you should leave the wags alone here.”

“I will push your boyfriend off the track if you do that,” Jake playfully argues with her before moving over to kiss the side of your head and going back to the other drivers and leaving you to do your own thing.

“Your partners have successfully stolen my girlfriend,” Jake shrugged as he sat next to Heeseung who seemed to be having a great time playing hands with Layla.

“Because you were hogging her the entire time, Jaeyun,” he laughed at him. “The girls have been dying to get her to join them since she had to stay back for uni and you’re hogging their friend all to yourself.”

“Yeah, man. I haven’t congratulated Y/N on graduating recently!” Beomgyu cheered from the bar where he stood waiting for his drink to be made. “Y/N is cool for doing that with a book in-progress.”

“She is,” he hums softly. Watching you interact with the other wags really makes his heart swell in joy. 

You've always had a small social circle. For someone who worked with a publication before and just recently graduated from your film program, you sure did hate being around unfamiliar people. It always took you longer than the other to warm up to new people and consider them your friends. You just never were type for small talk. Whenever you spoke, you always said words that were meaningful and left a lasting memory on everyone who heard it. He remembers you telling him one time that you wished you had more friends because the only friends you ever considered were him, Sunoo and Jake's best friend Jay. Now, seeing you be so close with the entire grid’s wags really makes him proud of how far you’ve come from being too afraid to speak to them to her being immensely missed for not being present after she had to stay back for school.

“You are so whipped, it’s disgustingly cute, man,” Beomgyu shrugged at him, playfully hitting the back of his head. Jake doesn’t mind being teased for being whipped. He is. There’s nothing to deny about that—besides, it’s you. What’s to not be smitten about you? Even the guys’ partners agree with his sentiments.

“I won’t be surprised you become so whipped you accidentally tell everyone and their mom that you two are dating,” Keeho laughed at him. 

“It’s not like we’re keeping it a secret though. We just let everyone assume what they want. We never exclusively said we were just friends though?” Jake explained to him. “Plus the media is harsh as fuck. I really don’t want her going through whatever bullshit they told your partners when they were introduced.”

“Yunhee had to turn off her comments once because of how bad the hate got,” Heeseung sighed, recalling the faint memory of his partner getting blasted with hate comments when they started going out. Looking back at it, he really wished he approached the unavoidable media portion of their relationship the same way as Jake did.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Anyone in the paddock was shocked to see you with just Yunhee when the weekend came along. Which then resulted in social media having  literal outbreak with the rising suspicions that the Ferrari superstar was in fact out of the market and very much taken by you. There were mixed reactions, as Yunhee told you. You had your social media, but you rarely opened them to check. It didn't help that your work accounts were held by your manager and your socials were private. So Yunhee's input were the only words you could rely on in terms of what the people thought of you.

It made you anxious, to be honest, but after Jake finished a P3, a P2 and a P4 in three free practices, you couldn’t help but divert your attention to that, out of worry that your boyfriend might beat himself for not getting P1 just yet.  It was his home race, you knew getting those finishes might set him back a little so you preferred to just shake it off you instead of giving Jake another thing to think about than winning.

P2. He's starting from P2. Oh God. You were more nervous than ever for both Ferrari drivers as they sat one in front of the other, cars revving as they waited for the lights to go off

“He can do this,” Yunhee assured you, which to be honest was a little bit weird because her boyfriend was still technically competing with yours. Nonetheless, you appreciate her attempts to help you calm down. Only a fool would deny that you were more nervous than the driver with the way you refused to take your usual morning coffee or any heavy food in general—Yunhee would normally tease you if she didn't have a clear understanding how important this is to you as much as it is to Jake.

Your eyes never left the screen as you both sat in the garage, hands clasped tightly together, barely noticing how clammy each other's hands were. 

The last few laps were rolling more and more intensely as it passed by. Both Ferrari drivers were leading the race with Heeseung holding pole position is a millisecond of a gap from your boyfriend. I hated that you were going to beat yourself up for hoping Heeseung falters ever for a split second during one of the turns just so Jake could pass, especially when his girlfriend, whom you are very close with is rooting for him as well.

“And there goes Jake Sim finally overtaking his teammate Heeseung Lee, taking pole position in this home grand prix! Will he hold this position in the last 4 laps? Will Jake Sim win his home grand prix and take the lead in the driver's championships?”

“Keep your pace, Jake,” his engineer reminds him on his radio. “Heeseung is right behind you blocking Beomgyu.”

“I'm giving him a tow next race, please tell him that,” he happily chuckles as his grip on his steering wheel tightens, locking up as he and his teammate trails the last lap.

“Holy shit! Y/N? Is Y/N watching? I'm winning my home race!” He yells over his radio happily, euphoria consuming his body as he laughs freely. “Is my bubba watching?”

“Yes, Jake. Y/N is watching,” his engineer chuckles to him.

You could not believe it. Jake is finally winning his home race. After three years of finishing 2nd in Australia, he’s finally surpassed Heeseung and Beomgyu in his home race. Your Jake won.

Your face was wet with tears, thank the gods up above for waterproof makeup because she’d be doomed if not for it. Yunhee was dragging her down to the pitlane, just in front of the parc ferme to wait for Jake to cross the checkered flag. 

“Lee successfully blocks off Choi from overtaking, defending his and his teammates' position! Jake Sim! Jake Sim pushes for the very last time towards the end of the Australian Grand Prix and there he goes with one of the most brilliant drives of the 2024 Formula 1 season! 6th grand prix win of his career since he started racing for Ferrari when he was only 20 years old! At 22, Sim finally takes his first home race!”

 “Mon bebe, Jake won!” Yunhee happily claps hugging you tight as you bawl your eyes out once you see Jake cross the line and approach parc ferme. You were speechless to say the least. For the first time in your life, you were rendered unable to describe how you were feeling. Jake’s human dictionary—finally out of words to describe things out of pure happiness that was overflowing from her body. 

Jake wasn’t any better than you were. He just won his home race, right before his family and most especially the love of his life—and all he can think of is how he’s going to get out of his car and helmet as soon as he can so he can finally hold you and celebrate his most important win yet. 

He pulled himself up the car and stood on it, basking in the glory of his win as the crowd cheered for him. He was over the moon as he stepped down, scanning the crowd properly to see a glimpse of where you might be as soon as his helmet and gloves were off.

And there you were, with tears in your eyes as Yunhee and his mom tried their best to comfort your crying figure. And before he could rethink his impending decision, his eyes tunnel vision to you among the sea of men clad in red as he runs up to you, pouncing as he holds your face and pressing the most passion-filled kiss he’s ever given you. And you kiss back, drawing in all the excitement, pride and love that were shared from the very beginning as he holds every single dream he’s ever had since he was a kid, driving in go karts in Brisbane. He’s finally here, a thousand miles from where he used to be 8 years old driving in his first karting competition, now holding the love of his life, in his first home race win, in front of all of his family and the people who supported him from the moment he flew to the UK to race for F4. 

“Oh bubba,” you cried, kissing his forehead over and over. “You did so well. You are so loved. I am so proud of you.”

On the side, Yunhee did not know whether she was to be scared of the media now that you’re doing this in front of everyone and their mom after you’ve sworn you would keep your relationship private—but she chooses to bask in happiness as well as Heeseung approaches her to give her a soft kiss as well. 

The team celebrates just as well as soon as he moves over to the side. They all pat his back, chanting as he jumps over them to hug them all at the same time. 

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

You could not help but feel the tears running down once again as you watched him take his trophy up on the podium. Yunhee still held you very tightly as his mom tried to videotape the entire program on her phone. While it still hasn’t sunk in to you that Jake had just exposed your relationship to the media proudly, and you are completely doing nothing about it, you couldn’t help but not care at the moment. You were sure your PR Manager was going to blast you as soon as you get back in your hotel but fuck it, it couldn’t be more important than Jake getting sprayed with champagne and him getting his revenge on Beomgyu for spraying the champagne right into his eyes. It was appalling at best and disgusting at worst that they’re wasting expensive champagne making them all sticky and gross, but you did not have it in you to show your dislike for the decades old way of celebration. 

Jake’s eyes scan the crowd once again after he gulped down some of the champagne, looking for a glimpse of you. And there you were, in all of your glory, smiling at him, tears staining your eyes once again. He couldn’t help but give you a little wave, which you returned, even blowing him a kiss as you looked up to where he stood from the podium.

His mom managed to give you a hug after the awarding ceremony, returning to the hospitality to wait and watch for the post-race press conference. Sure enough, as soon as Jake sat on the couch, still buzzing from excitement from what just happened, it was the first thing that was asked, making Heeseung and Beomgyu cackle on both his sides.

“Have you guys been aware of this all along?” the interviewer asked, curiously.

Heeseung nodded. “Since F2. It’s unbelievable.”

“Since F2?!” Everyone in the press room seemed to have turned their heads to Jake in shock after finding out how long he had been hiding it from the media.

“She’s very shy and introverted. We also enjoy our privacy very much, so that’s been under wraps for four years already. I sort of blacked out earlier and just forgot that I wasn’t supposed to expose it like that, but yeah. I owe that win to her as much as I owe it to Ferrari. She’s always been supportive. I know you’ve seen her in the past races before and it’s the first time that she didn’t go with a friend from home, so this was an experience for her as much as it is for me.” Everyone could not help but stare in awe with how gentle and fond Jake spoke about you. And it wasn’t like it was something that you’ve never witnessed before, his language could be crude whenever he was around his mates and other friends—but rarely with you. He once said, it made him feel like he was staining your good integrity as a writer for him to speak so crudely whenever you are around.

“You are also now in the lead for the Driver’s Championship. What does that feel like, Mr. Jake Sim?”

“Great, actually. I’ve been a menace to both my family and Y/N about how important this race is to me because it is both my home race and the race that will push me closer to my goal. So I’m glad Y/N has been able to endure my yapping while she’s writing her book because my family called me out about it.” He chuckled. “I am actually still buzzing. I can’t believe that just happened. Very big thanks to Heeseung for helping me get there and to my engineers whom I had to argue with let me finish the race without boxing for the second time. That’s some big trust in me and I’m glad I was able to see it through?”

“Do you think you still would’ve won that without Heeseung defending your win?”

“Hey man,” Heeseung leered from Jake’s side. “I defended that win because I also did not want to be behind Beomgyu. Jake still would’ve won with that quarter of a second gap.”

“My tires are dead at that point,” Beomgyu snorted. “I was going to crash if I pushed harder to surpass Jake.”

You can’t help but smile at both drivers, proudly defending their friend’s win despite being questioned of its integrity. You take a mental note to send them gifts before you leave to go home in a few days. 

“I drove pretty well. The commentators agree that it is one of the most brilliant drives I’ve ever done in my career. So, yeah. The team has done great with that 1-2 for Ferrari.” Jake smiles at the reporter politely. 

Soon enough every media duty was over and he was finally back in the arms of the love of his life. 

“I’m so fucking proud of you,” you hum against his neck, as you squeezed hs tighter. “You did so fucking well, bubba.”

“I’m sorry I got too happy on the radio, bubs. And for kissing you in front of everyone,” he pouted, pulling you away to see the expression on your face but it did not change. Your face was just as happy as it had been before you went up to hug him.

“It’s fine,” you smiled at him, pressing a soft kiss on his lips. “At least they know now who’s the one to beat next to get to you.”

“You know my heart is always reserved for you, Y/N. There’s no chance of beating you in something only you know how to do.”

“You cheesy motherfucker.” You laughed at him, trying to hide the blush on your face before Yunhee notices it and teases you about it. “But I’m letting that slide. You won today after all.”

“Care to celebrate with me then? Before the party?” The smug look on his face says it all and he already knows that you could never say no to that. After all, he did look absolutely hot winning his home race with a decent gap from his opponents. 

“I thought you’d never ask, Mr. Sim.”

—end.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

masterlist

a/n : hi hello i've been listening to the alchemy for more than i should and it's race week again ! it took me a good while to write this bc i personally feel like i don't write fluff well as i haven't been with anyone for years now ( lol ) and i'm not sure if that's how in love people do it sooooo there's that . your notes and feedback are so appreciatedddd !

tnx for making it this far <33

xo, anya ୨୧

[calummss]

Eye of the Beholder | Penelope Featherington

masterlist

summary: you had liked penelope for as long as you could remember and watched her change for someone else. at least so you thought

pairing: sapphic! penelope featherington x lesbian! reader

words: 1k

a/n: i <3 penelope sm and needed a wlw imagine so bad. spent 1 hour on this so if it’s bad i apologise but it’s 4am and i couldn’t sleep without finishing this story

“Pen!” You called out from the Featherington’s hallway. “Make haste, we are already late. Madame Delacroix promised us those fabrics from Paris and I am in desperate need of new garments.”

Farleigh raised her eyebrows at you but remained silent as she glanced up the stairs to see if Penelope had heard the lady shout from downstairs; improper manners but being late to an appointment was far more rude.

Penelope eventually made it downstairs wearing her bright yellow dress. Penelope hated the citrus colours her mamma always had her wear. You thought it rather suited her. It was a happy colour indeed and she looked the kindest in them. The details were too much—you agreed with Pen on that but she looked beautiful in any colour. How could she not? She had hair, orange like the sunsets over London; rosy cheeks that matched her fiery hair; when she was embarrassed or vexed, feeling too hot or cold, the apples of her cheeks would shine bright alike. She was so very bewitching but you could never tell her. It was unheard of—a woman in love with another? No one ever even uttered a word of queer affections. So you stayed silent and admired her from afar.

“Ready?”

“Indeed.” She beamed, taking your arms and headed towards the carriage that waited outside.

At the Modiste you eyed a pink fabric that Madame Delacroix had laid out for you. Pink like little piglets and flowers, decorated with the most marvellous design of glitter. Penelope had strayed away from the citrus colour and asked Madame Delacroix for the latest fabric from Paris that weren’t orange or yellow.

“Do you think it wise to alter your mamma’s signature colours?” You asked.

“I simply do not understand her fixation on citrus colours. ‘Happy’ colours indeed but it makes me look washed out. Sick even. It is not for me.”

“I think you look pretty.”

“You might be the only one in Mayfair who thinks so.”

“I doubt so,” you walked towards the mirror to stand opposite Penelope, “but if you must know, those colours Madam Delacroix chose rather suit you quite well..”

“You think so?” You swear you saw a tinkle in her eyes.

“Yes.”

Madame Delacroix promised Penelope six new gowns, one to be done in two days time just in time for Lady Danbury’s first ball of the season. It was both Pen’s and yours third season out with no prospects to show. Either men were too interested in you or not. Believed you to be some kind of dog they could just tell about. And with your conveyed feelings you weren’t even quite sure you wanted a love match with a man. A woman sounded much more pleasing but out of reach. Your family; your papa, mamma and younger sister knew of your unwise choices and savoured the word of acceptance over and over again but that it was a fantasy that could never be real. That you had to marry a man and that it would be easier to forget. Society liked women in brothels that performed together. Was queer love only good for the pleasure of others?

It was even harder knowing that Penelope felt for Colin Bridgerton. He barely eyed her and yet her affections were in a box with a key only he could open. Penelope had grown more silent on the matter and not staring too much out of her window. It was odd for Pen not to stare into Bridgerton house but you couldn’t blame her. A flame only lasted so long.

At the ball you had waited by the food table in hopes of Penelope finding you. The two of you enjoyed being stuck to the wall and observing the ton. The most peculiar things did happen when one thought no one was around to see. You saw the Featherington’s arrive when you noticed that Penelope hadn’t taken her cape off and when the staff helped her remove it, Pen stood on top of the stairs like a fallen angel. The green complimented her well. Well was an understatement. It was unmatched. You weren’t even able to get to Pen as the suitors went up one by one.

When the suitors did eventually leave, Cressida had walked up in the same moment and you saw her purposely edging the heel of her foot into her fabric so that when Pen tried to come towards you, her gown had ripped.

“How mortifying! I am so clumsy. My deepest apologies.” She said, cruelty marking her every word.

Penelope stared at you and without warning rushed outside. You followed her after telling Cressida off, hoping she would one day learn her lesson.

Outside Pen started weeping, a sight you wished you wouldn’t have to witness.

“Pen, I am so sorry.”

“I am the laughing stock of the ton even when I change my entire wardrobe!”

“You didn’t have to change to begin with.”

“All night I waited to be noticed. To be admired but who could I blame?” She let out a concealed sigh with a laugh.

“Pen,” you grabbed her hands, “I saw Colin look at you. I am very sure he was engaged by your charm.”

“Colin?” Pen pulled her hands back. “Who said I’m talking about Colin?”

“Are we not?” You asked carefully.

“No, I am talking about you!” She shouted, her chest rising and falling.

“What?” You mumbled.

“All day,” she breathed out, “I waited to be beholden by you. To see you gaze at me in a way that is considered forbidden but you didn’t.”

“I—“

“Nevermind, I should have never said what I said. I’m-a-fool-and-should’ve-stayed-quiet-and—“

“Shut up.” You muttered before kissing Penelope.

A momentarily calmness came over Penelope as she melted into the kiss. You had grabbed her by the face and pulled her in. Her hands held your wrists and she kissed you back so softly, unsure if the kiss was reality or fantasy.

“You have kissed me,” Pen pulled back.

“Shouldn’t I have?”

“I’m not sure, I—“

“Kiss me again.”

And she did. With the same tenderness as before as you nervously waited for the carriage to arrive and to take you two home.

[wonik1ss]

✦ TODDLERS AND TIARAS — ❝ ive ot6 ❞

[ 寂しげなmoonlight 君といれば ]

synopsis • ives love for you goes unknown even to you sometimes ( ??? ) fluff < song rec : sun and moon - aespa >

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝜗𝜚 it all started when one day during iz*one’s off days wonyoung and yujin ran into tweleve year old you

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝜗𝜚 wonyoung paused and looked through one of the practice rooms to see you learning la vien rose’s choero

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝜗𝜚 yujin and her cooed and then ducked when you looked over to see your choreographer walk in

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝜗𝜚 two years later you all meet again when a meeting was held for ives creation

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝜗𝜚 during practice you were always a few steps behind and wonyoung could tell so she always paid extra attention to you and made sure you got everything

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝜗𝜚 while rei and liz always took you out shopping conveniently during testing seasons

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝜗𝜚 while gaeul always helped you with your homework and yujin always stopped by your school to drop lunch she knew you already had

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝜗𝜚 while leeseo always claimed to need to sleep in your bed cause your mattress was so soft (totally not because she felt the closest to you and felt like physical she needed to be too)

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝜗𝜚 “leeseo I think my arms starting to get stringy..”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝜗𝜚 “it’s still attached stop whining !”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝜗𝜚 you weren’t used to the korea’s culture or idol culture of being so close since that was mostly reserved for the maknae which you weren’t since you debuted at sixteen

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝜗𝜚 so when you started your birthday love you were very surprised to see your presents

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝜗𝜚 “oh wonyoung got me a heavy gift”. as you opened it your eyes grew wide and your chat blew up

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝜗𝜚 the girl had bought you three tiaras with a note ‘for our princess’. you laughed as the chat still erupted and you moved on

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝜗𝜚 this kind of reminded of the time rei pinching your cheeks while teaching you random Japanese words.. like really weird

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝜗𝜚 “so what did you just teach me?”. you said your hair and hers up in two buns with a ridiculous amount of glitter on your cheeks from rei’s make over

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝜗𝜚 “smelly cheese stick”. rei said as she turned on her camera for her daily vlog. your mouth ajar.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝜗𝜚 “do you wanna learn tomato cookie for spy poop next?”. you scratched your head while Rei resisted the urge to pinch your cheeks

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝜗𝜚 or maybe the time when there was perfectly six seats left in your groups van but yujin and liz were fighting for who’s lap you got to sit on.. it was a suggestion from your manager who said it jokingly but they took it so seriously..

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝜗𝜚 “no but I’m older and have stronger bones !”. yujin said as she held onto your waist very tightly.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝜗𝜚 “but we are like twin sisters it’s only fair !”. liz held both your hands as yujin cursed and wonyoung and leeseo busted out laughing. while rei spoke up.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝜗𝜚 “y/n said she was tired she can just sleep on my lap in the back”. you nodded and climbed over to the back while both girls just sat grumpy the whole ride home

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝜗𝜚 oh but what about the time wonyoung and gaeul kept dragging you on stage during ott

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝜗𝜚 wonyoungs line stared and she kissed your cheek while you smiled at a fan and at the same time gaeul decided she just needed to dance with you

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝜗𝜚 then two minutes later gaeul was giving you a piggy back and when she just put you down wonyoung grabbed liz’s hand and beckoned you their child to take a family photo for a fan

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝜗𝜚 you just thought nothing of it.. korea wasn’t your home and you hadn’t been an idol for a long time so maybe you didn’t know everything

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝜗𝜚 but you did know your member cherished even when they treated you like a toddler or dressed you up like a doll with tiaras and such it was all out of love for your big happy family

[screaminglygay]

KINKTOBER (day 7)

pairing: yelena belova x fem!reader - overstimulation

summary: yelena helps you forget your fear of horror, making the night more intense than you expected

warnings: overstimulation, teasing, light smut, sexual tension, flirty banter, sensory overload

wordcount: 2k

an: i truly am desperate to have a girlfriend and enjoy this cozy season with her):

You stretch your arms out, admiring the finished decorations, from fake spider webs to carved pumpkins. Halloween wasn’t really your thing, but Yelena had insisted on getting into the spooky spirit. The apartment now looks like a haunted house met an explosion of glitter and pumpkins.

“Wow, so you really don´t celebrate it?” Yelena looks at you with a raised eyebrow, smirking slightly as she gestures to the over-the-top decorations.

You shrug, grinning. "Okay, fine... I do like all the decorating stuff and just watching horror movies, even though I’m terrified later.” You chuckle at the admission. “And the candy!”

“Oh, how could I forget about your sweet tooth, (Y/N).” She rolls her eyes playfully, but there’s that soft smile on her face you know too well.

You nudge her lightly, the two of you settling onto the couch as the spooky ambiance takes over the room. Yelena grabs the remote, scrolling through the horror movie options. You try to look brave, but she catches the nervous flicker in your eyes.

“You’re already scared,” she teases, leaning closer. “I haven’t even pressed play yet.”

“I’m fine!” you insist, although your hand grips the throw pillow a little tighter.

Yelena gives you that mischievous grin, the one that means she’s up to something. “Let’s make sure you don’t get too terrified then,” she whispers, her hand slowly making its way to your thigh, fingers ghosting over your skin in a way that immediately sends shivers up your spine.

“Yelena…” you mutter, trying to sound stern, but it comes out more like a nervous laugh. “This isn’t helping.”

“Oh, I think it will help a lot,” she quips, a glint of playful wickedness in her eyes as her fingers inch higher, teasing at first, and then more persistent. You squirm under her touch, trying to focus on the movie, but it's impossible with Yelena's attention on you.

“See, if you’re distracted, you won’t be scared at all.”

You laugh, shaking your head, but she doesn’t stop. Yelena’s touch grows more intense, playful in how she knows exactly what buttons to push. Each brush of her hand makes you shift and squirm, your breath hitching in your throat as she grins wider, clearly enjoying the effect she’s having on you.

“Yelena!” You gasp, trying to keep your voice steady, but failing miserably. The movie is long forgotten, the scary music in the background drowned out by the rapid thumping of your heart.

“See, much better than horror movies, huh?” She teases, her fingers never letting up, and you're caught between laughing and sighing, between trying to stop her and secretly wanting her to keep going.

You’ve barely been able to pay attention with Yelena’s constant teasing. Her fingers still lightly trace over your thigh, just enough to make you squirm every few minutes. You keep swatting her hand away, but it’s no use, she’s enjoying this way too much.

Suddenly, the first jump scare hits, something pops out of the shadows on screen. You practically leap a foot in the air, letting out a yelp that’s immediately followed by Yelena’s loud, amused laughter.

“Wow, scared already, huh? We’re like five minutes in, detka,” she snickers, her hand now resting firmly on your thigh, keeping you anchored. “And here I thought you said you could handle it.”

You pout, trying to regain your composure, though your heart is still racing. “I wasn’t expecting it, okay?” you huff, crossing your arms. “I bet you’d jump too if you weren’t so busy being... well, you.”

“Me? Oh no, I don’t get scared,” she says, full of sass, leaning closer until her lips brush against your ear. “Besides, you’re way more fun to watch than the movie.”

Your cheeks flush as you try to ignore the way her breath against your skin makes your pulse race even more. Another creepy scene builds on the screen, but instead of being scared, all you can think about is Yelena’s fingers slowly trailing up your thigh again. She’s smirking, fully aware of how flustered she’s making you, and loving every second of it.

Then another jump scare comes, and this time, Yelena jumps slightly, letting out a small gasp. You whip your head toward her, a huge grin spreading across your face.

“Oh, really? Not scared, huh?” you tease, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

Yelena’s eyes narrow playfully, but there’s that mischievous sparkle in them. “That was… strategic. I was just trying to make you feel better,” she says, feigning seriousness. “Obviously.”

You laugh, knowing full well she got spooked for real, and it feels like a small victory. But before you can bask in your triumph, Yelena’s fingers move again, this time catching you off guard, and you gasp as her hand creeps higher.

“Oh, look who’s distracted now,” she quips, grinning wickedly as you squirm. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you from the big, scary monsters.” She leans in, pressing a quick kiss to your neck, sending a warm shiver down your spine.

“You’re the scary one!” you shoot back, your voice breathless as you try, and fail, to push her hand away again.

“Oh, detka,” Yelena purrs, her voice dripping with playful seduction, “you have no idea how scary I can be.”

You try to focus back on the movie, but Yelena’s hands are a constant distraction. Her fingers drum against your thigh, then drift upward, then back down...never quite crossing the line, but close enough to make you squirm in your seat.

“Yelena, I’m trying to watch the movie!” you protest half-heartedly, though the grin on your face betrays you. It’s impossible to be annoyed when she’s looking at you like that her beautiful eyes twinkling with mischief, a smirk pulling at her lips.

“Oh, are you now?” she purrs, completely unconvinced. Her hand slides just a little higher, fingers curling against your skin. “Because it looks to me like you’re very, very distracted.”

You roll your eyes, biting back a smile. “By a certain someone who can’t keep her hands to herself.”

“Guilty,” she grins, leaning in close. Her lips ghost over the shell of your ear, and you shiver despite yourself. “But can you really blame me? You’re just too cute when you’re all flustered.”

You can feel the heat creeping up your cheeks as Yelena chuckles against your skin, clearly enjoying every second of this. Her hand drifts up again, fingers tracing light circles just over your clothes, at a place you need her the most.

“Yelena!” you squeak, trying to keep your voice steady, but it’s useless. She knows exactly what she’s doing.

“Yes, printsess?” she asks innocently, her hand moving back down to your knee as if she’s done nothing wrong. “I’m just helping you relax. You seemed a little… tense.”

“Uh-huh, sure,” you huff, trying to sound annoyed, but you’re smiling too much for it to work. “You’re lucky I like you.”

Yelena laughs softly, her lips brushing against your neck in a way that sends a thrill down your spine. “Oh, I know you do,” she whispers, her voice low and teasing. “And lucky for you, I like you too. A lot.”

Before you can respond, there’s another jump scare, and you jolt in your seat again, letting out a startled yelp. Yelena bursts out laughing, practically cackling at your reaction.

“You’re too easy!” she giggles, her hand moving to cup your cheek, turning your face toward hers. “So scared, even though I’m right here to protect you.”

“You’re the one scaring me!” you laugh, pushing her lightly on the shoulder, though she doesn’t budge.

“Hmm, maybe,” she admits, her smirk widening. “But you love it, don’t you? Admit it.”

You groan, rolling your eyes but unable to deny the truth. “Fine, maybe I do.”

Yelena leans in closer, “that’s what I thought,” she murmurs, before closing the gap and kissing you softly, just for a moment, just enough to leave you breathless.

But before she gives you another chance to concentrate on the movie, Yelena's hand slips under your sweater, her fingers grazing the soft skin of your waist. You shiver, not from the cold, but from the unexpected warmth of her touch.

“Yelena!” you try to protest, though your voice comes out more as a moan than anything else. You look over at her.

“What? I’m cold,” she pouts dramatically, even though you can feel the heat radiating from her. Her hand presses gently against your skin, her fingers tracing playful circles along your side, slowly back to your core.

“You’re unbelievable,” you whisper, biting back another smile.

“You love it,” she teases, her voice soft but full of confidence, leaning in closer until her nose brushes against yours. Her hand finding it´s way past your panties to play with your clit. “Admit it, detka. You like when I keep you on your toes.”

You roll your eyes, trying to act unimpressed, but the way she’s touching you, like she’s daring you to deny it, makes your heart skip a beat. “Maybe I do,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Yelena grins, clearly pleased with herself. “See? I knew it,” she whispers, her fingers moving just a little faster,"you like this too, huh?”

“Stop it! I’m trying to watch the movie.” You moan out loud.. too loud.

“Oh, sure you are,” Yelena chuckles, "then watch and let me play." Her fingers enter you, which makes you forgot about the movie completly. You close your eyes, feeling how close you are.

Everything feels like a blur, a dizzying mix of warmth and touch that leaves you breathless. Yelena’s hands, so sure and teasing, are everywhere and nowhere all at once. "Let go, my princess."

You’re trying to keep up, to catch your breath, but the way her fingers move inside you, slow, then fast, then slow again, leaves you dizzy, spiraling into a haze where time no longer feels real. Your mind swims, too wrapped up in the way she’s unraveling you, again and again, each wave of sensation building on the last until you're not even sure where one ends and the next begins.

“So easy,” she whispers against your skin, her voice like velvet, thick with satisfaction. “You fall apart for me so easily, don’t you?”

You can only manage a nod, the heat pooling in your core making it impossible to form words. Everything is too much, too intense, yet somehow, not enough. You crave more, and Yelena knows it. She always knows exactly how to keep you on the edge, how to make every touch feel like fire, like a promise you can’t quite grasp but desperately want to.

Her lips ghost over your neck, her breath warm and teasing as she leans in closer, pressing you deeper into the cushions. “You can take more, printsess,” she murmurs softly, “I know you can.”

The world around you fades, your senses narrowing down to the feel of her, the weight of her body against yours, the way her hands guide you through each wave of pleasure with ease. Every time you think you’ve reached the peak, she pulls you back up, pushing you further, until the sensations melt together into a dizzy haze of warmth and heat, a bundle of everything all at once.

Yelena’s touch is relentless, but not in a way that feels overwhelming - just enough to remind you who’s in control. She loves this, you can tell. The way her lips curve into a knowing smile every time you shudder beneath her, the way she hums in satisfaction as she watches you unravel again and again.

“You look so pretty like this,” she murmurs, her lips brushing your ear as her hands continue their unrelenting exploration. You can barely keep up with her, lost in the overwhelming sensation of it all, the warmth spreading through your limbs like liquid fire. “So so so pretty, just for me.”

Your mind is a blur of heat and sensation, everything blending together into one hazy, overwhelming feeling. You can feel yourself trembling, caught in the never-ending spiral of her touch, her voice, her presence. Each time you think you’ve reached the end, she pulls you back, only to push you further, until all you can do is surrender to the dizzying haze of warmth and pleasure she wraps you in.

Thank you for reading this! any feedback is really appraciated!

[deanbrainrotwritings]

— SCREAM (YOU MAKE ME FEEL LIKE IT’S HALLOWEEN)

SUMMARY : it’s Halloween and it’s also your birthday, and Dean’s made a lot of promises about how it was gonna be the best night ever.

PAIRING : dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : none

WARNINGS : nsfw (18+), smut, fluff, tiny bit of choking, nipple orgasm

WORD COUNT : 3.4k

A/N : happy Halloween (if you celebrate) !!! title from avenged sevenfold and muse song. my sister convinced me to write this LOL. this is pretty much a Drabble, lol, leaving it open ended basically, you’ll see why… (also, when I write I pretty much assume everyone’s watch Supernatural at least once.. I never put any spoiler disclaimers bc I forget… lol but, yeah. pretty much everything I write will mention something from any and all seasons) XX

The Bunker was chilly this Halloween night, and for the first time in years, Y/n and the Winchesters weren’t tangled up in a hunt. The monsters, for once, didn’t take advantage of the holiday to get away with their usual tricks and modes of preying.

To be fair, their numbers had dwindled significantly since Jack became ‘God’ or whatever the hell happened. Hunting wasn’t nearly as hard as it was before, as if even monsters had free-will bestowed upon them. As if they’d chosen a better life rather than one in which they are hunted and killed.

Good for them. Everyone wins.

The only prey tonight is Y/n, but as far as she’s concerned the running is only part of the fun, and getting caught wasn’t something she’d hate.

As she breathed erratically and ran as fast as her platform heels could carry her across the concrete floor of the Bunker, her heart raced as if she were on any other hunt. But what made this hunt different was the spark of excitement that tingled up her spine and the flush of her bare skin.

She stopped at the kitchen and caught her breath momentarily, looking around the place as everything flashed red. To add to the thrill, mostly. She walked on shaky legs to the refrigerator and took out some water to drink it quickly. As she swallowed down a fair amount, she could feel the cold water travel down to her stomach and she sighed as her thirst and the dryness in her throat disappeared.

After about twenty minutes of hiding and running away, she was on high alert, her senses were heightened, and she could easily hear his footsteps—even over the alarm Dean had set off in the Bunker to scare her even more.

She quickly made her way out of the kitchen after setting the half-empty water bottle on the metal counter, checked both ways and began making her way into the dungeon, wondering if maybe Dean was there. If he could just catch her already, the dampness of her lace panties wouldn’t be too uncomfortable. Especially since she could easily feel it with the cool air inside the concrete walls of her temporary home.

Much to her disappointment, Dean wasn’t anywhere to be found in the dungeon or anywhere around there. Even if he’s the one that’s supposed to be looking for her, she just wanted to know what would happen once she was caught by him.

Besides, her feet were starting to ache, her legs were practically turning to jelly at this point, and her sweat was starting to feel uncomfortable. It didn’t sound very sexy to her, but she knew Dean would still jump her bones despite that. It was a nice feeling, to be loved… by him specifically.

She had to wonder if he was even trying.

Just forty minutes ago, he had texted her to take her clothes off and to wear the lingerie set he’d placed in Sam’s room for safekeeping. It had been in Cas’ room before that, but once Sam left to be with Eileen, Dean placed the white box on Sam’s bed. A huge, royal blue bow glittered in the middle of the boring room, perfectly positioned on the box with her name and a sexy note from Dean promising to make it the best birthday ever.

She’d waited in Dean’s room excitedly in the light blue lingerie and when he’d made his way to her, she couldn’t believe what he had in mind, what his plan was. He had some heels in his hands and she gaped up at the Ghostface mask that covered her boyfriend’s handsome face. He was covered from head to toe in a thick black robe, laughed at the look on her face, and got down to put her heels on her.

“How’s that, sweetheart?” He asked, his deep and hot voice muffled behind the mask.

“Uh,” she tried, then just decided to stand up and moved her legs around a bit to test the comfort. She nodded and he tugged her towards him, the smooth and cool material of his robe brushing against her soft and warm skin. She could feel every inch of him, and wondered momentarily if he was completely naked underneath, but instead of asking him flirtatiously, she just gasped.

She stumbled backwards for a few steps when he began to walk forward with her still in his arms. She chewed on her bottom lip when he had her pressed against the wall. She could see his green eyes through the thick black cloth that covered his eyes, the way they were looking down at her with so much amusement. If she had to go by those crinkles by his eyes, she had to guess he had the hottest, smuggest look on his face.

And he’d be right to.

He lifted her leg up slowly, held her knee by his hip, and squeezed her closer to him by her waist. Her heart raced at the sight of him and she felt wetness grow between her legs when he slotted his hips between hers.

All the while, she just clung to his arms, staring up at him in surprise and completely aroused by his calculated movements. Even her breaths had gotten irregular and he hadn’t said or done much of anything, but that was the effect of Dean Winchester.

“Run,” he murmured deeply, releasing her before stepping away.

She blinked up at him, “uh, what?”

He looked away, laughed softly, and grabbed her wrist. She chewed on her lip and let him spin her around gracefully. With a nice slap on her ass, he repeated the word ‘run’ much more sternly than before. She looked at the hallway in front of her in surprise, then looked down at herself in lingerie, then back over her shoulder at him in his costume.

He jerked his head to the left, quietly telling her to go.

And that’s why she was running now. They were half-assed attempts most of the time, but when she spotted him behind her, she felt her stomach flutter, and started to break out in a thrilled sprint across whatever room she was in to get away from him. When he chased her, the small hairs on her body raised above her skin, a shudder of excitement ghosting up her spine. It was way too fun to end the game, but getting caught piqued her interest, too.

Dean wouldn’t just start this whole game only for it to end at the capture. No, he was far too creative and way too frisky for that. He had something in mind, something mind blowing, some big treat at the end regardless of the outcome of this chase. That much she knew.

She made her way out of the dungeon, speed walking through the halls, checking her surroundings. At this point, she was considering the removal of her heels. They were very sexy, but definitely not ideal for running. Also, they practically announced her location with each click on the concrete floor, despite her efforts to walk awkwardly in attempts to muffle the sounds.

She had already checked the infirmary, the library, kitchen, bathroom, shooting range. She basically paid a visit to every room in the Bunker and had no luck in bumping into Dean in any of those places.

She thought about what to do about the heels as she went to the one place she hadn’t checked—the garage, where Dean’s favourite sexy, old cars remained. They were perfect for hiding in. Of course, Dean could be waiting to pounce on her from within any one of them, if he was looking through each room. She hoped for the latter, it would give her feet some rest from the painful running. She simply couldn’t walk in heels this tall for very long.

She quietly made her way up the stairs to stand at the entrance of the garage when the alarms stopped and the lights flickered off. She cursed softly under her breath, but Dean already gave his location away by shutting off the loud noises and distracting lights.

Once she slowly set foot deeper into the garage, she quickly scanned around the room, her eyes adjusting to the darkness. She walked to the end of the garage where the black Bentley S2 was and looked around one last time with her hand on the door handle before sneaking inside the backseat of the vehicle.

The leather squeaked beneath her bare skin as she slid across and shut the door once she was inside. She wiggled around to lay down over the beige seat and relaxed at last. Bending her knee, she lifted her leg up to finally remove the heels. Mentally, she apologised to Dean when she took them off.

She lowered her legs and groaned when she looked at the tiny space between the backseat and the front seat. It wasn’t nearly as big as the Impala’s, really rather small, way too small for her to slip between comfortably on her back. If she were on her side… but no, that was out of the question.

She rolled her ankles, stretched her legs, bent them… She did everything until the aches in her legs mostly disappeared. And, wow, she could fall asleep right about now. Except there was a loud bang from something in the garage that made her jump, one of her hands immediately flying to her mouth to contain her hysterical laugh and a yelp.

“I know you’re in here,” Dean taunted nearby. She removed her hand to smile curiously and raised a brow. She wished she could sink into the car seat right about now, but also wanted to lift herself up to see him, but decided against it. Instead, she waited as he looked through every car, every second feeling like a lifetime and yet when he gently pushed against the car she was in with a loud bang, she shouted.

His chest was heaving, his gloved hands were placed on either side of the door where her feet were and she started to laugh instead.

“Hi, baby,” he greeted in a raspy tone, his voice slightly muffled behind the mask. He proceeded to open the door of the car and she sat up, her heart thumping excitedly when he peeked inside and saw her feet covered only in the white thigh highs. “Your feet okay?” He asked, then grasped her ankle, she barely nodded when he tugged her roughly towards him by her foot.

She quickly gripped the seat as the leather squeaked against her ass, heating up her sensitive skin. “Ow,” she chuckled, echoing his own apologetic laugh. He grabbed the seat and leaned inside, his other hand slid up her calf to grab behind her knee. She licked her lips and her face flushed as he parted her legs. Wetness pooled between her thighs, her clit pulsed at the ideas running through her head, instantly becoming aroused as he climbed inside the car, settling into the spot between her legs.

She reached out for his robe and tugged him forward. He reached up and brushed her soft strands of hair away from her shoulder, then let his hand slide to the nape of her neck to grip on it. She pushed out her chest, silently begging for his eyes to drop down and admire her. “You caught me…” she trailed off, feeling a tingle run down her spine when his gloved fingers brushed against her scalp.

“I did…” he teased, tugging her hair. She gasped softly, her thighs twitching to shut when she felt the pressure in her skull run dully to her clit.

The darkness made everything better. She could hear his breathing, her own just as quick as his.

“Are you ready for your first birthday gift?” He asked, disappointingly untangling his fingers from her hair to slide his gloved fingers teasingly down her neck, to the strap of her bra.

She shivered and bit her lip, felt her nipples tightening against the lace of her bra as her fingers slid down the front of her strap. “I thought this morning… with the crepes and with the way that you—”

“Well, this is gonna be your first gift of the night,” he interrupted her, sounding smug. Slowly, Dean slid his hand beneath the strap to drag it off her shoulder, and kept his hand there to push her down onto her back.

“How many gifts do you have for me?” She asked, watching him tilt his head thoughtfully.

“How old are you?” He asked rhetorically as he lifted her thighs above his.

She stared at the mask covering Dean’s face with confusion, then it twisted into incredulity. The soft material of his gloves slid up her sides teasingly, then right back down to playfully snap the garter she was wearing against her soft skin.

“You look so fucking hot, baby,” he groaned, hands sliding slowly over her belly, up her ribs, then coming together over her lace-covered breasts. He squeezed them playfully, felt her thighs become tense against his, and heard her breath hitch softly. “Was that fun?” He asked quietly, pulling the cup of her bra down, she inhaled shakily and whispered a ‘yes’.

Gently, he brushed his thumbs around her nipples, one uncovered and the other still safe inside the lace cup. Still, she felt a tingly sensation spark up on her breasts and between her legs. She murmured his name and arched her back slightly, reaching between her legs to grab his waist.

“I haven’t made you cum like this enough times, have I, sweetheart?” He gently rolled her nipples between his fingers and pinched them, slowly teasing, building up the arousal. She looked at him, face covered in a mask, but there was something so arousing about the darkness, the car, his hands on her chest, the material of his gloves creating a perfect sensation… about wearing the lingerie he bought for her, hearing his ragged breaths moggling with hers, occasional gasps and quiets moans filled up the backseat.

“We never have time…” she agreed, dazed with the yearning. She squirmed, wanting to feel more, but instead of removing his gloves he lowered the other cup and played with them both, used the same techniques to erect them and make her feel desperate, kindling her orgasm.

“Please,” she moaned, fingers wrapping around his wrist and tugging up.

“What?” He asked softly, playfully exasperated by her grip. He knew what she wanted as she searched for the edge of the cuff and began tugging downwards.

“I want to feel you,” she murmured, thumbs gently brushing over his pulse point where she could feel his heartbeat thrumming swiftly against the pads of her fingers.

“I thought you liked the feeling like this…” he murmured, removing one hand from her chest and sliding the other upwards to teasingly squeeze her neck. He teased her clit over the lace of her underwear with gloved fingers, her breath catching and barely moving past his gentle grip on her neck.

The teasing didn’t last and neither did the fuzzy breathlessness of his grip on her neck. He removed his gloves quickly and ghosted his fingers sensually up her body again, showing her the feel of his warm, calloused hands on her flushed skin.

She hummed softly, almost a pur, and placed her smaller hands above his, squirming as she attempted to hurry his hands. He only laughed at her attempts, ignored her little whine, and slid his hand under the baby blue bra. He lifted the lacey bra up her chest slowly, so the lace would teasingly brush against her sensitive nipples, and then made an arch over her cleavage.

Her gently used his thumbs to rub the underside of her breasts first, building up the feeling of his warm palm before cupping her breasts. With a gentle squeeze of her breasts, he murmured little praises to her, and tapped around her nipples.

She wiggled impatiently, her excitement growing by the second, heat rising from head to toe like conduction from the warmth of his teasing fingers. The little taps slowly moved inwards, it was gentle, and felt so good, but she wanted more. No amount of squirming from her made Dean accelerate his touch, minute by minute, he kept with the same technique, and finally switched to rubbing her nipple, pinching, twisting..

“More, Dean…” she whined, feeling irritated at being on the edge of her orgasm, like a wave that never came.

“Like what?” He asked playfully, tweaking her nipples to shut her up half way through her ‘fuck you’. Her knees pressed into his sides needily, her back was arched again and he rolled his eyes in amusement when she reached up to his face to pull off the mask. “Tell me first,” he murmured, leaning backwards, getting away from her hands.

“I need…” she laughed softly, “your mouth.”

“Good girl,” he praised tenderly, moving one hand away from her breast.

He moved the mask out of the way with one hand and leaned down over her body to flick his tongue against her nipple a few times. Her knees pressed harder into his sides and she moaned loudly, hands sliding into the hood of his cloak to grip his hair tightly. He wrapped his lips around her nipple, teeth pressing roughly around her flesh, tongue lapping at the hardened bud, and made his cheeks hollow as he sucked harshly, pinching her other nipple roughly with his hand.

Finally, she orgasmed, groaning out a long fuck as she shivered and pulled his face closer to her chest. It wasn’t nearly as intense as if he’d stimulated her clit or any of the spots inside her vagina, but it felt amazing nonetheless.

He smirked against her chest and waited for her body to relax before he pulled away from her chest with an obscenely wet sound and lowered the mask again. He rubbed her hips comfortingly and squeezed her flesh.

“You’ve got some real talent with that tongue of yours and those fingers,” she told him breathlessly, sitting up to wrap her arms around his neck.

“That was more than clear to me this morning,” he agreed with a laugh, gently running his hand up and down her back. “Hold onto me, sweetheart,” he ordered suddenly and wrapped an arm around her waist. She clung to him a little tighter and wrapped her arms around his waist as he made his way out of the backseat of the car.

When he stood straight, rather than setting her down, he kicked the door close—abandoning her heels inside, and began to walk toward the exit of the garage. He turned after a few metres and set her down onto the cold hood of the pale green car. She hissed softly at the coldness of the metal against her skin and let go of him to stare so the confusions into the darkness where Dean was standing.

“Can’t carry me anymore?” She teased, biting her lip.

“You’re really gonna be mean to me?” He snorted, dropping his hands to her thighs to play with the little, light blue bow on her long socks.

“No…” she pouted, reaching out for his hips to bring him closer. “I need you..” she whispered needily, feeling uncomfortably wet. He quietly unclipped the garter from her socks, gently trailed his fingers above the soft hem of them to get to the other side and do the same. Excitement began creeping up in her again and she bit her lip.

Languidly, he slid his hands up her thighs, snapped the waistband of her underwear and trailed his fingers over her pelvis. He hooked his finger under her underwear, felt wetness as he brushed past her folds, with a little moan, he pulled her underwear to the side and thumbed between her folds to gently brush against her clit.

She gasped quietly, her arms shook the longer he teased her. Torturously, he lowered her underwear and let them stay around her parted knees. She slowly lowered herself onto her back with his hand on her ribs pushing her backwards gently.

He lifted her feet to lay fat on top of the car, staring down at her silhouette, clearly making out her lingerie. She parted her legs as far as she could with the underwear around her knees. His fingers ghosted along the inside of thighs, as he kneaded her thighs, he murmured, “one down…”

➥ standing next to you

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do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or republish my work on another platform

[mcytadventevent]

justabookworm39 is creating for Day Seven:

Prompt: Gift Exchange

Her piece is written, featuring Lizzie, Scar, and Jimmy!

Credit Links:

https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bookworm39

(Piece under the cut!)

Lizzie beamed as she opened the front door. “Hi, Scar!”

“Well, hello there!” Scar stepped inside, resting his cane against the wall so he could close his umbrella. It wasn’t quite cold enough for snow yet, so it was just a chilly, soggy rain. Not great to drive in. But a good excuse to stay inside.

Lizzie had a paint-stained blue jacket on, half-zipped, and a pair of ripped jeans. Scar recognized them as the ones she’d tore while crawling behind the bird cages at work. Evidently she didn’t care about getting them any messier.

“We’ve got everything almost set up.” Lizzie led Scar through her apartment. “Jimmy’s already looking through the ornaments, so you might wanna hurry before he picks the best ones.”

“Help?”

Both stopped in the doorway to the living room. Scar had to stifle a laugh.

Jimmy was sitting on the floor, hands and sweatshirt covered in dark green paint and a pitiful look on his face. The offending bottle was sitting on top of a loose piece of notepaper, paint still dripping down the sides.

“Jimmy–” Lizzie started. She sighed, rubbing her forehead. “It’s okay. Scar, can you pass him the paper towels? Do you have a shirt on underneath?”

Jimmy nodded. He waited for Scar to hand him the paper towel roll, wiping his hands before he peeled his sweatshirt off. Lizzie took the paint-stained bundle–with a few more fingerprints from what was left on his hands–and hurried off to the washing machine.

“Bad start,” Jimmy muttered.

“D’aw, don’t worry.” Scar patted Jimmy on the back as he sat down. “It’s not the dumbest thing I’ve seen. Why, I once had to help Lizzie rinse glitter out of her eye.”

“I heard that!”

Scar snickered to himself, and Jimmy grinned.

“Now,” Scar continued. His voice dropped, and he whispered, “I know you weren’t just looking for a present for Grian the other day.”

The tiny wings framing Jimmy’s face fluttered nervously. “What do you mean?”

“You wanted to get Lizzie something, didn’t you?”

Jimmy froze for a moment, eyes wide. Then he leaned in and hissed, “Don’t tell her, alright?!”

“Alright, alright, don’t worry.” Scar tilted his head. “Though I think it’s gonna be a little hard with her sitting here.”

“Yeah, I’ll… I’ll figure it out.” Jimmy waved his hand dismissively.

“Any ideas?”

“No.” Jimmy sounded in pain as he grabbed the cardboard box sitting across from them. “There’s too many options! And I’ve never done this before, and I want to get it right!”

Tipping the box, Scar saw the haul of do-it-yourself Christmas ornaments. Lizzie was the sort to hoard holiday crafts and decor as they went out-of-season and dropped in price. She still had a massive tote bag of tiny foam pumpkins she’d bought three years ago. So when he’d bumped into the two at the craft store, trying to find something Jimmy could buy or make for his older brother, Scar had asked if Lizzie still had any Christmas stuff.

She most certainly did. There were several different shapes, sizes, and materials–wood, ceramic, paper mache; some were flat, and others were three-dimensional shapes; they ranged from simple circles to full silhouetted scenes…

Yeah. Scar understood the overwhelm. Especially for someone who’d just now heard of Christmas. Thank the stars she hadn’t picked up anything new.

Lizzie reentered the room, dusting her hands off. “Alright, gave that a quick soak to get the paint loose, and it should all wash out!”

Jimmy was still staring down the box of ornaments. Lizzie hummed with concern. “Tell you what: there’s a buncha wooden snowflakes in there. I was thinking about using them to spruce up Critter City for the holidays, if you want to start by decorating those? Just as a warm-up?”

“Really?” Jimmy looked up. “I mean– y’know, I don’t wanna take your whole stash, but…” He trailed off, while Lizzie plopped down on the floor next to him.

“It’s not a big deal! I might never have gotten around to painting all of ‘em myself anyways.” Lizzie dug through the box, eventually retrieving a plastic pack with a dozen ornaments. There was no hole to thread a hanger through, but a bundle of silver cord was included in the package.

“Alright then!” Jimmy took the package from Lizzie, while Lizzie laid out a few paper plates as rests and palettes.

“I’ve got a ton of different paints here,” Lizzie explained. “Plus I’ve got a few funky top-coats?”

“Like what?” Jimmy asked.

“Well, this stuff has glitter in it; these reflect different colors depending on what angle you hold it–though it really only works on dark colors–I’ve got this really cool stuff with the holo flecks in it…”

Scar, meanwhile, just grabbed the first thing his hand found in the box. He ended up with a diamond shape made from paper mache, a gold thread loop sticking out the top. He grabbed a few bottles of blue paint, a paper plate, and a brush.

Really, he was just here for the company. He liked Lizzie’s idea of decorating the small-animals hall at the gardens they worked for, but he didn’t want to step in the middle of her project. (Even though she was letting Jimmy do exactly that.) And between the disability, the cat, and the living-alone-thing, Scar didn’t really do all that much for the holidays at home.

It was fine! He wouldn’t say it was a sore spot for him. He just didn’t see the reason for him, specifically, to go through all the effort when it was just himself and Jellie. So it wasn’t like he had anywhere to put Christmas ornaments.

But he didn’t mind. Half of Lizzie’s non-work friend group was out of town for December. Jimmy only had his brother and enough other friends to count on one hand. This was probably healthy for all three of them.

“Oh!” Lizzie grabbed a sponge-tipped tool from the tray with the paintbrushes. “Here, Scar. If you’re trying to get that base color down, the sponge will go faster, especially with all the flat sides.”

“Oh, thank you!” Scar dabbed the sponge in the lightest shade of blue. He figured he would alternate depending on the sides: light on the bottom and dark on the top, then dark on the bottom and light on the top…

It was a struggle, trying to hold the ornament without dropping it or smudging the paint. Partway through, Scar realized he didn’t have any way to put it down to dry. So he just held it carefully, tuning in to what the other two were doing.

Jimmy was applying a layer of gold to one of the ornaments, tongue sticking out slightly as he concentrated. Lizzie had a ceramic one shaped like a stocking, and she had several colors sitting next to her as she applied the first coat of lavender.

“Oh.” Jimmy froze mid-stroke. “Uh, Lizzie? I think I did something wrong.”

“Hm?” Lizzie leaned over, looking at the snowflake he was working on. “It looks fine, Jimmy.”

“It’s green?!”

“Yeah? Oh!” Lizzie grabbed a bottle. “You were using this stuff, right? That’s the color shift!”

“What’s that?” Jimmy’s brow was furrowed, still worried he’d made a mistake. 

“Look, if you move it back and forth–” Lizzie picked the snowflake up at the edges. Scar couldn’t really see it from where he sat, but Jimmy’s eyes widened. “It kinda switches between yellow and green! I’ve got a whole bunch of these. Most of them just have a gold flash, but there’s a few with cooler colors, too.”

“Oh my stars!” Jimmy carefully took the snowflake back, tilting it back and forth, mesmerized.

“Could you give me some of the shifty stuff, Lizzie?” Scar asked. “Maybe a few dots of that on this one…”

“Sure! Hm…” She grabbed a blue bottle with a purple sheen. “This work? It kinda matches what you had going.”

“That’s perfect!”

“Wait!” Jimmy yelled as the bottle changed hands. Scar froze with it. “Do you have anything else like that one? With the purple or the blue, or maybe a green?”

“Let’s seeeee…” Lizzie dragged the big bin of paints over.

“Grian?” Scar asked simply.

Jimmy nodded enthusiastically. “That’s definitely a ‘Grian’ thing, right?”

“You are so right. And maybe a little bit of the gold as details?”

“Yeah!”

“If you want,” Lizzie added, “Jimmy, you can grab one of the fancier snowflakes with the cut-out details for your brother. They’re a little bigger, too.”

“Yes!” Jimmy dug through the box, while Lizzie dropped a few more paint bottles by Jimmy’s knee.

“There’s a silver-to-purple and a white-to-blue. Those are probably good for the bottom coat, and then you can add the darker colors on top.”

Jimmy gasped, nearly tipping the box over into his lap. “Ooh, wait!” He balanced the box, then pulled out an ornament. His face fell as he sat back. “Aww.”

“What’s wrong?” Lizzie asked.

Jimmy held out the ornament in front of him, not looking at it. It was almost as big as Scar’s hand, with a little fan at the end of each arm. 

“It’s all bent!” Jimmy turned it over, and Scar could see how the wood curved slightly. “I can’t give him a messed-up gift.”

“Oh, I’m sure it’s fine!” Scar waved his hand. “Gives it, uh, a little bit of character.”

“That looks like one of the ones I ordered online,” Lizzie said, shaking her head. “A few of them are pretty warped. I’m sorry, Jimmy.”

“‘s fine,” Jimmy muttered, putting the ornament down next to his leg. ‘I’ll just get a different one.” He grabbed the box, scowling.

“Hm…” Scar’s eyes landed on a nearby bottle of glittery white. “Hey, Lizzie,” he asked, “what d’you think is your favorite one of all the… weird paints?”

It wasn’t particularly subtle, but it didn’t need to be if the gift-giver wasn’t the one asking.

“Oh, definitely the holographic goop.” She held a couple of bottles in one hand. “It’s supposed to be like a paint, I think, but every time I’ve bought it it’s had a real sludgy consistency. But it’s still super pretty.”

“No kidding!” Out of the corner of his eye, Scar saw Jimmy look up for a moment. “Maybe I’ll use some of that on my next one…”

“Hey, guys?” Jimmy’s voice was small, but both humans immediately turned to him. His hands were still in the box, wings fluttering nervously. He gulped and mumbled, “Do y’think it’d really be okay?”

“Would what be okay?” Scar asked.

Lizzie smiled sweetly. “To use the warped ornament? Of course! Grian’s just gonna be happy to get a gift for you.”

Jimmy hid his eyes behind his wings.

“And I really do think Grian would find it neat,” Scar added.

“Yeah! And besides, it’s not fair to leave that little guy out just because he’s a little crooked, right?”

“Huh.” Jimmy shuffled around in the box, eventually pulling out a few more. “All three of these are also bent. Is it– Can I just paint all of them?”

“Go for it!” Lizzie said. Jimmy smiled as she added, “Do you need more paint for all of those? Fresh water?”

“A new cup of water would be nice,” Jimmy said.

Lizzie nodded, climbing to her feet. As soon as she left sight, Jimmy picked out one of the handful of warped snowflakes and held it out to Scar. It had a particularly crystal-like design, ending in diamond-shaped points on every arm.

Jimmy didn’t say a word, but Scar nodded enthusiastically. He could tell who it was for. Jimmy beamed, wrapping that snowflake in a paper towel and tucking it behind the box, just out of sight of Lizzie’s spot.

---

“Hm. Lizzie?”

“I didn't put those there.”

“That’s what I thought.”

The staff of Flower Fields Botanical Gardens had already done their annual gift exchange. Scar was tucking his various goodies into his bag, while Lizzie was snacking on the white chocolate-and-raspberry cookies Scar had made for her. But despite all of the staff and volunteers who'd signed up having handed out presents, there were two packages left in the break room.

Sitting on top of the coffee machine were two small drawstring bags, yellow fabric with shiny gold swirls. When Scar got closer, he could see tags with his and Lizzie's name scribbled on them, near-illegibly.

“Now, I wonder who these are from…” Lizzie sang, clearly sure who the mystery gift-giver was.

“Yeah…” Scar muttered, turning his package over. He looked up to see Lizzie grinning at him.

“You open your first,” she insisted.

“You're making it sound like a trap.” Scar fiddled with the strings, then said, “Let's open them at the same time then!”

“Works for me!”

It took a bit of fumbling to open the bag–somebody had cinched the drawstrings far tighter than was needed–but Scar eventually looped his fingers through a green ribbon. Carefully, Scar pulled his gift out of the bag.

It was a small, flat piece of wood, about the size of Scar’s palm, shaped like a gift tag and glittery red. Glued to the front was the silhouette of a cat, painted a warm off-white, pawing at a tiny star, carefully painted glittery gold. The back was painted the same red, with the gold used to draw a lopsided heart to fill the back.

“Oh, Jimmy…” Scar whispered. He cupped the ornament in his hand. There was no note from the gifter, but Scar was sure he knew who it was. He could see tiny spots where the paint had run over from the foreground pieces to the background, but it was rather well-done for a beginner. He could only imagine how hard Jimmy had worked on it.

“Scar, look!” Lizzie’s voice was an excited hiss. She was holding the exact ornament Scar had guessed Jimmy would give her. It was painted a soft pink, covered in a few layers of the holo-flake topcoat, and with a small silver rhinestone in the center. The whole thing hung from a metallic black cord, looped through one of the holes that finished each arm of the snowflake. It spun freely as Lizzie pinched the cord in her fingers, which was probably why both sides were decorated.

“Was this his plan the whole time?” Scar wondered aloud.

“Well, it was in your case!”

“Really?!”

“Yeah! That’s why he and I were at the store in the first place.” Lizzie looked over Scar’s shoulder, then smirked. “I can see you, y’know!”

Scar heard a soft chirp. He spun around, catching sight of a tiny yellow bird watching them from the outside windowsill. The bird picked up a tiny satchel in its beak and spread its wings.

“Now hold on!” Scar yelled after the bird, who took off as quickly as he was spotted.

Lizzie laughed. “Aw, c’mon. Probably out by the plum tree, right?”

“Yeah, that’s one of his favorite spots.” Scar grabbed his jacket, buttoning it halfway as he flung the door open.

They found not a bird, but a young man under the branches of the big plum tree outside the main building. Judging by the way he wobbled, Jimmy has just retaken his human form. He rubbed the back of his neck, watching as the two of them approached. “You like ‘em?”

“You little rascal– of course we like them!” Scar threw his arms around Jimmy, earning a startled cheep as they swayed back and forth.

“These are so sweet!” Lizzie swung hers a bit, watching as the glitter caught the afternoon sun. “When’d you even get this done?”

“Well, I had to be sneaky ‘bout it!” Jimmy said, smiling as Scar put him down.

Lizzie had helped Jimmy thin the holo-goop to a paintable state with some varnish, but seemingly hadn’t given a second thought to where he planned to use it. Not that Scar could judge–he didn’t even remember seeing anything with a cat on it!

“We maaay have actually picked up a few things at the craft store,” Lizzie said. She must’ve seen, either now or a moment ago, Scar confusion. “He flew back in late that night to work on yours.”

“I kinda wanted to paint it to look like Jellie,” Jimmy added softly. “But I didn’t want to mess it up. Maybe next time?”

“It’s still adorable either way, big man!” Scar poked Jimmy’s cheek, earning a tiny smile. He stepped back, cane jingling as it tapped the pathway.

Jimmy's eyes darted down, and he gasped and leaned in towards Scar's cane. “What's this?!”

He was staring at the little, ornate key-shaped charm hanging on the loop that attached the wrist strap. Lizzie had specifically chosen it on the grounds that it was both durable enough to get whacked around and small enough to not be distracting or intrusive.

“Oh, this?” Scar glanced to the side. “I think someone else would do a better job explaining, right?” As he said that, Lizzie dug through her purse for the right bag.

Jimmy didn't seem to notice at first, tilting his head and looking at Scar like a confused puppy.

“Surprise!”

Jimmy startled, jumping back upright as Lizzie yelled. She held out a small paper gift bag with tissue peeking out the top. “Happy holidays, Jimmy!”

Jimmy took it slowly, unsurely. He reached into the bag, picking through until he pulled out Lizzie’s gift. It was a heart-shaped bottle filled with tiny dark purple-and-pink beads. As Jimmy turned it over, Scar could see sparkly white pompoms, like clouds against a sunset. The stopper had a short gold chain attached, ending in a clasp big enough to secure it to Jimmy’s bag.

“You said anything on the outside of your bag shrinks with it,” Lizzie said. “So that should fit whether you’re walking or flying with it!”

“I…” Jimmy ran the chain through his fingers, watching the charm sway and shimmer. He seemed entranced for a moment, before he cupped the charm in his palm and held it to his chest. He smiled at Lizzie, eyes shimmering as if he might cry. “Thank you! Thank you so much!”

“Aw, I’m glad you like it!” Lizzie threw her arms around Jimmy’s shoulders. With his hands full, Jimmy just leaned into the hug, nuzzling his face against her scarf. She giggled and ruffled his hair.

Scar had stepped away to give the two some space, but they were pulled out of it by beat-up rubber hitting cold asphalt. Lizzie stepped back, dramatically rolling her eyes and saying, “Yeah, yeah, you’re on your way to one-up me, aren’t you?!”

“I’m not trying to one-up you–” Scar yelled, waving his cane in mock-annoyance.

“You brought food!”

“And you brought sparkly things! I think we’re keeping pretty good pace!”

Lizzie giggled. “Come on, Jimmy,” she said. “Scar has something for you too!”

“He does?” Jimmy sounded in disbelief. Scar paused in the parking lot, looking back. Lizzie was already jogging to catch up, while he could faintly make out the delicate way Jimmy lowered the charm back into its bag and took both handles in one hand.

The trio caught up behind Scar’s station wagon, where he popped the trunk open. It was cold enough that Scar didn't have to worry about things melting, even locked in his car all day, so everyone’s presents rode around with him until he had a chance to hand them out.

He pawed through the giant tote bag. There were only a few boxes left, including the ones for the fae brothers. He grabbed the one decorated with poinsettias and stepped away from the trunk.

“I wasn't super-sure what kind of sweets you like, and I didn't want anything that might hurt your little bird tummy–I couldn't use chocolate so you didn't get a hot chocolate bomb, I could've bought apple cider mix but it probably would've had the wrong cinnamon so I ended up making that from scratch so I hope it's alright–”

“Oh my gosh!” Scar had handed over the box without noticing, and Jimmy was fumbling to hold and dig through it at the same time. He finally looped one arm under the bottom, picking up the pack of strawberry-oatmeal cookies with the other hand. He moved to hug the box to his chest, Lizzie’s gift bag still hanging from his fingers and a twinkle in his eye. “Thank you thank you–!”

“Of course, buddy!” Scar beamed as he closed the trunk. He wondered about giving Jimmy the one for Grian as well, but decided he wanted to see Grian's reaction in person.

Jimmy took the lid back from Lizzie, who'd taken it while he was juggling the box. He replaced it and rested his chin on the box, smiling. “Man, you guys…!” His bottom lip trembled, and he turned away.

“Oh, Jim!” Scar stepped forward, putting a hand on Jimmy’s shoulder. Lizzie rubbed Jimmy’s back, while Jimmy took a deep breath.

“Sorry, sorry, just…” Jimmy looked up at the sky, clearly trying to hold back sniffles. “Y’know, I’ve been given things before, but it’s never been part of this whole organized… thing, right? This– this feels special.”

“Yeah, I guess you wouldn’t have done most human holidays, would you?” Lizzie rubbed her chin. “D’you guys do birthdays? Do fairies even have birthdays?”

“Not as far as I know,” Jimmy said. “Guess I could ask Gr– Wait!” He twisted his body, trying to swing his little brown satchel to his front. “I gotta get back home before Grian’s done running errands! I wanted to have his waiting for him, but it’s still in my bag!”

“Well, hey!” Scar shook his keys. “Me and Lizzie are almost done, and I’ve gotta drop off my present for your brother too.”

“Besides,” Lizzie added, “I don’t think that box is gonna fit in your little magic bag.”

“Yeeeah, good point.” Jimmy drummed his fingers on the side of the box. “Do you wanna come with, Lizzie? I know you’ve never seen where Grian and I live; he gets picky about havin’ guests over, but he knows you’re alright, so it shouldn’t be a problem…”

“Yeah!” Scar clapped Lizzie on the back. “Now it’s your turn to fall into the tree!”

“Tree? What tree? You guys live in a tree?”

Jimmy nodded.

“Like in a fairy way or in a bird way?”

“Wanna find out?” Scar didn’t wait for an answer, just hurrying to open the back door of his car. “Go ahead and drop those in the seat, Jim. Lizzie and I have gotta finish closing up, gotta make sure the animals are fed, then we can head over to your place, alright?”

“Sounds good to me!” Jimmy carefully shoved the box into the backseat, then placed the paper bag next to it. He stood up, stretched, then cleared his throat. “And, uh, Lizzie,” he muttered, half-heartedly hiding his mouth with his hand, “If you need a hand with the critters–”

“Well, look at that!” Lizzie grinned in a way that made Jimmy visibly flinch. “You finally ready to go say ‘hi’ to Stew?”

“No no no no!” Jimmy yelled before the question was finished. “Not– not today! But… I think I can help with the stoats? Maybe?”

“Alright, alright…” Lizzie scoffed as she and Jimmy crossed the parking lot. “You know a fox can’t eat you at this size, right?”

“It’s the principle of the thing!

“He’s gonna stay in his hutch the whole time–”

“See, that’s what he wants you to think!”

Scar chuckled, shaking his head. He took a moment to check the sky–daylight was fading, and clouds were starting to form. Best they finish soon and hit the road before the weather got ugly.

All in all, though, he’d call ‘Project: Baby (Bird)’s First Christmas’ a roaring success.

[blondeewhorre]

Just For You

Sanji's story about being in love with you

(Here is Sanji’s version! Lol…Anyways, I also did his story based off a song…cuz I love music. It’s good.👍🏽 Just down below. Still takes place after Whole Cake Island and SPOILERS if you squint enough.)

Your story

The day Sanji fell in love with you was the day his world began to turn once again on it’s axel. Oh yes, he loved you so very much that it would have hurt, if it didn’t bring him such joy. Everything about you just brightened his day, your beaming smile, your soft voice and gentle words, the fact you didn’t beat him black and blue the way Nami did whenever he got a little too carried away with his affection.

So why couldn’t things ever go the way he so desires? Sure, he was a big goofy flirt but sometimes he couldn’t help himself, he just had to let every woman know just how beautiful they are but in his heart…none of them, not a single one, compared to you. You held his heart in the palm of your hands, had him wrapped around not just one finger, but all of them and you were none the wiser of just how much control you held over him.

It was a wonder how you hadn’t notice just how whipped this man is for you, just how oblivious could you get? It was literally written all over his face just how much this man loves you. He would stare at you longer than necessary, not even bothering to look away when you catch him watching—no matter how embarrassed he felt—as you went about your day. He especially loved watching you as you became so immersed while drawing, painting everything that caused you wonder and fascination, you were most beautiful during those times.

His rapt attention to every word that spilled past those pretty lips of yours was another hint to his already obvious affection towards you. He would subconsciously lean over the island, closer to you, as if he couldn’t hear you as went on and on about the food back home, in your home country you missed so dearly. How could you not see it even when he would make that very same dish the very next day? How he would have his eyes on you once more as you thanked him profusely, eyes glittering with emotion as you ate everything off the plate?

Yet, he wanted to forget it all, to erase that smile of yours from his mind, and not remember the way you’d talk to him so sweetly in that sleepy little voice of yours as you kept him company every morning when he began cooking up breakfast for the whole crew. He knew you weren’t a morning person, having been a witness to you waking up at noon everyday before you started joining him in the kitchen.

Little things like these are what made him hope that maybe he had a chance with you, that it wasn’t so hopeless for him to get the woman of his dreams even though he felt that he did not deserve you in any way. It got especially worse after he had to leave with his family, or at least his blood related one. Oh how it hurt, how much agony it brought him when he had to leave everything that made him happy behind…when he had to leave you, his dream behind.

It hurt so much that he placed all his hopes on being able to live a somewhat happy life on Pudding. All of it was crushed…demoralized, almost as if he wasn’t meant to be happy in this life. How he missed you so during those times, when his whole life came crumbling beneath his feet and leaving him feeling so worthless…so utterly worthless. His tears were bitter, his anguish mixing in with the pouring rain as even the rain robbed him of his one time to just cry it all out.

But after everything he did to his friends, his captain, and to you, he knew it was the last thing he could ever have. He would ruin you, ruin your life like he has with others, and how he couldn’t be your love. It only left him being able to hope that you could have the life you deserve, that you can be happy, even if it meant a happy life without him because now…it would not mattered if he disappeared, no one here would notice. You were simply too far away for him now.

The world was just out to get him since from the day he came into it. Every good thing he had in life, he simply wasn’t allowed to keep, his mother, his sister, Pudding for a good moment, his friends…you. You were all he could think about as he wept hat night, listening to Pudding’s harsh words, your comforting words replaying in his mind whenever he was feeling down and the way you caressed his face, his hair whenever he needed it…like now, but you weren’t there. Not even the lighter wanted to offer him momentary solace, it was what lead to his breaking point, that little push to the edge was all he needed.

Which only left him feeling all the more grateful to be back on Thousand Sunny, with his friends and of course, you. He was glad everyone was willing to forgive him (of course, he did receive a good punch from Luffy, payback for disrespecting his captain), but he was especially happy when you were the first to welcome him back with open arms, hugging him so tight, he couldn’t breathe but he felt like he just wasn’t getting enough. He just wanted to forget the pain that the days on Whole cake brought him and never again wish to forget you.

He smiles softly to himself as he watches you from afar, sitting by your lonesome as you watched the horizon of the ocean beyond, picking at the pie he had given you just moments ago. He let out a small and shaky sigh as he set the tray aside after having served Robin and Nami their drinks, now making his way up the stairs leading up to the tangerine trees, where you sat solemnly and lost in thought.

“What’s wrong?” He spoke before he could even think, almost offering you a penny for your thoughts, wanting to know everything going through that mind of yours, to know what has you looking so worried. “Hm…” Is the only response he gets back from you in that moment, his heart sinking when you don’t even bother to look at him. He almost contemplates leaving you alone to your thoughts but before he could, you speak up again.

“Just have a lot on my mind.” His heart began to race, fighting back a smile, as he takes your words as an invitation to stay. He immediately grabs the free chair, the one other chair beside you on the little circular table you were eating on, or picking at your pie on. Once he was fully seated, he leaned in slightly, unable to help the desire of close proximity before speaking again himself.

“I’m all ears, mademoiselle.” He says with a gentle smile that he could only seem to give to you, and only you. He watched you with rapt attention as you silently contemplate, going from picking at your pie to holding your hot cup of coffee in both of your palms and staring into the cup. Why won’t you look at him? He could feel a small sense of panic rise from the pits of his stomach before his heart jumped at the sound of your tender voice.

“I’m glad you’re back.” The familiar warmth he always got whenever he is with you began to spread throughout his chest, that smile he couldn’t seem to control spreading across his face, his gaze softening as he continue staring at you. “I’m glad to be back.” He could see it on your face again, that strange and pained expression you sometimes made around him, it made his heart ache all over again, not understanding why you make such an expression whenever he was around.

He continues to watch you, his gaze going over to where yours is currently, landing on the black leather sketchbook you always seemed to carry with you. Curiosity piqued, mostly because no one had ever seen what exactly you drew in it, he opens his mouth before he could even think. “May I look through it?” He wanted to take the small chance that you just might let him be the first to finally be able to see what special things you hid in those pages

“Oh…um…” His heart was racing in anticipation, gaze going from your tapping fingers to your face, constantly, unable to choose on what to focus on more. “Yes, I guess you can look through it.” You sounded tired, you look tired, exhausted even as you slide the sketchbook over to him, a smile making his way to his face once again. He opens his mouth to thank you but you were already standing and walking away before he could.

His heart shattered, he was pretty use to it by now, though it didn’t make it hurt any less. With a defeated sigh, he reached to run the tips of his fingers over the leather cover, admiring the texture for a bit before finally opening it to it’s first official page. To say he was surprised would be an understatement of the century when he was met with a beautiful but light sketch of himself, leaning over the railing of Going Merry as he mindlessly puffed out wisps of smoke and stared out into the ocean.

His heart throbbed, blood rushing loudly in his ears as he turned to the next page, met with more sketches of him in various situations and doing various things. Such as, close ups of him glaring at certain ingredients, moving about in the kitchen, fighting with Zoro, and several of them also being of him just smiling while doing a variety of different things. The ones that had his heart hammering in his chest being the ones where you were drawing his face, just his face, in intricate details.

Hell, you even even added splashes of color to certain details, such as his eyes, his hair, sometimes the different clothes he wore, but he also noticed how you couldn’t get enough of his hands. These were the simpler ones—though there was nothing simple about them—while the otherw involved him doing things. It was a wonder when you had the time to take him in in such great detail, such as the ones involving him fighting, shopping, even more detailed ones of him cooking, him playing with everyone on the ship, while others made him blush as they involved him sleeping on the island and sitting on a stool, and others of his intimate little interactions with you, like kissing the back of your hand.

He releases another shaky little breath as he finally flips the last page, now staring at the back of it and making his heart drop. There was no mistaking that it still involved him, but it also involved Pudding, the two of whom shared what seemed to be an emotional and intimate moment as they kissed. It was enough to have him question many things as he abruptly stood up with the sketchbook in hand and rushed after you. He catches you just in time as you’re about to enter the kitchen, gently but firmly grabbing your arm.

“Wait.” His voice sounded almost pleading as he tried to coax you into turning around to face him. “Your drawings…” His heart hurt. He didn’t know what to make of it…couldn’t understand what it meant exactly. “They’re all of…me” You respond quickly at his realization. “Um…yes…they’re all you.” He feels like his world is now lighter, his hopes at being able to have what he feels he’ll never deserve, but then he remembers the last page involving him and Pudding.

“And this one…why is…why am I…” You were making that pained expression again as you hand him the empty plate that once held your pie and take the sketchbook from his hands, studying it closely for a while. “Stolen memories.” Was that really all you were going to give him? Especially when you keep making that expression? “I just…I’m trying to understand though, my lady. What does it all exactly mean?” He doesn’t remember this at all, and why on earth would you draw him like this? This is honestly something he didn’t like seeing. It made him feel like you didn’t really like him like he hoped you would.

“It’s my love…” You finally hand the sketchbook back to him, finally looking at him as you do. “I want you to have it.” Oh, the way his heart throbbed painfully once more, leaving him unable to resist wrapping his arms around you so tightly, enough that he knew he was probably hurting you and on any other day, he probably would have stopped and apologized over and over again. He held onto you for dear life because in his sparsed world, you would disappear.

He finally, but with great reluctance, lets go of you and gives you a small and confused smile, unable to no longer hold back just how deeply his affections for you are. He couldn’t help the need to touch you any longer, reaching up to caress your face, to hold your face in his palms as tenderly as he could muster while simultaneously leaning in, his hopes running high as his gaze goes back and forth from your eyes and your lips. “You are my reason for the strength I found to keep going…even when I had hit my lowest.” Don’t cry, don’t shed tears for him, he did not deserve them, and he couldn’t stand the way your lips quivered and your eyes glistened with unshed tears.

But goodness, did he love you. “I love you.” He couldn’t contain it anymore, allowing those three little words to slip past his lips as he held back his own tears once you began to quietly sob. He couldn’t resist anymore, especially with the way you clung to him, grasped at his shirt as he leaned the rest of the way in and pressed his lips to yours. Your salty tears on your lips only add to the already emotional and intimate moment as he engraves all these details in his mind, never wanting to forget this moment. You are now his.

His love.

[lucrativesoul]

Divine Beings

summary: your new job at the town's old mansion-museum is a dream, but it's even more so to be working within its centuries old library. this building is fueled by the ancient lore of the undead walking the halls. it's all just tales, right? your archive master and new boss, Leon, knows all about those divine beings.

pairing: leon kennedy x female reader

word count: 13.0k

warnings: smut, borderline public sex (no voyeurism), blood ingestion

a/n: i can't begin to tell you guys how excited i am to be posting this. consider this my halloween gift, but we all know the darker genres are not just for the season! I had so much fun writing this. diving head first into this has really helped me through this rough time in my life situationships are hell and if no one got me at least leon got me :') (and u guys ofc) thank you so much for stopping by and reading, i really really hope you enjoy, and I promise to be back soon with another one. <3

“It won’t be too much of a challenge.” The soft voice coming from the woman in front of you bounced off the walls and high ceilings, making her even harder to decipher than she was in the first place. “All questions about the archive can be redirected to the master archivist, and I’m sure sooner or later you will be retaining all of that important information.”

You said nothing as you followed her down the hall, the click of your heels ever prominent amongst the deserted expanse. For a mansion built hundreds of years ago, they did well to keep it tidy and up to standard. You were impressed.

At the end of the long hall, yellow from the lamps glittering in intervals in the hall, you could see a grand set of large mahogany doors, intricately carved with inlays that you can only imagine must have taken just as long to complete as the residence itself. The initial nerves of the morning were gone, and now you were just more excited than anything to be able to enter one of the oldest libraries in a hundred mile radius, and now you work here. 

The smaller lady who was guiding you, whose name you have already forgotten, leaned all her weight on the doors and pushed both of them inward, the two slabs of wood swinging open revealing possibly your most anticipated sight of your life.

The entryway was one tiny landing, with large staircases birthing off the sides to your left and right, making a gentle curve to the main floor. The walls, well, simply put, there were no walls, rather everything that would have been a wall was lined floor to ceiling with bookshelves, each one packed with differing widths, heights, colors of books, paperback, leather, hardcover, fabric. In the middle of the room were more free standing shelves, still packed to the brim, and the occasional long wooden table with seats scattered about the room. Directly opposite the entryway was a large window, facing the front of the mansion, and it served as the main attractor to the building. Rectangular at the bottom, it shaped off at the top, nearly fifty feet high, in a gothic style pointed arch, nestled gently in between two, much skinnier, similarly shaped windows, which were fixed off at the top with stained glass, giving the brown room rays of color on the sunny days.

You stepped forward, and having seemingly expected this reaction, your guide didn’t say a word for a moment while you took in your grand view. You almost couldn’t speak. It was more than you were expecting. It was everything.

Though it was a sunny day, you already found yourself anticipating the oncoming bad weather, knowing the treacherous drive through the rain would be so worth it to be here on a rainy day.

“Let’s go down to the archive office.” The woman’s tone was gentle, knowing you most likely would not have moved from your spot if she didn’t push you along. You followed her down the left staircase.

There were a few stragglers in the grand room. The manion’s open hours were not near close yet, but you were surprised there weren’t more people here at this hour. You doubted that it had anything to do with the age old rumors about the estate, there was no way people truly kept away because of those tall tales. 

After coming off the staircase, you craned your neck up high, reveling in the surrounding papers and scrolls adorning the walls. You tried your best to keep up with the woman while also having your attention diverted, but had to fully look down when she ducked into a corridor below the main landing. 

This hallway was plain and simple, and you felt your resolve slowly crumble away as you remembered why you were here–a job. 

“The furthest of my knowledge is to bring you into the archive office and wait for the master archivist to meet you here. If you want to take a seat, he should be here shortly. Welcome to the museum crew.” She smiled at you, and after a thank you, you pulled out the seat in front of the desk and sat down. Alone in the room now, you turned your head to look at the surroundings, trying to gauge what type of environment this would be.

Despite your history in the field, you were still surprised when you got a call back wanting to have an interview, and when that went well and you were hired a week later, shock still warmed your body, paired with the growing excitement when you realized you would be working in the epicenter of your old town’s rich history museum and archive, and the home of all the town’s tall tales.

With all your years of studying classic literature spinning the yarn of mythical creatures, it was a no brainer when you saw this opportunity present itself. 

You jumped in your chair when your name was spoken in a low rasp. You turned around briskly.

“I’m sorry, you startled me.” You stood in an instant, extending your hand, ready to introduce yourself, but it appeared the stranger already knew who you were.

“It’s alright, many say I have that effect.” You sat down at his gesture to do so, and he walked around the opposite side of the bland, deep wooden desk. This man, instantly captivating, wore a simple white button down with a crisp black vest over top. He had a wiry pair of glasses tucked into the collar, where the top button lay opened. His hair was a dirty blonde, browning at the roots. The sharp contours of his face showed years of experience, and you caught no air of uncertainty from the way he presented himself. Intrigued would be an understatement.

“Did our lobby host introduce you well? I know one walk down the foyer isn’t nearly a fraction of the time needed to look around, but, maybe it gave a taste to what’s to come.”

You nodded gently, your eyes still trained on his face. “Oh, yes, she most definitely let me take it in for a moment. I can’t wait to know everything better.”

He nodded, shifting through a folder and some papers. You were almost embarrassed at how you couldn’t take your eyes away from him, not even for a second, hoping the staring would come second to whatever information he was about to share with you. 

“What drew you here? It’s quite tucked away.” He was still not looking at you, so you made no move to avert your own gaze.

“Well,” You began, taking a second to form a proper sentence. “I’ve always wanted to work in a grand archive like this one. It is just so full of new opportunities, new experiences. I’ve always loved this place.”

He nodded. “I felt the same as well. I wish I could tell you how swelled I was when I walked in here the first time, but it was so long ago, I barely remember it. Anyway,” He studied the paper intensely, then looked back up at you. You felt heated suddenly. “You had a pretty extensive background in literary culture, criticism, and classic studies. You were with a publishing branch for a few years?”

You nodded. “It didn’t pan out to my hopes, and I jumped at this chance when I saw they were on the hunt for a new archivist.”

He hummed. “I was. I was looking for someone new. Our last had left us suddenly, we had a vacancy.” You nodded again, the innate curiosity taking over about the ex-archivist. “So, you understand the majority of your job title, yes?” Nodded again, but said nothing so he could continue. “Basically, working side by side with me, the better half of our tasks will unfortunately be rearranging once the public comes through, they tend to leave things everywhere, I’m sure you know, and the other half is once our doors are closed, we do many of the repairs on the classics, restocking our souvenir books, and the tedious paperwork that comes along with the museum establishment.”

For a final time, you nodded. “I’m greatly looking forward to it.” 

Now, he looked into your eyes, and he tilted his head gently forward. “I’m greatly looking forward to you joining us. As of right now, it’s just me and one other, so now it’s three.”

You smiled, then it faltered a moment once you remembered something. “I’m sorry, I don’t know if you said your name.”

His lopsided grin painted a picture in your mind that you knew you would be seeing even when you closed your eyes. “Leon Kennedy. Master archivist.”

–

You hadn’t imagined you would live to see a day when you were looking forward to stepping into your place of work, but this had proven you wrong. You were motivated by the mere thought of being surrounded by all the books and pages, all the knowledge you could possibly dream about, learning something new every day.

But, you knew secretly since starting, you would be lying to yourself if you denied the effect that Leon had on your willingness to come in everyday. He greeted you with gentleness, and you couldn't help but always match his energy when you walked into the office in the morning hours. Always spotting the grin on his face at the sight of you as well. It grew to a blazing heat in your chest to see this reaction.

There was a routine you followed with great ease after only a week. It truly was the most of what Leon had said it would be, and to your own surprise, when curious visitors asked about the archive’s collections, you picked up on the correct answers faster than you had expected.

One of your favorite end of day tasks, oddly enough, was replacing the books that visitors had taken off the shelves to browse. It exposed you to so much literature and titles that you had or hadn’t heard of, and gave you a better idea of the archive itself, and its shelf locations. There was nothing more relaxing in your life than admiring the centuries of artform adoring these bookcases.

Here, you found yourself sliding leather bounds back into their places, reveling at every cover for as long as you could get away with, feeling the slick material slide under your fingers as you pushed them into their homes on the shelves. Taking two steps forward, looking down at the engraving in the cover, embossed in golden letters, you startle when you knock into something hard, grip hardening on the book so as not to drop or damage it.

“I’m so sorry, Leon. I didn’t even hear you coming. Very quiet.” He looked down at you, his deep black shirt sucking the color out of everything around him. An amused expression danced on his features.

“So people have told me. I was trying to find you earlier for a question, but you’ve eluded me for the last thirty minutes.”

You smiled gently, but had to avert your eyes down to the books you were still caressing, lest your eyes should wander over the fabric stretched thin over his upper arms. You did not need this mental image lasting with you for who knows how long.

“Sorry for that, but, here I am. What’s up?” 

Leon, so you have come to the conclusion, is much different than any overseer of a job you have had in the past. HIs gentle authoritative style pushed you in the correct direction he wanted you to take as an archive employee, but he never became harsh or strict with any of his guidelines. In fact, the way he approached conversation felt much more like a casual coworker rather than a boss. 

“I had an opportunity you may be interested in. Finish your tasks here, and come up to my office. We can discuss it, I think you’ll be intrigued.”

You nodded, but grabbed his attention quickly at the notice of a small piece of information. “Wait, Leon,” He turned around at the sound of his name. “Your office? I don’t know where that is, I don't think I have been there yet.”

He nodded slowly. “Of course, I forgot. I’ll wait over by the information desk for you to finish. Don’t rush.” 

You nodded, though he had already turned around. You took an extra second to trace his path with your gaze, wondering what this tight, breathless feeling in your chest was every time he was in your presence. 

With empty hands, you stalked over to the center of the room, finding Leon’s back to you, hands shuffling through a stack of folders. He disregarded them when he heard you approach.

“Follow me.” Then, with a small impressed gesture on his face, “Faster than I expected.”

You said nothing as you followed him through the library, watching his back intently as if something were going to happen any second. Surely he could feel the way you were staring, how could he not? If this were you, you would have felt someone looking all over you.

He presented you to a discreet door tucked into the back wall of the archive, a mere few feet away from the large windows, now letting the dying sunset light in to paint the room orange. He stepped aside to let you in first, but what you were expecting to see was nowhere in sight. Instead of an office, a room, even a closet with a desk, chair, and maybe even a computer, it was a staircase. A spiral staircase at that, and it looked like it went up at least thirty feet.

“Your office is up there?” You couldn't help but ponder out loud while staring listlessly, yet amazed, above. You heard him snicker behind you.

“It is. How could I not have taken that one when presented to me? Go on. They won’t get any shorter.”

You shook your head to snap yourself out of the sudden daze, and carefully took the steps. This location was painfully plain compared to the rest of the archive, and part of you understood why, but also wished you had something to look at on the way up.

The tall, dark, wooden door presented in front of you looked like an import from the homes of the finest wood slabs of ebony, intricate carvings on each of the inlays. Not even the doors of the archive looked like this, it seemed such a waste to be hidden up these stairs, guarding Leon's private office. Maybe he personally requested this door to be here. What an interesting design choice, if so.

You pushed it open, not waiting for further instruction as there would have been nothing else to do. This office held far more personality than the one you were used to seeing on the ground floor, and you were positive you could spend just as many hours dissecting the shelves in this little room as you could on the main exhibit.

It was clear this room was built out of what might have been a buttress back in the gothic ages, the ceiling was high, circular and pointed, raw wooden beams were exposed to support the cone roof above you. The shelves were rounded, contrasted with the straight edge ones below. Books that looked as old as the dawn of time were cluttered on these shelves, a thought that almost made you panic, the treatment of them would make their casings fall off their backs faster than usual.

Leon didn’t miss any of your observations. “These are from a collection that I couldn’t possibly put down on the main floor, obviously they have seen better days. They don’t need more of the public’s touch to wither them even further.”

You swallowed, and forced yourself to face him. He was taking a seat in a grand maroon velvet desk chair. Even that looked ornate. “Aren’t you worried handling them like this is even worse?”

He gestured at the seat in front of the desk, then shook his head. He spoke only when you sat down. “They have been with me for years, I know how they behave by now.”

You had nothing to say in return, so you simply affixed your gaze onto his, waiting to hear the reason he brought you up here.

“You’ve found a passion in this place, I can tell.” His voice was low, and it made you shiver. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen someone treat this place like a living entity.”

“It feels alive…” You started, but had no way to finish. He was drawing the words right from your mind. 

“I do believe so as well. What brought you here? Besides what you studied making this a readily available opportunity.”

You looked down for a moment. Truthfully, it was a little childish why you were here. You knew that much and you could at least admit that to yourself. But, could you admit that to Leon? It had turned out that you loved this place as much as you would love a home you had been in for years, this place never became a burden to walk into, and you doubted that it would ever become that. You didn’t know what kind of answer he was expecting to hear from you, but Leon could be trusted. You knew that well enough by this point. He expressed his gratitude to your presence to the archive many times and surely, don’t you owe him the truth for that?

“To be honest with you…” You started tentatively. His face showed no shift in expression. “I have loved this place since I was a child. Something about it, maybe the aura, drew me to it. That’s why I think I feel it… why it feels so alive to me.” He nodded, not interrupting your thoughts. “This town’s folklore is something I loved for all my life.”

This time, he closed his eyes and nodded slowly, as if finally understanding why you had come here. And, he did, as that once sentence, you knew, would explain to any local why you chose this mansion. This archive.

“Maybe that’s silly of me,” You shook your head at yourself slightly. “But I think I owe it to the child who directed my path in life.”

He smiled at you, no sense of mockery on his face. “Let me ask you this, though,” You sat still, waiting. “Do you believe?”

You did not need to think this time. “Yes. I do.”

Leon leaned back in his chair and let his forearms lay on the armrests by his sides. “I think you are wise for that. Many choose to stop believing in folklore once they hit such an age where they know stories from historical recounts, but, don’t you think the two meld together at some point?”

You nodded. “I have always believed in that. And as soon as I stepped in here… the minute I came here to get this job, and even as a child, when I saw this place, I knew the stories were true. There’s no way that this place doesn’t have its hidden secrets.”

“Hidden in plain sight. Everyone talks of the vampire roaming the halls.” Leon added.

You quirked a smile– you couldn't help it. “What’s not to believe about that? I can feel it when I'm here.”

Leon nodded, his smile not fading. After this conversation, you knew you made the right choice in choosing to trust Leon. How could you not?

“People are drawn here on the idea that they will spot him somewhere, but look far too closely. They think every staff member could be him in disguise. They look down every dark hallway wishing to see him slinking around the corner, trying to hide. They look in every window from the outside, thinking he is hiding from the sun. But, there comes the melding, and the separating of truth and fiction. Why should he be doing those things, because they believe it to be true, or because they were told to believe it?”

You had nothing to say to this at first. You knew Leon would be holding a plethora of information on the mansion-museum’s lore as being home to the city's resident vampire from centuries ago. You couldn’t consume enough information on the idea, and yet, Leon still stunned you with what he had to say about it, simply because he had been here to see the behavior of those who believe in him. You wished he would keep talking about it, but knew that the premonition of a mythical being lurking the hallways was probably not the reason he brought you up here to talk about in the first place.

“Your candor is appreciated here.” He held his smile, and his eyes were sincere along with his spoken words. The windows didn’t allow an incredible amount of light into the room, the lamp sitting by his side on the desk casting a yellow haze over the space, the red lampshade drenching everything above in a blood tint. Even through this distortion, you could see how blue his irises were. Icy. A tingle ran across the skin of your arms.

“Now, for what you are actually up here for.” He broke the gaze, and you involuntarily released a sigh of relief. Looking down at his desk, in nothing in particular, you noticed there was nothing of importance on its surface, he continued. “Every so often, for no reason other than to bring variety in, we have a few shelves in the center of the floor that we rearrange to bring in new displays, or to shift the attention to something else.” You nodded, and you were sure you knew he was going to ask for your assistance in moving everything. You didn't mind. “Right now the table has displays of books on the history of witchcraft and others of the sort, quite fitting for the upcoming season, but quite the insult to the monument they’ve decided to promote within.” He sighed. You couldn’t help but smile. “But, I think we can get even better.”

“I have ideas. I think I could help with this.”

Leon smiled wider. A gesture he doesn't often show to the general patronage. It made you feel warm. “That’s what I was hoping you would say. Now, though, an unfortunate part.” He sighed, and his smile disappeared. More shivers took place in your body of the heat. “I would prefer it to be done by the end of this week, and because the mighty institution is using the Halloween season to promote museum ticket sales,” Another sigh. “They’ve extended our opening hours. Now, we, as the archive, do have the liberty to close our area before they close the museum’s doors, but I've been strongly advised against doing so.”

You nodded again, listening. He shrugged, looking at you, as if waiting for an input you didn’t know you should give. You squeaked out an agreement.

“I would like to shift two days of your hours to overnight. Would that be a problem?”

“It’s not. This is my full time job now, so I'm at your expense.”

He chuckled softly at your words. “Not an expense, just… assistance.”

Nonetheless, even if Leon did agree to your words of expense, you would be agreeing. He told you the guidelines, don’t come in for the day shifts, just come in for the nighttime. He handed over a key, an old, brass one that he told you would unlock the large archive doors after hours. You agreed with no hesitation, of course.

You had discovered soon after this, that fear could exist in the same plane as excitement. Really, isn’t fear just an overwhelming excitement of something unknown? Standing in front of the mansion, you craned your neck as far back as your body would allow. The looming building was dark, save for a few spotlights, but other than that, it was as dead as the night around you. The suspicious lack of insect and animal life noises was eerie, but you swallowed that lump of nerves, and walked up to the front.

As Leon instructed you, flashing your badge to the night guards let you right through, and you followed the path you have come to know so well that led right to the archive doors. 

It was a strange aura that surrounded you, one that made you hesitate briefly before unlocking, and relocking yourself inside. The air was so still, and that life you felt pulsing through the corridors on a daily basis was missing now. There was nothing, no one, no noise to fill your ears, so the blood pumping through was your only solace now. Before you could sit on this any longer and unease yourself further, you moved on.

The lock slid cleanly into place, and the resounding click that was heard resonated throughout the hall. You pushed the door open, wanting to get away from any undead lurking eyes that may be watching you. 

Not turning to shut the door behind you, you stared out into the vast expanse of the dark archive. The shelves were still, though shadows flitted in between them as if dancing with the moonlight. Every time you blinked, dark figures appeared at the edge of your vision, teasing your brain, making a shudder do its rounds throughout your nervous system. Though you loved this place, the nighttime gave it a whole new personality you weren’t sure you were quite ready to uncover. 

Turning to your right, you flipped the first two lightswitches, casting a spotlight down onto the center of the floor, and one at the door where you stood. You nearly jumped out of your skin when you turned back around.

“Leon!” You cried out.

Said man was in the center of the floor, as if coming out to greet you like it was the middle of the day. He had on a white button down, the first two loose around his neck, and his hair falling lazily over the left side of his forehead. It took even longer for your breath to still.

“You’re here?” You gasped out.

“Yes, I was wondering when you would get here. I guess you are right on schedule, though.” You carefully fled down the stairs, not taking your eyes off Leon, curious if he would disappear again. 

“Here with all the lights off? How could you see?” He didn’t answer your question until you were now face to face with him, having placed your belongings on the staircase, figuring you would not be spending much time in the office.

He shrugged slowly. “You get used to it after a while. There’s something about this place at night, I don’t get many chances to enjoy it with only myself.” You said nothing to this, just trying to digest his logic. There was no point in arguing it.

“Well, we should probably get started then?” He smiled softly at your words and flung instructions at you, making the night go by as if you were asleep through it all. 

With half of the display moved, Leon had stalked away to the main office, and you cleaned up the floor to pass until he let the both of you out. Standing next to the tall shelves, facing the window, you almost started to understand what Leon had said earlier. There is something about the place at night.

You had never thought you would get to experience that, though, of course. What other chance would you be wandering throughout these aisles all alone at night, with all the lights off? You were curious now, and jealous that Leon had been the one to experience that, and you might not ever.

You walked slowly towards the window, the lights behind you fading the further you went from them. Your fingertips grazed the edges of the shelves you walked along, as if picking up all the information held on them in one little touch. The night looked cold from where you stood, and you almost felt the temperature on your skin in that instant. The moon was full and bright, and it lit up your skin like the lights now behind you. Though these walls were thick and with plenty of objects in the room to muffle the sound, it could not drown out the roaring chorus of crickets perched in every branch right outside the glass. The chirps matched the beating of your heart, and soon the rush of blood was replaced by the insects' whispers, a cacophony of life, your vessel was the audience.

You saw yourself in the glass. Your skin lit up by the moon's graces, the hollows of your face carved out in deep shadows, you became painted into the history within these mansion walls, and you looked as if you always belonged. Eternal.

“The moon is bright.” 

You gasped and startled again, turning swiftly to see Leon peering over your shoulder, looking at the same illusive mirror that you were. “You should stop doing that Leon, I’m going to have a heart attack one of these days.” You breathed out a laugh. 

“I thought I was obvious enough, but I suppose not.” He looked past you back into the window again. “The moonlight makes you look marvelous.”

Your stomach twisted. You felt a blush rise to your cheeks, and couldn't help but turn back around to look again, and dare you say, you agreed. Your airbrushed skin, even flawless in the reflection of the glass, a gentle chiaroscuro against the vast emptiness behind you. Except for–

“Full moon nights are when I feel the most company here. I think she wants to be alive here as well.” You turned again, seeing Leon having unmoved from directly behind you. The cool blue light sitting atop his cheekbones, highlighting strands of blonde hair, contrasting the blaze of his hazel eyes, which were unrelenting on you. He, too, was a relief sculpture under the coalescence of the moon and the shadows. Where was his portrait to be viewed next to yours?

“Yeah, I… I agree now.” Though you felt a shiver crawl through you, you couldn’t make yourself turn around again to look. Your body was preventing you from doing so. Simply, you could only walk past Leon, back onto the main floor.

The ride home along in your car proved no more solace than you were hoping. You could see the silhouette of the mansion grow smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror, and it felt like departing from a friend who did nothing but tell all their troubles. It was hard to believe how quickly your image of the place shifted, though, you still felt so drawn, and so attracted to the premises. And, not to mention, the man within its walls.

What you saw puzzled you. Simply, it had been a trick of the light. You knew that there was no way the light from the moon was able to reach every point of the floor, so he was standing in the shadow. But, how had he approached so silently? Leon was always so silent. This wasn’t the first time the man has snuck up on you. A few others have said he gives them a fright as well, but it seems to happen to you much more often.

Leon was an enigma, in more ways than one. He spoke in riddles, or it felt like it. You read plenty of classics in your time studying literature, and it was as if he had taken his vocabulary straight from works published a century ago. With a borderline transatlantic accent, it always took you a moment to decipher his sentences. It wasn’t as if he read too many of the classics, it was like he came from one. 

As silly as the idea might sound to others, you believed it fully. It was just a tall tale from times past, warning people of a monster that didn’t exist. They kept the legend going to fuel tourism and sell museum tickets, but some still believed, and one of those some was you. You felt this answer in your heart fully and truly, and while it scared you to a degree, it awoke an excitement as never before felt in you. That almost scared you more.

There was no way that Leon wasn’t the vampire roaming the halls of the old mansion and archive.

His aura was one you had never felt in a person before. You have been attracted to people in the past, but you never felt someone so physically radiant that it was almost tangible. His gaze cut right through you like the sharpest knife, bringing a stinging trail along your skin as well as the burning desire to feel it again. It was undeniable, you had never felt such an insane attraction to someone you barely knew, yet, knowing that plus your newfound discovery, which you fully believed in, you wanted to dive headfirst into this unknown territory to explore. 

All day this weighed on your mind. You couldn’t rid Leon’s image from your thoughts. You couldn’t deny, even without the personality that occupied your thoughts, he was one of the most handsome men you had ever seen. He was picturesque in form, a painting made by the most skilled hands. You were ashamed to admit, only slightly, that you were dying to know more about the maps of his body. He always hid under button up shirts, but none that were ever too big that you couldn’t tell he had large biceps, most of the time the sleeves rolled up so the veins in his forearm protruded with movement. The sight always made your mouth dry.

You had to assume, only based on these facts, that he must have been fit, and if he was, which you had no doubt of, paired with his stunning profile, you weren’t sure how you made it so far into this job without making an attempt to pass out in his arms.

As expected, you could think of nothing else leading up to the hours you had to join him back for the second overnight shift. You honestly forgot the whole purpose of you going at this time, all of that having been pushed to the side in favor of thinking of the man in charge of the place. You were nervous, yet anticipated your arrival, hoping to gain more clues to back up your (unwavering, in your mind) hypothesis.

The guards let you in without the flash of your badge. You slinked quietly through the main hall, footsteps bouncing off of every surface. There wasn’t a soul in sight, yet you felt life all over your body. 

The key slid into the lock with ease, and the tell tale clink of the turn mechanism followed.

“Leon?” Your voice echoed through the archive as you shut the door behind you. The lights were off, once again.

You bound down the steps, dropping your belongings on the same stair as the previous night. This time, instead of heading right to the center of the floor to converge with Leon, you stood still on the last step.

“Leon?” You asked again after the man did not do his magical appearance trip at your entry. You felt a cold chill run over your skin. Now, you feel more alone than before. For the first time since becoming involved in the archive, the aisles and books were more sinister than inviting, and every dark corner had a spirit watching you.

You slowly left the stair you held solace on, and walked forward into the center of the room. It felt like every shelf and spine were staring at you with wide eyes, waiting for you to make a wrong move. You wanted to get to work, but you could barely will yourself back up the stairs to the lightswitch. You looked around again as if begging for help from a bystander who was not there.

There was a sudden shift in the air. You weren’t sure now if it was real or if you were hallucinating, but you felt a constricting sensation in your chest, and you felt not alone anymore. Leon was nowhere in sight, but you knew someone else was here.

Suddenly, you couldn’t take it anymore. The silence was enveloping you like a thick rope, and your breath was coming out sloppy. You had to leave.

You took one step backwards and hit a wall behind you. You yelped, not remembering stepping anywhere else besides the center of the room. You turned, and nearly jumped higher out of your body at the sight of what, or who, was behind you.

“You were down here with the lights off. Is something wrong or are you trying out my methods?”

Leon stood before you, in his usual uniform of a white button down shirt and black pants. His hair looked longer tonight, not pushed back with gel, but soft waves were falling across his face, pushed aside to let his sculpted face show through. Here, in the dark, he was much more brooding than he could have ever come across during your typical shifts. That gaze was not the friendly one you had seen in times past.

“No, no I just…” You swallowed, the words falling right out of your mouth. “I thought you would be here. Well, you are, now, but…” You gestured behind you, still feeling the presence of non-existent bodies. 

Leon slowly nodded at your words, not moving towards you, but you felt his presence getting closer. 

“I have been here. I was in the office.” He gestured behind him lazily, to the office you were used to frequenting as an employee. The door was closed.

You shook your head. “I didn’t hear you, though.” You looked again at the door, and when you looked back into his eyes, he knew what you were thinking. He was lying, and he knew you knew that. 

“You know I’m quiet.” His tone felt like a surge straight from your head to your feet, rooting you into place no matter how much you urged your brain to send movement to your limbs.

“Well…” You pushed words out of your throat. “I guess let’s finish this, then.” You broke eye contact and finally felt your body moving forward, but you knew he was still looking at you. You could feel it. 

The moon, if it were even possible, was even brighter this night. It’s full face projected into the windows like a spotlight, and once you were able to put your body into motion and further the project of moving book displays, you barely paid note of how Leon never turned the lights on for the both of you. Maybe he could see perfectly well.

It was nearing one in the morning at this point, and you had one last stack to move. You made gentle conversation with Leon throughout, refusing to put on a strange facade solely off of your own thoughts. He reverted back to his normal state, though normal is a generous word to use for a man like Leon. 

You walked back to the table being used to house books while they are moved, and picked up the last stack. Bram Stoker, Dracula.

This made you snap your head up. You were sure this hadn’t been on the list set to display, yet, here it was. You looked around, trying to search out Leon to question him about this last minute addition. But, as expected, you realized, he was nowhere to be seen. In fact, you don't remember what he was doing last.

“Leon?” You looked back over to the office door, still closed. You would have heard if he went in there and closed it behind him. You put the stack of books down and walked (slowly, you now felt that desolate aloneness again) over to the back right corner, towards Leon’s private office.

You could not make yourself walk any quicker than the snail pace you currently set. It was odd, and you knew if you were afraid you should be walking faster, but for some reason, surrounded by these books and shelves, you felt as if the faster you moved, the quicker you would be caught. Caught by what? You couldn’t answer that question, yet the word suddenly appeared in your head to describe the situation.

You were distracted on the way to the back. You thought, again, you saw a drift of black smoke waft by as if it were another hallucination. You stopped in your tracks, heart in your throat. You shifted paths, only momentarily, you were now desperate to be back in the company of Leon, your supposed vampire master archivist.

The carpet below you muffled your footsteps, but still, you noticed they were loud enough to be heard, unlike how Leon had been appearing from behind you out of thin air. You almost had to squint as you walked by the windows, the moonlight a sudden burst of fireworks in contrast to the dim workspace you had been habiting. As expected, after leering around the corners, hoping to sneak up on the entity, there was nothing but empty space.

There was a light pattering at the window, and you turned your head to see the sky spitting down on you. The window, slowly becoming stained with raindrops, still held that brush stroked image of you, forever intertwined within the archive. It was a hypnotizing image, as if you no longer recognized yourself the more the rain came down. It was a comforting sound, the taps of the drops on the glass filling the void. It felt like another presence, and it calmed you down to a degree, as calm as you could allow yourself to get.

There was a creak from behind you, as if someone had opened a door, or stepped on a stair. You whipped back around, hoping to see Leon at this point, but still, he was nowhere to be seen. The room was still, everything untouched, but your eyes still scanned every crevice, convinced you were going to miss something if you weren’t careful. 

The rain was still sounding off behind you, and you could see the bending of the light as it cast onto the floor. It was the only thing moving. You were far too on edge now.

You turned back to the window…

“Leon!” You took a step back, now more afraid than surprised at his sudden appearance. “Where did you come from? I’ve been looking for you.” You took a huff, trying to catch your breath from his genuinely scaring you. He was standing in front of the window, the moon behind him casting into a deep silhouette, face barely available. 

“I’ve been here the whole time.” His voice was lower than before now, and you could barely piece together thoughts. He turned his head to the side, as if surveying the room that you were just inspecting. His eyes caught a glimpse of the light, and you saw the deep yellow in them. It sent a sudden pit to your stomach, and a memory to flash in front of your eyes.

The day he had taken you up to his office, and you spoke about the legends of the vampire, and why you were drawn to the house. You remember the look he gave you when he had said he appreciated your honesty. 

Leon had blue eyes that day. That color was nowhere to be seen now.

You swallowed, trying to moisten your mouth in order to speak. “No… no you weren’t. I looked for you. You disappeared. And you just came out of nowhere. What is going on with you, Leon?” As hard as you tried to suppress it, you heard the trembling sounds that came out of your mouth. It was audible that you were panicking, and he knew it. 

He stared at you for another moment. His arms were clasped behind his back. “What are you afraid of?”

The rumbling of his voice shot straight through you, to your dismay, and you forced all your composure together to face him without folding.

You gave him a once over, trying to find… something, that might give him away. What you were looking for exactly, you couldn’t say, but you couldn’t stare into his eyes any longer, especially having realized they were not the same eyes you saw a few days ago.

“You’re just… being odd, Leon.” You looked back into his eyes, or what you could see of them from underneath the shadows. Being this close to him, you felt like you were suffocating, and you needed air. “I would like to finish this now.”

You slowly side stepped him, Leon still unmoving in his position against the window. You sighed and turned your head, catching your rain-distorted reflection once again. It was you, a mirror image of someone suffering the same mystifying scenarios as you were in the present moment, standing ever alone against the bookshelves, not offering the comfort they usually do. 

You stopped short in your tracks and did a double take. Now your body was fully turned toward the window. 

Your reflection stared at you, looking just as perplexed as you did. Without shifting your eyes to the side, you saw the equally distorted reflection of the wooden shelves, illuminated under the lunar glow. You saw your empty hands, you saw the dark hallway behind you, and out of your peripheral vision you saw that Leon had not moved from his spot yet… yet you could not see him.

Leon was not present in the reflection. 

You could do nothing but stare in shock and slight horror as you watched the whole scene unfold. A part of you was now realizing, though you had put two and two together in the comfort and safety of your own home, now in the presence of the man and seeing the evidence with your own two eyes, your veins ran cold, and you could not will yourself to move. Not until Leon did.

He shifted, you couldn’t even turn your head to watch. Now he was out of any point of view you had, but you felt his presence press himself against your back, staring into the same image you were. It was the most disorienting experience, feeling Leon’s body behind you, yet not seeing him peering over your shoulder. It didn’t take an expert for him to know how you were feeling in this moment, and you were also sure he knew exactly what conclusion you had just come to.

“What are you thinking?” His deep voice presented itself directly in your ear, and you felt the featherlight graze of his lips on the shell. You could feel the strands of his hanging blonde waves hit your cheek, and while your eyes stung like you wanted to cry, a blaze set itself alight within your body at his proximity.

You could only shake your head slowly at first. “You…” You fumbled over your words, unable to take your eyes off of the glass. The mysterious image of only you and not the person directly behind you will forever be burned into memory. “What are you?”

You heard him inhale slowly. You felt the heat from his face lift away from yours, but it only moved up a fraction, his mouth now pressing closely into your hairline. 

“Don’t you know already? You’re a smart girl.” He was condescending with his words, most surely using what you had told him a few days ago against you now. All that talk you did about you believing the legend of the mansion’s vampire, yet here you were, standing right in front of him and refusing to say it out loud.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Your voice was barely louder than a tremble. “You let me run my mouth like a fool in your office, and you didn’t even tell me that I was right this whole time.” Your tongue was so dry, speaking became a task. Your fingers were growing numb, but you still found it hard to move.

He snickered, and you felt the air from his breath fan your face. “And ruin the surprise? I’d much rather see the look on your face after you put it together yourself than having told you right then and there. There’s nothing I love more than when I see someone realize the reality of their convictions. Quite especially someone like you.”

You closed your eyes. It was all you could stand to do at this moment. You shot them back open, however, when you felt his broad hand at your back, pushing you forward, closer to the glass. 

Walking closer to the window with the rain now coming down steadily against it, he released where he had put his hand, but did not remove himself from your closeness. 

“What do you see?” 

He said nothing more, waiting for you to find the composure to be able to speak properly again. As hard as you tried to look past your bleary visage to the outside world, it was nearly impossible. It was dark as ever out there, the moon unrelenting in her radiance. 

After a few more seconds, “Myself.” You heard Leon hum from behind you. 

“And?” He egged you on.

You shook your head. “That’s it. I can see the moon. The rain.” Your voice grew softer, body relaxing slowly, but for what cause, you weren’t able to find. You involuntarily let out a low sigh when you felt the tips of his fingers crawl up the right side of your neck, settling on your jaw. He pushed your head to the side, enough to expose the canvas of flesh in the reflection.

“Curious… Don’t you think?” His hand flitted lower, raising a trail of goosebumps along the tender skin. A finger pressed inward, right underneath the crook of your jaw, feeling the pulse of your bloodstream. “How much of yourself you can see, the first thing you always notice, for the living must look and be vain.”

Chills spread quickly throughout your body. His hand felt shockingly warm, the opposite of what you would have expected from the typical vampirical lore. 

“You… you don’t know what you look like?” You whispered.

“How should I? I’m not able to unless someone lets me know, but even then, do I want to?”

You said nothing for a moment, trying to breathe through the weakness in your abdomen at his touch, which was still laid over the tender place on your throat.

“I’d like to think you still look the same as the day you stopped aging.” He hummed again at your words. Despite his remark of not knowing if he would like anyone to tell him what he looked like, he let you continue in your description. “You’re like a sculpture. Rough around the edges but so blended out, only made by hands whom the gods approved of.” His hand left your pulse, settling on the crook of your neck and shoulder, slightly squeezing. You couldn’t see, of course, but you felt that he still held his face close to yours. “You’d almost be better fitted walking the main halls as a work of art than hiding in these books.”

“That is very affirming to hear from a woman like you.” A breath of silence, then he continued. “You’ve always known, you always believed, and you know what I am. I’m quite drawn to you, I am long familiar with the feeling of someone who is covered in fear, it’s nowhere present on you.” He brought his lips down back to your ear, and you felt his left hand sneak around your waist. Your knees almost buckled. “You’re captivating… I cannot bring myself to keep things professional at all times.”

You were now, truly, at a loss for words, however he did not take your silence as resilience. The hand that was not around your waist was now pushing down the shoulder of your top, revealing the smooth skin. You shuddered again, letting your eyes close once more, and you gave in to the physical feelings over trying to rationalize anything verbally. 

“I can’t stand here and deny myself from trying to get to you any longer. I have to know… I must know…” His voice was a borderline growl in your ear now, and you shocked yourself with the smallest whimper that poured over your lips. It only fueled him. 

You were pushed forward by a sudden force from Leon, both hands coming up to brace yourself against the window. You were glad no one had ever turned the lights on, if any of the guards decided to walk the perimeter, surely you would have been seen.

Interestingly enough to you, despite being in the current position you were, you no longer felt any anxiety from being in the presence of your manifested form of Leon the vampire. Though he did stand there and confirm it all to you, no part of you felt like you needed to run away any longer. In fact, the contrast between the cold window and his warm body was all the convincing you needed to stay.

“I would never do this on an ordinary day, if it were anyone else I would fight these urges, but with you… I just find myself succumbing to something I wanted so suddenly.” His mouth moved against the skin of your neck, and you arched back into his body behind you. “I will not continue unless you tell me not to, but you should know I need more than just the one thing from you right now…” 

The deep octaves of his voice had your thoughts swimming, and any rational mind had flown far out the window. There was nothing to argue with when there was nothing you felt the need to refuse. 

“I…” A gasp from you, collecting breath you had not known you were holding. “I can’t let you do this then let you loose. This is too far beyond simplicity now.” Your breath fogged the window, and you couldn't help but notice once more how you could only see your bare shoulder in the glass, and not his large hand around the bone.

“I would never,” His lips were tucked up under your jawline, the vibrations from his voice being felt all over your body. A kiss would be less intimate. “You’re mine.”

At once, his hand on your waist tightened and he opened his mouth, his sharp fangs pierced the flesh right underneath your pulse and you gasped loudly, the pinch making you stiffen at first, then making your legs lose balance.

Leon’s hot mouth on your throat was like a painkiller compared to his teeth sunk into you, and his hand held you steady as you slowly felt the need to fall to your knees. He removed his right hand from your shoulder and wrapped it underneath your right arm, crossing over your chest to hold you steady against him, and the more you gasped and writhed at him feeding, the closer he pulled you into him.

He was groaning into your neck, his tongue swiping over the stinging wounds after he had retracted his fangs, and every time more blood pulsed out of the surface, he rocked his hips into you, and you could tell he was enjoying this in more ways than just the one. And, something you never would have believed you would get to admit, you were growing more excited with every passing second as well.

“Leon…” You whispered, unable to find strength to raise to your full voice. You clenched your eyelids shut, a burst of white filtering through the darkness. Your limbs started trembling. “Please…”

With a gasp from the man, he pulled his mouth off of your neck, the cold air stinging the once warm location. He pulled you close into his body. He was breathing heavily.

With his still low and raspy voice, he spoke again, his body twitching against yours from the rush of adrenaline. “With one taste now, I’m not sure I will ever be able to stay satiated without your blood again,” You tilted your head back, resting it on his. He held you up. “You remind me of a time when being alive meant something greater than just a state of being to me. For as long as I can…” He adjusted his head, and you felt the tip of his nose grace your jaw. It made you jump at first, afraid to feel those piercing teeth again, but he let you revel in the soft touch. “I cannot let another claim you to be theirs.”

Leon brought his left hand back upward on your body, caressing your face and directing it sideways to look at him. His eyes were burning bright with gold, and your hazy vision locked onto it like a target. 

“Tell me yes,” He whispered now, his mouth grazing yours. You were barely hanging on, the blood loss creating more of a haziness than you were expecting, but you would have been able to say this answer even if you could barely speak. You had made your mind up about this with Leon a long time ago. 

“Yes, Leon,” You breathily replied, and the grip on both of his hands intensified, capturing your body even closer to his if it was possible, and came down onto you in a heated kiss.

He held the side of your face to keep you upright, and it only made you melt further. His strong hands and arms were the sole reason you hadn't fallen to the floor by now, your mind was swimming and all of your nerves were aflame. You were barely paying any attention to the dull throbbing coming from the two pinpricks in your neck. 

Leon, you could tell immediately, was a passionate lover. He made sure to keep you close to him at all times, afraid at any moment you could run away, from him, from this archive, from this experience. You knew you could never do that, not after such a bond had already been created by letting him feed off of you. His arms were solace in this moment, and his mouth a lifesaver, ironically.

He gently bit at your lips, and when he pulled away for you to catch your breath, you could taste blood. It was your own, you knew, but some sick inner part of you loved the thrill it sent through you. You wanted more.

His mouth was back on your skin in an instant, this time by your cheek, ear, down to your jaw and neck. You flinched when he landed on the bite mark, but he only trailed over it with a light kiss, he didn’t intend on reopening them. One of your hands came down off of the cold glass, now fogged from the heat from the two of you, to wrap around his wrist. You could barely stand, and wanted to stay in his embrace, but needed to look at him.

At your touch, he slowly let you go, and when there was enough space for movement, you turned carefully, purposefully not leaving his contact.

You shuddered at the cold window on your back, but felt heat flood your senses again when you looked into his eyes. Leon loomed over you, gaze full of lust, chest heaving with having spent energy on you, but you knew he had more to give. And you had more you could take.

You grabbed the front of his shirt by the middle and pulled him closer to you. He wasted no time in coming where you had beckoned him, hand slithering around your waist to draw you in again. 

After a breath, you spoke, “I can’t… I don’t think I can stand for long,” Your eyes fluttered shut for a few seconds at a time, and you couldn’t help but to let them. 

The other hand that hadn’t worked its way around your waist trailed down your side, over the curve of your hips and thighs, and took solace underneath.

“Don’t worry about that,” It took only a second at most for him to lift you, settling himself in between your legs, back still pressed against the window. Leon’s hand was gripping your thigh, and the other was still behind you. Your own arms wrapped around his neck suddenly, and it brought you face to face with him once again. “I’ve got you. I won’t drop you.”

You sighed at his words, thankful he was now holding you, as that surely would have been the breaking point, and you would have been in a puddle on the floor by now. You let your head roll back, hitting the window with a dull thud, but any pain that might have happened due to it was nowhere to be felt, with other sensations at the forefront of your nerve system.

Leon had pressed himself against you again, the hardness of his cock through his pants pressing incessantly against your heat, he reattached his lips to your throat, nipping and sucking at the soft skin, eliciting mewls from your mouth at his touch.

Your hands explored ceaselessly along his strong arms, his biceps flexing from holding you, from the excitement coursing through his own body, and you couldn’t help but arch back into him, trying to get even closer than possibly allowed. You felt him pull away again, and you wrapped one hair through his soft blonde locks and pulled him back, connecting your lips in fervor, kissing him like your life source was dependent on you staying alive.

HIs lips were soft and hot, you were addicted to the taste. The tang of your blood mixed on his tongue danced with the shared saliva between you, and with every kiss you wished you could get even closer to him. You tugged on his hair, but it was as if he couldn’t even feel it, he was too wrapped up in you.

His tongue roamed your mouth, both soon becoming slick with spit and sweat between your bodies, and you couldn’t take the heat anymore. 

You pulled away, only by an inch but with enough space to whine out, “Leon, please,”

No more communication was needed, he understood your words. Maybe if you let it go on any longer, he would now just by whatever your body was telling him.

The arm he had around your waist snaked back to your side, and dipped down in between the two of you. Leon kissed your neck once, your head still relaxed against the window, unable to conjure the energy to move. You shivered with his touch along your thigh, the casual sweater dress you had on now becoming a good idea. You thanked your past self.

“If I continue will you let me,” He spoke into your neck, close enough to your ear for you to hear the low rumble of his voice. “I got a taste of you, but I know it won’t be enough.” His hand was already caressing the tender skin of your inner thigh, causing waves of chills and heat though your body and straight to your core. He was mere inches away from pulling aside your panties and running his fingers along your wetness, and you didn’t know if you could wait for that any longer.

“I need you Leon,” You whispered, and tried to turn your head to face him as best as you could. “I’ll let you forever.” 

He sighed, but it was closer to a growl. He thrust his hips forward, creating a delicious friction in between the two of you, and you couldn't stop the moan that escaped. Your hand was still laced in his hair, and he inhaled sharply, in pleasure rather than pain, every time you pulled hard. 

You whined out loud when he withdrew the hand that was so close to putting fingers inside of you, but you quickly quieted down when he utilized it instead to work apart the clasp of his belt and button of his pants. He had no intentions of wasting time, though this was a man that had all in the world. 

You lifted your head with the surge of energy you found at the sound of this and attempted to look down, needing to feed your eyes before he fed your pussy. He caught you before you could make the move, smashing your lips together once again, but you didn’t mind the distraction, it was a better way to pass the time rather than have your mouth empty. 

Leon wrigled himself around for a moment, attempting to pull himself out with one hand. He sighed after he accomplished this, pulling away from your mouth, but instantly was back on your neck. This time, he gave you what you wanted.

With his other hand still supporting your thigh, and showing no signs of getting tired of this action, he replaced his hand back inside your dress skirt, but skipping right over its previous position. Instead, he placed the pad of his thumb right onto the gusset of your panties, pressing with enough force to give you the friction you were desperate for. You gasped out loud, and he only continued this action to make you writhe against him.

The hand that was not tangled in his hair traveled down his chest, feeling the hard ridges of his muscles and bones, toying with the buttons of his shirt to pull them apart. When he felt your hand touch his bare chest, you could feel the muscles flex for a second. 

He decided he had had enough of the teasing, though he was the one doing it to you. He roughly pulled aside your panties, and your mouth dried up at the action. Your breath hitched, and you knew what was coming.

He pulled away from your skin for a second to look into your eyes. You could feel yourself slowly slipping away, the dizziness from the blood loss slowly fading, but that strength was whisked away instantly by the arousal pooling in every crevice of your body. Leon’s eyes were half lidded, pupils blown, mouth slightly parted. You could tell just by looking at him that he barely had anything else on his mind. Just the few sips of your elixir gave him enough energy to last the whole night, most likely.

“I’m sorry if I get rough,” You felt the vibrations of his words through his chest, which you still had one hand firmly planted on. “Everything is heightened now and…” He swiped through your clothed pussy again, making you buck your hips forward. “You are irresistible, and it’s doing something to me… That I haven’t felt in a long time.”

You said nothing, or rather, didn’t have the time to, as after he concluded speaking, his fingers breached the threshold of your panties and he slipped a finger through your wet folds, making you inhale sharply and press yourself further against him. He leaned forward, pinning you fully against himself and the window, using his teeth to gently bite at your neck again. 

He proceeded to stay buried in your neck for the next minute or so, his fingers going back and forth from teasing your entrance to applying pressure on your clit, making you whine and wiggle around in his hold. Every time you moaned breathily right next to his ear, he growled lowly.

The rain continued to pound on the window behind you, mirroring the feeling of your dripping heat, tightening around nothing as Leon continued to tease you, the feeling of his twitching head would occasionally press against you, and you desperately tried to rut forward to put it in, but he held you in place. 

Finally, when he did decide to show mercy on your state, you whined so sharply your voice cut in and out of audibility, his thick fingers stretching you in a way that felt like bliss, no matter if any pain occurred. He thumbed your clit while slowly pumping his fingers in and out of you, feeling yourself grow slicker with every stroke, the movement becoming less and less resistant as he worked you open.

Surely he was able to feel your thighs trembling in his hand, your legs twitching with the feeling of his fingers, paired with the tongue against your pulse, the non-bitten side, you were almost at the edge without anything major happening.

He pulled away, putting himself once again in front of your face, searching you for signs that he shouldn’t continue. Tears were brimming on your lower lash line, though not from pain, but from the lack of pleasure. He saw this as it was, knowing what you were feeling in this moment, knowing you needed more, needed him. 

Leon held one second of eye contact, then dipped into your mouth to kiss you chastely, and at the same time, sheathed himself inside of you. You gasped into the kiss, deepening it as you tried to thrust yourself forward to take more and more of him in. He held your hips firmly in place, not letting you take any of the control. Your fingers were tugging so harshly at his hair now, you would be surprised if you pulled away with no strands stuck between your fingers. He welcomed the sting of it though, pushing himself forward into you until he completely bottomed out, the feeling of his twitching cock in your walls made your whole body shiver, and you felt yourself pulsing around him, begging for some action to relieve your aching.

Your breath was stuck in your throat at this. The fullness you were experiencing made it difficult to inhale anything, and with Leon not only filling your insides, but still keeping his mouth connected to your neck, everything was making your head spin.

“Leon…” You breathed out, and you received a grunt in return. He pistoned his hips forward again, making you whine sharply, before pulling himself out and repeating the action. You quickly became loud.

There was nothing rough about the action. He was slow and thoughtful with every stroke, hands gripping your ass where he held you up, pushing bruises into the skin where his fingers made contact. He groaned with every other thrust, enjoying the feeling of you around him as you were of him inside of you. 

You could barely make any more noise at this point, just heavy breathing was coming from the both of you, a whine occasionally making its way out from your throat, but too many sensations were happening at once, it was all so overstimulating.

Your hands were roaming, trying to find any surface on him possible to steady yourself. You were clawing at him desperately, feeling a little sorry for the marks you were creating along his chest, but every line of pain was being pushed into his performance, and he was not relenting on his power.

“Fuck,” Leon moaned into your ear, and he took one second to collect himself before resuming his pace. You could feel how wet the both of you had become, as well as hear it. “You feel amazing…” Your head rolled back once more and thudded against the rain stricken window, but it was not loud enough to drown out the incessant squelching happening. Leon began to pick his pace up slightly, most likely your sign that he was getting close.

He thrust hard and stayed seated inside of you, making your legs tense up, and pleasure shoot throughout your entire body. Your hand had finally let go of his hair at this, squeezing with as much strength as you could muster up in your body on his thick shoulder, where you could feel every muscle as he struggled to hold you up and keep himself together.

“You’re too much for me,” He gasped into your ear, “I can’t hold on much longer,” 

You lifted your head off of the window and leaned down, he met you halfway and sealed his words with a deep kiss. Moving away from other spots on his body, your hands traveled back up and cupped both sides of his face, kissing him with passion as he tried to split focus between kissing you and fucking you.

You could feel his breath on your face as he began stuttering, and his sounds made your stomach tighten, and you clenched your walls around him, making it even harder for him to continue.

He pulled away by a mere centimeter, saliva stuck between you two in a string, the look in his eyes soft yet strong, he admired you in a way that made you forget he had seen a thousand other beautiful things in his lifetime. It made you feel like you topped the list. Sweat was beading on his forehead, it was catching the moonlight behind you, making his skin shine like silver. His eyes were blue again.

He furrowed his brow together, his hips losing its steady rhythm. “I–I can’t,” He almost whimpered, and you took pity on his state. It was arousing to see this man fall apart under you.

You tried your best to speak, voice cutting in between heavy breaths. “So don’t.” These words elicited a sob-like sound from the man in front of you. His mouth dropped open, eyelids scrunching together, letting the last of himself loose that he had been holding together barely at all. 

With broken gasps and groans, you felt Leon push himself for just a moment more, the pleasure on his face driving you right to your orgasm, and the knot inside of you came loose. Solace was found on his chest again, and your nails dug into him as you rode it out, knowing the feeling was going to push Leon over as well.

You felt it before you saw it on his face. You felt the throb of his thick cock inside of you, his hips unable to do anything steadily at this point, and he let himself go inside of you.

He was looking down between the two of you, though you were sure his eyes were closed as you were still pressed together. He groaned once, twice, and when he eventually looked up, in between his panting lips and huffs for air, you saw his shining fangs that had come out to play again.

You almost invited him to bite you again. Surely it would have allowed him to continue.

You blinked and they were gone. His facial features softened as he looked at you, your skin was on fire from the warm air settling in around you two, and your lungs wouldn’t fill efficiently enough.

He gulped, trying to wet his mouth. You were experiencing the same. “Are you alright to stand?”

You removed your hands from his chest and placed them on one of the panes of the window. “I think I will be, maybe… eventually.”

He huffed a laugh. He gently maneuvered his hands to let your feet plant back onto the ground. After being held up for so long, your knees felt like jelly. You stumbled.

He still loomed over you after you had regained your balance. He discreetly put himself away while you were busy controlling the rush of blood back to your head, and now he was keeping a watchful eye, scared, like you were fragile.

“I’m just unsteady. I won’t break.” You remarked. You pulled the hem of your dress down.

Leon smiled. It warmed you. “Of course I know that. I just…” He looked away for a moment, as if ashamed. “I drank a lot more than I should have. And then proceeded to heighten your heart rate, which was not my best course of action, but at times, I tend to get ahead of myself.” You stared at him as he talked. You felt endeared by his worries. 

“I feel fine, right now. But I was hazy. But…” You bit your lip, wondering if you should continue your train of thought. Why not, you concluded, the most intimate act was already water under the bridge. “I liked how it felt.”

You couldn’t help but smile, a slight difference to the tone of the moment, but you noticed his hair, which he hadn’t yet patted down from your fingers running wild in them. It made him look rugged, playful. Human.

“I…” Leon said nothing else for a few more seconds. You observed each other. Reveling in the events that just transpired, and exactly what this means moving forward. There was no more strictly professional relationship. You could feign it to the public, but you will always want him. He will always crave you.

He continued. “I meant what I said. I had a little too much just for a first taste, and it heightened every nerve ending in my body, you allowed me to continue, and I fear… Well, now I need to see where this takes our relations. I would like…” Another pause for humility. “I would like you to stay. Stay here, not for the building, but with me.”

You were the one to gulp this time. Even just his words had a sweeping effect like a wave, and you were desperately trying to breathe through the undertow. 

You walked forward, grabbing his shirt by the half undone buttons and pulled him into a kiss. You let the passion take over in place for the lust a few minutes prior, and you could feel the difference all over your body. You knew your answer.

You pulled away, both of you slightly dazed. You whispered into his lips, “That was already my plan.” 

The moonlight hugged you both goodnight.

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Aphelion - 11

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

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

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

Word Count: 16,754

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

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

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

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

Catch up with the Aphelion masterlist here!

(banner by @valkblue )

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

But unlike Oberyn, you didn’t think silently. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She cut my mark from her skin.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How is that a curse?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Were he and Toban -” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It made you feel better. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oberyn, you don’t have to -”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you. Thank you for being -”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why? Is it -”

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m just -”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tag list reblogs coming soon! 

[player1064]

kate for someone reason thinking jamie is homophobic not sure why or how but she does (sara has me obsessed with the idea that they can’t stand each other now lol) and then him introducing her to gary and she’s like 🤯 ft. micah in the corner like you didn’t know he never shuts up about him???

god Kate and Jamie literally CANNOT STAND EACH OTHER!!! I'm OBSESSED with that dynamic tbh!!!!!!! As always. this one is much longer than intended...

Also, don't need to have read it but this is technically intended to tie in to my fic Happy wife, happy life (but tldr Jamie regularly calls Gary his wife partly to keep their relationship under wraps but mostly bc. he finds it funny to call Gary his wife.)

---

“Obviously we’re done for the season right before pride month kicks off,” one of the CBS producers is saying, eyes darting over something on an iPad. “And since you four have been pretty popular we were thinking of including you in some of those ad campaigns, so if I could just get some dates off of all of you –”

“No,” Jamie says immediately.

All three of his colleagues snap their heads up to him, but only Kate looks at him coolly and says “no?”

Micah, because he’s Micah, chuckles and slaps Jamie in the shoulder, trying to diffuse some of the new tension in the air. “Not like you to turn down extra cash, Carra.”

Jamie rolls his eyes, pretends not to notice the way Kate’s eyes are burning into him. “Check my contract. Wish I could, honest,” he says to the producer, feeling very very glad that he had a clause added to his contract specifically so that he doesn’t have to take part in things like this, “But it just wouldn’t be do-able. You lot ‘ave fun, though, with yer rainbows and yer glitter.”

Kate just looks at him incredulously. “This is one thing you decide to take a stand on, mister ‘I don’t care about politics’?”

Rainbows just don’t really suit Jamie, is the thing. Nor does the extra scrutiny that comes from wearing rainbows.

Doesn’t really matter to him what Kate thinks of him, though, so he just shrugs and continues packing up his stuff for the day.

*

“Jamie – Jamie, I finally got onto Raya, can you have a look at my profile?”

Jamie looks up at Micah with a frown. “What the fuck is a Raya?”

“It’s a dating app,” Kate says from her end of the desk, in that unimpressed tone of hers that makes Jamie wonder why she’s bothering to insert herself into the conversation at all.

“An exclusive dating app,” Micah corrects, wiggling his phone in front of Jamie.

“Weren’t you already seeing someone?” asks Jamie, but he accepts the phone with a sigh and puts his glasses on. “I don’t – I’ve never used one of these things, what am I meant to be lookin’ at?”

Micah shrugs. “Didn’t work out,” he says breezily. “How have you never used a dating app, you’ve not been married that long. And look at yourself, you can’t tell me you weren’t a player before Mrs Carra came along.”

Jamie had got around a bit, in his playing days. Not much, mind, because he’d had to be careful, but he’d done alright. Unfortunately – and this is not something he’ll ever admit to anyone, even under duress – any thoughts of that had gone out the window the moment he’d walked onto the Sky campus after retiring.

“You’re right,” he says with a wink, “look at me. As if I’d need an app to find myself a bird. Why’d you want me to look at this, I’m not exactly your target audience. ‘less there’s somethin’ you’re not tellin’ us,” he adds, elbowing Micah and waggling his eyebrows.

Kate looks on unimpressed as the two of them double over in laughter. “Not that any of us would have a problem if you were, right Jamie?” she says haughtily.

Jamie catches Micah’s eye and has to fight back another bout of laughter. “Dunno,” he says, “I can think of one or two problems I’d ‘ave if Big Meeks here suddenly tried hittin’ on me.”

Micah bursts out laughing again, his hand clapping to Jamie’s forearm, and Jamie can’t help but join in – it’s infectious, okay?

“God,” Micah says, wiping a tear from his eye, “can you imagine how your missus would react. I’d never be able to work in television again.”

“Nah, she’d prob’ly send you a fruit basket, thank you for taking me off ‘er hands.”

Kate clears her throat and the two of them sober immediately at the sight of her raised eyebrow. “Maybe cool it with the outdated banter,” she says, “or do I need to remind you boys that you’re not in a dressing room anymore?”

She storms off, he heels click-clicking away as Jamie and Micah look at each other and try (and fail) not to start laughing again.  

*

“You didn’t want to bring your wife to the end of season party, then?” Kate asks politely, looking slowly around the room.

“Huh?” Jamie says eloquently, because he’s had a couple of glasses of prosecco and he’s not thinking as quickly as he usually might. “Oh, the missus. Yeah, she’s here but  – I dunno, she’s a bit shy, like. You didn’t invite Malik?”

Kate rolls her eyes, the way she always does when Jamie mentions her boyfriend. “Well, he lives in America. So.”

“Carra,” an annoying voice calls from just behind him, “Carra, come over ‘n meet Schmeichel? I’ve not seen ‘im in years, d’you know, I think I’d forgot how tall he was.”

Jamie puts a hand on the small of Gary’s back to keep him from bouncing around too much (the man is such a lightweight, it’s embarrassing), and says “I’ve already met Peter, you dolt. I work with ‘im, remember?”

Gary squints at him for a second. “You drag me all the way down to London, and then y’can’t even be bothered to –” he finally seems to realise that Jamie had been talking to someone, because he quickly shakes his head around a bit and holds a hand out to Kate with a smile. “You’re Kate, right? I love what you do on the show, honest, I’m always sayin’ people need to be meaner to James here.”

Jamie thinks he sees Kate blush a bit, like she hadn’t realised anyone else had noticed her dislike of Jamie, but she takes Gary’s offered hand anyway. “And of course you’re the famous Gary Neville, I’ve heard a lot about you,” she greets. “But aren't you still with Sky? What brings you to our little operation here?”

“Scopin’ out the competition,” he says with a wink, then turns back to Jamie. “Carra – Peter?”

“I said no! I’ll talk to him later, stop badgerin’ me.”

“Did you two travel down from Manchester together?” asks Kate, “You know, Jamie seems so invested in my relationship but none of us have ever met his wife, do you know where she’s got to?”

“Ah, his fuckin’ wife,” Gary mutters, smirking up at Jamie. Jamie winks in reply and slips his hand down a bit to pinch him on the arse.

Micah comes over, his tuxedo strained against his biceps, and he pulls Gary away from Jamie to throw an arm around his shoulder in a half-hug.

(Gary squirms a bit at the unexpected contact, but he still gives Micah a friendly pat on the chest.)

“Big Nev! It’s been ages, man – Jamie told us you were coming, but he’s promised that before and not delivered.”

“Been pretty busy, up in Manchester,” Gary says with a shrug, carefully extracting himself from under Micah’s arm and returning to Jamie’s side. “But I’m obliged to do the plus one thing at least two –” (“Three,” Jamie corrects,) “—fine, three times a year, and I figure there’re worse places to be.”

“Aw, you love it really,” Micah says. “I’ve always kind of wondered what it’s like to be a WAG.”

Gary rolls his eyes. “It’s a thankless job, to be fair.” He pokes Jamie in the bicep and adds “I’m going back to talk t' Peter, you miserable old twat. Honest, I’m always talkin' to Scousers fer you.”

“I already know –” Jamie starts to protest, but Gary’s already wandered off. “Ugh. Sorry about ‘im. You can’t take Mancs anywhere, can ya?”

The two Mancs he’s talking to look at him, unimpressed.

“He seemed nice,” Kate says carefully.

“He’s not,” Jamie replies.

*

“Good summer?” Micah asks, their first show back after the break.

“Brilliant,” Jamie replies with a grin. “It were my turn to choose the destination, so –”

“Ibiza?”

He nods. “Ibiza. The house was done just in time, too.”

“You know, I can’t really imagine Gary in Ibiza.”

“Oh, he hates it. Complained the whole time, but he does that wherever we go.”

He becomes aware that Kate is watching them from across the desk, not trying to hide that she’s listening to their conversation with curiosity. Jamie nods to her, all polite like. “Hows about you, Kate, good summer?”

“It was fine, I –” she shakes her head. “Sorry, you’re saying you go on holiday with Gary Neville?”

Micah scoffs. “Who else would he go with?” he asks, and Jamie points to him in agreement.

“I dunno, his wife?”

Jamie blinks.

He thought he’d got all this out the way, dragging Gary along to the party a couple of months ago. Apparently not.

“Gary is my wife,” he says, then suddenly feels very stupid saying that to someone who’s not already in on the joke, so he corrects to “my husband, I mean. Obviously he’s not – he’s a man. Obviously.”

Kate’s eyes are wide, unblinking. She looks between Jamie and Micah, lips pressed together while her brain seems to be buffering.

“You’re married to a man?” she says eventually. “But you’re not gay, I mean – you’re –”

Jamie, who last time he checked definitely was gay, raises an eyebrow, amused. “I’m what?”

“You’re a footballer,” she attempts, and oh, this is far too easy.

“Bit ‘omophobic, that, sayin’ footballers can’t be gay,” he replies, holding back a smirk.

“Oh shut up, you know what I – you’re a lad! You’re always with the banter, and the…”

Thierry wanders over, freshly brewed cup of tea in hand. “What have you two done this time?” he asks, looking pointedly at Jamie and Micah.

Jamie raises his hands to protest his innocence.

“Thierry,” Kate asks, reaching a hand out towards him, “did you know Jamie’s married to a man?”

Thierry rolls his eyes. “Ugh, fucking Neville,” he replies, and goes to sit down.

[aloneinthehellfire]

Chapter 13: Maybe We Are Crazy

Season One | Season Two | Season Three | Season Four

Raining Hellfire: Season Four

Word Count: 2244 words

Warnings: swearing, vecna's curse, death, blood, flashback

[A/N: so... before you read this... please don't hate me. and bring tissues. cause i cried a lot]

Maybe We Are Crazy

“Nancy?!”

Steve repeats her name over and over but the fluttering of her eyelids never falter. She was caught in Vecna’s trap. And she wasn’t escaping.

Above you, yells and cries for music and tapes echoed around the trailer. They weren’t going to find what they were looking for. Not in Eddie’s collection.

“Shit! What do I-” Steve panics, shaking his head. “What do I do?!”

You stare at your friend’s blank face, your heart breaking at the sight. She is your best friend and she needed help. She needed you.

“I can help her.” You finally say and his eyes quickly glance at you.

“What?”

“I can help her. Like I helped Max.” You repeat and this time, he really focuses on you.

“Y/n, no. Nancy!-” He stresses, hands still on Nancy’s shoulder. “Hello!- You can’t do that every again, it- it almost killed you- Nancy!”

“It’s I do this or she dies, Steve!” You yell at him and he physically reacts, stumbling back.

“Y/n-”

“I’m doing this.” You’re already placing your hand in Nancy’s, looking at her milky white eyes, your own misting over. “I’m not losing her.”

Steve stands beside you, conflicted. He wouldn’t let Nancy die, not in a million years, but he had also seen what your power did to you. He couldn’t lose you too.

“Please.” He begs and you squeeze your eyes shut.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper out and hope he doesn’t try and pull you away.

Taking a deep breath, you focus.

Brunette, curled hair she would spend hours on, shaping it to frame her jawline. Her blue eyes underneath long black eyelashes. A small and shy smile always lifting onto her face whenever someone complimented her, the way she would laugh. The shake of her head as she explained her findings, the tense of her shoulders when she was willing to fight. All the things you admired about Nancy Wheeler.

help!

Everything faded to black and you felt yourself tethering onto something.

anyone!

You open your eyes to find yourself stood in a blinking hallway, echoes of screams drifting across the walls.

You look down, a gasp leaving your lips as you see dead bodies, disfigured like Vecna’s victims. As you stare longer, you feel sick. They were children.

There’s a loud clatter from ahead and you immediately run towards it.

“God!”

Nancy’s voice rings out just as you turn the corner, seeing Nancy trying to escape the hallway by breaking away wooden planks blocking her exit.

And, behind her, Vecna stalked closer to her.

“Hey!” You yell out and Nancy turns her head to yours, her wide eyes glittering with tears.

“You aren’t supposed to be here” Vecna tilts his head at you and you swallow your fear.

“Neither is Nancy.” You reply, walking closer.

Nancy takes the opportunity to break through the wood, splintering it to pieces and she rushes through the doors, away from Vecna.

He growls at you, milky eyes staring deep. “Leave”

“No.” You hold your arms out and feel the power humming through your veins, black dust forming at your fingertips. He wasn’t hurting her as long as you were here.

Vecna steps back. “You will regret this”

Suddenly, the lights disappear and plunge you into darkness, the only sound emitting from your heavy breaths. When they flicker back on, Vecna has disappeared and you lower your arms, breathing heavily. What the-

Nancy screams and you sprint into action, running to the doors she had escaped through and pushing through them into a darker room.

“Y/n.” Nancy whimpers and you see her sat down in a chair, vines pinning her to the seat as Vecna stands over her, giant claws still hovering over her face.

He ignores you completely, holding out his other hand and sending you crashing back into the wall, Nancy’s yells ringing in your head as you land heavy on the ground.

Struggling to stand, you collapse back onto the floor. The force had thrown you hard enough to knock the wind from your body and you gasp for air.

You needed to stop him.

“I… want you to tell Eleven and Y/n…” Vecna leans in closer to Nancy and you struggle to stand, head throbbing. “I want you to tell them everything you see...”

You can’t focus properly on his words, anger coursing through you as you watch Nancy’s head flip back, Vecna’s claws directly over her face as her eyes flutter.

There’s a flash of black across your vision before you snap into action.

“No!” You scream, holding your hand out and black dust shoots towards him like a dagger.

It hits him fast and hard as he flies backwards, the particles buzzing around him, restricting his movement. You had thrown him with enough anger to send him bursting through the wall, crumbles of debris left behind. The gap in the wall revealed a red space, littered with vines and floating objects. Your breath hitches.

You quickly scramble to your feet and run to Nancy, tugging at the vines to set her free. She gasps awake, face permanently frowned in terror.

“Y/n.” She breathes out as you manage to rip a vine away, kicking at the ones wrapped around her ankles.

“I’m getting you out, okay?” You assure, sending the heel of your boot straight through the black bond and watching as it squeals in pain. “Come on, quick.”

You slip your arm around Nancy, helping her out of the chair and moving her away from the room.

“He…” Nancy tries, but she doesn’t have the energy to finish her sentence. You partly carry her away from the room, back into the hallway.

“How do we get out?” You stress, looking every way possible. But there was no window of hope, no portal you could escape through.

“Just remember…”

You spin around, eyes wide. Vecna stands at the doors, looking at you with his head tilted down.

“… you did this”

You couldn’t react in time.

Vecna’s arm reached out and Nancy flew out of your arms, a scream leaving her lips as Vecna uses the black dust you had shot at him to pierce through her chest.

Your vision blurred, something breaking inside of you as Nancy collapsed to the ground, whimpering in fear and pain.

“NANCY!!” You cry, stumbling over to where she lay, blood spilling from her lips. “No, NO! Stay with me, Nance! Stay-”

As you beg and plead, her terrified eyes stared back at you, hand reaching out to grip onto yours. She couldn’t speak, blood pouring too quickly into her mouth. Your tears are streaming down now, gaze flickering to the ever-growing stain on her striped shirt.

“I-” Nancy tries, her grip tightening on your hand. She was trying to hold on.

You keep looking around for some sort of sign. Some kind of miracle that would save Nancy and tell you this was all just a bad dream.

It shouldn’t be possible, to die like this in a world that didn’t exist. And yet, as she struggled for air, you felt your connection drifting further and further away.

“Please don’t leave me.” You whisper out, Nancy squeezing her eyes shut before a tear slips down her face.

She chokes one last time before her eyes roll back. Her chest is still, body motionless on the ground.

“Nancy?”

Tears drop from your cheeks, patting against her skin. She didn’t respond. And you couldn’t feel her anymore.

“Nancy??”

You couldn’t breathe. Her head was lolled back, the grip on your hand non-existent.

You immediately pull it back into your hand, as if the touch would wake her up.

Standing in the principal’s office was as awkward as you imagined it would be.

The woman kept sending you brief smiles, waiting for your ‘tour-guide’ to show up. You couldn’t help the jump in your heart anytime she continued reading your file. Did she know why you were moved here?

Then, to your relief, there’s a soft knock on the door.

“Enter.” The principal allowed and the door slowly opened, a young girl poking her head around the corner. “Ah, good, you’re here. Please join us.”

Once the girl entered the room, you couldn’t help but stare. It was almost like the polar opposite of you; her hair was permed and pretty, soft against her wide blue eyes and shy smile. She was wearing a light blue and pink dress, hands fiddling with the sides of the skirt as she raises her chin with a smile.

“Nancy, meet Y/n.” The principal introduced and the girl smiled at you. “Y/n, this is Nancy Wheeler. She’ll be showing you to your classes today and helping you around the school.”

“Hi.” Nancy smiled at you and, despite the dread you were feeling about your first day, you couldn’t fight your own smile.

Once you were both dismissed, Nancy wasted no time in sharing little stories with you about her first day back and how different it was to middle school. She was a little bundle of joyous light. And you were captivated.

“What about you?” She asks and you blink at her. “Where were you before Hawkins?”

“California.” You reply quietly and she nods with a grin.

“I’ve always wanted to go there! The beach, the sun… Bet you’re missing it already.” She chuckles and you offer a small smile.

“Yeah.” You nod, deciding it best not to trauma-dump on a girl you just met.

“Whereabouts have you moved to?” Nancy leads you down the corridor, reading the slip of paper that detailed your locker.

“Uh...” You furrow your brows, recollecting the street name. “Maple-”

“Maple Street?” She gasps with wide eyes and you panic slightly. Was that bad?

But, instead, she grins when you hesitantly nod. “Oh my god! I live on Maple!”

“Really?” You find yourself smiling again as she stops just outside some lockers, nodding eagerly.

“What house?” Nancy is practically bouncing with joy and a small laugh escapes your lips.

“2540?”

There’s a moment of silence before a grin dimples her face, her suddenly grabbing your hands and holding them in hers.

“I’m at 2530! We’re neighbours!” She gleams with joy, her head tilting at the locker beside her. “In both houses and lockers. We’re gonna be inseparable by the end of the year, I can feel it.”

You genuinely smile at that as she turns to tell you your locker number, dropping one of your hands but still holding onto the other.

You thought Hawkins would be the end for you. But now, meeting this girl, you realised it was only the beginning.

Nancy Wheeler, the girl that instantly befriended you when you had no one else.

Nancy Wheeler, the girl that took you into her family without a second thought.

Nancy Wheeler, the girl that broke your heart and spent the time piecing it back together again.

Nancy Wheeler, the girl that loved you not despite but regardless of all your wrongs.

Nance, your best friend.

Nancy. Nancy was-

“Dead” Vecna finishes your thought and you turn your head to him, your chest tightening as a sob leaves your lips. “I just wanted to show her where I was going. Allow her to know how this all ends. She would be my messenger”

“What…” A cry of pain leaves your lips as you sit, defeated, on the floor, hands shaking. “Why would you…”

“Because you need to learn the consequences.”

A strike of paralysing guilt struck your chest. You ruined it all.

Nancy would have been fine. Vecna was trying to tell you he wouldn’t kill her. And you let your anger take control of you. You let your power kill her.

“No.” You breathe out, whimpers of realisation leaving your lips as you gasp back cries.

“I wonder what they will think of you”

Those are the last words you hear from Vecna’s lips before everything fades to black, your body drifting away once the connection broke for good between you and Nancy…

You gasp for air, body aching.

Sitting up straight, you wipe away the black blood dripping from your nose, hand held in front of you as you watch the black veins fade.

In the corner of your eye, you see an object on the ground not far from you, someone stood by it. You turn your head and a sob immediately hitches in your throat.

Steve was stood with tear stained cheeks, staring down at Nancy’s lifeless body.

Tears spill from your own eyes as you slowly stumble up, shaking your head.

“This is your fault.” Steve says quietly and you whip your head to him.

“No, no- I- I didn’t-” You stutter, heart racing faster and faster until you were sure it would burst.

“You killed her.” He stares directly at you and you stop moving. The way he was looking at you, it was murderous.

“Steve…” Your voice was barely a whisper, eyes squeezing shut. You should have listened to him.

“You…” You hear him say again and you gulp down your cries. “You killed your best friend.”

Your eyes fly open. Steve was still glaring at you, but his eyes weren’t the warm brown you were so used to. He slowly looks down at Nancy’s body and fear strikes your spine.

You follow his eyeline, forcing yourself to look at her. You almost scream.

Nancy wasn’t led on the floor anymore.

It wasn’t her body.

It was Lillian’s.

Chapter 14: Alone ->

[A/N: i will be taking no questions at this time thank you and goodnight]

taglist: @gnnnne / @beepisbeep / @paintballkid711 / @eddiesbirdie / @livasaurasrex / @darktimelegends / @jackierose902109 / @mvrylee / @chervbs / @eternallyvenus / @nervouscatsuit / @f1nn-wolfhard / @hereiamhereigo / @ladybug0095 / @fangirling-4-ever / @astrolockley / @mothmanatemycat / @sheisjoeschateau / @champagnejoker / @umidktbh / @fallinginlovewithqueue / @ilovetaylorswift132006 / @live-the-fangirl-life / @sadbitchfangirl /

[camillafanfiction]

Christmas lights

Up above candles on air flicker Oh, they flicker, and they flow And I'm up here holding onto All those chandeliers of hope And like some drunken Elvis singing I go singing out of tune Singing how I always loved you, darling And I always will

Oh, when you're still waiting for the snow to fall It doesn't really feel like Christmas at all Still waiting for the snow to fall It doesn't really feel like Christmas at all

⁓ Coldplay

14.12.1973, London

The festive baubles glittered and glimmered as couples danced and friends raised their glasses while the DJ played one Christmas hit after another. This year’s Christmas hit “Merry Xmas” by Slade had already been played more than once but nobody seemed to be sick of it as of now. This was one of the most glamorous Christmas parties of the season and everybody had dressed to impress. Camilla didn’t make an exception, she looked fabulous in a dark green sequined dress with a low neckline and shimmered wonderfully as she swirled on the dance floor and moved her body to the rhythm of the music. Andrew had very much looked like a proud husband when the couple had arrived but as the clock hand moved past midnight he couldn’t be seen anymore. At least not by Camilla, but she appeared to be perfectly happy. As usual, she was the life of the party and didn’t need to worry about company or a dance partner. Friends and socialites had rallied around her and people threw their heads back in laughter as she cracked jokes and made naughty remarks. As usual, she was one of the stars of the season, and rightly so.

Charles, however, had seen Andrew in the arms of another busty blonde about half an hour ago, before they had disappeared out of his sight as well. The venue was crowded, but he had kept eagle eyes on both, Camilla, and Andrew. He had tried to concentrate on his dance partners, but he had ignored all of the flirting attempts as his eyes had been stuck. Stuck on her. The only lady he was interested in. Still.

But they hadn’t spoken a word tonight, they hadn’t even greeted each other, there just hadn’t been any opportunity – Charles wasn’t even sure she had noticed his attendance, but his arrival usually meant lots of ‘ahs’ and ‘ohs’, so she probably had… Maybe it was best as it would cause too much heart-pain and would be too awkward anyway, but Charles was still hoping for at least one little opportunity to say “hi!”. It would be an early Christmas present as they hadn’t spoken since Anne’s wedding to Mark on his 25th birthday, exactly one months ago. What a dreadful day it had been, Charles sighed, what a dreadful year actually.

Camilla’s hair fell in short, soft waves, framing her beautiful face. She looked simply perfect from head to toe and, once again, Charles couldn’t understand how Andrew could cheat on someone like Camilla. They weren’t even married for six months. Andrew had the freaking audacity to get lucky enough to marry Camilla and not stopping his philandering. What the hell was wrong with this man?! He just couldn’t bear thinking about it. If he spent just one other thought on Andrew, he’d go mad.

After another endless 20 minutes of upbeat Christmas songs, he finally spotted Camilla walking over to one of the waiters with a silly Father Christmas hat on, probably asking for her signature drink, a gin tonic with a slice of lemon. This was the moment Charles realized he was in a desperate need for a drink, too, excused himself from the girl whose name he’d already forgotten again and hustled to the same waiter, slowing down when he came closer.

Camilla was taken by surprise, Charles could see it the second their eyes met, and she bobbed down in a curtsey, lowering her eyes. “Hello, Your Royal Highness,” she said formally, feeling slightly ridiculous by the formality of the situation.

“Hello you,” Charles replied way more intimate and moved slightly forward to place a soft kiss on both her cheeks. “Nice to see you again.”

In fact, it was much more than “nice” to see her again, to inhale her smell even in that crowded room, to feel the warmth of her soft hand, the tickle of her cheeky curls… Charles knew he shouldn’t feel that way about another man’s wife, but he couldn’t help it. This time last year she had still been his…

“Very nice indeed.” Camilla almost looked shy and blushed but found her usual confident self again within the blink of an eye. “I seem to have lost my husband about two hours ago,” she tried to joke and ignored the queasiness in the pit of her stomach. Five months into her marriage she had realized that being married hadn’t really changed Andrew and that, though they were actually experiencing wedded bliss, he still couldn’t keep his eyes and, unfortunately, hands off other women.

For a moment, Charles considered telling her that he’d seen her disappearing with the blonde beauty, but then decided against it as he didn’t want to ruin her Christmas or, even worse, hurt her. Instead, he opted to awkwardly compliment her, kneading his hands, and resisting the urge to touch her again. “You look wonderful tonight.”

Camilla flashed him a smile, murmuring “Thank you!”, and in a rush of intimacy pushed him over to one of the tables in the corner where it was a bit quieter. Unfortunately, it was before either of them realised that they had ended up in the lover’s lane with couples around them passionately snogging and even more. “Oh my God!”, Camilla giggled, looking around, well noticing that Charles’ face had turned red. “I seem to have for-“

“Kiss me!” Charles suddenly declared and Camilla wasn’t sure if she’d understood him correctly. However, before she was able to give him an asking or indignant glance, she felt soft lips on hers, just for a millisecond, so quick she couldn’t be sure it had been reality or a just a wild dream, a vision of what her most inner self was secretly wishing for.

It must have been the gin, Camilla decided. Why on earth should she wish to kiss her ex-beau?! She was happily married to the man she had always wanted to marry, and they had loads of fun trying to make a baby at every given opportunity. “Would you like to dance?”, Charles asked innocently and grabbed her arm to push her to the dance floor where people were shaking their legs to the sound of “I wish it could be Christmas everyday” by Wizzard, another top 10 hit that, for Charles’ taste, had been played more than enough tonight. But it didn’t matter, he had Camilla in his arms and swirled her around, he had kissed her, only a millisecond and so quick she hadn’t grasped it, but he had tasted her lips and they had felt as soft as last year. He would later regret it, he already knew, he would die of heartache and the pain of missing her even more than before. He would spend Christmas just as depressed as always and count the hours till he could be back onboard that bloody ship again that would take him to shores far away from her, but not the love for her he carried in his heart and couldn’t let go. It didn’t particularly help that the DJ now opted for “I Love You Love Me Love” by Garry Glitter, who sang of a couple whose love had won against all odds. Charles tried not to listen to the lyrics but solely focus on the music instead, but having Camilla’s body so close brought back memories of times when he thought he might be able to call her his wife one day. Maybe if he’d been brave enough to ask her last year, on his 24th birthday maybe… But who on earth married aged 24 in this time and age, especially as a prince?! There was no use in dwelling in the past, Charles knew, but it hurt so very much.

“In the mood for another drink?”, Camilla asked when she found they were dancing a bit too familiar and intimate when a slow song started to play.

Charles tried to hide his disappointment, but knew she was right, so he nodded. “Okay.”

“Martini, Sir?”, she winked and added “Shaken, not stirred?” That made him laugh with his eyes, Camilla noticed relieved. She didn’t want to hurt him, this had never been her intention, but she’d made the right decision for herself with marrying Andrew, hadn’t she? Charles had been a fling, Andrew was her true love, the man she was destined to be with. Two or three times when Andrew had come home late on a Friday evening and had smelt of another women’s perfume, she’d caught herself thinking that this wouldn’t have happened with Charles, that she’d be more appreciated… but she’d made the right decision, she had snatched her fetching soldier, and she was so excited for her first Christmas as a wife. She’d already planned everything from the dinner to the music to the decorations. It would simply be perfect…

His hair a bit too accurate, Andrew suddenly appeared behind Charles, a bright grin upon his face. “Hello poppet,” he greeted his wife, placing a fierce kiss on her mouth before greeting Charles with a small bow of his head. “Nice to see you, Sir. I hope my wife hasn’t bothered you too much with talking about her plans for Christmas all night…”

“Not at all.”, Charles stated, smiling at Camilla, and giving Andrew a stern look.

“Well… good…” Andrew commented and casually took a huge sip out of his whiskey glass, emptying it and putting it on the next bar table. “C’mon, poppet, let’s rock the dance floor,” he declared then, wrapping his strong arms around her waist and winking at her.

Camilla gave Charles an apologetic glance, detached herself from her husband for a moment and placed swift kisses on both of Charles’ cheeks. “I’ll see you… Happy Christmas!”, she said before being drawn away by her husband onto the dance floor.

For a few moments Charles masochistically watched them kissing and dancing like lovers (or newly married couples) do before emptying his glass with one sip as well, cursing the day he was born. Or rather the day Andrew had been born, he wasn’t sure yet. Without taking another look at Camilla and her husband or anyone else again, Charles left the party, knowing he would live from the few moments he’d had with her today till the next time he’d see her again.

[burnwater13]

Concept Art by Ryan Church depicting Moff Gideon standing on top of his crashed Tie Fighter, while holding the Darksaber on Nevarro. Image from The Mandalorian, Season 1, Episode 8, Redemption. Calendar by DateWorks.

Grogu hadn’t even met Moff Gideon and he was already tired of him. Tired of his attitude. Tired of his cruelty. Tired of his thoughtlessness. Tired of his very existence. Grogu couldn’t think of a more selfish, mean-spirited, abusive, liar. Which was saying a lot because Grogu had met Chancellor Palpatine when he visited the Jedi Temple on Coruscant and the tour took him through one of the classrooms where the younglings were getting ready for a lesson on galactic history. 

Grogu remembered seeing his eyes glitter and flash red for just an instant. He told Master Unduli, but since he had no proof other than what his eyes had seen, the Master simply told him that she would keep an eye on the Chancellor during his visit. Sadly, nothing had come of that. He used to think that if he had done something more, perhaps he could have prevented the calamity of Palpatine’s reign. 

Master Beq had assured him, when they discussed the matter during their escape from Coruscant, that many among the Jedi, knights and masters alike, who had spent far more time with the disguised Sith Lord, had failed to even notice as much as Grogu had in a split second and those who had, still did nothing meaningful. That was the insidious power of the dark side. 

Grogu was not about to make that mistake a second time. Moff Gideon was just as clearly of a Sith heritage as Palpatine had been. Okay, he couldn’t use the Force. Yet. That’s right. Yet. The Force connected every living thing. For the time being, Moff Gideon was a living being. That meant that the Force connected to him and he might eventually understand it well enough to put it use. Based on what had happened to the Client and all those stormtroopers, it was pretty clear, the use he put it to was not going to be a good one. 

That was the problem though. How do you defeat an enemy that you know will go to any lengths to get what they want? That have no moral or ethical limitations at all?  It had taken a whole rebellion to be rid of Chancellor Palpatine and that had only been accomplished when there were still a few Jedi on hand to help. Even with that, people like Moff Gideon had managed to escape punishment. Who knew how many others like him still terrorized planets that thought the Empire had fallen? 

Grogu suspected it was more than a few. Just like the Sith, these people were adept at blending into their surroundings until they were safe; their networks of spies and informants keeping them up to date on everything that was happening around the galaxy, or at least the section they had cared about. Making deals with cut throats and not caring about double crossing them whenever necessary. If he thought about them for too long it just made him sad and tired and frustrated. 

It was at those moments he would remember something Master Yoda used to tell the younglings. ‘Sorrow, the opposite of joy, is not. Two may be true at once.’ Grogu knew that was important to remember. Many things could be true at the same time. Grogu could be frustrated and tired, but he was also motivated to prevent harm to his friends and he had a lot of friends. He could focus on more than one thing and accomplish his goals without losing balance. He just had to trust himself. And his friends.

Yes, Moff Gideon may be trying very hard to kidnap Grogu, but just because he wanted that didn't mean he would succeed. Greedy people wanted everything, but they never achieved that. It may motivate them, but it didn’t satisfy them. Nothing did. They weren’t whole and they never would be. They didn’t have friends to help them. They had accomplices and that just wasn’t the same. 

In the meantime, Grogu needed to have a long discussion with his protector, the Mandalorian, about the provisions on board the Razor Crest. It seemed like the bounty hunter enjoyed ration packs and broth. Grogu enjoyed the broth, but really found ration packs to be akin to eating modeling materials. Yes, they were technically nutritious, and they smelled okay, more or less, but they were the wrong shape, the wrong color, and the wrong texture. They had no crunchy bones and an utter lack of unexpected sweetness. They were boring and predictable. In many ways they were the Sith of food. He got sick just thinking about them. 

Then he started to laugh. He suddenly had the image of Moff Gideon being handed a ration pack. Looking at it. Studying it like a scientific specimen and then calling a stormtrooper over with just a crook of his finger. 

“What, pray tell, is this? As it certainly isn’t food. Food has shape. It has substance. It has palatability.  It entices. It refreshes. It fulfills basic needs. What else do you have that isn’t this?”

That stormtrooper looks over to his comrades and discovers that they have all abandoned their posts. It’s up to him. The stormtrooper is practically fainting he’s so worried about being the only target for the Moff’s wrath.

“Liquid rations, sir?” 

“Liquid rations?! Liquid rations!”

Moff Gideon is incensed by the mere thought of the suggestion. Then he picks up a piece of something from the ration pack and takes a bite. 

“It needs salt.”

“Of course, sir!,” and the stormtrooper runs away. 

Grogu giggled again. Things could be worse depending on your expectations and even the greedy have to make do. That, at least, was satisfying. For now. 

[catgirlxox]

Because it’s relevant again, I still stand by what I said about why I liked the way Ben was written in "So Long and Thanks for all the Smoothies." His skepticism is consistent with the fact that he’s learned from trusting too easily in the past (see the early seasons of Alien Force, specifically trusting Darkstar in "All That Glitters" and Simian in "Birds of a Feather") and that being a responsible leader involved taking justified threats seriously. Looking at it from the perspective of someone who already knows that the Annihilarrgh is actually dangerous is missing the fact that it hasn’t been proven to him. The Incurseans were proven as a threat several times, as were the other characters in this episode. Their weapons and technology were proven as threats several times. They were proven to be capable of causing serious damage with no regard for bystander safety or casualties. They could very likely use the thing as leverage to hold hostages or start some other serious conflict, but this tiny non-threating box itself was not immediately an obvious or justifiable threat.

In fact, all Ben was told was that the Annihilarrgh was a fairy tale and apparently the supposed creators of this thing were known to have a dark sense of humor. It could have very well been fake, from his pov.

And if we're going to discuss the writing from a reasonable pov - as in what the writers were actually trying to do - then they definitely weren’t trying to portray him as a "sociopath" in the last scene. They were most likely trying to end the episode relatively light hearted because of network demands or censorship. If you were actually dealing with a sociopath, you likely wouldn’t know because the point is that they mimic the appropriate social response in order to blend in. Like why the fuck does no one know the most fundamental aspect of the diagnosis they’re throwing around.