#i hope i captured his spirit in some way

[raspberrydrewthese]

birthday gift for @ohlookaperson ! :D

[somnimagus]

My page for @sheikahzine; about Impaz's duty to her village, empty of people and full of memories.

[id in alt text]

[strwbwrrybunny]

doe eyed gal. kento nanami. 6k.

cw ᯓᡣ𐭩 nsfw link, oral, feet-fucking, squirting,creaming,hair pulling,handcuffs,anal plug,vibrator,spanking,unprotected sex, umm reader is on the thicker side (yummy), black bimbo,dirty talk.omfg I think that’s all . . . i lied, older!nanami has a crush on his young college neighbor! he luvvvvs watching you through his upstairs window. ironically, he’s also a police officer. woop woop!

a/n ᯓᡣ𐭩 i made a poll and daddy nanami won sooo, enjoy? i also based some of this on project x lollll. okay bye!

kento nanami never thought he’d be crushing on someone almost ten years younger than him. he thought it was nice when you’d moved in next door; the neighborhood didn’t get many new people in the area often. he would be lying if he said he hadn’t pulled back his blinds to watch as you moved your things in. hell, it was damn near impossible not to look at you.

with that tight mini skirt that your ass peeked from underneath and that cropped shirt that showed off your sparkling belly ring, the way your hair had swished in the wind, the way your smile was bright when you laughed—he found it all extremely enticing.

it’d become a part of his daily routine to peer at you through his blinds.on one hand, he was intrigued by your youthful energy and carefree spirit. you brought a certain vibrancy to the neighborhood that had been missing for a while. on the other hand, he was frustrated by the way you seemed to effortlessly capture his attention. it was as if you had some kind of magnetic pull that he couldn’t resist, and it irritated him to no end.

every time he caught a glimpse of you, his mind would wander. he often found himself thinking about what it would be like with you underneath him, how your moans would sound. were they whiny? deep? high?

he imagined what your voice sounded like, the sound of your laughter up close,the way your eyes might light up when you talked about something you were passionate about. but then, he’d shake his head, reminding himself that there was no point in entertaining such thoughts. after all, there was a significant age gap between you two, and he had no business getting involved with someone so much younger.

yet, despite his best efforts to ignore his hot younger neighbor, he couldn’t. he’d roll his eyes when you’d lead yet another guy by the hand into the house, a pang of jealousy rippling through his body. he put money on it that he could fuck you better than they ever could. he didn’t care if he was being irrational, he couldn’t push those thoughts of you from his mind, you plagued it.

currently, nanami kento is outside cutting his grass with a lush lawnmower. it’d been raining all week, and now that the sun was out, he was going to use this opportunity to get some work done on the outside of his home. the lawnmower hummed rhythmically as he pushed it across the yard, its blades slicing through the thick, wet grass. sweat glistened on his inked muscles, tracing rivulets down his arms and chest. the sun beamed off his tanned olive skin, highlighting the intricate designs of his tattoos. the air was filled with the fresh scent of cut grass, and the sound of birds chirping added a serene backdrop to his labor.

he figured you weren’t home today since he didn’t see your blue honda outside, he was kind of bummed. usually, he’d pay someone to cut his grass due to his busy schedule. but this time he’d decided to do it himself, a part of him hoping he’d finally get a chance to speak to you. just his luck you wouldn’t be home. why the fuck was he acting like some lovesick teenager? that was just the effect you had on him.

he’s startled as he feels a pair of cold hands against his shoulders. he quickly spins around, meeting those familiar brown eyes he’d seen from the window many times. fuck, you’re even sexier up close. your dark hair is pulled into two pigtails with pink bows holding them in place, big lips lined with brown with a glossy coat, your makeup is a dewy pristine canvas, wispy lashes framing your big brown doe eyes perfectly.

his dick twitches as you suck a lollipop, eyes staring into his vibrant brown ones as you pop it out of your mouth with an innocent smile. fuck. you have to be doing this on purpose, were you? the way your tongue slowly swirled around the candy before pulling it out was almost hypnotic. the sweet scent of the lollipop mixed with the faint aroma of your perfume, creating an intoxicating blend that made it hard for him to think straight.

“m’sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.i’m ʚ♡ɞ,” you giggle, extending your hand to the older man. your eyes unashamedly eye-fuck him; he’s cute . . . for an older man. a pair of black sweatpants hang dangerously low on his hips, his broad, strong frame slicked with sweat. and the tattoos? chef’s fucking kiss. his striking dirty blonde hair is slicked back with sweat, and god you’re a slut for a man with pretty eyes. whoever’s son this was, they had created a damn masterpiece.

nanami swallows thickly, eyes trailing your body. you’re wearing a tied crop top, juicy brown breasts spilling from the thin material. he’s pretty fucking sure you aren’t wearing a bra, seeing as he can see your hard nipples pressing against your shirt. you’re wearing a white, almost too small bikini bottom, pussy lips straining against the material. he didn’t have a foot fetish but, he wouldn’t mind sucking on your manicured toes . . . or letting them stroke his dick. he clears his throat, grasping your hand. it’s warm and soft in his larger, calloused one.

“kento nanami, but you can just call me nanami, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“strong grip mister kento,” you grin, lingering with your hand is his for a bit longer before you pull away. god . . . even your voice is so perfect, sweet and sultry. do you have any flaws?

“please, just call me nanami. you stay next door, right?” he asks, trying to restrain himself from pouncing on you like a wild animal. he already knows the answer, but he doesn’t want to let on that he’s been spying. the lawn mower still hums behind him, and he grips the handle tightly to keep himself grounded.

“yeah! haha, i do. gosh, i’m embarrassed we’ve been neighbors for half a year and i’m just now formally meeting you.” your neck grows hot; had you known this sexy ass man stayed here you would’ve been pulling the weeds from your garden more often.

he shakes his head, had it really been six months? it didn’t even feel that long. “nonsense, it’s my fault i should’ve welcomed you to the neighborhood,” he tucks his hands in his pockets looking down at you. the height difference is stark between you two, perfect height for your lips to wrap around his cock.

“you’re in uni, right?”

you nod, “that obvious?" you laugh, swiping a piece of rebellious hair behind your ear. "just don’t see a lot of young faces around," he adds. once again, he knows the answer but wants to ask to clear himself of suspicion. you nod, agreeing. "makes sense. this town is so damn boring."

"so, nanami," you raise your perfectly waxed brows playfully. "what do you do?”

"i’m an, uh, police officer." he tries to sound casual, but you can sense a bit of hesitation. that’s hot . . . your mind trails to him fucking you while your hands are cuffed behind your back. your stomach clenches and you find yourself crossing your legs.

“nice, that’s pretty cool,” you giggle,“oh yeah! totally forgot why i came over here. my friends and i are raising money, we’re washing cars around the neighborhood. would you be interested?” he tries to ignore his screaming cock as you look up through those wispy lashes and latch your lips around the sucker again.

he’d zoned out halfway through you talking, something about raising money and his car. fuck, he wished that lollipop was him. you’re so pretty, with your lips glistening and eyes sparkling, he’s not even sure what he’s agreed to as he nods his head in a trance. he’s surprised when you squeal and pull him into a hug, your juicy boobs pressing against his chest, the warmth of your body igniting a fire inside him.

“thank you!” you pull away after a few seconds, and he hopes you hadn’t felt his dick throbbing against you.

“uh, no problem. so, what’s the money for?” he asks, trying to keep his voice steady.

you lean in close, the scent of your strawberry-scented hair making his mouth water and his heart race. “school project, but between me and you, alcohol. having a party tonight, you should come mister officer.” a smile tugs on his lips, he’ll be sure to give you an extra tip . . . he wants to place a fifty right between your pretty tits, imagining how they’d feel against his skin.

“i see, i would but i’ve got work in the morning.do i need to move my car?” he questions, glancing at his truck parked underneath a tree. he notices the summer pollen and leaves stuck to his windshield, realizing it wasn’t a good look. maybe a wash would let him gawk at you more.

he swears he could bust a nut right there as you drag the soapy rag across his car, leaning over to wet the bottom of his truck. your friends are dressed skimpier than you, one girl wearing what looks like literal fucking floss. yet, his eyes stay on you. the way you’re bending down, showing off your perfect stretch-marked ass has him cutting his grass so slow he might as well have been doing it with a pair of scissors.

you’re giggling as your friends spray you with water, covering your face and running around his truck. your titties are fully visible now and he has to bite the inside of his cheek to stop from groaning.

“ugh, i’m so wet.” he hears you whine. not as wet as you’ll be when he’s done with you. he can’t cut his grass forever, and he’s a bit sad when you begin finishing up cleaning his truck. he’s definitely gonna need to get rid of this erection; it’s unbearable.

it’s not long before you’re skipping over to him, that child-like smile on your face at having made his car look brand new. “so,” you stand beside him shoulder to shoulder, “watcha think?” you admire the car, you did pretty damn good if you had to say.

nanami nods, “looks amazing, thank you. let me get my wallet from inside.” he watches you nod before he heads inside to grab some cash. he snatches it up from the stand by the door and quickly goes back outside. you watch as he fishes out a fifty, your eyes widen. this man must be crazy, you were only charging five and here he is handing you a fifty.

“are you sure?” you question, hesitantly grabbing the crisp bill from him. mmm. . . you love a man who doesn’t mind splurging on you, maybe you’ll make him your sugar daddy.

“of course.”

you smile brightly, “wow, thanks. that’s awfully generous.” your eyes sparkle with excitement, and he can’t help but smile at your joy.

“well, you did an amazing job on my truck. i hardly even recognize it. i should be the one thanking you, get yourself a bottle. on me.” he says, his voice warm and genuine, making your heart flutter a little.

“coolest cop i know, guess i’ll see you around?” you question, folding the bill before tucking it between your breasts. he nods, and you give a small smile before walking away. his eyes are glued to your juicy ass, the way your body moves so effortlessly has him drooling. he stares all the way until you walk back into your home. damn, who knew a woman could have this effect on him?

he stood there for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts. he tried to get you out of his head but every time he closed his eyes images of you flashed though his head.

he needed a cold shower.

when you said party he didn’t know you meant your own fucking personal project x. a little party was no big deal. he had been to his fair share of college parties back in the day. but this? this was something else entirely. as the night wore on, more and more cars lined the street, and the volume of the music seemed to increase exponentially. the bass thumped through the walls, making his bed vibrate. he could hear the unmistakable sounds of people yelling, laughing, and . . . was that someone singing karaoke?

he should’ve known it’d be trouble the moment he saw you and a group of friends carrying large paper bags into the house later in the evening. he had assumed those bags were filled with alcohol and, judging by the raucous laughter and clinking bottles, he was right.

he groaned loudly, pulling his pillow over his face in a futile attempt to muffle the noise. it was no use. the sounds of cheering, shouting, and what he could only describe as chaos filled the night air. he couldn't help but think about how inconsiderate these people were, how inconsiderate you were.

he couldn't take it anymore.the pounding bass, the shouting, the laughter—it was all too much. throwing the covers off, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. as he slipped on his bedroom slippers and grabbed his jacket, he muttered to himself, "this is ridiculous it’s three fucking am.”

stepping outside, he was greeted by a scene straight out of a movie.the street was littered with red solo cups, and groups of drunken college kids staggered around, shouting and laughing. as he made his way down the block, he pushed through clusters of people. "excuse me," he muttered, though he doubted anyone could hear him over the noise.

"oo,who's dad?" one of the girls in a group giggled as he passed by. another chimed in, "he’s kinda hot for a dad." nanami rolled his eyes and kept moving, ignoring their comments. he wasn't here to make friends; he was here to get some peace and quiet.

finally, he reached the house. the music was deafening up close, and he could feel the vibrations under his feet. he took a deep breath, and raised his fist and knocked on the door. the door, already weakened by the night's festivities, splintered slightly under the weight of his knock.

as the door swings open, he's met with your face. you're obviously tipsy, the way you're hanging onto the door with a lazy smile.

“oh my god! nanami, i’m so glad you could make it.” you giggle, throwing your arms around his neck.he stiffens, arms instinctively wrapping around your frame. he admits it feels nice, and your hair smells so damn good and so do you. he shakes his head, he’s here to stand on business.

"i don't mean to be a dick. especially after you washed my car but this ridiculous," he stresses, running his hands over his face. you barely hear anything he says over the roar of the music, he showed up to your party and that’s all that really matters to you. he’s so sexy, you want to kiss him. he protest as you retract from him and grab his hand pulling him inside the house, shutting the door behind you.

“i—“ he starts, you cut him off.

"shh,i wanna show you something," you whisper, leading him upstairs. he follows, albeit hesitantly, feeling the warmth of your hand seeping into his. every step feels like it's taking him deeper into a dream he can't wake up from. the noise from the party fades into the background as you ascend, replaced by the sound of your soft giggles and his own racing heartbeat.

once at the top of the stairs, you lead him down a dimly lit hallway and into your room. the door clicks shut behind you.you turn to face him, still holding his hand, and he can see the playful glint in your eyes. his eyes drop to the corset you’re wearing, titties threatening to spill out. fuck, what’s with you and never wearing a full outfit.

"ʚ♡ɞ , what are we doing here?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.he’s trying to keep his composure, but the proximity, and the way your eyes are locked onto his, it's all too much. he pinches himself to make sure he’s not dreaming.

you don't answer immediately. instead , you step closer, your free hand reaching up to trace the line of his jaw. he tenses, your touch sends a shiver down his spine, and he finds himself leaning into it despite his better judgment. "i just wanted to be alone with you," you murmur, your breath warm against his skin.

before he can respond, you close the distance between you, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that’s both gentle and insistent. his mind races, a thousand thoughts colliding at once, but all he can focus on is the way you feel against him. the taste of you, the softness of your lips, the way your body molds to his—it’s intoxicating.

he wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer as the kiss deepens. all the stress, the annoyance, it melts away, replaced by a warmth that spreads through his entire being.

“m’fuck me, officer, i’ve been a bad girl.” you moan softly against his lips, your core throbbing at his touch. his hands roam your body, sending shivers down your spine. the heat between you intensifies.

his hands hold you closely as he walks you backwards towards your bed, pushing you on it softly,electing a small gasp from your lips.

“you’re such a fuckin’ tease, y’know that?” he husks, leaning over you. “wearing tight ass shit all the time, drives me fuckin’ crazy seeing your body bust out of your clothes.” his fingers tug up your mini leather skirt, groaning as he sees your bare pussy. “tsk, tsk, tsk. not even wearing any underwear, you’re naughty. you need to be fucked.” you whine at his dirty words, legs spread as he soaks in the sight of you. his eyes darken with desire, and he licks his lips, savoring the moment.

“oh my god,” you whimper, feeling his tongue press firmly against your aching clit. the sensation makes you want to cry out as he moves slowly, savoring every drop of your essence.

your soft moans are like a symphony to his ears, each sound making his cock twitch with need. “s-so good,” you gasp, shuddering as his tongue flicks over your bud. his large grips your thighs and holds your legs open, kneading your soft brown skin between his hands.

“shaking already? i’ve barely touched you, doll.” he murmurs into your pussy, the taste driving him wild. he can't help but moan as he laps up your wetness.the sensation of his tongue exploring you sends shivers down your spine, making your body tremble even more.

"nanamiii!" you drawl his name out blissfully as he nips at your throbbing bud, sending waves of pleasure through your body. each gentle nip and flick of his tongue feels like a spark, igniting your senses and making your toes curl in delight. his hands firmly grip your hips, anchoring you in place as he continues his attentive ministrations, drawing you closer to the edge with every touch.

“you sound so sexy when you say my name,” he grunts and slides a finger inside you, the sensation adding a new layer of intensity to your pleasure. his tongue continues its dedicated work on your sensitive bud, while his finger moves with an expert rhythm, exploring and finding the spots that make you gasp.

“you’re so tight, gotta stretch you.” nanami hums,adding second finger, the fullness and the rhythmic pressure makes your back arch off the bed.his name becomes a chant on your lips, each syllable a testament to the ecstasy he's orchestrating within you.

“f-fingers a-a-re sooo long,” you drool out, your pussy making the most dehumanizing noises as he presses into you.

“mhm, gonna make you cum with em’ sweetheart.” his fingers curl inside you, brushing against your cervix. the combination of his tongue and fingers working in concert sends shockwaves of pleasure through your entire being. desperately, you grip the sheets tightly, your body responding to every thrust and flick with increasing intensity.

the sensation builds, a crescendo of bliss that has you teetering on the brink of release. the world narrows down to the feeling of his touch, the sound of your own ragged breaths, and the overwhelming pleasure that threatens to consume you entirely.

you’re a mess on nanami’s hands, he watches as his beefy digits glisten with your juice each time he pumps fingers into you.

“so f’kin wet,” he listens in admiration at the shlick shlick shlick sounds,”listen to how your pussy is talking to me.” he grins.

he didn’t even know it was possible for a pussy to be this wet . . . he can only imagine how you’ll feel wrapped around his cock.

“tell me what you want princess,” your stomach clenches at his raspy voice,you whimper, trying to find your voice.

“i wanna c-cum!” you sob, feeling his fingers pick up their speed, your body sliding forward from the force of his thrust.

“mm’ i know, you look so pretty all spread out for me.” he rasps, voice laced with lust. you want to scream as he wraps his lips firmly back against your clit, fingers now drilling against your cervix with precision.

nanami presses his free palm against the lower half of your stomach as you began moving, the pleasure is almost too unbearable and you wanna squirm and pull away. but he’s gripping you so tightly you can’t, you can only take the immense pleasure he’s giving you.

“unt unt, stay still.” nanami swirls his tongue around you. your clit seems to have doubled in size, the fat bud visibly throbbing under his tongue. he finds it mesmerizing as he nips at it, fingers pressing deeper into your thighs as they shake.

“o-oh, m so s-sensitive. p-please go easy on her,” you hiccup with closed eyes. you’re a sweaty mess, nanami is eating your pussy like a starved man, leaving no drops of juices from you. you wanna cum on his face so bad . . . if he keeps fucking you so deeply you’ll squirt, you moan at that thought.

“sorry beautiful, easy isn’t in my vocabulary.”

you feel that tight familiar feeling in your stomach as you dig your nails into his messy blonde hair,pulling the silky strands between your fingers. he snuffles through his nose at the sensation, cock pressing uncomfortably against his checkered pajama pants.

your brain seems to short circuit for a minute as your orgasm rushes over you, you’re so damn tender and yet nanami still sucks on your pussy. you’re crying tears as he over-stimulates you, back arching as your eyes roll into the back of your head.

blobs of colors dot your vision as nanami continues his attack on your vulnerable pussy. you have that sensation in your stomach, and he knows what’s coming as you tighten around his fingers. he groans at the sensation, pulling his fingers out of you and quickly spazzing his fingers against your clit.

“fuckkkk yesss,” nanami watches in awe as your pussy gushes clear liquid, coating his shirt and soaking him. he doesn’t care, he wants you to keep squirting. one hand is still pressed against your abdomen, other back inside your throbbing walls.

“finna’ squirt again!” you mewl in pleasure as he once again pulls his fingers out and goes berserk on your clit, moaning softly as you drench the bed. tears cascade down your cheeks as he finally lets up on your poor pussy, this man knows how to spoil a girl.

nanami is a little confused as you slide off the bed, legs shaking from your recent orgasm. you slide open your closet and pull out a pink book bag with an array of hello kitty patches sewn on. he watches as you pull out a bunch of your toys - a bright pink anal plug, cuffs, and a vibrator. his cock twitches in his pants.

"i think i just fell in love with you," he huffs,you giggle as he pulls you into his embrace, fingers desperately stripping you of your skimpy clothing. your head lulls to the side as he presses wet kisses on your neck, shivering as his teeth graze your skin. his touch is both tender and urgent, sending waves of excitement through you.

he admires your naked body, his eyes lingering on every curve and contour. he loves the way your stomach is pudgy, a soft and inviting cushion that he can't resist. the way your hips are wide, creating a beautiful silhouette that captivates him. he loves the way your love handles are soft in his hands.every inch of you is a testament to natural beauty, and he can't help but feel a deep sense of appreciation and affection.

“you’re a masterpiece,” he murmurs against your lips. a smile breaks across your face, he’s so sweet.you slowly undress him, fingers deftly unbuttoning his shirt one by one. his stomach burns with anticipation as you plant slow, lingering kisses along his body, each touch igniting a fire within him. you take your time, savoring the moment, as you peel away his clothes, revealing more of his skin to your tender caresses. every kiss, every gentle touch, sends shivers down his spine, heightening his senses and drawing him deeper into the intoxicating experience.

he watches intently as you sit him onto the bed, grabbing something your vanity. baby oil? god, you’re such a freak. he loves it. “scoot back,” you order, he listens, eyes never leaving yours as you climb onto the bed. you smile, coating your feet in baby oil.he looks so sexy man spread out for you like this . . . you’re gonna make him feel good. beautiful men like him deserve it.

you giggle as his head lulls back as you glide him in between your feet. his thighs tremble as you stroke him with a smile, the soft sound of your skin against his filling the room. his eyes are snapped shut, his face contorting with pleasure.

“do you like this, nanami?” you ask softly, your voice dripping with seduction.

“yes,” he groans, his voice strained. “it feels g-good.”

you increase the pressure, moving your feet with more intensity. “i want to see you lose control,” you whisper, watching his reaction closely.

your pussy grows wet at his breathing becoming more ragged. “don’t stop, please don’t stop.”

you maintain the rhythm, your movements precise and deliberate. “i want to see you come undone,” you say, your own excitement building as you watch him shudder with pleasure.

he looks so damn fine, head lulled back, that blonde hair you desperately want to run your fingers through stringy across his face. his abs glisten with sweat, and you want to run your tongue along the sculpted surface.

“look at me,” you coo.his eyes flutter open and find your big brown doe ones, you can feel him twitch at the eye contact. fuck . . . you’re so damn hot, and to think he thought you were innocent at first. there isn’t an innocent bone in your body as you sit there and stroke his throbbing cock with your feet.

you’ve got him wrapped around your pretty little finger and you know it.

nanami feels an overwhelming mix of sensations as you continue to stroke him with your oiled-up feet. his body is on fire, every nerve ending tingling with pleasure. the soft, slick feel of your skin against his is almost too much to bear, and he can barely keep himself from losing control.

his thighs tremble uncontrollably, a clear sign of how close he is to the edge. the tension in his muscles is almost painful, and he can feel his heart pounding in his chest. each stroke sends a wave of pleasure coursing through him, making it harder and harder to hold back.

as he listens to your soft, encouraging words, a sense of desperation builds within him. he wants nothing more than to let go, to give in to the pleasure and let it consume him. but he also wants to savor the moment, to stretch out the feeling for as long as possible.

when he finally admits that he can’t hold on much longer, it’s a relief. your response, urging him to let go, is exactly what he needs to hear. the pace of your movements increases, and he feels himself teetering on the brink.

the moment of release is like an explosion. his body tenses, every muscle contracting as he finally gives in. the pleasure is intense, almost overwhelming, and he can feel it radiating out from his core, spreading through his entire body.

“shit!” he whines, roping cum across your feet as you continue stroking him, milking his needy cock dry. his chest heaves as he attempts to catch his breath, “you’re messy.” you grin, sliding off the bed to fetch a towel.

“where the hell did you learn that?” nanami suddenly finds his voice.you shrug you shoulders, cleaning your feet. “i’ll never tell,”

you're caught off guard when nanami grabs you and cuffs your hands behind your back. "am i under arrest?" you snicker, but your laugh is immediately replaced by a wince as he yanks your head back by your hair. his breath is hot against your ear as he whispers, "indeed. anything you say can and will be used against you in bed," he smirks, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

he pushes you onto the bed stomach first, and you grunt as you struggle to balance with your hands restrained. “ughhhmm,” you bury your face into the sheets, a mix of pain and pleasure coursing through you as you feel the butt plug prod against your asshole. nanami grins in delight, watching as you whine, your asshole greedily eating up the plug, the sensation making you shiver with a twisted sense of satisfaction.

the faint humming of the vibrator fills your ears, and you expect him to put it against your clit, but he doesn’t. "what are you doing?" you gasp, straining against the cuffs. he smirks, not answering, and you feel him push the tiny vibrator inside your cunt.

"oh god," you moan, as his dick follows, pressing the vibrator deeper into you. "feel that?" he murmurs, his voice low and teasing. you cry out, the vibrations stirring your insides, and the stretch of him making your head feel light and dizzy with a mix of overwhelming pleasure.

"you're mine," he whispers, his breath hot against your neck.

nanami has to restrain himself in your tight cunt, the soft buzzing against his throbbing tip makes him groan. you’re so damn wet and compact around him . . . he could’ve thought you were a virgin.

"i-ugh’fuck!” you manage to gasp, feeling every inch of him and the vibrator inside you. nanami's hands grip your hips tightly, his movements slow and deliberate, trying to savor every moment.

"so tight," he admits, his voice rough with desire. the combination of the buzzing and his steady thrusts sends waves of pleasure through you, making your body tremble.

"please," you beg, not even sure what you're asking for, just needing more of him. he groans, his control slipping as he starts to move faster, driven by the overwhelming sensation and the sound of your desperate pleas.

each thrust driving the vibrator deeper, sending jolts of pleasure through your entire body. "been waitin’ for this," he growls, his voice raw with need.

"nanami," you moan, your voice trembling with pleasure. his dick is so damn thick . . . you’re going crazy, you want to scream. the way his dick gets lost in your big ass has him in a trance; he could stay like this forever.

“fuckkkk,” nanami grunts, one hand holding the cuffs that secure your hands, the other placed on his hip as he rolls his hips into you. each thrust sends shivers down your spine, making you arch your back in response. you can't help but think about how perfectly he fills you, stretching you in ways that drive you wild.

his grip tightens on the cuffs, and you feel the cool metal biting into your wrists, a stark contrast to the heat building between your bodies.

"i can't get enough of you," he mutters, his voice rough with desire. you can hear the raw need in his tone, matching the desperate ache inside you. his movements become more deliberate, each jolt of his hips pushing you closer to the edge, making you lose yourself in the overwhelming sensation of him.

the sick squelching of your pussy around him is vile, but he fucking loves it. your desperate pussy sucks at filthy cock each time he pulls out of you, you’re such a slut. . . mm, he wants to fill you to the brim.

you flinch as nanami’s hand cracks over your skin, earning a mewl from you. “you deserve to be spanked, for throwing this loud ass party, for wearing these skimpy ass clothes,” he growls, his voice low and commanding.

his hand repeatedly cracks across your stinging skin, each hit harder than the last. the sharp sound of each smack echoes in the room, mingling with your soft cries.

“i’m s-sorry n-nanami,” you whimper, trembling as you try to hold back the tears. his hand doesn’t relent, and the sting intensifies with every strike. “p-pllease, i didn’t mean to—”

“no excuses,” he interrupts, his tone brooking no argument. “you need to learn your lesson.” tears brim your eyes, threatening to spill over as you bite your lip to keep from screaming. you can feel the heat radiating from your skin, each slap a reminder of his dominance and your submission. the mix of pain and pleasure sends shivers down your spine, leaving you breathless and yearning for more.

he’s fucking you so fast now, girthy cock massaging your walls deliciously. his fingers are tangled in your hair, pulling your head back as he moves within you so deeply. you’re a sweating, creaming mess, eyes half lidded as he slides into you quickly. you’d just gotten your hair done, but nanami doesn’t care. he’s too focused on pounding into your sensitive cunt. “ i wanna cum on your d-dick,” you plead, a trail of drool adorning your mouth as he fucks up your senses.

you’re so close. .. but, it’s too soon. you ignore the way your stomach is turning. you hate that you’re coming undone so fast, but you can’t help it. this man is skilled. . . ugh, you’re so dizzy for his fat cock.

“mm, hold it. we have to finish together baby.”

“o-omm’ o-okay,” his movements become more urgent, his moans are so pretty. nanami’s head lulls back as you start meeting his thrust, you’ll be the death of him. his stomach is in knots, he’s so damn close. even you can tell the way his cock is twitching against your walls, and the way you’re grinding your hips on him? spectacular.

"come for me," he commands, his voice both a plea and an order. the intensity of his thrusts and the relentless buzzing push you over the edge, and you cry out, your body convulsing with pleasure. nanami groans as you squeeze him, he rolls his hips into you once more before he retracts. mouth agape as curses spill from it, he’s stroking his veiny cock, shooting hot spurts of sticky cum on your ass.

the vibrator still buzzes inside of you, you squirm, pushing it out of your contracting pussy. nanami swears he could nut again as it slips out, coated in your creamy substance. you shudder as you feels his lips on your back,cuffs falling from your wrist as he undoes them. they’re extremely raw and you know you’ll be icing them later,you sink into the bed, you’re so tired.

"please, stay with me until i fall asleep," you whisper,voice barely audible in the quiet room.

he hesitates for a moment, glancing at the clock. he knows he has work in a few hours, but the look in your eyes makes it impossible to say no. "of course," he replies softly, pulling the covers over your body and slipping into the bed beside you.

as you curl up into his side, he feels a warmth spread through him. his hand reaches down to stroke your face gently, his fingers tracing the delicate lines of your features. "you're so beautiful," he murmurs, almost to himself.

a smile pulls against your lips,tired eyes already beginning to close. "thank you, you make me feel special.” you murmur, your voice drowsy.he can't help but smile at your words. he watches as you drift off to sleep, your breathing becoming slow and steady. he knows he should be thinking about the long day ahead, but all he can focus on is the feeling of you in his arms.

as he lies there, holding you close, he can't help but wonder if this is the start of something new. something wonderful. and for the first time in a long while, he feels a sense of hope.

as always likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated! i love interacting:) byeeeee.

[glow-worms-are-believers]

Mistaken Identities (dp x dc)

Danny had been doing his thing, looking around, making sure he didn't alter anything in the past, minding his own business. Officially, this was supposed to be a trip to gather more blood blossom samples for Team Phantom to study, but he had ended up being a little sidetracked. Apparently though, puritan times made for beautiful forests, sue him if he was enjoying a moment of peace in his otherwise crazy life. So here he was, relaxing for the first time in way too long when this guy just barged into the clearing. Danny straightened up with a yelp which had the guy stopping in his tracks before he turned to look at Danny.

"Be not afraid, child. I mean you no harm," the man said.

Danny squinted as he looked up at the half-shadowed face of the man that seemed vaguely familiar.

"Boy?"

"Uh-" Danny managed as he realized he was supposed to answer. "Oh yeah, no problem, man."

The man tilted his head which directed Danny's attention to his weird buckle-hat. Sobering up as he recognized the clothes from his previous jaunt in the past where Sam had almost gotten burnt at the stake, he mentally congratulated himself for turning back into a human before his nap. He really didn't want to end up trapped in blood blossoms by witch-finders again.

"Are you lost?" The man said, as he edged closer. "Do you require aid?"

The halfa jumped to his feet. "Nope!" Danny said before letting out a nervous laugh. "No aid, I'm all good. Thanks though."

The man opened his mouth to say something before another voice, higher pitched stopped him. "You are back!" A woman wearing a simple dress, with a few birds fluttering around her like a Disney princess approached them.

"Annie," answered the man.

"Come," she said before leading him away with only a glance towards the teenager. The man let himself be dragged away, but not before a last few words. "If you are ever in need of assistance, please do not hesitate."

Danny waved his hand. "Yep. For sure, dude. Thanks!"

Then before the man had turned away completely, the woman grabbed his hat playfully which revealed his face completely to the weak moonlight, and coincidentally to Danny's view. The couple disappeared between the thick foliage as Danny sat, struck dumb with what he had just witnessed.

"Oh my god," he whispered to himself. "That was Bruce fucking Wayne."

Danny had seen enough rag magazines and newspapers with his face printed on the cover to recognize the billionaire for sure. What the hell was he doing in Puritan times? Then, it hit Danny like a brick. Natural portals. They weren't common, or stable and they'd been known to spirit away people randomly. Clearly, they also had some pretty severe side-effects including amnesia considering the old-timey speech pattern Mr. Wayne was using.

There was only one thing for it, Danny clearly had to bring Mr. Wayne back to the present. Not only because it was the right thing to do, but also because a missing billionaire was bound to attract a good amount of attention and if anyone connected this to the ghost zone... Well if the GIW was bad now, Danny didn't want to know what other kind of unsavoury people would pop up if ghosts were better-known. Just imagining the Justice League getting involved was giving Danny the shivers. No, the best thing to do was get Mr. Wayne back to his time and hope he wouldn't remember much of what had happened and wouldn't dig into it further.

Just as he was nodding to himself, he heard a scream coming from not too far away. He transformed before flying towards the noise, only to find the woman he'd seen before with Mr. Wayne being captured by a bunch of men wearing the same kinds of hat.

"She's a witch! Burn her!" He heard someone yell. "Hang her dead!" Someone else said.

This was giving Danny some major flashback to Sam's very own witch burning and without wasting a second, he phased the woman right out of their grips and flew them away from the angry mob.

As soon as he landed and let go of the woman, she turned to him and gripped his arm instead. "You have to help him!"

"Help who?" Danny asked, wincing.

"Mordecai!" she said, her grip tight.

"Is that the man who was with you earlier?" the teenager asked.

The woman nodded before pointing southeast. "He is in the caves, fighting the dragon!"

Danny didn't waste anytime before flying in the direction she had pointed to. Going intangible helped with speed, and he phased through the ground, going straight for the aforementioned cave. He just phased through when he caught sight of Mr. Wayne. As he got closer, he could feel some sort of energy radiating from the man. Just then, the energy started building up and Mr. Wayne started to go transparent. Panicking, Danny did the first thing he could think of and absorbed the mounting energy to himself. It felt like a shot of adrenaline except way, way stronger and for a moment everything blanked out, before the world came into focus again. When he looked around, he couldn't find a trace of Mr. Wayne, but from the energy left over he could tell exactly when he had landed. The Golden Age of Piracy.

"Goddamit!" Danny yelled as he once again felt Bruce Wayne slip through his grasp as he stole away the potent energy from the billionaire's body before it could follow wherever he was going next. First it had been pirates, then the Wild West and lastly it was 20th century Gotham, clearly the natural portal had been all kinds of fucked up for Mr. Wayne to have been dragged from time period to time period. It was a miracle he was even still alive, the poor man! Danny let out a harsh sigh as he parsed out through the information the energy had left him with. This time he'd gotten the information for the two next time-jumps, which meant, Danny could get ahead of this for once and finally catch Mr. Wayne before he could jump again.

With a steadying intake of breath, Danny took out the Infiniv-map and set his destination before he let himself follow through. As he got through he could hear a bunch of different voices, all talking over each other.

"-distortions mean what I think it-"

"-not fair!"

"-time is breaking-"

"-only leave his body once he's dead."

Danny paid no mind as he locked eyes on Mr. Wayne who was lying in Wonder Woman's arms, in a black bodysuit, looking worse for the wear. The same energy as before was emanating from him, though this time it was even stronger. Danny approached carefully, invisible before he put a hand onto Mr. Wayne's chest and concentrated on drawing all the energy into himself. It wasn't like the other times, the flow was faster and he was having trouble staying focused as more and more flew into him. His brows scrunched in concentration, and unbeknownst to him, the invisibility dropped.

All the heroes in the room turned to look at the suddenly appearing white-haired teen who had a hand on Batman's chest. As they stared in confusion, the teen started to glow. It grew brighter and brighter before everyone had to shield their eyes as there was a pulse of bright light that died down almost immediately after. Wonder Woman had to blink the spots out of her vision as she felt the weight in her arms start to shift and let out a groan. "Bruce!"

She set him down and helped him put his head between his knees, as she gently stroked his back. Superman settled on his other side while Red Robin just sat in front of him, still half-believing Bruce was really back.

"What happened?" Bruce mumbled. "The omega radiation, I thought-"

"I'd like to know that too," Green Lantern said before he turned towards the glowy kid who was still blinking his eyes as if to chase away afterimages.

"His energy signature is the same as Darkseid," Raven said, her own eyes having not left the teenager since he had appeared.

"You don't mean..." started Superman as all the heroes turned to look at the kid slowly. The latter finally looked up as if sensing he was the focus of many eyes and cringed as he met the combined stares of the Justice League.

"Yes," Raven answered. "This is Darkseid's son."

[wardenparker]

Mysterious Masquerade, part 1

Oberyn Martell x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: M for Mature but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 15.5k Warnings: Food/alcohol, cursing, flirting and sexy themes. Discussions of financial situations and economic hardship that might make some readers uncomfortable, but I promise it all ends well. Summary: There is no way that you or your best friend could have known that crashing the big Martell family Halloween masquerade would change your lives forever. Notes: Sugar Daddy Oberyn was just calling my name, what can I say?

It's opulence at its best. Silken black and purple fabrics drape the walls and reflect the shimmers back from the ornate wall sconces that light the ballroom. Women and men, scantily clad and their faces are covered black lace demi masks carry trays of succulent hors d'oeuvres and crisp, bubbly champagne. The contortionist twins breathing fire from a raised platform is in the middle of the ballroom, surrounded by dancing couples. The revelers are high spirited, dressed to impress despite their faces being covered, anonymity and the freedom to be whomever they wish tonight. The Martell Annual Halloween Masquerade is an undeniable success and the evening is still young.

“I can’t believe we actually got in!” You hiss, clutching your best friend’s hand as the two of you pass through the lavish ballroom. This mansion must be as old as the fabled Martell family itself, though no one quite knows how old that really is. The history has been mired in so much fable that they’re just part of the fabric of the city at this point.

When she had come to you with extravagant costumes and flimsy masks with this plan of crashing the annual Halloween party that was so legendary that the musicians were famous headliners and the food was prepared by celebrity chefs? You had balked. You had insisted that staying home and watching a slasher marathon with snacks and boozy autumnal cocktails was enough.

But she was totally right to think she could pull this off, apparently.

Oberyn watches from the balcony above, satisfied as he watches couple dance and drink. His own glass of champagne in his hand and he takes a sip. "Lover." He smiles, turning to find the dark, kohl lined eyes of his paramour watching him from behind the edges of her elaborate mask. He hated the masks himself, but it was part tradition, part relief. If he was not discovered, he could shrug off the trappings of his name and reputation for the night. Every other day he enjoys his title of the Red Viper, but for some reason tonight it doesn't seem appropriate. He hums, slowly taking in the beautiful view of her costume, the slinky fabric enhancing her lithe form. "Ellaria." He coos. "You look stunning."

“I should hope so.” She agrees, the sultry swing of her hips enhancing the movement of the shimmering dress. She’s dressed as Cleopatra, but without a single thought to any kind of accuracy. “I am stitched into the thing, thread by thread. Whomever I take to bed tonight had better have a seam ripper.”

He chuckles. “I’m surprised you haven’t already picked them out.” He teases. “There are so many choices.”

"Everyone I have danced with so far has been boring," she frowns dramatically. "But it is early." Ellaria enjoys the process of choosing less than Oberyn does. Once she finds someone that captures her attention, she likes to then explore that one, single option. Oberyn vastly prefers the game of cat and mouse with his temporary lovers.

"I am sure someone will catch your pretty eyes." He reaches up and pinches her chin playfully. "The party is a success." He hums, looking back around the room and spying a new set of attendees arriving.

“It always is.” She never doubts his ability to make sure those around him enjoy themselves, but Ellaria leans in to kiss him and lovingly tugs at the waist of his costume to nudge him along. “Go and mingle, lover. Bask in your guests’ enjoyment. Find a girl or boy to take upstairs.” She winks, and plants one last kiss on his lips. “Or both.”

He smirks and knows that he will find someone. He always does. "Have fun." He winks at her and pushes away from the balcony, interested to see the new arrivals. Even though they are masked, he doesn't believe he knows them.

“This champagne probably cost more than my entire outfit,” you murmur, sipping the glass as the two of you wade through the crowd. There is food everywhere and a huge band on stage, and a rumor that some big international singer would be here tonight. If you listened to the radio more you would probably have recognized the name.

Oberyn moves through the crowd, his eyes on the pair of ladies as they sip champagne and gawk at the surroundings. Obviously not used to the parties that are thrown here. It amuses him, all the security he has and he has been the one to find a pair of party crashers.

“This is the fanciest party I’ve ever seen.” Your friend breathes, eyes wide as she beholds the absolute pinnacle of luxury: an entire table full of multiple levels of charcuterie. “If I die tonight, make sure we have one of these at my funeral.”

“Same.” You swear solemnly, squeezing her head before you bust out in giggles.

"It is better to eat it than stare at it." Oberyn leans over one lady's shoulder and murmurs his comment. "Although it is almost as delectable as you two this evening."

Your flapper dresses jingle and swing when you both startle, turning inwardly to face the man who has come up between you. Dressed in a gleaming white and gold Roman soldier costume, he looks absolutely resplendent. It’s all you can do to swallow instead of stare, but your best friend answers. “Sometimes you just have to appreciate a thing of beauty.”

"I appreciate beauty in all forms," Oberyn agrees, taking your hand and clasping in his, "and yet I find myself captivated." You are beautiful, even with half of your face covered and he knows he has never met you before.

"You have excellent taste." Your friend blows you a kiss and sashays away, leaving you breathless and frozen with your hand held in this handsome new acquaintance's. You'll kick her ass for abandoning you later, right now you're trying to remember how to do anything but stare. He's handsome and broad, with sharp angles to his jaw and thick biceps shown off nicely by the tunic he's wearing.

"I have always believe that to be true." He has no problems with his own sense of self-esteem, men and women fall at his feet when they meet him. This however, is a challenge because it is obvious that you do not recognize him.

"Always?" His voice sounds vaguely familiar but you can't place it -- then again, why would you recognize the voice of anyone here? It isn't as though you run in the kind of circles that would have gotten you invited to this party. You did have to crash, after all. "Then you must have some very interesting choices to make."

He hums and turns you towards the table. "Life is full of choices." He muses. "It is all in what whets your appetite at the time." He pics up a prosciutto wrapped melon slice. Holding it up to your lips as an offering.

Is this how rich people flirt? The thought flits across your mind just only a millisecond before you open your mouth, accepting the bite out of curiosity as much as obedience. Feeding people can be a love language. It certainly is for your family, so you're no stranger to being offered things to try. "Sometimes you have to try more than one thing to find precisely where your tastes lie," you reply politely, when the cured ham is delicious but the melon not quite to your taste.

He chuckles, guaging that it wasn't your favorite and he decides that something sweeter is more in line with your tastes. "Absolutely" He agrees, picking up a chocolate ganache and cream puff pastry and offers it to you. "Tasting everything you can is one of the few true pleasures in life."

"Something tells me you've sampled everything you possibly can." It isn't a judgement, but this time when you open your mouth you feel just a touch more playful about it. Is it a little weird? Sure. But between this guy's physique and his accent, you don't need to see his whole face to know he's easily the hottest guy you've ever flirted with.

The cream puff is creamy and sweet but the dark chocolate is just a touch bitter, which is nice but still not quite hitting the mark for you. "What is your favorite thing here? Don't try to guess mine."

That is easy for him. Picking up a fig and rosemary cracker, he selects a slice of creamy bree and tops it with a plump blackberry before picking up the little honey comb wand from a small pot of honey to drizzle over the top of it all. When the bite is assembled, he turns to hand it to you. "Take a sip of your champagne after the bite." He instructs.

This is more like it. The bite is towering, imposing, and mouthwatering, and when requires commitment rather than a dainty or demure nibble. You go in without hesitation, moaning happily as each individual flavor bursts on your tongue and then melds together into something brilliantly harmonious. The champagne finish is like a crescendo -- the last unexpected peak of the roller coaster ride that you weren't quite expecting. By the time you finish it, you're giggling. "That's amazing," you commend, dabbing a touch of loose honey away from the corner of your mouth.

"It is." He smiles, enjoying your enjoyment of the bite he had made. He takes a sip of his own glass and hums. "Fresh and sweet, with a hint of savory."

"Complex." You commend, wondering if that is also his taste in partners. "Depth is important."

"What would be your choice?" He asks, curious to see what you view as the perfect bite.

A self-proclaim charcuterie enthusiast, you apply yourself to the table with aplomb, and compose a bite using a crusty round of puff pastry, a triangle of sharp and salty gruyere, sweet unctuous apricot jam, and a shard of crispy serrano pepper to top it all off. This is offered to him with absolute confidence, knowing that you have converted a hell of a lot of your friends to understanding the value in good ingredients with this very bite. "Try this."

He tilts his head at the offering, but he takes it with a small smirk. "I have to admit, I am charmingly surprised by the pepper." He says before he pops the bite into his mouth and chews cautiously, tasting the flavors as they burst on his tongue.

"Heat is an underrated aspect of many different things in life," you assert, watching his eyes flutter shut to enjoy the full experience. That's enough to let you know you've convinced him.

“Heat is just another word for passion.” He agrees after swallowing. “It is good that I enjoy it.”

"I had a feeling you might." He gives off that aura, anyway. Even if this is just a character he's put on for tonight, he's wearing it very well.

Oberyn asks your name. “I don’t believe I have seen you around before.” He coos. “I would have remembered a woman as passionate as you.”

"Daisy," you tell him, pulling the first flapper name you can possibly think of out of your mind, grateful you can remember the name of the love interest in The Great Gatsby off the top of your head.

He knows immediately that it is not your real name, but he appreciates the game you are starting. “Marcus Acacius.” He introduces himself, bowing slightly. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Daisy.”

“Ought I to call you ‘General’?” Appreciative that he is willing to play the game, you offer him a curtsy in turn.

“Only in bed.” He chuckles.

"Noted," you agree, laughing along with him.

Your glass is nearly empty, so the next time a man wearing nothing more than a g-string and a mask walks around with a tray of glasses, he snags a fresh one for you. His eyes watching the man’s ass as he walks off before smirking at you. “The servers are all…stimulating, are they not?”

"They are a beautiful part of the decor." It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that he likes the view, so you aren't going to point out that it's more than a little exhibitionist. For you, putting someone so utterly on display is hit or miss. But you've convinced yourself that they're all okay with it to make yourself more comfortable.

“Do you not like them?” He tilts his head, curiously by the slight pause in your answer. It’s no secret that his parties - while infamous - have never been photographed. People speculate and those invited never tell.

"Oh, it's not that I don't appreciate the beauty of a bare body," you rush to explain. Have you hit a nerve? Did he help design the party or something? "I guess I just...enjoy the reveal. Taking a lover to bed and getting to see their body bared for me bit by bit? It's the appetizer to the feast that will last all night."

“I see.” He can appreciate your honesty. “And you like to feast? Choosing a lover and hoping they do not disappoint you?” He smirks. “You would not like to have line of naked men line up, cocks hard while you choose which one you wish to ride?”

Alright, so it's not like you've never watched that kind of porn, but you take a sip from your fresh glass of champagne and shrug. "I can't say that I've ever had the chance. So I don't know."

“I am sure you would just need to ask.” He turns back to the table to pick up a few grapes. “A gorgeous woman like you would have her pick. Unless you prefer the touch of a woman?”

"You seem to be very talented at asking questions specifically on things I've never tried," you admit. In an uncharacteristically bold move, you take the grape directly from his fingers when he offers it. The offers at the charcuterie table seem to have given you a bit of extra confidence. "But what about you? Do you enjoy every offer you get? That would be both unusual and commendable."

“There have been some offers that I have declined.” Oberyn admits easily. “But I think that is normal for everyone, no?”

“I think so.” You both sip your drinks, letting the moment settle around you, and give your attention to the stage when the music changes. A new singer has been introduced and the crowd is clapping wildly around you.

Oberyn watches as the famous performer walks up onto the stage. Her appearance here was a personal favor to him, although he had insisted on paying her. He would never have it said that he took advantage. “Have you watched her perform live before?” He asks, watching you frown in confusion as you try to figure out who she is.

“I…don’t get out much,” you admit, by way of saying ‘no’. Work-life balance has long been negated by the sheer desire to keep a roof over your head and food in the refrigerator, so you haven’t been to a live anything in years.

He hums and gestures towards the stage. “Then you should enjoy this.” He takes a sip of his champagne and sets it down. “Shall we get closer?”

His formality doesn’t make him any less of an intriguing or welcoming presence, and when he sets his glass down and offers you his arm, you can’t resist. It might be the first time ever that a man has offered you his arm like a gentleman.

Oberyn knows the best place to watch and he guides you towards it. “So Daisy, have you attended many of the Red Viper’s parties?” He asks. “Or is this your first time?”

“Oh, this is definitely a first.” The place he brings you to is to the side of the stage directly at the front, and the singer is both obviously talented and obviously committed to putting on a show. While a lot of people are still dancing, at least half the party has stopped to watch. “You?”

“Practically every one.” He replies without irony. It’s actually more of a challenge of you don’t recognize him.

“I can’t imagine missing this if you could help it.” The opulence and beauty of what you’ve seen so far are beautiful. If you could, you would certainly be here all the damn time.

Another tray of champagne is brought around and Oberyn looks over at your half-drunk glass. “Do you want another, or are you content for the moment?”

“I’m okay right now.” The last thing you want to do is drink too much and get sloppy or embarrass yourself. The risk of getting discovered as a party crasher is high enough as it is. “But don’t let be stop you.”

“I actually prefer to drink wine over champagne.” He admits, motioning the server over. “Please bring a bottle of the Dornish red and two glasses.” He instructs.

The waiter obeys him instantly and you watch with barely disguised surprise. The authority in his voice just is that commanding, and your mind flits momentarily back to the half-joke that he should only be called general in bed.

“You must try it.” He insists. “Even if you don’t have much. The Dornish red is perhaps the best vintage of wine you will ever have.”

“It’s always on everyone’s lists of best wine in the world.” The lists you read while you buy your cheap yet delicious bottle of Chilean red. “I’ve…I admit, I’ve always wanted to try it.”

“Then you are in for a treat.” He murmurs. “You know the Martell estate produces the wine, no?” He loves to talk about his family, but he’s careful to frame it has interesting facts. “It’s been made here for over four hundred years.”

"It's supposed to be wonderful." You do know that much, even if you've never had the opportunity to try it. "Do you..." About to ask him if he works on the vineyard judging from the pride in his voice, you decide to pivot. Not knowing is more fun. "Do you find it a favorite?"

“It is.” He doesn’t tell you that he’s been drinking this wine since he was a child, knowing that would make things too obvious. The intrigue about you is tickling his curiosity. “What is yours?”

"It's low brow compared to Dornish red." Where most people are truly giving their undivided attention to the singer, you've continued your conversation. The idea that he finds you just as interesting as a pop star is flattering to say the least. "There is a Chilean label called Casillero del Diablo that I love." Feeling self conscious, you shrug your shoulders and laugh. "It tastes fancy without breaking the bank. That's good enough for me."

“Casillero is a good wine.” He nods, finding it amusing that you would be self conscious because what a wine costs. “I have had many a bottle myself. It is especially good with an exceptional paella.”

"I'll have to give that a try." Not that you've ever tried to make paella in your entire life, but Casillero has made your meat sauce taste the best it's ever been.

The server that was sent for the Roman General's bottle has returned, and approaches the two of you through a crowd with his gleaming tray carrying a bottle with two glasses. He offers your companion a flirtatious smile and you a wink, making you wonder if everyone at this party is just here to flirt with everyone else.

“Good man.” Oberyn praises, approving of the bottle already being opened and allowed to breathe. Scooping up one of the glasses, Oberyn pours a small taster of it, giving it the requisite sniff and small taste before he pours a larger quantity in the glass and offers it to you. “Unless you would prefer to not drink after me?” He asks.

"I don't mind." It feels bold and a little sexy. Flirtatious, just like everyone else at the party. "You say it's your favorite? Then I'm sure it will be sinful."

His eyes light up, enjoying how forward you are with a coy smile. “It is delicious.” He agrees as he pours himself a glass.

The first sip bursts on your tongue with deep cherry and juicy plum tones wrapped in the smoky tones of the aging barrel. Something subtle untied it that you can’t quite place and you hum happily as the first beautiful taste warms your throat. “It’s incredible.”

“Hmmmm.” He takes his own sip. “It’s like tasting a beautiful woman for the first time.”

That is just a touch more bold than you ever would have even thought to be, and your eyes widen as you take your second sip. It takes all the effort in the world not to do a spit take out of sheer surprise, but you have a feeling that that was somehow the point of the comment.

He smirks when he sees your eyes widen behind the mask and he wants to ask your opinion on that, but he doesn’t. Instead he just watches you with a growing hunger, aware that despite Ellaria normally picking her lover first, he had found who he wishes to take to bed.

Aside from being delicious, the wine is fairly strong, and you slowly sip your glass while the singer performs on stage. She's wonderful, of course, and after a few songs you have never heard before there is finally one you recognize your best friend playing – which makes your eyes scan the crowd wondering if you can find her. Wherever she is in the room, she must be geeking out.

******

“You are so sweet.” Ellaria coos, stroking her finger down the young woman’s face. “Would you like to meet her after she is done singing?”

Lizzy's eyes widen the same way yours did over the comment from Oberyn about the wine, though neither of you know the irony in your reactions being identical and at nearly the same time. "You could—could do that?" She asks, wondering who this woman is who had swept her up in a dance only a few moments ago.

“Of course I could.” She smirks and winks at her playfully. “She is a close friend of mine.” She admits and reaches for another glass of champagne to drink.

"Who are you?" Lizzy breathes in wonder, staring at the gorgeous woman who came into her orbit like a whirlwind and continues to swirl and shine.

Her laughter is soft, yet powerful. A woman who is truly comfortable in her own skin and the power she wields. “Tonight, call me your fairy godmother, darling.” She teases, leaning in and kissing her lips softly. “Watch the performance. I am sure Trinity would love to hear feedback.”

"What feedback could I possibly give?" The absolute wonder on her face is enough, and both women are grinning for entirely separate reasons as they turn back to the stage.

******

“You seem like you are looking for someone?” He would be terribly disappointed if you were meeting someone here. Although he’s not opposed to threesomes.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude." You also didn't mean to be obvious about looking, but you've clearly failed in that. "My best friend. We came together and got separated, that's all. I'm sure she's fine."

“It is no problem.” He assures you, relaxing slightly. A friend. “Would you like to find her? Or……” he shrugs slightly, leaving it up to your interpretation.

"I'm sure she's fine," you repeat, mostly to reassure yourself. Lizzy is far better in unknown social situations than you are. After all, she's the one who talked you past the security guards. Taking another sweep of the crowd, you finally look up and spot her glossy red hair and striking black flapper dress in the balcony. Against the railing. Balustrade? Whatever you call it when it's in the ballroom of a house. "Oh," you breathe, relieved. "There she is. I just...didn't want her to miss this. She loves this singer."

Oberyn follows your gaze and smirks when he sees a very familiar figure next to her. “It seems as if she has found some company for the performance.”

"I'm not surprised." Or even taken a little bit aback by how fast it happened. Lizzy's always been lucky in love, no matter what the level. "Sorry again," you murmur to your own companion. "I just...we take care of each other. That's all."

“Do not apologize for looking after your friend.” He shakes his head gently. “That is admirable.”

That softens your expression in an entirely different way, and you lean slightly into your handsome companion's side. "I just didn't want you to think I wasn't interested, that's all."

“I can tell you are interested.” He tilts his head. “It is just a matter of you acting on it, I think.”

Your cheeks are on fire immediately, eyes glancing away out of sheer embarrassment. Is it really that obvious? And are you really that obvious? You ought to feel ashamed but all you can feel it the heat in your veins. "I'm...not terribly good at figuring out if that sort of thing is welcome. Which is why I hardly ever do."

“I can assure that that any move you make would be met with enthusiasm.” He chuckles softly, taking another sip of his wine. “All you have to do is ask to see the room I am staying in tonight.”

"I—" Your head tilts out of sheer surprise. "Really?"

“Why are you looking so surprised?” Oberyn sets his wine down and he light brushes his hand over your ass, hovering right over it before sliding up to your hip. “You are gorgeous and have captured my interest.” He smirks. “Party crashers do that.”

"How could you possibly—?" Your confusion only deepens, though now your side is flooded from heat with his hand.

“Know that you didn’t receive an invitation?” He winks at you from under his mask. “Some secrets are best kept just that, Daisy.” He coos. “Do you want to finish the concert, or shall I give you a private tour of the west wing of the house?”

The possibility that this man is the legendary Oberyn Martell never even crosses your mind. That would be too unbelievable. But surely he works for him. Or is a family member. Or is somehow connected to the man who owns this mansion, multiple Martell family businesses, and half the city to boot. Whoever he is? He's handsome, smells sinfully good, and is looking at you like he's going to devour you. So you straighten out your spine and decide to give yourself a fantastic story out of tonight. "How about we top off our glasses and go for a tour?"

“Atta girl.” He chuckles. “You have spirit and that is something that I will enjoy when I hear you scream again and again in pleasure.” He picks up the wine bottle and drains it between your glass and his.

"Is that a promise or a threat" You joke, suddenly wishing you were wearing a far flashier and more alluring costume.

“Both.” He chuckles darkly and leans into whisper in your ear. “I can guarantee a night you will never forget.”

"Well damn." Hiding your thudding, thundering heart behind a coy smile, you can't hide the shiver that runs down your spine. "What are we waiting for?"

He smirks victoriously and turns to offer you his arm. “Nothing, my little dove.” He promises. “We are waiting for nothing.”

The gold bracelets on his wrists are cool on the tips of your fingers as you wrap one hand around his arm, wondering what the hell you could possibly be thinking and also how fucking sexy he is. It's truly unfair. Or it would be. If you weren't the one on his arm right now. He leads you away from the stage and to the outer rim of the room, surveying things as he goes but always bringing his eyes back to you. It really gives you the impression of a prince surveying his kingdom, and purely in a way that makes you squeeze your thighs together.

******

The morning light starts to peek on from the edge of the heavy velvet curtains. Making Oberyn grunt and roll over out of the spearing ray that lands on his cheek. The night had been spent in darkness, keeping the thrill of the game alive despite your bodies being stripped to the skin. Now his eyes open, landing on your face for the first time without the mask you had been wearing.

It might be the best night's sleep you've ever had. Certainly the most comfortable bed you've ever slept in, and the most luxurious sheets you've ever had wrapped around you. When he allowed for it anyway. Your general is a giving and pampering lover but also a human blanket. He had kept you tight in his arms for most of the night until eventually turning away sometime in the middle of your deep and uplifting dreams.

You are still sleeping, making him smirk as he shifts closer. Last night had been intoxicating and fun. You had been enthusiastic and vocal, willing to let him do anything he wanted to you under the cover of darkness. Now, he wants to see what you look like in the light.

The warmth and weight of him is what drags you from your dreams, making the gardens of your unconscious world drift away as you float back down into your body, only to hum from somewhere deep in your chest as you register the low rumble of him beside you.

“You are waking up, Princess?” He asks softly, curling up against you again.

“Mm.” You turn instinctively, burying yourself in the warmth of someone who is clearly just waking up as well. This isn’t one of those one-night-stands where you jump out of bed and run away afterward. This is slow and luxurious. “Morning,” you murmur, cracking your eyes open.

“Morning.” His fingers slide down the curve of your spine and he palms your ass to pull you closer for that first morning kiss that he always enjoys.

The hunger from last night is still there, though the immediacy has ebbed a little. As though he is aware this morning as having all the time in the world. You sweep your tongue through his mouth just as eagerly as he does yours, savoring the lingering intimacy. “Sleep well?”

“Like a baby.” He chuckles, finding himself relaxed despite knowing that the party had continued on into the early hours of the morning. Stragglers would still be sleeping where they had passed out or adjourned to find privacy. The clean up from the night’s activities would not begin until well into the afternoon. Brunch would not even be served to those that had remained until after the noon hour had passed.

“Me too.” Without any idea what time of morning it is, all you know of the sun is high and the crisp autumn breeze coming through the windows is perfect, all of it giving him an almost ethereal presence as he leans over you in that enormous bed of his.

Without a mask you can see his golden skin more clearly, maybe a few more laugh lines than you expected but he wears them very handsomely. His extra years give him experience and speak to his love of life. Without his mask you can also see the prominent arch of his nose and the peaks of his cheekbones, all of which you instinctively wish you could trace in kisses but you don’t know if that’s allowed this morning.

“Are you too sore for another round?” He asks, arching a brow playfully. You haven’t looked surprised to find out who he is, so perhaps you had figured it out during the night. He had brought you back to his personal bedroom, but the lights had stayed off.

“Not at all.” His stamina was commendable last night so you’re not surprised to find him eager for another encounter this morning. Something tickles at the back of your mind, like he looks too familiar but you brush it off. Maybe you’ve been in the same restaurant or movie theater before? Who knows.

He hums and lowers his mouth to your neck, pressing his lips and nipping your skin playfully. “You tasted so delicious last night, I am craving another taste.”

“Miraculously, I do not have work today.” Your hands find the strong, defined muscles of his back easily, holding him to you with enthusiasm. “So I can indulge as much as you like.”

“Good.” He smirks and hovers over you again. “Then I will take my time.”

** He keeps his promises. At least when it comes to intimacy. When it comes to how many times he can make you scream for him and coaxing you into yet another tantric position you’ve never heard of but unlocks something primal and needy in you. He keeps his promises and you keep yours, leaving each other exhausted and panting as you collapse in each other’s arms all over again.

There is no wine nearby, so he reluctantly pulls away from you, climbing out of the bed and walking over to the mini fridge that is underneath the bar in the corner. Pulling out two bottles of water he turns back towards you. “Do you want to join the brunch crowd in a little bit?”

"Eating something is probably a good idea," you admit, accepting the water from him gratefully. "We've had a hell of a workout over the last...twelve hours? I have no idea what time it is."

Oberyn chuckles and twists the cap off his own drink. “It’s nearly noon.” He admits, having glanced at his phone briefly.

"Is it?" Neither embarrassed or upset about spending so much time closed up in this bedroom with him, you finally take time to look around the room in the clear light of midday. "This is...a hell of a room," you commend, taking in all the details of the space. The sumptuous fabrics and detail in the carved woods. The elaborate stained glass window tiles scattering various colors across the floor that had not been anywhere as brilliant in the moonlight. "If this is a guest room I can't even imagine what the master bedroom looks like."

He pauses when you say that, pulling his bottle down from his lips as you look around. You aren’t looking at him and he is highly amused. You’ve obviously not recognized him, slightly stinging his ego, but it makes the previous evening and this morning even more refreshing. “I am sure it would splendid.” He agrees. “If it were a guest room.”

"If it—" Opening your mouth once or twice or three times in confusion, you take another drink of water and sit up in his bed. "You're family?" The possibility had never even crossed your mind, although now you feel a little stupid for not realizing.

“Martell is my last name.” He admits with a nonchalant shrug, as if it is inconsequential to the subject at hand.

"I had no idea." Feeling all the more embarrassed, you practically sink back against the headboard. "I mean....I don't know if it's one of those local pride things like...like I ought to know. But in my defense, I only moved to this city last year."

He watches your face fall and frowns, moving towards the bed to sit down. “No, no, my sweet little dove, you are not going to be upset.” He commands, as if he could change your emotions just by wishing it. “I enjoy the discovery that you don’t know who I am.” He assures you, reaching out and touching your knee. “It means you wanted to sleep with me for a reason other than my name.”

"I told you..." Reaching for him is as easy as breathing, even if you are a little more intimidated to do it now. "I was drawn to you."

“And I was drawn to you.” He smirks, sending you a playful wink.

"Then I suppose it...doesn't matter?" It would make you pretty embarrassed to invite him over to your studio apartment, but you don't anticipate this going past today anyway.

“What do you mean?” He tilts his head curiously.

"Nothing. Never mind." Slipping from the sheets, your only option is too hunt the floor for your dress and slip back into the same clothes you were wearing last night. "I should text my friend. Let her know I won't be home until after brunch." And see if Lizzy had texted you about staying out, too. She usually has more luck anyway.

He frowns at your back as you hunt up your clothes. “Let me get you something else to wear.” He offers, unashamed at his own nudity, but he senses that you might want to wear something.

If all the men in this family are like the famous Oberyn Martell, there is probably a storage closet somewhere with spare clothes for conquests to wear the morning after. Not that you care how many other people a partner has slept with – that's none of your business and doesn't really matter. You were safe last night and this morning, so a number is just a number. "I don't want to be a nuisance," you say instead, because it's the truth.

“It is no nuisance.” He insists, standing up and walking towards the door that his closet is behind. “I have some beautiful things from you to choose from.” He motions you over.

"I'll get them back to you," you promise him, before you even get over to the closet. Assuming they don't belong to some other woman, they still belong to him. And that's basic respect.

“Consider it a gift.” He waves away your concern and finds it sweet that you would want to return something like that to him. “My eldest has a flare for designing clothes.” He admits as he turns on the light to the closet. “These are some of her mock ups, not released to the public.”

"Your daughter made these?" The closet is bursting with colorful, inventive fashions that make your eye jump around from piece to piece with growing awe.

“Yes.” He smiles proudly as he looks around the smaller room. It is lined with designs that she has worked on, and even if she had not liked them, he loved them because she made them. “Her line has taken off, there is a show coming up next month.”

"And you're willing to just...give me her designs?" You turn to him with wide eyes.

He smiles and reaches out to pinch your chin gently. “You are exquisite. You will wear it well and everyone will ask you where you got it.” He predicts.

"Then you have to tell me what her fashion line is called, so I can tell everyone who asks." He lets you select a combination of skirt, blouse, and sweater that are comfortable and extremely attractive and you know you'll wear as much as humanly possible.

“Dornish Sun by Obara Sand.” Oberyn murmurs, watching you run your fingers through the silks that she had stitched.

"Is it cliche if I say that you don't look old enough to have a grown daughter?" There is no reason to be shy about dressing in front of him since he was the one who undressed you last night.

“I started very young.” He chuckles.

"It seems so." The silk handkerchief skirt settles on your waist easily and the camisole is soft on your skin, making you feel utterly luxuriated with just simple clothing. "Well, I...thank you. And thank you to your daughter as well. She's extremely gifted."

“Of course.” He smiles. “Yellow is your color.” He compliments. “You should wear it often.”

"I will." That is a promise you can make him easily. The warmth has returned to everything you're feeling, pushing awkwardness out the window, and you're pull on the soft cardigan that compliments the clothing when you hear your phone go off somewhere in the vast bedroom. "That's probably Lizzy," you tell him, moving back toward his room. "Did you...you mentioned brunch?"

“I am sure that she will be there if she stayed.” He knows she will, Ellaria will have her there. “You should assure her you are safe.”

Your purse, phone inside, had somehow ended up falling off of a side table last night and is sitting on the beautifully waxed wooden floor when you go to retrieve it. If you look a bit like a bumblebee with your yellow and black and floral outfit today, at least the black heels and black clutch you brought last night will complement it.

There are no less than a half dozen messages on your phone, but the one from this morning is, indeed, from Lizzy.

From Lizzy: You disappeared so early last night! Who did you end up going home with??

You grin typing out your reply, and try not to sound too smug in your reply.

To Lizzy: I'm still in the mansion, actually. Got invited to brunch and won't even have to do a walk of shame. Meet up afterward?

From Lizzy: The brunch!!!! I’m going to be there too. I will see you there!

While you are answering your phone, Oberyn dresses in a pair of deceptively casual linen pants and a burnt orange shirt, shoving his feet into a pair of stylish loafers and choosing the watch Ellaria had gifted him on his last birthday.

"She says she'll be at brunch, too." Looking up from your phone, a smile tugs at the corners of your mouth when you see how effortlessly handsome and stylish he looks in his beautifully tailored clothing.

“I assumed she would.” He smirks. “Ellaria loves to pamper her lovers after a night in her bed.”

"Ellaria...?" Letting the wheels of your mind spin at will, it takes only seconds to connect the final dots and your eyes widen all over again. "You're Oberyn Martell?"

He tilts his head in acknowledgement and smirks. “I am.” He admits, walking over and picking up his water bottle again. “But I’m more interested in learning your real name.”

You practically stammer it out, but you do tell him. It had been wrong to assume that it could not be him, apparently, despite his legendary attachment to his partner Ellaria Sand.

“Beautiful.” He smiles, thinking that your name fits you. “Now, are you a woman who brushes her teeth before brunch or after?” He asks curiously.

"After." You laugh, although the question is practical. "I can't have anything messing with the flavor of my coffee."

He chuckles and agrees. “Especially when you are following it up with a mimosa.” He jokes.

“Exactly.” You agree, accepting his arm when he offers it. “The only thing worse that toothpaste and coffee is toothpaste and orange juice.”

A horrid combination.” He curls his lip in disgust. “Come, the brunch will be starting soon.”

By the light of day, the mansion is both enormous and even more splendid than it seemed last night. Details were lost in the lights of the party that you can see very clearly now as he walks you through the halls, though you do your best not to gape. Down immense hallways and the grandest set of stairs you have ever seen before – Surely these aren't the stairs he took you up last night? You would remember. – he escorts you to an enormous dining room with ceilings higher than most churches you've been in.

The staff, the regular staff, is all dressed respectably in black trousers, a sun yellow shirt and a black vest over that. The Martell family symbol of a spear and a bursting sun is emblazoned on the left breast of the vest, with a discreet name tag on the right.

There are stations for hot food and sideboards full of cold choices all laid out everywhere, and plenty of party guests milling about in last night's costumes or this morning's borrowed clothes. Soft music plays from somewhere overhead and a few staff members move between tables pouring tea, delivering mimosas, and occasionally delivering a different drink altogether. One table in the corner is a little grander than the rest, but it pulls your eye for an entirely different reason. Sitting, sipping a Bloody Mary in contentment, is Lizzy.

“Ahhhh, there they are.” Oberyn hums, his smile widening when he sees the beautiful face of his paramour and guides you over to the table. “You look well rested this morning, my love.”

"An illusion, I assure you." Ellaria smirks, rising from her place at the table with a cup of well-doctored coffee in front of her. "Since my dear new friend ensured I got very little sleep at all last night." She moves to Oberyn's side with ease to kiss him. "I trust you did the same for her friend?"

He pulls her in for a kiss, just as passionate as the one he had given you before entering the dining room where brunch was being served. Smiling when she moans slightly and pulls away. “Of course I did.”

“Good.” She commends, the easy praise pouring from her lips. “I knew you would not let any leave your bed unsatisfied.”

“Of course not.” He purrs. “She looks ravishing, as does your playmate for the evening. Have you decided to invite her back?”

“Thursday.” Ellaria’s smile is pure satisfaction on her own part. “A pity, though. She has no interest in cock. Though I don’t suppose she would mind you watching if you like.”

“No,” he shakes his head. “I will leave you two to your games. I can amuse myself, as you well know.”

“With your new playmate?” His paramour asks slyly, glancing over at where you and Lizzy are chatting excitedly at the table.

“I find myself enchanted by her:” Oberyn admits, never shy about sharing his feelings with Ellaria. Despite their openness, they have also been together for nearly fifteen years.

“Then I am very glad she stayed.” Though Oberyn enjoys his encounters, it is rare for him to be enchanted by just anyone. It is a high commendation from a man who can have anyone he chooses.

“I am too.” He watches you and your friend with Ellaria. “I am thinking of asking her for an arrangement.” He poses.

“Oh?” She is surprised at that but not unhappy. When Oberyn finds someone worthy of an arrangement it is always something that brings him joy, and Ellaria is never opposed to Oberyn’s joy.

“What do you think?” He turns to look at his lover, seeing that she is surprised, but not necessarily opposed to the idea.

“I think she is lovely and you are enchanted.” Snuggled into his side, Ellaria presses a kiss to Oberyn’s jaw and smiles. “And she looks very fine in Obara’s clothes.”

“She was in complete awe of the closet.” He muses. “She is not seeking social status, that is for certain.”

“No?” That alone is enough to pique Ellaria’s interest. After all, his status is high enough to elevate anyone simply by proximity. “How do you know?”

“She did not know who I was” Oberyn admits with an amused chuckle. “And it was no act. She was embarrassed by the fact she did not recognize me.”

“Well, well.” Ellaria chuckles, tutting in amusement. “That does make things more interesting. Her friend did recognize me, but not everyone is as mysterious as your new lover.”

He hums and pulls her close to steal another kiss. “Perhaps you will take her out to lunch?” He asks. “Tomorrow?”

“If you wish it.” Ellaria hums, glances back at you and Lizzy, and ends up smiling. “Do you wish me to sweeten her to the idea of your arrangement, or will you propose it today?”

“Sweeten her up a bit.” He winks at you when you glance over. “Beyond that, I want to know your opinion before I offer her more.”

“I will give you an honest review,” she promises, kissing him once more before straying off toward the buffet.

Oberyn watches her walk away for a moment before he turns back towards the table and smirks. Walking slowly towards you as you giggle with your friend.

“Lizzy was just saying the same thing I did when we came downstairs,” you tell him, though the honest truth is that she said it much earlier in the conversation and just now you had been gossiping about why and how you’re both so tired. “The house is even more beautiful in the sunlight.”

“I am glad you are enjoying yourself here.” Oberyn smirks and nods towards Lizzy. “I am sure that Ellaria would love to give you a private tour, if she hasn’t already.” He chuckles. “She loves to fuck in the library. Hates to read, but loves to fuck there.”

“Yes, I…um…” Lizzy clears her throat and offers him a tight, slightly nervous smile. “I have been in the library. Haven’t really seen or paid attention to much of it, but I’ve been in it.”

He hums in approval and nods. “She did say that you both enjoyed yourselves immensely.” He pulls out a chair beside you and sits down. “Have you decided if you want anything from the buffet, or something else?” He asks both of you.

“There are more than enough choices on the buffet,” you assure him. “And it all looks wonderful.”

“We were just waiting until you got here.” Lizzy admits easily. “Ellaria said brunch would last for hours so we didn’t need to hurry.”

“It does.” He agrees. “But I do think we should order our first round of drinks, don’t you?”

“She’ll say anything is fine, but she prefers tea,” Lizzy supplies, nudging your arm at the table and aiming a mischievous grin in your direction while you look mortified that she essentially just made a demand on your behalf.

“Black, green, oolong, white or pu-erh?” Oberyn asks, tilting his head in question. “Don’t tell me you are someone who only drinks hibiscus tea and thinks that’s the best?” He playfully makes a face of horror. “You will insult me.”

“No, no, really it’s—”

Lizzy huffs and pokes you. “Earl Grey with lemon and sugar,” she tells him, seemingly pleased that someone else is willing to make a fuss over you besides her.

“Earl Grey it is.” Oberyn nods. “Do you like the plain earl grey or the cream?”

“Plain, please,” you murmur, as though you’re glad that the least intrusive answer is the honest one. The scowl you shoot Lizzy is an attempt at withering, but you just don’t have that kind of emotion in you today. It’s as if last night swept away all the negativity you had — and while the anxiety remains this is still the best you’ve felt in ages.

Oberyn motions one of the staff over. “A pot of Earl Grey tea with lemon and sugar.” He orders for you. “A Bloody Mary with extra horseradish for Ellaria.” He turns towards Lizzy. “And you, darling?”

“I think I’ll switch to water after this,” Lizzy concedes, tapping the rim of the Bloody Mary she’s nearly finished. They’re quite strong and she was only after some hair of the dog. She doesn’t need to be drunk all over again.

He pouts slightly but turns back towards the man. “A bottle of sparkling water for her and I will have a peach nectar mimosa.” He decides, smirking slightly. “I still have a yearning for sweet peaches this morning.”

You clear your throat, lips pursed together despite the very pleased smile tugging at both corners of your lips, and distinctly avoid your best friend’s eyes for the moment. He had compared your cunt to a peach in every conceivable way last night, espousing its virtues endlessly, and the simple reminder has transported you right back to the image of his head between your thighs.

Oberyn chuckles softly and sends you a knowing smirk. “I think you enjoyed it too, Dove.” He murmurs, reaching under the table to stroke your thigh. “So when did you decide to crash the party?” He asks, looking at both of you with a grin.

“About a week ago,” Lizzy answers honestly, ignoring how much further you sink down into your seat. “When I found those little masquerade masks in a costume shop. I promised I’d find a party to take her to if she rented costumes with me.”

“And technically you did,” you admit, rolling your eyes at your best friend to hide the fact that you’re somewhat mortified to have been found out so easily, and end up in the host and hostess’s beds.

“It is a good thing.” He admits, shrugging nonchalantly. “There are always a few that come that are not on the guest list, it’s a compliment. It means the parties are worth attending.” He smirks. “Although next year you will have invitations.”

Lizzie’s eyebrows raise at that and she glances at you meaningfully, as though she hadn’t had as significant a night as you did.

“We will?” You ask, swallowing the surprise in your voice.

“Of course.” He lifts a brow in amusement, as if he could not believe you would think anything else. “If you come, that is up to you.”

“Of course we’ll come.” The idea that you wouldn’t is shocking and the promise comes out of your mouth extremely quickly, even if you don’t mean it to. It’s not as if you expect to sleep with him again in a year — but a girl can hope. It’s not as if you expect your own circumstances will change much by then.

“So tell me how you came to be in our fair city?” He wants to know more about you, and your friend.

“It’s…complicated,” you admit, although the tale is old as time. “But basically…Lizzy and I were roommates in college and we’ve been friends ever since. So last year when I needed a new start, I came and joined her here.”

“Heart break or financials?” Oberyn asks sagely. There are only two reasons most people need to make a fresh start and he wonders which category you fall into.

“I—” Glancing at Lizzy like a plea for help, your best friend only shrugs and picks up her Bloody Mary as if to say ‘you opened the door, now answer the question.’

“Both,” you admit sheepishly. “I would working for my fiancé’s family business. So when the engagement ended, so did the job.”

“I see.” He lifts a brow and makes a note to dig into your past, wanting to see what kind of man you were engaged to. “Then I hate to be crass, but I owe your foolish ex partner a word of thanks for giving you the freedom to land in my bed.”

“He was a fuckin’ moron.” Lizzy supplies helpfully, and grins when you huff at her. “What? He was! I know you were together forever but that doesn’t make him less of an idiot.”

“Your beautiful friend has a point.” Oberyn chuckles and greets the server when he comes back with your drinks. “The tea pot in front of this beautiful lady.” He reminds him and watches as the entire service set is transferred from the rolling cart. It is a silver and gold bone China set that was his late mother’s favorite.

“Thank you,” is repeated several times both to the server and to Oberyn, and the brewed tea is beautifully doctored just how you like it. It’s a beautiful luxury, you will admit readily, and sip the scalding tea with a blissful smile. “I’m glad it’s over, but the ending was not fun,” you tell him finally. “And…if it’s what needed to happen for us to come here last night? That is a wonderful night to make up for all the pain.”

“Perhaps.” He smirks and reaches over to steal a sugar cube from the little pot like he would as a child. His own drink is perfect and he hums in approval as everyone in the room settles into a quiet chatter.

When Ellaria returns to the table she brings two plates with her and sets one down in front of Oberyn. He takes forever to make even the smallest choices when it comes to having so many options, and while she would never interrupt his fun in the bedroom, it's been long enough that she surely knows his favorite foods. "You should go up," she tells you and Lizzy sweetly. "There is plenty to pick from."

Oberyn is vastly amused and thankful, winking at his paramour before he looks over at you. “Dove, you should go fix yourself a plate.”

Ellaria and Lizzy both look duly impressed that there is already a pet name in place, but you downplay it. Just thanking him again for the tea and getting up from the table to go get your food is enough from now. He's being very sweet to you this morning and it's far more than you expected, so you're going to savor it while it lasts.

“She must have a magical cunt.” Ellaria hums as she watches you and Lizzy scamper off to the buffet tables. “Does she –”

Oberyn shakes his head. “Honestly? I did not ask, although I am certain if she ever had any desire to, you would persuade her.” He compliments, leaning over and picking up her hand to kiss the back of it.

"I'll save the question for after tomorrow's sweetening." Ellaria decides. You seem like you could be overwhelmed by too much attention, and that would not go well for Oberyn's desires.

“Apparently she is recently off heart break and financial strife.” Oberyn discloses. “Perhaps you can question how deep that monetary problem runs?” He won’t take advantage of you by leveraging money, but he will offer you a very lucrative opportunity.

"Do you know what she does?" That is always an interesting conversation, and can be a gateway to many things. "Beside fuck like a goddess, apparently?" Ellaria grins.

“There wasn’t much small talk happening.” Oberyn admits shamelessly, his own grin accompanied by waggling eyebrows. “It is a pity your lover does not like cock, or we could see how we all enjoy each other.”

"There is no such thing as a perfect world is there?" Ellaria sighs dramatically, entirely aware that in every reasonable way, their life is perfect. It is simply a matter of who they choose to share that perfection with. That is the question at hand.

******

“Beautiful day, isn’t it?” Ellaria has to shout to be heard over the wind racing between you, the top down on her sporty little convertible as she zips you away from the mansion and towards what she promises to be the best shopping in the city.

The invitation had come as a surprise to you, but when Ellaria Sand had suggested you come back over to the mansion today to have lunch, you had tentatively accepted. She was very nice, after all, and interesting -- and the longtime lover of the man that you were struggling to stop thinking about. It made the sound of lunch so civil, and you told yourself that you would not try to peak for Oberyn around the mansion where they both lived.

But as soon as you had arrived she had scooped you up in her car and said that lunch al fresco and shopping sounded divine to her, and you hadn't had the heart to tell her that there was no way in hell that you would be able to shop with her. You had just been quietly glad that you wore your nicest dress today and gotten into the car like she suggested.

"Sunny and beautiful," you agree, wondering where you could possibly be heading.

“I find on days like this, I want to be outside.” She continues on. “Don’t you? What do you do for work?” The question is blunt and automatic, immediately starting in on Oberyn’s request to sweeten you up.

“Oh, um…nothing special. Just…the usual sort of thing.” It’s embarrassing to admit to someone as effortlessly elegant and carefree as Ellaria that you work yourself numb at a coffeeshop every morning and a pizza place every night. Taking shifts off to crash the masquerade and — you thought — sleep off the hangover had been something you worked hard to manage. The afternoons are normally your only free time, and today you’re spending that time with her.

“What is the usual sort of thing?” Her hair is wrapped in a stylish Hermès scarf and her Armani sunglasses are the latest collection. She had dressed specifically to show you what can be yours.

“I work in kitchens,” you answer diplomatically, even though you hate it. Being good at it doesn’t mean it’s what you want to do with your life. You have a hard-earned degree that is sitting and calcifying while you try and fail to find work in your preferred field. When you see her tilt her head out of the corner of your eye, you shrug your shoulders. “I’m a barista and I work at a pizza place,” you clarify finally, deciding to be transparent.

“No wonder you have such lovely taste in tea!” She reaches over and touches your knee gently before taking a firm hold on the wheel. “Do you enjoy it?”

“Not really.” You can admit that even if it doesn’t feel utterly fantastic to do so. “But I’m grateful to have the work.”

“What would you rather do?” She asks. “Dream job or your goal in life?” She smiles over at you. “Mine was to raise my children myself, so don’t discount a homemaker if that’s your dream.”

“I’d like a family at some point.” That’s definitely somewhere in the dreamscape of your fantasy future, though you really don’t know about any of it happening any more. “To be honest?” Glancing over as she drives, you aren’t too surprised to see her pull into an area of underground parking beneath a large and expensive looking shopping mall. You’ve actually been to this one before — you brought a book to the cafe here once to buy an overpriced pot of tea and read in the conservatory-like atmosphere. “I really don’t know. I suppose…I like books quite a lot. But being a librarian takes quite a lot of schooling.”

“It does?” She’s completely unaware of that. “I couldn’t imagine why. I have never been good at reading.” She admits with a laugh. “It bores me. Although Oberyn adores reading. His library is magnificent. At least for fucking in.” She throws you a wink as she parks and shuts off the engine.

“I heard.” The grin you shoot her is honest and amused. Lizzy is beside herself with attraction but trying to be practical about it. “We’re eating here?” You ask, genuinely interested in what sort of bistros or lovely restaurants this building might have.

“Oh, I didn’t even ask,” she huffs, annoyed at herself. “Do you like Indian and sushi?” She cocks her head to the side. “There is this wonderful fusion restaurant on the rooftop. They also make wonderful cocktails.”

“Indian and sushi fusion?” Such an idea had never occurred to you in your entire life, but since they’re two of your favorite foods? Why not. “Sounds incredible. Let’s do it.”

“Oh you will love it.” She promises. “They make these Tikka masala salmon rolls that are to die for.” She rolls her eyes and hooks her arm through yours. “Eat and then shop or shop and then eat?”

"Why don't we eat and then shop?" You suggest, knowing that at some point you will have to bow out and take the city bus back home for work tonight. It would be nice to share a meal beforehand.

“That sounds completely fair.” She knows where you are going and immediately guides you towards the elevators to take you up from the garage level. “We will get to know each other and perhaps get drunk while we do it.”

"Maybe." It seems rude to point out that you're going to work after this so that won't be a possibility, so you simply shrug one shoulder and allow the question to hang in the air. As if you didn't envy the freedom she has so much more than just a little.

She hums, far more observant than she would appear and once the doors open to let you inside the car, she drags you in and presses the button for the rooftop. “Oh damn. You didn’t bring sunglasses.” She huffs and quickly presses the button for the third level. “Quick stop before lunch.”

"I don't need sunglasses, Ellaria. Really, I promise." She's laughing, though, and so radiant that you bite your lip and swallow the protest, starting to do the math in your head for if you can even afford to look at sunglasses in one of these fancy stores.

Once the elevator stops on the desired floors she whisks you away and down the marbled floors towards the stores. “Armani or Louis Vuitton?” She asks, turning and staring at your face for a second in contemplation.

"I—" You feel like melting into the floor, but she is whisking you down the hallway and apparently not stopping for anything so you swallow what would otherwise be a whimper of worry and decide your credit card is going to have to come out today. "Armani," you decide, knowing the prices there will be considerably lower than anything Louis Vuitton would ever carry.

“Fantastic!” Her eyes light up and she steers you towards the store. “We will find the perfect pair.” She hums and smirks. “The sunglasses and a bikini will be the perfect outfit for an evening around the water gardens.”

"Ellaria." That makes you pause, and you put one hand on her arm gently. "I do have to work tonight."

“No.” She frowns, a small pout on her face and she shakes her head. “That’s not fun. You deserve more than just one evening off to recover from the masquerade.”

“Well…no. It isn’t fun.” That is certainly not the reaction you expected from her, although you’re not entirely sure what reaction you did expect. “But…that’s why they call it work, right?”

She huffs and lifts a brow. “How much do you make an hour?” She demands, even if she knows it’s rude.

You huff, feeling deeply put on the spot, and try to remember that your best friend is half in love with this woman so maybe you should just grit your teeth on manners. “Not much,” you tell her, and when she raises an eyebrow you look down at the floor. “Both of my jobs pay minimum wage. That’s why I need two.” At least the tips are good, you remind yourself. At least the tips are good.

“I will give you one thousand dollars to be my assistant for the afternoon.” She decides, immediately opening her purse and pulling out her wallet. “Will that cover the lost wages?”

“Ellaria…” To a passerby, or even to yourself just days ago, it might seem callous. Flippant. But one of the things you do know for certain about Ellaria Sand is that she is not a careless person. The small and large acts of kindness and caretaking you had seen from her in the small time you had known her reinforce that knowledge. She isn’t careless, she’s just a deeply blunt person.

“Is that not enough?” She glances up at you with a look of concern on her face. She could have sworn it would cover it, but perhaps you have extremely good tips.

“It’s like three weeks’ pay, that isn’t the point.” The Milk of Human Kindness, that was the phrase. Ellaria is tough. Strong. But made with the milk of human kindness. “I need to keep my job. I can’t just call out whenever I feel like it.”

“Hand me your phone.” Ellaria demands, holding her hand out.

“Why?” But even as you ask it, that part of your mind that is conditioned to please others by doing what your told has you reaching for your cell phone in your pocket.

You’ve opened it for her, so Ellaria taps your contacts and finds that you are a very organized kind of girl. Another reason why Oberyn must adore you and why the idea that has come to mind is such a good one. She clicks on a number and holds the phone up to hear ear, motioning for you give her one seconds.

“I’d like to speak to the manager please.” She murmurs politely when the call connects. As she’s waiting, she smiles at you reassuringly.

“Thank you for calling Main Street Pizza, this is Greg.” The tired, heavily accented voice of a sixty-year-old lifelong smoker who has audibly given up on life comes over the line. “You wanted to talk to the manager?”

“Yes, this Ellaria Sand.” She introduces herself as she watches you shift in front of her. “I have one of your employees standing in front of me right now.” She says your name and waits for him to acknowledge that fact.

“Yeah?” The man drawls, snapping on his gum. “Listen lady, I’m sorry if she said something to piss you off but unless she’s on the clock? She’s not my problem.”

She snorts at his answer, shaking her head and hating that you have ever worked for such a dick. “Oh no darling, you are very much mistaken.” She chuckles. “I’m calling to inform you that she will not be in tonight.” She pauses for a moment. “Or ever again. Consider this her notice.”

“Ellaria!” Your hiccuped shriek of fear and dismay covers whatever your boss blusters on the other end of the call, but she only smiles at you and fends you off as you try to take your phone back.

“How do you sleep at night?” She continues on. “Paying your employee wages that make them have two, sometimes three jobs to just be able to survive.” She hisses. “You should be ashamed of yourself, even though I know you won’t be. But you will no longer be taking advantage of her!” With that, she pulls the phone away from her ear and ends the call.

“What the hell am I supposed to do now?!” As soon as she hands you back your phone you’re fumbling, hands shaking as you blindly try to punch the necessary buttons to call the pizza place back and beg your awful boss to take you back. “I need to survive, Ellaria!”

“Don’t you dare call that place back.” She chides softly, reaching out and taking your hands in hers. “You will not be destitute.” She swears.

“How?” Fear and desperation rises so high in your throat you feel sick. “Money doesn’t fall out of trees, I know you know how hard it is to make it on your own. And this isn’t just about me! Lizzy and I live together. If I can’t pay my half of the rent, we both end up evicted.”

She feels bad, truly, when she sees how desperate you are. “Shhhhhush.” She coos softly, letting go of your hands and cradling your jaw in both her hands. “I have already thought of the perfect replacement for your terrible jobs.” She promises. “And if you do not wish to take it, I will personally pay your bills until you find something you want.”

“My finances are not your responsibility.” Accountability has been drilled into your head for your entire life, and now it comes screaming to the surface even in the face of her reassurance. “I’m not qualified for anything. My job experience is all retail and food service. Getting a job is impossible even for the well-educated. I appreciate your standing up for my worth but the reality is that no employer is going to pay that well.”

She sighs softly. “Oberyn has been toying with the idea of having a curator for his collections.” She murmurs softly. “He has so many duplicate books, so many different libraries. He wants to condense them. He’s mentioned it many times. He will give you the job.” Her lover has no problem helping others with their dreams and goals. He is very generous and it seems as if she is battering down the gates of your life rather than sweetening you to the prospect of what he can offer you. “I have made a mess of all this.” She huffs. “I was supposed to show you what could be yours rather than bully you into changing your life.”

“I’m not…entirely sure that I understand?” In fact you feel like you’re reeling, and that is not at all a helpful thing when you’re trying to process everything Ellaria is telling you. “Oberyn…wants to hire me? To be his personal curator?” You pinch your eyes shut and open them again but it doesn’t help to clear your mind. “He didn’t even know that…that I love libraries or that I studied history?”

“No.” She shakes her head and sighs, looking around before she pulls you closer. “Let’s buy your sunglasses and I promise I will explain while we have a very stiff drink, okay love?”

“Well…” you’re shrug your shoulders helplessly. “I don’t have to work anymore, so I guess a drink is okay.”

“Don’t be too mad at me, I promise you will be perfect. Hopefully even wonderful.” She promises, although she feels so guilty right now.

“I’m not mad.” The realization washes over you and you swallow, holding back a thick coating of emotion. “I’m…scared. And I know we barely know each other so this whole outing has been oversharing anyway.”

“We might not know each other well, but we will.” Of that, she is absolutely certain. “Come, we will pick out a pair of sunglasses and then we will work everything out.” She takes your hand again and starts to steer you towards the Armani store.

It seems pointless to ask how she is so certain. Ellaria appears to be certainly of everything. Instead you just allow yourself to be tugged along, worried and scared and anxious that whatever this remarkable, chaotic woman has to say to you will shake your fragile life even further.

In the store, Ellaria has you try on a dozen pair of sunglasses, not letting you look at the tags before she nods. “Those are the ones.” She decides. “How do you like them?”

They’re classic Armani tortoise shell glasses that complement the shape of your face no matter who you are, and honestly you’d be silly not to love them. “They’re beautiful,” you admit, a little too softly. “But Ellaria…” But you just quit my job for me.

“Don’t.” She holds up a finger and then gently pulls them off your face. “My treat.” She insists before she whirls around and hands them to the associate. “Please get the box for these. She will be wearing them out, of course.”

The associate nods and walks away to comply, not seeing the ways your brows furrow. The feeling in your chest is an odd mixture of shame, guilt, and an unexpected appreciation for the woman currently offering you a slice of something beautiful and lasting for no other reason than kindness. Ellaria — and Oberyn, for that matter — owe you nothing. But that does not stop them from giving, apparently.

“Thank you,” you offer finally, unsure what else to say.

“You have nothing to thank me for.” She huffs. “I have made your anxiety go through the roof.”

“My anxiety is always through the roof.” You laugh it off because she’s right. “That doesn’t make you less nice.”

She snorts and shakes her head, "you are too precious." She murmurs and pulls out her credit card to pay for the glasses.

“So why exactly are sunglasses so mandatory for this restaurant?” You ask, trying not to fidget in place at the cash stand. “Just because it’s on the roof?”

"Absolutely." She smiles and turns towards you as the clerk runs the card.

“That seems a little dramatic.” Still, you smile affectionately. “But then? So is Oberyn. So I shouldn’t be surprised you are, too.”

"I have spent so much time with my lover that I am sure that our characteristics have merged." She laughs. "But I was honestly thinking about how good you will look wearing these and a small bikini we are going to buy you after lunch."

“You mentioned that before.” Walking out of the store together, you laugh again and shake your head a little. “Determined to have me out by that pool at some point? Or is that what Oberyn wanted you to butter me up for?”

She hums in amusement. "No, I don't think that you would believe me if I told you right now." She admits softly.

“One very strong cocktail, right?” Trying to be encouraging, you wave your hand toward the escalator inside the mall and smile. “Let’s go.”

Ellaria takes the bag that has the luxurious box and carrying case for the glasses. "Very strong." She laughs as she swings the bag and loops her arm through yours.

Three floors up, the roof of the luxury shopping center has a smattering of cafes and restaurants, but Ellaria leads you toward one accented with bold patterned tablecloths and oversized gold-upholstered armchairs. Soft music plays inside, and it becomes apparent as soon as the hostess starts leading you inside that the music being piped up to the front of the restaurant to greet diners is actually coming from the live performer out in the dining area.

The skylight is nothing but glass above you, hence why Ellaria had bought you the sunglasses. The hostess brings you over to a beautiful table that is one to very obviously meant to be seen at. “Perfect.” She smiles as the two of you are seated.

"I'll give you ladies some time with the drink menu," the hostess says, before striding away to return to her stand.

It's a stunning place, really. The bright afternoon sun is high overhead and the live music is entrancing. A few people murmur as they recognize Ellaria but she seems entirely unbothered by it. She has been a part of the local gossip in this city so long that it hardly seems to matter to her in the least. Which, you have to admit, is admirable as much as it is enviable.

“So, shall we have a chai martini?” She asks as she looks over the menu. “I know they are excellent.”

"Sounds great," you agree, happy to follow her lead. The fact that it does actually sound good helps immensely.

“You will not regret it.” The second the menu is set down, the waiter is at Ellaria’s elbow. “Two chai martini’s, please and in five minutes have another two brought to the table.” She requests with a smile.

Making a face as if to tell her it’s an admirable pace, you end up laughing as the two of you look over entrees together. You decide on sharing a few sushi rolls of varying degrees of fusion, and by the time the waiter returns Ellaria thanks him and puts in your lunch order easily.

“So.” She holds her martini glass up to yours and clinks it with a small tap. “To new and blossoming friendships.”

“I will absolutely drink to that.” If nothing else, you had agreed to this lunch for Lizzy, but it seems like things are already on their way to becoming far more entangled and interesting than simply a lunch with your best friend’s lover.

Ellaria takes a very long sip of her martini and sighs happily when she is pulling away from the glass. “Now….” She sets the glass down and settles back into her chair. She feels a little more calm now. “We can talk about things.”

“Yes, please.” The drink is delicious, but you can’t deny the burning curiosity. What could she possibly be wanting to talk to you about that required a drink and such an elaborate outing? If Oberyn didn’t want to see you anymore he could simply have said so and that would have been that. You would have been bitterly disappointed, of course, but you’re a big girl. Hearts mend.

“Oberyn wanted me to bring you out today.” She admits shamelessly. “To treat you, sweeten you up for him.” Her hands spread and she shrugs slightly. “But I have been a little too aggressive.”

“That’s the part I don’t understand,” you admit, unintentionally leaning forward in your seat at even the mention of his name. When it comes to Oberyn, you understand that you are simply one in a long line. But he is so incredibly unique that you can’t find it in yourself to mind one bit. “Sweeten me up for what?”

“He wants you.” She tells you bluntly. “Want you to have a relationship with him.”

"Oh!" That was certainly not on the list of things you had counted as possibilities for this conversation -- or ever -- and you're honestly just glad that you hadn't taken a sip of your drink in that moment. "Then...I don't..." Your cheeks flare hot and you clear your throat. "I don't want to sound rude but...why not just ask me that himself?"

“He wanted my opinion on you.” She admits. “And Oberyn likes to give. He is very generous with his lovers and even more so with the ones he has more than just casual flings with. However, he has noticed that you are not like others. He wanted me to show you a glimpse of what he could offer you.”

"You mean I didn't sleep with him because he's famous and wealthy?" It must have really struck a chord with him that you didn't recognize him. That you had just liked him. Been honestly attracted to the man for who he is. "He's a good man. And alarmingly sexy. But you know that better than I do. It isn't hard to be attracted to him. Not at all."

“Oh I know.” She promises. “But your sentiment is exactly what has drawn him in. He wants to keep that for himself.” She picks up her martini glass again. “He is always accusing me of being greedy, but he is just as greedy.”

"So...he wants to...keep me?" You raise your eyebrow at that and have to concede that she was right. You absolutely did need a strong drink for this. "I know he would never give you up, and I certainly would never ask him to."

“Yes.” She nods bluntly. “Oberyn has never been one to limit his appetites, nor limit those of his lovers.” She explains. “It is why your Lizzy found her way into my bed and you tumbled into his.” She smiles.

"And he didn't know if I would be willing to be kept." The thought had never even crossed your mind before. It isn't like there are an abundance of opportunities for broken young women to actually find rich men to shower them in money that aren't either incredibly creepy or bordering on illegal. "So he asked you to make it appealing to me."

“Some find it morally or ethically repugnant.” Ellaria snorts indelicately and rolls her eyes. “Oberyn kept me from selling myself on the streets the first night he met me.” She admits. “I was one hour away from going to work at the brothel when I stopped into a bar to have a drink.”

"What's repugnant is people forcing others into desperate circumstances. Not choosing your own means of survival." Still, your mind reels. Not about any sort of moral hang up but just about the reality of the situation. "I wouldn't feel right taking money for nothing," you tell her honestly. "I don't know what the hell I'm qualified to do, but I would feel like I would have to do something for him."

“That is why his library would be perfect for you.” She hums. “I have a feeling you would be spending plenty of time there anyway.” She winks saucily at you. “But I feel as if I have force you into these circumstances.” She frowns as the words come out. “Which is why I will pay for your bills if you decide not to accept Oberyn’s offer.”

"You don't have to do that." While it's appreciated, it still wouldn't feel right. You haven't done anything to earn that sort of generosity from her. "But...can I ask you...what it's like?" Over her shoulder, you can see the waiter approaching with a tray full of small plates and you finish your thought quickly. "Your arrangement wouldn't be exactly the same as mine, I understand that. But...you're the only person I know I could ask as an example."

She smiles, waiting as the plates are brought to the table, along with the second set of martinis. “Another set of drinks in fifteen minutes.” She requests and looks back at you after thanking the waiter. “It’s….freeing.” She admits. “He will not keep you from taking another lover, he would love to play with you if you so choose. He’s intelligent and charming, bold and some would say that he is quick to temper, but he would never harm you.” She promises. “You have the freedom to do what you wish, with whomever you wish it, as long as you also fulfill his need of you.”

You can't help but smile at that. "Which...let's face it. It's Oberyn. That need is an active one."

“And it will only increase when you have children.” She laughs. “I was having to beat him off of me when I was carrying.” She’s joking, but only just.

"That..." The thought dawns on you with the force of summer sun. "That's why you asked me if I wanted a family?"

“I could not see Oberyn denying himself - or you - a child.” She admits with a small shrug. “He does have eight daughters that he adores.”

"I guess I haven't really thought about it as a possibility," you admit. "Not having a partner put a damper on that. And even my ex wasn't too hot on the idea of kids."

“You will never meet a more excited, or involved father.” She can readily testify to that. He has an individual and close relationship with each of his daughters. Any other children would most definitely be treated to the same relationship.

“Do you…I’m sorry if this is rude, but do you have any kind of relationship with the other girl’s mothers?” While you talk she nudges the food toward you a little and you both begin to eat. “I’m just trying to imagine how so large a family fits together.”

“The others…..” Ellaria sighs. “It’s complicated. But the other women wanted nothing to do with the children beyond what Oberyn could give them. So he took custody.” She explains. “He offered to let them see the girls, but none of them have.”

“I see.” That doesn’t sit well with you at all, but it isn’t your place to have an opinion on any of it. Whatever deals Oberyn made with those women it happened a long time ago and it has nothing to do with you. You just hate the idea of the daughters being used as bargaining chips in any way.

She can see that the entire thing bothers you and she reaches out. “He never would have taken them from their mothers if they loved them as the children they were, rather than a means of income.” She promises. “Although the last one before me, she was a nun.”

“I suppose I just don’t like the idea that anyone would ever think of having kids as a source of income,” you admit, trying to wipe the frown off your face. “But life is complicated. I’m sure there was more going on that I have no idea about.”

“He will tell you about each case if you wish.” She knows Oberyn has nothing to hide about his children, never would hide anything.

“I’ll ask once things are…settled.” Once you know what this next step in your life is going to look like. Because despite the uncertainty and the unexpectedness of what is being offered to you, it is an offer that you don’t really see the downside to. Sure…it would only last as long as he decides he’s happy with the rearrangement. But isn’t all employment at will, so to speak?

“He can be very open.” She smiles and picks up her chopsticks. “Shall we partake in your first experience with this particular fusion?” She asks playfully. “And you can ask me any other questions you might have.”

“Is it too forward to ask what your arrangement with Oberyn is?” She’s the only person you could ask such a thing, after all, and you’re curious. He asked her to warm you up to the idea — but the only idea you have of it all right now is vague at best.

“We are lovers.” She has no issue sharing with you. “Friends, companions. Everything you could imagine short of marriage.” She holds a piece of sushi up and examines it as she talks. “But we also have the freedom to do as we wish. If I were walk away today, Oberyn would let me go, and everything I have would still be mine, even though everyone knows he gave it to me.”

“Did you always live with him?” The first of the sushi rolls that you try is bursting with the familiar tastes of tandoori spices and the sweet tang of seasoned sushi rice. Unexpected but very delicious.

“From the very first night.” She nods. “Oberyn does not like giving up a good thing when he has it.” She smirks at you. “As you are finding out.”

"I just don't want to leave Lizzy without help," you explain, and if it wasn't abundantly clear to Ellaria that you were seriously considering the offer it should be now. "Living expenses are enormous. And she has a good job, but it's still hard."

“Ohhhh, I don’t think you would need to worry about Lizzy.” She hums, her smirk deepening.

"And what exactly does that mean?" You ask, raising one eyebrow in interest.

“It means that your friend is a very special woman.” She winks and reaches for another roll.

"I hope it means you're going to be good to her, too?" That would be so much of what Lizzy wants. So very much.

“Of course she would be very well spoiled.” She winks again. “We have decided that the apartments in the west wing that aren’t being used will be remodeled.”

“We?” The bite of sushi in your mouth is a little too big for talking around delicately and you swallow quickly. “You and Oberyn have already talked about it?”

“We have always had the agreement that if we have found someone we are willing to have an arrangement with, that we would bring them to us rather than take away potential time with the girls.” She explains.

“So…you’re going to offer Lizzy an arrangement, too?” What an utter relief that would be, if it’s true. Lizzy is besotted with Ellaria and loves kids despite not wanting to have any herself. She would be so happy to be a part of a family but have the freedom to come and go and live her own life as she pleases.

“I was hoping she would be up for it.” Ellaria admits. “I have so enjoyed the time with her and find that we are very compatible.”

"I think she will love it." And that fact is like the last of your reservations melting away. Like the thing holding you back wasn't worry for yourself, but worry for your friend who had pulled you out of the pit you were in after your breakup. Lizzy had pulled you out, dusted you off, and gotten you back on your feet and you would never ever abandon her after that kind of love.

She can see that you are relaxed knowing that your friend would be taken care of and that speaks to your character so much more than any words could. “He is right.” She muses. “You are wonderful.”

"I don't know about that," you shake your head, ill-equipped for such a shining compliment. "But I love my best friend very much."

“Of course you do.” She tuts softly, as if it is beyond reason that you would think otherwise.

------

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[ittsybittsybunny]

ATLA Live Action Series Review:

The Good

Aesthetically this show felt right. Sure sometimes the outfits didn't quite feel lived in, but I always felt like I was watching a fantasy world with decent effects and interesting design. Also, I really enjoyed the sets!

Bending: Yes some of the fights feel very quick, but the bending looks cool. It is certainly better than 10 benders lifting one big rock. I can honestly say the opening bending fight scene gave me so much hope for this show.

Kyoshi Warriors: I loved seeing them in live action, and I thought Suki's performance was great!

Omashu: I think the mashup of the mechanist made sense since that is an important character overall and I would hate to see him cut. However, both Jet & the secret tunnels felt sloppily thrown in.

Northern Water Tribe: I really loved the way it looked, and appreciated the two episodes we spent here. I think Yue gained more agency in this interpretation, and why shouldn't the moon spirit be a waterbender. Also, episode seven felt the most in tune with the original show's spirit.

Zuko: I think he was one of the most fleshed-out and best parts of the show! Dallas Liu really captured Zuko's spirit, and the scene between him and Aang in episode 6 was wonderful!

Soundtrack: Hearing the original soundtrack bits is always great, and when I first heard the ending music I was so excited.

Is the show perfect, no - but I wouldn't mind a season 2.

The Bad

Pacing: Turning 20 episodes into 8 was bound to lead to some cuts...but oftentimes times things felt too quick or disjointed. I think there were editing problems contributing to this for sure, but sometimes things skipped around too much without a clear purpose as to why. Also, why bring in plots from later seasons when you barely have enough time already?

Writing: This show definitely suffered from exposition dumping, though it did get better as time went on. I think the biggest example of this is actually opening in the past rather than the present. We do not get to learn along with Aang that the world has changed, instead, we get to learn that 100 years have passed....which doesn't hold the same tension or worldbuilding.

Clunky Dialogue: Along with exposition, clunky dialogue is another example of bad writing. I think sometimes I felt like the acting was kind of meh in the beginning, but then over time I began to realize it had far more to do with the lines characters were trying to deliver. The actors themselves are not bad, just cursed with awkward writing and lines that feel out of touch with the setting they're in.

Main Trio: I don't entirely know that I believe Katara, Sokka, and Aang are friends as opposed to 3 people stuck together to save the world. Aang feels a little too somber for a young kid running away from his responsibilities, Sokka is protective, but not exactly the heart of the team, and Katara is sort of just there until the last two episodes. Where is her struggle, her desire to learn so strong she steals from pirates? Also, while Gordon Cormier did a great job, Aang does zero waterbending on his own, is overly serious, and tells Katara not to fight. Where is his desperation to protect his friends? It feels like they all lost emotional depth.

Tension: Bringing Ozai, Azula, and Zhao out in the beginning immediately causes us to lose the realization there is an even bigger bad. Part of why Ozai is so terrifying is he is a primarily silent villain until the third season when we finally see the face of the "big bad evil guy" behind it all. Yes, they add to Zuko's backstory, but again, they are revealing the villains too early. Azula is the antagonist of season 2 and one of my favorite characters, so I hope they do more with her in the future. Finally, Zhao is supposed to be an example of the uncontrollable nature of fire unrestrained, instead, he comes off as vaguely threatening with the supposed true power being Azula.

Characterization: While all characters are bound to lose something in a shorter show, it still felt like certain characters were more mutilated than others. I am sure there are 100 different opinions on who, but I think the biggest victim was Katara.

Katara: Katara manages to go from a complete novice to a bending master in what feels like a matter of days. The journey feels short, and that makes the results feel largely unearned. Katara is one of the strongest personalities in the show, determined, kind, and fiery. In many ways, she is the unpredictability of water - equally dangerous as it is necessary to live. She is the child of a war who lost her mother, forced to grow up too soon, and even raised her older brother. Yes, Katara often gets stereotyped as the mom friend, but overall she feels underutilized in this show. We really don't see enough of her journey until the very end.

Iroh: Iroh was always comedic but most importantly wise. Even when Zuko is trying to give himself advice, he mimics Iroh. Instead, he seems to be used more as comedic relief without the underlying experience. He just doesn't feel right. Also, he kills Zhao instead of Zhao getting himself killed - which is less about Iroh and more about the writing than anything.

Ozai is weirdly a little too nice. Yes, he burned Zuko and pits his kids against each other, but he feels toned down in a show claiming to be more mature than the original cartoon.

Azula is perhaps more realistically worried about losing her status as the golden child, but she is also missing the cruelty she and her father share. I understand worrying about making your character cartoonishly evil, but the Fire Nation is currently a deeply nationalistic empire trying to control the world. Where is the deep-seated belief that they are better than other people, not just trying to bring balance to the world? There is a line between creating complexity and toning down the very real evil inherent in this plan.

Roku: I can only say what the fuck was that. He was barely there, and not the serious master to Aang's youthful exuberance.

The Ugly

Show, Don't Tell: The show's single biggest issue seems to be speeding through story parts by simply stating things. Instead of allowing the audience to discover, trusting that we are smart enough to understand, let's just blatantly say things like Zuko is the only reason the 41st division is alive to their faces. Even though in the context of the story Ozai literally already said that.... it's the division, the division for Zuko, Zuko's division.

Thematic Misunderstandings: I think this show makes several minor changes with major implications, such as airbenders actively fighting the firebenders, when airbenders are known for their pacifist nature and the lie of an Airbender fighting force is actively propaganda. Similarly, Aang very quickly accepts his role as the avatar and doesn't even run away in the beginning. Without this conflict between his desire to be a carefree child and the fact that the world needs him - the show loses a key aspect of Aang's character. Also, the obsession with downplaying the avatar state as something dangerous feels like a disservice to the tradition, connection, and strength of the avatar, which can be permanently destroyed as the trade-off for that kind of power. It's dangerous for the balance of the entire world, not just because it's powerful!

The Agni Kai: Zuko's fight against his father is one of the defining moments of Ozai's cruelty, not just because he is willing to fight his child, but because Zuko tried to do everything right. Zuko shows deference to his father, apologizes, and most importantly refuses to fight! The determination not to upset his father and still be grievously injured and banished is a hugely important theme for the fire nation and Zuko's life as a whole. He tries to do everything he is supposed to and only regains his father's acceptance after he "kills" Aang. Zuko's struggle between moral vs. social right and wrong in contrast to his family is hugely important to his character.

-----

TLDR: ATLA was a fantastical animated television show that was never afraid to show character development and flaws. When you turn 20 episodes into 8, you are bound to lose something. You hollowed out the middle, leaving the shell of important moments and events without ever wondering if all the times in between formed the true spirit of the show.

Rating: 6.5/10 It's perfectly fine and worth a watch. Not a disaster, but certainly falls flat of the original.

[wholoveseggs]

Hey, I love the stories you are writing for us! Thank you so much! If there's room for another one, here's an idea: human reader is pregnant with Elijah's child but is afraid he might not believe her as it is impossible for a vampire to procreate. His reaction, in fact, causes her to leave New Orleans, and a few years later, she returns, and Elijah learns he is a dad. Fluffy, possibly smutty. ")

Devotion

he's so daddy, he's so father

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

When you find out you are pregnant you are afraid of how Elijah will react. His anxieties around fatherhood get the best of him and he gives in to his darker impulses.

♡♡ Thanks for the request(s) @originals23 @classymesstuff009 & anon ♡♡

I combined the ideas and changed some elements, but I hope I captured the spirit of the requests -xoxo

7.7k words - Warnings: this is less of a story with a plot and more of a series of events over the course of readers pregnancy, lots of angst, childbirth, so so so corny, so much fluff, lots of belly touches, Elijah being violently over protective, more fluff, lots of affection, smut at the end, unprotected sex (duh)

"No no no no no," you mumbled, staring down at the fourth positive pregnancy test you'd taken that day. This couldn't be happening, it wasn't possible. But as you glanced over the little box and read the word "pregnant" again and again, it began to sink in. You were having a baby, Elijah Mikaelson's baby, a baby whose existence was impossible.

A sob you had been suppressing broke free, and you collapsed on the edge of the tub. You had no idea what you were going to do, your relationship with Elijah was complicated and had no label, and the thought of raising a baby by yourself was daunting.

"I'll figure it out," you told yourself as you pulled yourself up and splashed some cold water on your face.

You needed to tell Elijah, which was an entirely different kind of terrifying. He had always been very clear that vampires were unable to procreate, so he likely would not believe you. The thought made your stomach turn, and you rushed to the toilet once more to empty the meager contents.

It took you a couple weeks before you were able to build up the courage to tell Elijah. You had tried to find the words to break the news, but every time you thought you had it figured out, you panicked and decided against it.

But you were starting to show, and you knew it wouldn't be long until your clothes no longer concealed your growing belly. So, the day after your second ultrasound you invited Elijah over for dinner.

He was worried about you, it had been over a month since he'd seen you last and over two months since the last time you were intimate together. He missed you, and wondered if you'd met someone else. But that was the only explanation he could think of.

When he arrived at your place, he noticed something different right away. You looked exhausted, but you had a small glow to you, he also noticed that you gained some weight and he enjoyed how it filled out your figure.

You greeted him at the door, and he pressed a kiss to your cheek before handing you a bottle of wine. "Thank you," you smiled softly, leading him inside and taking the wine to the kitchen.

"It's been awhile," Elijah began, not knowing where to start, "are you doing alright?"

"Not exactly," you admitted, pouring two glasses of water and taking a seat on the couch next to him. Your hands began to shake, fear gripping you once more.

Elijah reached over and took your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "What is wrong?" He asked, searching your eyes.

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes for a moment before speaking. "I'm pregnant."

You could see the confusion, the anger, the disappointment and a dozen other emotions flash through his eyes. You couldn't stand the way he was looking at you, so you pulled your hand from his and stood, pacing around the room.

Elijah didn't know what to think, clearly you were seeing someone else. It hurt him, but neither of you ever had the talk about being exclusive. The thought of you with another man disappointed him immensely, it made him realize how much he wanted you all to himself. But it was too late for that now.

"Elijah, say something," you begged, tears streaming down your face. You were desperate for him to just say anything.

"Who is the father?" He questioned, his voice low.

You expected this question and had thought about your response for a while. Of course he wouldn't think it was his, it was impossible. But you had been with no one else, and you were tired of being a secret, you wanted to be a family, and if he rejected the idea, then that was on him.

"You," you answered, wiping the tears from your cheeks.

"That's not possible," he shook his head. "I can't procreate."

"Klaus can, why not you?" You snapped. You weren't expecting him to believe you, but the reality of it hurt more than you expected.

"Klaus is unique, I am not," he stated plainly. You were quite distressed and although he didn't believe himself to be the father he still had sympathy for your situation.

“Is the father not... A good man?" He asked.

You began to sob, the hormones were really working against you, and you didn't know what to do. He had no idea how to react, and the longer you stayed silent, the more worried he became.

"I'm sorry," he spoke, his voice low, as he moved towards you.

"Don't," you shook your head, pulling away from his touch. "If you don't believe me, that's fine. I'm not going to beg you. I can raise this baby on my own."

"I can't be the father, y/n," Elijah said, trying to reach for you once more.

"Just leave, please," you pleaded. He didn't believe you, he thought you were seeing someone else, and you couldn't stand to be in the same room with him any longer. "Get out Elijah!" You shouted.

Frustration rose within him, he didn't enjoy being blamed for something he didn't do.

“Fine," he muttered, moving towards the door.

You felt overwhelmed with despair and wanted nothing more to do with him, so you watched him walk out the door without saying a word.

It had been a few weeks since you last saw Elijah and your mental health was deteriorating at an alarming rate. You had very little support financially or emotionally and it was taking a toll on you.

You hadn't slept or eaten well and when you did, you often felt sick afterwards. You had known about postpartum depression, but apparently there was something called prenatal depression as well. You had been reading online about the symptoms, and it was almost as though you were looking in a mirror.

You needed help, but couldn't will yourself to ask for it. You had no family, and no friends in the city. The only person you knew in Louisiana was Elijah, and you didn't want anything to do with him.

His rejection of you and the baby hurt more than anything you'd ever experienced before. You couldn't even bring yourself to look at a picture of the ultrasound. You felt alone and abandoned.

You would walk the streets at night, a foolish thing to do considering the threats in New Orleans. But it was the only thing that seemed to calm your mind, and the fresh air helped ease the nausea.

It was a clear, warm night and the streets were quiet. The soft glow of the street lights created a calming atmosphere, and the cool breeze blew the hair away from your face. You closed your eyes and breathed deeply, enjoying the moment of peace.

Then you started to cry, your hormones making you feel like you were losing your mind. You hated it, you would start to cry for no reason and then cry some more because you were frustrated over crying for no reason. It was an endless cycle.

You felt so lost, you thought you could do this all on your own, but you hadn't even had the baby yet and you were falling apart. Even though Elijah didn't believe the child to be his, it was still a Mikaelson and that came with many consequences, some you couldn't possibly foresee. You knew of Hope and how she barely survived her birth, what if the same thing happened to you and your child? You didn't have Elijah to protect you.

You knew you needed to swallow your pride and convince Elijah, he was the only one who could protect both of you.

Your feet took you to the compound before you could talk yourself out of it, and you stood at the gates, hesitating for a moment before making your way inside. You could feel the baby kick and move, it strengthened your resolve.

Elijah was in his study when he heard you approaching, and he wondered what you wanted. He decided to leave you alone after you kicked him out. It was the right thing to do, he reminded himself, he was not the father.

When he saw you standing in the doorway, he could tell you were upset, but he had no desire to talk to you, not after the last time.

"Elijah, please listen to me," you said softly, the words sticking in your throat. "The baby is yours, I have never slept with anyone but you. There is no one else, only you."

He sighed, he wished he could believe you, but he knew it was not possible. He wondered how awful the true father had to be if you were here lying to him once again.

"I know we were never exclusive, but I wish you would be honest with me about whoever the father is," he said, his voice low.

You stared at him for a moment before a sob escaped your lips. "Elijah, there is no one else, there has never been anyone else."

"Why do you insist upon lying?" He asked, turning away from you, unable to stand the pain in your eyes.

Sudden rage boiled over inside of you and you lashed out at the nearby table, knocking the items onto the floor. "I am not fucking lying!" You shouted.

Your outburst was quite unexpected, and he turned back to look at you, his eyes narrowing. Before he could say anything Freya walked in, alerted by the yelling and broken glass.

"What's going on?" She asked, stepping in between the two of you.

The tears returned, always at the most inconvenient times, and you just sobbed into your hands and knelt to the floor. Pure frustration and exhaustion took over and you were completely overwhelmed.

Freya looked at Elijah, confused and annoyed. He wasn't the type to yell, and certainly not at a pregnant woman. She wondered what was going on and why you were so upset.

Elijah shook his head, and began cleaning up the mess you'd made. He couldn't bear to look at you, the pain in your eyes was too much for him.

Freya walked over and knelt next to you, rubbing your back. "Tell me what's wrong sweetheart," she said softly.

The moment Freya touched you she felt it, her own blood, running through your veins.

"It's okay," Freya assured you. "Can I touch your belly?"

You nodded again, and she gently placed her hand over the swell, and instantly felt the magic pulsating from your womb. Freya could always sense her own blood, so long she searched for it. And here it was, right in front of her.

She was overjoyed, she had a niece or nephew, a new tiny Mikaelson for her to dote on. She was also so angry at her foolish brother she could have strangled him.

"Elijah," she said sternly, mustering her big sister voice to scold her little brother. "It's yours," she said firmly, standing and facing him.

He froze, a mixture of emotions passing through him. First he felt disbelief, then excitement, and finally dread. If this was his child, then the threats they faced everyday were even more dangerous.

"Are you certain?" He asked, not wanting to believe, fear gripping his heart.

Freya nodded, and moved to stand next to you, helping you to your feet. You were exhausted, physically and emotionally.

"Why didn't you bring her to me sooner?" She asked him, helping you over to the sofa and fetching you a glass of water. "Look at her Elijah, how could you leave her like this?"

He knew his sister was right, and he felt ashamed. He had been a fool, and caused you unnecessary suffering. He would not be making that mistake again.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, coming to kneel in front of you. "Forgive me, please."

"I tried to tell you," you said softly, sniffling quietly.

"Leave us Freya, thank you," he said, not taking his eyes off you.

Freya was reluctant, but agreed, closing the door behind her. Elijah sat next to you, his posture stiff, and his face a stony expression. You were afraid, unsure what he would do or say.

He was always prone to self-loathing, but this was a new level, and he didn't know what to do. He felt incredibly guilty and responsible for the pain and stress he caused you. You did not look well, and he knew he needed to do everything he could to fix this.

"I'm sorry," he repeated, you looked dazed and swayed a bit, he pulled you close, resting your head on his shoulder.

"Don't apologize," you whispered, lifting your head and looking at him, "just promise you will help me, that's all I ask,"

Elijah was taken aback by the request. Of course he was going to help, why wouldn't he? But the fact that you needed to ask, made him feel terrible, made him feel like Klaus.

"Of course," he assured you, brushing a stray tear from your cheek.

A few tears escaped your eyes. You were tired and overwhelmed and his words and gentle touches were enough to completely break you. You began to cry, burying your face in his chest as you sobbed. A tidal wave of conflicting emotions washing over you, frustration, anger, guilt and a tiny hint of relief.

Elijah felt terrible, and he hated himself for causing this. You were pregnant, alone, and suffering. He would never forgive himself.

"You will stay here and you don't have to worry about a thing," he soothed, gently rubbing your back, "I will take care of everything, I promise,"

He meant it, you and the baby were his responsibility now, and he would protect you both with his life.

It had been a month since you moved into the compound and Elijah was true to his word and took care of everything.

He compelled doctors to check on you and Freya was also doing a spell daily to ensure the baby was healthy and developing well.

But he didn't have to compel people for the things that mattered. He was the one cooking your meals, helping with the nursery, and ensuring you were getting rest.

One night after dinner, you were sitting on the sofa together, talking and laughing.

You were starting to feel better, but you still struggled with your emotions, and Elijah did his best to make sure you were always happy and stress free.

You began to feel a little anxious, and he immediately sensed it, pulling you close to cuddle with him. Neither of you had discussed your growing feelings and neither of you knew where you stood with each other.

He placed a warm hand on your growing bump, and it instantly soothed the baby, and in turn, helped calm your nerves. You leaned closer into him and he wrapped his other arm around your shoulder.

He enjoyed having you so close, and he could smell the sweet scent of your shampoo as you rested your head against his shoulder. He still felt such guilt for the pain and stress he had caused you.

"Is this okay?" He asked softly, his hand slowly moving over the swell.

You smiled, enjoying the gentle caress. "Mmhmm," you hummed, snuggling deeper into his side.

He was being very sweet, and you were beginning to suspect that he had more than just feelings of obligation for the baby.

Elijah was enjoying the feeling of your body pressed against his, and he hoped that he could continue to make amends for the way he behaved.

"Have you thought of any names?" He asked, resting his chin on the top of your head.

"Hmmm," you thought, enjoying the warmth of his hand and the rumble of his chest. "I'm thinking… Elijah jr," you teased, giggling.

He chuckled and gave you a light squeeze. "Absolutely not," he smirked, kissing the top of your head.

It was a pleasant moment and the two of you laughed and talked about the upcoming birth and baby names.

Eventually, you fell asleep, and Elijah picked you up and carried you to bed. He gently tucked you in and placed a kiss on your forehead.

Now that you were asleep, he could let his own anxieties surface. The trauma around Hope's birth still haunted him and he would do anything to prevent that from happening to you.

So he did the same thing he had done every night since you moved in. He left the compound to go hunting.

The first night you arrived, he went out for a drink, planning on just having one to calm his nerves. But then he heard a group of young vampires discussing the strung out looking pregnant woman walking the streets at night. And when they wondered what a pregnant woman's blood would taste like... Well they didn't stand a chance after that.

It made him feel better, seeing their body parts scattered around him, to smell their blood and have their dead hearts in his hands.

And so on it went, he would stalk the streets of the French Quarter, waiting for anyone to dare mention you or the baby. It didn't matter who, why or even where, they would never get a chance to speak again.

Every night he would return, his hunger sated, and he would climb into bed with you. You were still sound asleep and unaware of what he was doing. He would pull you close to him, and listen to the soft rhythmic beat of your heart and the heart of his child. It was the only thing that calmed him, and it helped him drift off into a peaceful sleep.

But that night you woke, the baby was kicking and it made you feel nauseous. You got up to go to the bathroom, too groggy to notice Elijah in the shower until you walked in.

You gasped at the sight of him covered in blood, halfway through washing it off of him under the warm water.

He noticed the shocked look on your face, and stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist.

"Is that... blood?" You asked, eyeing the pink tint to the water as it disappeared down the drain.

Elijah hesitated, "it's nothing you need to worry about," he insisted.

He wasn't trying to lie or deceive you, he was trying to protect you. He knew it was twisted and wrong, and he would be the first to admit he had a dark side, but he would never want you to see it.

"Why are you covered in blood?" You asked, a feeling of dread settling in the pit of your stomach.

Elijah was not accustomed to answering questions, he was usually the one giving the orders, but you were not one of his siblings. He would tell you the truth, you deserved that.

"It's the blood of those who wish to do us harm," he admitted.

He expected you to be shocked, but the truth was, you weren't. He was a Mikaelson, and a powerful vampire, it was only natural that others would want to hurt him and his family. Hayley had shared with you what happened to her when she gave birth to Hope, you were beyond frightened of it happening to you. Fear is a powerful thing, it can override any sort of morals you may possess.

"And did you kill them?" You asked, looking directly into his eyes.

He nodded, he could see that you were not upset, and he was relieved.

"How many?"

Elijah was slightly taken aback by your curiosity, and it gave him pause.

"A lot," he admitted, his dark eyes flashing in the dim light of the room.

"I know you are afraid, I am too," you said softly, reaching out and touching his face. "I'm afraid of the birth, of our child being in danger," you confessed, "and I'm afraid for you and all the darkness you take on to protect us,"

"I'm doing what I have to," he said softly, covering your hand with his.

"I know," you nodded, leaning closer and resting your forehead against his. "And I am grateful for that, and I trust you, but I don't want you to be consumed by it,"

He wrapped his arms around your waist and held you tight, listening to the gentle beat of your heart and that of your child.

"Let's get you back to bed," he said softly, kissing your forehead.

You were still exhausted, and he wanted you to rest. He helped you back to bed and tucked you in, placing a soft kiss on your forehead before heading to his own room.

From that night on he stopped hunting, and spent more time with you. The two of you were becoming closer, but he didn't want you do feel any sort of pressure to be with him. He would be happy with whatever you were comfortable with.

He was plagued by nightmares, visions of you dead in his arms the same way Hayley was, and he woke up in a cold sweat every night. He would climb into bed next to you and pull you close, placing his hand on your bump and waiting for the baby to kick. When the child would move, it was a reassurance that the two of you were alive, and you were safe.

Your eighth month of pregnancy was difficult, and Elijah had become even more attentive. Your ankles were swollen, your back ached, and the baby was a wild one.

But the worst part was the hormones, they were completely out of control. You cried at everything, the commercial about a cute dog, a sad movie, and even a happy song. You were a wreck and it was a struggle just to get through the day.

Hayley, Rebekah and Freya had noticed your increasing distress and decided to throw you a baby shower. It was nice to be surrounded by people that cared about you.

The women of the Mikaelson family understood you more than anyone ever could, and they did their best to make sure you were comfortable. Hayley was especially sympathetic and supportive, having been through it herself.

"The last three months are killer," she laughed, patting your belly.

"Tell me about it," you sighed, watching Rebekah and Freya decorate the courtyard for the upcoming party.

"They are really going all out for this," Hayley laughed, and you could tell she was pleased that the other two were trying to make you feel welcome.

"I think it's more for the baby than me," you giggled, "they love being aunties,"

"Am I an auntie too?" Hayley teased, knowing she wasn't biologically connected, but the baby was still family.

You nodded, and she was beaming with joy.

"Well, i'm excited for Hope to have a little cousin, she needs someone to play with," Hayley smiled, her hand still resting on your belly.

You were both startled by a sudden sharp movement from the baby, and laughed.

"Well, this one will definitely keep her on her toes," you laughed.

The party was extravagant to say the least, it was more of a ball than a baby shower. Klaus had invited every faction of the supernatural world and there was an assortment of vampires, witches and wolves mingling together.

Klaus and Elijah decided to take an entirely different approach to your pregnancy and the impending birth than the one they had with Hayley.

They knew not to repeat the mistakes they made the first time and wanted to foster peace and harmony among the factions.

Elijah was on edge, his nightmares becoming increasingly worse, and he was struggling to find a way to ease his anxieties.

He would have preferred not to have this party, but he was overridden by the rest of his family.

He knew it was important, a sign of good faith and acceptance. But his mind was plagued with the past and the pain and suffering that came from that. He wanted to forget the horrors and the violence and the blood, and focus on the future and the new life that was coming.

He dove head first into the politics, spending the evening schmoozing and talking business with the representatives of each faction. It was the only way for him to feel calm and in control, and it kept his mind from drifting into darker corners.

"Are you okay?"

His thoughts were interrupted by you, and the sound of your voice calmed him. You had come over to him and was holding his hand, looking concerned.

You looked so beautiful, your hair in soft curls, your belly protruding from a flowy blue dress. You were round and glowing and a perfect picture of motherhood.

"Of course," he assured you, squeezing your hand and taking a sip of his drink.

You were worried about him, he seemed distant and preoccupied.

"It's too much isn't it? This party," you asked, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the crowds.

"No," he shook his head, "it's wonderful," he forced a smile, not wanting to worry you.

"If you want to leave, we can," you offered, feeling uncomfortable, and not wanting him to be either.

He kissed the side of your head, a gesture that made you blush. "This is for the baby, and I will not deny the baby anything,"

Elijah had always been a bit affectionate towards you, but he never overstepped his bounds and you were unsure of how to handle it. You enjoyed his presence, but it was getting a little confusing.

You were a bit flustered, and excused yourself, going to find some air outside. Elijah watched as you walked away and was tempted to follow, but he had his hands full, trying to talk the wolves out of challenging a vampire for a perceived slight.

You leaned against the balcony, letting the cool air calm your nerves.

"How's it going?" Said a party goer, you weren't sure what faction they were a part of, but they seemed a little drunk.

"Fine," you said, not wanting to be bothered.

"Pregnant with a Mikaelson, that's some shit luck," he snorted, clearly intoxicated.

"Excuse me?" You scoffed, wondering why this was a topic of discussion.

"I mean, there are three benefits to fucking vampires," he began, holding his hand up to count them, "one, no diseases, two, usually really good in bed and three, no pregnancies,"

He began to laugh, and you felt angry and defensive.

"I would appreciate it if you kept your mouth shut," you warned, not wanting to hear the drunken ramblings of an idiot.

"Was it worth one and maybe two to not have the third?" He laughed, clearly not getting the hint.

You were furious, and you went to walk away, but he grabbed your arm. "Lemme touch your belly, I wonder how strong a Mikaelson kicks," he laughed.

Before you could react Elijah appeared and had the drunk man by the throat. A crowd of party goers gathered to watch the scene.

Elijah was completely overcome by his rage, the fear in your eyes when the man grabbed you took him right back into his endless nightmares. A small part of him knew he should let the man go, but he couldn't, he was consumed by the thought that if he let go, he would lose you, and that was unacceptable.

He squeezed tighter and the man gagged, clawing at his hands and begging for mercy. The crowd gasped in horror as Elijah's eyes went black and veins crawled across his face.

"To anyone here who thinks it's okay to touch her, let this be an example of the fate you await," he snarled.

"Elijah!" You yelled, but it was too late.

The man was dead, and his head fell from his body.

You stood in shock, the entire party was silent, and Elijah dropped the body and turned towards you. He was shaking, and his eyes returned to their normal color, the veins disappearing from his face.

He turned to the crowd, projecting his voice loud and clear. "Do I make myself clear?" He growled, looking at the faces of everyone around him.

The room was full of fearful nods, and the crowd slowly dispersed.

Elijah took your hand, leading you out of the courtyard and towards his room.

You followed without a word, still in shock. He closed the door behind you and you sat down on his bed.

"Are you alright?" He asked, kneeling in front of you, his hands on your bump.

You nodded, and placed your hands over his.

"You have to understand," he began, and you could hear the strain in his voice, "when he touched you, when I saw his hands on you, I..."

He took a deep breath, trying to compose himself, "I can't- I won't. Lose you."

"It's okay," you soothed, placing a hand on his cheek.

Elijah could hardly control his emotions, the fear and anguish was too much, and he let out a sob, pulling you into his arms and holding you tight.

You cradled his head in your hands and held him close, whispering sweet words and letting him know it was okay.

He was the strongest person you had ever known, and seeing him like this made your heart break.

"Shhh," you soothed, kissing the top of his head, "I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere,"

You felt his grip loosen, and his breathing became more steady.

"It's okay," you repeated, placing soft kisses on his cheek and forehead, and moving to his lips.

You hadn't kissed in nearly 8 months, not since the night you had made love and conceived the baby. But you felt him return the kiss, and he wrapped his arms around you.

He was hesitant and unsure of how you would respond. You had been together once, but things had been complicated and stressful. But he wanted to show you just how much he loved you.

He pulled away, searching your eyes, and finding only compassion and acceptance.

"I'm hoping we can try again, to be together, if you will have me," he whispered, brushing a lock of hair out of your face.

You leaned into his touch, and he was hopeful that you would want the same.

"Of course," you agreed, pressing a soft kiss against his lips, and running your fingers through his hair.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in each other and enjoying the moment. It was peaceful and the first time Elijah had truly felt at ease in months.

The day of the birth was finally upon you, and you were nervous and in pain. Freya and Hayley were at your side, holding your hand and trying to keep you calm as they helped you through your labor.

Elijah was pacing in the hallway, anxious and on edge. He had been a wreck, barely able to eat or sleep, and it was obvious to the entire family.

He stopped, listening to you moan and groan and hiss in pain. He wished he could take it all away, and felt a wave of guilt wash over him.

"Why don't you go be with her," Rebekah suggested, putting a hand on her brothers shoulder.

"She doesn't want me in there," he sighed, he had tried, and you had pushed him out, not wanting him to see you like this.

"She's in pain, she's probably not thinking clearly," Rebekah insisted, "trust me, she wants you in there,"

Elijah wasn't sure, but he couldn't handle not being near you any longer, so he went in, ready to be rejected.

You were in bed, sweating and panting and groaning. Hayley was holding your hand and Freya was using a spell to soothe your pain.

You opened your eyes, and saw him, and reached out for him, and he ran to your side, taking your other hand in his.

"You are doing so well," he said softly, his voice full of love.

"I can't," you groaned, feeling as though you couldn't go on.

"Yes, you can," he encouraged, kissing your knuckles.

You were in agony, but his touch and his voice were like a balm to your soul, and it gave you strength.

Rebekah was right, having him next to you was the best thing in the world, and it helped you through the hours of labor.

Finally, the moment came, and you screamed as you gave one final push. The room was filled with the sound of a crying infant and you collapsed back against the pillows.

"It's a boy!" Freya announced, cutting the umbilical cord and wrapping the baby up, passing him over to you.

"Oh my goodness," you cried, tears of joy running down your face as you looked down at the precious life in your arms.

"A boy," Elijah whispered, staring at his son in awe. He reached out and placed his hand on his sons head, feeling the soft downy hair.

"He's beautiful," Hayley commented, admiring the little bundle.

"Just like his father," you smiled, and Elijah kissed the top of your head, wrapping his arms around you and your new baby.

You were exhausted, but ecstatic, and Elijah couldn't help but feel pride and joy. He had helped create such a perfect and precious creature. Out of all of his darkness came something pure and beautiful, and he would do anything to protect his son.

As the night went on the others left, leaving you and Elijah alone with the baby. The both of you couldn't take your eyes off of him.

"We need to decide on a name," you said softly, stroking the babies face with your finger.

"I think," Elijah began, watching the baby squirm and wriggle, "he should be named after his uncle Henrik,"

"That's perfect," you smiled, a tear running down your cheek, "Henry,"

"Henry," Elijah repeated, looking at his son, "I'm your father, and I promise to always love and protect you,"

"I will love you, until the end of time," you whispered, placing a soft kiss on Henry's tiny nose.

Henry let out a little squeak and yawned, and you and Elijah laughed. He was the most perfect thing you and Elijah had ever seen, and the two of you couldn't stop smiling.

Life at the compound was hectic, with Hope and Henry underfoot. Elijah was always watching the babies, making sure they were safe and happy. He was a wonderful father and uncle, and it made you fall in love with him even more.

The two of you were utterly exhausted new parents and Rebekah insisted that the two of you take a break and spend a little time together. She convinced you and Elijah to let her care for Henry for a weekend, while the two of you got away.

It was hard for both of you, you had never been apart from him for more than a few hours, but the two of you needed the time alone.

"Just go, have fun," Rebekah had encouraged, taking Henry from Elijah, "you both need a break,"

The drive was long, but Elijah's company made it go by faster, and you finally arrived at the cabin.

"I hope this is okay," Elijah said, helping you out of the car.

"It's perfect," you assured him, it was cozy and private, and the view was spectacular.

The two of you walked inside, and took in the surroundings. It was a large cabin, with a beautiful stone fireplace and a big open kitchen. Elijah started the fire as you cooked dinner, the two of you fully in sync.

It was easy having him as a partner, and you felt relaxed and at home. The only thing missing from your lives was sex. Once Henry arrived it was a constant state of exhaustion and there wasn't much room for romance.

You thought back to the night Henry was conceived, and how passionate and hot the experience was. But you were nervous to do it again, the pregnancy had changed your body, and you weren't sure how he would react.

After dinner you cuddled up with him on the couch, his arm around your shoulder and your head resting on his chest. He kissed the top of your head and smiled.

"I've missed this," he said softly, playing with a loose strand of your hair.

"Me too," you admitted, running your hand up and down his arm.

He took a deep breath, and you could tell he was nervous about something.

"Is everything okay?" You asked, turning to look at him.

"Yes," he nodded, his brown eyes meeting yours, "I just...want you to know that I am completely in love with you, and I will do anything to make you happy,"

You blushed, and looked away, not sure what to say.

"And I know our relationship has been a bit unconventional," he continued, his voice low, "but I would like to court you, if you will allow me,"

"Court me?" You chuckled, "darling, I think you are doing this all backwards,"

"Perhaps," he laughed, taking your hand in his, "I couldn't ask for a better mother for my child, and a more devoted companion,"

You smiled, and leaned in, kissing him, and the spark was still there. He kissed back, cupping your face with his hands and pulling you onto his lap. His hands roamed your body and your breath hitched when he ran them up your thighs.

"Is this okay?" He asked, stopping, and looking up at you.

You nodded, and pressed your lips against his, wrapping your arms around his neck and grinding against him. He groaned and gripped your hips, guiding them to move with his.

You could feel his growing erection, and the friction against your core made you moan. You had missed this, and could hardly believe you had waited so long.

He picked you up and carried you to the bedroom, laying you down and crawling on top of you, his lips never leaving yours.

You ran your fingers through his hair, and his hands traveled up your shirt, caressing your skin and cupping your breast.

You felt a bit self-conscious, your body was different now, and he hadn't seen it. You didn't want him to be disappointed, but you knew he wouldn't judge you.

"Darling, are you alright?" He asked, pulling away, "we can stop,"

"No," you shook your head, and sat up, "it's just, I'm a little nervous,"

"About?" He asked, furrowing his brows.

"My body," you admitted, "it's different now, and I know it's stupid, but I'm worried,"

He gave you a knowing look, and pulled your dress up over your head. You body was different, your breasts fuller, your hips wider, stretch marks across your belly and thighs.

"These scars are nothing to be ashamed of," he began, kissing the stretch marks across your stomach, "they show your strength and the fact that you brought a beautiful and healthy baby into the world,"

"Elijah," you blushed, not used to hearing him speak so openly about your body.

"These breasts, they have nourished our son. These hips, they carried and protected him," he continued, his hands on your body, caressing every inch.

"I have no words for how beautiful you are," he concluded, his eyes full of lust, "may I continue?"

You nodded, and he pulled his shirt off, exposing his chiseled torso. You ran your hands over his shoulders, tracing his muscles, and down his chest.

He trailed his lips up to your breasts, gently kissing them and sucking your nipples. He was gentle and slow, and it felt incredible. They were extra sensitive from breastfeeding, and his touch sent a shock straight to your core.

He slowly removed your underwear, his eyes raking over your naked body. He kissed every inch of your skin, loving every part of you.

His lips traveled down your belly, and settled between your legs. His tongue moved expertly against your clit, and you gasped, grabbing the sheets.

He hummed contently, missing the taste of you, and wanting to please you. His hands held your thighs, and his tongue teased and swirled.

You moaned and arched your back, it had been so long and you were so close already. He knew just how to get you there, and it only took a few minutes for him to bring you over the edge.

He didn't stop, and continued, sucking and licking, bringing you to orgasm again and again. Your head was spinning, and you could hardly breath, but it felt amazing.

Finally he stopped, and kissed his way up your body, until his lips met yours.

"You deserve a reward for being such a perfect mother," he smiled, his voice full of pride.

You smiled, and kissed him again, running your hands down his chest and stopping at his waistband.

"Now I think it's your turn," you whispered, unbuttoning his pants.

He smiled and watched your face as you underdressed him. His cock sprung free, and you stroked it, running your hand up and down the shaft. Looking into his eyes as he kneeled over you, his eyes heavy and filled with lust.

"It's been so long, I missed your touch," he growled, his voice husky.

"I've missed this too," you replied, stroking him and running your thumb over the tip.

He kissed you slowly and deeply, moaning as your hands worked him. His tongue explored your mouth, and you felt him twitch and throb in your hands.

"Hold on," he said softly, moving away from you.

He got up and rummaged around his bag, coming back with a condom.

"I've never used one of these before," he said sheepishly, and it was the most adorable thing.

You laughed and sat up, taking the foil packet and opening it, rolling it over his cock and kissing him.

"Now, where were we?" You smirked, laying back down.

He crawled back on top of you, lining his cock up with your entrance. He was still gentle, but you were ready for him, and the two of you were eager.

He pushed in, and it felt like the first time, hot and tight. He took his time, pushing in a bit at a time and allowing you to adjust.

Once he was fully inside, he waited a moment, kissing you, and savoring the feeling of being joined with you.

You moved your hips, signaling him to move, and he complied, thrusting slowly and deeply.

The two of you rocked back and forth, the soft sound of skin against skin filling the air. He moved with the perfect rhythm, hitting the right spot with every thrust.

His mouth was on your neck, leaving love bites, and his hands were on your hips, gripping tightly.

"I love you," he groaned, his voice strained.

"I love you too," you moaned, feeling yourself getting close.

You never wanted this to end, a part of you longing for even more than what you already had. You looked into his eyes, feeling the way his body connected with yours so perfectly.

Your orgasm rushed over you, and you squeezed him so hard he pulled out for moment, his cock resting on your stomach. He looked down at you, your pupils blown with love and lust.

"Do you want to make a sibling for Henry?" You said softly, toying gently with the tip of the condom, searching his eyes for an answer.

"Is that something you want?" He asked, looking down at you with pure love.

"Yes," you nodded, "I want another baby, I want a whole family with you,"

He kissed you in response, then smiled down at you, his eyes shining with happiness.

"I will give you anything you want," he whispered.

You pulled the condom off slowly, both of you panting heavily. He looked down, watching as your hands wrapped around his bare cock, pumping up and down, spreading the precum over the head.

You lined him back up, and he pushed back in, his breath catching as he eased his way into your warm and wet heat.

You could feel him throbbing inside of you, his length twitching and swelling as he got closer. He moaned, and rested his forehead against yours, his eyes shut tight.

"I want you to cum inside me," you whispered, knowing he was close.

You could feel yourself getting close, and his breath was labored, his hips grinding against yours, your wetness coating him.

His hips snapped, and his hands gripped the sheets, and with one final thrust he came, filling you up and pushing you over the edge.

He kissed you as he came down, his cock still pulsing as he softened inside of you. He hummed happily, keeping you connected as he rolled you on your side.

You curled up against him, and kissed him, and he pressed his hand gently against your stomach, imagining a tiny being forming inside.

"I always wanted a family of my own," he said softly, nuzzling into you, "thank you for giving me that,"

You squeezed him tighter, understanding the weight of his words. He had given you everything, love, devotion, a family. It was everything you ever wanted. He had helped you become the happiest and the best version of yourself and you did the same for him.

The two of you laid there, cuddled up against each other, safe and content. Tomorrow would bring a new adventure, but right now everything was perfect.

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

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[chigirisprincess]

⠀ ︶︶ 　 ˚ ᡴꪫ Don't Bring me to Tears

— Ajax

⊹ Details. 18+ minors dni, gn!afab!reader, reader is traveller but not lumine, reader is plus size, reader has long hair, friends to lovers, love confessions, kissing, first time together, fingering (reader receiving), oral sex (reader receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, lovey dovey sex, teasing, and banter. ⊹ Run time. 4.3k ⊹ Note. I found this in my drafts from 2022 and decided to polish it up for his birthday! I thought I had posted it! Silly me, I hope you enjoy <3 Happy birthday Ajax!

❝Tensions grow between you and the harbinger you inadvertently befriended as you invite him into your teapot for the first time, your home.❞

It’s quiet, that is the first thing Ajax notices when he enters the teapot, the second is a strange bird-like creature that perks up at your presence, perched at the entrance of the mansion you called home. It sits large and out of place amongst the swaying palm trees and salty ocean breeze, much too big for one person to call home but he supposed you were not alone, not really. There was Tubby the teapot spirit whom he’d learn the name of in passing, and Paimon your travelling companion, and whoever else you decided should be so lucky to become acquainted with your private dwellings. Surely he hadn’t been the first and he likely would not be the last.

“For an adventurer, you sure have a knack for design,” he says while idly skimming his fingertips across one of the many bookshelves in your home. He’s poked around more than he should, pulling out books and touching whatever he could get his hands on, “If I didn’t know any better I might question your merits.”

“It’s all thanks to Tubby.”

You seem to take no offence to his gross implications, rather curling up in front of the large fireplace that is sat in the centre of the room. Despite the fresh summer air and bright beaming sun, the fire crackles loudly within the office the two of you found your way into. It isn’t uncomfortably hot nor does it seem out of place. The warmth is pleasant as is the smile you sport, reminding him of home.

“And a bit of Adepti magic,” you mutter as you sprawl out on the floor. The plush emerald green carpet swishes with your movement, comfortable looking. Ajax can’t help but want to sink to the ground with you, but he remains, opting to stand across the room, “I don’t think I could have pulled all this off by myself.”

Tearing his gaze away from you, Ajax inspects the photographs scattered along the wall, there's a collection from the city of freedom; Mondstadt, well worn and frayed around the edges but they’re still hung with pride, even some from Liyue with traces of him in the background. He felt out of place standing amongst your precious memories of people who helped guide you on your travels. Guilt bubbles up in his chest, he didn’t understand why you’d bring him here when all he ever seemed to do is bring trouble wherever he travels. The pictures which captured the time before, before he betrayed you before he dared to sink the city of contracts. There was no joy to be found in that memory and yet you asked him for assistance once more, a desperate plea for someone of his standing to help find you a way back to the faraway land you hailed from.

“You helped save not one but two great nations, I wouldn’t sell myself short if I were you, comrade.”

Your nose crinkled up at the word, “I saved one of them from you,” it's a joke, you’re making a joke but he doesn’t laugh. He shouldn’t laugh, it was a failed mission and reflected poorly on him. The other harbingers already looked down upon him and this was just another reason to shun him, “Though you are forgetting Inazuma so if anyone is selling me short, it’s you.”

His body seizes up, his shoulders and jaw tense.

Ajax often boasted how great he was, how skillful he was with a myriad of weapons, and how powerful he became once being given a vision but in all his time with you, he had not given you praise. At least, not one that didn’t in some way insinuating that you were still the slightest bit inferior to him. He wondered, did you take his words to heart? A part of him felt regret though he couldn’t help but be prideful of himself. There truly was no one in the world like he, still, Ajax valued your strength and company even if his manner of expression was odd.

“Thank you for inviting me in but I’m afraid I must be going now.”

“You’ve only just got here!” You frown, stumbling forward on your knees to get closer to him, “You can’t leave now,” your eyes grown round and wobbly as something, perhaps insecurity or doubt flashes amongst them, “You once told me if given the chance you’d walk away from the Fatui and travel across Tevyat with me so why now when I’ve offered you a place free of responsibility are you trying to leave.”

It all tumbles out faster than you intend for it to, slapping your hands over your mouth to bottle up any lingering words that might jump out.

Ajax runs his fingers through his hair, ruffling his copper locks, “When I said that stuff, well I forgot myself,” he says, his lips curling up with distaste, “I’m kind of a bad guy and you know this,” sighing, he shakes his head, “You don’t want my company, it’ll only slow you down.”

“If I cared about any of that, do you truly think I’d have tried to make a connection with you?”

Patting the floor beside you, you give Ajax your best pleading eyes so rather than run away, maybe he’d talk to you. So he sits, all arms and legs, lanky. His jacket opened even further to expose more of his stomach, his vision clinking against his belt. 

“I’ve never had friends before, not really.”

It’s true.

His fellow harbingers were his coworkers and nothing more, close relationships in his line of work were nonexistent. At fourteen he left home, he’d changed and no one wanted him. Friends weren’t hard to come by for someone like him.

“There's a first time for everything,” you say turning back to the fire, “And you have me and Zhongli, kind of, and Xinyan too.”

Ajax frowns, there’s something more he wants to say but he can’t. It’d be cruel, unnecessary so he lets it sit in his mind. He doesn’t have friends in the way you do, no one who’d have his back through thick and thin. Ajax doesn't expect you to be that for him, and he isn’t sure he wants you to.

“Maybe.”

He doesn’t want to just be your friend. 

The thought strikes him when he finds himself admiring the wistful look in your eyes. A friend didn’t admire their friends, or that’s what he thought, Ajax couldn’t be sure what friends were supposed to do with one another. It made him feel pathetic. He was in his twenties, the youngest person to ever become a harbinger, adept in all forms of battles sans the bow, he still needed to work on that, and yet he didn’t know what this thing between you and he was.

We’re friends supposed to want to kiss their friend?

“Don’t sell yourself short, there’s a lot to like once you get past the exterior,” you smile to yourself, twisting the fur of the rug between your fingers, “There’s a lot that I like.”

“There is?”

The admission draws him closer, like a magnet desperate to cling to the nearest surface. 

You nod your head, your bottom lip catching between your teeth, “Oh yeah, lots,” it doesn’t feel like a joke when you say it and his heart dares to jump in his chest, “For starters, you’re a good cook.”

“Oh yeah?”

You nod with a laugh.

“What else?” Ajax needs to hear more, he can’t live without hearing more praise from you, “Do you think I have dashing good looks? Or perhaps do you admire my exceptional battle stance?”

He regrets those words as soon as they leave him, but he’s lacking something, something that stopped him from making an ass out of himself in front of you.

With your finger pressed to your chin, you pretend to be lost in thought. His words don’t bother you nor does his demeanour, “Of course I do,” surprisingly, there’s no hint of sarcasm, “But actually, I was thinking that the things I like about you are far greater than the things that scare me about you.”

There’s a hint of bashful embarrassment behind your voice, coating your words and leaving you covered in a heat far more powerful than the dwindling fire before you. It doesn’t disappoint him though, it excites him, the knowledge that the good outweighs the bad, that you see him and not the masquerade of the man who presented himself to you so long ago.

“I don’t scare you?”

Ajax inches closer, strangely embolden to close the space he put between the two of you out of fear. It’s comfortable in the air between you, he isn’t afraid to breathe it in and share it. He never thought you were delicate, he knew you could handle yourself— you’d slain your fair share of dragons, he just wondered if he’d do something wrong. A stray comment could crush someone like a flower beneath the heavy sole of a foot. Ajax could be cruel even if he didn’t intend to. 

“No.”

He wants to laugh, his own parents could not handle him. Though, in his younger days fresh out of the Abyss, he’d admit he was a tad more unrestrained. Either way, Ajax has always been a handful, his lust for chaos and bloodshed not exactly the trademark for a hero or even a likeable man. If it wasn’t fear that his presence caused, it was discomfort, even disdain.

“Though, I suppose that those are my personal feelings blindsiding me.”

It catches him off guard, the notion that you harbour personal feelings for him, “Care to elaborate?”

That’s all he can muster up, a cool few words.

“Well,” you start, nervously picking at the, “I simply mean that I’m able to look past all the things you’ve done and see the person underneath.”

“And your feelings? They are…?”

“Childe-“

“Ajax,” he mutters, turning his head to the side, “My name is Ajax.”

With a slight nod you sputter, “Ajax, let’s not,” his true name on your lips is perhaps the most satisfying thing he’s ever experienced, “Let’s just enjoy each other’s company.”

He feels the need to push, prod, and poke until you break and ‘fess up to whatever it is you’re keeping from him. 

Ajax inches closer, his hands settling on either side of you. Dull blue eyes bore into yours, leaning in so close his breath fans across your face. He can smell the faint aroma of glaze lilies and apples. You’d taste of them, he’s sure of it, he caught you snacking on them just before you roped him into visiting your abode.

“I don’t think I can do that, not until you’re honest with me.”

Pressing your hand to his chest, you laugh, “You’re terrible,” it’s without malice though he notices how your breath catches ever so slightly, “Being so presumptuous and demanding when I wouldn’t dare to do the same.”

He raises a brow at you but doesn’t falter.

“I’ve taken notice,” you grit, “Of the way you stare when you think I’m paying no mind,” there's a moment of pause that overtakes you but you press your lips firmly in a line, “So let’s just forget feelings and complicated emotions and just enjoy a moment of peace.”

Something comes over him, a surge of adrenaline or maybe it was desperation; whatever it was, it filled him with the overwhelming need to kiss you. So he did, cupping your cheeks with a depraved fever, all the air in his lungs disappearing the moment your lips met his. They’re slightly chapped, warm as is the rest of your face, whether from your own flushed skin or the roaring fire dwindling away behind you. The small squeak you let out dies on your tongue, your tensed body melting into his grasp, your own two hands taking hold of his shoulders, twisting the fabric of his coat between your fingers. Ajax nearly collapses into you, inching himself as close as he possibly can to you.

Pulling away from him, your head hangs low between your two bodies. “Ajax,” you pant, furling his coat in your fists, “That is the exact opposite of what I said.”

“I want you.”

The admission is truthful, it weighed so heavily on his chest that just uttering those three words filled him with such relief. So, he said it again, mumbling against your lips and he desperately curled against you. Sighing into his mouth, you melted against him, your own desperation dwarfing whatever lingering apprehension you may have had. He wasn’t any ordinary member of the Fatui and you knew him well enough to know when he was being genuine. 

It felt immensely better to succumb to the calling of your heart than to deny yourself the wealth of bliss that lay ahead.

The fire crackles to life, growing so hot that the clothing you wear is unbearable. 

“Do you want me, too?” Ajax asks, his lips chapped and crackled, though slick with saliva, “Because, I’ve been thinking about this for so long … Dreaming of it.”

His eyes, however brilliant of a blue had always looked so pallid and devoid of life, blazed with something startling as he peered at you through his lashes. 

“I don’t think I could go on if this is all I could have of you.”

You suck in a sharp breath, your eyes flickering between his face and the carpet. His words sent butterflies fluttering amongst your rib cage, your stomach growing heavy and twisted as his gaze seared holes into your skin. Wisps of copper-coloured hair brush against your forehead, his breath hot on your face as he rests his head on yours.

“Shut up,” you mutter, tossing aside the caution you used as an excuse to push away whatever it is that you felt for him, “Shut up and kiss me, Ajax.”

Ajax laughed against your lips, his entire body practically vibrating with need and something scarily close to desire. He’s never desired much, not in the way one ought to and he’s never desired another person. The closest thing he could compare to such an overwhelming desire was his drive, it was so powerful it too often overshadowed his morals. Sometimes he wished he never felt any emotion like that but now, he didn’t. It only took a split second for him to press against you, his lips greedily claiming yours and his hands finding your body. 

And he kissed you for all the times he thought of kissing you, desperately praying to the Tsaritza and even Celestia that none of this was some sort of cruel mirage, that you were really there, your fingers toying with his hair, his name hot on your lips when he pressed his hands against your rib cage, giving your torso a small squeeze to remind him that you really were there.

“There anything else I can do for you?” He mutters against your mouth, nipping at your bottom lip when you chuckle, “Because I’d do anything for you.”

Your heart feels like it’s about to leap straight from your chest and splatter out onto the floor before you. The apples of your cheeks grew warm as blood blotted the surface of your skin– he was just so cute, it made you melt.

“You’re eager, I like that.”

Tightly gripping the lapel of his jacket you couldn’t stop the laughter that bubbled in your chest. 

“I prefer perfectionist.”

Ajax grins, a bit smug and you know he enjoys the way you playfully roll his eyes. It was true, he was a perfectionist. He could fight with just about any weapon you threw at him like he’d been using it for years and he was enough of a masochist to use a bow and arrow every day until he mastered it. You wondered what that might mean for you– if he’d be good– if he knew what he was doing. He had to have been because a pit had begun to form in your stomach and your breath grew laboured as his teeth grazed against the supple skin of your neck.

Plucking the Fatui mask off the side of his head you hum, “Gonna show me what that means?” you ask, a gasp cutting you off as he pulls your shirt off you.

“You’re beautiful,” is all he says, his mouth working down your body with a flurry of sloppy, open-mouthed kisses in tow. His teeth and bottom lip drag against the smooth expanse of your chest and down to your belly. The blunt edge of his teeth digs into the fat of your hip as he takes a playful bite, threading your fingers into his hair and you roughly tug them, “Ouch!”

“That’s what you get!” You chuckle, pouting down at him, “If I see teeth marks you’re gonna be in big trouble!”

Ajax rolls the waistband of your bottoms further down your hips and your thighs. You kick your legs out to aid in his undressing, chuckling to yourself at the garish display that unfolds before you as he slowly peels off your socks. The weight of his gaze on your near-naked body doesn’t feel as heavy as you thought it should. Your shoulders ease and the pinpricks of nerves that spark off your skin roll into waves of excitement.

Your adventures and escapades while thrilling had long since worn your spirit; the feel of his calloused hands and chapped lips on your body gave your spirit new life.

For too long you danced around the adoration you felt for Ajax, afraid of all the labyrinthine complexities that shrouded him like an endless smog. It might have been love, you realise this now that you’ve dove head first into the pool of desire that too often filled your thoughts. Ajax filled up your life in a similar way, slinking between the nooks and crannies, popping up when you least expected it. A Fatui Harbinger wasn’t much of a travelling companion, not by any conventional standards, they were much too busy to be anything more than a passing ship in the night. 

But even so, Ajax has always been a man of his word.

When he confessed to you that there was nothing more he longed for than to be your travelling companion, he did everything in his power to bring that wish to live. You had thought him foolish, said as much to his face and yet here the two of you were together in the one place you could call home in Teyvat. Years of late-night chatter and heated exchanges coming to fruition. It left your skin tingling, heat bubbling across the surface as you watched him take in the sight of you.

Now as he cups your cheeks, you’re starting to regret not allowing him entry into your sacred space sooner.

“Can I tell you how stunning you are, or are you going to pull my hair again?”

The cheeky smile he sports does little to disguise his flushed cheeks or the way his eyes remain widened and glued to your bare figure. 

“You can say it,” you say in a small, bashful voice.

“You are absolutely breathtaking.”

There’s adoration in his eyes, it pools so strongly in his irises that you have to turn away. Your skin burns pleasantly with want. But his raw emotion makes you shy.

“Thank you, Ajax,” you whisper, ducking your head down.

His calloused fingers graze your chin in an instant, tipping your head upward until your gaze meets his, “Can I touch you?” He murmurs with such sincerity it makes you whimper, “Please?”

“Yes,” you pant, your eyes lidded.

Ajax tentatively drags his other hand down the length of your spine before settling between your thighs. Gently, he strokes your pelvis, his fingers lost amongst the thatch of curls that leads him to your cunt. Your hips twitch eagerly as he brushes against your clit.

“There,” you whisper, “Touch me there, Ajax.”

He nods, his mouth slightly agape, a moan slipping out. Your sensitive sex can hardly handle how he circles his fingers around your clit even for a moment before he dips into your hole to collect some of your arousal on his digits.

You sigh lowly, digging your fingers into the meat of his muscular shoulders, your head daring to tip back. His thumb keeps your head firmly in place as he darts between watching your expression unfold upon your visage and your needy cunt. Your slick folds swallow up his hand as he languidly strokes you, taking note of what you seem to enjoy. Blood prickles around your nails. His freckled skin breaks and bleeds from your rough treatment but it makes Ajax moan even louder. You keen at his obscene sounds, your own mixing in. You can see his cock straining through his slacks, the grey fabric dampening.

“Please,” you whimper, pressing your bottom lip between your teeth, “Keep touching me like that … I’m going to-”

“Can I kiss you? I want to kiss you down there?” Ajax asks needily, his skin flushed a pinky hue and gleaming with sweat.

“Please, please, please.”

Your back is pressed flat against the floor before Ajax has settled between your thighs. His chapped lips leave balmy kisses between your breasts, down the expanse of your round tummy, and amongst your pubes. You shiver when his hot breath fans against your wet cunt, your clit twitching in anticipation. Your fingers find his way into his tousled locks with ease, the blunt edge of your nails scraping against his scalp as he drags his tongue through your folds.

“You taste like heaven,” he groans, wrapping his arms around your thighs, “I swear to you that I’m not exaggerating.”

A giggle bubbles up in your throat, “I already like you, there's no need to flatter,” you joke, drawing in a sharp breath when he sucks on your clit, “Archons above… Please do that again.”

Ajax obliges you, obedient like a dog but twice as loyal. Your pleasure is his sole focus as he lavishes your pussy with licks and kisses, his grip bruising but evidently filled with tender devotion. You come undone on his tongue with dizzying ease. Your head swirls and swims in search of purchase and reprieve but leaves you stranded as your vision spots. The only thing that keeps you grounded in reality is the burn of his skin on yours.

Your cunt gushes and wets your thighs, and his chin but Ajax doesn’t seem to mind. He’s too eager to have his lips on yours again. You taste yourself on him and it fills you with a turbulent pool of lava. His erection pressed against your pussy, eliciting a moan that you swallow.

“I want you inside of me.”

“Yeah?” Ajax preens into your mouth.

You nod your head before you’re able to form words, “Yes,” you pant, “Now.”

His belt clicks and clunks haphazardly as he rushes to undress himself. You watch with a small smile and laugh. His eagerness made your stomach flutter and your heart jump. Your rib cage rattled with each new summersault. You wondered if he could hear it. 

The sight of his flushed, dripping cock makes your cunt clench and twitch with need. A sharp breath passes between the two of you as he drags the fat, engorged head between your folds to gather your arousal. The wooden floorboards creak as you claw at them, your chest heaving with haggard breaths.

“I’ll go slow,” Ajax promises, tenderly caressing your cheek.

A muffled noise of agreement passes through you and reaches his ears, but in all honesty you didn’t much mind if he didn’t.

His cock stretches you out deliciously, slowly filling you to the brim. Ajax braces himself on the ground, his arms caging you in. Your hands wrap around his wrists, your thumbs pressing against this pulse point. His blood pumps erratically through his veins. Your heart matches his and that thrills you to no end.

Ajax presses his forehead against yours when he’s fully sheathed inside of you, his chest flush with yours.

“Are you okay, Ajax?”

He hums, his chest rumbling, “Yes,” he whispers, his nose brushing against yours, “But if I move … I’ll finish.”

He doesn't want to finish.

Something about that pleases you.

“It’s okay,” you assure, “It’s okay if you do because we can do this again.”

“Yeah?”

His hips rock into yours, his cock slowly rubbing against your snug, slick walls. The head of his cock stretches out your entrance before Ajax slides him back inside of you. Your breath trembles and you shake with need. You can feel him twitching inside of you. 

“Yeah.”

Ajax nuzzles his nose into the side of your neck, his sweat damp hair tickling your cheek, “Fuck, I love you.”

Ajax’s hips stutter as he thrusts languidly into you, his pace inconsistent as he contemplates savouring you and indulging in his own ravenous appetite. 

“I love you too,” tears prickle at your eyes as you’re overcome with emotion.

Warmth spreads throughout your cunt as he spills his spend in you with a final thrust. Throwing your hands over his shoulders, you burrow your face into his shoulder, hiding away your expression. You’re sure he can feel it pressed against his skin but you placate yourself with the knowledge that he can’t see you unravel before him. Though, you wet him with your tears that spill past your lash line.

Your heart pangs, with sadness, with adoration, with contentment. The current sweeps you up, your consciousness lost amongst your emotions. You loved him. You well and truly loved him, Ajax. Not even his status as a Harbinger could change that. And, you weren’t sure you wanted it to.

© all content belongs to dearbraus. do not modify, repost, or redistribute.

networks: @interstellar-inn @houseofsolisoccasum

[felassan]

What's all this about Solas speaking in iambic pentameter? English isn't my first language so I never noticed anything odd about the way he talks, but your blog is the first time I've seen it mentioned by anyone

hello! ◕‿◕ Solas sometimes speaks in a specific pattern or rhythm. It sometimes gets described as or compared by people to iambic pentameter. (which is a type of rhythm common in traditional English poetry. Shakespeare used it in his sonnets and plays.) Though, I'm not sure that it's actually literally that or always that. The main point is that at those times, he's speaking particularly poetically, with a specific poetic rhythm in his speech. (Like where the stress on syllables is and the 'beats' in his speech.) Occasionally, the Inquisitor's dialogue line[s] in response to him are the same.

When Trick Weekes wrote Solas in DA:I, they wrote some of his key scenes to KD Lang's cover of the song Hallelujah on a loop. They talked about some of their process and the reasons for the use of this technique in terms of Solas' characterization in this DA:I-era blog post:

Trick Weekes: "When Solas talks about things that he saw in the Fade, things that speak to a distant past, I needed him to sound ever so slightly otherworldly and wistful – someone remembering a dream with a sense of both sadness and inevitability. If you follow [that link] and look at some of Solas’s lines, you may notice a familiar rhythm come out. It would have been forcing it to give lines the same rhyme scheme, but giving the words the meter captured some of that wistfulness and made Solas sound ever so slightly otherworldly. (In the rare cases the player got into the same rhythm, there was always an approval bump from Solas. For that brief period, it was like the player was thinking like he did.) I used this a few times over the game, and I love what it did to his voice. Also, Cori (who edited Solas) is exceedingly kind for putting up with my request that changes to those lines keep this surreptitious rhythm."

[source]

An example of when it happens in DA:I is:

"I've journeyed deep into the Fade // in ancient ruins and battlefields // to see the dreams of lost civilizations. I've watched as hosts of spirits clash // to reenact the bloody past // in ancient wars both famous and forgotten. Every great war // has its heroes. // I'm just curious // what kind you'll be."

Compare this with the song's lyrics:

"I heard there was a secret chord // That David played, and it pleased the Lord // You don't really care for music, do ya? Well it goes like this: The fourth, the fifth // The minor fall, the major lift // The baffled king composing Hallelujah Hallelujah // Hallelujah // Hallelujah // Hallelujah"

An example from Trespasser is:

"I lay in dark and dreaming sleep [I heard there was a secret chord] while countless wars and ages passed [That David played, and it pleased the Lord] I woke still weak a year before I joined you. [You don't really care for music, do ya?]" etc.

Recent mentions of this are:

Q. Will Solas still occasionally or dramatically speak in iambic pentameter? A. “Massive kudos to Patrick, who always writes Solas so well. Again, Solas is a returning character. It’s the same Solas you know and love (or hate depending on who you are). The same writer. So I think the answer is yeah, it’s Solas.” – John Epler

[source: BioWare dev Discord Q&A on June 14th]

User: "you really went off with solas. but the iambic pentameter makes writing fanfic dialogue for him so treacherous..." Trick Weekes: "It doesn't always have to be in the cadence! Just when he's deeply feeling The Old Days! He's written in standard prose 99% of the time!"

[source]

I think he does it a bit in the gameplay reveal video [Veil ripping scene with Varric] too. hope this helps :>

[msg refs this post]

[For the developer Q&A from June 14th on Discord: Notes are here, re-watch link is here]

[loving-barnes]

LOGAN HOWLETT - BEGIN AGAIN

A/N: And here I am, once again. With another one-shot. Well... not a one-shot. This is chapter one of a series with Logan. More on that later.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x mutant female reader

Warning: none

Summary: After a failed mission, Logan unexpectedly brings home an injured mutant.

Please, do not read if you are under 18. This story includes mentions of abuse.

Words: 5300+

Important note: Again, Logan is a tall MF, because they fucked up in the movies. Also, Hugh Jackman!Wolverine.

A TOUCH OF HOPE MASTERLIST

LOGAN HOWLETT - BEGIN AGAIN

Logan’s mission was a failure, a trap. He was glad he got away before he could end up in a cage, locked forever. It was supposed to be easy. An in-and-out mission with a mutant child. Fuck no. He was met with a bunch of soldiers, ready to kill him. And, there was no child. He quickly learned that it was a set-up. The child that Charles had found got moved away from that facility. 

On his way back to the school, he found a place to get a drink. The moon was up in the sky, illuminating the night world. The air got colder. He still had a long road home. One little detour to a bar wouldn’t hurt anybody, right? A drink would lift his spirits.

He parked a stolen motorbike in front of a dive bar. Drink or two to get his mindset straight, and then he would head back to the school. 

The place smelled like a hellhole - urine, spilt alcohol and cigars. It was a perfect place to hide a corpse. By the smell, he wondered if there wasn’t a rotten body under the floor. He sat at the bar, ordered a beer and minded his business. He could hear everything with his enhanced hearing - even a pin drop. 

Whistles came from behind his back when he was on his second beer. That could only mean one thing - a woman entered this hellhole. Probably a hooker, he thought. 

“Hey baby, are you lost?” he heard someone’s sleazy voice. 

“Now that’s what I call entertainment for tonight!” another man shouted. Some even made howling sounds. 

Logan gently turned his head to the side, ready to see an old hag or a trashy whore. What he found was a young woman approaching the bar. She had torn old clothes on her, covered in dirt and dust. He wouldn’t stare at her if it weren’t for the bruises and scratches on her face and hands. He frowned. What the fuck happened to her? 

She took a seat two seats to his left side. The corner of his eyes captured three scumbags approaching her as if she was their prey. Logan gripped his beer bottle tighter, his knuckles becoming white. 

“Baby, let’s have some fun,” one guy touched the woman’s shoulder, making her face them. 

“Leave me alone,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. 

“Come on, sugar, don’t be a prude,” another man touched her cheeks, mapping the wounds on her face. “Somebody had their turn. Now, we want to have some fun. Huh?” 

It was Logan’s cue to step in. He was fast enough to take the man’s hand off the woman. He gripped it tightly with his, twisting it. “Leave her alone, dipshit. I’m not gonna say it twice.” 

“Get your paw off me, dude,” the man growled. He couldn’t get away from Logan’s hold. His friends got his back, ready to beat Logan’s ass. “And leave before the we will teach you a lesson.”

The woman’s breathing sped up, distressed from everything that was happening. “Stop, please,” she said to all of them. But she was cornered at the bar by one of the guys. There was nowhere to escape.

Logan smiled at the bastards. “I’d like to see you try.” 

His adamantium claws slid out and penetrated the man’s skin on his arm, almost cutting off the limb. He screamed from the pain, blood spurting everywhere. Then was kicked in the gut. 

One of the men grabbed the woman’s shoulder, pushing her to him. A knife appeared under her throat. He wanted to get away with her. “No, please,” she gasped as she felt the man’s other hand wrapped around her torso, holding her against her will. She was tired, beaten and ready to give up. 

“Shh, darlin’, it’ll be over soon. We’ll have some fun. Be a good girl and come with me.” 

Logan’s eyes found the woman visibly disgusted and afraid. As he was about to finish the second guy, the woman pushed the bastard off her. 

“No,” she screamed. And with that painful sound, some force escaped her body, knocking down everyone around her, even Logan. He flew through the bar and smashed into a wall like the rest of the people. Glasses and bottles shattered around the place. 

Logan grunted, surprised by what happened. Slowly, he got on his feet. His eyes found the woman again, standing at the same spot, alone. Her body was shaking. It seemed she was on the verge of crying. 

Grunting, he stood up and walked to her. She pressed herself against the bar. “No, please.”

“Don’t worry,” his voice was softer than before. “I ain’t gonna hurt ya, kid.” 

She took a step back, shaking her head. She didn’t believe a word he said. No wonder. 

Fuck this night! Then and there, he knew he had to take her with him. At least he wouldn’t come empty-handed. 

“We are the same,” he tried again, slowly reaching for her. “I can take you to a safe place. There are people like us who can help you.” 

His eyes scanned the woman’s face. He knew only two options could have happened: A) She got beaten up by her significant other. B) She escaped some sick fuckers who experimented on her. 

People around were getting on their feet, shaking off the dizziness. They were processing what happened. Some of them were able to put two and two together - mutants.

“Come before they try to kill us both,” Logan tried her again. “Take my hand. I ain’t gonna hurt ya.”

“Fucking mutants!” someone shouted. “Kill them! Kill them both!”

This time, the woman didn’t hesitate and grabbed Logan’s hand. What choice did she have? He led her out of the bar before the first gunshots started. He got to his bike and sat on it. “Quick, hop behind me.” 

At least seven men ran out of the bar with shotguns and pistols, shooting at them. One of the bullets hit Logan’s shoulder. He snarled from the pain. He started the bike before more shots could get to him or the woman. 

When he felt her body against his back, he started the engine. “Hold me tight,” he shouted at her. 

The woman grabbed him by the waist, gripping him tightly. The gunshots weren’t stopping. A few of them swished near their heads. Her heart beat fast. She gave her life to some stranger. The last time that happened, they tortured her. 

One of her hands let go of the man’s and turned her weak body to the side. One more time, the power escaped her hand, and she protected them from the bullets that kept flying around. Again, a veil of some energy surrounded them. Under the moonlight, it seemed silvery and light blue.  Bullets got absorbed into the shield. 

It lasted only a few seconds, and then the energy disappeared. The shooting stopped. Logan got them far away from that hellhole. Now, it was just the two of them on the bike driving away. 

“You okay?” he asked, shouting through the wind. 

He then felt her other arm sneak around his waist to hold onto him. The rest of her body leaned against his back. He heard a deep exhale and a soft “yeah”. 

He couldn’t believe anything that happened today - first, a failed mission that almost got him captured. Now, a woman on his bike, whom he saved from pervs. Plot twist - she was a mutant with an ability he had never seen before. 

And he didn’t know her name. 

Logan registered that her body got heavier, and the grip on his waist loosened. “Shit,” he cursed and slowed down, bringing the vehicle to a stop. He moved fast, doing his best to capture her body before she could fall. 

“Hey,” he shook her a little as he took her into his arms. “Come on, kid, I need you to come back and look at me.”

Unknowingly, he brushed her cheek with his thick fingers. Damn, she was pretty. That’s when she opened her eyes slowly, staring into his. “I’m sorry,” was all she said. 

“That’s okay, kid. Can you hold on a little longer? We are two and a half hours away from a safe place.” 

She took a deep breath. “Please, just kill me and don’t make me suffer.” 

Logan frowned. He got an answer he wondered. Option B was the correct one. “What? No, not happening, bub. I won’t harm ya. I promise you that.”

“I’ve heard that before.” 

“I get it, kid. I get you have no reason to believe me. Just this once, trust me.” 

He helped her to her feet, holding her tight in case she’d lost balance. Her eyes found his. Tears were sparkling inside of them. “Okay,” she whispered. 

“Good girl,” he praised her gently and helped her get on the bike behind him. “If you need anything, tell me and I’ll stop. Keep your eyes open.”

I should have stolen a car, he thought. But at least they were on their way to Charles Xavier’s school for gifted youngsters. 

They entered the school’s estate. From afar, they could see the lights coming from the building. The woman exhaled, and her hands again lost their grip. This time, she fell from the bike onto the hard ground. It was so quick that he didn’t have time to notice she was slipping off him. “Shit!” Logan cursed and brought the bike to a halt, jumping off it. 

He ran to the woman, kneeling next to her. First, he checked her up, just to be sure she wasn’t dead. “Hey, hey,” he tapped her face, trying to wake her. Nothing happened. His fingers managed to find a pulse. Fortunately, it was there. “Storm! Charles!” he shouted from the top of his lungs. “Anyone!” 

Logan grabbed her body, holding her under the knees and back. He started to walk to the school. One of her arms was hanging in the air. 

The main entrance door opened. Several people ran outside. Storm was the first one out, followed by Beast and Bobby. They were all dressed in sleep outfits. Their sleep was interrupted by the unexpected turn of events. It was two in the morning. 

“Holy shit,” Bobby commented when he noticed the woman in Logan’s arms. 

“Oh my god! What happened?” Storm questioned. 

Together, they walked inside the mansion and headed to the lower grounds where they had their infirmary. It was hard to be silent. When they walked inside, Logan put the woman on an examination table. 

“Damn,” Scott commented. 

Jean was already there, prepping the tools. When she approached the woman, she gasped. “What the hell happened to her?” Storm helped as much as she could. Hank approached the table as well.

Logan was visibly pissed. His chest was heaving, and he wanted to punch a wall. “Where the fuck is Charles?” he asked loudly. “Fucking mission, fucking night!” 

“Who did this to her?” Storm asked, her hands gently brushing the woman’s bruised face. It played with colours, spreading from one side to the other. Her fingers brushed against the scratches. “What’s her name?” 

Logan huffed. “Don’t know. There wasn’t a lot of opportunity to chit-chat when scumbags were shooting at us,” he explained to them. “All I know is she’s a mutant. She protected our asses. That’s why I brought her here.” 

“Vitals are stable. There is no internal bleeding.” Jean informed them once she checked the first data that she got. “Hm,” a sound escaped her throat. “We need to scan her body to see if she has anything broken.”

“Logan had to get a child, and he comes back with a woman,” Scott commented not so silently. 

“Scott,” Ororo glared at him. “He saved her life.” 

“You’re such a dick, Summers,” Logan frowned at him. 

“It’s good you brought her here, Logan,” Hank joined the conversation. 

“She was about to become a toy for some fuckers who can’t keep their dick in their pants,” Logan said. “And then she showed me what’s in her. I’ve seen a lot of shit throughout my life. Honestly, I’ve never seen this kind of mutation.”

“What did she do?” Hank asked. Everyone wanted to know more. 

The Wolverine grunted and shook his head. “Dunno how to describe it. Some force got out of her that threw us all away from her. It was powerful, it stung like a bitch. It looked like a veil of energy. When she used it again, it absorbed all the bullets fired at us.” 

“Flyrokinesis?” Jean questioned. 

“It’s a possibility,” Hank nodded. “But I’d need to see it. Or it could be Flyrogenesis.” 

“Or both,” Jean added.

“Defensive mutations are rare,” Storm chimed in. “It’s been decades since we got any information about a mutant like this.”

“Until we know more, we can only speculate,” Hank ended the discussion. 

“Let’s give her some rest,” Jean turned to the screens. “She’ll be out for a while, and we all need to rest. We’ll know more tomorrow.” 

They left the infirmary one by one and headed back to their rooms. The last two people who remained were Storm and Logan. Both of them stayed by the unconscious woman. “I cannot believe someone did this to her,” she said. 

“I think she escaped some lab,” said Logan. “When she was conscious, she didn’t believe I wanted to take her to a safe place. She wanted me to kill her.”

“It’s a good thing you brought her here, Logan,” Storm patted his shoulder. 

Logan’s eyes kept travelling around the woman’s face, taking in her hair and their colour. “For now, we can only guess what happened. But, fuck, she looked like she escaped hell.” 

. . .

White light, so bright it hurt her eyes. It was painful to open her eyes. She slowly got used to it by rapid blinking. The white turned into silver, then steel-blue, until the first outlines appeared. Her ears registered a steady beeping sound. Where the hell was she? What happened? What was this palace? Panic started to rise inside her chest. Her body started to shiver.

There was a man who promised to take her to a safe place. How could she trust a stranger?

Fuck, it was hard to breathe. The beeping sound fastened. She ended up locked somewhere. Again. It was another lab - she was sure of it. 

A woman’s face appeared above her. She had short white hair and a smile on her face. Weird. “It’s okay, you are safe,” were the first words she heard. “Calm your breathing. You are in distress.”

“W-what-”

“You are safe now. No one is going to hurt you here,” the woman had a soothing voice. 

“W-where am I?” she whispered with fear. Her whole body was shaking. Tears threatened to escape her eyes.

“You are in a school for mutants,” she explained. 

“School?” 

“Yes, school. It is not a lab or some kind of crazy facility. We have children here who are like us, special.” 

A school for mutants, she repeated inside her head. New emotion came to her face - confusion. “I don’t understand. W-who are you?” 

“My name is Ororo Munroe,” she introduced herself. “But they also call me Storm.” 

She tilted her head to the side. “Storm?” 

“I have weather-manipulating abilities,” she said with a smile. “What’s your name?” 

 She took a deep breath. “My name is Y/N Y/L/N,” she introduced herself, eyes never leaving Ororo’s dark ones. Y/N sat up carefully. 

It had to be a lab. There were monitors and displays with data. Her eyes lowered to her hands, and she saw an IV on top of her hand. Y/N realised her hands were not tied up. Was Storm telling the truth? 

“How are you feeling, Y/N? Do you need anything?” 

“Uh,” she tried to find the right words. “I’m tired, my whole body hurts, and I am confused.” 

“Give it a moment. It will all click together. I can promise you that,” said Storm. 

The door to the infirmary opened. An older man wheeled in on a modified wheelchair. Y/N’s eyes followed his every move. He was bald but dressed in a fancy suit. He had a gentle smile on his lips. 

“Y/N,” he said her name. 

She frowned, not expecting anyone to know her. It was alarming. “How do you know my name?” 

“Y/N, this is Professor Charles Xavier. He’s like us, a mutant. He has an all-powerful brain thanks to his telepathic powers,” Storm introduced the man to her. “He’s the headmaster of the school.” 

He approached the woman, gently touching her hand. “I am so sorry for your suffering, but please know you are safe here.” 

“Don’t…” she raised her hand. “Please, don’t read my mind.” 

“I’m sorry, my dear, I didn’t want to pry. It’s just that your thoughts were screaming so loud, it was impossible not to hear them,” Charles explained to her. “I will not talk about it. It is up to you to share your story.” 

Her shoulders dropped, and she relaxed. “Thank you.” 

“Now, let me tell you about this place,” he wheeled a bit farther away from her, observing the room as if he were there for the first time. “In this school, we not only teach children and help them learn their mutations, but we also accept fugitives and help them learn.” 

She tilted her head, wincing in pain. “Are you offering me a place to stay?” her voice was softer than before. 

“That is if you want to,” Charles nodded. 

It came as a shock. Tears appeared in her eyes. “I don’t have to run anymore?” she asked timidly.

“No, Y/N,” he smiled. “You are safe here, with us.” Charles wheeled back to the door, obviously pleased. “Welcome to the X-Mansion. If you need anything, come see me in my office.” And then he was gone. 

Y/N turned her head to Ororo, wiping off the tears that gathered in her eyes. It was all surreal. “I was expecting many things to happen, but not this.” And then, “Wait, but I have nothing. No money, no clothes. I can’t afford to stay here. I can’t give you anything.” 

Ororo stopped her. “Don’t worry about it. First, you need to get better. You still have bruises and wounds around your body that need to heal.”

Y/N’s hands shot up to her face, fingers grazing over scratches. Then, under her fingertips, she felt a bruise under her eye that hurt a little. Her eyes were looking for a mirror or a reflection. She needed to see the damage. Her mind wandered into her memories, looking back at what happened. For now, it was all a mush. Everything that had happened overlapped. She pressed fingers to her temple, massaging them. 

“You okay?” Ororo’s hand appeared on her shoulder. 

Y/N nodded. “Yeah, just a mild headache.” 

Half an hour later, she met more people - Dr. Jean Grey, who ran more tests on her. She X-rayed Y/N’s entire body just to be sure there was nothing broken. Later, she did a scan to see if there was any indication that would capture Y/N’s mutant power. 

When Y/N met Hank, she got scared. She never saw a mutant who looked like that - a blue ball of fur and monster claws. No, he was not a monster. He looked like a beast. “I’m sorry,” she quickly apologised. 

Hank was with Jean, looking at scans they made together. “Do you see that?” he asked, his thick blue finger pointing at the blue hue floating inside her body. “Have you seen anything like that before?” 

“No,” she said. “But it’s nothing, to be honest. It barely showed in the scan. It might not even mean anything.” 

“Or it can be everything,” Hank looked at Jean. “But I agree, so far we have nothing. She’ll be healthy in no time. But, we need to know what she can do.” 

After the tests, Ororo brought her a bathrobe and took her upstairs. It was a perfect time to walk around the mansion. All the kids were in their classes or outside, and no one was around. 

Y/N’s eyes wandered around the place. She couldn’t take in how massive the institute was. It carried the history and memories of so many people. Overall, in one word, this place was magnificent. “This is amazing,” she whispered. 

Ororo’s hands held her shoulder as they walked to the highest floor in the mansion. She opened one of the many doors. They belonged to a bedroom. “Is this yours?” Y/N asked. 

“No,” Storm closed the door. “This will be your room, Y/N. You have a bathroom here,” she pointed at the door beside the bed. “And a closet.”

“I thought that this was your room. It’s too nice.” 

Storm laughed. “I have my room on a different level. Here’s how it works: The students share bedrooms. The youngest are in groups of three to four. The older two to three. Adults like privacy, so they have a room for themselves.” 

Y/N nodded, understanding what she was saying. “Thank you.” 

After Storm gave Y/N instructions, she was left alone in the bedroom. She had to sit down on a bed to take it all in. They gave her a bed, hot water, and so much more. It seemed surreal. What if this was all a dream? She sat in silence, waiting for someone to wake her up with torture.

Five minutes passed, then ten and fifteen. Nothing happened. Maybe it was real. Y/N pinched herself, and it hurt. It is real. She went into the bathroom and took a shower. Everything was there - towels, soaps, shampoos. 

Surreal. 

Clothes were resting on her bed when she came out of the bathroom, wrapped in fluffy towels. There were jeans, socks, underwear, bras, t-shirts, sweaters, hell even shoes. There were only a few pieces from each item. Y/N pressed her fingers to her temples. She wanted to cry. How is it possible that her life turned upside down in less than a day? 

Once fully dressed, she opened the door and peeked into the hallway. No one was present. She walked outside, clean and fresh, ready to explore the place more. Her walk was careful and slow. Her fingertips touched everything she could reach - the wooden walls, the statues and the paintings. Her eyes were travelling around the place, taking it all in. 

What was fascinating was the portraits of Oscar Wilde, Jane Austen and other novelists. It brought her memories of when she would read books in her bedroom.

“You alright, kid?” 

That voice was familiar. It made Y/N turn her eyes to see a well-built man with unusual facial hair. She couldn’t deny he was handsome. She had to blink a few times. This man was the guy who got her here. As she observed him, the white tank top with a black flannel shirt over it, she tilted her head to the side. Damn.

“Yeah,” she said. 

“I’m glad to hear that,” he took a few steps closer to her. 

“You are the guy who brought me here,” she pointed a finger at him but quickly retracted it. “I’m sorry,” she shook her head. “I remember so little from that day.” 

“Well, tough night.”

There was a flash of memory from that night. His face, looking down at her, lips moving and saying something that she couldn’t quite comprehend. “Sorry for ruining your evening.” 

He chuckled. “You just happened to be in the right place at the right time.” 

She opened her mouth but then closed it. She didn’t know what to say. The man talked instead. “What’s your name, kid?” 

“Y/N,” she introduced herself.

“Logan.”

“Logan,” she whispered his name. “Nice to meet you. And thank you for saving my ass.”

He only nodded. “I should get goin’. I have a class to teach,” he said. 

She crossed her arms akimbo. “You teach? Here? In this school?” 

“What, is it that hard to believe?” he chuckled. 

“Actually, yeah. You don’t look like the guy who wants to teach kids,” she commented. “What do you teach?” 

“History and combat training.” 

Y/N opened her mouth but then made a face, perplexed. “Combat training?” Why would they teach combat training in a school? And then it hit her, to defend themselves if necessary. 

Logan walked past her, heading to the stairs. “I guess I’ll see you around.” 

She gave him a simple nod, and then he was gone. Y/N’s eyes had trouble pulling away from the spot she saw him. This Logan guy was a handsome man with a rough exterior. 

She continued walking through the long hallway until she found another set of stairs that she took to a lower level. She must have been walking like this for another thirty minutes until she came down to the entrance hallway. This place was indeed huge. 

She kept turning, trying to figure out which way to go next. A school bell started to ring. Another lesson was over. The doors opened, and kids of all ages walked out. There were so many of them. And they were all happy. They weren’t lying. This building was filled with them - from the youngest kids to teenagers. 

A paper plane flew before her eyes, steadily floating in the air. A boy used his ability to make them fly. Magical. 

Her eyes captured Storm walking with another man, chatting. It was probably another teacher. Y/N decided to wait for Storm and ask about the place some more until someone shouted: “Watch out!” 

Y/N spun on her heel. Her breath got lost when she found a fireball heading straight to her. Her hands immediately went up in the air. To protect herself, a veil of blue hue covered her whole being. It was a forcefield, and it absorbed the fireball. Y/N could feel the energy in her palms.

Why would anyone throw a fireball? That scared the shit out of her. The veil disappeared once the danger was gone, and her hands fell to her body. She took a few deep breaths. Her eyes caught a boy staring at her with big eyes. Was it him who did it? Impressive. 

“Did you see that?” 

“Who is she?” 

“What kind of power is that?” 

The students saw it all. They whispered about it while staring right at her. There were many of them looking and talking. The voices rang in her head. Just calm down, Y/N, she told herself. They are just kids. 

Storm’s eyes were wide and sparkling with excitement. She was fast enough to run to her. “Forcefield,” she exclaimed. 

Y/N twisted and turned on the spot, looking at everyone. All eyes were on her. It made her feel vulnerable. Her eyes caught Logan standing at the stairs, observing. She couldn’t read his face. 

“Everyone back to your classes,” Logan ordered the students. 

“Amazing,” Storm commented. “We were wondering what your power was.” 

Y/N’s eyes widen. She’d never heard someone say that to her. Creep! A woman’s voice screamed inside her head. Murderer! Psychotic bitch! She wrapped her hands around herself, taking a step back. It all came back again. 

“Hey, hey,” Storm put her hands on her shoulders. “You don’t have to hide here. We are all the same. The students were surprised by your ability.” 

Come to my office, Y/N, she heard in her head. She spun on her heel to look around, trying to find the source of the voice. 

“I think I heard the… the Professor,” she said.

“He’s in his office. That way,” Storm turned Y/N to the right side. There was a hallway leading to a big wooden door. 

Y/N managed to catch Logan’s eyes looking at her before he left. He was something else - that’s how she could describe it. 

Hesitantly, she walked over to the door, ready to knock, when she heard the Professor telling her to come in. As said, she opened the door and walked inside. She was met with the older bald man, still wearing fancy clothes. 

“Take a seat.” 

Y/N sat on a brown leather armchair. The place smelled like wood and books. There were lots of them. The armchair was comfortable. Her back was straight, and her body was stiff, always ready to run if necessary. 

“I would like to know more about your mutation,” he wheeled closer to her. 

“What do you want to know?” 

He smiled. “Anything you’d like to share with me. I know I can look, but I don’t want to pry.” When he saw the distrustful look, he chose different words. “The more we know about your power, the better we can train you. We can give you more information about your mutation.”

“How can I know you won’t use it against me?” 

Charles nodded. “You don’t. We will need to build the trust together.” 

“Before I answer you,” she took a deep breath. There were some questions, and she needed answers. “What exactly do you do here?” 

The man sighed. “What you see is true - this is a school. There was an idea it would become a mixed school for mutants and humans. That never came to life. Now, it is a safe place for mutant kids, disapproved by the regular society. I find children around the States, and we bring them here - if they want to. Occasionally, we give adults a place to stay, like we did for you.” 

It was sincere. Charles wasn’t lying. She could feel it. “This ability showed when I was around 15. I know that it can protect me when I am in danger. I can sense the energy in my hands when I let it out. I can’t protect another person if you are wondering.”

“But…” he goaded. 

“I killed with this burst of energy. I hurt people with it. I believe you saw it, didn’t you?” 

Charles nodded. “Yes, I did. You can create a protective force field that keeps you out of danger. For example, what happened minutes ago, the fireball one of the students accidentally threw at you.”

She frowned at him, not liking what he was saying. “Then why did I kill with it?”

“There is an explanation to it. From what I saw-” 

“When I asked you not to look,” she cut his speech. 

“I apologise, Y/N. It is not my intention to hurt you or be nosy. As I already told you, your thoughts and memories were screaming, mixing inside your head. The door was open, and I only peeked in.” 

She closed her eyes, taking a few deep breaths to calm down. “You saw it all?” 

“No,” he shook his head. “But enough to have a picture. As I said, it is your story to tell, Y/N.” 

“What you saw?” 

“The day you used your power for the first time.”

It was a moment, a three-second glimpse into her past, but she was back in her child's room, messing with her then-boyfriend. And then, they were arguing when it happened. The force that escaped her body killed the boy and destroyed half the house she once lived in. 

“If we want to know more, we must see what you can do. Flyrokinesis is the ability to create and manipulate force fields. It is mostly defensive. However, there can be some offensive moves done with it. This mutation is exceptional.” 

She cocked a brow, not sold on it. 

“We can help you learn and work with your ability. That is if you want.” 

No one is forcing you to stay, Y/N. The choice is up to you. His voice was in her head again. 

No more running, no more experiments or killing. Y/N could choose her life. Out of everything that had happened in her life, this, so far, seemed like the best thing that could have happened to her. Fucking trust issues. 

“We have everything you need and more,” Charles wasn’t using his telekinesis. “You don’t have to worry about anything.” There was a smile playing on his lips. “No more running.”

“No more running,” she repeated. 

[schoenpepper]

Isekai'd Chronicles 5

Intro: Pomefiore in an isekai AU.

Warnings: bad writing, awful grammar, proofread by quillbot, Rook Hunt is a warning in his own right, some bullying, a duel, google translated French

A/N: The thought of elf Vil makes me want to do things. Cry, maybe. Thoughts on Neige in this AU: he's just a random pretty human celebrity that people are saying is prettier than even the elves (who are known to be hot af). Anyway, enjoy!

Masterlist

It's a really big deal when you have the future ruler of the elves standing in front of you, especially when said elf has blond hair and purple eyes and ungodly beauty. You knew your new friend Epel was going to bring about chaos, but you just had to befriend him anyway and let him hide out in your room in an act of (stupidity) kindness. Thus, you carved your fate in stone and you really only have yourself to blame when Vil Schoenheit is glaring at you and the elf that so courageously jumped out to defend you.

This is not what a smart 'reincarnated into a villain' would do, you know? You should be avoiding them, so why is it that you seem to be a magnet for trouble? This one's definitely on you, though.

He seems mildly impressed that you have the guts to actually stand up to him, and he invites you to Epel's etiquette lessons hoping that perhaps the purple haired elf would calm his rebel spirit when the lessons are happening with a friend. You accept stupidly because Epel's puppy dog eyes are very hard to say no to, plus, Vil's regal aura did not seem like he would even take no for an answer. It's not too bad, you tell yourself, especially since elf etiquette isn't too different from the kind you'd needed to learn from childhood. It also started from beginner level basics, because apparently, Epel was born in a part of the elven forest where there were no nobles at all.

Vil isn't a bad teacher, by any means. In fact, he feels more like a caring mother hen when he fusses over your clothing and teaches you about proper skin, hair, nail and everything else care. He gives you tons of homemade products and serums and cosmetics, and you smell like a bouquet of flowers by the time you're done with the routine he'd set up for you. Time spent with him is soothing almost, and you eventually find yourself spending time with him even without Epel, outside of etiquette lessons. He goes out shopping for clothes with you as he teaches you about elf fashion, and you talk to him about human celebrity scandals that you'd seen in magazines. He lets you try makeup on his perfect face when he has nowhere to be, and you concoct healthy meals in the kitchen with him to try to make delicious food that still passes his caloric and nutrient standards.

Vil won't kill you. He's above that, you're sure. Then that's another capture target down.

There's just no way you can keep your eyes off Vil, you know? He's ethereal, too beautiful to be human. Because he's not, he's an elf. Lilac eyes meet your own in confusion when you hand over the small bouquet of lilacs to him.

"What is this for, potato?" You give him a proud smile and answer. "My lilac flowers bloomed, senpai. I planted them a while ago, but this is the first time they've had such pretty blooms. They reminded me of the color of your eyes, so I thought I'd give you some!"

There's amusement and...something else that's lingering in his irises, but you can't quite put a finger on it. He takes the bouquet. "I must thank you, then. These are lovely."

Some people have gotten on your nerves recently. You know who they are, they don't hide their snickers when they pull their stupid childish pranks. But they hide it well in public even when you know they mock you for 'sucking up to everyone', but you're not a suck up! They're your friends! In any case, you're also a duke's heir, so they definitely have a lot of guts to be picking on you. If you were any more cruel, you'd sic Floyd or Jade on them (or Floyd and Jade if you were feeling particularly sadistic), but you decide to call them out instead and challenge their dumb leader to a duel. So there you were, sword against the other person's neck and they use magic and that's not in the rules! Right before the flames catch onto your hair, an arrow whizzes past your ear (the PTSD from your childhood has you frozen in place) and grazes your enemy's arm. It wounds him but he's not going to die, so you call out to the referee and the duel is your win!

You still tell Floyd afterwards because you were pissed the guy had the audacity to cheat.

When you look up past the ring, you see another blond elf, this time with a bob cut and clear green eyes the color of peppermint leaves. Your savior tips his hat to you as he puts his bow away with a smile on his face.

Your savior is Rook Hunt, Prince Vil's most loyal retainer.

You really are a trouble magnet. But it won't do your noble upbringing justice if you don't pay him back, right? He did save your reputation after all, maybe even your life. Thus, the following days are spent with Rook, giving him gifts and doing everything you can to pay back the debt of whatever weight you thought that duel carried. He treats you like a friend even though you're sure you've never met him before, and he lets you stay in his room to help him scrapbook photos of Neige LeBlanche. He teaches you how elves wield a bow and arrow, and his eyes light up when you invite him over to your manor for the weekend to hunt some monsters that loitered around the edge of the woods. Typically, your family's knights would handle the culling, but he seemed to find killing monsters with you as a fun pastime so you do as he wants to.

He sits you down and tells you he really enjoys spending time with you, and that you shouldn't think of it as a debt to be repaid anymore. And surely, this very nice elf won't kill you...right?

You gingerly cross him off the list.

"Rook senpai, I'm glad I found you." You walk over to the bush that wiggled weirdly earlier, and you're not surprised when a blond elf pops out of the foliage. You show him the item in your hands. "Look! I got you a limited edition signed photocard of that Neige. This hasn't been released yet, so I know it's not in your collection."

You swear there are tears in his eyes as he captures you in a hug, laughing wildly. "Merci mon amour! C’est vraiment merveilleux, oh, je comprends maintenant pourquoi tant de personnes sont tombées amoureuses de toi."

You don't know what he said, but you're glad he's happy.

[seoulmatez]

— 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓈𝑜 𝒷𝒶𝒹 ౨ৎ

miya atsumu x reader. 715 wc. ﾉ sfw ﾉ fluff ﾉ mentions of injury ﾉ repost!

“is sitting in front of the tv your only plan for the next six weeks?” you ask atsumu as you hand him a plate. the sandwich you made him from lunch is far from gourmet, but he sends you a weak smile in appreciation anyway.

“can’t do much else,” he answers before taking a bite of his food.

“that’s fair.” you plop down on the couch beside him. the cast wrapped around his ankle is keeping his movement pretty limited. “but are you going to spend all your recovery time watching volleyball? seems like it’s just rubbing salt into the wound.”

if someone asked you to describe atsumu in limited words, your first thought would be “career-driven”—so much so that he was willing to ignore the growing pain in his ankle until it was too late to prevent further injury. all it took was one miscalculated landing for him to end up in the hospital and off the court. now that he’s confined to the house, there is a notable difference in his demeanor, the air about him. 

“gotta stay sharp,” he mumbles through the food in his mouth, “i can’t play or practice so this is the next best thing.”

you’ve always admired his work ethic, but his unwillingness to relax every once in a while concerns you. even when he’s being forced to take a step back from his job, his mind still finds a way to circle back to work. you never want to see him hurt, out of the game, but you’re glad that he’s finally physically resting.

“i know it sucks, but maybe you really needed this break. even if you didn’t, at the very least, it’s a reminder to be more careful and listen to your body.” you give his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “i’m sure it’ll feel like no time before you’re back in action.”

the blonde hums in acknowledgment, though, it’s clear that your words do little to console him. the thought of having him home more often leaves you happy despite the circumstances, but is it really worth it if you’re in the presence of only a shell of the man you fell in love with?

your mind wanders to thoughts of how to cheer atsumu up while you wash the dishes from lunch. by the time you’re finished, you’ve come up with an idea that is a sure way to pull your boyfriend out of his slump.

you return to the living room with a pouch of stationery supplies and take a seat on the floor near atsumu’s propped leg. he glances down at you, curiosity sparkling in his dark eyes as you uncap one of the colorful sharpies.

“what are you doing?” he questions. looks like something other than volleyball has captured his attention.

“what’s it look like? i’m decorating your cast.”

atsumu huffs out a laugh and shakes his head but his gaze stayed glued to your carefully moving hand as it drags the ink across the cast. he bites his cheek to hold back a laugh at your tongue poking out from between your lips. he can’t quite tell what you’re drawing, but he can confidently say that you’re laser-focused on it.

“all done!” you proudly announce, tossing the pen off to the side. simple doodles and phrases like “world’s best boyfriend” and “japan’s #1 setter” are scattered about the cast encasing the lower half of his leg. you might be biased, but it doesn’t look half bad. “what do you think?”

your act is a childish sentiment, but you can’t help but hope the silly gesture is enough to bring the setter some much needed joy.

atsumu smiles—the first genuine smile he’s worn since receiving the news that he wouldn’t be able to play for the rest of the season. while he’d much rather be busy at work than restricted to his couch and bed, he has to admit that being able to spend some time with you is the best of this otherwise unfavorable situation. he figures that you had picked up on the shift in his mood and were attempting to lift his spirits. how could he not love it? “looks great. way better than plain white.”

and you smile, too. because when atsumu is happy, you’re happy.

thanks for giving this a read! consider reblogging if u enjoyed :3

[reqxxyt]

the minute i fell

pairings: charles l. x f!reader

summary: in which Charles and Carlos make a bet to get with the photographer of Ferrari, a reserved introvert, but finally getting the chance to speak to her, Charles realizes he already lost.

warnings: i had no idea how to end this.. very rushed ending

wc: 2.1k

masterlist requests are open!

[unedited]

_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

The duo sat on the paddock floor, laughing along as others passed them in the ferrari garage not taking into consideration of their conversation. 

“I’m telling you, I am amazing with the women” Charles claimed while Carlos gave him a non convinced look, not accepting his claim. A familiar figure caught Carlos’ eye ready to prove Charles wrong. 

“What about y/n?” Carlos said, a bit quieter as the two turned analyzing her movements as she was adjusting the camera settings, ready to pack and leave. Charles’ gaze longed as he was about to reject the proposal before he heard the spaniard next to him say “Or you could always prove yourself wrong” 

Charles competitive spirit flamed as he just nodded, turning his gaze away from the girl towards Carlos just nodding his head making the other just smirk, already loving the idea of how this would turn out.

It was well known in the garage that y/n didn’t like to be bothered, very quiet and reserved to others. Everyone at some point tried to be friendly towards her but her blunt responses would cause them to turn away, thinking she didn’t like them, didn’t like anyone. 

So when Charles got up he automatically crossed off all of his starter questions knowing it would only end the conversation in 2 seconds. On the other end, the girl was exhausted, having dealt with trying to capture the best moments of the weekend with a constant headache and jetlag. But the job overweight the cons everytime, she was only ever quiet because she was too focused on her job, not allowing anyone to interrupt her during her time. Yes, she already knew most saw her as rude, but she didn’t mind that, at least they stopped pretending to be nice the first week. 

“Capture all the good moments?” at first she thought Charles wasn’t speaking to her, still focused on tuning some camera settings until she heard him clear his throat in front of her finally making her look up. He waited for a proper response but all he received was a tight smile and a barely noticeable nod. The girl was about to gather her belongings, thinking the conversation was done but instead he kept talking to her, “Maybe I’ll get an early preview?”

“Yeah, maybe” she said simply, getting her tote bag and ready to walk out, but Charles didn’t seem to give up almost blocking her exit before she scurried next to him and squeezed outside. 

“What are you doing later tonight?” he ran up to her, catching up to her fast pace clearly catching the hint but refusing to give up this early after Carlos doubted him. Y/n simply shrugged mumbling a soft “don’t know” 

“What if-” he was interrupted with y/n turning and catching him off guard as she finally grew annoyed and said “What do you want, Charles? Seriously, do you find it entertaining to talk to someone who doesn’t want a conversation right now?”

Charles stood, stunned at her questions, finally gathering his thoughts after a couple of moments, commenting “This is the most you’ve spoken. Improvement” the corners of his lips twitch upwards as she sighed, growing more irritated that that was the portion he focused on more. Before he could say anything more on her ‘improvement’ she turned saying a simple “Goodnight” leaving Charles to think to himself while his teammate was trying not to laugh a few feet away seeing Charles’ failed attempt with front row seats. 

A couple of days later

Y/n would be lying if she said she didn’t hate the plan for today, it consisted of having to do a photoshoot with the two drivers. She was hoping to not have to interact with Charles but the way the past couple of days had gone he would definitely try something. 

She had finally finished adjusting the lighting on the scene, seeing the two drivers walk up to their designated areas and before she  could even wrap around the strap on my neck, she spotted Charles with messed up hair. The photographer looked around, hoping to find their hairdresser but found them nowhere near, with a heavy sigh she walked to Charles and trying to keep the most distance, leaned upwards and adjusted the strands that stuck out not daring to make eye contact or take a smell of his fresh cologne.

Charles tried his best to keep her in that same position, praying her gaze would lower to his own, thinking eye contact could help him with achieving this stupid bet he already began regretting and having doubts of his own, but he refused to accept defeat. Seeing her simply turn around after finishing made him internally frustrated, trying to come up with another idea while she was still here. 

After the first set, Charles subconcecially ran his hands through his hair, not realizing he had messed it up until he heard her steps forward him replacing his hand with her own as she ran through it, trying her best to fix his mess. In that moment, Charles felt his own heart speed up, realizing just how pretty the girl was from up close, with a focused gaze having her nose scrunch before leaning back down. This time, she glanced back at him, making direct eye contact but stepped back forcing herself away from him. 

“Fix your shirt Leclerc” she commented, waiting on him as she walked back to her original position. Charles looked down only seeing it tucked in slightly. His innocent smile grew with curious eyes as he asked 

“Why not fix it for me?” he immediately noticed the way her cheeks got pink, whether that be from the bright sun or his question he doesn’t want the answer to, wanting his own delusions to be the true meaning but she just glared at him, ignoring how the sun somehow made his eyes look perfect at the current angle. 

“That would be considered inappropriate” she said, looking back down, ready to take the next set right after he could fix it but she just looked up at him seeing his innocent smile. She turned to Carlos, asking him to fix it and he did with no obligation, she just smiled to herself afterwards before taking another couple of photos, checking them afterwards ready to take the final set at the next location. 

The two followed the girl to the next location with a safe enough distance where she couldn’t hear their whispered conversation. 

“No luck?” Carlos asked even though already knowing the answer but wanting to hear it from him and finally admit to defeat but Charles only refused, saying “it’s only been a couple of days”

Carlos just hummed before the two finally caught back up to the girl, waiting for them by the two cars. She instructed them where to stand, giving them simple instructions thinking it shouldn’t be that difficult completely forgetting she was dealing with an irratating Charles today. He stood a couple of feet away from his position, 

“Can you scoot to the left a little, Charles?” she asked, trying her best to appear polite and surprisingly he did as he was told with no obligation. She took the first picture, making sure there was no odd glare anywhere before finally getting back down to take more shots. Taking the final picture, she concluded the day with a simple ‘perfect’. 

The girl was looking through them all, making some adjustments not appearing to notice the Monacan driver walking up to her, only managing to spook her with a simple greeting, only earning a glare right after. 

"Do you need something else" she asked, putting her camera down to face him and while the gesture may have meant little to the photographer it meant an advancement to Charles, making eye contact was his specialty. 

"Just making sure I look good" he said with his charming smile, she only nodded mumbling a barely audible "You always do" but Charles had heard, not so clear but he could make up the mumble, making his smirk grow just by a millimeter. 

"Is it too late for you to fix my hair" he asked with a hint of mischief in his tone but she only stared blankly, not the slightest amused, ready to walk away from the conversation but he grasped her wrist before she could take a step holding her back, sending a strange sensation to both. 

"Terrble joke" he apoligized, knowing he was giving her a hard time. He sighed, debating the options before finally admitting, "Truth is, me and Carlos had this bet going on for the past couple of days, now thinking about it, it was stupid. I won’t bother you again, just please don’t hate me"

"I already knew" she shrugged not appearing the slightest suuprised meanwhile Charles nearly had his whole jaw agape of the reveal. "I was waiting for when you would tell me"

"You knew? Since when?" he didn't know whether to feel embarrassed or stupid. Definetly both.

"The first day" she said ready turn now before saying "Don’t worry, I could never hate the prettiest driver"

The next day had been quite normal, considering Charles stopped bothering the girl, but he couldn’t stop thinking about her. The girl he couldn’t get, had started off as a bet where he would have her fall for him, turned to him falling for her. 

“Hey, Charles?” Her voice made his heart spike up, turning to see her with a small smile. “Mind helping me with something?” 

He nodded, waiting for her request as she fiddled with her ear, taking out a single earring. 

“I lost my earring earlier, mind helping me look of it?” he noticed her earring, one similar to another he had spotted not too far, a golden stud with diamond specs. He just nodded, observing it in her hand before replying with a simple sure. Without saying much else, he headed to the last place he saw it last with the girl trailing behind him. 

“I think I saw it earlier around here” he informed, starting the search with her. “I’ve never seen you wear jewelry before” he attempted to make a conversation and while the girl hesitated, she decided to reply with interest, “I don’t. Normally I am not allowed to, I only wear them on formal occasions really. But the one time I tried wearing it, i seemed to have lost it”

Charles only chuckled, searching the area with more detail. “It sure looks pretty, gift, I assume?” he wanted the conversation to last a lifetime, hearing her voice made him both comfortable and on suspense. 

“Yeah, my mother gave it to me. The only gift she gave me and I’ve lost it” her voice filled with sorrow and Charles immedietly filled terrible, ready to apoligize for even bringing it up but all she gave him was a reassuring smile, “It’s okay, I just need to find it is all” 

The search continued, lasting an hour before the girl gave a tired sigh, feeling her eyes trickled with water but she refused to cry, at least not in front of someone. She was ready to give up, clinging onto the one that she hasn’t lost yet hoping to anyone that could hear to allow her to find the gift. Meanwhile, Charles refused to give up not needing her frowned expression to be the appearance she gives him everyday because he couldn’t find her precious item. Not too long afterward, he finally spotted it, underneath a rug, he immediately grasped it letting out a soft yell, enough for her to hear him 

“Found it!” immediately, she went to him observing the earring before confirming it and thanking him, excitement struck her as she leaped forward grabbing the sides of his face pushing her lips to his. 

Charles arms fell to his sides, still needing time to react before closing her in his embrace wanting to deepen the kiss, eager for more, still ensuring to keep grasp of the earring. The kiss only lasted a minute before the girl finally brought herself back, bringing her hands to her sides, no longer looking at the earring but needing a positive reaction from the driver she as well was having a headache about the past couple of days. 

Seeing no reaction, she immediately grasped the earring thanking him silently but before she could turn away, he grabbed the sides of her face pulling her back in for another taste, she immediately melted in his arms, almost dropping the earring. After the two separated, their eyes wouldnt dare leave each other for a second, Charles lifting a corner of his mouth, feeling all types of adrenaline while the girl in his arms tried her best to calm down not sure if she was liking the rapid pace her heart was going. 

“Hope this isn’t part of your plan Leclerc” was all she could let out, with a shaky breath. Charles only smiled, reassuring her

“I lost the minute I started falling” 

[slutforalastor]

Confessional

Human Priest Alastor has a particularly committed parishioner with an unholy request. NOT APPROPRIATE FOR THOSE UNDER THE AGE OF 18. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Tags: SO MANY CHURCH REFERENCES, light voyeurism, temptation, bloodletting, church AU I guess if you wanna get technical, way too many big words for plotless smut

"In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit."

You kneel before a shadow, crossing yourself. You know the shadow's face, having spent countless Sundays smiling from your lips and weeping from between your legs during his service. You know that he can see you, perhaps even recognizes you. You're aware of the purpose of confessional, the supposed tenants guiding the practice, but you are not here to absolve yourself. You seek indulgence, not purification.

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been eleven months since my last confession. These are my sins. I harbor impure thoughts, thoughts that I know have been given to me by the Lord. He is guiding us towards a union, perhaps to conceive, but for some holy purpose, regardless. There can be no other reason why you'd occupy my every waking thought, why my maiden's bed feels so cold and empty, as though incomplete without your body next to mine. Each and every night, I sin in that bed, allowing my own hand to guide me to an incomplete release. It never gives me any feeling of blessing, only of deeper desire to blaspheme. My soul is forever lost without your faithful shepherding, Father."

The shadow moves, clears its throat, no trace of emotion to be gleaned from his intonation.

"My dear child, you seem lost, confused. As a man I am flattered, perhaps even humbled, by this confession. But you must hold steady against these impure delusions, for God has placed me on a different path."

His rebuke only serves to hasten your desire. You feel yourself laden with honeyed need, leaking against the inside of your thighs through your underwear. You know he can see you kneeling, prostrating yourself before the judgment of your holy superior. Still on your knees, you lean back, hiking up the fabric of your skirt, pushing your hips up to present your ruined panties. "Holy Father, you are a servant of the Lord, are you not? Would you deny that one of your flock is in need? Would you leave them to temptation in solitude, with only their hands, the devil's playthings, for companionship?"

His voice betrays the first sign of will being tested. "This could just as easily be a test, a bit of trickery from the Devil himself."

"Who better to rid me of devilish desire than one who speaks on God's behalf? Who baptizes the young, unifies lovers, grants last rites to the condemned? Serve your Lord and banish this Devil from my loins, if you be pious, if you be merciful."

His voice is trembling now, thick with an intent you had hoped to provoke. You are intriguing him, winning him over. Summoning your courage, you draw your underwear down to your ankles, clumsily preening your sex the same way you have been whenever the heat between your legs burns like Hellfire. "See for yourself how the Lord makes me a conduit. Would you call this the will of the Devil? The need of a woman for a man?"

"I have taken an oath..." he stutters, choking on his own words.

"An oath to serve your parishioners... Would you bear witness to sin, knowing you can make it holy?" you bleat, the lamb on the altar, bound by ropes fastened to your soul. The Priest stands, and you can see his shadow making the mark of the cross, muttering a prayer to himself. Your self-defilement doesn't even slow, the low, wet sounds of hungry flesh accepting your phallic substitute the only sound in the confessional. In another moment, you hear the door opening, and your savior stands framed in the light of the jamb.

"Bless you, Father," you moan. He shuts the door, and in the dimness, you capture the full depth of his radiance. His brown hair drapes in front of his eyes, standing as a buffer between those nearly-black irises and the small circular frames that grace the bridge of his nose. A nervous sweat shimmers on his dark skin. His cassock is disheveled, his silver cross hung up on one of the higher buttons, collar greyed at the edges from sweat.

"We must make haste to rid you of this curse," he breathes, tugging at his collar. Thinking on its symbolism, he detaches it entirely, leaving it hanging on the doorknob. With rough strength, he brings you to the chair one could use to confess face-to-face, bringing your arousal level with him when he drops to his knees. He inhales, something within that bouquet seeming to pique his interest. "You reek of unholy desire."

"It has tormented me, Father."

"I can see now what you mean. It would be irresponsible to leave you in such a state. I shall grant you this mercy, my child. God will heal you through me."

With a slight tilt of his head, he partakes in your communion, his lips brushing over the outermost of your folds, murmuring a prayer against the electrified nerves. You can feel every syllable evoked against your body, sending ripples of heaven cascading through your system. You are certain that God's holy presence is being imparted from the teasing edges of his lips into your body. His tongue parts from between his pursed, muttering lips, lapping at the inside of your sex, searching for something buried deeper still. Your hands dare to caress his head, guiding him towards the spot he seeks. Charting into fresh territory, he stakes claim to it, his eager tongue seeking out places you've yet to even map yourself. Each press of it is a blessing, the burning ache in your flesh the doubtless throes of a demon being flayed from your soul.

"My dear, I'm beginning to wonder if I misjudged. Your taste is divine."

Your fingers dig into his thick locks, pressing him to persist even further, to reach past the purgatory of your desire. You feel his nose grinding against your most sensitive spot, something you have never had a name for, feeling every time he inhales and exhales, his mouth far too preoccupied with more concerning matters. You are fighting to keep your carnal affectations from becoming any louder than a whining wail you smother in the small of your throat, lest it be loosed completely unrestrained.

"You're doing well to keep your voice lowered," he praises you. "You are a true servant of your Lord."

"I-I am in his service," you affirm, your words snaring every time his tongue darts against your walls.

"Your dedication deserves to be rewarded," and he pushes himself as far as the limitations of flesh permit, lodging his lapping extremity so firmly within that you startle nearly upright, sharp nails that bite against the fabric of your clothes urging you back down. "He says 'be still and know that I am God.'"

You groan against the scripture being branded on your innards, a new sensation creeping across the tensed muscles of your legs. With a muffled moan, he is baptized in your release, and he offers a satisfied sound of approval. Your legs quake against the ceaseless undulating of his attentions, finally extricating himself when he's had his fill of you. He runs the long, thin thing that just concluded making a mess of your insides over his glistening grin, still slick from your consecration. Your focus drifts downward, to the crook that will shepherd you to salvation tenting the fabric of his soutane.

"Traces of habitation still remain, my child. We must take measures to save your spirit." He undoes the lower buttons of his robe, exposing himself to you, as he would have been in Eden. You can feel it against you, afire with purifying heat, sliding against your sopping entrance with anticipation. "Accept these rites."

"Bless me, Father," you whine, grinding yourself against him.

"Please, dear, call me Alastor." It's not permission; it's a demand. He waits, poised against you.

"Please give me your blessing, Alastor."

His lips curl into a grin, his canines so jagged and long that they're the first teeth you see. "God answers all prayers in good time." With a shove, he enters you, your teeth clenching, your breath shorting at the feeling of this union. He can't help but let a pleasured grunt leave his lips, and he catches your eyes as the last inch of him slips inside, brushing an errant strand of hair from your eyes. You feel cold, flushed at the overwhelming relief of finally being face-to-face with what you'd thought could only be in a fantasy. He gives a thrust, testing the waters, shaking your faith. You whimper against the force of it, still growing accustomed to the sensation of being taken. "Do you feel the sin drying up? The demonic need being purged?" Alastor wonders, driving himself into you with ever-increasing force, his restraint abandoned. "In its place will be holy admiration, a want to submit, as all of God's good creatures must possess."

"I will be a good creature," you promise.

"The best their ever was," Alastor croons, his jagged incisors hunting for the soft of your neck, carving runes against the submissive skin, seas of red pooling in the canyons. "Will your blood run black, as a demon's, or red, like the dust of the Earth? You have the allure of a succubus, but the taste of a virgin." His nails ribbon your collarbone, leaving oozing trails like spilled wine. He partakes of this communion with the same vigor as before, drinking it like an elixir. Your nervous hands grasp against his back, enfeebled fingers digging into the fabric of his clothing. Through all of this, his rutting has never slowed, increasing in desperation when he samples your blood. When he pulls away, you can see it trickling against his teeth, his tongue dragging over the surface to crudely clean them.

"I have dreamed of this, Alastor."

"Our lord works in mysterious ways," he assures you, clawed fingers still tracing thin rivulets across your skin. "I am nearly at my limit," he pants, burying himself against you. His thrusts finally slow, each push against you deliberate, purposeful. With his body laid against yours, his mouth is laid by your ear, and you can hear every facet of his breathing, every pant, moan, and inhale he makes broadcasting into your brain, the only sound you can hear. You are as close as he is, and you wrap yourself around him as he pumps into you one final time, his holy fire coating your insides, his assured breaths becoming high-pitched whines as he spasms against you, driving you to your own climax. It is nothing like what you've made yourself feel; it sends shockwaves through the taut fibers of your lower half, makes you cry out in uncontrollable lust, leaving your limbs clenched around Alastor as the last of his climax is left spilt within. You feel his chest heave with a deeply drawn breath, his sigh in your ear scattering chills across you. "Do you feel purified, dear?"

"I worry that I will have further need of your services, Alastor."

He pulls away from you, his smile sadistic yet sincere. "The clergy lives to serve, after all."

[anemonelovesfiction]

10 ~ Cowgirl

Tonowari x Avatar! Reader x Ronal

Warnings ⚠️: Eating out, Riding, cowgirl, slight suffocation if you squint, passing out

Not Proofread

MDNI 🔞

This one goes out to whoever sent me this ask I apologize for it being late, but better late than never? And I used camera instead <I’m so sorry but I hope you like it still>

Holy crud it’s been ten whole days of this event and I couldn’t be happier to spend them with you guys!

Translation Station

Tsahik: Shaman; Healer; Interpreter of the will of Eywa

Marui: Home (in the Metkayina Language)

Olo’eyktan: Male clan leader

Paysyul: Water lily

Tawtute: Sky person (Human)

Yawne: Beloved

Word Count: 3k

It had been tough news to choke down when Jake had called your brother, Norm, to come help with Kiri after she had remained in a comatose state after having connected to the spirit tree. I’d actually been the one to deliver the news to Jake that it had sounded like Kiri had suffered a seizure, but what was an even harder pill to swallow was the gorgeous pregnant Tsahik coming into the marui - a word I’d learned meant home for the Metkayina- I could have sworn her gaze had lingered on me slightly but it could have been my mind playing tricks on me. Her gaze breaking as she finally looked around the room and avoided eye contact with Neytiri.

“I see that I am not needed here.” She stated in Na’Vi, although I had been mesmerized by the difference in her pronunciation in the words to make my hands work as quickly as I’d wanted them to -out of respect for her and the title she held- I’d learned Na’Vi alongside Norm back on Earth and we often studied together, testing one another until we nailed the language.

She had been carrying a basket filled with things she would have used on Kiri had we not been occupying the space in this Marui, my gaze still caught on her as her beauty was starting to make me nervous, had we overstepped out bounds with her? Was she upset with us at the moment? I attempted to slap Norm’s hand to catch his attention so we could start removing ourselves from her way but he’d written me off as him, Max, and Jake continued talking amongst themselves, I fought to roll my eyes as I capture Neytiri grasping the woman’s arm.

“You are Tsahik!” Neytiri almost growls at the woman and as soon as she turns I realize she is heavily pregnant, I attempt to knock some sense into myself but she speaks before I could move.

“Remove these things.” The woman holds her head high and I feel like I’m about to start shaking from having upset her. Her eyes look over to Neytiri as a means to get her to translate but I’d already stood up at this moment, grabbing my bag, capturing the tsahik’s gaze once more, flinching once Neytiri had opened her mouth as I scooted past her.

“Out! You have done nothing.” I didn’t bother watching the guys scramble as I hear Jake muttering something about them taking a break. I’d taken a liking into Mo’at’s training of the next Tsahik for the Omatikaya and stayed close enough to watch what this Tsahik had been doing but far enough away to give them their privacy if they needed, but with her sturdy work and continual chanting, she’d managed to get Kiri to wake up.

Kiri’s immediate response was to start crying and as Neytiri began to comfort her daughter I could feel the tears welling up in my own eyes. I’d always been a bit sensitive since I was younger, but to have witnessed something like this was like a miracle in and of itself.

That had happened about two months ago, Jake ended up having to talk to me before we left as the Tsahik and Olo’eyktan had wanted to speak with me personally, at that moment I’d believed I’d done something wrong and started feeling nervous, had I been in my human body I would have started sweating profusely but I was metaphorically shitting bricks.

To my surprise the Tsahik had done all of the talking as her husband just watched me, Jake had been there to translate if I needed it but more as my safety cushion, I was surprised to hear that she was straightforward with how I’d managed to capture her attention, how easily I’d followed her instructions without being asked, and how emotional I had been upon seeing Kiri waking up, but she absolutely floored me when she stated that she and her husband had wanted to court me because of a pull she felt for me.

_________

That wasn’t the last time I had been nervous around her, she was rather rough with her words but I understood that part of it was her placing boundaries between herself and her privacy, but nothing would have prepared me for what would happen when I came into our shared marui with a polaroid camera as it was a human contraption, but my intentions had been set to seeing this as a positive thing, although I wasn’t sure how the conversation would go.

Tonowari would be the most understanding out of the two as he was soft spoken, very kind, and usually won over with a kiss or two, but even then I wasn’t sure how he’d handle this either, I’d actually pulled back the flap of the marui and held the camera behind me as I walked in to the beautiful scene before me.

Tonowari had been gingerly rubbing a fragrant oil on Ronal’s belly carefully, it was the kind that helped ease her pain with the burden of having to carry such a large child, it also smelled very sweet, but I knew better than to think I’d be undetected as the woman had eyes all over her head.

“What have you got there, Paysyul?” She asks without turning her head to look at me and I stiffen my body at the thought of having been caught, I let out a sigh as I remove the object from behind my back and bring it forward instantly, knowing I couldn’t hide this thing behind my back forever.

Tonowari is the first to turn and tilt his head in curiosity, but his nose crinkled as he saw what I had been holding, they had both become familiar with being able to tell what tawtute contraptions were and from the look on his face he was leaning more toward not wanting to know what it was. Ronal easily capturing her husbands disapproval is quick to lift her gaze and settle it on mine, bypassing the camera in my hand and immediately talking to me.

“What have you brought into our home, paysyul?” She asks with a flick of her tail, ears going back as her head tilts slightly, one arm going to stroke the oil on her belly as the other planted on the floor to support her as she leans back a bit.

“A camera.” I stated stupidly as I comment on the device in my hand but feel frozen in fear as I’ve never really had an argument with them before, but I knew I was overstepping an invisible boundary by having brought this thing in here in the first place.

“And why have you brought this into our home?” Tonowari is quick to chime in as one of his hands goes to Ronal’s lower back to give her some support as the two are sitting on the floor, his other just settled on his lap.

“I- I wanted to- to tell you-“ I stopped talking at that moment as my nerves had started getting the better of me and I could feel my throat closing up, my eyes were starting to get wet but not to the point that I would cry- at least not yet.

“Take a breath paysyul, we are not mad, just curious.” Ronal stated sweetly and I could feel the tension leaving my shoulders as I drop them.

“Take a breath and start again.” She encourages and it honestly helps as I take in a deep breath and let it out slowly, feeling my heart beating back to normal and my eyes drying up, my vision no longer slightly blurred.

“This is a camera, we used it back in my home to capture a moment in time, and we saved it forever.” I responded once I’d gotten out of my own head.

“Thats what our stories and song cords are for.” Ronal adds in but is given a look from our mate, I could only bite my lip nervously and looked back down.

“Does this hold a sentiment to you?” Tonowari asks sweetly and waits for my answer, all I could do was nod wordlessly.

“I can- I can show you how it works if you want.”

_________

“Th-this isn’t what I had in m-mind-“ I moaned as I slowly slid down Tonowari’s member, my hands placed on his muscular abdomen as I lowered myself even more, still having a hard time taking all of him in, I could still feel a slight sting of pain as I was not used to having to ride him as Ronal usually took that roll. But she was busy stuffing his mouth with her cunt as she rode his face instead.

Although she was on his face she was facing me, placing her hand under my chin to keep me form looking down and closing my eyes, I wondered how a woman as pregnant as her could keep such balance but never questioned it as I’m sure she’s had practice after her first two kids, these two were truly insatiable.

I could feel her snaking her arm around my back and grasping my braid, giving it a sensual tug and hearing a moan rip out my lips, she’d brought my kuru close to her mouth and before I could question what was happening, I can feel her tongue on the tendrils of my kuru, having caught me off guard with doing that I slide all the way down Tonowari’s length, taking him to the hilt and moaning with pain and pleasure as Ronal continues to tongue fuck my kuru.

“She’s squeezing around me already,” Tonowari was strong enough to have lifted Ronal off his face just to speak only for her to shush him and slam herself back down onto his mouth.

Whenever I first had gotten my Avatar, I was eternally grateful to be a driver, but once I had to learn the ways of the Metkayina I noticed my Kuru would purposely split in two before the tendrils started going crazy. I even had to ask Norm and Jake if theirs did the same thing as I never recalled anyone else’s doing this, but to my surprise theirs didn’t, it wasn’t until I’d first mated with Ronal and Tonowari that I noticed theirs did the same, it was fashioned in such a way that the three of us could connect ourselves together while being intimate.

Just as Ronal had been done teasing my Kuru, she’d brought it over to Tonowari’s, connecting the two together and allowing me a second to feel everything he had been feeling at this moment, the gentle calmness that washed over me once connecting to him reminded me of sitting at the beach while listening to the waves lap in the distance, closing my eyes as I feel the warmth of the sun. Right when I lifted my hips from his, I could feel a newer connection, as if it were a windy almost stormy day on the beach but every fiber of my being knew everything would be alright, thats what it felt like when connecting to her.

“Oh paysyul you feel incredible, why don’t you try sliding back down on him hm?” Ronal asks as she lets go of our intertwined kuru, knowing that even if they fell to the floor they wouldn’t disconnect unless we willed them to or pulled them off one another.

Right as I slide back down I could feel Tonowari swipe his tongue over Ronal’s cunt and her hips bucking against his mouth, I let out a whimper, tossing my head back as I let out a strangled moan silently thanking Eywa for allowing us to experience what the other was feeling before a sudden flash of light stirs me out of my thoughts.

I raise my head upright, opening my eyes to find Ronal with the camera near her face as she continues looking through the lens of the camera, she then removes the camera from her face as the picture prints out, she gently takes the slip of paper and removes it from the bottom, airing it out to get the picture to develop.

“Look at you,” She coo’s, turning the picture around to let me catch a glimpse, my eyes closed in pure ecstasy, my hands still settled on Tonowari’s abdomen but you could see through the space between my arms with his teal cock buried deep inside my cobalt blue skin. I could feel the purple blush settling on my cheeks at this moment before feeling Tonowari thrust his hips upward, causing a yelp to leave my lips.

“That feels nice, ‘Wari,” Ronal states as she places her hands on his chest, still holding into the camera as she grinds herself all over his mouth. I sneak my hands past hers and grasp the camera, taking a steady hold of it and looking through the lens, snapping the picture right when Ronal had started coming.

Her eyes slightly opened but only the whites were showing, indicating her eyes were rolled to the back of her head, which often happened as she was sensitive from her pregnancy. Her bottom lip sucked in through her teeth as a sinful moan had escaped, her knee’s coming closer together toward Tonowari’s face and her hips slightly blurred due to the speed at which she had been grinding his face with, her tail raised behind her stiffly. A groan coming from the man below her, whose arms had been wrapped around her thighs in an attempt to keep her placed where she was.

I could feel everything through our bond and felt myself tighten around Tonowari’s length once more, stopping to readjust myself, i stead of having my knee’s straddling him, I’d placed the flats of my feet on the floor of the marui, giving me the best position for me to ride him better.

Ronal has a drunken expression on her face as she has felt fulfilled, she gently slides off his face and once she does I can see most of it from the nose down glistening in our mates juices. I smile down at him and use my arm to extend the camera above our bodies, since I was naked and my breast were perked up it was obvious what position I was in, I snap the picture and wait for it to print out, refusing to tear it off and handing the camera to Ronal, having her take a look at the picture as a smile frames her gorgeous face.

“This one is a moment worth savoring, paysyul.” She smiles at me and places the camera down, leaning over toward me and placing her lips on mine, I couldn’t help but grind my hips in an attempt to get closer to her, hearing our groaning partner below, who desperately grasps my hips. Ronal gently places her hand on my cheek and forces her tongue inside my mouth, as I moan I hear the click of the camera, opening my eyes, slowly sucking on Ronal’s tongue and disconnecting from her mouth fully only to see Tonowari holding the camera with a smug smile on his face.

I could only grow hotter at the scene before me as the two of them had now been paying full attention to me, Ronal placing her hands on my breasts and running her thumbs alongside my nipples, a rush of excitement running through me. Understanding what they wanted I lifted my hips up, with the help of my feet, and slid back down forcefully, coming into contact with Tonowari’s hips and moaning loudly, doing that motion once more as I felt Ronal kissing my neck.

“Goodness Paysyul, I’m closer than you think,” Tonowari growls out as he places the camera on the floor, now fully grasping my hips as he lifts me up himself, watching where our bodies were connected as he slams me down, his hips rising to meet mine, and a lewd moan slipping through my lips as Ronal plays with my nipples.

He keeps the same motion going, making me feel like I was seeing stars, accepting my fate as I screwed my eyes shut, allowing my legs to do some of the work as I rose up and slam back down on his hard cock. I swear I could see flashes going off in my vision and other was at this moment I’d no longer felt Ronal’s light touches on my breasts, I couldn’t bear opening my eyes as I felt the same heat spread across my cheeks.

“Fuck I’m close!” I yelled in English and felt Tonowari set a faster pace as I slam i to his cock without faltering.

It felt as though each slam of his cock was taking my breath away and I was struggling to catch it, I could hear my breaths coming in short shallow huffs as his iron grip on my hips keeps me at bay between losing myself and reality.

“Thats it paysyul, why don’t you be a good girl and come for us?” Ronal coo’s from whatever corner of the marui she had been standing in, another flash going off from the camera.

“I’m fuckin’ close-“ I moan out as I attempt to grasp Tonowari’s abdomen for some sort of stability, feeling as though I was dipping down low in a hole that would be impossible for me to dig myself out of.

“Come Paysyul. Paint my cock white with your juices,” He barely manages to get those words out and I can feel my pleasure toed up in a tight strong that knotted right in my stomach. I could feel it taught in my abdomen ready to burst.

“Thats it,” He coo’s at me in an encouraging manner.

“Come for us yawne,” He speaks once more and thats when I reach my limit.

Everything seems to have frozen in time and all I can feel is my orgasm fast approaching completely knocking me out cold.

[redroomreflections]

My Other Half

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader and their teen!daugther

request:Am I bugging out or did Cara have a half sister? If so do you think you could write something about them being reunited and how Natasha and R would view this?

Note: this is going to have to be two parts because that's all i got.

w/c: 2.9k

Cara sat cross-legged on her bed, the soft hum of her laptop providing a comforting backdrop as she edited her latest video. Her YouTube channel had gained a decent following, and she enjoyed sharing her life with her audience, but sometimes the influx of notifications left her feeling overwhelmed. Tonight was no different. The chime rang out again and again, interrupting her flow.

She let out a sigh and pulled her headphones down to rest around her neck. It was her own fault, she knew, that her notifications were still on. It's then she decided to take a break and check her Instagram notifications. Her account had been buzzing with comments and messages from fans, and she hoped that scrolling through them would be a nice distraction. Cara opened the app and began to sift through the usual fan messages and occasional sponsorship offers. A message in her inbox caught her eye, and her breath caught in her throat.

The message read: @jennajoy "Hi Cara, it's Jenna. I hope this isn't too weird, but I found your YouTube channel and saw your videos about your life and your family. I’m Jenna—your little sister. I know this might be a shock, but I wanted to reach out. Maybe we can talk?"

Cara's eyes widened as she processed the words. Shock and disbelief flooded her senses. She read the message again, her heart racing with hope and trepidation. The room seemed to spin slightly as her thoughts raced. The possibility that this could be a joke was high; she was no stranger to internet trolls. But as she clicked on the girl’s profile, she was met with images that felt strangely familiar.

Jenna’s profile picture showed a girl with a bright, open smile that mirrored Cara’s own features. Jenna had inherited their shared diamond shaped face and expressive eyes, though her hair was a shade lighter, a sandy blonde that caught the light in a way Cara remembered from her own childhood. There was a warmth in Jenna’s eyes that seemed to speak of a genuine, kind spirit.

Cara scrolled through Jenna’s feed, finding a series of simple, heartfelt posts. The first few pictures were of Jenna with a golden retriever, the dog’s fluffy coat complementing Jenna’s light brown hair. In one photo, Jenna was kneeling beside the dog, her laugh captured mid-air, radiating joy and innocence.

Another set of photos showed Jenna at a lake house, her sun-kissed skin glowing against the backdrop of a serene, blue lake. She appeared to be having fun, surrounded by what looked like her dad and a woman who might be her stepmom. They all shared a family resemblance, though the stepmom’s features were distinct, marking a clear, blended family dynamic.

Cara read through the captions, each one giving a glimpse into Jenna’s life. One read, “Had the best weekend at the lake with Dad and Mom! Can’t wait to go back soon!” Another photo showed Jenna sitting with the golden retriever, captioned, “My best friend and I, always up for adventures!”

The familiarity of Jenna’s features and the personal nature of her posts tugged at Cara’s heartstrings. She felt a lump in her throat as she digested the captions, each one a small window into a life that felt both distant and intimately connected to her own. The possibility that this was indeed her sister seemed more real with every swipe. She sat there for a moment, contemplating the message. Her fingers hovered over the screen as she fought to steady her breathing. After a deep breath, she slowly began to type a response, her mind a whirl of emotions.

@ iamcara Hi Jenna, thank you for reaching out. This is a big surprise. I am glad to know you and have some family. Do you want to chat on Facetime?

Cara sent the message and held her breath. It was a long shot, but she couldn't shake the feeling that this might be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

The reply was instant. Jenna agreed to a call.

Cara’s heart pounded in her chest as she stared at her phone, her breath caught somewhere between hope and anxiety.

"She agreed," Cara thought.

She quickly tossed her phone onto her bed, rushing to her mirror. Her reflection stared back at her, wide-eyed and flushed.

Without thinking, she started to adjust her hair, smoothing the unruly curls that framed her face. She tied it up, then let it fall back down, unsure of which look felt more right. This wasn’t just any video call—it was her sister. Her sister. She glanced down at her clothes, then opted to throw on her favorite hoodie, something that made her feel like herself but still presentable. She bit her lip, wondering if she was overthinking it.

"Okay, just be cool. Be yourself," She thought, pacing her room as she waited for the call to connect.

Jenna’s face popped up on the screen, her wide smile lighting up the room from wherever she was calling. Cara’s breath caught in her throat as she saw those familiar eyes, the same shape and shade as her own. Jenna looked just as nervous as she felt.

“Hi! Wow, this is crazy,” Jenna said with an excited laugh. “I can’t believe we’re talking.”

“I know, right?” Cara smiled, her nerves easing a bit. “I wasn’t sure if… I mean, I didn’t even know if you’d remember me.”

“How could I forget? I’ve wanted to reach out for so long. I’ve been watching your YouTube for a while… it felt like you were always just right there.”

“Same for me. I used to wonder where you were all the time.”

There was a moment of silence as they both took it in.

Finally, Jenna broke the silence.

"I have so many questions,” she admitted. “What’s your life like now? I mean, everything you show in your videos seems so fun. And… do you still remember Mom?”

Cara’s heart tugged at that last question. Her eyes softened, and she gave Jenna a knowing smile.

“Yeah, I do. It’s kind of blurry in places, but I remember her.” She paused. “It was really hard when we were separated, but my life now? It’s good. Natasha and y/n are amazing. They adopted me officially when I was 11, but I’ve been with them since I was 9. It feels like home.”

Jenna smiled at hearing that, her excitement palpable.

“I’m so glad! I mean, I’m with Dad and my stepmom, and they’re great too. But I always wondered what happened to you, where you ended up.”

“I wondered about you, too.” She laughed, realizing how similar they sounded. “I have questions too. Like… what’s your favorite thing to do? And your dog—what’s their name? They’re super cute, by the way.”

Jenna smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "That's Zoomie."

"Zoomie," Cara echoed, giggling. "I like it."

"Are you still in New York?" Jenna asked.

"No, actually we moved to Ohio. My family and I," Cara tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"You have brothers and sisters right?"

"I do, two brothers and two sisters," Cara nodded. "Also, my cousin lives with us. My grandparents too."

"Wow, that's a lot of people. Do you like living with so many people? I feel like I have so much privacy when it's just me and my parents."

"Well, it is a lot, but it's also pretty great," Cara explained. "So you don't have siblings?"

"Nah, I think my parents are good with just me," Jenna shrugged.

"Yeah. You seem really happy."

"I am," Jenna's smile was infectious. "It's nice talking to someone who knows what it's like."

"You mean, having a family who kept you?" Cara clarified.

"Yeah. Dad and Greer are great, but they can't really understand. I mean, they try, but..."

"Yeah, I get it." Cara nodded.

Jenna shifted slightly, her curiosity returning. "How old are you now? You’re like eighteen months older than me, right?"

"Yeah, I am fifteen," Cara confirmed. "Sixteen in a couple of months."

"Crazy," Jenna said, a slight laugh in her voice. "I’m fourteen now. It’s weird, right? I mean, we’re so close in age but lived totally different lives."

Cara nodded. "Yeah, but it kind of feels like we’re picking up where we left off." Cara leaned back against her pillows. "I don't want to hang up. It's like I want to know so much about you. The last time I saw you, you would cling to me all the time. With your little pigtails and pacifier. You had that thing until you were three."

Jenna laughed. "Yeah, well, you had a blankie. That's what Mom called it."

"I did!" Cara's eyes lit up. Jenna seemed to have good memories.

"Do you still have it?"

"No, I lost that thing a long time ago," Cara said. "What about your stuffed elephant? I remember that was your favorite."

Jenna's smile faltered a bit. "Um, I lost that. I actually didn't see it again after we left you."

Cara felt a twinge of sadness for her sister.

"Do you... remember more about her?" Jenna asked quietly. "Mom?"

"Yeah. Sometimes, when I was little, I would dream about her." Cara swallowed. "I'd like to think she's out there living a good life."

"Yeah, me too," Jenna nodded, her expression serious.

"Can I tell you something?" Cara whispered, her heart hammering in her chest.

"Of course."

"When we were separated... I thought you were gone forever," Cara said quietly. "I mean, we were sisters and they separated us."

"I know." Jenna's voice was barely audible. "I thought the same thing. I'd ask Dad and Grandma about you. They could never truly give answers. Dad always said he was working to get everything in order to be able to take you too but by the time he was able to find contacts you had been adopted."

"I always wished we had been together," Cara admitted. "I know that's stupid, but we were all each other had."

"No, I get it," Jenna said.

"You seem like a cool kid, Jenna."

"So do you." Jenna smiled, her eyes softening.

"Well, I should let you go." Cara looked away from the screen.

"Yeah, my dad will be coming to check on me soon," Jenna said, the sound of voices in the background. "Can we make this a weekly thing or something?"

"Yes! I'd like that a lot." Cara beamed.

"Awesome, me too." 

They’d exchanged more information about each other before hanging up. 

Cara sat in the quiet of her room after the call ended, staring at her phone, her thumb still hovering over the “end call” button even though the screen had long since gone dark. The reality of what just happened began to sink in. Jenna—her little sister—was real, alive, and out there, living a life she had never known. The conversation replayed in her mind, their easy connection surprising her as if they hadn’t spent years apart.

She leaned back on her bed, her heart swelling with a mix of emotions she could hardly name. Part of her was overwhelmed—joy, relief, even sadness—all tangled together. There was a time she thought she’d never see Jenna again, that she was just a memory Cara would hold onto in pieces, fuzzy and distant. Now, here she was, a real person with a life of her own, and they were talking like it hadn’t been years since they were ripped apart.

Cara let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, her eyes drifting to the window where the evening light was fading. We were all each other had, she had said, and it was true. For so long, Cara had convinced herself it was okay, that her new family had filled the void. But the truth was, there was always that small piece missing—the one Jenna used to fill. Now, with just one conversation, that space didn’t feel so empty anymore.

A soft smile crept onto her face as she thought about how similar they were, despite everything. Jenna’s smile, her laugh, the way she spoke—so familiar yet new. It felt like a second chance at something Cara hadn’t realized she’d been waiting for.

She pulled her knees to her chest, resting her chin on them as she stared at her phone, Jenna’s last message still glowing on the screen. Weekly calls. It sounded so simple, but it meant everything to Cara. She wasn’t alone in her past anymore—she had someone who understood in ways Natasha and you, as much as she loved you, never truly could.

***********

A few weeks later...

The house was quiet this time of night. All of the younger kids were asleep so it gave her the perfect opportunity to speak with you. She stood in front of your bedroom door, hesitating for a moment before lightly knocking. Her palms were slightly sweaty, her nerves buzzing in the pit of her stomach. She had been thinking about this for weeks now, trying to find the right time to bring it up. Tonight felt right—after all the calls with Jenna, the questions swirling in her head, it was time to talk to you.

“Come in,” Natasha’s voice called from the other side.

Cara pushed open the door slowly, her eyes immediately landing on the both of you winding down for the night. Natasha was slipping into her favorite t-shirt, while you were already sitting on the edge of the bed, moisturizing after a shower.

“Hey, Babygirl, everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Cara said quickly, her voice a little too tight. She shifted awkwardly in the doorway, suddenly feeling a bit nervous. “I just… I want to talk to you both about something. Is now okay?”

Natasha, now fully dressed for bed, exchanged a glance with you before she nodded.

“Of course, come in,” Natasha said, her voice soft with concern. “What’s on your mind?”

Cara entered the room, sitting down in the chair next to your bed. She hesitated, then decided to just say it.

"So I know this might seem strange, and I can't stop thinking about it," she began. "I don't want you guys to be angry or anything."

"Oh my god, are you pregnant?" You asked.

Cara's face flushed with embarrassment, her heart beating erratically in her chest. "No!" She shook her head vehemently, her cheeks turning a deep crimson.

"Oh thank goodness," You sighed with relief, clutching Natasha's hand for support.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" Natasha asked, her brows furrowed.

Cara took a deep breath, steadying herself before she continued. "Well, a month ago someone reached out to me on Instagram. A girl. Her name is Jenna and she's fourteen. She's my sister."

"She's my little sister. The one I told you about before," Cara continued nervously. She could feel her palms sweating as the words hung in the air. "I know I should’ve told you sooner," She said quickly, her voice rising with a mix of panic and defense. "But I didn’t know how you’d react! I mean, I’ve been talking to her for weeks now, and it’s not like I was hiding it on purpose, I just… I didn’t want you to think I was doing something wrong. And—"

“Cara,” You interrupted gently, sitting up on the bed and reaching out a hand to stop her. “Breathe. We’re not mad.”

Cara blinked, her breath hitching. “You’re… not?”

Natasha, who had been listening quietly, shook her head, her face softening. “Of course not. We’re just surprised, that’s all. This is a big deal for you.”

Cara let out a shaky breath, her hands fidgeting with the sleeve of her hoodie. “I-I thought you’d be upset or worried that I was talking to someone I didn’t really know…”

“We know about Jenna, sweetheart,” You said, your voice calm. “You told us about her before. We understand why this matters to you.”

Cara’s shoulders relaxed slightly, but the nervous energy still simmered under the surface. “I just… I didn’t want you to think I was trying to replace you or my life here.” Her voice wavered. “I’ve always felt so lucky to have you both, and I don’t want you to think that changes just because I found her.”

You gave her a reassuring nod.

"Babygirl," Natasha said, moving over and taking Cara's hand. "You're allowed to want this."

Cara felt her chest tighten at Natasha’s words, the anxiety that had been building inside her for weeks slowly starting to ease. “I’ve just… missed her. I didn’t even realize how much until we started talking. And I want to get to know her. I want her to know me. She's a lot like me. I mean she's really great and I know you guys would like her. ”

You nodded, smiling softly. “That makes sense, Cara. We get it.”

Cara bit her lip, her fingers twisting in her lap as she worked up the courage for what she wanted to say next. “I want to meet her.”

You and Natasha shared a quick look before you turned back to Cara.

"How does that work?"

"She says she's been speaking with her parents. They're willing for us to meet if you are cool with it. They still live in New York."

"So what does that mean? How would it work?" Natasha asked.

"Her parents want us to have a family meeting, all together. They'll explain how everything works," Cara said.

You nodded, a smile pulling at your lips. "Okay, then. That sounds reasonable."

"Are you sure?" Cara's eyes darted between the two of you. "You're not just saying that because I'm being a pain in the ass, right?"

"You're not," You assured her.

"Okay." Cara gave you both a grateful smile, her shoulders slumping as the tension eased from her body. "Thank you."

You returned her smile, reaching over to take her other hand.