#it HAS to be temporary. everyone always promises its temporary. it has to be temporary.
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im startin to think i might actually kill myself
#cw sui thoughts#100% of the time when i say im gonna kms i am jokin but it is also a genuine outlet for me like ik youre not supposed to joke or smn but#even when i didnt joke about it i thought about it multiple times a week#but for the past few years i have thought about it so much and life has gotten so much worse sometimes i feel like im joking on it#and just sayin it alleviates it a bit. like the pressure of it. i wanna die so bad but i cant just Say that#but this month. i have seen the end of my life for years but i think i am finally reachin the end#ive missed every opportunity to turn out of this dead end and i think there are none left#i think im outta options. ive been tryin to be positive but i just dont think i can do this for another year. im pretty sure my life is ove#i cant do this. i cant pull myself through this anymore. the support i do have isnt enough and im going to die and theyre going to be sad#and its going to be my fault. everything has always been my fault my whole life has always been all my fault and even after i die#everything will be my fault. im a terrible child a terrible student a terrible citizen and a terrible friend and im a terrible person#and i dont want to be. but i dont have any energy. i dont have the energy to be anything anymore and all i can be is a terrible#terrible disappointment. ive been a livin achin wound for my whole life and now im goin to infect everyone i love with it.#i wish i didnt have to die. i wish id simply never had the nerve to exist at all. i wish i could take back every single breath.#idk how much time ill be able to squeeze outta myself but i have to stretch it 6 months. if i can just stretch it 6 months maybe i can#idk. at least hang out with someone one last time.#i cant forgive myself. no one will be able to forgive me and i dont and wont ever deserve forgiveness.#acceptance weighs heavy on my heart. i will not be forgiven by anyone. i am going to leave and i am going to tear down everyone i care abou#and i can not be forgiven for it ever#i am going to die#im sure ill be fine. i think im lyin but it hurts less if i think that this is just a dark time for me#just temporary and one day itll ease up enough that ill have enough energy to take a step into a nicer life and hold on when the next bad#thing happens#its just temporary its just temporary its just temporary#it HAS to be temporary. everyone always promises its temporary. it has to be temporary.
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The Eye of the Hurricane [38] - The End
A.N: The last chapter! ❤️ Thank you so much for your wonderful support throughout the story my loves, you're amazing! ❤️
Summary: The heir becomes the boss.
Word Count: 3537
Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader
Warnings: Violence, crime, blood, explicit language, dysfunctional relationship, mentions of sex. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.
Series Masterlist
The week after you almost died was chaotic, and not even for the reasons you had assumed earlier.
Needless to say, everyone in your life was out for blood, but the problem was that there was a specific lack of people to take revenge on.
“Do you think it’ll go back to how it used to be?” you asked Bucky as you turned your head to inspect your nose in the hallway mirror while he kept pacing in the living room, gritting his teeth while he typed something into his phone.
“We should kill every person who worked for Ian.”
“Because Sarah said it would go back to normal but it doesn’t feel like it.”
“I bet Ryan can give us a list, and—”
“Ryan already killed his inner circle that night.”
“There has to be some people left,” Bucky insisted and you heaved a sigh.
“Bucky, you can’t kill people just because they worked for Ian,” you said. “Most of them switched sides already—”
“That’s not enough, and once a traitor always a traitor.”
You rolled your eyes and made your way to him to stop his pacing, cupping his cheek. He took a deep breath, his blue eyes locked in yours as he clenched his jaw like he was trying to keep it together.
“Buck.”
“They hurt you.”
“Not really, the ones who hurt me are dead,” you said. “I killed one of them, Ryan killed the rest.”
“I need to do something,” he insisted through his teeth. “I…it’s bad enough that I let you get hurt—”
“You didn’t let me get hurt.”
“I was supposed to protect you,” he said. “Not…not you or Ryan.”
“I’ll let the next person who tries to kill me know about that.”
“Charm.”
“Bucky,” you said with a small laugh. “I’m fine. I promise.”
“Your nose is broken,” he reminded you. “There are stitches on your head.”
“Both of those things are temporary,” you assured him. “Seriously. Besides I…you know, it’ll be a good look for the sit down tomorrow night. I’ll look badass.”
He opened his mouth to argue but you both turned your heads when someone knocked on the door.
“Come in,” you called out and the front door opened before Ryan stepped into the apartment, his hands clasped behind him, his back completely straight in the perfect soldier pose.
“Ma’am,” he said. “Mr. Barnes.”
“Ryan, hi!” you said. “You’re back already?”
“Yes ma’am,” he said before stealing a look at Bucky and you waved a hand in the air.
“You can say whatever you want to say in front of Bucky.”
“When I asked to have the morning off, I took the liberty of visiting Mr. Ian’s warehouse,” Ryan said, making you tilt your head.
“He had a warehouse?”
“Yes ma’am. I wanted to make sure we have cleaned out everyone who might still support him or pose a threat to you, so…” he trailed off and pulled out a flash drive from his pocket, extending his hand. You took it from him, then heaved a sigh.
“Anyone we know?”
“I didn’t check what’s inside, ma’am,” he said. “The only reason why I didn’t say where I was going was because I wasn’t sure if there was anything inside that warehouse, but there was. We found it in the safe.”
“We?” Bucky repeated and Ryan nodded.
“One of my trusted men, sir, he can crack open any case.”
You pressed your lips together as you plugged the drive into your laptop, then clicked on the first file and let out a breath, staring at the screen.
“That fucker…” you murmured. “Ah. Well now it makes sense.”
“What?” Bucky asked and you licked your lips.
“Check out the name here.”
Bucky came closer to see the screen, then raised his brows.
“Should’ve known,” he muttered. “If there was going to be anyone HYDRA had its claws in, it’d be Ian.”
“I didn’t think he was this big of an idiot.”
“Did you know he was making deals with HYDRA?” Bucky asked Ryan who shook his head.
“No sir, I wasn’t allowed in most of the meetings. Mrs. Barnes saw it before.”
“Yeah, he kept him outside,” you said. “Figures. Oh, my dad will hate this.”
“Will you tell the others?”
You paused for a moment, then shook your head.
“No,” you said. “This stays in the family—that includes you as well, Ryan.”
Ryan bowed slightly. “Of course, ma’am.”
“Will you give us a moment please?” you asked him and he nodded, then walked out of the room. You turned to Bucky, tapping your fingertips on the kitchen island.
“This is how they had all those attacks on everyone’s territory—everyone’s but ours,” you told him. “That’s how Ian knew it wasn’t HYDRA, but us.”
“I guess he’s lucky you killed him already,” Bucky said. “This is betrayal. People would be racing each other to kill him.”
“Working with HYDRA though?” you insisted. “That doesn’t just mean betraying others, it means betraying the family. Forget the other bosses, my dad would kill him if he heard about this.”
Bucky grinned. “That argument should come in handy. This afternoon.”
You shook your head.
“I am not looking forward to that,” you murmured. “Especially with my aunt there.”
“She’s still here?”
“She’s leaving the city today, apparently,” you said. “I doubt she’ll go without giving me a piece of her mind first.”
“Want me to come with you?”
“No,” you said. “You have your own stuff for preparation for tomorrow, to—”
“Don’t worry about that,” he cut you off. “There won’t be anyone against you being there, we already know that.”
“Wouldn’t hurt to make sure.”
He nodded his head and came closer to carefully kiss you on the top of your head while you pocketed the flash drive, then looked up at him with a small grin.
“Seriously, how bad do I look?” you asked him and he let out a chuckle.
“You look breathtaking as usual, baby.”
“You’re such a liar,” you said with a small push to his arm and he caught your hand, entwining his fingers with yours.
“Hey,” he said. “I’m serious. Broken nose or not, you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen my whole life.”
You could feel a smile curling your lips.
“And not fucking you until you get better will be torture,” Bucky added, making you scoff a laugh.
“So romantic.”
“Only for you,” he played along and slapped your butt. “Come on. We both have things to do, boss.”
“Aw I can get used to that,” you said, still grinning, then walked out of the apartment. Ryan was already waiting for you by the entrance, and straightened his back as soon as he saw you.
“Ma’am.”
“Let’s go pay a visit to my dear father,” you said and walked to the elevator with him following you.
*
Your father had been furious when he saw you at the hospital, so much that you thought he would’ve killed Ian if you hadn’t.
Well, technically Bucky would kill Ian before him but…
So you knew he was going to be happy to see you but you weren’t so sure if the feeling was gonna last when he heard what you were going to say to him.
Your aunt was on her way out, loading her suitcases to the car when your car pulled over in front of the house and you heaved a sigh, then gritted your teeth. It wasn’t that you didn’t see this conversation coming, yet that did nothing to put you at ease.
“Here we go,” you murmured as the driver opened your door for you and you stepped out, your aunt gritting her teeth the moment she saw you.
“Auntie,” you said and she held up a hand, gesturing you to be silent.
“Don’t,” she said. “Don’t call me that.”
“Is father inside?”
“You’re a monster,” she spat and you pursed your lips together.
“He was going to kill me,” you told her. “You know the rules, and so did he. Don’t blame me if he was too stupid to win.”
She eyed you up and down, making Ryan take a step closer but you motioned at him to stop.
“It’s fine Ryan, thank you,” you told him before your aunt let out a hysterical laugh.
“I see you surround yourself with traitors already.”
“Ryan is my right hand auntie, you need to respect him,” you told her, making Ryan give you a proud smile before his expression turned stony again upon turning to look at your aunt.
“I do hope you and Bucky have a son,” your aunt said through her teeth. “Because trust me, I will take him away from you.”
You managed to keep your expression completely calm despite the small shudder running down your spine.
“You can try,” you told her and she scoffed, then got into the car and slammed the door. You shook your head slightly, climbing the stairs to walk through the front door.
“I apologize on her behalf, Ryan,” you told him and he shook his head.
“Don’t, ma’am,” he said. “You have nothing to apologize for. She’s a mother, it’s normal that she’s angry at me.”
“Well if my mother were here, she would tear her apart for what her son tried to do,” you muttered as you stopped by the door to your father’s office. The men waiting there nodded at you and you knocked on the door, then peeked your head in.
“Dad?”
“Oh sweetheart, come in!” he said, standing up from his seat. “I was just thinking about you.”
“Good things I hope,” you muttered, letting him kiss your cheek before you sat down on the armchair across from his desk. He filled you a glass of whiskey and put it in front of you, then filled his glass as well and went behind his desk to sit down.
“Any word on that traitorous bastard?”
“Ethan?” you said. “Not yet but any day now. We know he’s not in Chicago, a couple of Bucky’s men are already waiting for him at his hometown and…” you trailed off. “It’s honestly just a matter of who will get him first, you or Bucky or Rhett.”
“Do they know not to kill him yet?”
You grinned. “Oh trust me. Both Bucky and Rhett have a lot of…creative ideas.”
“So do I,” your father murmured and you pulled out the flash drive from your pocket.
“Speaking of traitors,” you said, “You might want to know Ian was working with HYDRA.”
Your father stared at you for a couple of seconds in silence. “What?”
“That’s how they got in,” you said. “And that’s why our territory was never attacked and everyone else’s was.”
“Our territory was attacked.”
“Not by HYDRA.”
“We don’t—” he started, then raised his brows, heaving a deep sigh. “You.”
“Well Ian is dead now so it doesn’t really matter,” you said. “But yeah.”
“I asked you and you said no.”
“Can you blame me?” you asked. “I didn’t exactly have leverage yet, nor had I proven myself. I will use the names in the file to track them down, I figured you wouldn’t want anyone else to get involved, especially the other bosses.”
“You thought right,” he said. “Especially the sit down tomorrow…”
“That’s actually why I’m here,” you said, your heart beating in your ears and he pulled his brows together, then scoffed a laugh.
“Sweetheart, obviously I will name you my heir tomorrow.”
You took a sip of the whiskey, then heaved a sigh.
“Yeah I figured you’d say that,” you said. “That’s the problem.”
“The problem?”
“I didn’t almost die just so that you can name me your heir,” you said, looking him in the eye. “That’s not how it works. You know how cage fight works, I’ve been through worse. Being named heir is not going to be enough.”
He frowned at you as if he was confused before a look of realization dawned on his face and he leaned back on his seat, his eyes locked in yours.
“Is this a hostile takeover?”
You shrugged your shoulders. “Doesn’t have to be hostile.”
A silence fell upon the room while he stared at you, then let out a breath.
“And you think you’re ready?”
“I know I am.”
“Just out of curiosity,” he said. “What would happen if I refused?”
“You can refuse,” you said, your voice completely calm. “But it’s not going to change anything. I have the support from other bosses, I have proven myself and your latest choice of heir fucked over everyone, which could backfire on you. So, I’m sitting at the head of that table tomorrow, whether you like it or not.”
An impressed smile curled his lips before he heaved a sigh, then stood up and opened up his arms.
“Come here,” he said, making you frown.
“If you’re planning on stabbing me father—”
“Don’t be ridiculous, come here,” he said and you got up from the armchair, then stepped into his embrace. He hugged you tight, then pressed a kiss on your hair and pulled back to look at you better.
“My little girl all grown up to threaten me,” he said and you shrugged your shoulders.
“I mean I’d rather not, to be honest with you,” you muttered. “I’m just saying, there’s family and there’s business. I’m threatening the former boss right now, not my father.”
He hummed, still smiling softly.
“You have one thing right, you have proven yourself, over and over again,” he said. “Even before that bastard pulled a gun on you. I’m sorry for not seeing it sooner, Y/N. That right there was exactly what I was trying to protect you from.”
“Yeah, protecting me from business,” you said. “You should’ve known I wouldn’t have let him take it from me, dad. One of us was going to end up dead either way.”
That made him clench his jaw. “I didn’t think he’d have the guts to do that to you,” he said. “That will be on my conscience forever.”
“It shouldn’t,” you said. “I mean yeah you fucked up but you know, there’s no one who doesn’t take me seriously in the business after that whole fight. I doubt it’d have the same impact if you handed it to me, so…it’ll work in my favor.”
“Will you forgive me?”
“My father has nothing to worry about,” you told him. “And the former boss is paying for that mistake with me replacing him. Hostile takeover and all that.”
He let out a chuckle, then hugged you again.
“Perhaps I’ll buy another boat,” he said. “I should ask George what he does with all the time he has in retirement.”
A laugh escaped from you and you held up your hands. “Hey, if you want to be a cliché, I can’t stop you,” you said and checked your wristwatch. “I need to go and meet Bucky, we’re having lunch.”
“Alright,” he said. “Tell him I said hi.”
“Of course,” you said and kissed him on the cheek, then walked to the door before turning to look at him. “And thank you.”
“For what?”
“For not making this harder than it should be,” you told him and he shrugged his shoulders.
“Well,” he said. “You’re the head of the family business now. It’s your rules, the rest will follow your orders. Including the former boss.”
You let a smile curl your lips, then walked out of the office and passed through the hallway to step outside, your heels echoing on the marble floor.
*
There had been numerous sit downs at this place but this was the first one that you would attend as a boss, so needless to say you were way too impatient.
Ever since you had stepped a foot in your father’s house, you couldn’t stop tapping your foot. The guests were beginning to arrive one by one, and you desperately needed a drink but you knew you had to keep a completely clear head so you couldn’t exactly drink what the rest were drinking.
“Here,” Bucky said, touching the small of your back with one hand while giving you a glass of water with the other.
“Thank you,” you said and he pressed a kiss on your temple, making you frown and pull back. “Nope.”
“What?”
“This is a work meeting,” you told him, nodding at Clint and Natasha by the corner of the living room while Tony talked to your father and Bucky frowned.
“They already know we’re married, Charm.”
“Well we can’t be too lovey-dovey!” you whispered through your teeth and he chuckled.
“Babe, it’s going to be fine,” he said. “You’ll do great, I promise.”
“Right?” you felt the need to ask and he nodded.
“Yeah.”
“I love you, you know that right?” you asked and Bucky smirked.
“I love you too,” he said. “And you’re not going to war. It’s your first meeting as a boss, but it is still a meeting.”
You nodded your head, taking a huge sip of your water and turned your head when you heard the familiar chatter. Sarah and Becca walked into the living room, making your jaw drop.
“Hey,” Becca said as soon as she reached you. “Girl talk Buck, beat it.”
“Nice to see you too,” Bucky told her with a roll of his eyes, then turned to Sarah. “Hey.”
“Hi Bucky. Sam and Steve are in the hallway.”
“Great,” he said and walked away from you. You pulled Sarah into a hug, then pulled back to hug Becca.
“Oh my God,” you said. “What are you both doing here?”
“Well it’s your first day on the job,” Becca said. “You know, emotional support.”
“What she said,” Sarah said. “And I figured you’d be nervous, so…”
“I was,” you said with a smile. “Guys, you’re amazing.”
“I even brought a cactus,” Becca said. “Apparently that’s what people get people when they start jobs, who knew?”
“They usually get them flowers, Becca,” Sarah said and Becca waved a hand in the air.
“I haven't worked a day in my life in case you guys forgot,” she said. “Oh and Leila said ‘kick everyone’s ass’.”
“Tell her I said thank you,” you said and took a deep breath. “It’ll go well, right?”
“It’ll go great,” Sarah said, lifting your chin a bit to check your nose from the side. “It is healing nicely. The stitches too.”
“Thanks to my awesome doctor,” you said with a smile and Becca looked around.
“Your bitch of an aunt isn’t here then?”
“Nope,” you said. “She left earlier.”
“Without making a scene?” Sarah asked, disbelief apparent in her tone and you shook your head.
“Of course not,” you said. “She…she told me something.”
“What?”
“That she hopes Bucky and I have a son,” you said. “So that she can take him away from me, the same way I took Ian away from her.”
Sarah rolled her eyes and Becca raised a brow.
“Oh please,” she said. “She does know that when Bucky and you have a child, that child will be like, the most protected heir in the entire world, right?”
“I guess,” you said and Sarah frowned.
“You can’t let that get to you,” she said and you shook your head again.
“I’m not,” you said. “That’s not it.”
Becca pulled back slightly, then eyed the water glass in your hand.
“Please don’t tell me you’re pregnant,” she said, making your eyes widen.
“No!” you said. “No, I’m just not drinking because I’m trying to keep my head clear, it’s my first meeting with everyone else as a boss—no, I’m just worried I guess.”
“I agree with Becca,” Sarah said. “First of all, that child will be the most protected heir in the city, with your people and Bucky’s people. Second of all, who’s going to take your aunt seriously?”
“No one,” you admitted with a small laugh. “Yeah. Like I said, I’m just worried.”
“Don’t be—” Sarah started but you heard Ryan’s voice by the door.
“The meeting room is ready,” he said and everyone walked out of the living room one by one. Your father gave you a soft smile and you smiled at him back, then turned to Sarah and Becca.
“Wish me luck.”
“You got this,” Sarah said and Becca squeezed your hand.
“You were born for this,” she told you. “Go get ‘em tiger.”
You let out a breath, then made your way out of the living room to the meeting room before you stepped inside, your heart beating in your ears. Bucky was walking to his own seat and you brushed your hand against his as subtly as you could while you walked past him. He winked at you before sitting down as well, making you bite back a smile.
You got this.
Becca was right. You were born for this.
You took your seat at the head of the table, Ryan approaching to place a file in front of you and you cleared your throat, then lifted your head to look at everyone around the table.
“So,” you said, your voice completely calm. “Shall we begin?”
The End.
#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#mob!bucky barnes#mob!bucky#mob!bucky x reader#mob! bucky#mafia!bucky barnes x reader#mafia!bucky barnes#mafia!bucky#mafia bucky barnes#mafia bucky x reader#mob bucky barnes x reader#mob bucky barnes#mob bucky x reader#mob bucky#mob boss!bucky#mob boss bucky barnes#mob au#mob!au#bucky barnes x you
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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.
------
Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer
#Pedro Pascal#Pedro Pascal character fanfiction#Pedro Pascal fanfic#Oberyn Martell#Oberyn Martell x you#Oberyn Martell x reader#Oberyn Martell x female reader#Oberyn Martell x f!reader#Game of Thrones#Oberyn Martell x Ellaria Sand#Spooktober 2024#Sugar Daddy Oberyn
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ENTANGLED IN YOU— WHEN WILL MY LIFE BEGIN?
ways to help, daily click, do not support neil
ellie williams x reader
a/n: this actually isn’t the best but i’ll post it now and edit it later :D let me know what you think
tags: @astralnymphh
masterlist
…
once upon a time there was a beautiful princess who lived a castle…
okay maybe it was an abandoned apartment complex, and maybe she wasn’t a princess, but that isn’t the point of our story. our story focuses on how fate is inescapable.
“flower! let me up.” the doctor calls. you look outside of your broken bedroom window and quickly rush to the main room where there is a lever. you then, twist it with all your might. this triggers a series of reactions going downward which opens a space in the wall for the doctor to walk up.
this was a daily routine. doctor would go out and forage for supplies and food while you tidied up your “tower” as you called it. it wasn’t much but it was home and helped protect you from the outside world.
many years ago an outbreak occurred causing a sickness in the people of the world. doctor says it was terrifying to see. disfigured faces as a parasitic virus took over their minds.
but you were special.
you were born a few years later in a hospital doctor had been working in at the time. your mother had been seeing doctor for months and she was finally ready to deliver you. then suddenly, there was a break in. the infected monsters stormed through and bit your mother as you were being born. in a panic, doctor wrapped you up, ran as fast as she could until she found this abandoned building, and promised to always keep you safe.
she waited to see if the affects of the bite were passed onto you, and gratefully reveled in the fact that they did not. she still continued to watch you carefully. just in case. then, one day while cleaning up, she turned her head for a moment and you’d been scratched by an infected that had found its way inside the building.
you wailed and so did she before she realized that you were not turning. days began to pass and you still hadn’t turned. you were completely fine other than a small scratch on the back of your neck.
doctor rapidly got to work. after running various tests she used your blood to create a cure. it’s temporary against the infection, but it helps keep it from doing extensive damage. it gave those who were previously hopeless a reason to be hopeful.
she was excited about the results and prepared to share them with the world.
once she’d gotten in touch with the others in her field, they said in order to make a viable cure for everyone you would have to die, which she did not agree with.
so she rushed back to the tower, closed the doors, and swore to never let you leave out of fear that others would hurt you. even after you’d grown older. even after a cure had been fashioned years later from a mystery flower. even after the apocalypse had been declared over and it was semi safe to leave again. you would never leave. and she was confident that you’d never try to, until…
“are you excited for you birthday tomorrow, flower?” doctor asks as she walks into the lounge area. you were sat in the corner knitting a scarf out of yarn you’d fashioned from leaves. “i am actually. i’m more excited about the possibility of-“
“leaving to see the festival?” she finishes your sentence. you huff. “doctor, please. i look outside of my window and i see people laughing and lights shining just down the mountain. i know that a settlement is out there. have you still not checked it out?”
“no i haven’t checked it out and i’m not going to. i told you it’s probably fires started to control a large population of infected.” her tone is stern. she has checked already, it is a settlement.
you slump down in a chair next to her, hands clasped together. bottom lip sticking out. “please. please! atleast promise you’ll check on your next trip.”
she looks over at your face and smiles. “fine. we’re running out of supplies anyway. i’ll check on my trip tommorow, would that make you happy?”
“very.” you respond, smiling.
♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧
a loud clanking is heard from underneath the tower followed by a string of curses. “doctor?” you call out. your heart begins to race. what if she’s hurt again and she needs help? or more of the cure? you quickly turn the knob and listen as her footsteps get closer.
then you hear her speak and it is definitely not doctor. you hide behind the entrance, a frying pan in hand as it was the closest thing to you. you watch as the woman steps up and looks around. breathing heavily with dirt all over her. before she can turn around, you knock her hard on her head.
#bunnie can speak? ☆#ellie williams#・❥・ bun’s sweet ellie#ellie williams x reader#bun’s asks ꕤ#bun’s anons ˖°🦇ִ ࣪𖤐#ellie williams headcanons#ellie williams imagine#ellie williams fanfiction#ellie williams tlou#ellie williams x you#ellie williams x y/n#wlw fanfic#sapphic#fanfic writing#wlw fantasy#wlw imagine#princess au#beforeimdeceased#© abbysvictim#lesbian fanfic#wlw writing#wlw fiction#tlou au#tlou fanfic#tlou headcanons#ellie williams headcannons#ellie williams the last of us#tlou fic#wlw pining
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Generosity
Cooper Howard (The Ghoul) x F Reader (NSFW)
Summary: The Ghoul has never been one to refuse a lady in distress.
Warnings: Discussions of past domestic and sexual abuse, dacryphilia, dubious consent, biting, use of “daddy,” dirty talk
Everyone go bow down to @lilkrissmuffet and her delicious prompt idea
Gif by @melodyoffire
The Ghoul ought to thank you. You’re an easy bounty to track. In your obnoxious blue and yellow jumpsuit, you stick out like a sore thumb among all the lifeless tans and browns of the wasteland. Shivering and scared, you’re a prey animal in a foreign land inhabited by predators, and you just ran headfirst into the worst of them.
Despite the split lip and jaundiced bruise over your eye, you’re a pretty little thing. Stupid too; you turn and bolt like a startled whitetail when you spot his twisted face and the hand cannon nestled in its holster. The Ghoul doesn’t blame you, though. If he were in your shoes, he’d run too.
The lasso hooks you around an ankle and yanks your feet out from under you. You crash to the ground in a flurry of sand and flailing limbs. A few, quick tugs and you’re thrashing and wailing at his feet. A knife to the throat and a whispered threat to cut out your tongue and fry it up for lunch quiets you down in a hurry.
“P-Please, please, no, I c-can’t go back, please, you don’t know what they do to us down there!” They always beg. Though, none of them beg quite as sweet as you.
The Ghoul turns his apathetic gaze to your watery eyes. Your lips are chapped, the bottom one trembling as you struggle to keep your blubbering contained. Tears streak through the dust that has collected on your sunburned cheeks. Before now, you probably never went a day without a shower.
“Honey, you got no idea what I know.”
On the horizon, thunderheads build. The ominous rumbling and static that fills the air tell the Ghoul it will soon be too dangerous for you to travel. The muscles in his face flex as he works his lower jaw back and forth. If it’s not one fucking thing, it’s another.
Rain pummels the ancient shingles of the ramshackle house, your temporary accommodations for the evening. In the corner, you sit huddled and trembling, your sniveling audible in the lulls between cracking thunder. Flashes of lightening glint off his blade as it slides across a whetstone.
From under the brim of his hat, the Ghoul watches you square your shoulders and inhale a fortifying breath. Here comes the bargaining.
“Excuse me, Mr…?” He says nothing in response to your timid question. A head tilt and a quirked brow are the only indications he gives that he’s listening. Voice quivering, you try again, “Um, I-I know there’s probably a reward for…for bringing me back—
“Yer husband’s offerin’ a handsome sum of caps for yer safe return. So, unless ya’ got double that stashed in that lil’ uniform a’ yers, ya’ can shut yer trap.” The Ghoul sees the tears welling up in your eyes from across the room. Now the sob story….
“Please! Please just listen. They…we’re used like chattel down there! He, my-my husband…” you spit out the word like it’s poison, “…hurts me. Hurts me all the time. I’m not the only one, there are other wives, others he hurts. I’ll-I’ll do anything not to go back, please. I don’t have any caps, but I’ll do…I’ll do anything.”
The promise of that last word hangs in the air, thick and heavy like the humidity from the thunderstorm. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to understand what you’re offering. If he were a weaker man, or if he cared even a little for your predicament, perhaps he’d take you up on your “generosity,” but pussy doesn’t pay for chems.
“That’s mighty generous of you, sweetheart, takin’ pity on a lowly Wastelander like myself.” The Ghoul’s tone drips with sarcasm. He revels in the way you stumble over your apologies, your ‘No-that’s-not-what-I-meants.’
Casually, he adjusts his position, the hand holding the knife draping across his bent knee so he can more comfortably observe your floundering. Admittedly, the desperate tears pouring down your face are beginning to stir something deep in his belly. It’s too easy to imagine how you’d look under that vault suit: So much supple, unmarred skin begging to be bruised….
You’d offered, the Ghoul supposes. He isn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Besides, what the fuck else is there to do around here?
How you ended up beneath him, nearly bent in half and taking him up to the hilt is all a bit of a blur, but it’s too late now to question things. You’re wet and mostly willing, gripping him so tight it almost hurts. You were a fantastic little actress—probably have to be with your home life being what it is—mewling like a kitten just how most men would adore, but the Ghoul isn’t most men. A “performance” isn’t what he had in mind.
Now, you scream for real. Your nails dig into the gnarled flesh of his shoulders and fresh tears wet your face as the Ghoul grips you behind the knees and jackhammers into your suckling hole. “That’s more like it, sweetie,” he urges, his voice clipped and hoarse. “Keep cryin’ for me.”
His teeth find the soft skin of your neck and the urge to sink them in deep and tear your throat out pulls a growl from his chest. However, you’re worth a lot more alive. The Ghoul settles for sucking a purple bruise onto your flesh instead. You taste like salty sweat with barest hint of familiar floral perfume.
“Oh—god, god, D-Daddy don’t stop—
You choke on your words when you realize what you said. He chuckles low in his throat when he feels the embarrassed heat rushing to your face. “Now who told ya’ t’call me that?” he teases.
Furiously, you shake your head and stammer, “I’m-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—
“No, no, baby, I never said I didn’t like it. Let’s hear it again. Tell Daddy how good that lil’ pussy’s feelin’.” Your needy whine makes him groan and renews his desire to fuck orgasms out of you until you pass out.
He does, almost. He fucks you until the downpour outside tapers off into a light sprinkle, until you’re sore and drooling into the dirt. He fucks you until dark bruises in the shape of his fingers bloom along your hips and your blood dries on his lips because he couldn’t help but have a taste of your sweet skin. He fucks you until he has no choice but to pull out and paint your inner thighs with spend; he’d pump you full but he has no desire to share his last bag of Radaway.
Sated and feeling merciful, the Ghoul lets you sleep off your fucked-out stupor until afternoon the next day. He spends the morning resting and refueling and sucking down Jet while you doze, oblivious. Golden rays of sun pour in through the holes in the rickety house frame and illuminate the gentle rise and fall of your shoulders. The word “peaceful” comes to mind as he notes the way your worried frown has smoothed out in slumber.
But, all good things….
The Ghoul stands with a groan and a long stretch before he slings the saddle bag over his shoulder. He nudges you with the toe of his boot and rouses you with an energetic, “Rise and shine, sleepin’ beauty!” You roll over and blink up at him, bleary-eyed and befuddled.
“Wha…?”
“Got a lot of ground to cover today. Make yerself decent.”
“What…what are you talking about? Where are we going?” Your confusion would be endearing if he didn’t already know what comes next.
“Well, sugar, I got a bounty to cash in on. Now, are ya’ gonna behave or am I gonna have to drag ya’, kickin’ and screamin’ through the dirt?”
“But-but last night…!”
“Last night was real sweet, darlin’, but Daddy’s got bills t’pay.”
Most men would be moved or even ashamed by the look of betrayal and rage etched in every inch of your expression.
But the Ghoul isn’t most men.
#cooper howard#cooper howard x reader#cooper howard x you#the ghoul#the ghoul fallout#the ghoul x reader#the ghoul x you#fallout#fallout show#fallout 2024#thesightstoshowyou
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late night drive (m.)
Summary -
After a stressful work day, you spend the night with two handsome men.
Pairing -
Johnny 'Soap' Mactavish x F! Reader x Simon 'Ghost' Riley
Warnings -
Explicit smut (18+ only), slight praise, usage of nicknames (good girl, sweet girl, lass, etc), Oral sex (F, M receiving), Reader has self-esteem issues and it shows heavily, slight angst.
w.c. - 6.5k
masterlist || ao3 vers.
MINORS DNI, or I'll bite your ankles. This stuff is for adults only. 18+ folks only.
You have met them both at a seedy bar set a little off to the left from the heart of the city.
Johnny and Simon. You remember them sitting at the bar, glasses half-filled with Kentucky bourbon, faint murmurs of their conversation flowing like a gentle stream between them and their hands tenderly drawing mindless shapes on their scarred skins. (as if they were writing their soft declarations of love with their fingers on each other, invisible to the eye and yet etched into their souls.)
You are uncertain how you caught their eye. You are not sure if there is something in you that they had caught in a passing glance, and decided to open their hearts (and their beds) to you for this one night as a result.
You had been there after bombing another promising job interview, pissed at your failed potential (you were an A plus student - honors call and all, until you weren’t anymore) and the dead-end job of yours that had you feeling miserable for the past three or so years. It didn’t help that any time you fiddled with your phone, you’d be bombarded with pictures of your schoolmates and college friends marrying, or going on vacations and having a family of their own - growing older with someone, anyone; their lives full and moving and vibrant with colors that usually hurt your eyes.
Meanwhile, you are just living.
A day at a time. A week at a time.
Day to day to day has always been the same. You wake up, work, cook and clean for one and you indulge in past hobbies in order to capture the joy that has somehow slipped past your fingers the older you grew. You have no furry companions you can use as an excuse to go out on a walk, no lovers to send raunchy texts to, and no friends who would abandon their children and husbands to give you company while you wallow in your eternal misery as you drink your pain away with a beer bottle with condensation settling down on its neck, leaving your palms wet and slippery.
You don’t even try to think about your family.
So there you are, an untouched glass of pink gin kept in front of you and your hands nervously raking through your oiled hair and your rumpled work outfit (a sky blue blouse paired with black pencil skirt) ostracized you further from the patrons of the bar. And then you’re approached by Johnny who eyes your colorful drink with mild interest.
Johnny with his wild mohawk and kind brown eyes and kissable lips - who wondered out loud what a pretty little lady like you was doing in a place like this (you almost snorted derisively at the casual compliment, but the fatigue had you more amenable to flattery) and then he asked you about your disheveled state, and you tell him that everyone with a job feels like this on a usually busy weekday. He nods like he understands you, and then he invites you to join him and his boyfriend for some drinks.
Who are you to refuse free drinks and such handsome company?
The conversation is freeing in a way that it allows your mind to forget that the world exists outside of this temporary, delicate bubble that consists of you, Johnny and Simon. Johnny fills the space with his warm voice, enveloping you in comfort and safety as he talks about anything and everything - he tells you that both of them are in the Army (But none of them would budge to answer any questions of yours. “If I answered that, I’d have to kill you”, he joked, but his hardened gaze told you that there is some truth to it.You decided to not let your curiosity guide you anymore.), the football game on the television hung up on the wall, the movie that came out last week, the bourbon they have been nursing for the past half hour or so (“Simon only likes it when it’s Kentucky”, he says and you understand the need for some delicacies of this life staying the same, no matter what.), and then he asks you if you’d like to eat something.
You and Johnny share a plate of cheese fries.
The fries are oversalted(the perfect drunk food, but unfortunately you haven’t even worked up a buzz with your neglected drink), and the cheese is too gooey for you to not eat without getting your hands messy. You cringe at the stickiness, and Johnny laughs at your predicament and you wonder if it is possible for radiant, burning stars to be born as mortals.
His boyfriend, Simon, does not join you in eating the food.
His face is covered by a black surgical mask, and he is mostly quiet - letting his more jubilant counterpart lead the conversation. But conversation lulls between satiating your hunger and Johnny encouraging you to drink from his glass. (“Try it, bonnie. Real booze hits different”, he offers hospitably, and then he chuckles as you sputter and choke at the liquid burning your throat. At least he’s kind enough to pat your back, and then he orders a tall glass of water for your poor throat.)
Simon shakes as he dryly chuckles at the antics of his partner, and you feel heat travel down your stomach at how rough and rich his voice sounds. You find it oddly comforting against the commotion of the busy bar tonight.
After you made a fool out of yourself, the masked man (with his dirty blonde hair and white scars that ran all over his face, only for half of it to be hidden by his black surgical face mask) is much more receptive to having a conversation with you. He seldom talks, but he doesn’t shy away from cracking a dark joke or two that almost make you choke on your own spit. His eyes are dark and intense, and sometimes when your own gaze meets his own, you find it almost impossible to look away from him - afraid that the moment you do, you’d find yourself alone and miserable at the bar again.
There seems to be a pleasant silence settling between you three, and with a warm face and heavy limbs, you lean into the warm hand that cradles the small of your back and let it gently spell something illegible yet almost affectionate into your skin, the fabric of the blouse acting as a poor guard between your sensitive body and the touch you were not aware you craved until now.
You look on with heavy eyes as the couple has a secret conversation between them with their eyes alone. Warm, lovely eyes that were scattered across the different spectrum of shades of brown. Eyes that pierced you and stripped you naked until you were nothing more than your deepest yearnings and fears. Eyes that carried a never-ending love for each other, and each other alone.
They talk in furtive glances, and all you can do is give up on deciphering their language and let yourself enjoy the circles being drawn onto your back by Johnny’s teasing fingers. (You possibly cannot expect to unfurl all of that history and love between them just because you get to be a part of it for a few hours, can you now?)
After they have made a decision and with a nod of mutual acceptance, Johnny turns back to you and you straighten up due to the sudden attention. He looks at you with something akin to desire, and you can only feel your mouth turn dry as he asks you:
“Wanna get out of here?”
They hail a taxi for the three of you.
Johnny is curious and impatient with his hands as he fondles you and leaves fluttering kisses up your neck. You should be mortified; getting frisky with a man you have known for only a few hours, in a taxi no less. But the attention makes it easier to swallow the humiliation that tries to consume your thoughts. Your back is pressed up against Simon’s side, who is all the more satisfied with watching his boyfriend paw at you like a cat fascinated with his new toy. You tilt your head back, and curse out when Johnny’s lips touch a spot that makes your knees buckle. And then you feel a hand engulf your throat, squeezing you gently and you think you might as well just forget to breathe all together.
“Such a pretty girl”, Simon whispers against the shell of your ear, and you are glad that the only source of light on your way to their place are the shitty streetlights, because you cannot school your expression into one of indifference. (You like the praise a little too much.You like it out of Simon’s mouth even more.)
After what seems like an eternity of being teased and taunted by sweet words and lazy actions, the taxi finally comes to a stop and you send out a prayer to any deity out there who might be awake at this odd hour and willing to lend you an ear, because you’re sure that this night will leave you ruined.
You get out of the vehicle on wobbly knees and Johnny is all the more willing to support you while he guides you to the apartment complex where he and Simon currently reside. Simon throws the crumpled bills on the lap of the driver, along with a generous tip for putting up with his frisky lover and the sweet girl they have taken home and for not kicking them out in the middle of nowhere late at night. Simon joins you both in the elevator, and Johnny is all the more eager to pin you against him and finally kisses you on the lips.
You moan into the kiss, your hands finally tugging on his mohawk and bringing you closer and closer to his body. (Not close enough, your body screams. Never close enough, it screams again.) His hands are all the more eager to explore every soft curve of you; restless fingers groping your breasts and making you arch into him even more.
“Fuck, bonnie.Yer so soft”, he remarks after breaking the kiss, and you can only pant at how breathless one kiss from this man had left you. You can only wonder what more he’s capable of making you feel.
You are turned around to face Simon, who looks at your crumpled blouse and your messy hair and the neediness that drips from your eyes and your swollen lips. He holds your chin and tilts it to look at him, before commanding you, “Open up, sweetheart”.
You comply without any complaints, wanting nothing more than to obey the masked man.
You open your mouth, letting your pink tongue tease your parched lips as you wet them and he pries your mouth open wider with a firm hand on your jaw. His dark eyes look down on you, and you feel as if you’re going to be sacrificed and all you can hope is that he likes the offering you have in store for him. (You you you, you offer him all of you.)
“Suck on it”, he orders and you swallow the thumb he offers you - letting you soothe your oral fixation while you impatiently resist the urge to tap your foot against the floor as you wait for the elevator to finish its ascent.
You twirl your tongue around it, wetting the finger in your mouth before you let it out with a resounding ‘pop’, a thin string of saliva connecting your soft lips and the thumb. Your eyes look up at him in reverence, pleading with him to reward you for your good behavior.
“Fuckin’ hell”, he rasps out, and he almost leans forward, almost closes the distance between you both when the elevator lets out a ring and stops on the designated floor.
Through drunk giggles and impaired body coordination, you follow the men as they lead you to their apartment. The moment the door closes behind them (locked carefully by Simon, while Johnny guides you inside), they’re back onto you - clinging to your body like you’re the anchor that grounds them in the storm of life.
And it feels nice to be needed like that, if only for a moment.
You’re on your knees on the floor as you wait for Simon to do something.
You are naked - your clothes peeled off from your body after Simon unzipped it for you and Johnny had been all the more eager to palm your breasts in his hands - warm and calloused and greedy for more.
Your blouse is discarded somewhere on the floor long forgotten.
(“Lovely tits”, Johnny had groaned as he had undressed you, and you thanked yourself for wearing a somewhat decent bra today. )
You sit waiting - a paragon of virtue and patience as you look up at the men who would be ultimately ruining you tonight. They talk in eyes again, and you feel a pang of irritation at your inability to decipher all that is said between them with just a single look.
Your arms are folded across your chest - a decision you had swiftly taken after feeling a wave of self-consciousness hit you in full force. You can feel your ankles getting numb at the posture - the pins and prickles forcing you to momentarily shift your weight from the ball of your feet to your knees, taking the lack of notice from either men as an incentive to ensure you don’t end up with numb legs while you wait for them to finish whatever secretive talk they are having without words.
Simon turns towards you and notices you struggling on your knees, and then he reaches for one of the pillows scattered near the headboard of their Californian-sized bed. He asks you gently, “Get up from the floor, lovie”, and you do, wincing as you feel the blood circulation return to your sore feet. He puts the pillow on the ground near your feet, bending down to fluff it up a bit for your disposal. You thank him for the considerate action, before assuming your position below him again - the pillow cushioning your knees and providing you much needed relief from the hard marble floor.
“Look at me, lovie”, he commands and you follow him eagerly, tilting your head up to meet his dark eyes. He looks godly, hovering above you like an ethereal deity - his scarred hands and intimidating gait only gives your body the incentive to feel the thrum of desire in your bloodstream as it flows south, making you ready for him.
For both of them.
“A little help here, Johnny?” he beckons and the other man stands in front of Simon, shielding your view of him with his back as he helps the masked man take off his shirt, and if the muffled groans are anything to go by - they’re both kissing and you cannot even see Simon’s face. After a moment, he unzips his pants and lets the garment fall down to his ankles - leaving him in nothing but a dark pair of boxer briefs.
Johnny falls down to his knees in front of him and Simon has his mask back on. Kneeling below him, he uses his mouth on his clothed cock, peppering him with soft kisses filled with drool and lust. Simon groans above him, letting his fingers card through the man’s mohawk as he encourages him with throaty noises to continue his actions. Eager to feel all of him, Johnny slides his thumbs into the band of his briefs as he slowly slides down the garment from his hips, letting it pool around his ankles as well. From where you’re seated, you can see how thick Simon is, and you cannot help the way your mouth waters at the idea of being used by him.
You snap out of your thoughts when Simon pulls Johnny onto his feet by his mohawk, forcing him to bare his neck to the taller man and you swear you can hear him whimper when Simon catches his throat with his other hand before giving it a light squeeze.
The sight before you is nothing short of heavenly.
“Eager, are we?” he taunts him, taking his breath away with just a squeeze of his fingers and he lets out a throaty hum as he eyes up his partner, noticing the semi he’s been sporting in his jeans ever since he got a taste of you.
“But it’s her turn”, he motions to you and you straighten your back as both men look back at you.
“C’mere love”, he calls out to you, and you get down to your hands and knees, willing to crawl to him if that is what it will take for him to let you touch him, feel him under your fingertips.
He shakes his head, stopping you in your tracks.
“No, bring that pillow with you too”, he orders you, “Don’t want your knees to get sore now, do we?”
You feel his hands pull at your hair gently as he brings out his still hard cock out of the confines of your soft mouth. Your lips are sheen with spit and pre-cum and the running makeup paints a debauched picture of you before these men.
So perfect. So ruined. And all theirs for the night.
You look up at him with teary eyes and longing and Simon is almost tempted to allow you to keep going, to let himself finish in your warm, soft mouth. But he has quite a night planned for the both of you(You and Johnny, Johnny and you - consuming his thoughts and mind and even his heart.), and he’d rather not finish in a handful of pumps before you.
“Don’t pout at me, pretty girl”, he chides you playfully, his chest heaving as he takes in deep breaths to soothe the fire in his lungs that you have invoked within him.
You whine noncommittally, eyes focused on him and only him - and it almost shakes him to his core how much he likes having your attention all for himself. (Greedy, greedy, greedy, greedy, greedy, greedy, greedy-)
“Gotta get you ready for the both of us, yeah?” you nod eagerly at his statement, and then you feel a pair of arms around your waist lift you up in the air and you shriek as you’re thrown on the soft mattress, bouncing lightly at the impact as your head falls back on the bed.
“Johnny!” you scream out in surprise, almost tempted to scold him for scaring you but his calloused fingers trace your curves and they tickle your skin that makes it hard for you to control yourself. You let out a soft giggle as the man hovers above you, letting his hands map out every little scar, every little mole, every little mark on your soft skin.
He grins at you, before bending down and taking your lips in a soft kiss - growling a little as he tastes Simon on your lips. Pulling away, he looks down on you again as he cages you between his arms.
“Hi there, bonnie," he whispers breathlessly.
“Hi there, handsome”, you whisper earnestly, before turning your head to the side and kissing the inside of his wrist.
“Johnny will help you get ready. Won’t you, Johnny?” Simon asks, and Johnny groans as he lowers himself down over your body till his eyes line up with the hem of your soft black panties. You exhale soundly in anticipation, propping yourself onto your elbows so your head is up and your eyes gaze into Johnny’s warm brown pupils. You let out an audible exhale when you feel his hands grab the meat of your inner thigh, before he leaves a tender kiss on it, letting out his tongue to taste your skin. Your head falls back on the pillow below you, and your hands find purchase in the luscious locks of his mohawk as Johnny lets his tongue rile you up by licking and kissing every inch of your exposed skin, avoiding where you needed him the most on purpose.
“So sweet”, his teeth lightly bite the meat of your inner thigh, and you wince at the pain before whimpering.
“So pretty”, his fingers play with the flimsy fabric covering your cunt, slowly tugging them to the side and revealing how needy you are for him. For both of them.
“Johnny, please”, you beg him so sweetly with your fingers tugging on his hair, that he finally gives in to your demands with no further ado.
It isn’t long until Johnny is fucking you with all he has.
You have your face buried sideways into the pillow and a leg propped up on his strong shoulder, the position offering him a chance to fuck you deeper that your fingers or any half-hearted partner ever has.
The pillow is wet from the sweat and spit and tears it has soaked up from you, and you bite the fluff of it, trying your best to mute your incomprehensive noises down - lest the nice couple fucking you right now get a noise complaint from their neighbours tomorrow - but to no avail.
It’s like Johnny is on a personal quest to make you scream for everyone to hear.
It also helps that Simon has taken it upon himself to fuck his boyfriend dumb, and what a sight it must be - Johnny fucking into you desperately and letting Simon control the rhythm of his hips as he fucks into him. You’d beckon that he probably has his tongue out - no man can survive fucking someone and getting fucked at the same time without letting it dumb him down like a mutt in heat.
Too bad the room is pitch black for you to witness the filthy sight.
At least the dark room allows Simon to take off his mask, even though it stings to know that you may never know the man behind the mask - may never remember the man who is giving you the best night of your life before you return back to your mundane life of spreadsheets, burnt coffee in styrofoam cups and manila folders the next morning.
You feel your legs shake - the lethal amalgamation of pleasure and exhaustion coating your bones as you feel Johnny hit the spongy spot deep in you that makes you keel and beg into the mattress for the much overdue orgasm that has been building up inside you for the better part of the hour.
He bends down, letting his tongue lick your neck and his sharp incisors drag over the taut skin as he mumbles about how pretty you sound when you’re fucked dumb. None of that matters to you right now, not when you’re this close to relief - but Johnny doesn’t oblige; either too dumbed down just like you to understand what you need, or denying you what you need on purpose - which is probably the cruelest thing he could fucking do to you tonight.
You feel another pair of fingers slide up your thighs before said fingers finally map out your swollen clit amongst the mess of sweat and limbs and Simon uses his calloused fingertips to gently rub you until you’re crying and arching your back before you slide down back into the bed, your limbs sagging with relief as you ride out the aftershocks of your orgasm.
“Fuck, bonnie”, you hear Johnny grunt out, feel him fuck you rougher and feel his hands grope your breasts roughly, but you’re far away now - floating away in a strange, hazy headspace as you hear his groans before his hips finally stutter to a close and then he slumps forward, letting the brunt of his weight fall down on you.
Simon follows him soon after, slowly pulling out from his partner with a soft ‘Fuck’.
You whine at the impact, pushing at his shoulders weakly as you urge him to get his weight off from your sore body. You sighed out when he eventually obliged, letting himself fall into bed beside you, his fingers gently playing with your messy hair. You feel his stubble tickle your face as he lands a soft kiss against your jaw, “You were so good for us, lass”.
You preen at the praise, letting his soft words and touch comfort you as you slowly feel yourself regain control of your body and your mind, already missing how you felt just a moment ago.
You can hear the running faucet in the bathroom next door, and listen to the doors creak and soft footfalls before Simon returns to the scene with a wet washcloth. He taps your knee and you part your legs obediently for him - feeling the wet cloth drag over your innermost parts as he wipes you clean before offering you a few face wipes kept near his nightstand, which you take gratefully and you wipe away the smudged makeup, smearing the ruined mascara all over your cheeks. You hear Simon sigh before he gently pries the thin wipe from your hands, taking it upon himself to help you clean up nicely. In the dim moon light peeking through the windows, you notice he has his mask back on, and you feel disappointed at how you haven’t been able to look at him. You feel Johnny’s fingers gently massage your scalp, and the tension in your shoulders leaves you promptly, making you sag into the soft mattress as he coos at you, occasionally kissing your cheeks. It’s almost enough to put you at ease.
It’s not long before the boys clean up after themselves before they join you back in bed. Sandwiched between the two men, you feel exhaustion and the afterglow lull you into a false sense of security - and you almost feel like you’re cared for.
You hadn’t been able to fall asleep, despite your best efforts. Your thoughts have been nothing short of cruel, and you only feel shame creep under your skin the more you think about how this night had transpired.
You have desperately gone home of two stranger men (who are together, no less), sat down on your knees like a desperate whore (and liked it), had gotten naked for them (and let them see all of your curves and rolls and blemishes), and let them fuck you dumb till you almost forgot your damn name.
And now you lie between them, unable to put your mind at ease and sleep away the second thoughts.
Mortification seems to be the least of your worries at the moment.
The worst part seems to be the fact that you wished for nothing more than to prolong the facade of love and gratitude they had for you when they cleaned you up, only for it to be redirected to each other as they checked in on each other with hushed whispers and soft kisses, their intermingled hands serving you a bitter reminder that you cannot overstay your welcome.
It’s them first. And then you.
You are just another body they had invited to warm their bed for the night.
You are quick to wiggle out of the bed, feeling your ears burn in embarrassment as you try your best to locate your discarded clothes on the cold bedroom floor. You find your skirt near the legs of the bed, your cotton panties not far off from there. Your blouse and bra lie near the door, and you’re almost dressed when you hear a light click and see the light of the table lamp illuminate the room in a soft yellow. Johnny blinks, still sluggish from his interrupted sleep as he rubs away the sleep from his eyes, and you stay standing, frozen in your step. You almost feel guilty for waking him up. Were you not quiet enough?
You feel like a child who got caught with her hand in the cookie jar by her mother.
“Yer leavin’?” he asks with a helpless look on his face, and you almost walk back into his arms.
Almost go back to the space they have created for you - between them.
The clock reads a quarter past three when they both offer to drive you home.
It’s not long before Simon wakes up from the commotion. (You turn around and train your eyes on the wall, waiting until you’re certain that his face is covered - having taken the hint that he would not welcome the idea of revealing his identity to you yet.) Soon enough, they’re both asking you why you’re up and leaving and the sincerity in their voices almost convinces you that they want you here.
But you use work as an excuse to go back home, and despite how obvious that lie is, Simon insists on driving you home nonetheless. (You almost turn him down, but Johnny pipes in, “There’s not gonna be a whole lotta cabs for ye to hail. Let us make sure our lady reaches home safe,”, and you feel your walls crumble slightly, feel your very foundation of self-hatred and pity shake at how he addresses you as theirs. As if you’re now a part of them, like they’ve been a part of each other for years.)
They ask you to stay anyway, promising to drop you off to your home first thing in the morning - bribing you with promises of cuddles in your sleep and breakfast in bed; promising you intimacy you’re wholly undeserving of, and you cut them off swiftly as you tell them that you’d rather be at home right now so that you can wake up later and go straight to office - no detours welcomed.
Reluctantly, they comply.
So you let them both escort you out of the apartment building and you stand with Johnny while Simon revs up his car and lets the engine warm up before letting you both sit inside. Johnny naturally assumes his place beside Simon, sitting in the passenger seat and you sit in the backseat. You almost feel apprehensive about telling them your address, but your rattled brain cannot seem to care about it - too tired and strung up to give a shit about ‘stranger danger’.
Simon types out your address on the phone and he soon follows the path - the soft hum of the engine making you succumb to the tiredness you feel and you lie down on your side, the leather seat of the car cushioning your now-throbbing head and you cannot help but close your eyes just for a moment.
After a few minutes, you hear Johnny talk about buying groceries and he asks out loud if his boyfriend would like to add anything to the list. Simon softly replies back with a few additions - whey protein, some bananas, pancake mix, shower gel and a room freshener spray. Johnny mulls over it before recalling some more things they need to buy soon. (“Dusting cloths. Manure. Oh, gotta get some stuff from the hardware store too!” “Don’t forget to get some cereal and protein bars.” “Roger that, Lt.”)
The conversation lulls. And then it begins anew.
Simon asks Johnny if he’d like to have biscuits and gravy for breakfast, and he lets out an almost disappointing groan at his atrocious food choices. (Or so he tells him.) Instead, Johnny suggests they have some hash browns. (“Gotta get that carb in for the long day ahead!” and Simon just chuckles dryly at his reasoning.)
Then, they talk some more - about work and people. About how they’d need to go back to work, and how they’d miss staying home together. About how they should get some cigars for ‘Price’, whoever that may be. About how ‘Gaz’ is vacationing in Italy with his family. About how they should have a vacation the next time they get a break that lasts them more than a week.
They hold hands - at least Johnny does, and he brings his partner’s hand to his face, softly kissing his knuckles, and that is when your curiosity wins over as you open your eyes to witness the sickly sweet scene of two men, two souls being in love. Johnny looks at him like Simon’s his entire universe - and
You shut your eyes quickly, feeling like an outsider between them both.
That’s maybe because you are one, your brain supplies you with this thought rather unkindly and you dig your nails into your palms to distract yourself from it.
The scene oddly enough reminds you of your parents when they were still in love and when you were young and sleeping in the backseat after an exciting evening at the city fair. It is far too domestic and tender for an outsider like you to intrude upon, and so you keep your eyes shut - unwilling to witness them and get your heart broken again.
As their conversation fades to silence again, you bravely open your eyes - squinting in the dark as the only source of light are the street lights outside. You witness Simon with his hand on Johnny’s thigh, his thumb drawing soft circles against the soft cotton of his black joggers. You witness Johnny humming to himself with a satisfied smile on his face as he occasionally looks at Simon with love in his eyes. Pure, unconditional love brimming in his brown, almond eyes. And when you look at Simon, his eyes reflect the same - unfiltered affection and absolute devotion; all these emotions reserved for the love of his life. His only love of his life.
It makes you sick.
Sick with yearning. Sick with the green monster of envy.
You’re so sick with it all.
This time when you close your eyes, you feel a tear drip down your nose as you let the soft whirr of the engine and Johnny’s humming act as the lullaby you needed to hear before you sleep.
You feel someone shake you softly by your shoulder when you come into consciousness.
“Wake up, dove”, you hear Simon call you, “We’re here already”.
You stare up at him as he hovers over you from outside the car. His masked face gives little away about how he’s feeling at the moment, but you feel embarrassed all the same - for intruding upon them and for sleeping in their car as they drove you home half-asleep and still in their pajamas.
You get up and use the back of your hand to wipe away any drool, snot or tears you might’ve let out while you were out like a light in the backseat of their car. The opened car door lets in the chilly night wind, and you shiver at the drop in temperature.
“Here, have this”, he offers you a windcheater jacket - and you gratefully take it and zip it up till the collar of the clothing lightly brushes your chin. He extends his hand to you, and you take it - letting his calloused palm warm up your cold fingers as he escorts you out of the vehicle. Once you’re out on the concrete pavement, you notice Johnny leaning against one of the many lamp posts scattered across your street. He’s rubbing his hands for some warmth, and the yellow streetlights act like a halo around his tousled mohawk. He’s angelic.
The steady echo of your footfalls catches his attention, and he turns to look at you with such warmth in his eyes that you falter in your steps for a moment. His kind, blue eyes look at you like you’re the moon - like you’re something familiar and he’s known you forever.
You do not know what to make of it.
“Had a nice sleep, lass?” he asks you casually, and you feel the tip of your ears warm up in embarrassment.
You nod demurely, before responding, “Yeah, I did. I’m so sorry I troubled you with escorting me back home”.
“Don’t apologize”, Simon speaks up as he rests a gentle hand on your left shoulder, before he joins Johnny in standing in front of you. He looks at you with an unreadable look, and you worry that he can see what you don’t wish anyone to notice. That he can tell.
“We had to make sure our bonnie reached her home safe”, Johnny quips, and you feel your resolve crumble just a little bit - his honeyed words coaxing you to hug him and it catches him off guard, just a little. To feel your arms wrap around his body, to feel your heart beat so fast before falling into synch with his
“Thank you”, and you mean it - for taking care of you, for making you forget your shitty office and your shitty job for the night, for driving you back home, for showing you what love is (even though it burnt you from inside to see what they have and know that you’d never have that).
You’re thankful to them for a lot of things.
You’re curled up on your side on the bed as you try to catch some sleep before the sun greets you from between the curtains over your window, but all attempts to go back to sleep fail you.
You almost wish you hadn’t been woken up. You almost wish you were still in their car, letting them drive and talk to each other. You almost wish you hadn’t left their bed - letting their rough hands gently caress her into a peaceful slumber, feeling their love for each other fill her up.
You should’ve at least gotten their number.
It was worth a shot, and if they didn’t want anything to do with you after tonight, you’d have been able to console yourself with the possibility that you won’t have to see them in the future and get taunted by the very notion that you have been all too desperate and all too needy for someone to love you.
But you didn’t, and you caress your own arm with light fingers as you convince yourself that it was all for the best that you hadn’t done anything about it.
This was all for one night. They just needed someone to warm their beds for a night, and you did just that. Wishing for it to be something more is just plain stupid on your part. They’ve loved each other for a lifetime, and you’ve known them for only a night. You cannot fathom carving a place for yourself between Johnny and Simon. Simon and Johnny.
Not without becoming an unwanted third wheel - tolerated by the couple since they’re too courteous to tell you off. Not without becoming a placeholder - a human paperweight until a better man or a better woman comes along to be where they rightfully belong. With them.
So you hug yourself tight with your nails digging into your arm, and gently rock back and forth in the same place on your bed, as you soothe yourself with empty words and tell yourself that what you did was a brave thing - and this was all for the best, even if it makes your chest feel like a hollowed out tree, empty from within.
Note -
Got inspired by the poem - 'After the Threesome, They Both Take You Home' by Sue Hyon Bae cuz it resonated with how I have always been a bystander or a temporary placeholder between friends and couples alike - always fearing that I will never be able to experience love. Started writing this fic fuelled up on my personal thoughts and projections. Then, October came and seasonal depression knocked my ass out. Got back into writing it. Couldn't handle it well, so I rushed the ending. Bon apple tit, y'all. Or whatever the fuck they say in France.
#call of duty#cod:mw2#cod#ghost x reader#ghost x you#ghost x soap#soap x reader#soap x you#ghost x soap x reader#soap x reader x ghost#call of duty smut#call of duty angst#call of duty ghost#call of duty soap#call of duty headcanons#ghoap x reader#char.soap#char.simon ghost riley#celena.writes
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The Loyal Pin Ep. 13
This episode was peak. Truly.
I needed to gather my thoughts for a while to talk about this episode because there was just so much. It's a whopping 75 minutes long, compared to the normal ~60mins that the episodes do, and they spent every minute of it cashing in on character work and payoff from the previous 12 episodes. I was pleasantly surprised because I didn't even think they would handle their breakup this well. It was so fucking good.
First and foremost this was a very Anil-focused episode, with Pin popping up here and there for some scenes but we didn't get much of her perspective - which I believe is true to the novel, and also my only "criticism" of this episode. At the same time, I wouldn't want to give away any of those minutes we spent with Anin to something else, it was really perfect the way it was.
And that is definitely deliberate. Because now that the cat's fully out of the bag, we have an open battlefield with almost nowhere to hide. And Anin has all her supporters come to see her. Her brother comes to apologize and comfort her. She visits her mother and has a heartfelt scene with her, once again making her feelings clear. Although Princess Alisa is not on board with the relationship, she still wants to support Anin - the problem is just that Anin is asking for the one thing she cannot get. Prik comes to apologize to Anin and they hug. Anan comes to see Anin again to comfort her some more. Everyone is on Anin's side, even if they don't agree with her, she has a whole following and family that just want her to be happy.
And Pin? She has no one. The only person she has, she has to sacrifice in order to not cause her harm. Within the hierarchy of the royal families, Pin's feelings, her body or even her life don't matter to anyone. The difference in scenes of Anin grieving VS Pin grieving really illuminates how alone and powerless Pin really is. A literal bird in a cage.
And that's the excellency of the episode for me: I feel deeply with both of the girls, and I understand exactly how they are feeling and why the breakup was inevitable. From Pin's perspective, her dating Anin was always going to be temporary, because she knows that if the time came, she could never defy authority and choose not to marry. As an orphan and "noble commoner", a noble of the lowest rank in the palace, she's been keenly aware of her powerlessness and rank etiquette her entire life. She's basically a servant. Although she made a promise with Anin and dared to dream about their future for just a bit, Princess Patt made her remember her place. So the only way to protect the person she loves is to sacrifice herself. Anin on the other hand is the King's favourite child, a high ranking Princess and the only daughter the family has. She was never going to marry for love, just like her oldest brother wasn't allowed to. And in this episode, the reality of that finally hit Anin. She's a woman, and although everyone loves her, in the end, she's expected to marry a man and have children, and that is the top priority for her. Her job, her studying abroad, her passion, her mannerisms and shenanigans don't matter and are always policed by the rest of her family. The power she thought she had by cleverly playing people to her advantage, and being just so damn kind and sweet that people will just naturally be on her side, that power has its limits, and she has reached it.
That's the core of the tragedy. Anin loves Pin, and Pin loves her, so ardently and deeply that they would give up everything for each other. And they know that the other is sincere about their feelings. Anin doesn't even hesitate to renounce her title, and Pin gives up her body and heart to marry Kuea. All just so the other doesn't get hurt. But that's where the two of them are different: Anin gives up her privilege, because she thinks she can be with Pin that way. No princess title, no princess responsibilities, right? But it's simply not true, and the hardest realization Anin has this episode is that she's been just stupidly naive this whole time. Pin on the other hand is extremely aware of the consequences Anin would face if she gave up her title, so the only way to prevent that is to take away what Anin wants, which is her. Anin gives up everything to not lose Pin. But when Pin gives up everything, it's only to not have Anin lose herself.
It drives me so insane how they care so deeply that they are willing to sacrifice it all but still it ends in heartbreak, no matter what. The reality of misogyny and class discrimination came in full force, something the show up to this point has only vaguely alluded to with Patt's disciplining and Pin's general worrying about, well, everything. But now even Anin is aware of her position, and her responsibilities, where before she was living in her own little dream world she thought she could expand forever and everyone would just go along.
The confrontation between Anin and Pin after Pin agreed to marry Kuea is just so good and heartbreaking. "I'm just a human, like you, made of flesh and blood and a heart that can break." Pin's betrayal hit deep and Anin doesn't understand it. Pin can only see what she sacrificed, and not that from Anin's perspective, she has given up and betrayed their love.
And truly: Anin is better than any of us. Certainly better than me. Because she is ugly sobbing and quietly fuming with anger but she doesn't lash out. Not at her dumbass middle brother, not at her mother, not at Princess Patt, barely even at Kuea. She is not petty, she is not hurting anyone, she's not even dropping any of her responsibilities as a princess. She even fucking shows up to the engagement party, performs her duties as Princess, and gives Pin back the silver hairpin. Oh my fucking God. You are so good and kind and any lesser show would have made you do something so messy and reckless but she didn't. She's minimizing the damage as best she can, while also trying to leave as much room for her own feelings as possible, isolating herself to her room above the others. Giving back the silver hairpin to Pin's golden hairpin? That's even a declaration of hope. If we can't be together, then at least let our hairpins be together, like they were destined to be. YOU ARE CRAZY!!!!!!!!!
So really, these are some (but definitely not all) of my thoughts, because there's just so much to talk about that came to fruition in this masterclass in angst of an episode. The acting was top-tier this episode from every character. You could even see cracks showing in Auntie Patt's facade - I wonder which route they will go with her. I hear exciting things about next episode and that it might focus on Pin more again, so I'm really excited! This show just gets better every week, only 3 episodes left - what will I do when it's over?!
#mono-loguing#not putting a readmore and i hope you can forgive me#the loyal pin#pin ily forever and ever and anin i love you forever and ever
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Spirit Work II
Spiritual Imposters
Before committing yourself to a deity or spirit one must communicate by learning about the entity in question, making certain they are who they say they are. Discovery of a spirit you thought you were working with is something else that leaves one feeling betrayed, upset, and oftentimes empty. Knowing the signs can really help discern things.
Mental Sock Puppets
A mental sock puppet is the result of talking to yourself and concluding self-talks as something else. The ego talks, you listen to yourself. Not a spirit. Or you establish contact but are incredibly biased hearing your thoughts. Not theirs.
It acts in accordance to your expectations.
You received no new information.
It’s only as knowledgeable as you are.
It only abides by your will. No one else.
It gives no signs unless you’re looking for them.
These are easy to get rid of if you identify the problem, recognize the problem, and let the narrative and ego go. No one needs to hear it. No one wants too either. You only end up hurting yourself and other people if things get too out of hand.
Lying Spirits
Some spirits are opportunists. They can portray an illusion pretending to be someone they’re not in order to gain loyalty and trust. They can take the form of a deity, guide, companion, or anything else that you would be most receptive to. This is why it’s good to know the basics to energy work and magick. Remember to learn different energies and how they feel to you. Remember to analyze the situation, yourself, the spirit, the environment, and working before proceeding forward. A lot of these malevolent entities like to feed off you or cause more drama that’s not necessarily needed.
Spirit Work and Continued Relationships
Veneration and Practice
This is about worshipping the deities or spirits you work with and highly depends on your practices and influences you choose to use and construct.
Most times there will be an altar setup or shrine dedicated to these spirits. Offerings of food, drink, incense, and trinkets would be a way of showing your dedication and interests of the spirits. There are other forms of interaction I have seen before.
Connection through art, music, nature, and meditation are just some of these other mediums. You don’t have to make this complex, and sometimes people have busy schedules making veneration hard to come by.
Try to keep things simple and remember it’s always okay to take a break due to circumstances. Spirits understand life comes first.
Patrons and Matrons
A Patron and Matron are deities that a devotee has a connection to. Its beyond standard devotional relations and is the main contact point for guidance and protection. It’s important to recognize that these types of relationships are built. They are not assigned.
Wicca is known for the patron and matron concept where duo theistic practices entail encouraging practitioners to seek out two divinities. The patron and matron would represent the divine masculine and divine feminine.
This is not a requirement in most practices, but in Wicca it is recognized in many circles.
Fallow Times
There are times where communication between you and the spirits can be difficult, and that’s okay. It happens with everyone. It doesn’t mean a spirit has left or that you’ve lost your ability to communicate. This feeling is temporary, and it’s a reminder that whenever this does happen, you need to take care of yourself first. Get the rest you deserve and try again later. Remember, this is normal due to circumstances – including stress, environmental factors, and any sort of disturbances one may have.
Oaths and Vows
There are many reasons why an individual would take an oath and vow. That’s between the practitioner and the spirit. This promise can come about for many different reasons, and even sometimes at the request of the spirit. However, this isn’t required if you are just working with them. It doesn’t mean control or status either. You can’t parade this around to get your way in certain situations. It doesn’t look good or help. Be aware of that. Remember why you did this, and what does it mean for you. That’s the most important part.
Displeasing Spirits
Those that are new to Spirit Work sometimes worry about displeasing the spirits. Repeat after me, deities and spirits who choose to work with you won’t get mad at you for being a human.
They will know there will be shortcomings, quirks, and variations.
You have NO obligation to listen to ANY person on this subject otherwise.
IF you do upset a spirit or make it angry question yourself as to why. Remember, communication is the key, and sometimes frictions can happen.
IF the behavior seems off and out of place, you may be dealing with an imposter. Check your sources and confirmation methods before determining the circumstances.
#energy work#pagan#witch#witch community#witchblr#witchcraft#pagan witch#beginner witch#witch tips#baby witch#energy manipulation#spirit work#deity work#deity worship#pagan blog#paganblr#pagans of tumblr#witches of tumblr#witches#spiritualism#spiritualgrowth#spirituality#spiritual disciplines#metaphysics#metaphysical#occultism#occult#esoteric
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Fairtytale!AU
It might be that Jason will always be a cautionary tale, his life twisted into something dark and terrible.
No one knows him, but there are rumors of him. A beast that haunts an abandoned manor in the deepest parts of the woods that used to make up Old Gotham before madness drove everyone to settle further away
People tell stories of him—exaggerated tales for convenience. Warnings for children to mind their guardians; threats to wayward kids to not be reckless, angry, selfish. Hurt. Something scary and horrific and violent. A punishment for criminals and a caution to travelers to stay away from the curse of the old lands lest they be killed by the beast who guards it.
Tim doesn't believe it, despite Bruce telling him otherwise.
Because Bruce has seen it for himself. It's a monster, a beast.
The mystery of why the beast takes residence at the old Wayne manor haunts him though. He can't argue that he isn't curious about all the secrets that make up centuries of darkness and frenzy. For as meticulous as the Wayne family was about documenting their history, there's precious little in regards to that time
In the time before? Plenty. Blessed land before it was cursed.
Much like the land Gotham currently has roots in. It's like the curse follows them. The warning signs being there and that being what Tim hones in on because Gotham is their home; they need to protect it.
Which Bruce is doing to the best of his abilities. He's sustaining everyone, but it's a temporary fix. He's not addressing the root of the problem. Not that they know what that is...
Which is why Tim wants to explore Old Gotham to find clues about what brought about its demise so that they can preempt New Gotham's downfall.
Naturally, Bruce refuses. Because he'll take care of everything on his own. And in typical Bruce fashion, he forbids Tim to leave.
Of course this prompts Tim to do just that.
But it's fine because of course Dick notices Tim's absence and chases after him in typical big brother fashion.
Something something, Tim unraveling the mysteries of a lost generation after breaking into the old Wayne manor and sifting through their records in the library.
Only to be interrupted by beast!Jason, who is every bit the monster everyone spins their tales about.
At which point, fade to black and back to Dick. Who is a blood witch in this AU, for reasons. Mainly for magic aesthetic, but also for story purposes. Maybe.
Something something Dick being able to sense curses. And knowing in his soul, even from a distance, that Old Gotham is something wretched. It's forsaken land, steeped in dark and twisted magic. So unnatural it's been forsaken.
Which is what Dick warns Tim of, but of course Tim does what Tim wants.
Hence: Dick giving chase when he realizes Tim has stolen away to uncover some alleged mystery.
Something something Dick tracking Tim with magic (maybe from a protection thing being broken when Jason gets to Tim and Dick being able to follow that feeling?)
Anyway, Dick ends up at the manor. He makes an exchange of prisoner so that Tim can go home safely with all his stolen relics that hold hints of the truth behind Gotham's tragedy.
And, yeah. Tim rushes home, somehow with everything gained and arguably more lost.
He promises he'll be back for Dick though. He swears it. It's an oath. ;3;
That intro background aside, thoughts on Dick coming to Tim's rescue and fending off beast!Jason:
No thoughts, just Dick being sparked and alight with magic that cuts through the dark and that eats away at the fringes of the shadows that make up the beast.
It's Dick throwing himself into harm's way to protect what's his, facing off with a monster and somehow coming across even more vicious. A beast disguised as a man.
Only to realize that it's not another monster he's confronting
Because Jason is an abomination of nightmares and terrors, more shadow than form with only hints of something other—sometimes feathers like an oil slick or matted fur or gnarled scar tissue, but all Dick sees is a child, wrapped up in curses.
And Jason might bare his teeth in a snarl, growl so low it rattles Dick's bones, but through all the dark Dick sees eyes that are distressingly innocent. Lonely, scared, hurt—
Truth be told, Dick and Tim could both escape.
Dick chooses to stay. For Jason.
But Dick lets Jason think that he has Dick as his prisoner. It's a small concession in the grand scheme. Especially since Jason generally steers clear of Dick.
Just the visual of this monstrous beast being unsettled by some weird man that strolls into his home. And that man being more monstrous in nature than the beast can even pretend to be.
Seriously, just Jason prowling around the precipice of his own home to avoid Dick because Dick is weird and intense, always with the quiet observations and piqued curiosity; the gentle smiles and thoughtless conversations and mellow humor and—
Meanwhile, Dick observing how Jason exists at extremes, both beast and boy: prowling the perimeter of the manor, then sneezing at a flake of snow that lands on his nose. Bloody jowls from a hunt, but then sleeping in a spot of sunlight within the manor, curled small with nodes of dust caught in the air around him.
And...yeah. Just Dick bonding with Jason as he sets about trying to unravel the mystery of what cursed Jason, why, and how to undo it. Which Jason probably gets defensive over (the curse protecting itself?//Jason trying to protect Dick from getting cursed, himself??)
Soft moments with Dick sneaking up on Jason and startling him. Laughter ringing through the manor for the first time in forever because Jason might be a beast, but he startles like a cat - shadows puffing up like smoke around him. And Jason might snap and snarl in response, but Dick just gives him a pat and sees through the threat to the petulance beneath
Dick pulling open the drapes and letting proper light in for the first time in too long. Jason protests and shrinks away at first, especially because of how Dick looks when back lit by dawn. But then later Dick catches Jason basking in a spot of sun, soaking in the warmth. ;U;
Jason being wary of Dick's magic. Threatened by it, even. Only Dick's magic is bright and warm and hopeful so unwittingly Jason is drawn to it. He'll chase it, curl up with it. It's kinder than the curses he's wrapped in.
But it can be vicious, too. Which Jason sees when they hunt together. And Jason has such an adverse reaction to the violence in it that Jason spooks and gets lost in his curses and it takes a long time for Dick to coax him back out.
((Jason staying scared of the darker side to Dick's magic until Dick uses it to protect Jason ;A; ))
Something something the unnatural magic that’s made Old Gotham a forsaken place wearing on Dick somehow and impacting him in some way? Magic becomes a bit more wild (frenzied) so he has to stifle himself and that being a painful thing, but he endures for Jason?? Jason realizing and trying to force Dick out but Dick won’t be kept away from him???
Additional, scattered thoughts to wrap-up a scattered AU post, whoops:
Starting with some scene where Dick is exploring the manor and comes across what can only be a dungeon. And being so struck with sadness because there are scratches through the stone and stains that smell of blood. The desperation is palpable. Dick can still hear the echoing cries of a child in the air.
Actually, that shackle still being caught around beast!Jason's foot. Dick catching sight of it past the shifting of darkness and curses and faltering because the truth is too cruel
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The blood witch bit being entirely based on an idea of 'blood weaving'. Where Dick weaves his own blood into a cloak. And when he pulls it over beast!Jason, Jason is himself again (if only while the hood is pulled up) ;U;
Ahhhhhh just the visual of them both sat on the floor with Jason peeking up at Dick from the shadows of the hood
And Dick offering a small, adoring smile despite how grotesque all of Jason's lingering abuse is ;A;
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The way Dick's heart would break when he realizes that Jason cursed himself on accident—a protection spell gone wrong
A desperate attempt to save himself from pain and torture and loneliness.
He's a specter from bygone days, lingering proof of darker times. Where Joker lingered and used Jason for forbidden magic and left the husk of him to rot.
And Jason freed himself, but there was only ruin. Because by that point Joker fucked Old Gotham over and everyone was retreating.
Maybe Jason makes it home to the manor, but he's not the boy he was. Just a beast. And Bruce Wayne (not the same as present!Bruce??) traps this boy someplace just as dark as the grave he was left in by Joker. Shackled at his ankle or muzzled and left to die alone.
Because Jason came back wrong. Or because he was a threat to Gotham and its peace.
=======
This was from an ask I got back in January about a Beauty & the Beast AU. It's months late and kind of rough, but this has been a fun AU to mull over! Thank you for the ask. <3
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‧˚₊ Everlasting
pairing: midoriya izuku/gn reader summary: watching Izuku reach the end of his life for the ninety-ninth time doesn't stop you from going back to the day you met him for the hundredth time. word count: 1.2k chapters: 1/1 contains: angst, time loop, temporary character death, established relationship, reader has a quirk, no use of y/n • ao3 link
How many times have you stared at the green fading away?
For the ninety-ninth time, the yellowed hospital curtain swayed with the gentle breeze of spring, the season of new beginnings, of life. But not for you. Over the many, many repeats, it became your nemesis—the season of endings, of death.
Fingers intertwined with his, you grazed your thumb over his scarred knuckles. Tears burned your eyes and parched your throat, but his weakened state had you in a chokehold; you couldn’t cry—not yet. So, you swallowed painfully and forced the smile he loved so much onto your face.
“I wish you didn’t have to see me go,” he said, his voice a broken whisper. "I'm sorry for putting you through this, love."
You cupped his cheek tenderly and leaned forward, kissing his freckles that looked like the constellations you pointed to whenever the night sky was clear, as he held you in his arms on the small balcony of your apartment. It was one of the first things you noticed about him when he had walked into your flower shop and nervously asked for the prettiest flower bouquet you had.
Your response was far from professional, as you laughed lightly and told him, “Beauty is subjective, you know.”
His cheeks flushed a rosy color at your words, yet his lips curled into a boyish grin. “That's...uh—” Scratching the back of his neck, he averted his gaze. “I’m not really sure what to look for. I’ve never bought flowers for anyone except my mom before. Could you, maybe, help me choose?”
“Mm, sure, but there’s a price,” you said, tapping a finger to your chin. His eyes, vivid green like a meadow in summer, grew wide. “Tell me a bit about the lady or gentleman that’s about to receive them.”
A curly lock fell on his forehead as he sighed with relief, his broad shoulders relaxing in the formal shirt he wore. You eyed his tie briefly, suppressing another chuckle at how imperfectly cute the knot was, then stepped from behind the counter and nodded to him to follow you.
As promised, he told you a bit about the lady he was about to go on a date with. "She reminds me of the sun, always radiating warmth and energizing everyone around her," was his description of her; nothing sophisticated, yet you could feel the care he put into the simplicity of his words.
Your smile didn’t falter once as you listened to him talk and answered his questions. Every day, you dealt with all kinds of people, but not many of them radiated the sincerity he did. Needless to say, your heart skipped with appreciation for this handsome stranger.
A breath of fresh air, that was what he was—one that you had never regretted inhaling deep into your lungs.
A profound love, that was what he became—one that you couldn’t bring yourself to let go of.
Your best friend, your lover, your hero, your everything now lay in a pristine hospital bed, hooked to beeping machines, surrounded by air that smelled of antiseptic and something stale, and with death creeping in closer and closer.
“Would you choose me again?” he asked, his voice losing its color.
“Always.”
With the remnants of his strength, his fingers brushed your cheek, and he whispered. “I love you. If only we…had more…time.”
It was those final words that made your whole world collapse each time, that made you grip the front of your shirt and place one last kiss on his lips, that forced your head to settle on his chest and listen to his heartbeat growing fainter.
“I love you too,” you said, asphyxiated by your tears. “I c-can’t—I can’t let go. I…I don’t k-know how. Please.”
And you begged and begged for him to stay just a little bit longer, even as he drew his last breath and his heart came to a halt underneath your ear. Even as the beeping machines screamed and screamed until they lost their sound. Even as the room became stiflingly crowded with frantic people who tried to rip you away from him.
Death never cared, never granted your wish. So, neither did you care about it, always making sure to get in its way and disrupt the natural flow.
Throughout many lifetimes, you’d heard people vow to each other to meet in the afterlife or another life, believing they were each other’s forever. You’d seen them hold onto that belief as the love of their lives faded from existence. And they almost convinced you, but you weren’t them, and they didn’t have what you had—a nemesis of a quirk that became your greatest blessing after you met him.
Unwilling to surrender to their idea of forever and viciously stubborn, you chose to stare death down in defiance, laugh in its face, and pay the price.
Every.
Single.
Time.
Gripping his still-warm hand, you whispered “I’ll see you soon”, and closed your eyes for the ninety-ninth time.
As you opened them for the hundredth time, your dimly lit flower shop welcomed you again. It wasn't long until, drenched by the pouring rain battering the windows, he pushed the door open and stepped inside. Water dripped from his clothes, his hair, and the flower bouquet you sent him off with earlier. He looked like he’d been to hell and just come back. His green eyes, once vibrant and sparkling with life, were muted and brimming with tears when they found yours.
“I realize this…this might seem odd to you, and I apologize for showing up like this, but I…I just…” He let the flower bouquet fall to the floor, allowing his hands to hide the tears that slid down his freckled cheeks. “Is it crazy to admit you were the one I thought of after she broke my heart?”
“A little, but I guess I made an impression,” you joked, and stepped away from the counter, opening your arms. “Need a hug? It’s free. I promise.”
He peeked through his fingers, giving you a long, uncertain look, before his hands lowered and he nodded hesitantly. “...If you don’t mind.”
His arms, strong and safe, wrapped around you, seeking comfort from a stranger. Your arms, weak and numb, wrapped around him, finding what he represented: home.
“Thank you,” he muttered in the crook of your neck as you patted his back softly. “Is there a way I can make it up to you?”
“You can start by giving me your name.”
Droplets of water gathered at the tips of his hair and fell on your cheeks once he raised his head. Green eyes searched yours, basking in the honeyed light of your shop. He looked at you with curiosity, while you looked at him with familiarity.
A meeting of two broken hearts—a first time and a repeat. Today, someone broke his heart, and he cried for a lost love. But today, unbeknownst to him, he stumbled upon another someone who loved him beyond reason, beyond death, beyond time.
Taking a step back, he extended his hand to you. “Midoriya Izuku.”
The smile that he would come to love once again curled on your lips as you took his hand and placed your name in the palm of it. Along with your heart and soul. For the hundredth time.
Because for Izuku, you would defy death and relive it all again.
The time loop would never be broken.
And your love would be everlasting.
#no use of y/n#izuku midoriya x reader#deku x reader#reader insert#bnha x reader#gn reader#bnha fic#izuku x reader#mha fic#mha x reader#deku angst#ugly cried while writing this
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Say Don't Go
Navigation / TLOU Masterlist
Part 2
Joel Miller x Male reader
At the very start of this arrangement you had known it was a bad idea. That Joel Miller was not the type of man to commit to someone. He may have been the type before this shit all happened but after everything he has seen and done. Its changed him and you knew that, everyone knew that.
And even though you knew that everyone who knew him either stayed clear of him or slept with him then left the next morning. Even with this knowledge it didn't stop you from getting closer to him. You even managed to become friends with the man.
You've done the one thing you promised to yourself you wouldn't do. Of course Joel was attractive, anyone could see that but when you began to have a feeling in your gut when you were around him. You told yourself that it was just because he was attractive. You could find another person to be attractive without being in love. Oh how wrong you were.
Over the course of your friendship everything about this man made you weak. When he was drunk he would be slightly more touchy, like a hand on your side or laying on your thigh. When he would immediately push you out of any danger that came your way or became very protective over you. Even when everyone knew you were capable of handling yourself.
That's not even the worst of it. The worst part is what you had avoided for the longest time because you knew that if you were to see it, you wouldn't be able to push away the feelings anymore. and that's when he is a good father to Ellie.
Every time he would have her sit beside him as he teaches her the guitar, or when he would try to cook for her. Try is the key word because you and Ellie would have to make something cause he would burn things. Also when he would be protective over her and wouldn't let anyone talk badly about her. That's when you knew these feelings weren't just temporary.
After a year of pining over him and people always asking if you too were a couple, something finally happened. Joel, Ellie and you were all hanging out in the home the three of you had. (yes you lived with them). Everyone was drinking, Ellie didn't drink much because she had plans later on that night. Joel was the one that drank the most.
After a few hours of just talking and hanging out, enjoying the time that you had where you weren't working. Ellie had stood up and threw her drink away saying "I've got to go see Dina. See the both of you later" She headed out leaving you and Joel alone.
Throughout the night Joel had began the touchiness but was respectful in front of Ellie. Ellie had known about your feelings for the man and she even had said that he acts different around you. And oh how you believed her.
The second she was out of the house he stands up from the couch to throw away his drink but before he gets past you, your hand grabs his wrist. "Joel. I think its best you stop drinking tonight. You have drank a lot and you know you're going to regret it in the morning if you continue"
He looks at you and you could have sworn he looks at your lips before he pulls away and walks to the kitchen. A sigh escapes you before you stand up and wince a bit. Months ago you had fucked your leg up and its never been quite the same since, but everyone's got something.
You begin to clean up the place and put everything away. Even go so far as to start doing the dishes. You were in the middle of drying the dishes when you feel a hand on your back. A involuntary gasp escapes you. "y/n"
His voice saying your name so close to you made your heartrate spike. Now you weren't a person who was known for swooning at anyone. In fact you hadn't done anything with anyone since before the outbreak. You may have liked someone before him but nothing ever came out of it except friendship because he had someone at the time.
Turning around after placing the glass down your chests are practically pressed up against each other now. His hand that was on your back is now on your side. "Joel don't" The rational part of your brain was reminding you that this is how he is when hes drunk.
He would never do anything if its not something the other person wants, always respectful in that way. But he flirts with anyone that's around when he's drunk and knows the person. You knew you weren't exactly special, especially when you have seen him flirt, and then heard them because these walls weren't exactly thick.
Joel looks at you and his hands begin to run under your shirt. "I know how you feel about me. I've seen it." His hands run higher and you feel the pads of his fingers brushing against your skin. "Fuck" as soon as the word left your lips your hand moves to the collar of his shirt and pull him into a kiss.
The kiss is very sloppy and yes maybe its only as good as it feels because the both of you had drank a bit. However the both of you weren't drunk enough to not be in control of your own actions. The both of you knew what was happening and so that also means that you knew it was a bad idea.
Things escalated pretty quickly and about an hour later the both of you were laying beside eachother. You were holding eachother for a little bit before the both of you went to sleep.
The morning after you woke up in the same bed. Joel's covers were wrapped around you with the morning sun beaming in through the blinds.
As you opened your eyes you thought that maybe Joel would be there beside you but when you looked over he was gone. Even when you got yourself ready there was no sign of him being here. He must have left earlier that morning.
You felt terrible, almost hated yourself for your actions last night. But little did you know that would not be the last time.
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Its been about two years since the night with Joel. You wish you could say that it was the last time. But you cant.
Joel and you had both made it a routine. At first it wasn't terrible because in the beginning he would make you dinner and be super nice to you before the two of you went to his bedroom.
He would take you out, take you to the bar and his eyes would only be you. Would even turn down people because he had you. Now the both of you never claimed to be in a relationship, because you weren't. You were friends but sometimes were something more. And even on some mornings he would stay with you for a few minutes before starting his day.
Everything was going fine. Maybe not how you wished things would go between the both of you but you have him in some way. And any way is better than not at all. Until about a year into this arrangement, he started being distant. No longer was there any dinners between the two of you. Instead you would cook for Ellie and sometimes even Dina when she came around.
Ellie and Dina would keep your mind off things as long as possible. Until they gave you a heart to heart and basically gave you a pep talk about how he shouldn't be treating you like this. Ellie straight up said "you are like his stay at home Spouse. You cook, clean, take care of him when he's drunk off his ass and sometimes get the benefits. But he Gives you nothing." Dina then made sure to sweeten things a bit saying "you would be such an amazing partner to someone that is also a good partner too"
Did this pep talk work...for a short while yes. You had told Joel about how you felt one night. He had came home later than normal and smelt lightly of perfume. However you chose to ignore it because maybe he was around another girl while working. It happens.
After you had told him everything you needed to. He said that you were thinking to much into things. He's here when he can be, that he cant take you out all the time or be home exactly when you need him to be.
His breath smelt of alcohol and so instead of arguing you just started a shower for him and went to make him a sandwich.
------
It was like this until today, when you had decided that you have had enough. You had been worn out, your body thinner than it ever has been because of the stress from taking care of him and making sure he was okay. Getting no sleep and crying had caused you to have bags under your eyes. Even your hair seemed to be shaggier and no longer was their a smile on your face. It was so bad that people even began to ask if you were okay. Hell even Tommy had came around more often to see you.
After a year and a half he still hadn't given a label on this thing. You were here when he needed you but if it was the other way around. He was too busy. He had even declined your call when you had been hurt and bleeding. You had to call Tommy because you didn't want Ellie to see you like that.
Not even then did you decide to stop the relationship. What finally broke you was when you were with Ellie, Dina and Jesse and had entered the bar. You were planning on dancing and just having fun but that all was ruined when you seen a random girl right in front of Joel.
He must have been very drunk because not often would he kiss like that in public. So you chose to ignore it for the night and you did manage to end up having a bit of fun with your friends you met up with.
However that didn't mean you forgot about what had happened. You hadn't done anything with anyone in the year you had been together. No flirting, no gazing across the room, no admiring anyone. Nothing. So that morning when you were making breakfast for yourself and for Ellie because she said she would be over in about an hour. Joel comes walking in.
He walks past and sets his things down. You stay quiet until he asks "what are you making?" its a simple question but you were still on edge. " breakfast for Ellie and I" You kept all of your sentences short because you couldn't look at him right now.
"what is going on with you this morning?" he had the nerve to ask. You set down your utensil and look out of the window not wanting to look at him. "I cant do this anymore."
"do what. exactly" he says as he relaxes more into the seat. You turn around to look at him while taking a deep breath. "This whatever the fuck this is. A friendship, relationship, or maybe its Friends that use each other every now and then when needed."
There is a pause before you laugh and shake your head. "oh no that's not right either because if we were using each other. That would mean that I was using you too. That you were just another guy. But its you using me..right? I mean nothing to you"
He looks at you and watches as you cross your arms to shield yourself as if you were putting up a wall in front of you. "What I thought you knew the arrangement"
Tears were forming in your eyes but you refused to cry in front of him. "The arrangement...the Same arrangement that you would never have a conversation about. I speculated you were sleeping with women and then I finally got confirmation last night at the bar. But the funny thing is"
Your voice breaks before you speak again. "I haven't even encouraged the idea of another person since we started this whole thing. and the real shitty thing is that I knew this whole thing was a bad idea form the very first night. But I was in love and stupid and I will never let myself fall for someone so stupidly again"
You both look at each other and it looks as if he wants to say something but he chooses not to. Then the ringing from the timer going off is what breaks you from the trance and the food is done. "Ellie should be here any second now. I'm going to get my things"
-----
Joel sits there in silence and its as if nothing has even happened to him. He looks so well while you have been killing yourself for him.
When you walk back down you have one bag in your hand because you never wanted to take up too much space so you never had many things. As you walk past the kitchen into the living room you see that Ellie is there talking to Joel. They were talking about Dina as you walked past. Ellie looks over at you noticing that you look tired, it seemed to be a permanent look you couldn't get rid of. That no sleep would be able to fix.
You grab the book of yours you had been reading that was sitting on the table. "Where you going?" you heard Ellie ask. "im leaving. Ive got to find my own place." She looks at Joel then back at you and gives you a reassuring smile. After saying your goodbyes you started to walk out of the house.
And even as stupid as it is. You stood in the doorway for a few seconds just waiting or hoping that he would tell you to not go. That he wants to make things work. That he needs you. Fucking something and when that didnt happen you were left with no other choice.
Ellie had texted Tommy telling him the news. You and Tommy were close, especially since you knew him before Joel ever came around so she thought he would like to know.
When she finished texting she looks at Joel and shakes her head. "You made a Terrible choice letting them leave like that."
(author note: I don't know if i like this too much. so i apologize. I just needed to post something today. MIGHT be a part 2...just gotta think how i want it to be)
#river13245#masterlist#angst#male reader#gn reader#joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel miller x gn reader#joel miller x male reader
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Context: just watched "Monsters are meant to be slain" and I need to rant about it. Also. This is directed at the characters and not the content creators, just wanted to make sure that I clarify that-
Okay first of all. "Everytime I'm there it turns violent." YEAH FABLE? DOES IT?? I WONDER WHY! You wanna know why?! Because you always initiate the fucking violence! If you actually wanted to talk I bet there'd be way less dead gods now. But no! You just run in head first every time, pretend to talk, don't give them time to consider and then kill them! Sir, respectfully, shut the fuck up. I don't care what you say you're doing, actions speak louder than words.
Second of all. Icarus. My guy. My man. "It's temporary." THAT HASNT BEEN PROVEN YET, MAYBE WAIT TILL YOUR DAD DELIVERS ON HIS PROMISES BEFORE GOING AND KILLING A DEMIGOD THAT YOU CONSIDER A FRIEND?! You don't know if it's really temporary yet. Nobody has proven that it is. It's a theory at best. But oh well, you made your choice. "I wouldn't, not after Momboo." Oh, but you did (: you did and if its permanent that makes you a serial killer bc you've killed three people (: and even if it's not permanent you still killed three people on purpose. Whether you like it or not, you are a murderer. Nobody told you to go after Jamie. That was your choice. Speaking of which... "I didn't have a choice." See if Fable had told you to go kill Jamie I'd understand that you did it. I wouldn't agree, but I'd understand. He didn't tell you to do it though! You could've just stayed put and hung out with your birds or gone and looked for more libraries with Ven. But you didn't. That's a choice you made buddy, and I hope you're gonna get held accountable for that choice. I really fucking do. You had multiple outs. Everyone gave you options to not side with Fable, but you are. I understand that you think you're a bad person or whatever but like if you don't try to change of course you're not gonna change, that's how that works.
Anyway. Time to continue catching up lol, I'm sure I'll ramble more in the future-
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Felt silly so I decided to write up some lore/info for Billy :)
Space Riders AU (made by @onyxonline)
SillyBilly (Formerly; The Laughing Priest) - Average critter height - He/Any
(I haven't had time to draw my boy so have some temporary gacha versions)
In order:
Off duty uniform
On duty uniform
Underwater uniform
Casual outfit
Sleepwear
Gala events
Have I thought of their powers yet? Nah
will i eventually come up with something perfect and make it cannon permanently? Probably
SillyBilly's history below (its long)
For the longest time, as far back as they can remember, Billy was under the Prototype's control. He was a high bishop in his ranks, always successful on his outings to conquer and convert and spread the word of his god and the promised 'Joyous Heaven', spreading the 'Joy' and red smoke across many planets. He did this all because, at some point, he had grown reliant on the smoke and lost his sense of self; what he knew before of his life was gone, just a subservient pawn for the Prototype. His reign as the 'Laughing Priest' lasted years, with many outside of the cult referring to him as the 'Devil Priest' due to his horns and mannerisms when confronted; his twisted humor and malicious intentions for any Space Rider that drew near were normal for them; however, there was something odd about him: he would never kill.
Unfortunately, it was never meant to last, as one day a Space Riders unit managed to apprehend him and take him back into custody. He was devastated that he lost, stripped of his mask and the red smoke he so desperately needed and locked up for his crimes and for his own safety, as it was clear to everyone around them at that time that they were not of sound mind. He was given help, against his will at first, constantly preaching on about the Prototype and suffering through the withdrawals of the red smoke, but eventually breaking free of the cult mindset, though ultimately being left with nothing, no memories, no past, just his name and his charm—something from his past that reminded him far too much of his time spent under the Prototype's control.
Over the course of a few years, he grew to know himself better, showing improvement and growth, to the point where he openly expressed his desire to help others stuck in the situation he was in, actively wanting to redeem himself for his actions and to right the wrongs in his life. Doing his best despite the prejudice or fear he might face, especially from those who know of his past. He works harder than most and puts in effort above and beyond what is required for every task he does, even if he doesn't take breaks on top of that. He manages to always wear a smile while doing work and to keep a goofy and considerate personality about him, no matter the situation. He is an asset to any crew he joins, keeping the mood high and the tension low. Once the Prototype's pawn, he is now a loyal knight to the Space Riders.
Though that's not to say there aren't any lasting effects of his past, when going out on missions, he always has to wear his mask no matter what, as any consumption (inhalation, etc.) would not end well. Despite what many may think, his humor is a way to cope with them, naturally incorporating it into his personality without a second thought. He also suffers from insomnia due to nightmares of his past, which leads him to be an avid coffee drinker, not letting on to anyone about his situation or how he's doing; only a very select few know of his conditions, especially those of the medical staff that worked on his case, and he likes to keep it that way.
(Also additionally, SillyBilly from the past in his Laughing Priest fit for those who read this far <3)
(all of this additional info is being posted to SillyBilly's UnVale page as well)
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I’m thinking about how this season THEYRE revisiting everyone’s worst traumas: (spoilers)
Bobby- his family’s death (the cruise and 7x08 from the trailer and episode descriptions)
Athena- Harry being involved in an incident at a convince store that could’ve ended up with him dead, similarly to how her fiancé died at the connivence store (correct me if I’m wrong, it’s been a hot minute)
Hen and Karen- their adoption going through, the same way it did with Nia
Chimney- Kevin and Doug (in 7x06 specifically)
Maddie- Doug (in 7x07 specifically)
Eddie- the Shannon of it all
Which leads me to like, what’s in store for Buck? I would say maybe it’s already been addressed (we’re seeing his fear of being replaced (with Eddie in 2x01 and then with Tommy in 7x04) and then his abandonment/intimacy issues in the context of his relationship with Tommy) but…
When I think about Buck’s biggest traumas, I don’t necessarily think about Abby or Ali or Taylor.
When I think about Buck’s biggest traumas I think about him getting blown up. I think about the embolism. I think about the tsunami. The lawsuit. The shooting. The lightning strike. And of those ones, I think his relationship with Christopher is a big part of why they’re so impactful. Christopher gives him the card before he throws a clot. Christopher is with him when the wave hits. Eddie tells Buck that the lawsuit is affecting Chris. Eddie gets shot and Buck finds out that not only would he have been Chris’ temporary guardian while Eddie was in a coma, but his legal guardian in the event of Eddie’s death. While Buck’s in his coma, the person who Buck feels the most guilt over leaving behind in that twisted reality is Chris (not his parents, who finally love him. Not Daniel and Genevieve who will cease to exist. Not Maddie who doesn’t know there could be better. Chris, who asks Buck for help and for the only time so far in the show, Buck has to refuse. Because that’s not his Chris. He needs to get back to his Chris, because that’s the boy he promised to always be there for).
After the truck bombing, every major trauma Buck lives through is at least partially centred around Chris, and we see how their relationship develops through these traumatic experiences.
So, pray tell, what the hell is going to happen to Buck and Chris and how the fuck is Eddie going to cope with it when we’re already watching him devolve into… madness? The death of his moral compass? Desperation? Whatever it is, it’s dark.
(I would also argue that Eddie’s biggest trauma after the death of Shannon was his s5 breakdown, so. I wouldn’t be surprised if we revisited that)
(Also also, I think Hen’s biggest trauma pertaining to the job was the civilian who she hit with the ambulance, and I would LOVE to see that touched on again for angst’s sake. Or you know: Hen’s dad, Eva, Denny’s bio dad, Karen’s journey with infertility, that time Karen got a little blown up, Hen’s med school friends, that time Hen seriously considered letting go of her morals to watch Eva die because that would be the only way to free her family of the mess she created. You know, any of these could work. All I’m saying is that ABC home of Grey’s Anatomy and 9-1-1 and its love of secret siblings and half siblings COULD throw us a curveball and give Hen a secret half sibling on her Dad’s side. For the drama)
TLDR: if we’re gonna talk about the 118’s trauma, Buck’s needs to centre around Chris. Burn down the loft with Buck and Chris in it, Tim. I dare you.
#911 spoilers#9-1-1#911 spoliers#eddie diaz#evan buckley#hen wilson#chimney han#maddie buckley#bobby nash#athena grant#karen wilson#christopher diaz#I feel like everyone probably already knows this and I’m just slow on the uptake#if that’s the case be nice to me it’s almost 6am and I have yet to sleep#911 s7 spoilers
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blood moon (author's notes)
Putting this post on my resume as proof that I am committed to seeing things through to the fucking end. It might be 2024 now but here is a finished author's note for blood moon!!
It's been long enough that the below is more of a retrospective than what we usually think of as an author's note. Some of it dates back to two or three years ago, a lot of it doesn't. With the goal of finishing these notes, I recently reread the fic in its entirety, twice, and I still very much enjoyed it. That's all I can really ever ask of a fic, so I'm happy 💕
Writing Timeline
Blood Moon was a fascinating writing problem. I always knew it was going to be a long fic, longer than I usually wrote, and I also knew that I was bad at finishing long fics. I started writing in November 2021 with the promise to myself that even if I didn't finish it, I would eventually share whatever I had. I initially planned to upload chapters without editing because I suspected that it would bog me down in a lot of small details … and I was entirely correct! So here is the 18 month journey of the fic, in monthly word counts, from start to finish:
November 2021: 18723
December 2021: (no work)
January 2022: 3591
February 2022: 2872 (finished the shadowgast oneshot, outlined the rest of the fic)
March 2022: 4353 (this is when i first thought "the ending was in sight" LOL)
April 2022: 3667 (i made the decision to edit/rewrite some chapters—at this point i had already written up to fjord meeting back up with the m9 after getting the third eye)
May 2022: 1163
June 2022: 2028 (this was my initial estimate/deadline for finishing)
July 2022: (no work)
August 2022: (no work)
September 2022: 3371 (i copied over my existing work—up to fjord and astrid's conversation—and started a major edit/second draft)
October 2022: 1228
November 2022: 2278 (posted the first chapter to ao3)
December 2022: 2144
January 2023: 1876 (finished my second draft and sent to beta for edits)
February 2023: 126 (finished edits! left some very minor points to polish)
March 2023: 17
April 2023: (finished posting!)
Blood Moon Universe
Blood Moon is an original universe of mine that dates back to 2011. It has all the cliché vampires vs. werewolves vibes that I will shamelessly admit I have never grown out of. We didn't get to see a lot of it in the fic, but it's a very fertile, flexible environment—this is the fourth story I've set in this world, and even though they've all been vastly different from each other, the shell concepts have always served me well. Unsurprisingly, one makes original worlds that are conducive to the themes and motifs that one likes to write about.
Caleb and Fjord live in a dark age, where the last war between the vampires and werewolves decimated both populations so severely that the world is simply emptier than it used to be. Molly and Yasha raid abandoned manors, Caleb lives on ceded vamp territory where the wolves are also absent. Caduceus is alone in the Clay family home except for his temporary companions. Everyone is busy with their own survival, and there's no way for the scarce, scattered populations of the northern forests to repel the Shades on their own.
It was a big decision to write a story about two humans in this world, but Fjord and Caleb have always been underdog stories struggling with established powers. It's hard to imagine them any other way.
Canon-Related Concepts
One of my favourite arcs of Campaign 2 is the pirates arc, because the characters are asking themselves such deliciously heavy questions about their place in the world following Molly's death. I wanted to explore those facets of these characters.
I've also always found it so interesting that Travis said Fjord would have left to find the third orb if the Wildmother hadn't come through for him.
Caleb seeks an impossible magic for selfish aims, but he does it because he loves his parents. Fjord would make a deal with the devil for power, but he does it because he equates power with agency, and he wants the ability to protect himself and others. Caleb had a taste of that power, but it soured when he used it for the wrong reasons. Fjord is tasting it now, and can't imagine ever letting it go.
Related Works
Frankenstein by Mary Shelley
The Raven Tower by Ann Leckie
The Magicians by Lev Grossman
The initial pitch of Blood Moon explicitly referred to Caleb as a "Frankensteinien" character. Pervasive in that book is the desire for a domestic life, in which love, happiness, and security are enclosed. Frankenstein loses his mother, and then loses everything else as a consequence of the actions of his grief and uncertainty. What if Caleb's desire to undo what he did to his parents outweighed everything else?
Blood Moon borrows heavily from the magic in The Raven Tower, where one can literally speak something into existence. The idea of a world where "if you say something, it must become true, or you die trying" is extremely evocative and has stayed with me. It was a beautiful way to explore how grief can change the world.
If I can be honest here for a moment, I actually no longer remember why I have The Magicians listed as an inspiration for the fic. I started Blood Moon 3+ years ago and read The Magicians shortly afterwards, and I've since forgotten everything about that book except for what it made me feel: a despair that was hard to look in the eye.
Themes
These are phrased like high school essay questions because I couldn't think of a better way to present them. These are some of the questions that I asked myself while writing:
"With great power comes great responsibility …" Perhaps the defining question of the entire story. How is the question of duty explored in the fic? What do different characters feel responsible for and how do those responsibilities compete? How would each character answer the question "What do we owe to one another?"
Magic is intention. In this world, anybody can do magic. How is the magical presented in relation to the mundane? How much agency do the characters have? What kinds of choices do different characters make? How much does magic change their perception of the world?
The knowing is part of the price. Caleb and Fjord are both characters who don't know who they are or don't fully understand what made them. Initially, Fjord is resistant to the idea of learning more about his teacher at all. Vulnerability, he understands, is something that can only be given when you have power. What role do alter egos and second identities and our strange other selves play in this fic?
Life and death are the greatest changes of all. Caleb is determined to bring back his parents at any cost. Fjord is determined to live at any cost. Both of our lead characters have other forces calling for their dues. How are death and grief explored in this fic? How about ideas of rebirth and change?
I am nothing like I was. I cannot teach you; I cannot protect you. The story of Blood Moon is the story of what happens when Fjord goes looking for a teacher. In fact, many of the primary relationships in this fic are a mentorship or potential mentorship between a teacher and a student. What role does learning and teaching play in interpersonal relationships? How do different characters challenge these categories?
Home is where the heart is. The residences of several prominent magicians feature heavily in the fic as their seats of power. What role does "home" play in Caleb and Fjord's lives? How do they imagine, think of, and build their homes? What happens when someone's home is destroyed or otherwise absent?
Return. What is Fjord's relationship with the sea?
Misc. Notes
The enduring image of the fic that still lives rent free in my head is the burning house. Caleb's childhood house goes up in flames -> Isharnai's house goes up in flames -> the manor goes up in flames, and each time the axis of the world shifts just a little bit.
If you read and enjoyed the fic, please know that you have my eternal thanks. It means a lot to me.
And of course:
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And for the second prompt of Day 3 of @tamlinweek: Flower Language.
Content warning: Grief, war, allusions to torture, graves/graveyards, depression and PTSD.
Read Potentillas on AO3 or beneath the cut:
Where are you?
Days, months, years have passed, and he still cannot find him. Through the thicket and into the brush, Tamlin speaks to the whispering moss and the little creatures hidden within. The smallest things carry the greatest knowledge, often unseen and unheard, but Tamlin listens.
He’s always listened.
They tell him of the eagle and the bobcat, and of the new silver lace vines that have taken root in the North. He follows the trail they lead towards all the changes of his father’s Court. Maybe today, he’ll find what he’s looking for.
White flowers on shining pale gray stems greet him, honoured to be noticed by Spring’s prince. They bloom, showing their very best side. He asks their name, and though he is kind and caring, his heart shutters with disappointment. Not here.
The forest is his home; the war has made him restless and he rejects stillness. When the body does not move, the mind begins to race, and his mind lives among the dead.
He knows every inch of this place, from the growth of the trees, to the war of the weeds. He wakes his great-grandmother from her willow, and asks if she has seen anyone new, too. The souls always come home, so why isn’t he here? He loved the forests just as much as Tamlin did. He taught Tamlin to look, to listen and to respect. The Green should have welcomed him by now.
It has been days, months and years since Tamlin failed to bring Iolin’s body home, and he will not rest until he’s found his spirit.
***
The Middle is a barren place, ravaged by war. The soil is dead, poisoned by the iron of blood and the toxicity of faebane. Few things grow here, but they do not bloom—they claw their way out of the ground, all sharp edges and dark stems. Their leaves are shades of black, gray and rotted brown.
It has been a long time since Tamlin dared to venture here, and he does so against his better judgement. Shame isolates him, making him too afraid to reach out for help in this desperate endeavour. What will his friends say when the realize his crime?
I let my brother die.
That’s it.
Tamlin knows it, his family knows it and it’s only a matter of time before everyone else knows it, too. Cold seeps into his bones, a needling sensation that only ever takes place here. He pulls his cloak closer to himself and begins the trek.
Bones litter across the ground, half-devoured by vicious plants who thrive not on sun, not on song, but on the hard calcium of the dead. His mind shutters, withering under the weight of memories. This graveyard is of his making.
But Tamlin does not sop. He never learned how to. He only ploughs forward.
Further, and further, until he reaches the western shore close to where the King had stationed his temporary palace. The air grows thick, and Tamlin has to stop.
I can’t—
I can’t do this.
He promised he would bring Iolin home; he failed the first time, and he will let this attempt kill him before he fails again. Tamlin forces himself back to his feet, and keeps walking. He remembers exactly where he collapsed, where Iolin’s body had slipped from his arms and rolled down an incline, breaking him even more than he was already broken. He was already dead by then, succumbing to Amarantha’s wrath.
He was already free by then, leaving Tamlin in this interminable hell.
The gnawing in his chest is too much; he clutches it, as if he can reach his heart and throttle it in hopes of making it work again. It keeps failing, just like his lungs that can’t ever find enough air.
Please, please, please, I don’t want to be here.
Out of the corner of his eye, a glimmer of bright yellow sings softly to him. He knows that voice, and its gentle cadence. Iolin had always been kind, even when he was hiding from his father’s harsh gaze beneath the mask of duty. Iolin had always been the one to find Tamlin when he was running from something. He was courage itself.
Tamlin picks himself out of the dirt, walking with heavy steps towards the only bloom in the heart of this hellscape.
“Potentillas,” he whispers, touching the five petals lightly. “Of course.” His voice falters, and the breath that escapes him is shaky. He sits beside his brother’s resting place, and lets the relief wash over him. Iolin had always been his safe haven.
“The flowers of resilience. Crush the petals and steep it in tea, and you’ll find strength for another day,” he recites his brother’s words back to him. “I miss you, I miss you so damn much.”
#i promise tomorrow will be less emo#probably#tamlin week#tamlin#acotar fanfiction#acotar au#pro tamlin#my fics
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