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tkachuckycheese · 2 years ago

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on the line

summary: when the flames season comes to an end, you’re confronted with the emotions of your break-up with matthew, in more ways than one.

word count: 1.7k

warnings: kinda angsty, mentions of kissing

note: my first fic on hockeyblr, also my first one in years since my 1d fanfic days (lol)!! basically, this is a combo of my emotions from the flames elimination from the playoffs last night AND the potential of matthew having played his last game as a flame........... but let’s not talk more about it. there is maybe a more smutty addition to this but we shall have to seeeee..... let me know your thoughts friends, i would love to hear them!

You’re clutching the red jersey so tightly you're certain the seams are coming apart. You might not even be breathing. You sucked in a breath when the overtime goal was scored, and you haven’t been able to let it out quite yet.

You pace up and down your living room, back and forth, from the couch to the kitchen. You wish you’d gone to the game with the girls, because at least you’d have someone to calm you down. Many of them had asked you to, but you were worried you’d run into him. If you were there now, you would be able to know if he was okay. You could comfort him, tell him it wasn’t his fault and everything was going to be okay.

On your TV, they show the team giving the fans one last final salute before heading off the ice. He’s the first one down the tunnel, moving so fast and with his head tipped down that the cameras can’t catch him. But you don’t need to see his face to know what it looks like. He left everything on the ice tonight, and this is going to be a big deal for him. This is soul crushing for him. He’s going to be a fucking mess. Despite what happened between the two of you, your heart breaks for him.

Is this my fault?

You hate yourself for even contemplating that question. He made you break up with him. He is responsible for his own failures, and for your broken heart. Maybe karma decided to take this moment to unleash all the hurt and pain you wished on him when you broke up. But if he hadn’t decided your relationship was an “unnecessary distraction”, then there would be no reason for karma to kick his ass. Despite the fact that he had reached out many times since the break-up, asking to talk and saying he missed you, you hadn’t responded. Your emotional capacity had reached its limit, and you were still putting the pieces of yourself that he had broken back together.

You sigh and head into the kitchen, busying yourself with making dinner. Your diet had been shit since the breakup and now that you were trying to get through this instead of wallowing in the pain, you were trying to make a conscious effort.

A couple hours later, you were on the couch, still trying to convince yourself to change the channel, but you just couldn’t. It was like a train wreck. The highlight reel had played through multiple times already, with the panel discussing each and every hit and miss from the playoff series. The general consensus seemed to be that he, in particular, beared a lot of the responsibility for the team’s loss and playoff elimination. You roll your eyes at the panelists’ opinions of him, while simultaneously wishing you could smack him and hug him at the same time. But you’ll get to do neither because you’re not in his life anymore.

They’d switched to discussing a different series, and you were about to rewind and watch the highlights again to indulge your heart’s masochistic tendencies when the doorbell rings. Your heart skips and you immediately mute the television. You try to listen to the front door for who it could be, especially since it’s late and you’re not expecting anyone.

It rings again.

You stand up and walk gingerly towards the front hall. Your floorboards creak and you flinch–as if the serial killer on the other side of the door can hear it and has started sharpening his machete.

“Y/N, it’s me.”

You gasp. Because it can’t be. But when you go on your tiptoes and look through the peephole, there he is. Well, there’s the top of his curly head of hair. He tips his head up for a second and you glimpse those deep grey eyes and full mouth.

Holy shit.

You take a deep breath to calm yourself. There’s nothing about this that’s good, you remind your pounding heart as you open the door. He’s slouched over, but as soon as his eyes land on mine, he pulls himself up to almost his full height. Maybe it’s the pain of defeat makes it impossible to get that slump out of his broad shoulders entirely, and really, you can’t fault him for that.

You fight to hold his gaze. It’s hard because it’s so angry–and desperate. You’ve never seen him look like this, not in the last seven years you’ve known him, not when you broke up, not ever. And because you’re still so completely in love with him, it hurts to look at him.

“Can I come in?”

“Matthew, what are you doing here?” you ask without letting him inside. “Don’t you have post-game stuff you need to do?”

“It’s all done. The series is done. The season is done,” he replies, flicking his eyes to the ground and back up to yours. “Can I please come in?”

“Why?”

“Because.”

He’s wearing a pair of training paints and a Flames hoodie. It’s pulled tight across his wide chest. His hair is still wet from the shower. The whole team probably didn’t bother with suits after the game. They probably just wanted to get the fuck out of there. And he came straight to you.

“Because why?” You countered harshly.

“Let me in, Y/N.”

It’s not a question. He doesn’t really ask anyone for anything. He tells them. Matthew’’s always got to be in charge and no one ever denies that.

You tighten your grip on the door and move to shut it in his face, but he steps right into it. His palm makes a loud smacking sound against the wood, and then he’s pushing. Hard. You lose your grip on the door and it flings open. He steps over the threshold and right up into you.

Without an ounce of hesitation, Matthew grabs your face roughly in his big hands and forces his mouth over yours. You pound his shoulder with your fist and wedge your hand in between you to try to pry you apart, but you can’t break his hold on you. It’s like a sparrow tangling with an eagle.

His tongue sweeps right into your mouth and you think briefly about biting down on it, but it feels so damn good. You grab the fabric of his hoodie and ball it up in your hand. He starts walking backward, pushing you back into the living room. The side of the archway clips your shoulder, but he keeps pushing. When your legs hit the back of the sofa and you lose your balance, you shove him harder and this time Matthew takes a step away.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You scream.

“I’m showing you I still care the only way left to show you,” Matthew says, his voice strained and loud. “I’ve tried calling, texting, I’ve used social fucking media and so now here I am. Physically showing you.”

You storm past him, back into the hall to the open door. He turns to keep his eyes on you but doesn’t move to follow. He may be stunned and angry, but he’s still not going anywhere. You reach out and wrap your hand around the door again. “I told you, I’m no one’s silly little distraction or fling. You don’t get to come in here like a petulant child and just claim me like a consolation ribbon after you lose at hockey.”

His body is rigid, his shoulders creeping up to his earlobes the longer you rant, getting more and more tense. But you don’t care. You’re not in his life anymore.

“Y/N, I think about it every single day, how messed up it all was, how much I fucked up. I don’t like myself since you left. I never should have made you leave like that.”

You try to take a breath, but it’s ragged. “Matthew, you’re just emotional over the end of your season.”

“I did everything I could for this fucking team.” His voice is low and deep and shaky with rage.

“Yeah. You did. So let it go,” you reply tersely. “They lost in spite of you, Matthew, not because of you.”

He doesn’t answer. He walks towards you, his shoulders slumped in defeat again. This time, he stops a polite distance from you and keeps his hands to himself.

“I just can’t handle the fucking pressure. I can’t carry this team, and I can’t keep putting this brave face on. I don’t know what else to do,” he admits, and you know it’s nothing he’s ever said to anyone else and nothing that he ever will.

His dark eyes meet yours. They’re so sad they make your heart ache. He takes a few steps towards the door, and as he does, he chokes out, “I am so sorry.”

As he steps through the door, you put a hand on his shoulder and flick your wrist, causing the door to fly from your hand and slam shut. “You try to control everything and when you can’t, when something knocks you on your ass unexpectedly, you give up or hide. You’re a coward.”

His chest tightens under your hand. “I was a coward. I’ve been one this entire time, but I’ve been trying to change. I fucked up, but I’m still trying. But I need you. I need you because you make me want to be better.”

“You need me?” you repeat. God, you wanted to believe it, you really did. You had read his pleading texts, listened to the voicemails, even seen the Instagram post he’d made of a photo of the two of you, simply captioned “Miss this girl.” You’re just so scared to trust him again. You know he can’t do anything else to get you back. You had both walked out on each other, but neither of you had truly moved on.

It hits you so hard, you let out a shudder. You either have to believe Matthew or you have to let him go.

And the only thing that terrifies you more than forgiving him is losing him.

So you take a ragged breath and you whisper, “Prove it.”

#matthew tkachuk fic #matthew tkachuk writing #matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk one shot #calgary flames imagine #calgary flames writing #calgary flames one shot #hockey imagine #hockey fic #nhl imagine #nhl one shot #nhl fic

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hotdamnhunnam · 3 years ago

Note

Jax + 👀⏰🚭

Thanks for your request for my Emoji Fic Fest! 💗

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Up in Smoke

Pairing: Jax Teller x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, overused tropes y’all have already read (friends to lovers + only 1 bed) Word Count: ~1.3k Emoji Prompt: 👀⏰🚭 (key words are in bold)

“What?”

You glare at him and keep your mouth shut. How the fuck dare he ask what.

He went and said it as if he has any right to look so hot when he’s supposed to look like shit. Just sitting there. Sleep-deprived stare, messy ass hair. Ratty old shirt stinking of sweat and dirt and he just doesn’t care. Jax Fucking Teller never looks like shit, not even just a little bit.

Last night he got stuck in a fight and needed somewhere quiet he could crash and hide. As his best friend you somehow got caught in the middle of it. Now you and Jax are cooped up here in this motel out on the roadside. Some unspoken tension rears its ugly head between you two and you’ve no clue how to get rid of it.

Actually you do—you have more than just a clue—you know you need this stupid sexy piece of shit to fucking fuck you.

“How’d you sleep,” you ask without lifting your voice into a question. Your own sleep wasn’t that deep. You’d tossed and turned in every possible direction. On a mattress that felt like the pit of hell—expected nothing less from this motel, given the room was so dirt cheap.

He gives you that signature you’re-a-stupid-whore look which between friends is endearing. Friends or not, coming from him it’s fucking hot. A whole damn kink. “How do you think.”

You cross your arms and scowl. He chose to sleep on a scrappy old towel. “Christ, don’t be a dick about it. I told you to take the blanket but you said you’d be fine on the floor without it.”

Jax ignores that and just pulls a cigarette out. Sticks it in the sweet pink pucker of his mouth. You want to be that cigarette right now. You wish he’d read your mind somehow. Why can’t this big blonde idiot figure it out…?

He takes a puff and looks so hot you might start choking. You can’t handle that today. “Put that away. This room’s non-smoking.”

Snickers at you as his broad shoulders lift up in a slight shrug. “Do I look like I give a fuck?”

You start to fume, the smell of smoke and your own slutty desperation swirling all around the room. “You’re gonna set off the alarm—”

Reach down to yank the cigarette out of his mouth but then he swiftly grabs your arm. That ice-blue fire in his eyes that could do you serious harm. The way you wish he would—he’d rough you up so fucking good… he’s more the fire-breathing dragon than Prince Charming but to you the beast has all the fucking charm.

Last night he’d been a gentleman and had insisted that you take the bed. Today you’re mad ‘cause you had been desperate for him to share the bed with you instead.

He doesn’t know that yet. But he could sense it from the second that you grabbed his cigarette. Jax doesn’t want your lifelong friendship to go up in smoke but he’s been itching to get in your pants for years and if you’re standing here and handing him a ticket… maybe if the sex is epic then it’s worth getting his dick wet. Epic sex is one thing Jax Fucking Teller never regrets.

***************

“Bitch, all you had to do was ask.”

He’s such an ass. That shit is so typical Jax.

He growls it fierce, ridge of his teeth grazing the soft lobe of your ear—thick fingers slide across your slick sensitive clit, seeking the tight heat of your slit—then fucking pierce—he can’t believe he has you here and holy shit—it’s stark how different you appear. He tells himself it’s just a fuck, but no such luck, as something sparks and runs him over like a truck.

Jax Teller never feared the dark but just the light: something that felt too fucking bright. Done so much wrong he has no right. Having you near—this was exactly what he’d feared. Had tried to fight. He’d won last night. He’s losing it with you right here.

The lines between friendship and whatever this is should’ve stayed clear. For fucking years, that was the path he’d tried to steer. Stroking his dick alone in bed, or drowning in another chick he had just met—picturing you instead—that was the closest he could get.

Until you grabbed that motherfucking cigarette.

It’s barely been a minute yet, and you’re already dripping wet. It hits him now that’s how you’ve always been for him. It hits him now that you adore him. That you’d do anything for him.

Hits him in the way you hold him like you’re on the verge of death—the way you lick into the heaven of his kiss with your sweet tongue, fucking explore him—suck the smoke out of his lungs, white hot and seething. You’re the fire that the beast in him is breathing. He’s your first and last and only fucking breath.

You’re set to shatter into pieces on his knuckles, and he wants to fucking cry at just how beautiful you are, but that’s the shit that would cut deep enough to scar, and so instead he fucking chuckles.

Makes you weak; you’d scream at him if you had words to even speak. Just leave it to this piece of shit to fucking lighten it. He drags his fingers from your soaking cunt right in the instant just before you hit your peak, and you can’t keep him in no matter how you tighten it.

Here you had thought you both felt something that meant everything, but suddenly you worry that your inner slut got carried off imagining. Suddenly you think of course that’s not what’s happening. You’re just spread out beneath your best friend on the crap mattress of some seedy motel, and there’s no fucking way the fallout from this session will go over well. No way you can go back to what you were, after this ravaging. No way you can go further and become more in the future, which is what your stupid little heart desires more than anything. No way in hell. No way in fucking hell.

You’re slipping fast and he can tell. Tripping somewhere inside yourself. He’d run away from all the weight of that—or fuck through all the issues, if it’s not too late for that—that’s what he’d do, if you were anybody else.

You’re not.

You’re you and that’s what scares him. Like, a lot. He’s never felt something that tears him, but he’s shocked to find the pain and fear of feeling more than he can even bear just makes him harder, pushes him to take this farther. God, it’s super fucking hot.

The doubt and heartbreak radiating from you twist him up in knots. Jax had no clue, just what that little laugh off of his wicked lips would do. He did it to protect himself but didn’t think it would screw you. He sees it’s true, your pretty face painting the picture of your thoughts. Inches from pushing him away but pull him close instead ‘cause whether friend or lover, you’ll still love him like no other. Cling to him with all you’ve got.

He knows you better than he has any damn right to. He’s in you before he ever drives inside you. Always has been. This was real before it happened.

Holds you as you’re gasping—big strong hand soft on your face, the other keeps your hips in place, forehead against yours as he looks at you with eyes the blue of hope and then becomes the rope you’re grasping.

All the lines of who you were—the blindness of before—didn’t just blur. They fucking broke. You take him deep into your core, and let him wreck until it hurts, beg without words, for him to fuck you like a whore and so much more, and breathe him in so deep you choke.

There’s light on both ends of this cigarette, and no regret, as everything goes up in smoke.

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Emoji Fic Masterlist

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socially-awkward-skeleton · 2 years ago

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WIP List

Thanks @funkypoacher for helping to expose my growing list of WIPs and random ideas I have for fics (The ultimate callout post lmao)

As I'm sure most folks are aware I've got two major long form fics I am currently working on as the mood strikes:

1) Only You - FC5 Soulmate AU (Kit x Jacob)

Currently working on Chapter 10. This one is on a bit of a hiatus, the plot outlines for each chapter are more or less figured out its just having the words and ideas to craft anything that makes sense and that is remotely worth reading.

All I know for sure is that Kit will have an issue with one of the hunters who will very quickly be put on both her and Jacob’s shit list, and that Burke will be joining the story sooner than later. The Reaping is right around the corner now and Staci’s about to get a first hand look at what Kit’s been up to since being taken hostage (sorry Pratt)

2) The Animal in Me - FC5 Werewolf AU (Kit x Staci, Kit x Jacob)

Chapter 2 is being reworked because I am a slut for making Staci a more popular character and I will put in the work to make more people fall in love with him. Chapter 3 is already written and includes a reworked version of the scene I posted for writer’s month that really kicked this whole fic off in the first place. Plot outlines for each chapter are more or less decided on and I know how I want the fic to end so at least there’s that.

There will be silver bullets, much blood spilled and definitely a “Who did this to you?” moment thrown in for good measure.

Honestly though, this is such a self indulgent fic and I don't even care anymore. Kit's getting a werewolf throuple and there is nothing anyone can do about it.Kit’s getting it all, baby (Mostly i just can’t let go of her and Staci because they make such an odd pair and I want them to be happy and somewhat normal while also letting her be feral with Jake under the full moon)

The Kinktober fics:

1) Breaking Pratt 2: Electric Boogaloo

Was going to post this one today but decided to wait and rejig it a tad. It's missing that je ne sais quoi that the thigh riding fic had.

2) Housebroken

The collar fic. The actual smutty part is all stage action and needs the details added still but the brain isn't exactly in a smut writing mood.

Then there are the fics that have stalled or are just a random collection of ideas that need a lot more time to stew before they are even worth writing:

1) The Hunter Becomes the Hunted

This one has been sitting on the back burner for a while. I’ve posted two chapters of it to AO3 but not much more work has been done on it since. It's Kit's background fic as a soldier so it means I have to be in the mood to do some research on the war in Afghanistan and I just haven't had the energy to do that as of late.

2) New Dawn AU

I have ideas, aesthetics, and a pinterest board and not much else. tbh, I haven't even finished playing the game but I know I gotta write the Canon divergent fic where Jacob is alive and well with Kit living that barbarian life in New Eden.

3) a million and one ideas for bunker fics. IDK what I specifically want to do with them yet. I need to write the one where her and Jake adopt the two kiddos in the bunker (whose parents Kit just happened to kill in the Trials...oops) and then the birth of Haven and her growing up. The plan is to get Kit a bit of her soul back and have her be less of the murderous monster that she is so she can become a good mama bear to her kiddos. The ideas are there, but the energy to write it is not.

4) and contemplating writing Kit's main timeline story out in full. I was going to go the short fic route (which is what all of her fics are so far) and just make them a series, but now I want to fill in the gaps especially after writing out the fic with her and Joey for the angst prompt. There's lots of stuff about Kit before she falls prey to the Seeds that I'd like to tell, stuff that might make her a little more sympathetic before she crashes and burns into becoming the monster I know and love.

5) and on top of all that are the random drabbles I've spewed forth about Homelander and Nightingale that really have no story or logic to them yet and aren’t yet ready to see the light of day

#wip list wednesday #i got more ideas than I can shake a stick at but most of them I just cant bother to write currently and so i suffer #tagged

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oh-for-fic-sake · 4 years ago

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It’s A Match Chapter One

Masterlist

Disclaimer

Summary: Filming is over and Henry returns home to and empty house. And he doesn't like it, things are getting to him and he doesn't want to be alone anymore. Then his brother suggests online dating, it sounds mad but henry decides to give it a shot. If worst comes to worst he just deletes the profile. He has nothing to loose right?

Warnings: Angst, Swearing, Cheese, Self Indulgent Fic, Rpf, Plus sized reader.

A/N: so I wrote this before the whole 'girlfriend' shock and everything that has followed. I was of two minds whether to ever post it but honestly, this is my blog and I've clearly stated that i am going to continue writing Rpf. I want to do a little ficlet/mini fic and well here we go. It wont be smutty just somewhat angsty then fluffy. Enjoy~

Taglist: In Reblogs.

Henry slumped back on the seat in his conservatory and sighed, from here he could see his brothers and their wives outside, each snuggled up on the out door wicker sectional he had got to have the family over. It was the first family get together for over a year. He was happy, god it was amazing to see them but... He couldn't help being a tad envious.

They all had a family, wife and kids to go through this shitstorm in. He had no one, well he ha Kal. But that was it he sighed and looked away sipping from his cup slowly takeing a moment for himself. He needed to just chill, but it was getting hard... This year had really knocked him back he was at an all time low he hadn't felt like this for a long time. He knew he was depressed, he felt stupid there was no reason to be but there we go.

Henry had been getting himself all twisted for a while now, filming the Witcher helped but now that was over and he was home alone. Left with his thoughts in a big empty house.

"Sooo little brother want to tell me what's going on or am I gonna have to get mum in here?" Henry jumped at the voice and spun around to face his brother who was keeping a safe distance at the door. Wiping his hands down clearly just having washed them again.

"I ah its nothing, you know me I'm a worry wart" he said waving off his older brother he didn't want to bring down the mood of the small gathering, it was why he had come in here to take a breather.

"You called us all here for a visit hen, out of the blue when lockdown is still being eased out. Its clear you don't want to be alone, yet your sitting in here alone." His older brother said leaning on the door frame folding his arms trying to figure out what was really going on. He could see his little brother was hurting he wanted to help.

"I've got Kal" Henry said with a chuckle and looked about for the bear only to frown and sigh seeing the room was empty apart fro him and his brother.

"Kal's outside with the kids hen, what's up? You can tell me you know" henry sided as his sibling moved sitting in the small seat across from him. He knew that his family would listen but he felt so... spoilt like he was asking too much and was being selfish. It wasn't like him.

He grunted leaning back choosing not to look at his brother instead focusing on the cup in his hand. He spun it slightly then heaved a sigh. He wasn't getting away with not speaking about it, he was going to air out his worries one way or another. With his brother or his mother, and he loved his mother but this was? He wanted to keep this issues close to his chest. So far only Kal knew about his problems.

"I... I've had enough... just had enough of fucking covid and being alone... i felt isolated before all this shit kicked off and now?" He vented releasing all the fears he had. It was tough, he was a family man without his own little family, he hadn't managed to find anyone to share his life with and it got to him. He tried being sincere and polite, he took care of himself and tried staying true to himself but... something was missing it had to be! On paper he was a safe bet a good man! Yet his relationships never worked. There were different opinions or his other half couldn't handle the life style or they tried changing him or they couldn't put up with the way he loved so furiously- so openly wanting to always hold and kiss them. It just never quite worked.

"Its- fuck everything has just caught up with me...worries I've had for a few years now I could ignore them you know? I had other stuff going on, was always out and about meetings and press tours I was busy! But now?" He tried putting his feeling into words but he was conscious, he didn't want to whine or bitch about his life. He loved his work and the life he had made for himself he just? Wanted someone to share it with.

"Now after covid you've got all the time in the world to think?" Henry nodded agreeing with his brother. Covid had made him face these fears head on. He has been alone for the best part of a year with the uncertainty of his work and filming quarantines and isolations.

"Yeah, it hurts I'm... I'm in deep and I? I don't know how I'm getting out of this slump" henry finally said outloud, his brother dipped his head listening to him as he ranted. Started letting out all the frustration and anxiety out but stopped short with another growl closeing his hand around the cup tightly hissing in frustration then looked away.

"And what's caused it? I know you hate being alone but?" Henry sighed shaking his head as his brother tried coaxing more out of him. He drew in a shaky breath wanting to cry, he was just so lost and upset over being upset and alone.

"Two lock downs... Two alone- I? If this carries on for the next few years I don't... I don't want to be alone anymore! I want to settle down, I want an actual personal life! A relationship a family and? How? How am I gonna find all that? They want fame or money or something! Women never seem to want me for me, they say the do then judge me for my hobbies- I'm a geek I like tech and games and fantasy! And women don't like that" he spewed the words like they were venom, half ashamed of being so dramatic but the fear was real. Henry was scared, he wanted love. He wanted a family of his own, and it seemed impossible, now more then ever.

"I want to meet someone who will take me as I am, for me and I just I'm giving up. I'm giving up on it I can feel it, almost forty and look, alone unmarried no kids-I have no one to share my life with, it hurts am I not good enough for that?" He hung his head as he spoke the final words put loud. He felt so vain and full of himself when he said them out loud, his skin crawled.

But it was how he felt, being the muscular decent looking man he was didn't go with his personality. He was a geek and the woman who were drawn to him didn't want that. And the woman that shared his hobbies normally weren't confident enough to even speak to him. Society's views on acceptable couples had put Henry in no mans land.

"What about online dating?" His brother spoke up but Henry just grunted rolling his eyes frustrated.

"What? No I cant do that I'd be fucking swamped" he hissed in irritation frustrated at the mere suggestion of him trying to date online.

"Whoa hold your horses let me finish I mean come on Hen there's bound to be hundreds of shy sweet women on there, I mean girls that are into your hobbies and stuff aren't usually the ones out and about partying and stuff, so its more likely they will be online" his brother quickly explained before Henry could pop off on one and shut him down.

Henry opened his mouth and stopped himself. That was a good point. Many of the women he would click with weren't going to be in bars or fancy parties. They were normally shy and at home most of the time reading or playing games.

"I... You really think i could meet someone? Meet the one online?" He asked in a small voice warming to the idea. His sibling smiled and nodded enthusiastically.

"Yes little brother, your a down to earth guy, just make a profile and have a look, if you don't like what you see you can delete the profile" henry nodded slowly thinking it over. There'd be no harm if he failed well he'd be no worse off, a little disheartened but that's about it.

"Look write down a few things you want in your dream girl, have a pseudo name like fucking I don't know Hank! Or something and say your a runner on set or something" his brother spoke up quickly as Henry sat back and actually thought about it seriously. He was right, henry could tweak things and be careful about what he shared and if he did meet the one then she'd understand... He could explain the predicament he was in. That he just wanted someone who liked him for him. And he would only reveal himself to her if she was the one and he was sure she would understand. As long as he was himself and honest about everything else in his life then there was no harm... and if he used proper photos of himself just... half cropped out then? It wasn't catfishing? Because he was being himself just using the nickname his mother used to call him.

"O-okay so be myself but... Just tweak a few things? So they don't know its me?" He reiterated to his brother still trying to figure out the morality of this whole idea.

"Yes! No full on pictures, no photos of Kal either new photos henry not old, maybe of your eyes up or something? Girls love blue eyed boy- not your right that brown will give you away... you could even fuck em up with a behind the scenes character photo? I mean come on how many men use a superman photo for their profile these days?" He encouraged wanting more then anything to cheer up his little brother.

"I yeah... That could work ,thank you- I'm sorry I got so worked up it... Its just getting to me now" henry apologised but his brother shook his head and chuckled standing up to go back outside to the others that were all happily chatting in the garden.

"I know Hen, look just give it a go, you might be surprized... come on lets get back out there, after all you are the host~ you cant just run off and hide" henry grinned standing and following his brother. It was decided, he'd give online dating a go!

A week later Henry sat at the computer everything was ready, he'd taken some precise photos and had spent the last half hour writing a profile up. He had felt a little guilty about this... Was he lying? Technically it was him, he was going by Hank which was a nickname his parents gave him as a child, luckily this site didn't require a surname because honestly? He had no clue! To fend off some guilt he had thrown in a behind the scenes photo of himself as superman it wasn't much but it helped take the edge off. The other photos were cropped and there were a good few just so that the women knew he wasn't technically a catfish; he even did one with him covering half of his face with a piece of paper with Hank scrawled across it. At the time he felt silly but it helped with his anxiety over the whole thing.

He paused for a second eyeing the screen rereading the profile over and over trying to make sure it was alright and honest. And it was, he had explained a little about himself, his hobbies and interests and his job... Only brushing over he worked for the film and tv industry recently working for Netflix he hadn't exactly explained what he did but there was enough information.

With a deep breath he clicked the button his mouse hovered over going live with the profile. Now all he had to do was wait and hope he caught a good womans eye. Within moments a few profiles popped up, matches. He scanned them flicking through some of the profiles and felt his heart crack. They were all full of badly filtered photos and used slang that to be honest he didn't even understand. What was so hard about using plain English?

He growled growing frustrated clicking through what were clearly a bunch of wannabe sugar babies. Each profile had a main photo a little bit of info then a few more pictures added to them. He scanned each one quickly going through the motions judging each one. 'Too far away... Your clearly not even eighteen?... Oh you like dc? Really hate to break it to you but thor is not a dc character' Henry grunted as he bypassed what felt like hundreds of women each with their own 'duck face' selfie most advertising their Instagram pages some even ballsy enough to add their only fans pages.

'Wait a second who was that?' He paused and scrolled back up and eyed the image on screen. It was a face on photo a cute woman smiling uncomfortably. Unlike everyone else's there was no distorting blur or heavy editing, the only make up was in the form of eyeliner in a set of black slightly uneven cat eyes. A slightly skewed black flicks making a point of no editing on the photo.

She was a full figured woman with proper kissable round cheeks and a sweet nervous grin. Her eyes were what got him, they were kind and genuine he could see she was uneasy about the photo but she was beautiful. She lived about half hour away which wasn't to bad.

Henry clicked the profile and scrolled down she didn't smoke, drunk occasionally and had no children. She did however have a college education in animal care and ran a small business. Centred on dogs by the looks of it. He moved further down reading the profile.

Y/n, 30, business owner, e/c, 5'4, curvy

I'm shy so will take a while to warm up to you. A honest woman, sometimes to honest I don't seem to have a filter 🤗 I'm laid back and tend to be sarcastic and I love animals I'm a kc certified dog breeder as well as run a small successful business that caters to dogs. So if you are allergic or don't like dogs then leave now but thank you for clicking🙃

I spend most of my free time gaming or reading. I enjoy the fantasy genre and love dc and marvel (though I love dc just a tad more🤫)

I have one fur baby in the form of my lovely girl Amii who is a three year old malamute. Yes malamute not a husky or Akita so again if you don't like dogs or big dogs I'm not the girl for you.

I'm looking for someone to have fun and maybe build a life with. Covid has been tough being single and decided that it was about time I tried this whole online dating thing. If you want to chat pop me a message 🥰

I do not have a personal Instagram, snapchat or only fans! Stop asking for pictures!😠😠

Henry's face split into a huge grin. She seemed to good to be true. She was wholesome, successful in her own right and looked fun. She didn't seem to be full of kale and bullshit. Just genuine and? Henry couldn't put his finger on it but there was something drawing him to this woman.

True to her word there was no Instagram link, no only fans or snap chat or anything. He scrolled further seeing photos of her and the biggest fluffiest dog he had ever seen in his life. She was sitting down next to who he assumed was Amii her dog and he melted. Y/n looked happy and content, living her best life.

There was nothing that sent alarm bells ringing, no racey photos or 'Netflix and chill' innuendos. The profile was clean and genuine. He was right the woman was a little chunky but extraordinarily beautiful. The curves suited her and made her look more... cheerful and he could tell she was strong aswell, you had to be to have a huge dog like that about you.

There were photos of her walking a large pack of dogs in the wood; that he recognised! They were the very same he took Kal to only ten minuets down the road, he even recognised the small logo of her company on the jacket she wore. He had seen dog walkers wearing the same jacket so he knew of her brand. I he remembered correctly the company offered dog walking, grooming and kennel facilities as well as offering Breeding services helping stud dogs and stuff. They also helped advertise registered breeders and took in rescues for rehoming. It was a brilliant little company that he had even used for Kal once or twice to get his teeth cleaned and nails clipped, because Kal was a bugger for his pedicures!

He moved further down seeing more photos of the woman a small section with the games and tv she liked. Witcher was in both the tv and games category aswell as peaky blinders, Vikings and a few other shows.

Henry paused as he saw the chat button. Should he? He but his lip twisting on the spot in he chair rocking from side to side. What harm is there? He could just send a message she looked like a fun loving woman, he shared the same interests and stuff... so why not?

His fingers hovered over the keys ready to type out the words. But he choked. His mind ran blank what does he say? Hi? I saw your profile? Does he ask for a date? What does he do?

He let his hands fall and growled. Then scanned over the side of the message bar seeing a few pre-typed responses.

'It's a match!' 'You look fun, lets chat' 'I like your profile picture'

He winced they all seemed... wrong? Somehow they were polite and all but it- they wasn't personal or anything just... not quite right. He looked down as Kal came padding over and slumped next to him resting his chin on his foot with a loud sigh. With that Henry had an idea typing away a little message and hitting send before he could really think.

You sighed typing away the latest wage slips and added up all the various overtime, you really needed some more staff on now that lockdown was coming to an end. Thankfully animal care was essential so you hadn't been hit too hard a few staff were on furlough as they were extreme high risk and shielding but you were going out of your way to make the premises covid safe. Luckily it wasn't too hard as much of the business was just a few staff and lots of dogs.

You frowned when a chat icon popped up in to corner of your screen. 'Hank?' You though trying to remember if you knew a Hank? Maybe a client or some old friend... but you honestly couldn't recall. You l saved your document and clicked the small icon bringing up a chat and frowned a you read the little message.

'I call my dog bear but he has nothing on Amii, Shes the fluffiest dog I've ever seen in my life she looks perfect for bear hugs😅'

'what the hell?' You cursed scrunching your nose up at the screen rereading the words. That's a bit random... you clicked his icon a small photo of half of his face then froze as a dating profile opened up. 'Oh... shit' you said seeing that your own profile you'd set up a few days ago out of curiosity had garnered the attention of the handsome blue eyed stranger. You swallowed biting you lip thoughts of finishing updating your records now gone as you scanned Hanks profile and a small smile crossed your face.

Hank, 37, works in the film industry. Blue eyes, 6ft, muscular.

Decided to finally try this online dating, unsure what to say other then I'm looking for a life partner. I like to think I'm funny and laid back. I'm fit and active but that doesn't mean you have to be, but maybe my lady could come for walks with me and my four legged son? I promise he's my best freind and a good boy.

My job is tough and I'm away for long periods of time, but when I'm home I like to play games and am into warcraft. I paint miniatures when I can. Fantasy and superheroes are a big part of my hobbies so if you don't like all things geek then I'm probably not for you.

But if they are? Then feel free to message me, I will reply when I can.

You read and re-read the profile And your hands hovered over your chicklet keyboard. Biting your lip, do you respond? He seemed sweet and real... if that made sense. You took a deep breath. What was the worst that could happen? Asking for a plane ticket? You decided to take a chance and typed back a reply hitting send whilst you had your nerve and then flushed.

"And they say fluffy dogs only lure in women~" You giggled to yourself moving a hand over the huge fluffy girl beside you giving her pets whislt thinking of a reply.

#henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #rpf #henry cavill fic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill x y/n #henry cavill imagine

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imtryingmybeskar · 3 years ago

Text

Writer Wednesday 22/9/21. This is my first ever Oberyn fic. The setting lends itself so well!

Oberyn x f! reader x Ellaria. 8k words. 18+ only! Smutty times. Also mentions of non con, an attempt at the same, and physical hurt. We are electing to ignore cannon and pretend that Oberyn is still living a life of beautiful hedonism in Dorne. No beta as ever. There might be a part two if the mood takes me (or if another Writer Wednesday inspiration strikes!) Oberyn is King of Consent.

@autumnleaves1991-blog @clydesducktape

Uplifted

"You can't! Not again! You'll get in trouble! Much as you loved Mari, she really did fuss too much. You laughed as you moved away from her, but she tugged on your arm to halt your progress. "I mean it! They're due back today and if they catch you-"

"Since when did any journey go to plan? And besides, we've all heard about the storms that have ravaged the Narrow Sea. They won't be back today." Mari still looked distressed, so you cupped her face in your hands and kissed her nose. "Please. Do not worry. I will be in and out in no time at all. I just can't bear the thought of sharing yet another bath time with that disgusting oaf."

The oaf in question was Jacor, a sellsword from the North. Rumour was that he had been forced to take the Black for some reason that still remained a mystery, but had absconded and instead travelled as far South as he could to escape justice. He seemed to enjoy the smell of fear and several girls whom he had cornered counted themselves lucky if they escaped merely with bruises to their arms. He was a giant of a man, powerful and strong and it was this that made him think he was untouchable by anyone, as well as invincible on the battlefield. In the past month it seemed as if he was invariably in the public baths when you yourself were, and you were disquieted by the way he had stared at your body, openly leering. The final straw had come a week ago when you had made to get out as he got in. As you covered yourself, he had called out to you and as you had turned, you had seen him stroking his cock fully in front of you. You had fled in disgust and shame, and had not been back. But of course, you had to bathe. Being part of the Prince's household meant certain standards must be upheld, even if you were only a cook's help.

When you had first come to Dorne as a child, you had adored the lush greenery of the Water Gardens and had investigated every inch. Eventually, you had discovered that some of the trellises would support your weight, and had used this to sneak your way into the statelier rooms at the top of the palace and explore them. This same method now allowed you to take a more secluded and personal approach to your washing. The room you had found was glorious and you didn't dare think too hard on whom it might actually belong to, lest you lose your nerve. The bathroom was all of green marble, with beautiful glass lanterns of a hundred colours lighting your way within. The bath was cut into the wall in large alcove, and pots of all sorts of fragrant oils and costly unguents lined it. The bath itself needed no water hauling to it, nor did the water require heating. A small spout with a valve led directly into the tub and water was pumped up to the room from the heated springs located within the bowels of the palace. Mari was correct in that you couldn't afford to do this too often. But one more time couldn't hurt...

After filling the tub with water, you sank beneath its welcoming heat and sighed your comfort and at the relief of your aching muscles. Not wanting to use the expensive oils provided, you had brought your own homemade soap made of plant oils and rosewater, and you scrubbed your skin and hair with this before lying back and resting your head against the back of the bath. Your eyes closed as your mind turned over, trying to think of ways to avoid Jacor once you could no longer come here as much. If you spent too much time around him you knew it was only a matter of time before something terrible happened...

You awoke with a start to a loud noise, and as you opened your eyes the sinister metallic gleam of a blade made itself known in front of your face. You were unable to take your eyes from it as it travelled slowly ever closer and came to a stop pressed against your jaw, its tip angled dangerously at your neck. Your breath hitched in your chest and you began to sweat, despite the tepid temperature of the water around you.

"Now," purred a lazy voice. "What could we possibly have here? Hmm? A thief? A murderer?" The tip of the blade raked down your skin toward your heart, not deep enough to cut, but the threat was enough to make you squeak in fear. "Ahhh," the voice continued. "A mouse. Well met, little mouse. Sadly for you, it is well known that vipers devour mice. Wholly and without mercy." Finally, your gaze slowly raised to the man holding the knife. It was indeed the Red Viper himself, his beautiful, full lips twisted in a mocking smile. Apparently the storms of the Narrow Sea had not hampered his return after all. You swallowed hard. "Tell me," he went on, his voice never deviating from his low, velvety rumble, "why is there a mouse in my personal chamber?"

Words tried to form in your throat, your mouth made the shapes but no sound came out. It was well known that Oberyn was a master of poisons, as well of combat. It was likely that the blade he was touching to your skin was doused in something horrible and that you would die a lingering death instead of a swift one if he did not like your answer.

As if he had heard your thoughts, he sighed. "Time passes and I grow impatient. I have had a trying voyage and I wish to bathe and reunite with my Ellaria. You are in the way of this. Trust me when I say that is not where you wish to be. I have other and more deadly blades to loosen your tongue if you will not loosen it yourself."

"I'm sorry," you gabbled. "My Prince. I am so sorry. I wished to bathe but he is always there and I'm scared of what he will do to me if I go back and I brought my own soap and I swear I thought you would be gone for longer and I am so sorry. Please, please show mercy my Prince."

Oberyn looked at you thoughtfully, one eyebrow arched high as he regarded you. He withdrew his blade and put it back at the sheath at his hip before crouching down beside the bath, so his head was level with yours. "You are frightened of someone?" You nodded. "You are more frightened of them than of me?" Your eyes grew wide as you realised you didn't know how to answer him without possible insult. Oberyn chuckled, his dark eyes crinkling at the sides. "You do not have to answer that. I know you are. Or else why choose to come here rather than face whomever haunts you in the public baths." His face grew serious again. "Where do you work in the palace?"

"The kitchens, my Prince. I help the cooks."

He nodded. "Tonight, you attend to me. I will leave a robe for you to wear. You will come out of the bath. You will clean it down. And then you will fill it with water again. And with these oils." He pointed at two different pots on the side. "A finger of this one and two fingers of this. When the water is ready, you will go through that door." He pointed at the doorway behind him. "You will wait in that chamber until I tell you to come back into this room. Once I am in the bath, you will wash my hair as you explain who you are afraid of and why. And how you entered these chambers without anyone seeing you. Do you understand my orders?"

"Yes, my Prince."

"Good." He stood abruptly and took a plush, beige coloured robe from a cupboard at the back of the room and placed it over the stool that was in front of a small mirror on the wall. "Then fulfil them." He moved away into the next chamber and out of sight.

You moved to obey his instructions swiftly but thoroughly, your heart still hammering in your chest and a sickly feeling in your stomach despite Oberyn's kindliness toward you. The years of being in the kitchens had given you nimble fingers and a knowledge of how things should be cleaned properly, as well as an understanding of precise measurements. It was approximately ten minutes before you were knocking on the door he had indicated and entering upon his invitation. You kept your eyes lowered as he moved past you, and when he called you back into the bathroom after a few minutes of shuffling and splashing noises. The oils that you had added to the water had turned it opaque and milky, so you could see nothing of Oberyn's lower half, but you still felt it impolite to raise your eyes to his face.

Again, he seemed to know what you were thinking. "It will be difficult for you to attend me if you will not look at me." You raised your eyes uncertainly to his and were met with a warmth within them. "Take this," he commanded as he placed yet another pot into your hands. It was filled with a waxy, white substance that smelled like cinnamon and spices. "Remove a small amount. A little more. Yes. Now, rub it between your hands until it is warm. Good. Now run your hands over my head. The oil should touch every part of my hair." While he was instructing you, he bowed his head to allow you better access to his hair, and you were struck by the trust he was placing in you. Your heart swelled for him. Another master might have killed you outright for your insolence, or at the very least banished you from the palace. Touching your Prince's soft curls was no punishment at all. Though perhaps he was merely lulling you into a false sense of security. The thought chilled your blood once again. "You are not doing as I commanded, little mouse," he gently chided. "You must tell me of this man you are afraid of."

You swallowed again. "I apologise my Prince. I..he...he is a sell sword in the employ of the army of Dorne. He...watches me. While I bathe. I do not like him doing so. The last time I was in the baths I made to leave as soon as he got there. He...well forgive me for saying this so bluntly my Prince but as I left he called so I would look at him and I saw that he was touching himself. I really did not like that."

"I see," the Prince mused. "As you work the unguent into my hair, you should massage the scalp too. It is good for the brain. Gets the blood flowing."

"Yes, my Prince," you answered as your fingers began to gently massage his head, as he had requested.

He grunted in pleasure. "Your fingers are skilled. Wasted in the kitchen. Although I can see how they would make a good dough!" Before you could thank him he continued, switching back to the other conversation as if he had never departed from it. "Has he done anything else to make you fear him?"

"Not to me directly, my Prince. But some of the other girls...they have stories."

"Tell me."

"He corners them. Touches them. If they struggle, he likes it more. If they don't, he hurts them until they do."

There was a brief silence. Oberyn's voice was strangely calm and colourless when he next spoke. "And do you have a name for this man, little mouse?"

"Jacor, my Prince. He comes from the North."

He grunted, and then moved his body and caught your wrist beside his head so swiftly that you gasped in shock. Your eyes grew wide again as they met his. "I will investigate this. You have the word of Oberyn Martell. And if I find out you have lied to spare yourself punishment for your transgression here tonight, you will die. Do you understand?" You nodded mutely. "Say to me that you understand," he insisted.

"I-I understand, m-my Prince," you stammered.

"Good. Until then, you are not to go to the baths alone. If for any reason you cannot find someone to accompany you, I give you permission to go to the training yard. Ask for either Nymeria or Elia. They will help you."

"Your...your own daughters, my Prince?" you asked, faintly. "Would they not have better things to do than to protect a kitchen girl?"

He smiled, but it didn't entirely reach his eyes. "Indeed so. Which is why they may be sulky about what they are asked to do. But they will assuredly obey their father. If this Jacor acts in the manner that you say, they would also want to stop such a beast from occupying their home. And now you should rinse this from my hair. Get the jug there, that's it."

Whilst you thoroughly rinsed Oberyn's hair, you explained to him just how you had accessed his rooms and he chuckled. "Perhaps you are a monkey, and not a mouse that you climb so!" You smiled at his gentle teasing as you massaged his scalp in the way that he seemed to enjoy. He hummed in pleasure again and requested that you address the muscles in his neck and shoulders too. "I am getting old, little mouse," he murmured to himself. "Seafaring is not half as enjoyable as it used to be, even with the comforts I am afforded."

"Then you should not be away so long next time, dearest." The voice that came from behind you was smooth and sweet and carried the warmth of a summer breeze, and the delight on your Prince's face as he whirled around to the doorway made him look half his age. You turned to see the newcomer too, and recognised the woman who was so often to be seen on the arm of Oberyn.

"Ellaria. My love," he cooed softly. "Come to me."

Without further ado and without any discomfort about your presence, Ellaria unbuckled the cinch at her waist and shrugged the green and gold material of her dress off her shoulders where it pooled at her feet. Belatedly, your eyes dropped to the floor again, but not before you saw the smooth honey of her skin, the thatch of dark hair at her groin and the swell of her beautiful breasts. You felt the flush creep up into your cheeks and bit your lip as you heard Ellaria lower herself into the bath opposite Oberyn.

He chuckled at you. "Does the little mouse find my paramour pleasing to look upon?"

You raised your eyes uncertainly to him again and they flicked to Ellaria too, who was also waiting for your reply with amusement on her face. You nodded. "Yes, my Prince," you whispered.

"I see. Is this partly why this Jacor offends you so? Do you not seek the company of men?"

"I-I-find some men pleasing too, my Prince. But I have not known them as fully as I have women."

"Very interesting. Would it please you to fuck Ellaria?" You stammered and blushed even more in the face of such a blunt question, but Ellaria's gentle reply saved you from answering.

"My love...leave off. She is not used to speaking so frankly I think." His gaze swung to his paramour, then back to you.

"My apologies, little mouse. I am weary from my travels and my tongue is not as honeyed as usual. You may go. But bear in mind what I have told you. And-" he held up a warning finger at you - "you will depart these rooms by the proper door this time."

"Yes, my Prince," you assented, and bowed low to both of them before walking backwards from the room and closing the doors behind you. You could hear splashing and Ellaria give a little squeal that was quickly muffled, presumably by some part of Oberyn's body. A part of you wished you could watch them with each other.

The cooks that you worked under berated you mightily for your absence, and threatened to beat you for a liar too when you insisted that it was Prince Oberyn himself that had detained you from your duties. Your life settled back into its usual monotonous routine, with the exception of you keeping the promise you had sworn to the Prince - you never went to the baths without at least one other person. You spotted Jacor a few times but managed to ignore him when you had others around you. There was never a need to call upon the Sand Snakes, but you saw Obara stamping around the barracks more often than you had previously, and Nymeria's graceful presence was more often noted around the gardens and fountains. On the occasions that you saw Oberyn or Ellaria, you kept your eyes lowered and presumed that they did not notice you. Time passed and you started to almost believe you had imagined that you had been so close and so naked to the Prince and he to you, but sometimes his face came to you in dreams, his eyes dark and lustful, his big hands roving over Ellaria's naked body, and you would go to Mari then to relieve your tensions in the tangle of your bodies.

A month or so went by and the Prince's birthday fast approached. Though the kitchen was always a whirl of hurried activity, this increased the closer it came to the feasts that were to be held in his honour. Every day was frenetic and long and weary, and you began to think fondly of the time when your normal duties would resume and you could fall into bed without being asleep before your head hit the pillow. The palace had been a bubbling hive of activity elsewhere too, and on the rare occasions you did manage to set foot outside the kitchens, you noted an increase in decorations. It was always clean and tidy, but now it positively gleamed. New sweet smelling rushes were scattered on the floors, fat scented candles were in every sconce, spiders were evicted and their cobwebs cleaned, and the banner of House Martell flapped from rafters and was affixed to the few walls that were not already decorated with tapestries.

There were to be three full days of merriment. Day one had already passed without incident, aside from one Lord rumoured to have caused a fuss when loud noise had prevented him from sleeping when he wished to. That "noise" had been Oberyn, Ellaria and any number of additional bodies in his chambers. Prince Doran had apologised profusely and insisted that Oberyn apologise too. He had done so, but with an edge to his voice that revealed he was not actually sorry for his actions in the slightest. The Lord had been mightily embarrassed at the whole thing and had not shown his face from his chambers since. Or such was the talk that swirled around you as you worked in the kitchens the next night, sweating and with cramping fingers.

The head of the serving staff swept into the room and began to engage in urgent conversation with the head cook, who shook her head several times before a thunderous look passed over her face and she snapped her fingers briskly at you. "You! Go with him. Quickly!" You immediately did as you were told and trailed after the man out of the room. He spoke to you as if you were a piece of something nasty that he had trailed into the palace.

"You'll have to do I suppose, if you're all they can spare. You'll be taking over duties from Alys. Clumsy girl slipped in wine and her ankle is swollen. You'll be serving the lower tables. Stay out of the way of their hands. And do NOT drop anything, do you hear?" You replied in the affirmative as he led you to a chamber where a basin of what looked like cold water, soap, a sponge, and a set of serving robes awaited. "Wash the kitchen grease off of you and get dressed. Quickly!" You did as he said, and briefly admired the way the saffron coloured robes hung upon your frame before joining him once again outside the door. He immediately shoved a tray of coarse, dark, yeasty bread that was already sliced into your hands and wordlessly led you through a huge set of wooden double doors to the main feasting hall. The noise was incredible, with cups and crockery banging on wooden tables, the roar of semi-drunken and fully drunken voices raised in chatter and occasional song and almost drowning out the troupe of minstrels that sat near to the high table. You noted Prince Doran's seat was empty, as it so often was these days, but you did see Oberyn attending to Ellaria. He was smiling benevolently upon her as he fed her one of the small, sticky coconut treats that you had helped make the previous evening. The head of the serving staff snapped his fingers at you warningly and directed you to the tables you would be waiting upon for the night. As soon as you approached, you felt his gaze heavy on the back of your neck. Jacor. Luckily, you were not serving him, but you still felt the lechery of his look from two tables away and inwardly sighed. Another obstacle to navigate tonight.

There was little time to think. The evening was a near constant rush of fetching and carrying and increasingly dodging the wandering hands of the lesser folk and soldiers that you were serving. Everything seemed to be going pretty smoothly - at the very least you hadn't slipped or spilled anything on anyone. You almost forgot about Jacor. And that's when he struck. As you were carrying a jug of one of the less sophisticated Dornish reds through one of the dim passageways that led to the main hall, he grabbed you from the shadows - one large hand wrapping itself around your upper arm, the other covering your mouth and stifling your scream. Instinctively, you hurled the jug at his head as hard as you could. But he was so tall it bounced harmlessly off the wide expanse of his shoulder, instead merely soaking him in the alcohol. He was extremely displeased.

"Little bitch," he hissed at you. "I'll make you pay for that. And for everything else. I know you want it, bitch. And don't you worry, I'll give it to you." As he was talking he pushed you until you were pressed against the opposite wall, the blows you were attempting to land glancing harmlessly off the solid leather of his jerkin. Your cheek was shoved painfully against the stone, your whole body was crowded up against it as he pressed himself against you from behind, getting harder by the second. The hand that had been on your arm wound its way down to your breast where he groped you so roughly that you gasped in pain against his palm. "Does that feel good, you little slut?" he demanded, and without waiting for an answer, his hand then fumbled clumsily at the fabric of your robe as you desperately thrashed against his weight, trying to bite, to scream, to make yourself known to anybody but him...

The hand arrested in its movement. His cock began to lessen against you. You stayed very still, not knowing what granted the reprieve but desperately hoping for it to continue.

"Well, well, " came a harmonic, silken voice that was presently displaying deadly politeness. "What do we have here, sister?"

"Looks like someone who doesn't understand what a willing woman looks like," came a coarser voice that was full to the brim of barely concealed rage.

"I agree. And didn't our own father tell us what must be done with such?"

"They should be put down, like the animals they are."

The weight of Jacor was suddenly fully lifted from you, and his disgusting, sweaty hand removed from your mouth. You turned, straightening your robe as you did so, to be met by the beautiful sight of Obara and Nymeria, both of whom were armed with long knives in both hands, all of which were pointed at extremely vulnerable points on Jacor's person.

"She-she did want me. Its just our...little game. Tell them, girl!" he stammered, the undertone of his voice not half so dangerous now that he was surrounded by Sand Snakes.

"Oh, I think not," hummed Nymeria. "You are a liar, as well as a beast."

"She is merely a kitchen girl," Jacor fumed. "Would your father truly choose the word of one such as her over me, who provides such loyal service to Dorne-"

"Service that is bought and paid for by Dorne, you mean," chimed in Obara. "And I think your service is definitely at an end."

"And besides," came the familiar purring tones of Oberyn as he stepped forth from the shadows behind his daughters, "did not you think it foolish as to insult a Prince of Dorne in such a way at his own palace? His own table? No, we have no need of your kind here. Or anywhere for that matter." As Oberyn had been speaking he had come to face Jacor. He was a good half head shorter than the mercenary and not nearly as wide, but still managed to look bigger than him somehow. As he spoke the last word, you saw a gleam of a blade in the dark, faster than any you had seen before, and Jacor was suddenly bent double, now shorter than the Prince. "Take him away to the cells," Oberyn said dismissively to the armed guards that had suddenly also appeared from the shadows. "Give him naught but water. Go with them, my daughters. Do as you wish with him, but do not kill him. The poison I have put in his gut is slow and painful. He does not deserve a reprieve from this."

As the scraping sounds of Jacor being forcibly dragged away down the stone passageway faded, Oberyn turned to you. You couldn't see much of him by the dim light, but his voice was kindly when he spoke. "Are you alright little mouse?" You nodded. "Do not lie to your Prince," he urged you, but his voice was still soft and warm. "I can see that you tremble. Come." He took your hand and put it on his arm, leading you through the back passages of the palace until you reached the familiar large corridor where his chambers were. As he stepped inside, Ellaria came forward to greet you both and as Oberyn gently removed your hand from his arm, she took your face in her hands, lifting your chin with soft care so she could search your eyes with her own.

"Are you alright, sweet thing? Did he-"

You shook your head. "No. He pushed himself against me and groped me but...that is all."

"It is enough!" exclaimed Ellaria. "Come, let us take care of you."

"But, my Prince, my Lady. He is right, I am just a kitchen girl and-" Ellaria's soft finger gently brushed your lips and you fell silent.

"Kitchen girl or daughter of mine, none should be forced. Let us take care of you." This time, it was a command and you acquiesced, letting Ellaria lead you to the bathroom where hot water waited once more in the green marble tub. "Wash, dear. Then you may eat. And sleep. The Prince has commanded you stay with us tonight." She smiled at your wide eyes and correctly guessed what you were thinking. "The Prince does not take what is not offered freely. You know this. And he expects nothing of that nature from you. He will speak with you himself in good time. I will come and check on you momentarily"

You dared to catch Ellaria's hand as she went to depart from the room. "Thank you, my Lady. You are both so kind to me." She smiled and kissed your forehead before she departed. You shed your robe and put it neatly on the stool before sinking into the warmth of the water. It simultaneously soothed your body and your mind, the oils that had been added making your mind blissfully peaceful and relaxed. You had hardly begun to wash when Ellaria reappeared with a flagon of wine and two glasses.

"Allow me," she murmured after she put the flagon and glasses in the alcove next to you.

"But-" Ellaria gave you a look that clearly said she would brook no argument and you gave yourself over to her gentle hands in your hair. She washed and rinsed you, then stroked your cheek and turned your face to hers once more.

"As I said, the Prince expects nothing and nor do I. But you are very pleasing to us both. Think on it, my dear. If you do not wish it, you can return to your life in the kitchen and all will be as it was. If it is something that you do want...we will be gentle. And as slow as you wish. I know what it is for a man to presume. It can take time to heal. We want you to be comfortable with us." She smiled as she stroked your wet hair away from your face and your heart gave a little lurch within you, much as it had for Oberyn.

"I-I do wish it, my Lady-"

"Ellaria. Here I am Ellaria and he is Oberyn." Her voice suddenly became a little more stern. "Only here. And only with we three."

You nodded your understanding. "E-Ellaria. I do wish it. But I may need a little time. Especially with the Prince-"

"I know my dear, you are somewhat unknown to a man. Something our Prince is eager to remedy, should you desire him!" She quirked an eyebrow at you and smiled and you couldn't stop the answering giggle that emerged. "Would you...let me sit with you? Here? Now? I will not touch you nor expect you to touch me if you do not wish it. But we could have a cup of wine in the bath and be merry for a time." You nodded eagerly, wishing to please Ellaria, but also wanting to see her naked again. She stood and disrobed once more, this time courting your gaze as your eyes drank in her beauty. She entered the bath and sat opposite you before pouring wine into the glasses she had provided. It was better than anything you had ever tasted and you sighed in pleasure as you took your first sips. Ellaria's dark eyes observed you from behind her own glass. "Such gorgeous noises you make," she remarked, and you felt a heat in your cheeks. "And you blush so prettily. Tell me, how many years have you?"

"Five and twenty, my L-Ellaria."

She nodded. "Only fifteen years shy of Oberyn and ten years of I."

"He-O-Oberyn-he is very beautiful."

"That he is, my dear. It shall please him to hear it from your own lips."

"I hear," came Oberyn's low rumble from beyond the door. "I wonder if I might be permitted entrance to this room of delights?"

Ellaria looked at you questioningly and you hesitated. "If you do not feel comfortable, tell him," she urged gently.

"It's not that. I am just not sure that I will be pleasing to him. My hands are rough and scarred from the kitchens. I have naught to offer such as you two."

"Invite him in. And he will show you what you can offer him. He has a way of doing that," Ellaria said dreamily. You nodded.

"Please enter, my Prince," you said, aware of just how upside down this whole situation was and grateful for how much freedom and privilege you were being granted. Oberyn came into the room. His golden tunic was open and his chest bare and you couldn't help the way your eyes moved over his skin, taking in every inch. He moved your robe and brought the stool next to the bath where he sat. He held his hand out to you and you gave him yours whereupon he began to stroke the back of it.

"I care not that your hands are rough, little mouse," he said gently. "Are not mine also? Wielding weapons or wielding utensils, we are strong and capable. Take Elliara's hand too. Do you feel the callous there on her palm? It is precious to me, that callous. It means she can defend herself. I have no need for soft princesses in castles. Are we Lannisters that we know not how to protect ourselves without armies and fleets and walls?"

"No, my Pr-" you began, but he held up a warning finger. "No, Oberyn," you smiled and he brought your hand to his lips and kissed it.

"As Ellaria said, we wish for you to be with us if that is something you desire too. Tonight, you dictate the pace, beautiful girl. Your first time with a man...it must be a pleasure for all." You looked at Oberyn for a few moments, taking him in. His hair was curling around his ears and over his forehead, his beard was increasingly flecked with grey but still neat and kept, his lips were plush and warm as they moved softly over your hand and his eyes...his eyes never left your face, their dark depths drinking you in and lit with desire. Your breath hitched in your chest at the thought of him between your thighs and he smiled knowingly at you before turning his attention to Ellaria. "My love, I shall retire to the other room for a while and leave you two beautiful women with each other. There is a lordling whom I think was more interested in me than passing fancy-" A mild panic seized your chest at the thought of Oberyn spending the night with someone other than you or Ellaria and you squeezed his hand. He turned back to you, his expression curious.

"If it is pleasing to you, Oberyn...I-I should like-" He squeezed your hand encouragingly. "I should like you to stay. And watch. Or...I can watch. You and Ellaria. I have...dreamt many a time of such a thing." The words did not come easily to you and you found yourself unable to meet his gaze as you said them. He put his hand under your chin and tipped your face to him.

"There is nothing that would give me more pleasure," he replied, and you believed him with all of your heart. You turned your attention back to Ellaria and moved toward her through the water on all fours, feeling the heat of Oberyn's gaze rake your backside and breasts when they were revealed as you shifted. But his gaze was not proprietory, as it had been with the mercenary and it did not make you uncomfortable. Instead, your arousal flared within you as you considered the Prince watching you approvingly. Ellaria's eyes were soft as they looked upon you, and her lips moulded to yours beautifully as you kissed her. A soft moan escaped her as your tongue gently ran over her lower lip and she opened herself to you gladly. She tasted of the wine, and sweet honey and spices and your hand came to her waist to pull her closer to you, wanting to feel as much of her as you could.

She broke the kiss and her voice was tender as she asked "Can I touch you, dear one? Here. I wish to kiss away the hurt." Her fingers ghosted over your left breast, the one that Jacor had groped so heinously, and you whispered your assent and knelt back on your heels, the better for her to reach you.

Oberyn gave a sharp intake of breath beside you. "Such beauty," he murmured as his eyes raked over your breasts, and your own gaze couldn't help but be drawn to the shape forming in his breeches. Ellaria kissed you again, and trailed her lips softly down your jaw and neck and clavicle until she reached the swell of your breast. The imprint of Jacor's fingers stood starkly red and black upon you and she kissed each one before lowering to your nipple and twisting her tongue lightly, making you shiver and gasp with pleasure. You looked across at Oberyn and his eyes were darker than you had ever seen them, and his cock was straining mightily at the material of his breeches. But he merely watched, making no move to touch himself or either of you. You sensed he was waiting for your explicit permission to be involved. As Ellaria moved her mouth to your other breast, her fingers took up gently teasing over the abandoned nipple, making you groan and your thighs clench together.

"Please, Oberyn, kiss me," you begged, and immediately he bent forward and pressed his lips to yours, his tongue massaging yours and causing the tingles of pleasure from Ellaria's attentions to you to be magnified enormously. She hummed and took her mouth from you, massaging your breasts gently instead and seeming to be content watching Oberyn kiss you as if it were the last thing he would ever do.

As he broke the kiss, she turned your head back to her and nuzzled your nose lightly with her own. "Come, sweet thing," she whispered. "Stand and let your Prince see you fully." She stood herself and gave you her hands to assist. When you were stood in front of her directly, you realised she was taller than you and you had to crane upwards a little to reach her lips. Kissing her again, you ran your hands over the soft swell of her breasts, cupping them lightly and feeling her hard nipples under your fingers.

"A little harder, beautiful girl," came Oberyn's instruction, and you obeyed, eliciting another pleasured moan from Ellaria. "That's it. She likes her tits to be played with a little roughly. You're so fucking stunning together," he said, sounding as though he had never seen two women in this way before - something you definitively knew not to be true. You kissed down Ellaria's shoulder, your eyes straying once more to Oberyn.

"I should like to see your cock, my Prince," you said boldly, in between kisses. His eyebrow shot up and a smile quirked his beautiful lips.

"Then use my name, darling girl," he smirked.

"Oberyn," you sighed. "I should like to see you stroke your cock." By the time you had finished your sentence, he had dragged his length from his breeches and was doing just that - his hand rubbing his own wetness over his tip and down his shaft as far as it would go. Ellaria suddenly sank to her knees in front of you again, moving one of your legs to rest on the alcove and examining with delight what you were presenting to her.

"I should like to taste you," she declared, but you understood it to be a request rather than a demand and nodded, the thrill in your abdomen increasing at the sight of her beautiful eyes staring up at you from between your legs. Mari had touched you many times with her tongue, but still Ellaria's skill made your knees weak and your breath come shallow and when she added a finger inside of you, your moans of pleasure echoed around the bathroom.

Oberyn suddenly stood. "If you are willing," he said in a low and sensuous tone, "I should like to move this to the bedchamber. I dearly wish to fuck my Ellaria whilst she buries her face in that beautiful cunt of yours. I wish to see your face under me as you come, beautiful girl."

You gave your enthusiastic assent, and Oberyn himself lifted first Ellaria and then you from the bathtub. Though he claimed to be getting old, his strength was still very present and you enjoyed the feeling of his hard cock brushing over your skin as he moved you. Ellaria took one of your hands, and Oberyn the other and secure between them in this way you moved to Oberyn's bed. You lay down, and Ellaria immediately caged your shoulders with her arms and kissed you deeply again before trailing her tongue lightly down the sensitive skin of your neck, down your breast and softly over your nipple, all the way to your clit where she resumed her joyous lapping. Her attentions felt even better now that she was more comfortably between your legs and you found yourself making a keening noise at the pleasure that was spreading its heat throughout your veins. Oberyn was suddenly above your face, his large hand caressing your jaw and following the path Ellaria's tongue had made moments earlier. His fingers danced nimbly over your sensitive nipple, capturing the bud and rolling it between finger and thumb and then swallowing your moans with his mouth, his tongue pressing hot and heavy into your mouth. The feelings they were teasing from you between them were almost too overwhelming for you and as if Oberyn sensed that you were getting close to your release, he raised himself again and positioned himself behind Ellaria. You leant up on your elbows, wanting to see the expressions that would pass over the faces of the beautiful couple in front of you

"See," said Oberyn, "she becomes greedy for us." He gave a wicked smile and grasped Ellaria by the hips, pulling her backside upward so that her cunt could meet his cock. She hummed with delight at his words and at the feeling of her lover's hands on her, but never once broke the dance of her talented tongue against your clit. She positioned two fingers against your entrance, and as Oberyn breached her, so she breached you and all three of you gave filthily loud moans. Hearing them most definitely spurred you on and you felt your cunt clench around her fingers as your pleasure ramped up.

"Mmmm my love, she is already close. Such a-ngh-such a responsive little thing," Ellaria commented, her voice already muffled against your cunt, now also made tremulous with Oberyn's thrusts behind her. She gave a deep sigh as Oberyn pushed forward harshly once more and then stopped, shuffling forward on his knees and grinding into her as far as he could. "Fuck my love, yes. Yes that's so good!"

Oberyn's eyes were black and glittering in the candlelight of the room and he gave you a beautiful half smile at the praise from his paramour. He bent over her back and reached for your breast, playing with your nipple once again as he resumed the roll of his hips into Ellaria. Gasping at the pleasure, you took your other breast in your own hand and the Prince hummed his approval. "Make her come. Make her come so I may see her pretty face in pleasure." Ellaria redoubled her efforts at your clit and pressed her fingers into you at the sweetest of spots and you came undone, unable to even try to stifle the cries of your pleasure as they echoed around the room. The Prince's eyes never left your face, and they drank you in as greedily as Ellaria lapped at your arousal. She coaxed the second and wrung the third orgasm out of you, until you were panting, your voice a little hoarse from your cries.

"Pretty girl. Beautiful girl." Oberyn cooed, as he let go of your breast and trailed his hand over Ellaria, down to where they were joined, where he began stroking over her clit judging by the sudden changes in the sounds she was making. "Now will you help me make my love feel as good as she did you?" You were only to happy to oblige and turned so that your head was now facing Ellaria's upside down. You reached up to kiss her before shuffling down to take one of her nipples in your mouth and play with the other with your hand. Your other hand reached up and stroked a path down the smooth skin of her abdomen until you reached her mound, whereupon Oberyn allowed you to take over the circles he had been rubbing on her clit. His hand withdrew and you felt his position shift somewhat before the force of his fucking increased above you. Your thumb continued to rub Ellaria's clit but you couldn't resist your curiosity and your fingers wandered a little to feel where Oberyn was spearing her deeply, his balls now brushing your fingers as he quickened his pace even more. "Fuck! Yes. That's it. You perfect creature," panted Oberyn as he felt your touch. Ellaria meanwhile was moaning his name and your own breathlessly, and you could feel how her wetness was increasingly coating his cock and your thumb with every passing moment. "She nears," Oberyn grunted. "And I too." You nibbled and bit more insistently at her breast and pinched her other nipple a little more cruelly and you felt the moment she snapped, her cunt clenching and squelching lewdly above your hand as she cried out wordlessly, and Oberyn's balls tensed as he thrust the last half dozen times, spilling himself inside of Ellaria and uttering frantic curses as he did so.

You shuffled forward, kissing her briefly again on your way past and sat up to watch your lovers. Oberyn withdrew himself and you couldn't help but bite your lip as your gaze was drawn to where their release was mingled on his cock. You were speaking before you could stop yourself.

"May I taste you?" you whispered. "I wish to know what you taste like together."

"Have you ever used your mouth on a man before?" he asked. You nodded. "Then come, but be gentle. You know how sensitive a person can be after such a time." His cock was still impressive when it was getting soft and you sank to your knees in front of him before licking a stripe on his underside and gently taking him into your mouth. The salty sharpness of his spend and the sweet tang of Ellaria's was a delightful mix and you had to be mindful of what Oberyn had said to you before you got carried away. You licked and sucked him clean with great care and when you withdrew both he and Ellaria were observing you with reverence and gentle adoration - he from above you and she from the bed. Oberyn helped to your feet and drew you close to him, the gorgeous musky smell of his masculinity enveloping you as he brought you into his embrace.

"Little beauty," he whispered as he kissed your hair. "I hope we may have many such times together." He walked you backward to the bed where you all but fell into Ellaria's embrace. She wrapped her arms around you from behind and Oberyn lay in front of you, his own arm snaking over your waist for his hand to rest on Ellaria's. "Rest well with us," he said. "You are safe here, and loved."

You traced a small circular pattern over the sweat-flushed skin of his chest. "I love you both well, too," you confessed. "And I wish to be yours completely, Oberyn, as I have been Ellaria's this night."

He smiled affectionately at you. "Whenever you wish, dearest. I am your humble servant in this endeavour." He kissed your forehead and moved closer to you, so that your cheek rested upon his chest and you dozed with them both, secure in the warm glow of their tenderness.

#oberyn martell x you #ellaria sand x you #oberyn martell x ellaria sand x you #oberyn martell x reader #ellaria sand x reader #oberyn martell x ellaria sand x reader #oberyn martell x female reader #ellaria sand x female reader #oberyn martell x ellaria sand x female reader #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #oberyn martell fanfiction #writer wednesday

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cateyemoons · 4 years ago

Text

play nice. (a little blurb)

pairing: nate jacobs x oc

warnings: a little smutty

note: first time publishing anything that i’ve written so i’m nervous af. this little blurb came from a little fic that i’ve been fiddling with. hope you enjoy.

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They say that Chris McKay’s parties were always the biggest and baddest parties, especially the one signalling the end of summer.

They also say that it was tradition for everyone to attend.

Well, she didn’t want to start off her first year at the new school by breaking tradition.

She had her reservations about having to start over in senior year but what could she do? She was still under her parents’s control but she swore to herself that once she was finished with school, she’d pack up her things and head back to the city, back to everything that she knew and loved.

For now, she decided to have some fun and this party seemed to be the first step.

The rumors were true-- this party was massive and wild, just as wild as the parties she attended in her old hometown. As soon as she entered the place, she was ushered into the kitchen by a bunch of strangers-- just kids who wanted everyone to have a good time. She downed the shots that were handed to her. Some of the guys tried to coax her into hanging out with them but she brushed them off with a laugh. One in particular, named Daniel would not stop. His hands were all over her.

“C’mon, don’t leave me hanging with blue balls.”

She smirked at him, grabbing the bottle from the table. She was ready to move on from him-- what a drip.

“At least you got your right hand to keep you company.”

She slipped away from him, taking a swig of vodka. She observed her new surroundings, the new people that she would soon attend classes with. No one noticed her. They were too involved in their own little world of drugs, alcohol and sex. Already she could see a number of hands down pants, tongues in each other’s mouths only to take a break to consume some more alcohol. She saw a number of people hand in hand and going upstairs, downstairs, outside and into other rooms.

It was like she never left home.

She turned a corner, bumping into people as she tried to squeeze through. Going down this route led her to another guy practically devouring another girl’s face. He was a massively tall guy-- was he part tree or something? Chiseled jawline, muscles in all the right places. His hands were all over the girl, sliding down to her ass as she finally pried her lips off his and started to kiss his neck.

She caught his eyes on her, a smirk on his face. He winked.

She felt a little bit of heat forming in the pit of her stomach. He was definitely attractive and she could tell with the look on his face that he knew that about himself. She liked confidence in a guy. She wouldn’t mind having him in her bed for a night.

She winked back with a smirk of her own. But she went outside, not really wanting to have a reputation of a pervert that likes watching other people get down and dirty.

Another swig of her bottle and her vision was starting to blur. But she managed to make out the big swimming pool, the pool lights lighting up the water and in the pool were a blonde guy and a girl that they were calling Maddy. And by the looks and sounds of it, they were having the greatest time in the pool.

“Ohhhh man, Nate’s not going to be happy about this.”

“Didn’t they JUST break up?”

“It’s like the millionth time.”

Smells toxic to me, she thought to herself.

“Jesus, she’s so fucking hot, Tyler is so fucking lucky to be fucking her like this.”

“Lucky?? Nate’s gonna murder him.”

“At least he’d die a happy man.”

She snorted, watching Maddy fuck the guy in the pool before averting her eyes. She didn’t know Maddy, this Nate guy and their relationship but it was clear that they were not good for each other. It was also clear that they broke up and made up quite often. But she had to hand it to Maddy- she knew exactly how to mess with a guy and fuck with his head.

Fucking another guy in the pool at the same party that her ex-boyfriend was attending would do exactly that.

There was a low rumble from the crowd and she looked towards the direction with a bit of an amused grin on her face. The guy that she had thought to have some tree DNA had come outside to bear witness to his ex-girlfriend’s antics. She could see the rage slowly building up from within, his brows furrowed deeply and the jealousy in his eyes. His hand held his cup tight while the other turned into a fist.

She guessed that this was Nate Jacobs.

“Yeah, that’s real classy, you fucking whore,” he spat out maliciously.

Maddy and the guy stopped their pool sex session and Maddy had a shitfaced grin on her face. Her eyes cried out, “WINNER!” as she looked up at her angry ex-boyfriend.

“Suck my DICK.”

With a snarl, Nate threw down his cup and turned back around. She tried to get out of his way but he ended up shoulder-checking her as he made his way back inside. He didn’t even bother to look at who he had knocked into. He kept walking, his temper rising with every step he took.

Any sort of attraction she had towards him disappeared. “Prick,” she muttered.

Her stomach decided to grumble. She knew the alcohol was doing its work when she had the munchies. She decided to head back inside and maybe find something to snack on. The kitchen wasn’t too crowded this time and that guy Daniel was nowhere to be seen. She poked and peeked into each cabinet and drawer, in hopes to find something to eat, even something small. What kind of party didn’t have anything to munch on?

There was a loud crash and the sounds of glass shattering right behind her and she almost shit herself. Turning around, she found Nate in a fit of fury, slamming down the bottle and pushing off all the shot glasses and beer cans from the kitchen counter. He turned around to punch the cabinet door, screaming at everyone to get out.

“Get out! GET THE FUCK OUT!” he snarled.

She remained where she was. He hadn’t seen her and maybe she would go unnoticed. In the bright light of the kitchen, she realized exactly how tall he was and how red his face had gotten due to his fit of rage. His chest was heaving hard. She could practically see the steam coming out of his ears. He leaned back against the counter, closing his eyes to get himself back under control.

She turned back around, quietly rummaging through the cabinet. She spotted a bag of chips in the far back and grabbed it. She opened it up and started munching. God, the potato chips tasted so good in her mouth.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

She nearly jumped at the low growl in her ear and she turned around to find herself face to face with Nate Jacobs.

So much for going unnoticed.

“I’m eating,” she answered nonchalantly. She held the bag up to him. “Want some?”

She knew she shouldn’t poke at the bear like this but she couldn’t help it. She wasn’t afraid of confrontation. Even if it was against someone as tall and muscular as Nate Jacobs.

She watched his eyes darken. She knew what was going on in his head. Even without knowing him, she knew who he was. Judging by the whispers and comments that the others had made about him, Nate Jacobs was The Guy of this town. He was the popular, big time, and she assumed by his build, jock king of East Highland. Therefore, everyone else were his peasants. He was used to this social hierarchy. Everyone should be bowing down to him, including her.

But she wasn’t going to do that for him, even if she found him to be insanely attractive.

“Didn’t you hear me? I said get the fuck out,” he repeated.

“Yeah well, I’m hungry and it’s pretty loud out there. So I think I’ll hang out in the kitchen for a little bit longer, thanks.”

Nate’s face contorted just a little, in a bit of surprise. “You’re not scared of me?”

She laughed in his face. “Why should I be? I’ve seen and met a lot worse.”

She took a step back, her lower back hitting the counter top edge when Nate stepped forward, closing the space between them. He bent over just a little, his eyes roaming over her body and then her face. They seemed to be searching for something, probably searching for the reason why she was not scared of him, like the rest of them.

“You’re the new girl that people have been talking about at this party,” he simply stated, with no anger or annoyance in his voice this time.

“That’d be me,” She said, continuing to munch on chips.

She watched his tongue slip out from his mouth, licking his bottom lip. “How about you and I get to know each other? It’s tough starting over in a new place. You’re going to need a new friend. I can be that for you, you know,” he murmured, his face inching closer to hers.

“Is that right?” she asked, amused by his sudden change in mood.

The way guys changed tactics and moods when their dicks were hard. Amazing, really.

She tossed the bag of chips aside, making a big show of licking her fingers clean in front of him. She licked her fingers slowly, never breaking eye contact with him. His face was so close to hers that she could see his eyes grow wide with pleasure. She couldn’t help but smirk when she slid her finger in deeper, when she could hear him panting at the sight of it. She knew he was just picturing her pretty red lips wrapped around his cock.

She loved fucking with men like this. It was their one true weakness.

She was going to take full advantage of that.

“Yeah.. yeah, that’s right, baby,” he said softly, his lips curling upwards.

“Oh… I don’t know, Nate,” she said with a loud sigh. “All boys say that, you know? But they’re all bark and no bite.”

“You just haven’t met me yet, I’m not just any guy.” He dipped his face into the crook of her neck and she let him. She tilted her head back just a little bit, why not have a little pleasure for herself? Besides, he was very good at this. Her body was naturally heating up at his touch, especially right between her legs. His lips trailed up to her earlobe, nibbling her earlobe before speaking again. “Oh I’ll bite.”

“I bite too,” she said, pushing his face away with a laugh. “I don’t think you’d be able to handle it.”

“I think it might be the other way around,” he fired back, taking her hand and placing it right at his crotch.

If this was the reason why Maddy kept going back to him, well she wasn’t going to judge her too quick. He was a big boy in more ways than one.

She hadn’t expected that. Nor did she expect her underwear to become soaked.

When she looked back up at Nate, she saw the triumphant smile on his face. He knew the effect that he had on him.

Well, two can play that game.

“I think it’s you that won’t be able to handle me, baby,” he whispered, bringing his face close to hers once more, trying to kiss her but she pulled her head back.

She bit her bottom lip, looking up at him with very round and innocent eyes. “Oh, is that right?” Her lips turned into a sexy smirk when his eyelids fluttered and his jaw dropped open as she cupped him tight through his jeans.

“Oh fuck-,” he gasped.

She watched his eyes close tight, enjoying the feel of her warm hand rubbing and squeezing him. He had both hands on either side of her, gripping the counter top. She knew every drop of blood was flooding to his dick right now. His cock was rock hard for her. He wasn’t going to be able to form a complete sentence.

“You still sure I won’t be able to handle you? Or are you gonna change your mind?” she asked as she moved her hand faster.

Nate groaned louder at the sudden change in speed. He leaned forward and she pressed her forehead against his, watching all the pleasure wash over his face. “Fuck, I-I… I change my mind, fuck baby…” He managed to open his eyes, panting hard. “There’s a room upstairs, come with me.”

“Come with you? Upstairs? So I can get down on my knees and suck your fat cock?” she teased, squeezing him a little harder. His big body shuddered and she decided to keep putting these images into his mind. “Bet you’d like that, hm? You’d like watching your cock disappear in my mouth, hm?” A chill went down her spine at the thought of looking up at this guy while she was on her knees. It probably wouldn’t be a bad sight to see.

“FUCK YES, oh baby, please,” he begged with a growl, his entire body trembling. His hands gripped her hips tight, pulling her closer but she wouldn’t let him kiss her. Not yet. “God, I need to fuck you so bad.”

She had him by the balls now. Literally.

“Let’s go then,” she whispered into his ear, letting out a breathy moan to tantalize him even more, giving him a preview of what was to come.

In an instant, he took her by the hand and all but dragged her out of the kitchen. The sea of people parted for him and everyone whispered and pointed their fingers. She smiled at everyone and when they made it to the stairs, she pulled her hand away and headed towards the front door.

“HEY!” Nate grabbed her hand again. “Where are you going?”

“Home. Where are you going?” she feigned confusion.

“But you said-,”

She laughed, pulling her hand out of his grip once more. “Did you really think I’d fuck you?”

“Y-you-,”

“Enjoy the rest of the party, baby!”

Slamming the door on his shocked face, she laughed and started running. The adrenaline from teasing the shit out of Nate had her sprinting down the street. She could probably do a full marathon tonight if she wanted to.

She loved teasing guys like him. Teasing and riling them, playing around with them. Getting their hopes and dicks up, making them think that they were going to get it in with her. Acting like she wanted them to pound her straight into the bed, only to pull back and deny them. Leaving them with only their right hand to keep them company. Making them realize that they weren’t shit, that they were losers, that they were nothing. Doing this got her more horny than an actual guy ever could.

It’s a shame that he was such a prick. She wouldn’t have mind having him pound the shit out of her with that big dick of his. She bet that he was all kinds of fun in the bedroom. But now he was going to be left alone with blue balls and his right hand, just like that other kid Daniel.

And that’s what you get for being an asshole, she thought with a proud grin.

#nate jacobs #euphoria #nate jacobs x oc #nate jacobs imagine #nate jacobs smut #euphoria smut #jacob elordi #euphoria fic #nate jacobs fic

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arinbelle · 4 years ago

Text

Nesta + Cassian One-Shot

Note: This was written before ACOSF so...bear with me I suppose? Like yeah, Nesta is a witch who does blood magic and yes they live in Illyria. Nesta will never not be a witch for me, even in post-ACOSF fics. Like I will never not try to sneak in witchy elements because...come on! Witch Nesta!!!!

But anyways, this fic was in my drafts since...November? Of last year? Too long, way too long, and honestly it just needs to go. It was also not supposed to be this long but I went a little overboard and so it is what it is. I also just read the best most heartbreaking Nesta fic ever so I did not edit this, I am simply too shattered. So I’m letting this one-shot out into the wild without Grammar Check- apologies in advance. Let me know what you think! I haven’t written in so long and I love to hear feedback.

Summary: Nesta gets worried when Cassian is late to return home from a mission. She decides to do a locating spell and it doesn’t go according to plan.

~*~

Promises- 7.2k words

The first day she ignored it. That niggling feeling of unease that had wormed its way into the pit of her stomach and wouldn’t leave her be. She learned to suppress her attention away from it that entire day. And when she couldn’t fall asleep because it wasn’t going away, she knocked back two fingers of whiskey and resolutely made up her mind to let it go.

Sleep came, albeit fitfully, but it did come.

The second day was more difficult. No one was around to distract her. Emerie was busy with work that she refused to let Nesta help with. Perhaps her friend thought Nesta was absolutely idiotic and could not scent the Morrigan lurking upstairs in Emerie’s bedroom. The healers weren’t busy at all either, mostly because all the males that could have been injured were with Cassian, who was not here.

He wasn’t here.

He wasn’t here and it was killing her. He had said the trip should take a week at most. Going to the different camps and royal families high in the Illyrian mountains. Trying to rally support and tentative alliances should another conflict emerge.

Well it had been a week. And now it had been more.

The following night, nothing helped to keep the nightmares away. Not a glass of wine with dinner at an empty table. It reminded her too much of Cassian’s food and how much she missed it. Not a ridiculous smutty novel with horrible banter between the two characters. It made her crave the heated flirting with Cassian instead. She awoke screaming to a myriad of images painfully branded into her mind.

Cassian beheaded. Cassian’s wings torn to shreds. Cassian with a dagger to the chest. Cassian being hanged. Cassian being tortured. Cassian being drowned. Cassian screaming for her.

Cassian never coming home.

By the third day she had had it.

Enough of this.

Something was wrong. That was the only explanation as to why he was three days late to returning home. She had to figure out a way to at least check up on him, if not bring him back to her right this second. She could ask Rhys. He would probably know or at least be able to find out. But Nesta didn’t want Rhys to be aware of how worried she was. Even if she did, it took a lot of energy out of Nesta to bring herself to willingly interact with her sister’s husband.

So she went to the next person she could count on to find out about Cassian.

Herself.

Cassian had warned her to be careful when doing blood magic. That it was volatile magic on the best of days and crippling on the worst. That even though he knew she had come very far in her control of her powers, there were some aspects to witchcraft that even she should not delve into. Too bad Nesta didn’t make it a habit to listen to Cassian.

The Grimoire was cracked in its spine, the binding was falling apart, and yet, Nesta adored it. It had been found by her and Cassian when they had visited an abandoned Illyrian village on the northernmost border. The village had reminded her of the one Cassian had been born in- but this one did not have the darkness of pain and brutality gouged into its essence. It was abandoned but there was something lovely about the remaining thrum of magic left there. She had found the book in a crumbling hut, waiting for Cassian while he had scouted the area in response to reports of creeping ancient beasts terrorizing the neighboring inhabited camp.

The first step in the spell was blood. Self-explanatory if you asked Nesta.

But no one actually did ask Nesta, too afraid of what nefarious spells she could cast her way, which Nesta found highly amusing. She really didn’t know why the Illyrians were so high strung about witches. She was an over glorified cook on most days- following the recipes of potions and chanting her incantations alongside it. Of course she knew it was a rare art and not something just anyone could do. And Nesta could do all nasty sorts of damage if she really wanted to, especially with the vicious possibilities she had read about in the Grimoire.

She hadn’t found a victim yet that had bothered her just enough to go after them with her spells. Well, she had a list of potential victims, but apparently irritating her wasn’t actually a crime. But there was always tomorrow. Cassian didn’t find that particular joke as funny as she did.

After she gathered about a half a cup of the crimson liquid, sloppily bandaging her forearm, she began following the diagrams drawn on the yellowing pages that she was to copy. The finished product was a mess of symbols of another world and letters of the old Illyrian language. She had Cassian and Emerie to thank for her new ability to speak both the dialects. Cassian knew the old tongue because he had been a little older than her, when it had still been spoken, and about a century old when it began to lose prominence. Emerie taught her the common dialect that had formed through centuries of mixing with the Common Tongue as well as southern influences from traders and foreign warriors that came to train with the legions.

The Grimoire utilized the one Cassian had taught her, and as her lips began to move in her intonations, she was reminded of how his lips had formed the syllables when she was first learning. How he had spoken them to her for hours and she still wasn’t grasping them. So he had tried a different method- of speaking them into her skin directly. His lips had danced over the blades of her shoulders, the hollow of her throat, saying deliciously sinful things into her crevices and curves, tongue flicking out every few inches to keep her aware that this was still a lesson- and that playing for real could come later if she was a good student. Nesta had learned her alphabet fairly quickly after that.

She finished with a flourish of her wrists and sat back down, kneeling on the hardwood floor, waiting for the spell to deliver its promise.

Nothing.

A minute crept by. Then two. Then three. Still nothing.

Her legs were starting to go numb. How much longer should she wait? Nesta frowned and spared a glance at the opened page beside her. Had she done something incorrectly? It didn’t happen very often. Actually never. Nesta didn’t mess up her spells. It was an inane thing to hold bragging rights over but damn it, she really just was that good.

So why-

Pain lanced through her, as if a whip covered in fire and poison had been slashed at her insides. She fell over, clutching her stomach in agony, mouth open in a silent scream. She could not move. She could not scream. Nesta thought she could feel her blood boiling in her veins, bursting through the vessels and hemorrhaging as the spell’s foul counterpart began to work on draining her of life.

The Cauldron...

Gods, even the Cauldron hadn’t hurt her to this degree when she’d been shoved under the murky, black waters.

This is it. This is how it ends. Stupid, stupid, stupid. You just couldn’t leave well enough alone could you? You’re going to die and Cassian is going to return completely fine and unharmed to a corpse in his house.

Nausea found her in the despair of pain and soon she was hurling up the contents of her stomach into the symbols that were now just a bloody mess. A mess because tears were beginning to blur her vision and all she could make out was a red glow around the edges of her vision. It was not the red of Cassian’s siphons and the metallic tang of her blood in the air did not calm her as Cassian’s siphons always promised to do.

She passed in and out of consciousness for...hours? Days? She didn’t know. Time stopped existing amongst the torment occurring in her body. And when she finally came to without passing back out from the pain or dehydration for a solid half hour, Nesta made the decision to try and move. It was difficult at first. Her joints were stiff from the inactivity and spasms she had just committed, and as she stood on wobbly legs, the scent of the vomit threatened to knock her back out. It was stupid to do it, risky even, but she waved a hand and some small recess of power that was left cleared away the mess on the ground and off of her clothes. The scent was still there though- of her sick, of the dark magic, of her blood. But she would deal with that later.

She was only satisfied after cleaning out her mouth twice with the spearmint paste that burned her tongue and gums further. When she sank into the scalding water of the bath she had prepared for herself, she let out a soft sigh of relief, and her muscles slowly loosened their tension.

Nesta saw the night sky from the bathroom window and briefly wondered what time it was. Hell, she didn’t even know what day it was anymore.

As Nesta finished rinsing her hair with one of Cassian's soap and as his scent surrounded her, she thought she could cry. Wood and spice and forest. She desperately wished she had gone out and restocked her own toiletries now. She'd run out a few weeks ago and simply raided Cassian’s supply. He hadn't said anything but she noticed the predatory gleam in his eyes when she came out smelling like him.

Territorial fae males and their nonsense.

Not that she was any better. If it were another time she would use it to keep him close, as if his arms were completely wrapped around her and his scent enveloped her whole being. But Cassian was not here and her attempts to locate him had been fruitless. Suddenly her mind was flooded with images from her nightmares of Cassian hurt, and Nesta was about to scream aloud when she heard it.

A door opening. Boots scuffing the floor before being kicked off and hitting the wall. Weapons noisily clattering to the ground in that damned spot she always told him not to put them.

He moved slowly through the hallway, slower than usual, and she could feel how tired he was within herself. That ragged bone deep exhaustion. Nesta silently cursed to herself for not properly cleaning up. The mess of her spell with the blood and her sick was gone but the scent would persist. The feeling of the old magic would not have gone by now and Cassian was about to walk right into the room.

She heard it. The slight trip in his gait as he came to a halt in their sitting room and she suddenly felt panic deep in her gut. His panic, not hers. His breathing faltered for a few seconds and then she heard the slam of his feet as he ran through the house and up the stairs, calling her name.

"Nesta!," he shouted just as he threw open the bathroom door.

He took her in, eyes frantically roaming over her submerged form, his chest rising and falling rapidly. She could hear his hammering heartbeat.

Whole.

Sound.

Alive.

She almost began sobbing right then and there. He was safe and he was home. And she had just gone through the most horrific backfire a spell had ever done to her. It was all too much suddenly and she had to tense every muscle in her body to keep the tears at bay.

"What happened?," he demanded. "I smelled blood and...your Grimoire it...what were you doing Nesta?"

She didn't trust herself to answer without breaking down completely so she sunk lower into the bathwater and closed her eyes.

He didn't move for a minute, but then when she still didn't answer, he began undressing with a heavy sigh. She heard the rasp of leathers moving off of his skin and then even more smaller daggers and the like falling to the ground from whatever pockets he had hidden them in. She tried to keep her eyes closed, she really did. But it couldn’t be helped. Her eyes followed his naked form walk into the standing washroom, taking in that muscled back, the tucked in wings, and the swirling tattoos that glistened on his sweat soaked skin that almost sparkled as the spray of water hit him. She really should have looked away. If he caught her staring he'd demand answers again. But Cassian was Nesta's weakness and she seldom could resist him.

It took every ounce of steel in her to get out of the bathwater and leave the bathing room before he was done with his shower, rather than throw open the door and join him. Really, she should have been rewarded for such fine exhibition of self control.

He found her combing through her wet hair in his bedroom. Now hers too she supposed. He did not approach her though. Didn't even look at her. He plopped straight onto the bed and threw a hand over his eyes, feigning what she knew to be ignorance.

She scowled at him. The audacity. Didn't he know how worried sick she'd been?

Literally sick actually.

Her slightly shaking hands continued brushing her hair long past when it was done, until it began frizzing. She scowled again then at the reflection staring back.

Damn him.

Damn him for being late and damn him for coming back at the worst time ever. And screw him for leaving her alone in the first place and making her worry so much.

But she shouldn’t think like that. She needed to sleep now.

Her eyes had faint violet smudges under them, forming a light bruise that screamed of desperation. How easy would it be for Cassian to know she hadn’t slept even once properly through the night since he’d been gone? He’d likely know right away considering it was Cassian and it was about Nesta.

Her skin had taken on a wan color and Nesta knew she looked sick. Possibly on the verge of collapsing again. Debating with her pride took a few minutes but it was then decided that if she passed out on the floor and cracked her head open, it would be more embarrassing than fainting on the bed. She quickly got up and scurried over to the bed, keeping to the far side and careful not to be too close to him.

Never mind that she craved the warmth of his solid arms around her. Never mind that she desperately needed to feel his heartbeat should she lay her head down on his chest. She didn't move any closer no matter how much she may have desired it.

Nesta had wanted Cassian for herself from the moment she’d seen him. And she had him now. One night wouldn’t kill her.

It wasn’t as if they were particularly happy with the other anyways.

There was a heavy silence between them and she hated it. Usually for Nesta, who could only tolerate so much noise until it began irritating her, and Cassian who always needed to be talking and joking, they worked surprisingly well when they sat in calm silence together. But this was not that light hearted peace they shared together. No this was thick and creating a tangled, thorny barrier between them. Because Cassian knew Nesta was lying. And Nesta knew Cassian could tell. And neither would ever own up to it first.

So she lay silently beside him, feigning sleep. Cassian did the same on his side, although she could have sworn he turned his head slightly towards her every few minutes.

Nesta fell asleep listening to his methodical breathing, curled into her side and facing away from him. When she woke again, sometime in early morning where it was still dark out, he had moved in his sleep and a leg was thrown over her thigh. She could have moved it off of her, probably waking him up. He wouldn't object either. He never forced himself into her personal space anymore, even though they were now more at peace with each other.

But Nesta decided she didn't feel like pushing him away anymore, and that he had a right to know what she was up to if he asked again. If she'd ended up dead he definitely would have found out anyways. And for now, she wanted to enjoy his presence without the fight that was no doubt going to happen. So she carefully tucked closer into his side and put her head into the crook of his neck, trying her best not to wake-

"Mmm...Nesta?"

Damn. Did nothing want to go her way today?

She whispered back a yes, feeling strange about being too loud when the world outside seemed to have gone utterly still. In thrall at what would become of them perhaps, the minute she told him the truth.

He didn't open his eyes, just wrapped a strong arm around her waist and tugged her closer, her legs completely tangling with his.

"Are we fighting again?,” the question came out as a sigh from him.

She had to laugh. "I wasn't aware we had begun the first time."

He opened his eyes at that. And scowled.

She sighed, "No we aren't fighting."

Cassian pulled back for a moment to take her in, and she missed the warmth he had been providing. She was about to ask him to come back, to hell with her pride, but he did it himself. Curled all of her into him, pressing them close in all the right ways that, if they weren’t in this fight that wasn’t really a fight, she wouldn’t have hesitated to take off all their clothes and join herself to him.

“Will you tell me what happened today?” His words were calm and much too polite for her liking. She did not like Cassian calm and patient with her. It made her feel like a nuisance. Like a fragile woman that needed to be treated like fine china, or else she would shatter completely. Did he not remember all the times when he met her bark for bite, shouts for hisses? When he had raised his voice just as loud as hers, louder even, until she was reduced to a mess of tears that he had no idea how to undo?

No he did. He remembered, and ever since, he made it a point to be anything but the gruff Commander with her. And if it weren’t so damn sweet, she’d yell at him for that too- for the special treatment she never asked for, but had always silently cried for.

Nesta shook her head though, unable to form the words that would be her undoing.

Cassian dragged a finger lightly over her cheekbone and she lifted her eyes just a fraction towards his own. It was not a heated kiss when he pressed his lips to her own. Something could lead to more which is what they were prone to do more often than not. Which was also why it’s innocent nature didn’t last for very long.

Soon enough it became more demanding and she gave herself wholly to it while she still could. And right on cue, Cassian pulled away first after a few minutes.

She knew this game. She knew how it was played considering she’d been the first of the two to even initiate it.

That time, months ago, he’d asked her if she would prefer a traditional Illyrian dish for dinner, or if she wanted him to prepare something else. He’d never, not once in all the time she’d been forced to live with him in Illyria, asked her what she liked to eat. Sure, he made food she liked, but it was never asked about beforehand. She just enjoyed his cooking. The dishes she preferred the most, somehow distinguished by him by how much she finished and if she took seconds, always returned whenever he had the time or was in a particularly good mood.

Which, for Cassian, was almost all the time.

So when he’d asked her to decide the dinner for both of them, Nesta had known something was off. The mention about a non-Illyrian meal had tipped her off enough to know that they weren’t eating alone. But when asked outright, Cassian had lied to her face. She’d known he’d lied, she just hadn’t been able to glean the details out from him.

Not right away at least. And so, she’d played the one thing Cassian couldn’t resist and would always fall prey to.

Her.

Before they’d become what they were now, Nesta had fucked Cassian more times than she was ready to admit. While they never spoke of it head on in the very beginning of the arrangement, that wasn’t to say that she never took advantage of it.

Like that time he lied about the dinner. Sensing that she wasn’t going to win without resorting to other methods, she’d walked over to where he’d been mixing something over the stove, grabbed his collar, and pulled. Kissing Cassian with every bit of steel and fire in her being, it had been rough and never ending. Smooth and yet so tumultuous.

However, while she’d begun their little skirmish, Cassian had quickly gone into the running for victor and was headed for a solid win. Until Nesta had pulled away and asked what he was hiding from her. It didn’t work right away. Hazel eyes had narrowed accusingly at her and he’d stepped away from her, averting his gaze from the very sheer, very low-cut gown she’d just happened to find in her closet.

She hadn’t felt a shred of remorse after the fourth or maybe fifth time she’d captured his lips with her own that night, shamelessly pressing against him until finally, finally she’d had him admit that Feyre and Rhys were coming for dinner.

Nesta had forgone the anger and instead decided to drag this game out a little while longer. Just as she’d wanted, Rhys and Feyre had ended up uninvited by Cassian, who’d hastily scrawled out a note to be magicked over to Rhys to not show up. All while Nesta had slowly ridden him and herself to release.

Not the fairest way to play, she’d admit that much, but it hadn’t failed her yet. Ever since then, perhaps wrong as it was, she’d used sex more often than not to get out of whatever she wasn’t keen on when Cassian presented them to her.

The issue had arisen when Cassian learned to use her own ways against her, just as he was doing now.

“What. Did. You. Do?,” he asked, dropping kisses down the column of her throat with each word.

Nesta murmured, "Nothing,” and desperately tried to mean the bitter lie that sat on her tongue.

But Cassian had been alive far longer than Nesta, and he learned well even if he didn’t learn right away. It didn’t take much more coaxing from him as the bastard used her own methods against her. She’d never admit that it was a mere minutes with his head between her legs that had Nesta admitting her transgressions that day and ones from months before, if only he’d please just let her come.

He did. Twice actually, but when Cassian’s lips left her skin, she felt the tremor in the air.

Cassian wasn’t pleased.

Because Cassian didn’t ask for much when it came to Nesta. He didn’t ask for anything at all, if she really thought about it. He’d asked her to train when she’d first arrived to Illyria with him. She’d refused that nonsense without hesitation. No way in hell was she going to get into a ring in front of males who would sneer and leer at her until she left from either embarrassment or fear. Even if Cassian swore he’d be there the entire time. And when she in turn had asked to be trained only a few weeks later, he hadn’t lorded her initial refusal over her.

One time he’d asked her to stop throwing her “smutty fucking books” all around the house and to just put them in one place. Nesta had turned her nose up at his crass language and ignored the request. So within the day, Cassian had built her a bookshelf spanning an entire wall. She thought herself to have been a lovely assistant that day, as she’d only stared at the straining muscles through his tunic for the first two chapters of her book. A peck on the lips alongside a lovely threat to burn her books if she ever misplaced them again made sure Nesta did indeed listen to the request he’d made.

But that was Cassian. He accommodated her wishes more often than not and definitely more often than necessary. Some sort of overprotective instinct she was sure that came from watching female after female be abused and mistreated by the males around him. So he overcompensated when it came to Nesta. In return, he only asked her to be careful when it came to her powers.

His exact words were more like, “don’t burn my house down with that potion,” but she’d understood the message all the same.

More than that, he’d warned her away from blood magic a long time ago. Had even insinuated that this might be the one thing he’d never let her get away with because it really just was that dangerous.

Nesta of course, witch in both power and mind, had gone ahead and done it anyways. He didn’t know why she’d done it though, all he knew was the “what”. And all Nesta knew was that she’d never known hazel could glow so eerily bright when their owner was as livid as Cassian looked.

She reached for his shirt, her own clothes having been discarded somewhere on the floor, never breaking his gaze save for when she pulled the material that scented of Cassian and peace over her head.

Cassian eyed the movement with wicked intent, the predatory stillness everywhere else in his body as taut as a pulled bowstring. She knew if he chose to fire, that particular volley of words may very well end her.

She hated his anger, hated it more so on herself than anything else. Because anger wasn’t new to Nesta just as accommodation and ease wasn’t new to Cassian. She was used to being angry with herself. Being so fed up with the creature that looked back at her from the mirror, infuriatingly refusing to better and aching to try harder all while still not making progress. That anger, that burning, seething rage was all she could manage sometimes with herself.

Cassian was never a source of that unbending wrath though. Not anymore. They’d already savaged each other to more than unacceptable boundaries. They’d cursed and screamed, ravaged and broken down until finally tears had flown freely on both sides. It had changed everything between them then, and ever since, Cassian simply did not lose his composure with Nesta.

He’d seen her basest self, her true self, long before she’d joined this world of his. And that had terrified her from the beginning. Now she wondered if anyone was even capable of saving her from Cassian’s anger.

Because he wouldn’t yell or scream and he would never, ever put his hands on her. He wasn’t Tomas. Wasn’t any of the many shitty males she’d come across in her still young life. No, instead, Cassian would go silent most likely. He would keep his distance until he was better cooled off and only then would he seek her out to speak. Except, Nesta didn’t want distance. Not today. Not after she’d nearly died in her living room in a circle of her own blood and vomit. She didn’t think she could handle being away from Cassian any longer now, and definitely not after she hadn’t seen him for so long.

Cassian shifted off the bed and the move was so fluid, so graceful, Nesta almost forgot that she didn’t want this to go where it was undoubtedly headed.

“Don’t leave me.”

It was the first words blurted out of her mouth before pride could have tamped it down and self-preservation could have chided her on not being so vulnerable. They certainly hadn’t been the ones she meant to say or wanted him to know.

I missed you. I was scared I’d never see you again. I thought you were hurt and I was desperate. I’m sorry I lied. Don’t go. Not after I haven’t seen you in so long.

I wouldn’t be able to bear it.

Those were all the things she had wanted to say, but hadn’t. Instead, she’d all but begged for him to stay with her, not even considering that he had no interest in being around her anymore.

Cassian stared at her for what felt like eternity, and Nesta’s skin began to grow hot and too far stretched out under his cool gaze. Until he moved out of the room and closed the door behind him.

She’d never known disappointment would smell like the fading scent of embers and snow, and yet here it was. If only she had-

The door to the bedroom opened again and Cassian ambled in, too large for life and even this room and certainly too much for the book in his arms. She could haul its weight with two arms and labored breath. Illyrian training or not, it was heavy. And cumbersome. But Cassian lifted it with ease before propping it onto the nightstand beside her, his winged form hulking over her seated one with causal ease.

“Show me which one you did.”

It wasn’t a goodbye. Not yet. He wasn’t leaving the room to sleep in the spare one down the hall. Which Nesta surmised to be okay enough for now. Not good, because she could still see an edge of hesitance in his face. Like a coiled spring ready to start admonishing her if she showed him something too dangerous in the pages of the witch book. So no, not good. But okay at the very least.

Nesta wordlessly found and pointed to the spell, the yellowing page under her finger almost glaring in warning at her to lie again.

Cassian looked over the spell, his quick, weary eyes scanning over it with trepidation. Nesta made sure to look everywhere but him

She expected a furrowed brow and a winded explanation on what she had done. On the line she’d crossed, delving into dark magic that often had no way to return from.

Cassian instead shut the book and sat down beside her.

“Tracking?”

Nesta nodded curtly, still avoiding his eyes.

“What for? There’s nothing you’ve lost and certainly nothing important enough to get hurt like that for.”

You’re important enough for me to die for.

She didn’t tell him that either. Nesta chose instead to remain quiet until he dropped the subject. Likely impossible for Cassian to do but...

“Why?,” Cassian demanded abruptly after the silence stretched on for too long. “I already told you about blood magic. We had a deal Nes. You didn’t want to train your powers with anyone else. We agreed that if you went about it on your own you’d heed the boundaries.”

Shackles more like.

I don’t need your protection, she’d almost hissed at him. She was more than capable of looking out for herself. Had done so for far longer than she’d known him.

But Cassian hadn’t said it with malice. He hadn’t even said it with judgement. It was only worry creasing the space between his brows that she wanted to smooth out with her thumb. Maybe her lips.

“Was it bad?”

Nesta nodded mutely, not wanting to explain the details of just how horrendously bad it had been.

Horrifying. It had been terror inducing and she didn’t tell him that she’d never mess with the blood arts ever again. She’d learned her lesson.

A little softer then. “Are you hurt?”

Yes. So much. Everything’s aching.

“No.”

Cassian glared. “Did you always lie like this? I thought you used to be better.”

Nesta couldn’t hold in the scoff even if she wanted to. He was right. But he was also Cassian so it didn’t really matter just how accomplished a liar she may have been. He’d see right through her either way.

“Why do you care?,” she asked him abruptly. He wanted to question her choices? Choices she’d made for him and his safety. Well she could be infuriating too.

“Nesta I care because I thought you were dead. What the hell am I supposed to do if you get yourself killed doing some stupid-”

“Stupid!,” she screeched, outrage pouring into her unexpectedly. She pushed at his chest and off the bed. He was fast though, she’d give him that, not wasting a moment to catch up to her and haul her back by the wrist.

She hissed, contempt taking over every feeling of worry and longing she’d had towards him not moments ago. “Let go of me.”

“No,” he smirked, tightening his grip on her and pulling her close enough until they were chest to chest. “I think I’d rather know why you were doing something blatantly wrong after I specifically told you-”

“Oh fuck you, Cassian.” She tried to slam her hand against his chest to push off, but the bat was strong. “You don’t command me. I’m not one of your soldiers so think twice before you start giving me orders like one of them.”

“You promised,” he growled, and the sound shouldn’t have upset her as much as it did. Because underneath the anger, she saw the hurt lining his eyes.

He was right. She had promised him. When she’d first showed him the Grimoire’s spells and everything she wanted to try, Cassian had been hesitant. He’d tried to get her to work with someone else on her powers instead of alone and with a book they really didn’t know much about. Someone else being a petite, vicious female of the Night Court with whom Nesta had no interest in reconciling with just to learn some magic tricks. It had taken a far too drawn out conversation between them, with Cassian having Nesta promise not to delve into the darker side of witchcraft. At least not until she’d mastered the basics- which she hadn’t yet.

That meant no blood magic, no necromancy, and to Nesta’s complete disappointment, no hexing. She’d found a particularly cruel spell the same week she’d gotten the Grimoire and had wanted to test it out. Curiosity or perhaps vindictiveness fueled her, but she’d wanted to see how well the males who terrorized girls for fun would get on when they started growing blisters in sensitive regions on their body. But Cassian had said no and she’d agreed. In return, he wouldn’t bother her about how far her gifts were coming along or get anyone in his family involved with teaching her.

Nesta preferred that.

To move at her own pace and progress steadily but surely with time and practice. Eventually, one fateful day, she’d surprised Cassian with his weapons cleaned, and polished for use before he’d gone out for training. All with her magic and all on her own. He’d kissed her ardently in thanks before bounding out the door. A child with shiny new toys for the day to play with.

It hadn’t escaped Nesta’s notice that he’d kissed her outside of sleeping together and had toed an unspoken boundary about just how close they were. She also found, to her surprise, she didn’t mind it one bit.

But that didn’t matter in the current moment, because how dare he question her? When she’d done everything for him?

“Let me go,” she repeated. Snarled more like, but he wasn’t getting the message clear enough. The grip on her wrist didn’t hurt- Cassian would never do that. But it was irritating her, so it would have to go. Maybe she could twist out of the hold like he’d taught her to do last week. Tense her core, rear back and twist-

“I’ll let you go if you tell me what you did it for.”

The question lapsed her out of her plans at getting away, but it didn’t matter. She wasn’t going to give him anything to go on, even if he screamed his throat raw in asking her.

“Nesta,” he ground out, teeth gnashing in frustration. A twisted part of her was glad she wasn’t the only one experiencing a tenfold increase in her anger.

“If you tell me, I’ll forget about it. Just tell me why you did that stupid fucking spell and I’ll-”

Nesta’s spine went ramrod straight as her temper frayed. The sheer arrogance that he had sometimes.

Nesta snapped back this time. “That “stupid fucking spell” was for me. Because I was worried. Because you promised too. You said you’d be back within the week. And I, like an idiot, waited and believed you.” Cassian’s hold on her had loosened and Nesta shoved him away, panting at the exertion.

“You didn’t come back after a week. You didn’t even come back the day after. I waited a whole three days, going out of my mind, thinking you were dead. You were worried when you came home because you smelled a little blood? Thought I was dead? Good. Then you’ll know an inkling of how I felt these past three days without you.”

Cassian’s eyes widened in some emotion she couldn’t place. Perhaps surprise, perhaps shame, but she didn’t care either way. Not when she was too unbound now to stop.

“I thought maybe you were dead. Maybe you were being tortured. I thought your wings may have been ripped out or maybe you were so injured you couldn’t travel. I thought of every scenario possible and then I decided to do what I thought was best for your safety. Do not preach to me about my decisions and my promises. You promised you’d come back to me, and you failed to follow through. We are both guilty.”

She was a mess now. Tears that she hadn’t allowed to fall for far too many days. Everything that had happened not even hours ago suddenly coming to a head. It was miserable and aching as the sobs kept coming and wouldn’t stop. A floodgate let open that had been dammed close for far too long.

Somewhere in between her choking sobs and complete calm, Cassian had gathered her up and taken them both back to the bed. She didn’t remember it, nor whatever he’d said and done to get her to stop crying and shaking so horribly. But eventually, Nesta did stop crying. She stopped shaking too, and found that encased in Cassian’s arms, his wings cocooning her close to him, she could finally breathe.

“I didn’t know...,” Cassian started to say, but stopped himself. “It wasn’t-”

A sigh escaped him and tickled her forehead as it caressed her in apology.

“I tried to send out messages but we were in a hostile area so I couldn’t risk it. I figured you would be fine and just check on me another way. I’m sorry.” The apology was followed by a brush of his lips on her forehead, her cheeks, her lips. She accepted them greedily, never wanting them to stop.

“What other way would I have checked?,” she asked perplexed. She wasn’t trying to accuse him, but damn the bat, how the hell else was she going to do to find him.

Cassian shifted uncomfortably underneath her, his wings twitching around her.

“Cassian?,” she prompted lightly.

“You could have...I mean, well, you could...the bond.”

Shit, there it was. That thing she never wanted to address. And now she’d all but welcomed the conversation into happening.

It must have been stupidity on her part for even allowing it to go further. But Nesta didn’t like how cautious Cassian looked around her. As if expecting her to lash out and run just like she wanted to do. So instead she asked him how- how she could do it- strangely excited to hear the answer.

“I don’t know how to explain it. It’s like a string I guess. You can think of it that way at least. So you need to reach-”

“How do you know this?,” she interrupted him, already knowing the answer.

Cassian’s eyes breaking her stare was enough of a reply. She’d felt it in Velaris, when he’d pulled on the bond during her late nights in taverns, or when she’d been with a male in her bed. He’d been checking up on her for so long. Checking to make sure she was still alive and safe. Healthy was out of the question with the wretch she’d become, but still...

He was the only one who’d bothered to see at all, even if it was discreet and she had ignored him each time.

“I tried when I was on the mission too but I think we were too far away for it to work,” he explained carefully.

Nesta thought about it for a moment. “So distance affects it. What about now?”

“What about now?,” Cassian looked confused for a moment before understanding took over.

“Yes,” he finally said. “It will work if you try it right now.”

If Nesta had been told almost a year ago, that she would be the one to start exploring the bond between her and Cassian on her own, she would have reeled in shock and anger. Would have been mortified by it. But now, looking at Cassian, seeing the trust and vulnerability there, Nesta knew it was okay.

This was safe. Cassian was and would always be safe for her.

it didn’t take long for her to find that small part of her in her chest that beat to a different rhythm altogether. A piece that sang every time she held Cassian’s hand. A piece that trumpeted during the endings of a grand symphony each time they joined and held each other close.

The mating bond was a song. Its tether binding them together was like the string of a harp that she only needed to pluck once to see what lay at the other end.

Nesta breathed in once. Twice. And pulled.

Cassian gasped slightly, leaning forward until their foreheads touched. It was instinct that had Nesta’s hands moving to rest on his heart, where the end of the tether she’d pulled on seemed to end.

“Do you feel me?,” she whispered.

“I do.”

Nesta took a steady breath before asking her next question.

“Is that okay?,” she asked, fearful of what he might say. What he might grant or revoke with her heart that she’d just placed so preciously into his hands

But there was nothing to fret over. Not as Cassian smiled and reassured her fears away.

“More than okay sweetheart. It’s perfect.”

Yes. She would have to agree.

Perfect was the only thing she saw at the other end of their mating bond.

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