#orestes x female reader

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

When Darkness Falls

Orestes x afab!Monster!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • Kinktober 2024 Masterlist • Day 16: Public Sex

Summary: After Orestes and his men are captured by a strange group, the punishment seems unusual.

A/N: Thank you so much @thexsanctuaryx for beating and saving me as always! I don't know how my mind turned 'public sex' into this.

Warnings: Monster!Reader (werewolf-y), swearing, p in v sex, injuries, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 1850

Orestes winced as the guard pressed against his injured shoulder and forced him to his knees. His wrists were bound behind his back, so tightly that the rope was cutting off the blood supply to his fingers.

“You are accused of trespassing on our lands. From taking fruit from the Hylopius tree.” The man bellowed, he was dressed in dark blue robes finely woven. Seven others, presumably nobles and the jury, stood to his side. 

“My men and I were lost, we took shelter from the storm. We did not know these were your lands,” Orestes tries to keep his tone strong and even, to keep his chin high as he answers. “We-”

“Ignorance is not an excuse.” He snarls. “You pillage, and take. But you are far from your Rome now. Your crimes will not go unpunished.” 

Orestes breathes deeply. “Please, my men, they are innocent in this. I will take the punishment, if you let-”

“You are in no position to demand anything.”

“I am not demanding, I am-” The leader gestures with his hand and Orestes winces in pain as the guard presses against the wound in his temple.

“Your men fought back against our soldiers, they are as guilty as you are. I will cast punishment on you all.” He grins wickedly. “The Lycan’s Pit.” 

The noblemen laugh.

Orestes is dragged to his feet and pulled from the room, “What, what is that? What do you speak of?” 

The guards do not answer as he is taken into a large hall beautifully decorated in fine mosaic. The images of torn bodies and blood, of huge creatures with red eyes shaped like the beasts of childhood nightmares painstakingly crafted. There are rows of seats carved into the walls, the layout reminiscent of a small scale colosseum, able to hold around 50 people.

In the centre of the room was a circle pit that seemed to travel into the depths of the earth itself. 

“They will feast on your flesh.” The leader laughs. 

“Wait-” A loud gong of a bell echoes out, cutting off his words as he is thrown into the middle of the room next to the pit, he grunts, managing to get to his knees as the guards bring out thorned branches layered with silver chains. They arrange them around the outside of the floor, a barrier from the seats and Orestes. 

“What is that?” He asks.

The nobles take seats as the guards stand to attention, more people flood in, all equally dressed in finery and sit.

“The Lycans cannot cross the barrier.” The leader laughs, like he was explaining a basic concept. 

“I wonder who will join us today?” One nobel asks another.

“I hope it is Baral. He is the most vicious. I want to see him tear the roman apart.” 

Orestes swallows thickly, pulling at the ropes. If he could just…

There is a low growl from the pit. A deep and terrible snap of teeth. 

He freezes despite myself when a large clawed hand grabs hold of the side. It‘s huge, the palm alone bigger than his head, some kind of mix between a human and a wolf. 

Slowly the creature pulls itself up and out, snarling with rows of sharp teeth and blood red eyes. 

He wants to scream. But he can’t move, can���t think.

A hush falls on the nobles as the creature appears and stalks around to Orestes. 

He seems to snap back to reality, and struggles to stand, to run, to defend himself, to-

The creature lunges forward and on top of him. 

He closes his eyes, bracing for the sharp stink of ripping claws and teeth. But it doesn’t come. 

He breathes deeply, raggedly, his heart pounding in his temples and slowly opens his eyes.

It’s dark, like he’s in a cave. It takes a moment for him to realise that the cave is fur. The creature seemingly, somehow draped over him to make a small tent like space. 

He sits up a little, his shoulder brushing the fur. It’s soft and warm, moving a little with the creature's breath.

“Hello.” 

He jumps, pushing himself back further against the fur and you giggle. 

“I am sorry to scare you.” 

Orestes blinks heavily, you’re sitting opposite him crouched with a large smile on your face. He can see your canines, larger than a person’s should be, and your eyes deep and red. But beautiful, oh so painfully beautiful.

You give him a little wave and he nods his head. 

“They tied you?” Your voice is sweet and gentle.

He nods again. 

You tut and carefully edge forward. 

He swallows, sucking in a breath in spite of himself, you move like running water, swift and mesmerising, your body completely naked. 

You watch him as you move, careful for any signs of distress like he was an injured rabbit in a trap. 

You reach back and cut the ropes with your sharp nails that retract a little when you are finished. 

“There you go.” “Thank you.” He mutters, staring bewitched as you move back a fraction but remain close. “There is a creature, a…”

You smile. He knows it’s you.

“Where are we?” He swallows, rubbing life back into his fingers. 

“We are not where you were.” 

“Am I dead?” 

You shake your head. “We will have to return there, shortly. Here is just to talk for a moment.” You touch his temple, the gooey blood on his skin. 

He flinches but doesn’t pull away when he realises your touch is gentle. 

“Are you going to kill me?” He breathes, watching you intently. His heart is still beating fast, his muscles tingling with adrenaline. But he doesn’t want to run or fight, he wants… he wants to…

“No.” You smile, taking your fingers to your lips and licking off his blood. 

“Why?” He asks without thinking. 

You laugh lightly. “You smell… nice.”

“Nice?” His mouth twitches upwards, surprised. 

You nod, leaning a little forward. “You don’t smell like food.” You whisper.

Orestes swallows. He can’t help himself, can’t stop himself even if he wanted to. He tilts his head and presses his lips to yours in a rush. 

You lick into his mouth and he tastes his own blood on your tongue. He groans, lightheaded and needy as he presses himself closer.

He whines when you pull back a fraction, smiling. “You smell like a mate.” 

Orestes nods desperately. “Please.”

“Do you accept me?” 

He nods rapidly, pushing himself closer to you again. His cock aches between his legs, pressing against his clothing and begging to be freed. 

“In any form?” 

“In any form.” He mutters. “Please.” 

You grin. 

In a blink of his eyes, he is back in the mosaic hall, flat on his back. The nobles watching as the creature, you, lean over him, your teeth so close to snapping into the flesh of his neck. 

He turns his head, touches your soft fur with his free hands. “Please.” 

You let out a soft growl, the sound vibrating through his chest. 

There’s some quiet murmuring from the crowd, anticipation as they think he’s about to get eaten alive.

With one clawed hand, you lightly dip under his clothing, ripping it in two clean down the middle. 

Orestes gasps, biting his lip as you bow your head down and lick a broad flat stripe with your thick tongue. You start between his legs, rising up his body until you flick just under his jaw. 

He groans, his eyes rolling back as he squirms under you, your strong form keeping him pressed down and at your mercy. 

There are a few confused whispers, surprised at how he seems to be enjoying himself. 

His cock is already painfully hard, throbbing in time with his rapid heartbeat. You nuzzle at his neck, your breath hot on his skin as you lay yourself fully over him, moving your legs and taking his length inside yourself. 

Orestes gasps, moaning loudly as he sinks inside. He claws at your fur, trying to pull you closer as he shakes. It feels so good, liquid pleasure running up his spine as he fills you that practically paralyses him in place. 

His cry of passion is almost indistinguishable from one of pain, and at first, the crowd thinks he has been split open. 

You growl and he shivers as you rock your hips. It’s like you’re everywhere, touching him with claws and teeth and nails and hands. He can feel your lips on his thighs and stomach, fur and skin on his chest, both forms seemingly at once as you increase your pace. 

It’s electric, addicting as you devour him; mind, and body, and soul. 

“Yes, yes, please, yes,” he moans, uncaring of the many eyes watching him hurtling rapidly to his release. Your heat squeezes him, caresses him, lets him sink deeper into mind numbing pleasure. 

“Please,” he sobs, he wants to call your name but he realises, painfully, that he hadn’t asked for it, instead he pulls at your fur, at your shoulders, at any part of you he can reach. 

You snap your teeth and it sounds like a chuckle before you lick along his neck and drag your canines along his skin. 

“My heart,” he whispers, his voice strained, “I’m, I’m close.” He doesn’t want this to stop, to ever end. But he can feel his body racing towards his climax like an unbridled horse. His hips buck, his balls tightened. 

You rock faster, you slick running down and coating his skin as your warmth begs for his release. In this form, you need his pleasure desperately. Can only have your own as he experiences his. 

He whines, crying out beautifully as his back arches. He comes loudly, shivering and sobbing as he empties into you, giving you every single part of himself. 

Pleasure rushes along your veins, embeds in your bones and you howl, long and hard as you come with him. 

You lick into his mouth, cradling him as he nuzzles against you. 

“Foolish beast!” The leader yells, shouting for the guards. 

One hurls a spear at you that clatters off your form as if it was a rain drop. But Orestes flinches.

And you snarl. 

You turn quickly, jumping from him and barreling through the barrier that does absolutely nothing to stop you. You rip the guards and nobles to pieces in a matter of seconds, moving faster than they can fathom as they scream in terror. How dare they threaten him, your mate. 

You blink, the rage dulling.

Slowly, you turn back to Orestes, worried for a second about your outburst until you see his soft eyes as he reaches out for you. You move back to him, nuzzling your face into his palm. 

He kisses your nose, your cheek, licking some of the sprayed blood from your fur as you embrace him, laying him back down under you protectively. 

“I did not ask for your name, my love.” He whispers softly and smiles when you mutter it against his ear. He repeats it slowly with undying affection. 

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[theidiotwhowritesthings]

hi idk if u take requests, but if u do could u write a Din x Reader where the reader gets really sunburnt and she doesn’t want to be a burden to Din so she doesn’t tell him, and then when he finds out he helps her treat it? I’d love if they admitted their feelings for each other in the end..

Din Djarin x Female!Reader

Warning: injury, mentions of blood and pain, self doubt and anxiety

Word Count: 1,890

a/n: i changed 'sunburnt' to a different injury and i hope that's okay. i only did that b/c if i wrote the reader as sunburnt i'd have to describe her skin color, and i like to keep my drabbles as inclusive as possible. hope you don't mind!

.

COMMON MISTAKE

"Pylades: I'll take care of you.

Orestes: It's rotten work.

Pylades: Not to me. Not if it's you."

.

Din told you to be careful. Actually, his exact words were, ‘Stop playing with your karking knife’. You, in all your excellent brilliance, had mouthed off a passive acknowledgement before continuing to play with your vibroblade. Although, ‘play’ was a strong word. You just wanted to get good at spinning it in your hand. Before you left Mandalore, you had seen Paz do it and since then you were determined to master that skill.

So, the summary was, Din told you to be careful, you had not been careful, and now you were bleeding. A lot. Dank farrik. In your defense, he had warned you that you were gonna cut your hand, and that was not what happened. You had tripped going up the ramp and accidentally skewered your thigh. Which, when worded that way, was ten thousand times worse. It was a good thing you hadn’t hit an artery because you would’ve bled to death before calling Din to let him know you were dying from an injury born of your own stupidity. 

“This is fine. I’m fine. No problem.” You mumbled to yourself as you wrapped your thigh with some padded gauze. You refused to use bacta on this. The thought of wasting the expensive and important medication on this injury only added guilt to your shame. “Everything is okay.” It looked good now all covered up and out of sight. Your pants were absolutely ruined with a hole in the thigh and blood that stained the entire length of your left leg, but it was fine. “I’m fine.”

If you repeated the word ‘fine’ enough times then it was bound to come true. Science.

You pushed off the cot to stand and nearly crumpled under the weight. Pain, hot and unbearable, rocketed from your hip down to your toes. Your entire left leg was angry and screaming at you. With a sharp breath, you forced yourself to walk and get a new pair of pants. Your communicator chirped a message that Din was on his way back with Grogu and that put a whole new level of panic on the situation. Getting your clothing situated, you chose to stand rather than sit. There was a solid chance if you sat down right now you wouldn’t be able to get back up.

Five minutes passed when Din came around the side of the ship to stand at the end of the ramp. Grogu was playing with an unfamiliar toy in the satchel by his side. The Mandalorian must have caved and bought the kid a new toy again.

“Hey,” Din called out without coming closer, “Are you done with the wiring?”

You had stayed behind to repair some loose wiring. Your sole job on the ship was to keep the damn thing in the air, and Maker did the Razor Crest fight you at every step. You nodded. “Yes. Yupp. All good.”

“Come with me.” Din motioned for you to follow after him. “I want to show you something in the town.”

You let out a quiet whimper as he slid out of view, and with a steadying breath you marched out with the most normal gait you could manage. Honestly, you were impressed with yourself. You’d be more impressed if you hadn’t stabbed yourself in the first place, but considering your situation you’d claim this victory. The town wasn’t far from where Din parked the ship and it was a small, but colorful village nestled in the wilds of Naboo. Somehow the fact that you injured yourself while the three of you were parked on one of the most relaxing and safe worlds out there only made your pride sting that much more. 

There was sweat beading on your forehead that you had to wipe away and your leg was burning in white, hot agony. Din continued to glance your way, you could feel his gaze, until he finally spoke. “You’re awfully quiet today, tranyc’ika.”

“Just… thinking.” You replied. It was a Maker damned miracle your words didn’t fall out with a whimper. Only a few paces ahead was a little shop that sold caf. Tables and chairs littered the outside patio and the second you and Din began to pass them, you drifted to take a seat. “Hey, how⏤ how about some caf, yeah?”

Din paused and just stared at you. You licked your lips and focused on taking slow breaths through your nose. Finally, Din shifted so he faced you dead on and his hands went to his hips. As if recognizing Din’s ‘lecture stance’, Grogu stopped playing to pay attention to what was happening.

“Walk to me.” He near demanded it.

“That’s a weird request.” You replied and made no move to stand. Din tilted his head at you. Dank farrik. Hands on hip and the head tilt. You were royally fucked. “Yeah, alright. Here I come.”

Just as you had guessed in the ship, the act of sitting down had ruined you. If your slow and shaky rise from the chair didn’t give you away, you took three steps before your left leg gave out on you completely. Before you could hit the ground, strong arms caught you with ease and you looked up to meet Din’s dark t-shaped visor.

“What did you kriffing do?”

“I, uh,” You offered him a sheepish smile, “I, maybe, stabbed myself. A little.”

You had gotten pretty good at reading Din’s body language which was why it was too easy to notice how his entire body stiffened. Without a word, he scooped you up into his arms, bridal style, and began to carry you back toward the ship. Grogu crawled up his dad’s side and found a home on your abdomen where he babbled at you in worry. The babbles were a fantastic distraction from the rage that seemed to waft off Din. When he got back into the cargo hold he carefully set you down after Grogu hopped off. His hands went back to his hip and you could only imagine he was glaring down at you through his visor. 

“Pants off. Now.” He snapped.

You had always dreamed of him saying that to you, but it always had a very different context than your current reality. With a pained sigh, you undid your belt then carefully shimmied out of your pants before leaning back on the metal crate behind you for balance. Din ripped his gloves off, tossing them down in a fit, but when his hands found your thigh his touch was soft and careful. 

Din peeled away the gauze you had applied and you realized you had nearly bled through more than half of the padding you had put down. The sound of a hiss escaped Din’s helmet when he saw your wound and you couldn’t help but wince as well. 

“Don’t move.” He said. Din’s voice left no room for argument as he drifted away. He returned with the first aid kit and you watched him pull out the bacta. You opened your mouth to argue, but the second a sound squeaked out of you his head snapped up to meet your eyes. You didn’t have to guess if he was glaring this time. You could feel the heat of it cutting through the visor and into your soul.

Moments after he applied the bacta, relief began to seep into your thigh. You couldn’t hold back the soft sigh that tumbled from your lips. Din carefully reapplied a new bandage once he was appeased with the amount of bacta he spread around and into the wound. You had hoped when he was finished he would just walk away and leave you to your misery, but you always had been a dumb, blind optimist and the galaxy loved to disappoint you.

Din set his hands on either side of you, knuckles white with how hard he gripped the edge of the crate, and he shook his head. “What happened?”

“I… I tripped. Fell on my knife.”

He sighed, “Are you out of your kriffing mind?”

“No.” You replied. “It’s not like I did it on purpose! I’m negligent, not insane.”

“You tripped, fell on your knife, stabbed yourself in the thigh, and then hid it from me?” Din’s voice grew louder with each event. His words pushing out in what was basically a growl.

You twisted your lips before nodding once. “That is an accurate description of events, yes.”

“Why⏤”

“Because Din!” You interrupted him. “First off, it’s the dumbest injury a person could possibly sustain so of course I didn’t tell you! Forget the karking wound, I nearly died of embarrassment.” You huffed a sigh and shook your head. “And, secondly, I’m so tired of feeling like a burden. You’re always there, taking care of me, and I just… I don’t want to be so dependent on you all the time.”

Din leaned in and you were surprised when he rested his head against your chest. Instinctively, your hands raised to wrap around his helmet, elbows resting on his shoulders. “Gar draar suvarir, tranyc’ika.” He mumbled and you only recognized your nickname. Din lightly shook his head against you. “I want to take care of you. I need to.”

“Why, Din? Why⏤”

“I don’t⏤” Din cut himself off with a grumble. Slowly, he lifted his head back up and your hands fell to his shoulders. “I’ve never been good at expressing myself with⏤ with words. But, I can take care of you. I can show you.”

“Oh.” You replied. Was he…? Did he…? You wondered if this was an admission or if your own feelings for him were biasing your thoughts. 

“So will you please, for the love the Maker, just let me take care of you?” Din breathed out.

You nodded. “Okay.”

Din’s body slumped with relief and he caught you off guard by pushing off the crate and pulling you into his arms for an embrace. His arms around you were tight⏤ as if desperate for the touch. When you leaned your weight into him, letting him hold you up, you heard him let out a soft sigh. One of his bare hands traced up your spine and cupped the back of your neck. Feeling the warmth of his hand press against your bare skin made your eyes flutter close.

“It’s a common mistake.” Din said quietly. It took you a moment to pull yourself out of the haze of bliss you had been lost in to hum out a reply. “I tripped and fell on my blade once.” 

Your lips pulled up into a smile. “Wait, really?”

“Yes, tranyc’ika.” Din replied. He chuckled. “Granted, it happened when I was seven.”

“Okay, touching moment of comfort, officially over.”

A laugh bubbled out from Din’s helmet, the sound comparable to a fresh breeze with the exhilaration it brought you. He pulled away from you, but left his hand on the back of your neck. Din quickly leaned forward, pressing his forehead to yours for a few seconds, before his hand fell away an the moment truly ended. You stared at him as he collected the first aid kit to put away. Before he could leave, your hand shot out to grasp his wrist.

"I..." You paused. "I think I'm better with words. And I, I just want you to know that you're so important to me, Din."

"I know." Din nodded. He flipped his hand over so he could squeeze your hand, and it brought a smile back to your face. "Now put your pants back on. Your stab wound interrupted our date."

"Wait, our what??"

mando'a translations:

Gar draar suvarir: You don't (never) understand.

tranyc’ika: sunshine (sunny one)

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[plutoccult]

NEW YEAR’S DAY

pairing: reiner braun x female reader

description: new year’s was always about saying goodbye. you knew plenty about goodbye’s, but your perspective would soon change after one fateful new year’s with your ex, reiner.

word count: 4.8k

also available to read on my ao3 here

author’s note: not gonna lie to y’all, this one shot came to be when i wrote “one shot based off new year’s day by taylor swift. idc. do it. you’re doing it. idc who tf you write it for you will do it.” in my notes app in the middle of the night then went back to sleep like nothing happened. my brain is weird like that. but reiner is so taylor swift coded. i would know, i’m writing a series inspired by all too well for him. that will be angsty as hell, but this is just something cute for the new year, full of diabolical taylor swift references (and a reference to that one pylades and orestes quote that tumblr eats up so much). happy new year, everyone! <3

tags: @toorubobatea @cowgirlikets @jeanboyjean @femme-lune @erudianokabe @kazuchaos @bakagun1312 @beingbrokenfitsus @mumblepingu @awrient @intorder @titlishu @sunaraii @umbrellafulloffrogs @missmadness123 @imissyuuji @blinkingsuns

taglist form here

you had a rough year, and you were thankful to say goodbye to it. it wasn’t easy, but now that you’re here at the finish line, you wanted to go out with a bang. thankfully, new year’s eve is all about doing exactly that.

your group of friends took turns hosting a new year’s party every year, and as if it were fate, it was your turn now. everyone found that your place was the best to throw a party at. it was spacious enough to hold a large group of people, and most importantly, it was the perfect place to make a mess in. you weren’t a fan of mess, but you’d just have to clean up everyone’s bottles on new year’s day by yourself.

the party planning process was one you took seriously. so meticulous down to the brand of crackers you’d serve on a charcuterie board that the guys would inhale within the blink of an eye. it just had to be perfect, but even if you planned it all so carefully, there was always room for plans to change unexpectedly no matter how much you tried to resist it.

since you couldn’t set up a party by yourself, you enlisted your friends eren, mikasa, and armin to help you. well, you mainly wanted mikasa since she was insanely strong and armin for his brains. all eren wanted to do was eat food he wasn’t supposed to eat just yet.

“hey!” you quickly smack eren’s hand as he tried to reach for a cupcake. “those are for later. you know that.”

“but i’m starving.” eren whined. he was such a child, you thought. sometimes you questioned how mikasa and armin have put up with him since childhood, especially mikasa since she was actually dating the bozo in a man-bun.

“eat something that’s not for the party, please?” you plead with him.

“like what?” he asked.

you opened your fridge, revealing an array of various foods and drinks, most of which were labeled. “anything that doesn’t say “party” on it.”

eren let out a groan as he inspected the fridge. majority of the things inside had the “party” label, but you only did that because you knew something like this would happen. you refused to be short on any of the ingredients you needed, and you surely wouldn’t let eren be the one to cause that disaster.

instantly giving up, eren slammed the fridge door shut and pulled out his phone. “i’m going to get a cheesesteak.”

“oh! get me one—” armin perked up, but couldn’t finish what he was saying as eren was already out the door. “never mind.”

“he should’ve just ate a snickers.” mikasa said as she finished tying up a balloon, letting it out of her grasp and watching it float to the ceiling. “eren’s not eren when he’s hungry, you know.”

“yeah…” armin sighed.

“well, i have stuff to make sandwiches.” you offer.

“i thought those were for the—” armin began to say, quickly shutting his mouth when you showed two packs of deli meat, one labeled “party” and the other with no label at all.

“i really wanted to be prepared.” you say. “eat up, but not too much. someone has to eat the party food.”

“connie and sasha will house it, don’t worry.” mikasa joked.

you then remembered flashbacks to the first time jean threw a party for the friend group. he had clearly underestimated his best friends, and all the food was gone before the halfway point. all of you seriously made note to never be like jean in that instance, but maybe you went a little overboard once it was your turn.

“i don’t even think they can eat this much.” armin said. he had a feeling you did this for a certain blonde, beefy, six foot two reason. “are you expecting a certain someone to come to your party, perhaps?”

oof. he got you good, but you were going to act like you had no idea who he was talking about. “who am i expecting?”

“you’re joking, right?” armin furrowed his eyebrows. “his name starts with an r?”

“…the rock?”

“y/n.” armin facepalmed. you were the worst liar. “there’s a “the” before an r in the rock’s name.”

“i just don’t know who you’re talking about, armin.” you lie again.

“he’s talking about reiner, duh.” mikasa blurted out, always one to be blunt rather than beat around the bush. armin quickly whined mikasa’s name as she wasn’t supposed to say reiner’s name, but she shrugged it off. “we were all thinking it.”

the topic of reiner was an iffy one for you these days. he, bertholdt, and annie joined your friend group at university. reiner developed a crush on you soon after, keeping it a secret for over a year before confessing his feelings. you dated throughout your remaining university days until he was offered a scholarship in london, one that was too good to pass up. you remember begging him at the airport last minute to not go and stay with you instead. you told him that you had a bad feeling about this, but he insisted everything would be fine and that you’d both make it through this.

you battled through long distance, but it didn’t take long before you realized you couldn’t bear to do it any longer. you knew you couldn’t do this for a whole year, and you were more unhappy than anything else. reiner said he had those same feelings, and you both decided to call it quits before you ended up resenting each other. even if it was a mutual, mature breakup, the wounds still stung to this day. oh, how you wished you survived the great war.

of course, reiner came to mind when you planned this party. you remember when he got to host sophomore year and he desperately asked for your help with the preparations, claiming you were the only one organized enough to do it right. you were just friends back then, now that you think about it. you only found out later that reiner just wanted an excuse to spend time with you alone because he liked you so much. now here you were, holding your own party, but without him there for any part of it.

you thought long and hard when it came to your invitations. you wanted to invite him, but you didn’t even know where he lived now. you never bothered to ask bertholdt and annie what he was up to these days. you didn’t want to seem like a stalker or anything, keeping tabs and whatnot. at the very least, it had been long enough that he had to have returned to the states. that is, if he didn’t decide to stay in london and settle down there.

you weren’t sure how to go about this to your friends, but you had to admit the truth to them one way or another. “uh, i didn’t invite him.”

mikasa and armin stared at you in shock, not saying a word. they shared a look—one you didn’t like—before looking back at you, still gobsmacked that you didn’t even try to send him an invite.

“why are you looking at me like that?” you frown.

“you have to invite him!” armin exclaimed. “come on, i can text annie and—”

you reach over and force armin’s phone out of his hand before he can try anything stupid. “no, no, no. you will not.”

“i’m sure he’d love to see you.” mikasa said, keeping as much of a poker face as she could. little did you know, mikasa was keeping tabs for you. she knew everything, down to the fact that reiner had asked annie about you recently when she mentioned your party. the pot had certainly been stirred.

“i just want a nice, peaceful party.” you sigh. “well, as peaceful as it can be with alcohol involved.”

“if you say so…” mikasa pursed her lips.

you had a feeling this party would be far from peaceful, but that would end up being a future you problem.

•••

later on, your party was in full swing. some people were running late, but that was okay. everyone was having a good time so far and you weren’t even close to running out of food. you had truly outdone yourself.

new year’s rockin’ eve played on your tv, some crowding the couch for the sake of watching the performances. connie tried to propose a drinking game where you take a shot every time they showed ryan seacrest on the screen, but you all immediately shut down the idea.

“god, connie. it’s like you’re asking us to die before midnight.” jean scoffed.

“hey, you’re a heavyweight.” connie nudged him. “you’ll be fine.”

“you can’t even hold your liquor, connie.” you sass him. sasha immediately laughed, poking connie as he blushed out of embarrassment, knowing you were right.

“hey, remember when applebee’s had those dollarita’s and you got fucked up after one, even though there was a limit of three?” sasha asked, practically gasping for air from laughing at the memory.

“shut up, sash.” connie crossed his arms.

“jean and marco had to drag you out of the restaurant!” she exclaimed. “man, that was hilar—”

your focus on your friends quickly went away when you heard an all too familiar laugh. you knew exactly who it belonged to, and when you turned around and saw his face, you were right. reiner had actually showed up to your party, even if you didn’t invite him. one way or another, his presence found a way back to you.

he had such a hearty laugh, full of life. one that could bring more saturation to the world in an instant. you almost wanted to cry hearing that sound. whether that would be tears of joy or sadness, you didn’t know. but reiner became exactly what you feared he’d become; a stranger whose laugh you could recognize anywhere.

it pained you to admit that, even in your head. after this all this time, you still loved reiner. you never wanted things to be like this, but that was just the way things go, you knew that, no matter how much it hurt.

you watched as he chatted with bertholdt and annie, as expected given they were his best friends. reiner hadn’t noticed you were staring at him, but he wouldn’t as you quickly turned away and acted like you were still paying attention to what your friends were talking about.

you forced a laugh when you noticed everyone was in a fit of laughter. it seemed like no one noticed your uncharacteristic behavior, but mikasa did. she could always sense when something was wrong.

“hey, y/n.” she spoke up. “falafel.”

falafel was one of you and mikasa’s many code words. in this instance, it related to what one would call “that time of the month”, or shark week, aunt flow, the list goes on. but, mikasa didn’t actually have that issue right now. she just wanted an excuse to scoop you away from the group, preferably closer to a certain someone.

“oh?” you furrowed your eyebrows. “okay, come on.”

you quickly grab mikasa’s hand and walk down the hall towards your bathroom, which was close to your bedroom and would come in handy incase she needed a change of clothes, under the assumption she was actually having some girl problems right now. reiner heard the sound of your voice as you spoke to mikasa, setting his drink down and excusing himself from the current conversation so he could try to have a word with you.

you stood outside the bathroom, guarding the door incase of any weirdos, although that was more of a super extra precaution given you hoped no one would try anything weird. you looked down at your phone as you waited for mikasa, the sound of footsteps coming towards you sending alarms in your head.

“bathroom’s occupied—” you look up and see reiner standing in front of you, as beautiful as the day he left you. was it possible for a man to be so beautiful? you liked to think so, and he was certainly living proof of it. “reiner…”

“hi.” he spoke shyly. reiner should’ve known you’d be guarding the bathroom for someone else, you always did that. now he felt like a creep, but that wasn’t the intention at all. he just really wanted to talk to you.

“hi.” you gulp. “bertholdt and annie dragged you here?”

“yeah.” reiner replied. “sorry to crash your party.”

“it’s fine. i had a feeling.” you shrug. it was no wonder your subconscious thought to be over-prepared when it came to the catering aspect of this party. part of you wanted him to show up anyway, even if an invite never came his way.

“how… how are you?” he asked awkwardly, trying to spark up a longer conversation.

“i’m fine. got a christmas bonus at work.” you say. “you?”

“yeah, fine.” reiner lied. he had been a wreck for months, only just now feeling okay now that you’re standing in front of him.

“are you, uh… back here, or just visiting?” you ask, immediately cursing yourself in your head for asking such a question.

“i got a place with bertholdt, actually.” he said. “i’ve been back for a while.”

oh, so he did come back. at least you could wash away the fear of him settling down in london. the thought of him finding a wife there practically made you sick. how come no one told you he returned? how come he never called you? maybe part of it was your fault, but it’s better to find out later rather than never.

“i wanted to call you, but...” reiner added, answering a question you hadn’t even asked out loud. “i didn’t think you’d answer.”

his words send you into shock as you find yourself choking on air for a second, letting out a few loud coughs before you were back to normal. “man, mikasa’s been in that bathroom for awhile…”

shit, mikasa thought to herself. she had been standing there eavesdropping the whole time, not actually needing the bathroom. at least her ploy turned to be some sort of success. she got you and reiner to speak to each other, after all.

mikasa opened the door and turned off the light, acting as if nothing happened. you raise an eyebrow, wondering if she was okay. “you good?”

“yeah.” mikasa said. “false alarm.”

you shake your head in annoyance, knowing mikasa abused your code word for the sake of getting you alone with reiner. she swiftly walked past you two, brushing shoulders with you as she had a wide grin on her face, proud of her work. you decided now was the time to end this little talk.

“well, it was nice talking to you.” you say before walking away, but reiner stopped you right in your tracks.

“wait!” he called out. you turn around to hear what he has to say. “you look gorgeous, by the way.”

you find yourself blushing. even now, he continued to have that effect on you. “thank you…”

you quickly turn your head so reiner didn’t have to see your ruby red face any longer and walk away so you can return to your friends. not only that, but you totally wanted to scold mikasa right now. you just couldn’t do it without everyone finding out you spoke to reiner without the world ending. but, mikasa spilled what happened anyway before you returned.

“got your new year’s kiss locked and loaded, y/n?” eren teased, giggling with mikasa as they leaned on each other.

“ugh, shut up.” you roll your eyes. “new year’s eve is just an excuse to kiss someone at midnight anyways.”

“well, i think your excuse is standing right there.” eren said, pointing to reiner, who was on his way back to bertholdt and annie.

this was absolute torture. you knew this party would come with messes, but not the baggage kind of mess in the form of your ex boyfriend who you still have feelings for. you just really needed to get through the night without having the urge to jump off a very tall something.

“i need a drink.” you say. it was the only way you could stand this party now.

“don’t drink too much!” armin yelled to you as you walked away. “alcohol makes you sleepy!”

“i’ll be fine!” you yell back in response. but, you would soon live to regret those words.

•••

yeah, armin was right when he said alcohol made you sleepy. you found yourself the next morning in your bed, unsure of how you got there in the first place. you were still in your clothes from the night before, and nothing seemed to be out of place in your room, at least.

you remembered everything from last night up until you went on a drinking rampage. you were hoping you didn’t do anything idiotic, but knowing there was alcohol involved, you probably did.

you imagined your apartment was an absolute mess right now, one that you were given the responsibility of cleaning up on your own. at least, that’s what you assumed until you heard the sound of bottles clashing together.

stupid enough, your first thought was that someone broke in and was currently robbing you. so, you grabbed the baseball bat you kept under your bed and prepared to translate those childhood softball skills into whooping someone’s ass.

you quietly open your bedroom door, taking itty bitty steps down the hall before making your way towards the kitchen. your plan was to hit whoever it was from behind, but you dropped your baseball bat and let it loudly hit the ground when you saw your apartment was mostly clean with the exception of a few areas.

the sound startled your mystery cleaner, which revealed to be the last person you expected. “reiner?”

“shit, you scared me.” he jumped, placing his hand over his chest as he felt his heartbeat, unsure if it sped up from the sudden clang or the sight of your face. it could very well be both, but it was definitely you.

“why are you still here?” you question. “and are you… cleaning?”

“you, uh, fell asleep on the couch.” reiner let out a chuckle. “but then i carried you to your bed and made sure everyone left you alone. i was sure connie and sasha would be tempted to draw on your face again.”

you can’t believe he even remembered that. it was so long ago, back when you were freshman, but that still didn’t explain why reiner was here on new year’s day. “that didn’t answer my question.”

“i couldn’t let you clean this up by yourself.” he said. “it’s the least i can do after you did the same for me when i hosted.”

you do recall staying behind and helping reiner clean his place after his own party. he was completely drunk that night, hoping he could have some of that good ol’ liquid courage to tell you how he felt before midnight, maybe sharing a kiss too. the moment where reiner spilled his guts came long after the clock struck twelve. his words ended up slurred, telling you how he always thought you were the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen, even while you were doing a task as simple as picking up trash from the floor.

you remember simply thanking him, assuming he would be too drunk to remember saying that. however, reiner remembered it all too well the next morning, a massive hangover serving as the cherry on top to his sloppy sundae. when he found you in the kitchen making breakfast for him, he just knew he had to properly declare his feelings, with an apology included, of course.

even if you held onto those memories, you found a bitter aftertaste came with them now. you only wished they would become sweet again. “i could’ve handled it.”

“do you remember what you said to me all those years ago?” reiner asked you. “you said it’s not about who you kiss at midnight, it’s about who still stays with you the next morning for the aftermath of the party and begins the new year together with you.”

you cursed yourself for saying those words. you remember telling him that because he regretted not having the chance to kiss you at midnight. how naive you were back then. now here you are, beginning the new year with reiner as he cleaned your apartment.

“i think it’s more about saying goodbye.” you say coldly.

“y/n…” he sighed. “new year’s should be more about saying hello, not saying goodbye.”

“well, i think we know plenty about goodbyes.” you look away, the thought of your breakup coming back to haunt you for the umpteenth time.

reiner set down the trash bag in his hand and walked over to you. you had no choice but to look him in the eye when he ran his fingers through your hair, scratching that one spot that soothed you in an instant. why was he doing this to you? he had to have known you’d fold quickly, simply because it was him standing here in front of you.

“had i known what i know now… i would’ve flown back to you the next day.” and he would’ve. reiner couldn’t stop thinking about what you said once he got on that plane, and he continued to think about it everyday in london. when you expressed how unhappy you were with your long distance relationship, reiner wished he never went away. at the same time, it was for the best. sacrifices have to be made, but you’ll always come back to what you need.

“but look at you now. you got what you wanted, no?” you ask. “probably got a nice job. you’ll be sitting comfy for the rest of your life.”

“it means nothing if you’re not there sitting with me.” reiner said, the words all coming out so desperately, needing you like grass relied on rainfall to survive.

your mind felt hazy and your stomach felt queasy. you weren’t sure if it was the aftermath of all that alcohol, but you could definitely throw up right now, and you needed the bathroom before you end up spilling your guts to reiner, literally.

“excuse me.” you say quickly before rushing to the toilet. reiner stood confused, wondering if he said the wrong thing, but when he heard the sounds of you barfing, he knew you were simply feeling sick.

reiner quickly came to your aid, insisting he hold your hair up for you. you tried to push him away and say no, but you couldn’t say anything else as you vomited once more. this was surely embarrassing, you thought, but it was reiner here. he’s seen plenty of you before.

“i’ll get you some water.” he gently patted your back before leaving, returning not even a minute later with a glass of water.

you take the glass from his hands and drink it slowly, grabbing a tissue to wipe your mouth afterwards. “thank you.”

“you drank a lot last night.” reiner said.

“i know.” you reply. “i drank cause of you.”

“because of me?” he questioned, finding it hard to believe that he was the reason for your current state.

“you should take it as a compliment, actually.” you say sarcastically.

“but why did you drink cause of me?” reiner asked you.

if you said the answer out loud, you didn’t know what you’d do. crying seemed like the most obvious, and the tears threatened to stream down your face already, which reiner immediately noticed, using his thumb to wipe away those droplets. “hey, why are you crying?”

“isn’t it obvious?” you force out a laugh, finding your life was one big joke. “i wish i fought a little harder, reiner. i wish i never threw in the towel. i never wanted you to become a stranger.”

reiner felt the same way, he needed more fighting spirit too. you both lacked it in the end. it just seemed easier to breakup before things got really hard. but relationships aren’t supposed to be easy, there’s bound to be challenges. you both knew that now, but there’s always room to learn from those mistakes. it was easy to say you both had your own regrets about how your relationship ended.

“and i wish i never got on that plane.” he tearfully admitted, caressing your cheek. “how could i ever walk away from that beautiful face?”

your mind flashed back to that new year’s all those years ago. your relationship blossomed from that night, and it all seemed so full circle, sitting here now, on the same day years later. if only things could have stayed the same, you thought.

“you know, y/n…” reiner said. “if i’m being honest, i never stopped loving you, and… i’d love nothing more than to be yours again.”

you almost felt as if your heart completely stopped for a second. you didn’t even know how much you needed to hear those words—let alone want to hear them—until this very moment. you knew you still loved reiner, but to hear him say he felt the very same made you feel like you were floating.

“i never stopped either.” you say. “i’m never gonna love anyone else the way i love you.”

“me too.” he replied.

you gaze into each other’s eyes, both trying to get a glimpse into each other’s minds. thankfully, reiner spewed his thoughts out loud, no longer leaving you wondering. “y/n, i really, really want to kiss you right now.”

“shouldn’t we um…” you began to say, pointing to out where the mess that still needed cleaning was. besides, you couldn’t let him kiss you with any taste of vomit left on your mouth.

“it’s okay.” reiner said. “we have all day.”

“but i—” he immediately cut you off by crashing his lips onto yours. reiner didn’t give a damn, he just needed you desperately. your eyes widen for a second before quickly reciprocating, finding solace in your arms wrapped around each other.

you quickly pull away for a second, saying “we should really clean up though” before kissing him again. reiner did the same, replying with “it can wait a little longer”, then pulling you back in for more, peppering kisses down your neck. it felt so good, so right. while you were tempted to heat things up even more, you had to be logical about all of this. you and reiner had so much lost time to make up for.

“wait.” you say. reiner backed off, waiting for your call. “let’s slow down, please.”

“okay.” he nodded. “that’s okay.”

“i just don’t wanna mess this up again.” you admit. not only did you not want to, you couldn’t. you simply couldn’t lose him for the second time. it would kill you all over again.

reiner agreed, knowing you two couldn’t just jump back into this like the last year never happened. “i don’t either, but i’m not going to let you slip away again. not now, not ever.”

“good, because this is it for me, reiner.” you reply with tears in your eyes. “no more messing up. i want this to be endgame.”

you truly meant every word you said. what you had with reiner was the real thing, he knew that too. he would never make the same mistake again. what comes back to you is meant for you, and if reiner could come back without you having to ask or beg, then this had to be the end of all the endings. you wanted all your midnights to be spent with him.

“we’re gonna do things right this time.” he insisted. “no stupid stuff.”

“it’ll be rotten work, you know.” you say.

“not to me. not if it’s you.” reiner replied. “i want to spend every new year’s day with you from now on.”

a smile crept up on your face. “yeah?”

“yeah.” he said. “only you.”

“okay.” you nod. “let’s start off with this one then. we’ve got bottles to clean up.”

reiner kissed you slowly. when he pulled away, leaving a few more lingering kisses to your lips, he reached for your hand and helped you stand, leading you to the kitchen so you could resume cleanup. you were sure your friends would lose their minds when they find out what happened, but you didn’t care about that right now. all you cared about was being with him.

just like you did for him your sophomore year of university, the roles had reversed, reiner now making you breakfast as you recovered from the night before. and just like back then, even if you were doing such a simple task like picking up trash once more, you were still the most beautiful girl reiner ever laid eyes on, only this time he was finally yours, and he knew now that it was his future wife standing in front of him.

© plutoccult / 310802. please do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my content in or outside of tumblr. reblogs are appreciated <3

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Oscar Isaac Character Masterlist

Moon Knight

Steven Grant x Reader

Not Mine

Marks On My Collarbone

Jake Lockley x Female Reader

Call A Cab

The Moon Boys (Steven, Marc, Jake) x Female Reader

Torn

Show Me

Marc Spector x Female Reader

Battle Born

Jake Lockley x Original Female Character

Head Start

Spider-Man: Across The Spider-Verse

Miguel O’Hara x Female Reader

Mouthy

Nocturne

Slick

Triple Frontier

Santiago "Pope" Garcia x Female Reader

Favorite

Star Wars

Poe Dameron x Female Reader

Ice Queen

Sucker Punch

Blue Jones x Female Reader

Squeaky Wheel 

Agora

Orestes x Female Reader

When In Rome

[jasntodds]

Series Masterlist

Unsteady (Peter Parker x Reader) - COMPLETED

Summary: Peter Parker, a junior in high school trying to manage being Spider-Man and his school work, which he was doing just fine in until he noticed you. Suddenly his attention was on you, unbeknownst to you despite your infatuation with the teenager. Everything changed the day you’re assigned to work together on a project. That one assignment left your lives in a spiral and your secrets spilling faster than you could clean them up. Now, the question is, will you two make it out of the mess alive?

Series Masterlist 💕 OC Version: AO3, Wattpad, FFN

Double Helix (Peter Parker x Female!OC) (collab with @delicatetony ) - COMPLETED

Summary: High school, the place where you go through puberty one day to being genetically mutated the next day. Mae Joy Flores — better known as MJ — has spent her high school days going day by day with a slight dull hollowness inside her. Of course, she has Peter and Ned, her two best friends so things aren’t so bad. That is until she happens to find out her best friends secret. Completely ironic, right? It looks that way, that is, until everything flips upside down and things start to change. Working through emotions, supervillains, and life or death scenarios are turning out to be her average high school situations.

Series Masterlist

Hamartia (Dark!Peter Parker x Stark!Reader) - COMPLETED

Hamartia: ** noun** a fatal flaw leading to the downfall of a tragic hero or heroine.

Tragedy keeps striking Peter and his loved ones even when he tries his best to keep everyone safe. His best friends, girlfriend, his aunt, everyone he cares about seems to always be getting hurt because of him, because of Spider-Man. After he’s injured, it only gets worse and maybe it’s time for him to hang up the hero mask. It’s like they say, you either die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain.

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Forever (Fuckboy!Tom Holland x Reader) - A Walk To Remember AU - COMPLETED

Summary: What happens when a fuckboy with some anger issues and a bad streak is forced to work alongside someone who’s his opposite? And what happens if they can be ripped from him in seconds?

series masterlist 💕💦 Also read on AO3, Wattpad

Dare You To Move (FWB!Roommate!Tom Holland x Reader) - COMPLETED

Summary: Friends with benefits is supposed to be just that. Friends with the benefits of fooling around and not having anything more than platonic feelings. Easy, fun, thrilling, no one gets hurt…right?

series masterlist💕💦 OC Version: AO3, Wattpad

Caving In (Gar Logan x Fem!Powered!Reader, Jason Todd x Fem!Powered!Reader) - COMPLETED

Summary: ❝Tell me Atlas: What is heavier, The world or its people's hearts?❞

You never expected your life to end up this way, turned upside by an infamous Gotham villain. It’s been a living hell, every single day, until Dick Grayson brings you to Titans Tower where you meet Gar Logan and Jason Todd.

Series Masterlist OC Version: AO3, FFN, Wattpad

Petrichor (Jason Todd x Fem!Powered!Reader) Book 2 of Caving In - COMPLETED

Summary: ❝Pylades: I’ll take care of you. Orestes: It’s rotten work. Pylades: Not to me. Not if it’s you.❞

Gotham is home, not just for Jason but for you, too. And now that you’re both finally back home, together, you’re ready to see where this next chapter brings the two of you. He’s your best friend and you’re his. And you both might want a little something more with being back home, the place you both feel most comfortable. Surely, nothing could possibly go wrong now._

Series Masterlist 💦 OC Version: AO3, Wattpad

Penance (Jason Todd x Fem!Powered!Reader) Book 3 of Caving In - COMING SOON

Summary: ❝Thesus: Stop. Give me your hand. I am your friend. Herakles: I fear to stain your clothes with blood. Thesus: Stain them. I don’t care.❞ It’s been a month and a half since Crane’s reign of terror was stopped, leaving Gotham to finally return to normal. But, what is normal? After everything Jason and you have been through, it seems normal might be some unobtainable dream state. But that’s not going to stop either of you from trying and maybe, you’ll get lucky in the end. At the end of it, the two of you have suffered enough, right? Right?

Series Masterlist 💦 OC Version: AO3, Wattpad

To Be Human (Stiles Stilinski x Female!OC)

Summary: ❝The truth is that I’m scared. I’m supposed to be preparing for finals and the ACT and SAT but I’ve been sucked into a mess of werewolves. Everything I’ve ever known is changing and leaving and everyone is dead or on the verge of leaving. I feel like I don’t have anything or anyone anymore.❞ _ ❝You still got me.❞_

Cambridge O'Riley has grown up in Beacon Hills her entire life. She knows every in and out of the town even in her sleep. With her father being the sheriff’s deputy, she’s spent most of her time at the station with the Sheriff’s son, that was until her mom got sick which ultimately lead to a heartbreaking falling out between the two young teens.

Now, she keeps mostly to herself but that becomes difficult as strange things start happening in the town. Unexplained murders, unusual animal attacks, classmates acting out of the norm. She seems to be the only one that notices besides the crazy duo of Scott and Stiles. Once she gets revolved with them, there’s no turning back and she becomes wrapped up in things she never expected or even dreamed to be real.

Things only seem to get worse and weirder as more people seem to be involved and soon Cambridge and her new group of friends find themselves fighting against themselves, for their lives, and their loved ones’ lives.

series masterlist AO3, Wattpad, FFN

Copacetic (Evan Buckley x Female!OC)

Summary: Maizie Jackson didn’t plan to move to LA but after her brother moved and became part of the 118, it almost felt like she had to. So, she packed up and moved which wasn’t easy but once in LA, it all felt right, like it it felt like she belonged somewhere. Everything seems to be going up for Maizie and getting easier when she’s introduced to everyone at the 118, especially Evan Buckley. But, it’s like they say, everything that goes up, must come down.

series masterlist AO3, Wattpad, FFN

The First Punch (Boxer!Tom Holland x Boxer!Reader) - CANCELLED

Summary: 2 Underground Boxers. Biggest underground competition in Chicago. Both are the ones to watch, expected to win. Bet on by everyone who knows of the league. Neither can afford to lose. One champion. Only one problem: they fall for each other.

series masterlist💕💦 OC Version: AO3, Wattpad

Pretense (College!Peter Parker x HOH!Reader) - Ongoing

Summary: When an intern for the Daily Bulge is set out to find the person behind the mask of New York’s Spider-Man, her life turns upside down with secrets, supervillains, and a boy by the name of Peter Parker.

Series Masterlist 💦 OC Version: AO3, Wattpad, FFN

The Lucky Ones (Bartender!Tom Holland x Reader) - CANCELLED

Summary: You want a relationship and Tom wants to find his “one person.” The want to not be lonely left you both going on a string of bad dates. And you both had your usual spots you would go to sulk about it but, as a coincidence would have it, your spots are closed on the same night leading you both to same exact diner. And as another coincidence_ would have it, your server serves you each other’s meals, leading the two of you to meet.

Series Masterlist OC Version: AO3, Wattpad

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REQUESTS + RULES.

heyyyyy, here's the information/rules about requests i take. overall rule, please ask nicely :))

status: only matchups are open.

◆ MATCHUPS! are open.

matchups!!! these are really fun, ik i always love them. for matchups what i need is what fandom/s you want (max 3) a matchup for, if you want a male/female/whoever matchup, and a reasonably detailed description of you.

i will not take anonymous matchups and i'll only do them for people following me :) if you submit an anonymous one, dm me or submit a second non-anonymous one and tell me it was you so that i can post it without your url but also that way i can also see if you're following me.

brief description of you should include: a brief description of your physical appearance, your mbti type if you know it, mentions of both positive and negative personality traits, your hobbies, your likes, your dislikes, what you do in life, hopes and dreams. a wild variety of things that sums you up.

fandoms available are; The Boys, Stranger Things (not the kids obvi), MCU (includes Netflix Shows), Star Wars (Skywalker Saga + Mando).

◆ ICONS! are closed.

all i need for icon requests (which are more like suggestions) is what character you want! i'll only do one set per character and you can find who i've already done here (link coming soon)

◆ FANFICTION!

what i need from you in your request is specified in the subheading beyond according to fic type :) i only write headcanons and blurbs just based on time considerations (if you have ideas for oneshots or prompts or something you'd like to see i'd love to hear that just not as a request)

characters i write for, star ☆ indicates my top picks:

from The Boys: Soldier Boy ☆, Billy Butcher, Hughie, MM, Frenchie, Kimiko, Annie, Maeve.

from Stranger Things: Eddie Munson ☆, Billy Hargrove ☆, Steve Harrington, Nancy Wheeler, Robin Buckley, Jonathan Byers, Jim Hopper.

played by Oscar Isaac: Poe Dameron ☆, Moon Knight bois (Steven, Marc, Jake) ☆, Nathan Bateman ☆, Duke Leto, Blue Jones, Abel Morales, Sergent Kane, Orestes, Richard Alonso-Muñoz, Rudal Keener, William Tell.

lol miscellaneous: Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker (Star Wars), Spike (Buffy), Dean (Gilmore Girls) (let me have this), Will Turner, Elizabeth Swan, James Norrington (POTC), Morgana Pendragon, Gwaine (Merlin BBC),

played by Ben Barnes: Billy Russo ☆, The Darkling ☆, Caspian X.

from Marvel: Frank Castle, Matt Murdock , Loki Laufeyson, Bucky Barnes, Erik Lehnsherr, Wanda Maximoff, Valkyrie, Thor Odinson.

rules for all fanfic:

i won't write anything that i haven't experienced (or that i find triggering) so just please stay away from topics of mental illnesses, extreme trauma, that sorta thing.

i'm not going to write NSFW for requests so let's just skip that (steamy/suggestive is all good though),

i might decline a request if i think it'll take too long, i'm not confident in it, or i just don't like it. that's not to say your request was bad just that it didn't fit me.

also it might take a while oop, be patient with me. i'll close requests if i'm a bit back up with them.

◇ HEADCANONS! are closed.

the only requirements for headcanons are tell me what character you want, what headcanons you'd like eg. "date night hcs", or "breakup makeup hcs", if you want fem!reader or gn!reader (apologies for the inconvence but i don't do male!reader).

◇ BLURBS! are closed.

the only requirements for blurbs are tell me what character you want, if you want fem!reader or gn!reader (apologies for the inconvence but i don't do male!reader) and gimme a prompt! whether that's a dialogue prompt you found, a scenario you wanna see, whatever :)) these should be short... but also i might get carried away.

[aellynera]

Goddess (Orestes x Reader)

GODDESS

(Hi. I wrote an Orestes story - it started as a joke about the way Apocalypse says “my goddess”, and then I was like “oh man I want Orestes to call me his goddess” and then as usual, I don’t know how, but this happened. It’s rather different than most things I write, but I quite enjoyed writing it and I hope you like it. Comments, likes, and reblogs always appreciated!)

Word Count: ~4400

Summary: Orestes is a constant in your life and has a particular way of constantly reminding you.

Warnings: Mentions of character death (briefly described but not graphically.) Implied female reader. Definite probable historical inaccuracies taken for poetic license and dramatic effect. ANGST (I made myself cry while I was writing this.) Christians doing morally void but historically accurate things. Fictional timelines.

When you are four years old, your parents leave everything they’ve built in Rome - their jobs in the palace, their lives in the city, your father’s position on the council -upon the orders of the Emperor and move to Alexandria. Your father’s new role is to assist in turning that city into a bastion of the Empire, to help strengthen the government and support the supremacy of Rome. Your mother is to be a gentle guide to the women, in hearth and home and higher society. And because you are theirs, you go with them.

They meet with the prefect upon your arrival and he welcomes your family. He is bright and cheerful, yet loud and pompous and booming, stern but wise, and while he is a kind man, his volume frightens you. You cower behind your mother’s skirts, steadfastly clinging to her and  refusing to join in any pleasantries.

Another woman suddenly appears, a small boy with curly hair and bright dark eyes holding her hand. The boy regards you curiously and asks why you won’t come out and say hello. His mother tells him you’re shy, while your mother encourages you to release your death grip on her gown. Finally, after much coaxing, you relent and she pushes you gently towards the little boy.

His mother says you should go play in the garden while the grown-ups talk, and he reaches a tiny hand out to you, wide-eyed and smiling. His name is Orestes, and he is six.

And when you take his hand with a shy little smile, his voice comes out as a whisper and tells you he thinks you’re a goddess, and he drags you towards the garden to show you the little blue flowers that dot the grass, and you believe him.

***

When you are eight years old, one day you finish your chores early and decide to spend your extra time in the yard, weaving some wildflowers together into a chain while the mid-afternoon sun warms your shoulders.

You are quite happy to be alone and not around the grown-ups for now; they’re so loud, sometimes too loud. You crave the quiet, seek it out often, and you bask in it.

Until a rush of dark curls and bright eyes tears past your house, into your yard, and grabs you by the hand, knocking your flower chain carelessly to the ground. He insists you come play with him on the hill nearby and with a squeal of indignation, you let yourself be dragged along behind him.

Your ire over the discarded flower chain is soon forgotten as your squeals become laughter as you roll and roll down the hill together, grass and dirt sticking to your robes and tufts sticking to his unruly curls. 

When you tell him he looks silly, he tells you he doesn’t, and you insist that he does and he protests that he doesn’t. And so it goes back and forth and back again, until you push him or he pushes you or someone pushes the other and you both go tumbling down that hill, end over head over feet, your descent only stopped by a patch of mud at the bottom.

He might be the son of the prefect, and he might be your best friend, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t an enormous brat sometimes.

For a minute you’re both panting and red-faced and near tears, until he starts to giggle and you can’t help but join in, and only laugh harder at his outraged gasp when you hit him square in the chest with a chunk of mud.

And on the way back to your house, when you’re worrying your bottom lip thinking on how to explain to your mother why you’re covered in dead grass and damp bits of dirt, your robes most likely ruined, he tells you with the kind of confidence only possessed by a boy of ten years that everything will be fine, because you are a goddess and brave and strong, and you believe him.

***

When you are twelve years old, you hear of the school that Hypatia is running, because Orestes tells you about it when he starts going. You don’t like that he’s doing something without you. You don’t like being left behind and left out and you want to go to this school too. 

Your mother would easily say yes, but your father is reluctant, and it’s not that he thinks a woman shouldn’t learn philosophy and how to read and do arithmetic; it’s  more that enough other people in the city do think like this and he is convinced it will not be safe for you.

You care little for your safety. All you want, all you desire, is to be part of this group of scholars and to go to this school and learn. And what danger can possibly be there, when a woman is the one in charge?

So you beg and plead and bargain with your father, until a boy - now a young man - with curls like nighttime and eyes nearly as dark and twinkling with stars, steps in and says he’ll watch over you during your classes, and your father gives his permission. And so you start attending Hypatia’s school.

And when the older boys, boys who were nearly men and should know better, start to bully and deride you for desiring knowledge, when they taunt you and steal your scrolls and yank the ribbons from your hair, he steps in and tells them in no uncertain terms to leave you alone. Neither of your fathers, especially his, are particularly thrilled with the tussles he gets in on your behalf, or the black eye that one petulant snipe Cyrus gives him when he connects a punch when Orestes isn’t properly paying attention.

You frown at him as he sits in a chair next to the washbasin, a clean wet cloth clutched in your hand. He winces as you clean the blood from his cheek and gingerly probe the bruise swelling around his eye.

And when you softly ask why he’d do such a stupid thing, he tells you that even a goddess needs a hero to protect them sometimes, and even though you think him entirely ridiculous and heat comes unbidden to your cheeks, it makes you giddy to believe him.

***

When you are sixteen years old, you watch the boy with the wild ebony curls and liquid chocolate eyes fall in love with a girl. Only it isn’t a girl, it’s a woman, and you realize he’s been doing it for years.

Ever since your first day in the new city, he has always been by your side and you by his, an inseparable duo. You thought that would never change, but here you are, finding yourself forced to watch your best friend slowly but surely let his heart be ensnared by your very own teacher.

All he can talk about now, it seems, is Hypatia and her philosophies; Hypatia and her scrolls and the amazing things she is currently reading; Hypatia and her outlandish theories on the universe and the stars. Always Hypatia, all things Hypatia.

You never knew you could hate someone as amazing and wonderful as Hypatia.

It doesn’t seem to matter that his attentions are not equally returned, that she never fully indulges his lovesick whims and overreaching attempts to gain her attention. She continues to treat him as a student, and outside of class possibly even as a dear friend, and he continues to pine.

One afternoon you’re among the stacks of scrolls at the library, trying to find the parchment necessary to complete an assignment Hypatia has given you. You honestly would rather not find it and not even bother finishing your assigned work right now, and you must have some kind of look on your face because he takes the scroll you’re clutching from your hand and leads you to a mostly hidden nook in the room. And he stops talking about Hypatia for a moment to ask you what is wrong.

You want to tell him you miss him, that you want him back, that he’s making a mistake, but you can’t, you don’t. It takes a bit more coaxing, but you finally tell him you’re lonely and you wish there was someone you could find, someone you had to love as much as he had his person, he smiles and tells you that one day you will, because you’re a goddess and the right person will be pulled to the love and light you always emit. You smile back weakly and blink and look away and you want nothing more than to believe him.

***

When you are twenty years old, the library at Alexandria is destroyed.

It happens on a sunny afternoon not unlike so many others that have passed before, when suddenly the doors are broken down and the Christians rush in and the chaos ensues.

You’re sitting at a table with a quill in your hand, carefully writing your thoughts on a piece of parchment, when you hear the shouting in the entryway. And before you know what’s going on, shelves are being knocked over, papers tossed into the air like so much confetti, scrolls being thrown left and right. The air is beginning to smell acrid; you can see a few people setting small fires in some of the stacks.

The windows above you shatter as others throw rocks and even a chair, and you look around wildly for a way out. You don’t know which way is the right way to go, or even if there is a right way to go.

Everything is madness.

A pair of arms suddenly shoot out and grab you around the waist and your scream pierces the air like the horn on the top of the lighthouse trying to guide a ship to shore. Instead you realize you’re trying to drive this ship to its ruin, to free yourself from its depths with wildly swinging elbows and kicks, until you hear a familiar voice shouting your name over the ruckus.

You take in your assailant, all frantic curls and impossibly wide, dark eyes, and collapse into him in relief. Orestes tells you that you need to go, you need to get out, and to find both your fathers in the nearby council chambers and they’ll know where to go, where it’s safe. You ask him to come with you, but he shakes his head.

He tells you he needs to help save as many of the books and scrolls as he can, and you tell him to give you all you can carry and when you run, you’ll take them with you. So he loads your arms full to bursting, and when a rock flies by inches from your face and you drop the items at the top of the pile, he ignores that and pushes you roughly in the direction of the side exit. He says you must leave now, and he’ll be behind you before you know it.

He presses his lips to your temple ever so briefly, spares you a pained smile, and says you’re a goddess for the small bit of assistance you are giving.

As you run for safety, or what might be further peril, you spare a glance over your shoulder and see him helping Hypatia grab as much of the library’s contents as they can, and you don’t have another second to spare on deciding whether or not to believe him.

***

When you are twenty four, it’s your wedding day and everyone tells you this will be the most joyous day of your life so far. Your mother helps you dress in the softest, most expensively beautiful gown you’ve ever owned, and one of your sisters weaves a crown of laurels for your hair. Another sister makes a chain of wildflowers to wind around your wrist. You have never felt as beautiful as you do on this day.

Your father comes to the door of the chamber where your preparations are taking place, to let you know that the guests have all arrived and the groom is nearly ready, and it is almost time. He gives you a kiss on both cheeks, a gesture not common from him, and tells you he will be waiting out by the garden gate when you are ready. Your mother and sisters each kiss your cheek and leave as well, giving you a moment to yourself to gather your thoughts and emotionally prepare for the ceremony.

The door opens again a few minutes later and you turn to face the person behind it, Your eyes go wide, confused, as you take in the man before you. His dark curls are smoothed back and elegantly styled, his robes are regal and dashing, and his eyes are bright and nervous.

You tell him he shouldn’t be here.

He tells you that he knows, but he can’t help it, he has to see you. That he has been thinking of you all morning, wondering how beautiful you look, how happy you must be, and he just had to see you before you walk down the aisle to take your vows.

You bite your lip and tell him, again, that he shouldn’t be here and you can’t stop your voice from shaking. You turn your head away and look anywhere but at him.

And he repeats that he knows this, and he knows it’s wrong, it goes against all protocols, but he can’t help himself, can’t stop thinking that this is the last time he’s going to see you, see your smile and maybe hear your laugh, might be the last time your eyes can gaze upon each other and the last time he can hold you in his arms as his best friend.

You can’t think of a single thing to say to him, and even if you could, you’re certain your body will not cooperate.

Because he is not the one you are marrying. No, this marriage was arranged by your father and the Emperor, and there is the overwhelming chance that you must go back to Rome, and if you and your new husband leave Alexandria it is not likely you will ever return.

This might be the last time he can tell you that you shine with a light brighter than all the heavens, that you are beautiful and he hopes you will be happy, and you truly are a goddess among mortals.

And so Orestes does. He kisses you softly on your forehead, staying there a bit longer than propriety suggests, and quietly slips from the room. And you can’t see for the tears swimming in your eyes, and you want with all your heart to believe him, but you can’t help but find his words hollow and realize this will be far from the greatest day of your life.

***

When you are barely turned twenty-five, there is a knock on your door in the middle of the night. Perhaps knock is not the correct word, it’s more of an insistent pounding, and you swear under your breath at what could possibly be so important to rouse you out of bed at this unacceptable hour.

You pull a robe over your nightdress and open the door, and all the air leaves your lungs.

Four centurions are standing on your stoop, with a man who looks vaguely familiar; is he a general, maybe, or a captain? You can’t remember where you’ve seen him before, but it doesn’t matter, when he greets you solemnly and begins to speak, and tells you that your husband will not be returning from the front.

You did not return to Rome, as had originally been decreed. You stayed in Alexandria after your marriage because skirmishes had broken out along a few of the empire’s borders, and your new husband was called to action to fight for his ruler and the kingdom. Deep down, you could not have been more glad of it, for though you were born there, Rome had not been your home for over twenty years, and starting a new life there with a new husband would not have made it any more so. 

Your knees give out from under you and you consider for a moment that you should be crying, but you aren’t really sad and it strikes you as odd, but you can’t force the tears to come. You love your husband, in a way, but you’re not sad that he won’t be coming home. You’re relieved, and the instant that thought hits you and sends a jolt through your body, you start to laugh. The general, or captain, or whoever he is and his guards look at each other, then at you, and back to each other in utter confusion as you continue to giggle.

It all happens in mere seconds, and you’re sinking to the stone floor beneath, and a very familiar voice, one you have not heard since the day you were wed, tells the guards to stand aside and strong arms catch you before you can tumble completely.

His hair is wild and curly like he was just pulled out of bed himself, and his dark eyes shine with worry and compassion, and he asks you if you’re alright, and this is what finally breaks you from your laughter and brings wetness to your eyes.

Orestes holds you as you cry into his chest and you don’t see the pointed look he gives to the captain and the guards, nor do you see them pull back enough to close the door and wait outside.

You don’t know how long you sit there on the floor in the front hall, or how you’ve possibly gotten his robes that soggy, but eventually you calm and the thoughts roll through your brain again. You are crying because someone has died, you realize this is true even if you’re not so very sad it was your husband. You’re crying because it was your husband and now there will be the mourning period you must dutifully attend as a grieving widow. And now that you’re a widow, eventually you will be expected to take another husband, if one even dares to want you.

And you’re crying because the one reason you were glad to stay in this forsaken city - in the Alexandria which had become your home - the one reason you hoped every day to lay eyes on again and every night resigned that you never would, was suddenly here, his arms wrapped around you and his voice whispering words of comfort into your hair.

You’re not sure when he picks you up and carries you back to your bed, carefully laying you on your pillows and pulling the sheet up to cover your shoulders. You’re not sure how long he stays, holding your hand and brushing stray tendrils of hair from your face. And you’re not sure how long you drift in and out, emotional exhaustion finally catching up and pulling you into nothingness, but before you fade out completely, you feel his thumb gently brush the remaining tears from your cheek, and feel the soft press of his lips on your forehead as he calls you a goddess and tells you to rest.

And as you finally give yourself to the twilight, you aren’t sure if you imagined it, but you choose to believe him, and you cling to it.

***

You’re not sure when it happens, to be honest. Time starts to blend together after that, you just know that you’re older and that it happens, and it isn’t right and it isn’t moral and it isn’t fair. Not to anyone involved, not to the city, not at all.

Hypatia has died, been murdered in the temple at the hands of those who profess themselves to be righteous saviors, brutally stoned and ripped apart as she stood there, proud and defiant to the end. How anyone could do such a thing to another human, especially one such as her, is beyond your comprehension.

It only gets worse when they burn her corpse on a pyre in effigy in the middle of the agora.

Word comes to you of the horrible events, and your first instinct is to find him, the way he found you, came to you when word of your husband’s death made its way back to the city. You set down the parchment you’re scribbling on the desk in your room and grab a dark cloak, partly to conceal yourself and party to ward off the slight chill from the wind.

You make your way to the prefect’s palace but you’re turned away at the gate by pair of surly-looking guards, and giving your name, and then your father’s name, and then the fact that your father reports directly to Rome makes no difference to them. They have  been told to let no one in, and let no one out.

No one except the person you’re looking for, apparently, because somewhere in the aftermath you discover that Orestes is nowhere to be found.

No one knows where he’s gone, and no one knows when he left, just that it was sometime between Hypatia being murdered and the fake funeral pyre. He had words with Cyril, someone told you, and then after that, no one knows.

And the Christians take over the city, much like the library so many years ago, and more people are burned at the stake, more people are murdered, more progress is halted, all in the name of what is right and what is true.

They will kill you, too, if they find you, or find out you’re looking for Orestes. It’s been years since you’ve really been in his presence in anything but the smallest of ways, especially in public, but you know there are still enough people who know how close you were. And if they know you used to be close, you know they won’t hesitate to come after you the same way they came for the philosopher. 

So you make inquiries as discreetly as possible, ask the gossips that litter the merchants’ stalls in the most innocent way possible, like you’re just a curious citizen asking what’s happened to the rule of order in the city. You even ask your father, once, but he doesn’t reply and his stony gaze makes you certain to never ask again.

And you bury yourself in scrolls and reading, in star charts and theories; in anything, really, that will take your mind off everything that is happening and your lost prefect. Your lost friend, your best friend.

The man you truly love, even if it’s taken you years of self-doubt and missed chances to fully realize and admit it, and now, perhaps do something about it.

One day as you’re sitting at your desk, quill in hand and head in the clouds, you think of something. Something that may be nothing, but it comes to you in a flash and you have an idea of where to go, where to find him, somewhere that few others might know.

You carefully pack a bag with some clothes and supplies, and a crudely drawn map that you sketch from memory and hope you’ve gotten right. It’s been so long since you were there but you’re fairly sure you remember the way. You know that Orestes would remember.

A long day’s journey and a fitful night’s sleep take you into the next day, and the afternoon turns into dusk when the hillside comes into view. It is not the same hill you tumbled down more than once when the two of you got into a scrum, but it’s the one that you would go when you could both sneak away and no one would notice for a few days, and you’d stare at clouds by day and the stars by night.

There is an outcropping set back from the hill, in the base of the mountains nearby, that a person wouldn’t see if they didn’t know where to look. You’d found it one day during a particularly vicious thunderstorm and taken refuge in the cave there, and you’d both commented on how someone had clearly found it once before you, for it was somewhat set up as a living space, with some mats and blankets and  a few rations left on makeshift shelves. Anytime you were on these excursions and it would rain, or you simply wanted to be out of the sun, that was where you would go.

And you hope against hope that this is where your answer lies.

You crest the hill and make your way to the foot of the mountain and you can’t help but smile, just a little, thinking this is where he would have gone, should have gone, as his name means of the mountains. In his abandonment, his escape from the city, could he have taken it literally? You’ve known him so long and it feels like the kind of thing Orestes would do.

The hovel comes into view, and you drop your pack, because he does too. Tending to a fire at the mouth of the cave, his back turned slightly to you, his curls a glorious disaster, and he’s grown a beard since last you’d seen him. It’s a look you’ve not seen on him before, but you quite like it, although you consider for just a moment you’d like any look on him at this moment, because he is real and he is standing right in front of you.

The sound of the pack hitting the ground makes him turn, and his dark eyes shine in the firelight, and he looks at you for long moments but doesn’t say anything. Orestes just stares at you, disbelieving, like you might be some kind of mirage or a trick of the light or even some kind of wicked spirit sent to torment him, and so he just stares.

Until you breathe his name.

He blinks once, and his face is suddenly full of hope and relief, all the tension and disbelief of the previous moments falling away, and your heart soars to the heavens and thumps ever so boldly in your chest, and your smile threatens to crack your lips, and the tears fall freely as words finally leave his mouth.

“My goddess.”

~end~

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[friendlyneighbourhood-parker]

A little note: I have the right to decline any request that I don’t feel comfortable or able to write! Please be polite while requesting (I won’t accept requests if your demanding or rude to me)

Thank you!

What I’m comfortable writing!

Female reader x male/female character

Nonbinary reader x male/female character

Poly couples!

Angst

Aus

Platonic couples

Smut (might take me longer to write)

Things I’m not comfortable with

Noncon/dubcon

Selfcest

Selfharm

p*dophilia/inc*st

____ I haven’t written for but I’m open to

Marvel

James “Bucky” Barnes

Yelena Belova

Kate Bishop

Wanda Maximoff

Layla el-faouly

Michelle Jones

Oscar Isaac

Blue Jones

Orestes

Laurent LeClair

Jonathan Levy

Specific Pairings

Peter Parker x Michelle Jones

Moonbois x Layla el-Faouly

Bucky Barnes x Natasha Romanoff

Amy March x Theodore "Laurie"

disclaimer: I can add or delete any of the things on this list at any given time

[ficsilike-reblogged]

Sweetest of Exiles - Three

A/N: We have reached the end, my loves. As always, all my love to anyone and anyone who read/liked/reblogged and commented on previous chapters. I love you all very much. I allude to a few things that actually happen in ASoIaF lore, so if you have any questions, please just ask!

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x F!Reader (no Y/N), Oberyn Martell x Pero Tovar, Pero Tovar x F!Reader, Ellaria Sand x Oberyn Martell

Warnings for this Chapter: Too much backstory, angst, a threesome, oral (male receiving, female receiving), my uncontrollable need for a happy ending.

Word Count: 6.3k (I need to be stopped)

(banner by my darling @starlight-starwrites​) 

Or read on Ao3 here!

CHAPTER THREE: The Blessed

The sight of Qohor on the horizon almost put tears in her eyes.

She rested her head on her folded arms in the window of the carriage, and watched it grow closer and closer. Home. She was finally home.

But her eyes drifted to the prince and her mercenary as they led the small group toward the city gates. They were quite the pair. And, at least for a few stolen moments, they were all hers.

Most of Oberyn’s company had stayed in Myr, now newly employed by Orestes who had been catapulted to near-royalty status with his wild tales of how his household put down a foreign threat. If his ego had been bruised by her refusing his last-minute proposal, hastily given at the gates of the city and just as easily rejected, he did not show it as he waved them off with a small smile.

Orestes would be fine—she knew it. But his life no longer involved her, no matter his attempts to keep her at his side. No, her future remained unclear. To her, anyway. Her god had not permitted her visions of her own life—perhaps that was for the best.

Again, her eyes drifted to the pair of Oberyn and Pero. And what a pair they were—handsome and startlingly similar in so many ways but different in so many others. While she had been blessed by her god, she considered herself doubly blessed simply for having this pair of men in her life.

The large gates opened and she pulled in a hearty lungful of air, tasting the familiar spices and letting the hint of burnt and cut wood tickle her nose. Nothing compared. And now she had smelt different cities, seen and tasted what they had to offer—she knew nothing could compare. And while she could travel again, she knew that no other place would replace her home.

She called for the carriage to slow to a stop in front of a familiar stone-sided bazaar stall. It was hardly the most eye-catching stall on the cobbled road but it was her favorite. She opened the door before the carriage was completely stopped and she leapt out, pushing by a few possible buyers, and found her father waiting for her with open arms.

His familiar and wonderful arms wrapped around her and he murmured her name into her ear, the word tinged with relief and love. “I shall not have you leave my sight for as long as there is breath in my lungs, my darling.”

“And I shall agree to that, papa.” She pulled back just enough to press a kiss to his grizzled cheek. She turned at the sound of two more people entering the stall and smiled. “Lord Ollo, may I present Prince Oberyn Nymeros Martell—and, of course, you remember Pero Tovar.”

She felt her father stiffen, just for a moment, before he stepped in front of her and greeted the two men. Interesting.

**

She tried to tell herself that it did not hurt when Pero turned away from her after supper, telling her father he wanted to retrace his childhood footsteps with Oberyn. She tried to tell herself that it did not hurt when he was not in the room her father provided for him when she went to speak to him in the middle of the night. She tried to tell herself that it did not hurt when he did not even blink when she presented him with a blue rose and asked if he remembered that day in the forest.

She told herself it did not hurt. But it did.

At least Oberyn was still able to make her smile. He always kissed her goodnight (whether he visited her bedchambers or not) and pulled her into a dance in the cobbled streets when a handful of bards broke into song on a crowded street when she had been showing the prince around the expansive city. “He does not know what he does, Petal. Give him time.”

And perhaps she was being childish, hoping that Pero seeing his old home would bring back his smiles and his affinity for her company, too. But she only nodded at Oberyn’s suggestion and let him lead her in another dance before they set off toward another part of the city, promising him the best spiced hippocras this side of the Narrow Sea. The threat of the zealots had been dealt with—she should be happy. She survived. Her father’s secrets were safe, too.

But when it was quiet on her fifth night back in her own rooms, she knew she could not wait any longer. After pulling on her dressing gown, she sought out her father in his chambers—unsurprised to see him whittling at a chunk of wood instead of sleeping with the late hour. He had not kept regular sleeping hours since her mother had disappeared.

“You should be sleeping, my darling.”

“As should you, papa.” She settled into the cushioned chair beside his working table with a sigh. “Has Pero spoken with you?”

Her father looked at her for a moment before setting down his tools and the bit of wood that was starting to look like a serpent. “He has been cordial, as he always has been. Possibly a bit more unpolished than he had been as a boy—but that was to be expected. It is not often that one meets a well-mannered sellsword.” He almost smiled but it did not last. “I know he has been…different.”

“Has he told you why he left?” She asked, needing to know. Surely her father knew. Right?

But Ollo’s mouth set in a familiar, hard line and he looked away from her. “I had to do it, darling.”

She felt her face crumple at his words. “What do you mean? You were the reason-”

“I sent him away. It was for the best.”

“But…why? Why did you send him away?”

Her father stared at her, lips still set in a firm line before a long breath. “Do you not remember… the day your mother left. You, my darling, hurt Pero. Nearly took his eye.”

“No! No, I…” the words died on her tongue as she tried, tried so hard to remember the day her mother left. Her lady mother had pressed the blue rose petals to her skin and then she had escaped to the forest with Pero, not knowing that would be the last time she would look upon her mother’s face. He had been so sweet. So full of smiles. So different from the hardened man who still held her heart.

She watched the petals float away with the wind and felt something warm slide down her spine—it reminded her of her mother’s calming touch, soothing her when night terrors would keep her awake.

“Petal,” Pero whispered. And she knew it was for her, a name just for her.

But then the gentle warmth turned to a scorching heat and her vision turned dark.

The next thing she remembered was waking on the forest floor, a gentle sprinkling of dew on her cheeks and Pero nowhere to be found.

“I doubt he remembers anything,” her father said as he shook his head. “He stumbled in, face covered in blood. He muttered something about petals and then slumped over on the floor.” He paused. “Just before he completely lost consciousness, he murmured your name and how your eyes had gone white.” Her father paused again. “I knew then what had happened. It had happened with your mother, too.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your mother’s gift, like yours, needed control. She needed to control it or it would control her. Her control slipped. Just once.”

“What happened?” She sat forward in her chair, needing to know what he had seen.

“It looked like someone, something else had inhabited her skin. Only for a moment. She held out a hand and then I felt the room shake. Like the world was trying to break itself open. And then she took a breath and the shaking stopped.”

“Is that all?”

Her father’s mouth once again set in a familiar firm line. “My darling girl, she leveled two dozen trees—cracked them from the trunks without leaving the room. And after she came back to herself, she told me that she had no idea what had transpired. All she remembered was darkness and a sensation akin to sticking her hand in my forge’s fire. And while she had sworn she had not ever done that before, I remembered it happening. It was the night you were born. The entire city shook—I know it—screaming with you as you entered the world.”

She felt her face fall.

“You toppled part of the city with your first breaths, my darling.” Ollo reached out to gently grasp his daughter’s hands and squeezed. “Your mother was always very careful with teaching you about control.”

“Yes, I remember that.” And she did. Her mother had been adamant to sit her down every day to teach her when to realize something was spiraling, her control was slipping—anything like that. And she had always thought she had learned those lessons. But apparently not.

“Something within you, reached out grabbed at whatever living thing was closest to you—needing blood to flourish. It just happened to be Pero.”

Tears stung her eyes and she looked away from her father, not wanting him to see anymore of her shame. “So you sent him away. To protect him.”

“To protect you both. I knew you would never forgive yourself if you had hurt him again—or taken his life. And I knew he would have willingly given anything to you without thought. I had to separate you to keep you both alive—at least until I was sure you could protect yourself.” He shook his head. “I considered it another small blessing that neither one of you remembered what had transpired. Your memories would not be tainted.” Ollo looked like he wanted to say more but was trying to read her face before he continued. He must have seen her heartbreak, because with a final, defeated sigh, he spoke again. “Your mother left because your power was growing—evolving far faster than she had ever seen or heard, even within her own bloodline. She needed to know why. She wanted to do everything in her power to make sure her daughter, her most prized creation, was safe and protected. Even if it was from yourself.”

“But she never returned,” she said. “She never came back.”

Ollo nodded. “But you are old enough now—you have been old enough for quite some time, actually, but I did not want to admit that to myself—to know what happened to her.” He stood and left the room, returning a few moments later with a roll of parchment. A broken golden seal was stamped on it, curled horns and crossed swords. It was her family’s crest. The parchment felt brittle under her fingers as she took it from her father and she carefully unfurled it.

Within the first handful of words, she had to press the back of her hand to her mouth to keep the cry at bay. Her mother—her fierce, beautiful, powerful mother—had set off toward Asshai in search of answers. Answers as to why her little daughter could do such unimaginable things with ease. Why her magic was growing at a rate not thought of in centuries. But she did not find answers. What she found instead, were a group of zealots, also demanding answers from their bloodthirsty god. And their god had required blood, magical blood, and Valyrian Steel. While Daeryssa had evaded them for a moment, she wrote in her missive that she knew her time was limited. After all, she had seen it.

My dear Ollo, I only wish to have been able to look upon your sweet face again and watch our daughter grow strong and beautiful. I am sorry, my love. I know I will see you again in the next life.

With a shaking hand, she handed the parchment back to her father and he quietly slipped away to hide the bit of paper again. She stared out the window, watching the trees sway in the breeze. “I have ruined your life. Pero’s life. Mother’s life. What good is this gift if it only breeds heartbreak?”

Her father’s roughened hands suddenly reached out to grab hers, the familiar scratchy warmth of his hold nearly made tears come to her eyes. “You, my darling, are powerful. Never forget that—and what you are capable of is not a burden or only capable of destruction. You are the heir to your mother’s blood. To her power—the power her family has carried for centuries. Before the Doom. Before the Dragons—and after. And your mother loved you—loves you still, as I do. What she did for you, I know she would have done a thousand times over if it meant you lived, if it meant you smiled.”

She shook her head, feeling the first tears slip down her cheeks. “But I-”

“No, darling. No. You are powerful. You are blessed. Never think to forsake it. He leads us down a path we must follow. I am just sorry that this road has been so cruel to you and Pero. You deserve kindness. Both of you.” He leaned forward and kissed her forehead, like he used to do when she was little and had crawled into his lap to watch him work. “I will speak with Pero. But I believe you should as well.” He patted her cheek and gently wiped her tears away. “But first, you must sleep, darling.”

**

“Keep your eyes closed, Petal,” Oberyn hummed into her ear.

She could only laugh and do as she was told, letting Oberyn tug her forward with a gentle grip on her hands.

Oberyn had taken to Qohor easily—and he was fond of almost everything he could find within the city and its famed forest. But she knew the prince missed home, missed Dorne, and his family fiercely. So, she let him do whatever he wanted, let him show her whatever treasure he had discovered and would delight in it with him—even if she had grown up with those little treats, trinkets, and experiences he found so amusing. She would deny him nothing. She only cared to have him smile.

But today, she could not discern what path he was leading her on—and that was a feat in and of itself. A root catching her foot made her stumble but Oberyn quickly righted her footing and kissed her hands with a laugh. “Careful, Petal. I will not have you hurting yourself.”

She only held his hands tighter and let him continue to lead her forward to some unknown destination. But, soon enough, he pulled her to a stop with a laugh.

“Open your eyes, Petal. We are here.”

She did as she was told and had to blink against the sunlight as it streamed through the thick canopy of the forest. Moss-covered stone and soft grass gave way to large, ancient trunks of trees. Truly, it could have been anywhere in the forest—a forest she had grown up in and loved since she could walk on her own—but this place, this one place of sunshine, was magical.

But maybe it was the fact that Pero was nervously pacing on the edge of a finely women blanket that was stacked with a bit of food and an abundance of wine. Pero had shed his usual armor and was left in his worn, gray tunic and linen breeches. He looked…soft and nervous.

“I almost thought you would have left us with crumbs, Tovar. I am surprised there is still food left.”

Tovar’s pacing ceased and he frowned but his dark eyes quickly flitted to her before his shoulders dropped. “You’re here.”

She felt herself smiling at that, the thought that he did not think she would come if he was present was funny. But she bit back her laugh. “Of course I’m here. I don’t believe either one of us can tell our prince ‘no’ under any circumstances.”

“It is part of my charm,” Oberyn said with a wink in her direction before gently pushing her toward the blanket. “Come now, Petal. Our Pero has managed to raid the best taverns and alehouse to bring us the best feast imaginable.”

As she settled on the blanket, she held out a hand toward Pero who still stood stock-still at the edge. Perhaps she could have brushed aside another rejection, but she hoped she would not have to—after all, he had been the one to set this fete up. For her. For them.

And all her worries were washed away when he placed his calloused hand in hers and let her tug him onto the blanket at her side. “What would you suggest first, Pero? It all looks delicious.”

And so, the three of them settled in, partaking in the admittedly delicious foods and wines Pero had procured and soon they were laughing and speaking and smiling as if there had never been any hurt or confusion between them. And perhaps, one day it could always be like that. But the alcohol continued to flow and each of them, she knew, were starting to feel it and their tongues loosened with each new sip. Inhibitions slipped. Laughs grew louder. And she let herself fall against Pero’s side as Oberyn regaled them with a tale about evading Yronwood’s guards on his way to visit his lady-wife’s chambers. Pero easily adjusted her, letting her rest against his muscular thigh and his fingers trailed, almost absentmindedly, down and across the exposed skin of her collarbone as he would snicker at Oberyn’s stories. “You are a braggart, princeling.”

And perhaps she would have also poked fun at Oberyn if she hadn’t been so transfixed with Pero’s gentle touch. Her eyes fluttered close in a wine-fueled haze, letting herself truly enjoy the easy touch of the man she had loved for most of her life.

“I am a Prince of Dorne!” Oberyn cheered.

“Did you have me haul this out here like a poor pack mule so you could tell us these ridiculous stories?”

Oberyn hmphed and almost glared at Pero but a teasing smile softened the expression. “I had a plan. You two are impossible. I could not sit idly by while you both sulk and cry like children. I love you both. You love each other. You just need a bit of guidance.” He waved a hand at the blanket and discarded bottles.

She looked up at Pero to see him looking down at her, fingers paused their ministrations on her skin.

“Of course, not everything will be fixed with a bit of wine,” said Oberyn, ever the expert. “But it is good to let yourself feel something.” Oberyn leaned forward, smile growing, and stole the last bit of overpriced but delicious hippocras from the jug she had been clutching to her side. “Love is simply the best thing to feel. And if anyone in this world deserves to feel it, it is you two.”

“We love you too, Oberyn,” she said, knowing it was true. And Pero hummed his agreement.

“Of course,” he replied with a smirk. “I am easy to love.”

With that strange admission, they continued to drink and eat. But now, touches started to linger. Gazes grew heated. And then Oberyn kissed her as she sat nearly in Pero’s lap. She felt him smile against her mouth before he stole another kiss and sat back on his heels with a wink. But his heated gaze quickly turned to Pero. “Kiss her, Pero. Kiss her as if your life depends on it. And perhaps it does.”

Pero’s hands were warm and calloused as they gently framed her face. She could have sworn his fingers were shaking before she pushed forward to press her lips against his. And he tasted…like paradise.

it would be impossible to know when the laces were starting to be undone, or who slipped their tunic off first. But soon they were bare and hands were grasping and touching and groping.

The haze of the wine and the euphoria of their touch had her gasping and moaning—even before Oberyn’s talented fingers found their way between her thighs. And then Pero’s hand was joining as his mouth dragged down the column of her throat. She bucked up into their touch, only earning a hand pressing down against her stomach and a familiar chuckle in her ear. “Patience, Petal. We will take care of you.”

“But I…” her breath stuttered. “I want to take care you, too.���

Pero carefully pulled his hand back and swatted at Oberyn until he could press her down into the blanket, warm hands pushing her legs apart before leaning down to lick against her pussy and Oberyn devoured the moan she let out.

It did not take long for her to scream in ecstasy against the prince’s mouth—she had never come so fast.

In a daze, she turned her head and took Oberyn’s cock into her mouth, bobbing her head down as much as she was able, and his answering groans were near music to her ears. But soon—too soon—his hands were gently pulling her off of him and licked into her mouth as Pero finally stopped licking at her, and trailed a line of kisses up her stomach to lathe attention at her breasts.

“Can you take us both, Petal?”

She could only nod against Oberyn’s mouth at his question—she would do anything either of them asked.

And carefully, with a bit of reverence in each of their touches, the pair positioned her between them on her knees. Pero was at her front, Oberyn at her back. And she shuttered as something cool was dripped down her back.

It was all in a haze, how they moved to keep her comfortable but still rob the air from her lungs. And she was so full—so deliciously full. Four hands cradled her softly as she adjusted and words of encouragement were whispered against her neck or kisses pressed to her cheeks. It was all so…beautifully stimulating. So wonderfully filled.

And then they began to move.

They were everywhere at once, devouring every sense she had. All of it, all of her, belonged to them in that moment. And she loved it. Loved the slow and harsh thrusts they gave. Loved the slide of their tongues against hers or the sting of their teeth against her skin.

She felt a tightness in her core that she had never before experienced, and she gasped into Pero’s mouth as his hips continued to thrust and Oberyn matched his tempo.

“You’re doing so well, Petal.” Oberyn bit out a curse against her throat. “You feel like heaven.”

“Oh please,” she breathed out, “please-please-please.” She did not know what she was begging for, but the pair readily gave it. Moving their hips in tandem, they dragged her higher and higher until tears were pricking at her eyes and she screamed with her release, feeling the coil snap and bite. It was soon followed by a beautiful, heady warmth and her men groaning into her skin and biting at her neck.

“You’re so beautiful,” Pero whispered against her sweat-slick skin. “So beautiful.”

“And so are you, Pero. You’re beautiful,” she hummed in return. She turned her head and managed to steal a kiss against Oberyn’s panting mouth. “And you are, too, my prince.”

And again, carefully and with veneration, they pulled away from her and let her rest against the rumpled blanket. A cold cloth was pressed between her thighs, cleaning her up as kisses upon kisses were pressed against her heated skin and her slick, smiling lips.

“Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful,” Pero chanted. “My beautiful Petal.”

**

Oberyn was quiet. That in and of itself was strange—but the rigidity of his posture was even stranger. A small strip of parchment was crumpled in his hand. Something was wrong.

Carefully, slowly, she approached him and slipped her fingers around his, taking the parchment from his grasp. The horror she read in such few lines had her cupping a hand over her mouth to hide her gasp. His sister, her babies, his uncle—all of them gone in brutal ways. And now the men responsible were ruling the Seven Kingdoms.

“I must go back to Westeros,” was all Oberyn said.

She only nodded. She would never deny him his wrath.

And so, their time together came to a close. She had known it was coming, and Pero seemed to know it, too. When he learned of Oberyn’s decision to leave, he only nodded and held her as she cried. He was fond of holding her, it seemed. Even when he did not speak. And she did wish for him to speak—she still had questions that needed answers—but she had to be content with this for now.

He continued to hold her, arms wrapped around her waist, as they met Oberyn at the city gates to see him off. The gift she had brought was heavy in her arms as she watched Oberyn tie his packs to the horse. Tears gathered in her eyes as she held the gift up toward her prince and he took the wrapped package with a nod and untied it carefully. The spear glinted in the sunlight and the wooden handle was carved with a snake, its open maw biting at the metal. It was Valyrian Steel, forged and constructed only for him. “A gift for you. A token of my and my father’s thanks for all you have done.”

She smiled as Oberyn took the spear and twirled it just once, before nodding, the barest trace of a smile on his lips. She considered it a small victory, seeing him smile once more. Just before he left, she pressed a kiss to Oberyn’s lips and then Pero did the same.

“Be safe, my prince.”

The Prince of Dorne only nodded. “I will see you again, my friends. I promise you that.” And then…he was gone.

**

It took some time for her to find Pero in the bazaar. He had taken to working with her father, learning the trade and secret art behind Valyrian Steel. While he still scared some of the Qohorik people, he was gentle with the little ones who wandered away from their mothers and into her father’s stall. His sword had been retired in all but oath. And he seemed to become even more pensive and quiet after Oberyn’s departure. And it almost broke her heart all over again. But she was tired of being hurt. And she wanted answers. So, on the third night after Oberyn left, she slipped into his chambers.

She kneeled on his featherbed and smiled when he startled awake and reached for a blade she knew was hiding beneath his pillow. She pulled it from his grasp and set it aside as he blinked against the dim candlelight of his room.

“Tell me, Pero. Tell me why you left me all those years ago. I cannot bear it any longer. If you must leave me again, leave me as Oberyn did, please give me a reason. That is all I ask. You know you have my heart, I only wish to know yours.”

Pero frowned. “You’ve chosen quite the hour for this question, Petal. Could it not have waited until morning?” But he continued on without waiting for her answer, but his dark eyes fell to the blankets across his waist. “My family’s name had been tarnished by my father’s deeds. What more would having a woodcutter as a son do? It was not as if I could marry and help my family’s prospects. The least I could do was give them a bit of coin to survive. So, I came here and found work with your family. And then…” his dark eyes finally raised to meet hers. “My priorities changed. I only ever wanted to prove myself to you, to your father, to know I was worthy to be at your side. But then I was sent away. Like a little beggar. I knew then that I had been deceiving myself in thinking that I could ever call you mine.”

“But I am. I am yours. I always have been and always will be—even if you send me away and curse my name. I am yours. It was my fault you were sent away. You did nothing wrong. My father adores you. Mother loved you. This was my doing. I…hurt you, Pero. My father sent you away to keep you alive. I did not have control.” She reached up and placed her hand against his cheek, thumb catching the end of the scar below his eye. “Your blood—it called to me. I did not, could not control it. And I hurt you. Father suspects you do not remember it.”

Pero shook his head but she did not remove her hand from his face, unable to part from his warmth again.

“I have only the faintest memory of it and, truthfully, it may be only shaped by my father’s account of the incident. But it was my fault. It was me. If anything had been different, if I had been better, you could have stayed.” Tears once again stung at her eyes. “Can you ever forgive me?”

He was quiet for a moment before, ever so quietly, he said, “there is nothing to forgive. We have both wasted enough time, wouldn’t you agree?”

She could only nod before a happy sob wrenched its way out of her throat and she threw her arms around him, pressing her lips against his over and over again, uncaring of his rumbling laughter. His grip tightened, nearly to the point of pain, before she was lifted off her feet and spun around.

They were suddenly ten years younger and without a care in the world.

“I love you, Petal,” he whispered against her mouth.

“I love you, too.”

She had Pero in her hands again. And she would never let him go.

**

Years passed. And while the pair did take a handful of travels outside Qohor, they always returned to Qohor and the city’s comforting forest and dark stone. When the smallest Tovar came screaming into the world exactly a year after they said their quiet vows in the familiar shadow of the forest, they all decided that their travels would not take them from their home until they knew that their child, a precocious little boy who loved to sit on his grandfather’s lap and watch him work when he was not tugging on his mother’s skirts for attention, could fend for himself.

Another two years passed and another babe was born. This time, they had a little girl. Pero—just as he had been with their son—was smitten the moment he set eyes on their dark hair and gentle eyes. Like her mother, the little one inherited the gift.

She felt tears coming to her eyes when Pero rolled toward her in their overstuffed featherbed and grasped her hands. “I swear to you, our little girl will not suffer as we did. Our boy will know only happiness. On my life, on my blood, I swear it.”

She leaned forward and kissed him, knowing his words to be true.

Her gift flourished with Pero at her side and her children’s laughter ringing in her ears. There was peace in her life, for the most part.

Ravens from Dorne came often. Oberyn was keen on retaining his friendship with the pair and they were always happy to receive his missives and send a lengthy letter back in return. There was a certain anger in most of his letters now, or sadness. Even when he spoke of his love, Ellaria, or announced the birth of his daughter Elia, she and Pero knew he was still grieving. He would always grieve. The prince’s heart was too big to truly heal.

The latest raven arrived on a cold morning, its wings dotted with dew. She stroked under the bird’s neck and it flapped its wings in thanks before flying off after she untied the small bit of parchment from around its leg.

She unfurled it with a sigh, recognizing the handwriting instantly. As soon as she was finished reading it, she found Pero in the small forge outside their home and handed it over. She watched him read it before throwing the paper into the fire, its contents meant to be a secret.

Pero held the sword he was forging into a tub of water and looked at her over the rising steam. “We must go to Braavos.”

The children were happy to spend time alone with their grandfather but did cling to their mother’s skirts and father’s trousers before they left and Pero kept turning back on his horse to look at them as they waved at their parents.

“They will be fine, my love,” she said with a smile, blowing a final kiss toward her precious children.

“I know,” Pero grumbled. “But I still do not like it.”

She reached out and grasped her husband’s hand and squeezed. “We will return before they can even start to miss us. But our prince needs us. He would do the same if it were us asking.”

And thankfully, the trip from Qohor to Braavos was less than exciting and they arrived the day Oberyn’s boat was set to appear, too. They knew that Oberyn had come to Braavos on business he spoke of in code in the missive. Meetings with a Pentoshi Magistrate by the name of Illyrio Mopatis. A marriage pact. A secret alliance. It was all so clandestine. She only hoped Oberyn would not suffer any more than he already had.

But they settled into their rooms and then dashed toward the port. The orange and golden sails of a foreign ship were a delight to see—as was Oberyn walking down a gangplank, dressed in a fine golden robe. His dark eyes spotted them and he raised a hand in greeting, smile splitting his face as he walked toward them.

She smiled as she noticed the beautiful woman on Oberyn’s arm, her belly gently swelling with child. The woman she had seen—she was even more beautiful than her mind could have conjured.

“My friends, this is my paramour, Ellaria Sand. My love,” Oberyn started, stretching out his arm toward her and Pero, “these are my two dear friends. Pero Tovar and his lady-wife-”

“You must call me Petal,” she said, stepping forward to grasp Ellaria’s hands. “I feel as if we are friends already.”

Ellaria smiled and squeezed her hands. “I feel the same. Oberyn has told me much about his adventures at your side.”

Pero let Oberyn pull him into a hug in greeting before the four of them walked further into the city, knowing they had time before Oberyn was to meet with the magistrate. They spoke of their time apart, telling each other what they had missed. Ellaria easily proved herself to be a fierce friend and she found herself whispering into Ellaria’s ear like they were just girls again while Pero and Oberyn challenged each other to a drinking game.

It was all so…easy. It almost made her forget the reason behind Oberyn’s presence in the city.

A sudden hiss of pain caught her attention and she turned to see Oberyn shaking his hand, a broken chalice on the table in front of him. Without thought, she reached out and grasped his bloodied hand, staunching the blood with her fingers.

“Petal…” Ellaria’s words faded as she pulled back to see Oberyn’s hand already starting to heal.

Oberyn huffed out a laugh and kissed her bloodied fingers in thanks. “You are still to kind and talented for your own good, Petal.”

She glanced at the Ellaria and winked, “I know your prince told you about me. Don’t be scared.” Almost unconsciously, she wiped her hands clear of his blood on the strip of linen she had been using as a napkin during their meal. Almost clear. As she took a bite of her food and licked her finger clean.

She froze.

“Petal?” Pero whispered, his hand finding hers under the table.

“Beware the fallen mountain. It will rise again,” she said, hearing her voice but not recognizing it. And as soon as it started, the gift released its grip on her and she felt something cold slide down her spine.

Oberyn and Ellaria were staring at her, eyes wide, from across the table and Pero’s hand was gripping hers tightly. “What does that mean?” Ellaria asked.

She could only shake her head. “I do not know. Only time will tell.”

**

Oberyn seemed hopeful when he told them goodbye. And Ellaria was smiling, still cradling her growing bump as she held both of them close and told them she would send a raven when the newest Sand Snake was welcomed into the world.

They were good people. She knew it.

She leaned against Pero with a sigh, smiling when his arm wrapped around her waist as they watched the boat disappear on the horizon.

“Will we see them again?”

“I know we will,” she answered as she turned to press a kiss against her husband’s cheek. “The world is not done with Oberyn Martell nor Ellaria Sand. I can feel it.”

She felt his smile as he turned his face against hers, pressing his lips to her temple. “Let us go home, then, Petal.” And he kissed her again.

A/N: thanks for taking this adventure with me. I love you all. 

beautiful people who asked to be tagged:  @huliabitch @heatherbel @corrupt-fvcker @justanotherblonde23 @din-damn-djarin @mikariell95​

[rosecentaur1916]

A Thread Through Time Masterlist

Hello! Welcome to the Masterlist for my new Fan Fiction Series! This is a collection of reader insert one shot stories of most of Oscar Isaac's characters. Note that there are a few I will not write stories for, like at all because of age or other factors that make me uncomfortable. This Masterlist will contain a list of characters that I will update as/if I find more.

Characters I will not write for list:

-The Pool Boy from“Illtown”

-Joseph from “The Nativity Story”

-Nick Wasicsko from “Show Me a Hero”

-Paul Gauguin from “At Eternity's Gate”

-Gomez Addams from "The Addams Family" or "The Addams Family 2"

-Francis Ford Coppola from "Francis and the Godfather" -Peter Malkin from "Operation Finale"

-The Interpreter from Che: Part One

-Dante Alighieri or Nick Tosches from "In the Hand of Dante"

I will NOT be writing a chapter about Oscar himself. He is married with two children. I do not feel comfortable with that. Plus this story is about his characters not him. All chapters depend on me knowing the character and the short film/movie/show they are from. If I haven’t watched the short film/movie/show they are from, I can’t write about them, so some characters will have to wait until I see their short film/movie/show. 

Apocalypse is included in this. He will have a chapter all his own.

These stories will be in some sort of order, its just not going to be timeline order that'd be too difficult as Oscar could go and make a movie about something that takes place in 1900 and I've already written chapters earlier in that time period, and I wouldn't want to re-arrange everything just to fit it in. So these will more or less just be snapshots through time and space of the all over "thread through time" that connects Reader and the characters love story. All of these chapters/one shots will contain smut or at least smutty themes. They are all going to be M/F for the most part unless there is a reason to change that, like adding a partner that may be there in canon. I.E. Lady Jessica from Dune. Reader is always female, as I am female. I'll try to use as general terms as much as possible, but I am female and identify as female and I write from my own perspective. Write what you know, right? (The answer to this should always be yes.) All of the characters will be written the way I interpret them from their various shows. If you don't like that, then don't read it. I don't want to be persecuted because you found character [x] to be characterized one way and I didn't write him your way. If you want your character written your way, go and find those fics or write them yourself.   This fic is inspired by pathetic_fallacy’s one shot collection for Lin-Manuel Miranda entitled “It’s Always Been You" on Ao3.

Credits for pictures I used from upsplash for story picture: Photo by Alex Lion on Unsplash ← Clock

Photo by amirali mirhashemian on Unsplash ← Thread

Photo by Octavio Fossatti on Unsplash ← Couple Holding hands

Chapters: Chapter 1: Epigraph Chapter 2: The Ship of Orestes

Chapter 3: Au Contraire My Dear Blue

Chapter 4: Rydal, I Stole your Heart with Slight of Hand

Chapter 5: Laurent's Tragic Masterpiece -- coming at some point. Chapter 6: Chapter 7:

Chapter 8:

Chapter 9:

Chapter 10:

Chapter 11:

Chapter 12:

Chapter 13:

Chapter 14:

Chapter 15:

Chapter 16: Chapter 17:

Chapter 18: Chapter 19:

Chapter 20:

Chapter 21:

Chapter 22:

Chapter 23:

Please Reblog Divider by @cafekitsune

[lonelyisamyw-0love]

Remember what I said? About yelling from the rooftops!?!?

I WILL CONTINUE TO DO SO!!! FEN FUCKS SAKE!!! How do you tap DIRECTLY into my skull and know what i'll adore!!

I have a tattoo I recently got on the back of my thigh thats inspired by the phrase "The creature that wants to kill you will not growl"

THIS!?!?! This is That tattoo!!! What the FUCK man!! The Visions ™ are doing well in guiding you!💖💖

When Darkness Falls

Orestes x afab!Monster!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • Kinktober 2024 Masterlist • Day 16: Public Sex

Summary: After Orestes and his men are captured by a strange group, the punishment seems unusual.

A/N: Thank you so much @thexsanctuaryx for beating and saving me as always! I don't know how my mind turned 'public sex' into this.

Warnings: Monster!Reader (werewolf-y), swearing, p in v sex, injuries, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 1850

Orestes winced as the guard pressed against his injured shoulder and forced him to his knees. His wrists were bound behind his back, so tightly that the rope was cutting off the blood supply to his fingers.

“You are accused of trespassing on our lands. From taking fruit from the Hylopius tree.” The man bellowed, he was dressed in dark blue robes finely woven. Seven others, presumably nobles and the jury, stood to his side. 

“My men and I were lost, we took shelter from the storm. We did not know these were your lands,” Orestes tries to keep his tone strong and even, to keep his chin high as he answers. “We-”

“Ignorance is not an excuse.” He snarls. “You pillage, and take. But you are far from your Rome now. Your crimes will not go unpunished.” 

Orestes breathes deeply. “Please, my men, they are innocent in this. I will take the punishment, if you let-”

“You are in no position to demand anything.”

“I am not demanding, I am-” The leader gestures with his hand and Orestes winces in pain as the guard presses against the wound in his temple.

“Your men fought back against our soldiers, they are as guilty as you are. I will cast punishment on you all.” He grins wickedly. “The Lycan’s Pit.” 

The noblemen laugh.

Orestes is dragged to his feet and pulled from the room, “What, what is that? What do you speak of?” 

The guards do not answer as he is taken into a large hall beautifully decorated in fine mosaic. The images of torn bodies and blood, of huge creatures with red eyes shaped like the beasts of childhood nightmares painstakingly crafted. There are rows of seats carved into the walls, the layout reminiscent of a small scale colosseum, able to hold around 50 people.

In the centre of the room was a circle pit that seemed to travel into the depths of the earth itself. 

“They will feast on your flesh.” The leader laughs. 

“Wait-” A loud gong of a bell echoes out, cutting off his words as he is thrown into the middle of the room next to the pit, he grunts, managing to get to his knees as the guards bring out thorned branches layered with silver chains. They arrange them around the outside of the floor, a barrier from the seats and Orestes. 

“What is that?” He asks.

The nobles take seats as the guards stand to attention, more people flood in, all equally dressed in finery and sit.

“The Lycans cannot cross the barrier.” The leader laughs, like he was explaining a basic concept. 

“I wonder who will join us today?” One nobel asks another.

“I hope it is Baral. He is the most vicious. I want to see him tear the roman apart.” 

Orestes swallows thickly, pulling at the ropes. If he could just…

There is a low growl from the pit. A deep and terrible snap of teeth. 

He freezes despite myself when a large clawed hand grabs hold of the side. It‘s huge, the palm alone bigger than his head, some kind of mix between a human and a wolf. 

Slowly the creature pulls itself up and out, snarling with rows of sharp teeth and blood red eyes. 

He wants to scream. But he can’t move, can’t think.

A hush falls on the nobles as the creature appears and stalks around to Orestes. 

He seems to snap back to reality, and struggles to stand, to run, to defend himself, to-

The creature lunges forward and on top of him. 

He closes his eyes, bracing for the sharp stink of ripping claws and teeth. But it doesn’t come. 

He breathes deeply, raggedly, his heart pounding in his temples and slowly opens his eyes.

It’s dark, like he’s in a cave. It takes a moment for him to realise that the cave is fur. The creature seemingly, somehow draped over him to make a small tent like space. 

He sits up a little, his shoulder brushing the fur. It’s soft and warm, moving a little with the creature's breath.

“Hello.” 

He jumps, pushing himself back further against the fur and you giggle. 

“I am sorry to scare you.” 

Orestes blinks heavily, you’re sitting opposite him crouched with a large smile on your face. He can see your canines, larger than a person’s should be, and your eyes deep and red. But beautiful, oh so painfully beautiful.

You give him a little wave and he nods his head. 

“They tied you?” Your voice is sweet and gentle.

He nods again. 

You tut and carefully edge forward. 

He swallows, sucking in a breath in spite of himself, you move like running water, swift and mesmerising, your body completely naked. 

You watch him as you move, careful for any signs of distress like he was an injured rabbit in a trap. 

You reach back and cut the ropes with your sharp nails that retract a little when you are finished. 

“There you go.” “Thank you.” He mutters, staring bewitched as you move back a fraction but remain close. “There is a creature, a…”

You smile. He knows it’s you.

“Where are we?” He swallows, rubbing life back into his fingers. 

“We are not where you were.” 

“Am I dead?” 

You shake your head. “We will have to return there, shortly. Here is just to talk for a moment.” You touch his temple, the gooey blood on his skin. 

He flinches but doesn’t pull away when he realises your touch is gentle. 

“Are you going to kill me?” He breathes, watching you intently. His heart is still beating fast, his muscles tingling with adrenaline. But he doesn’t want to run or fight, he wants… he wants to…

“No.” You smile, taking your fingers to your lips and licking off his blood. 

“Why?” He asks without thinking. 

You laugh lightly. “You smell… nice.”

“Nice?” His mouth twitches upwards, surprised. 

You nod, leaning a little forward. “You don’t smell like food.” You whisper.

Orestes swallows. He can’t help himself, can’t stop himself even if he wanted to. He tilts his head and presses his lips to yours in a rush. 

You lick into his mouth and he tastes his own blood on your tongue. He groans, lightheaded and needy as he presses himself closer.

He whines when you pull back a fraction, smiling. “You smell like a mate.” 

Orestes nods desperately. “Please.”

“Do you accept me?” 

He nods rapidly, pushing himself closer to you again. His cock aches between his legs, pressing against his clothing and begging to be freed. 

“In any form?” 

“In any form.” He mutters. “Please.” 

You grin. 

In a blink of his eyes, he is back in the mosaic hall, flat on his back. The nobles watching as the creature, you, lean over him, your teeth so close to snapping into the flesh of his neck. 

He turns his head, touches your soft fur with his free hands. “Please.” 

You let out a soft growl, the sound vibrating through his chest. 

There’s some quiet murmuring from the crowd, anticipation as they think he’s about to get eaten alive.

With one clawed hand, you lightly dip under his clothing, ripping it in two clean down the middle. 

Orestes gasps, biting his lip as you bow your head down and lick a broad flat stripe with your thick tongue. You start between his legs, rising up his body until you flick just under his jaw. 

He groans, his eyes rolling back as he squirms under you, your strong form keeping him pressed down and at your mercy. 

There are a few confused whispers, surprised at how he seems to be enjoying himself. 

His cock is already painfully hard, throbbing in time with his rapid heartbeat. You nuzzle at his neck, your breath hot on his skin as you lay yourself fully over him, moving your legs and taking his length inside yourself. 

Orestes gasps, moaning loudly as he sinks inside. He claws at your fur, trying to pull you closer as he shakes. It feels so good, liquid pleasure running up his spine as he fills you that practically paralyses him in place. 

His cry of passion is almost indistinguishable from one of pain, and at first, the crowd thinks he has been split open. 

You growl and he shivers as you rock your hips. It’s like you’re everywhere, touching him with claws and teeth and nails and hands. He can feel your lips on his thighs and stomach, fur and skin on his chest, both forms seemingly at once as you increase your pace. 

It’s electric, addicting as you devour him; mind, and body, and soul. 

“Yes, yes, please, yes,” he moans, uncaring of the many eyes watching him hurtling rapidly to his release. Your heat squeezes him, caresses him, lets him sink deeper into mind numbing pleasure. 

“Please,” he sobs, he wants to call your name but he realises, painfully, that he hadn’t asked for it, instead he pulls at your fur, at your shoulders, at any part of you he can reach. 

You snap your teeth and it sounds like a chuckle before you lick along his neck and drag your canines along his skin. 

“My heart,” he whispers, his voice strained, “I’m, I’m close.” He doesn’t want this to stop, to ever end. But he can feel his body racing towards his climax like an unbridled horse. His hips buck, his balls tightened. 

You rock faster, you slick running down and coating his skin as your warmth begs for his release. In this form, you need his pleasure desperately. Can only have your own as he experiences his. 

He whines, crying out beautifully as his back arches. He comes loudly, shivering and sobbing as he empties into you, giving you every single part of himself. 

Pleasure rushes along your veins, embeds in your bones and you howl, long and hard as you come with him. 

You lick into his mouth, cradling him as he nuzzles against you. 

“Foolish beast!” The leader yells, shouting for the guards. 

One hurls a spear at you that clatters off your form as if it was a rain drop. But Orestes flinches.

And you snarl. 

You turn quickly, jumping from him and barreling through the barrier that does absolutely nothing to stop you. You rip the guards and nobles to pieces in a matter of seconds, moving faster than they can fathom as they scream in terror. How dare they threaten him, your mate. 

You blink, the rage dulling.

Slowly, you turn back to Orestes, worried for a second about your outburst until you see his soft eyes as he reaches out for you. You move back to him, nuzzling your face into his palm. 

He kisses your nose, your cheek, licking some of the sprayed blood from your fur as you embrace him, laying him back down under you protectively. 

“I did not ask for your name, my love.” He whispers softly and smiles when you mutter it against his ear. He repeats it slowly with undying affection. 

Thank you for reading!

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[ivystoryweaver]

WIP Game

thanks for the tag @runa-falls

RULES: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

A WIP folder, what's that??

The Box (NSFW edition) Part 2 - Marc Spector - 18+

On My Knees Part 3 - Steven Grant - 18+

Can't Stand It - Marc Spector

Made for You - Orestes

There is Someone... - Poe Dameron

Left Behind - Duke Leto Atreides - 18+

The Only One - Poe Dameron

Decadent - Migue O'Hara - 18+

Perfect Fit Part 2 - Nathan Bateman - 18+

Spectre - Moon Knight system - 18+

Untitled Miguel O'Hara x deaf female SO

Untitled Steven Grant x M!reader fluff

Untitled Duke Leto Atreides

I don't even think that's all of them.........

My Masterlist

npt (Ignore if you've been tagged already) @melodygatesauthor @romanarose @hon3yboy @virtie333 @winniethewife @dowbastan @thexsanctuaryx and whomever else!

[blackleatherjacketz]

When In Rome

Orestes (Agora) x Female Reader

Summary: You travel back in time and run into Orestes who makes sure you are very taken care of.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Power Play/Imbalance, Bathing Together, Bath Sex, Water Sex, Vaginal Sex, Kissing, Tattoos, Togas, Torches, Time Travel, The Butterfly Effect, Ancient Rome/Egypt, Roman Baths, The Night Sky

Word Count: 2k+

Read more Oscar stories HERE!

The warm water surrounds your naked body as you allow yourself to sink deeper into it, steam slowly snaking its way into your pores as the woman who helped you get undressed disappears behind an archway. You weren’t exactly sure what was going to happen to you once they separated you from Jack. You could have been put in jail, sold into slavery or even executed, so a meal of bread and wine followed by a hot bath seemed like a pleasant enough alternative.

“Your companion is just a few rooms away,” a man starts speaking to you as he enters the room, almost as if he were waiting for the handmaiden to leave before addressing you. “If your thoughts still linger on him.”

He’s dressed just like the other soldiers who found you on the dirt road today, only with more adornments fixed onto his wardrobe. The armor on his chest reflects the light of the torch without any blemish, letting you know that he hasn’t done much fighting lately despite the scars on his face and hands. The cloth draped around his shoulder is a deep crimson, bleeding into different shades of red and gold before fading into a light cream around its tips. His charcoal curls remain tucked behind his ears as they cascade down the back of his neck, making you wonder if you had ended up in ancient Greece or ancient Rome; or if maybe you were somewhere else entirely.

“He’ll be safe here tonight,” he starts again, pointing in your direction, “Both of you will be. He’ll be given all the wine, food and comfort he could possibly need.” He removes his sandals by the spot you placed your clothes earlier, noting their unique design before taking the cloth off of his shoulder. “I hope you were offered the same accommodations in my quarters?”

His quarters… right. So he owns this house, and from what you remember of high school history class, most of the people who helped you, too.

You nod as he looks at you, his handsome face coming into full view as the flame on the wall licks at the warm air just above him. It casts a golden hue onto his skin as he takes his armor off with the rest of his clothes, setting everything down in a neat pile next to yours as the definition of his muscles becomes more apparent. He stands up and lets you see him, all of him as a peppering of black curly hair trickles down his trunk between his legs as you do your best not to stare in awe. He’s a wonder to behold, a perfectly sculpted specimen of musculature; truly someone had to have painted a picture or carved a statue of him to commemorate his beauty at some point in history.

“Is the temperature of the water pleasing to you?” He brings you back to the moment and starts walking toward you, his footsteps barely audible as the moisture from the bath coats the brick floor in a clear mist. “I always like it a little hotter than most.”

You try not to stare at his dick as it bounces between his legs with each step he takes down into the bath with you, but the Roman gods had truly blessed this man. Your breath halts as your mind jumps ahead to what it would feel like to have him inside of you, to find out if men from hundreds of years ago were any better at pleasing you than those from your own time period. No, you shouldn’t be thinking about that, about him or your own physical pleasure right now. You should be thinking about how to find Jack and come up with a way to get back home.

“It’s good, it’s great, thank you,” you stutter, watching the water slowly envelop his hips and waist.

“Forgive my manners, you must think me rude.” He points to his chest as he takes his last step into the water, barely covering his nipples as he approaches you. “I’m Orestes, and you are?”

“Maria,” you lie, hoping the name is as ancient and international as you think it is.

“A beautiful name for a beautiful woman.” He smiles and wades through the water to get closer to you, the ripples from his movements ebbing and flowing against your skin as the heat from his body begins to permeate through it. “Those markings on your body,” he notes the tattoos on your shoulders and chest, tracing the design on your upper arm with his fingertips, “I haven’t seen anything like that before.”

Your body tenses as he follows the black outline of the flower up your arm, sending a tingling sensation into your spine as he spreads the trail of moisture across your chest. He rests his hand on your shoulder where the ink meets your sternum before disappearing entirely. Something about him touching you like this makes you more acutely aware that this is actually happening, that he’s a real person just like you and not just some dream your subconscious whipped up after falling asleep watching reruns of HBO’s Rome.

“Where did you get them?” He asks, scanning the pattern of your artwork.

Your mind starts racing through all the nearby countries that would have been actual places during this era, somewhere he’d actually believe you could be from before opening your mouth.

“Sevilla,” you tell him as his fingers start to massage the taut muscles in the back of your neck. That's a place near here, right? Oh wow, he’s insanely good at that. Oh my God…

“Spain?” He raises an eyebrow as he continues to rub your neck, his full lips pouting into a playful smirk. “That’s a long way from here.”

“Yes, it is.” You keep your speech plain as he leans into you, smoothing his fingers up into your hairline as he reaches for something behind you, all but pulling you into his chest. The smell of red wine and sweat ignites your senses, his axilla nearly suffocating you before he lets go and pulls back with a sponge drenched in soap.

Right. You’re in a bath. Duh.

But wait a minute, wasn’t there a movie about this? The Butterfly Effect? If you keep going along with this, you might not be born or something even crazier could happen? Didn’t Jack warn you about this at one point, too?

“Will you help me wash?” His eyes darken in the amber light of the distant flames, olive cheeks flushing a hint of pink as he awaits your answer.

You point to yourself as if you don’t already know that you’re the only two people in this room. “Me?” You laugh nervously, “You want me to…?” You find it difficult to breathe all the sudden, your previous thoughts of him becoming that much more realistic with each passing second. “Yeah,” you nod, “I can do that.”

Eh, butterfly effect, schmutterfly effect.

You take the sponge from him, squeezing it gently as you press it into his skin. You take your time massaging your way up his forearm and bicep as you feel his opposite hand take your waist, forcing your lungs to inhale and your nipples to harden. You do your best to ignore how good his hand makes you feel, his thumb softly brushing against your belly as you rub deep circles into the muscles of his chest. You keep your eyes on the sponge, watching as the soap drips through your fingers and onto your wrist before splashing cloudy circles into the water below.

You stand on your tiptoes and reach up behind his shoulders to wash the skin beneath his curls, the soapy water cascading down his body and onto your breasts as you grab the sponge with your opposite hand. You pause as you feel his member begin to grow against your navel, his lashes feathering against your cheek as his nose needily nudges you to continue.

You nudge right back, turning your head to the side just enough to align your lips with his before he kisses you. Soft, tender lips press into yours as he glides his hand to the small of your back, forcing you to let go of the sponge as you wrap your arms around his neck.

He guides you to the edge of the bath, leisurely walking you backwards until your shoulder blades collide with the border as he parts your lips with his tongue. That scent of red wine is now a full bodied flavor as it excites your taste buds, notes of grapes and pomegranate nearly intoxicating you more than the small glass you drank before. He moans into you, consuming every inch of your mouth with unbridled ferocity as the flavor increases, cupping your face in his hand.

You comb your fingers through his hair in return, breathing into him as your chest rises and falls in time with his, hearts beating in the same rapid rhythm as you both tremble in delicious anticipation. You gasp as he forgoes the grip on your face to claim purchase on both of your thighs, the buoyancy of the bath aiding in lifting you up high enough to straddle his waist.

“Gods, you’re so beautiful,” he whispers, hungrily taking your bottom lip between his teeth.

“You too,” you mutter, licking his mouth as he pulls your lip taut.

You kiss him again as he softens his bite, groaning as his dick throbs beneath your junction, teasing you to the brink of frustration. The warm water surrounding you conceals just how wet and ready you are for him to enter as you wrap your legs around his hips, crisscrossing them behind his ass. You feel him thrust gently between your folds as he continues to kiss you, palms squeezing your cheeks until he finally angles his hips just right.

A stifled gasp leaves your lips as he pushes inside you, forcing your head to fall back in ecstasy as he fills you up inch by ancient Roman inch. He pulls you into him, stretching you out with his impressive girth until he bottoms out, hips flush with the underside of your thighs. He pulls back and pushes in again, grinding into you as the water surrounding you splashes against the edge of the pool like the Mediterranean at high tide.

Cradling your head as he increases his pace, he shields you from the impact of his desire as he kisses down your neck and jawline. He hums into your skin, tasting every part of you that he possibly can as he slowly pulses wave after blissful wave into your core. He moves as if he’s known you your entire life, every delightful spot inside and out of you as he brings you close to the edge with utter delectation.

Your moans echo off the vast brick walls of the building, disappearing into the night sky through the absent roof of the room he continues to please you in. You tug on his curls as he brings you closer, your body keening into him as his pelvis pushes against your clit from an angle he’d never be able to hit on land. You close your eyes as the waves crash around you, the warmth of your pleasure erupting through your torso into your extremities in a series of shakes and spasms as you cry out one last time.

“Orestes!” His name is but a silent scream in your throat as your toes curl in sheer delight. Droplets of water splash onto your face as he finishes his exertion with a hushed moan, biting into your clavicle as he coats your inner walls with his timeless orgasm. He quivers just as erratically as you, letting you pull him in so close, the two of you merely merge into one being under the silent audience of stars.

He smooths your hair back away from your face as he remains inside you, kissing your cheeks and forehead with a smile as he catches his breath. “I bet you’re exhausted from your travels,” he croons, kissing your lips again.

“A little,” you admit, not wanting to leave this moment, despite having broken the space-time continuum.

“Let’s get you to bed.”

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

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