#true we're already in halloween time

[livinginshambles]

I thought you'd be different | James Potter

Pairing: James Potter x Slytherin!Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4.6k

Summary: A cinderella story (maybe a little romeo and juliet while we're at it) but Hogwarts - Enemies-ish to lovers. You find an enchanted parchment through wich you anonymously talk to a stranger (James). When you meet him at the Yule ball, he is not who you expected, but you give him a chance. When you realise that was clearly a mistake, you flee cinderella style.

Probably part one of two again.

Notes: Not proofread, grammar mistakes. Discrimination issues, themes of bullying. Regulus is our friend. James is an idiot, but we knew that already. Sirius sucks.

Masterlist. Part two. Part three

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You could still remember the moment vividly, as if it was engraved in your memory. That moment when the sorting hat placed you in Slytherin instead of Gryffindor like your two older sisters had been sorted. You could still see the look of surprise, concern, horror and then eventually disgust, every time you close your eyes.

“Now we finally know your true colors,” is what your sister Alyssa had hissed coldly at you. You had pleadingly looked at your other sister, but Marla had supported her twin sister, disregarding the confused and scared look in your eleven-year-old eyes.

“Don’t talk to us, don’t look at us and don’t mention us at all,” she sneered down at you and for a moment you wondered how she hadn’t been the one to be sorted into Slytherin instead. But you had cast your eyes down and agreed.

But years passed and you had become the very stereotype of a Slytherin student, completely leaning into the cold, distant, quiet but calculating persona that your sisters had created for you. Might as well, you figured after your parent’s dismay at the revelation of your house.

You were making your way down the corridor, long strides as you passed your sisters while looking them straight in the eye. They grimaced at the sight of you, but without their entire group of classmates, they didn’t dare make any comments. A feeling of victory erupted inside of you, and you couldn’t help the small smirk that crept up your face.

“What poor soul suffered for you to look so satisfied?” You turned your head to look at the person who called out to you. James Potter and Sirius Black were both leaning against a statue in the open yard. “Did you get rid of Regulus or something?” Sirius taunted. “Finally had enough of him following you around, did you L/N?”

“Go die in a ditch, Sirius,” you retorted with an eye roll, but seemed unphased.

“Why so much hostility,” James unpleasantly remarked, and you halted in your step. “10 points from Gryffindor for loitering,” you pettily decided.

“If you have nothing to do, other than insulting students, I would love to recommend you to Professor McGonagall for detention. Heard she was still looking for the person who made all the pumpkins explode last week during Halloween, and you guys are terrible at getting rid of the evidence.” With a last glance up and down, you continued your way towards the room of requirement.

When you entered the sober room with a sigh, you noticed the small scrolled up piece of parchment in the middle of the room. You frowned. This was your space. The room didn’t open this space for anyone else, you made it specifically as a safe haven.

You cautiously approached the parchment and rolled it open to reveal nothing. It was completely blank. You shrugged. If the room left this here, it was meant for you, and so you took a seat and started drawing on it.

James sat in an empty room, his invisibility cloak hiding him from plain sight as he pulled the now folded paper from his back pocket. He inspected it closely, almost pressing the paper to his glasses in a curious manner. He had gone to the Room of Requirements earlier that day and found a piece of paper floating in the air.

James unfolded the paper, and his eyebrows flew up. Lines were appearing on the paper by itself, and a beautiful portrait of a weeping willow with a girl, crying on a bench under the tree appeared.

James fumbled to find his quill and ink. Then he started to write something on it, in a handwriting that he only ever used for written exams. Credits to Professor McGonagall, who had announced that she would not be grading anything she couldn’t read. And she had looked over her glasses at him while she said it.

It’s beautiful.

You dropped the parchment at the words that formed right under your drawing. You traced it with your fingers. Then you decided to write back.

Thank you, I’ve been dreaming about this for the past two days.

You frowned at yourself, unsure why you would disclose such information, but figured no one would be able to trace this back to you anyway.

James blinked at the response he got, mouth open in surprise. He wasn’t sure why he was so surprised. It must simply be a spell of some sort after all. He stared at the sad drawing and the sentence, and then he made up his mind, writing back.

It must be lonely for that girl to cry by herself under the weeping willow.

Your eyes followed the words that formed in a trance.

If she ever feels lonely again, she can always pour her heart out on this parchment. I’ll be the mighty guardian wizard that will make all her worries magically disappear.

A grateful smile made its way up your face and when you scribbled back a response, James couldn’t help but smile as well.

Maybe she will.

You doodled a wizard sitting on the bench next to the crying girl, a consoling hand stretched out.

That's how you became James’ best kept secret. He learned that you were indeed a student at Hogwarts, but that you felt lonely. That you enjoyed butterbeer, but never got to enjoy it on a Hogsmeade outing with friends, because you rarely had any. He learned that you felt inferior to your siblings and a disappointment to your parents. He noticed how you would draw a circle as the dot on your ‘i’ and learned, when he asked, that you did that because you had once seen Professor McGonagall do that when you were in your first year, and had practiced mimicking her handwriting, should it ever come in handy.

In return, he had told you that he felt pressured by the reputation that he had to maintain. He loved Quidditch and absolutely despised Ancient Runes, to which you had replied, “who doesn’t?”. He told you that he had illegally learned to become an Animagus, a stag, and that he wasn’t sure yet what the future would hold for him. He even revealed to you that he desperately wants to protect his friends and sometimes had nightmares, which usually resulted in a sneak around the castle at midnight. When you had asked him if he’d ever been caught, he responded with, “never”, and had explained to you that he had an invisibility cloak.

Two months passed and before you knew it, you were explaining Transfiguration through the enchanted parchment. You did conclude from this that your pen pal was most likely in a year or two higher than yourself but decided not to comment on it. James on the other hand, was under the assumption that you must be from his year, as you managed to help him study for his exams.

But now, it was almost 12 o’clock midnight, and James chewed his lip while he looked at the parchment. He hesitated for a moment. Then he decided to ask you the one question he had been yearning to know the answer to.

Who are you?

You looked at the paper sadly, and sighed.

You’d be disappointed.

I understand if you don’t want to reveal yourself. But know that I could never be disappointed by you, Willow.

James sighed when you didn’t answer anymore. He waved away the light that emitted from the tip of his wand and took his glasses off. He went to put the parchment under his pillow as usual, when he saw the scribbling movement that he’d gotten so accustomed to.

He scrambled to grab his wand to shed light on the paper but accidentally nudged them off the nightstand and onto the floor, where it rolled under his bed. James’ eyes flickered back to the paper in his hand, and he managed to catch the first letter of your name as it was written in capital letters.

But your cursive handwriting, the dark and lack of glasses made it impossible to read the rest of your name. When he finally reached his wand and put on his glasses, he heard the clock strike twelve and he cursed as he grasped the parchment tightly, hurried ‘lumos’ and saw that the parchment had reset itself to a blank page again, just as every night at 12 o’clock at midnight.

Wait, please! I didn’t catch it before it erased itself. Please write it again?

You let out a sigh in relief after you had internally bashed your head against a wall.

No, it was stupid of me. I’m glad you didn’t see it.

You leaned back into your armchair with a racing heart. You couldn’t believe you had done that.

“Regulus,” you acknowledged as you pulled the chair back to sit next to him in the library. “Y/N,” Regulus quietly responded without looking up from his book, and if you didn’t know any better, his straight face would indicate annoyance. Luckily, you did know better.

“You smile any brighter, the sorting hat will transfer you to Hufflepuff, you know,” you teased him.

His face distorted in a grimace and without missing a beat, he replied, “do kill me before such a thing occurs.” You shook your head and finally sat down. Then you pursed your lips in thought.

“You know how I’ve been working all summer to earn galleons?”

“No.”

“Well I did.”

“So it seems.”

“Anyway, I rented a small flat,” you blurted out. Regulus finally looked up at you, surprise almost evident on his face. Then again, you didn’t have the most amazing home situation either. You often opted to stay behind at Hogwarts for the holidays. It is how you two had befriended each other, especially ever since Sirius left him to his own devices at home. Parents, it was a trauma bonding thing.

“Congratulations,” he nodded, his voice trailed off as he tried to see how this would concern him.

“So I thought you might want to stay with me over the Christmas holidays? Your mother doesn’t hate me, so I thought it might be possible. Gives you a chance to get out once in a while.” You tentatively brought up the sensitive subject.

“And what makes you think living with you will be any more bearable than living in my own mansion?” Regulus snarkily remarked.

You squinted your eyes at him in a scowl. “A simple ‘no’ would suffice don’t you think?”

“Do I have to pay rent?”

“Depends on whether or not the answer impacts your decision.”

“So not then.”

You huffed.

“Fine, I suppose I could join you in your small flat.”

“Merlin, don’t go doing me any favors Reg, I wouldn’t want to owe you.”

Regulus shook his head in amusement.

Satisfied with your rather successful attempt to invite him over, you got up. The chair you sat on screeched loudly as it was being pushed back. You could feel the librarian’s furious eyes on your back and rolled your eyes at her as you made your way to the door. “Alright, alright, I’m leaving,” you waved your hand in the air and exited the room.

You made it approximately two steps when you spotted your sisters again. “Of course you would cause a disturbance in the library,” Marla spat at you. You raised your eyebrows but remained unimpressed.

“I see you’ve got your buddies to back you up now?” you commented and tilted your chin slightly upwards. Your eyes flickered to your other sister, their closest friends, and the marauders.

For a moment, you considered walking away, but there was just something about that twitching lip of your sister that had you irked.

You stepped forward, narrowing the gap between you and your sister. You leaned in slightly and then, “Boo.”

It took your other sister, Alyssa about one second to have her wand pulled out and pointed at your throat.

James watched the interaction with a small frown on his face. He didn’t really speak with the fellow Gryffindor twins, but their friends and Lily were friends, so the marauders had joined them on their way towards the courtyard.

His mind flickered to a conversation he had had with ‘Willow’ about her sisters, and he wondered if you felt the same sadness and inferiority as his pen pal. And with that in mind, he pulled Alyssa back by her robe with one harm, the other lowering her raised wand.

“Let’s not,” he shrugged, when she raised her brows in question at him.

“She clearly threatened my sister,” Alyssa defended.

You scoffed at that. “I said ‘boo’. That’s hardly a threat,” you rolled your eyes and glanced at James who tried to offer you something that resembled a smile.

Was he mocking you? “Fancy yourself a hero, don’t you, Potter.”

“Hey, I was just trying to help,” he raised his hands in defense.

“Cause you’re such a good soul,” you sarcastically remarked.

“Yeah, actually. At least better than you. That hostility is so uncalled for,” Sirius mumbled under his breath, and you shot him a glare. “Right, better than me. Let me ask the two-dozen tormented Slytherin students you’ve bullied this past year. Bet Snape will buy your self-proclaimed ‘kindness’.”

You were already walking away when Sirius opened his mouth to call something out to you, but James kicked his shins in attempt to shut him up. Your words resonated in his mind.

Maybe he was a twat.

Am I a twat?

What the bloody hell are you on about?

Someone called me a twat today. Now that wasn’t necessarily true, but the implications were there.

Did you deserve it?

Sort of.

Sort of?

I mean, I am only an asshole to people who are assholes themselves and deserve it. But I guess that makes me an asshole too.

You hesitated for a moment and decided to write your opinion on the matter.

Maybe you being an asshole to people makes them assholes. And then it becomes a vicious circle. Self-fulfilling prophecy and all that bogger.

You reckon?

Wouldn’t have written it down if I didn’t.

On a brighter note, do you have a date for the Yule ball after the exams?

If you’re asking me out, I already promised my friend that we’d go together.

Oh right. But would you save me a dance? Maybe at midnight under the main crystal chandelier?

James bit his lip again in suspense. The Yule ball is a masked ball anyways, if you don’t want to reveal yourself.

Midnight, main crystal chandelier. You decided to leave it at that. Besides. You could enchant the mask a little extra, so you’d be even more unrecognizable. You wondered who would be behind the kind words of the parchment.

It felt strange to you. Really looking forward to something to the point you could feel jitters in your stomach in anticipation. But it was having a certain effect on you that even the younger Black couldn’t help but miss.

Regulus squinted his eyes and moved his jaw in thought. When he had had enough, he pulled you aside.

“Out with it.”

You deflated. You knew that he knew what he was talking about, so you shrugged. “Someone asked me to save a dance next week,” you mumbled.

“And you want to?” Regulus’ tone shifted to an incredulous one.

“I found an enchanted parchment in the room of requirements and it’s connected. I’ve been using it to have conversations with a mystery person.”

It felt great to be able to share this with your friend and you leaned against the wall behind you. “So yeah.” You finished the confession with an awkward hand gesture.

Regulus took a moment to register what you said. And then, as if it was the most normal thing ever, he responded with, “I see. And you have no idea who?”

You let yourself slide down the wall and tiredly put your head on your propped up knees. “Probably a Gryffindor.”

Regulus started laughing. You snapped your head up and scowled at him, not that he was used to anything else from you.

“As long as it’s not a mudbl-“

You kicked his legs and made him lose his balance. You shot him a warning glance. “You know my opinion on that.”

Regulus sighed. You had once confided in him about your home situation, including that time when you had overheard your parents argue when you came home for the first time after having been sorted into Slytherin. Your father had addressed the matter as soon as you walked through the door.

“You’re no daughter of mine.” He had said with disapproval in his voice. It wasn’t meant as a figurative insult. It was a statement. Your father believed that you could simply not biologically be his daughter. The words had you avert your eyes to the floor in shame.

“My entire bloodline has been sorted into Gryffindor.” He had looked at your mother. “Your family does have Slytherins. She’s most likely the result of your affair with that muggle a decade ago. It is possible.” And just like that, he had practically disowned you.

“Okay,” Regulus relented. “We’ll see who it is next week.”

James was nervously looking around, standing partnerless in the middle of the dancefloor. He had long forgone the mask that he had chosen because it prevented him from using his glasses. He looked at the great clock just above the table with drinks and pulled a hand through his hair.

It was time, so where were you? Hopefully you hadn’t chickened out yet because he was absolutely dying to meet you.

There was just something about you. It sparked something in him that he hadn’t felt since Lily. He’d look forward to your messages all the time. Every morning, he practically jumped up in anticipation and excitement as he reached under his pillow to read your ‘good morning’ message for the day. A smile would pass his lips each time.

James was ripped from his thoughts when a hand was placed on his shoulder blade. It tapped twice. He stopped breathing for a moment before turning around. And then the breath was knocked out of both of you completely.

For two different reasons.

James stared in awe at you. You wore a white and silver dress, covered in diamonds. A delicate white mask covered the upper part of your face, and he stared intently at your eyes, but somehow, he still couldn’t pinpoint who you were.

He could see all of your features clearly, but as if he was in a dream, he somehow couldn’t piece everything together to identify you. A charm, he realized. He was disappointed but shook it off. If you felt insecure, then he wouldn’t push it.

James’ face broke out in a grin, and he stepped forward. He couldn’t help but reach out to your face. But you took a step back. His hand fell and he frowned at your reaction, suddenly scared. He wasn’t wearing a mask after all. Compared to you, he was completely vulnerable.

Before he could say anything, you cut him to it. “No,” you hoarsely managed. “This was a mistake.” You turned around and escaped from the center of the dancefloor. James chased you.

“Wait, please. I’m sorry!” He called out after you.

You slowed your pace when you reached the corner next to the staircase. Then you shook your head with a sight, and you pinched your nose. James could see your furrowed brows.

“You have nothing to be sorry about. But my intention wasn’t to dance with James Potter. It was a mistake. Sorry for wasting your time.”

James shook his head in his turn. “Don’t say that,” his eyes pleaded. “So you know who I am. Am I..” He hesitated. “Am I that bad? I don’t know if you’ve heard any rumors about me, or what made you have a bad impression of me, but I’m the one you’ve been talking to for the past months.” He looked at you desperately. “Give me a chance, please. I only ask for a dance.”

Your eyes flickered over his sad face. You knew James from all the pranks that he did, mostly committed towards your house. You knew him from the banters you had with him, and from crying students that you undid hexes for. You knew him from pushing him out of the way as he purposely blocked your path to throw insults at you.

But you also knew the boy from the enchanted paper. The one who listened to all your worries. Who offered advice and indulged into your hopes and dreams for the future. You knew the boy who confided in you all his deepest secrets and own insecurities. Who made your day and cheered you up with his jokes and positivity.

“I can give you a dance,” you caved, and you offered him your hand, which he scrambled to hold.

James was a fairly decent dance partner, you soon discovered as he guided you with grace. “So I suppose you dance often?”

“I just practiced a lot,” he sheepishly admitted. “I had to impress you somehow, you know. Someone like you had to be crazy out of my league after all.”

Your lips twitched. “I think you’ve got it all backwards, Potter.”

“You know you can call me James, right?”

“Well, James,” you enunciated his name. It felt weird on your tongue. You had only ever spoken his last name in contempt. “I’m not very liked by more than half the students of this castle.” You motioned towards your mask. “Hence the enchantment,” you added halfheartedly.

“You don’t have to tell me who you are,” James immediately assured you, and you did relax at his words. “I’m just really happy that you’re real.”

You let out a laugh. “Why would I not be real?”

“I don’t know,” James whined. “Maybe I was just talking to really sentient paper or something?”

His answer only made you laugh more. James’ grin only spread wider.

“Whoever you are, I wouldn’t judge you,” James added quietly. You watched him silently as you swayed around the room.

“That’d be a first,” you joked sadly, remembering your own family.

“What can I say, I’m just different,” James cheekily winked and then twirled you around.

“We’ll see about that, James. You have the rest of the night to convince me.”

The dance ended and you curtsied to each other, out of breath. “But you’ll have to excuse me while I go find a bench because my feet are killing me. These heels are no joke,” you groaned in pain and sort of started to limp your way back.

James quickly came to support you and held your waist as he escorted you back to the side of the room. When you discovered that there were not in fact any benches, you sat down on the first few steps of the staircase. He raised his eyebrows when you kicked off your heels and saw that the entire slipper was made of glass.

“I transfigured those shoes myself, you know,” you proudly stated. James looked at it in disbelief. “This can carry a human weight?”

“Yeah, it took a lot of different enchantments and attempts,” you admitted.

James’ disbelief changed to awe. He took a seat next to you and you two started chatting about random things. You looked at James’ profile as he talked about Quidditch and felt soft towards him. Maybe he really wasn’t so bad after all.

The two of you were deep into a conversation when you were interrupted .

“Who is this, Prongs?” Sirius curiously stepped forward and shook your hand. You couldn’t help but grimace at him.

You politely nodded and explained the situation, but even though you engaged into a civil, nonchalant conversation, you couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable at the presence of James’ friends.

“Anyways,” Sirius leans in towards James. “Did you see Snape over there?” He nodded his head towards Snape, and you squinted your eyes at the boy in front of you.

“You’re not thinking of doing anything to him, are you,” you sharply asked. Both James and Sirius were taken aback by your new tone.

“Nothing harmful,” Sirius laughed, but it faded when you simply raised your eyebrows at him. Sirius looked towards James for help. James hesitated. He had been reluctant to indulge Sirius’ ideas ever since his conversation with you about being a twat. But Sirius was his friend.

“We’re just having a bit of fun,” James tried to explain. “We’re just joking around, besides, he’s in Slytherin, so definitely a blood supremacist.” Your face fell at his words.

You watched his features contort in disgust and suddenly you were eleven again, and all you could see was your sisters disgusted face.

By the time you had snapped out of it, Sirius was already making his way towards Snape. James had gotten up and his head flickered between you and his friend.

You got up as well.

“I really thought you’d be different, James.” You scoffed to yourself. “You really had me convinced there for a moment. But I understand that you’re really just a bully after all, blinded by prejudice. You really are a twat.”

James’ heart dropped at hearing you say those words. He felt ashamed and shook his head pleadingly as he searched for words. But the thing is, you couldn’t care less, because you were hurt too. So you turned around and fled up the stairs as fast as you could, just in case he would come after you.

“Hey Prongs, you coming or not?” Sirius called out. James looked back at Sirius as he contemplated his next move. He mouthed ‘no’, and then tried to run after you. But by the time he reached the hallway that you had disappeared to, you were nowhere in sight.

In denial, James ran towards the moving staircases and looked up, in hopes to find you there.

Had he looked down, maybe he would have caught the last shimmer of reflection of the diamonds on your dress.

James refused to give up, however and he started to knock on the paintings, hoping that they could tell him where you went. He just had to apologize.

A symphony of protests and yelling echoed within the hall. “Quiet you!” “Have you no respect for the sleeping?” “I will complain to Filch about this, young man!” “Leave us alone!”

When the voices resided, most portraits were empty, their contents having escaped elsewhere.

Defeated, James groaned and hit his head with his fists. “You stupid git!” he yelled out in frustration at himself. James slouched down to sit on the stairs. Then he reached for the parchment and a pen in the inner pocket of his jacket and started scrambling something down.

“Please answer,” he whispered. He almost had to laugh at how pathetic he must look.

You sat on your bed after having made your way to the Slytherin dorms.

I’m sorry. You’re right, I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t know why I said that. I’m stupid and I ruined everything. Please let me make it up to you. I enjoy being with you, I don’t want you to think of me like this.

 Like I said before, this was clearly a mistake.

James read your words over and over again and he buried his face in his hands in shame. He stayed there for a long while and by the time he returned to the room, the party was over, and people had started returning to bed. On the left side of the staircase were your enchanted glass slippers precisely where you’d kicked the off and left them.

Preview of part two

Part two

Taglist:

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@charlie-weasley-is-underrated @dreamingofmarauders @moonyslibrary98 @wildernessflora @hollandweather @queerqueenlynn @locklyebrainrot @thisrandombitch @grac3aph3lion @earfquak3 @venomsvl @middle-of-the-earth @shrekscrustybudassy @bettytaylorversion @littlepoisonmushroom @faumpje @iloveutwice @katelebate @moonysupremacy01 @marina468 @fangirl-kimora @bellesowl @badasswlthafatass @sjprongs @armydrcamers @its-a-ittle-bit-cold @ireallywannasleep127 @sayukoi @jsjcue @cashtons-wife @idllyastuff @severegiantjudgefriend @ivy-34 @moonyunebi @caspianobsessed @kquil @moonys-luvr @mindflay3r @nokkoongie

[woso-dreamzzz]

Mignon's Halloween

Barcelona Femení x Teen!Reader

Summary: The eleventh of my Halloween-centric fics

It's Jana that finds the headline first. It's Jana who opens her phone one day on camp to see it trending.

'Barcelona Superstar to Return to her Childhood Club?'

With her contract running out in the summer, question marks over whether young French star y/n l/n will stay at Barcelona remain but eagle eyed fans think they've solved the mystery.

In a recent TikTok posted on her girlfriend's account, the young star seems to have been pictured wearing her old Olympique Lyonnais jersey.

Click Read More below to see what our experts think of this startling discovery:

It's Jana that slides her phone over to Alexia at breakfast. It's Jana who has to explain that the site looks kind of sketchy and it likely isn't true.

But then you start posting things while you're away on camp with France.

Most of it is harmless stuff. The kind of stuff Alexia expects from a teenager back in their home country - a few harmless pranks on your teammates, a picture of you and your parents, a cute video of you kissing your girlfriend's cheek.

But then there's a random selfie of you in your childhood bedroom.

You're relaxed back on your pillows, your family dog laying on your chest.

His snout is covering the emblem over your heart but Alexia can recognise a Lyon jersey anywhere.

That's when she gets a bit worried.

You left Lyon because you wanted game time they wouldn't give you. You'd pushed a bit too hard for game time and they'd told you they weren't going to renew your contract.

Surely you wouldn't go back to them now.

Surely even if they begged and begged and begged, you'd hold yourself in a high enough regard that you wouldn't go back to them.

But the Lyon shirt pops up a few more times while you're away.

There's even a video of your girlfriend wearing one of your old jerseys as she walks her own dog.

"Don't tell me you're stalking the girlfriend now," Mapi gripes as Alexia stares down at her phone," The kids can have fun without you hovering over them."

"I'm not stalking anyone!"

"You haven't even met her girlfriend yet you follow her on every bit of social media you can find her on."

"That's for safety. I'm making sure she's a good one."

"I think y/n is capable of choosing her own girlfriend."

Alexia makes a face and Mapi corrects herself.

"I think y/n's parents are capable of approving a good girlfriend. Don't be so worried."

"That's not what I'm worried about," Alexia mutters, looking up from her phone when you finally walk in with Vicky.

The both of you are speaking in hushed whispers, giggling to yourselves until you both split off to go to your own cubbies.

Back when Lucy still played with the team, your cubby used to be next to hers but now that she's gone back to England, you've been moved next to Alexia so she can keep an eye on you.

"So," She says, trying to be as casual as she can," How was camp?"

You give her an odd look. "Yeah it was alright. But you know that already. Because you're a stalker."

"Why does everyone think I'm a stalker?!"

"You follow my girlfriend on all your social media. You didn't even create a fake account."

"Fake account? What's that?"

You smile at her, the same smile that Vicky does at camp when Alexia tries to show off one of those dances from TikTok that she knows young people like.

"Don't worry about it." You pull on your training shirt. "Is the Halloween party thing still on for tonight?"

"Yes, why?"

"Just checking. I might be a little late though. I've got a meeting with my agent."

Alexia tries to make it seem like she's not all that interested in it but she isn't quite sure it works. "Oh? What about?"

"Just contract stuff. I'm going to head off with Vicky before training," You say," We're going to see if we can break into the vending machine again."

Normally, Alexia would try to stop you but her eyes catch on the familiar white of the Lyon shirt you have stuffed in your bag.

The sinking feeling in Alexia's chest returns in full force, staying with her for most of the day to the point that she finds herself glancing at you much more than she usually does.

"She's not going to just up and leave," Patri says that evening at the Halloween party," She loves it here."

"She had Lucy here with her," Alexia points out," They spoke French together. None of us speak French. What if she misses speaking French?"

Irene rolls her eyes, slightly preoccupied with making sure that her son isn't eating all of the sweets that Marta has been spoiling him with. "She calls her parents regularly. She calls her girlfriend. And I can speak French. She's not been missing the French language in the slightest."

"But what if-"

"If she's leaving us," Marta says, reaching across the table to give Matteo another skittle," Then it won't be for Lyon."

Alexia finds it kind of hard to believe Marta when she's dressed in an inflatable pig costume.

"She's meeting with her agent and-"

"And she's here," Patri interrupts, chin jerking towards the door that you've just slipped in through.

"She's wearing it!" Alexia hisses, heart thumping in her chest," The Lyon shirt! She's wearing it! This is it. This is it. She's leaving us."

"No way!" Vicky laughs from across the room," You actually did it?"

You grin back at her, showing off your ripped shirt. "I think Laporta thought I was crazy when I pulled out the scissors and the lighter. What do you think? Do I look axe-murderer victim enough?"

"Do you mind if we add blood?" Vicky asks.

"You have fake blood? You should have led with that!"

You and Vicky barely take a moment to look at the congregation of captains at the table before you're pouring blood all over your head and shirt, really rubbing it all over the white fabric.

Alexia's mouth hangs up just as Jana's phone chimes with a notification from the Barcelona Femení account.

Happy Halloween Culers!

FRENCH SUPERSTAR HERE TO STAY! Find out more below!⬇️

[dyns33]

Flufftober 2024 - 29 Eddie Brock / Venom

Y/N had met Vee during a Halloween party.

A little intimidated by the crowd and not knowing anyone, she had stayed in her corner for a good part of it, until this giant with his incredible costume came to talk to her.

It would be a lie to say that she had not found him adorably charming, and she would have liked them to be more than friends, if he had not spent most of the time talking to her about his Eddie.

It was obvious that there was something strong and unique between Vee and this Eddie, even if he did not seem to appreciate him at his true value.

"He never agrees with me… He wants to control everything !" he had sobbed against her shoulder. "He says that I won't even be good at cleaning toilets."

"That's not nice. Maybe this relationship is not very healthy."

"But I love Eddie. He takes care of me and even though he's a stupid loser, he tries a lot. Maybe… Maybe I'm too hard on him."

"It's normal to have expectations from your partner. You need to sit down and communicate, to see what's wrong and find solutions."

"You're right, little morsel ! You're a good friend !"

Obviously very busy, Vee kept in touch with her by calling her almost every night and sending her messages, but never having time to see her.

He used Eddie's phone, while he slept. Before meeting her, Vee had never seen the point of having one, and he contacted her secretly because he found it funny to have a secret all to himself.

"But I'll tell him at some point, because we share everything. We're in symbiosis, we're one."

"That's cute. Do you think he'll be angry ?"

"No. Scared maybe."

"Oh." she wondered. "Is he the jealous type ? He'll be afraid that I'll steal you from him ?"

"I'd rather be afraid that he'll steal you from me, I think he'll love you a lot. And that's why he'll be afraid for you. He'll think I want to eat your brain."

Sometimes she didn't understand everything he said, but she found him funny and considered that he simply had a particular sense of humor.

But after several months of talking to him, he finally ended up running into him while a guy was trying to take her purse in an alley.

Vee jumped from a rooftop, growled at the thief, grabbing him with one hand, before biting his head off. Then he turned to Y/N, smiling.

"Eddie, she's my friend."

"Y/N ?" a voice that seemed to come from inside him asked. "Great, Vee, she's not going to freak out at all because you just killed someone. I already told you to go get some chickens if you were hungry."

"You never let me do anything ! He was mean ! He was attacking my Y/N !"

"Let me talk to her, okay ? So I don't traumatize her more than necessary."

In the end, Venom was an alien, and Eddie his host, a man not as horrible as she had imagined, simply trying to keep his symbiote from doing too much mischief so that they wouldn't be spotted by the government.

They fought often but they couldn't live without each other. Literally for Venom, even if they also loved each other too much to want to be apart.

As he had expected, the human had panicked a bit when he learned that he had a friend, that she didn't really know what he was, and that they were therefore putting her in danger just by talking to her. But Eddie had understood that she was important. He had felt it.

When Vee said that they shared everything, he was dead serious.

"I showed him a picture of you. He got an erection."

"Vee !" Eddie shouted, trying to silence the head floating next to his shoulder. "Shut up ! Those are not things to say ! Excuse him."

"Why ? I like Y/N, and you like her too, and she likes us. Her pheromones don't lie."

"Vee ! You're making everyone uncomfortable, stop."

"See ? He never agrees, he controls everything."

Y/N saw clearly, now understanding many things that had seemed a bit strange to her. She could have run away, but despite this surprising discovery, she really liked Vee, and Eddie seemed as charming as he was.

So she suggested that they spend the next Halloween, all together this time.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

hello hello!! :D

So, I was just re-reading book 7 (especially the parts where Maleonor appeared) and something really irked me abt this part. We all know Yuu is not afraid to say when someone does/says something wrong, so why didn't they do anything abt her huge hatred against humans? Obviosuly not every human is bad and I feel like they would try to atleast explain that to her.

Especially Yuu just excusing/ignoring her rude behaviour towards HER OWN GUARDS seemed unrealistic to me. I know that the princess is a huge deal, but back in book 1 Riddle was a huge deal too and they still didn't back down.

I might sound silly here but I would like to know your thoughts !! :D

Mmmm 🤔 I think we're remembering very different portrayals of Yuu, if that makes sense?? The way you're describing Yuu's behavior in the main story, it makes them sound a lot more outspoken, rash, and Ace-like than they actually are. Allow me, if you will, to explain how I see it.

Rather than Yuu saying something when someone does/says something wrong, I think it's more accurate to say Yuu often comments on the things going on around them without being strongly opinionated about them. Instead, they often sound resigned or like they expect chaos to unfold. I would say their most common reaction is just sighing and shrugging while jokingly going, "not this again!" This is especially true in EN, where many of Yuu's localized lines are more self-aware.

In my eyes, Ace is the one who more actively calls out people doing/saying bad things. For example, it is Ace who holds Malleus accountable for his prank in Endless Halloween Night (whereas Yuu was complicit in it). It is also Ace who tells Riddle off for insulting Yuu's parents and how they raised their child, not Yuu standing up for themselves to Riddle. Yuu does also tell Riddle his behavior is out of line and too restrictive, but rarely is this attitude replicated outside of book 1. Yuu might point out the things the Disney villains do in their dreams as "wrong", but that's all in their head. They never actually confront their peers, point at them, and tell them their behavior is immoral. In fact, Yuu doesn't even really call Sebek out for being so loudly anti-human; that responsibility often falls to Lilia or Silver. In book 5, Yuu doesn't strongly question Vil's training methods; it's Deuce who tells Vil he's being too harsh on Epel, and the other VDC Tribe members who complain about Vil changing their diets and lifestyles. Time and time again, it's other characters who are the most brazen and outspoken, not Yuu.

About Maleanor specifically! I actually don't think it's weird or out of character for Yuu to not go out of their way to call out her rudeness. Firstly, as I have already mentioned, Yuu is generally more reserved in their opinions. Secondly, Yuu is presented as a strategist. They are supposed to be more tactful and intelligent than your average student. Now, let's think about this. Maleanor is an extremely long-lived fae, so it is likely that he has held her negative opinions on humans for a while. This princess is dealing with a foreign invasion, humans stealing her land's resources and threatening her and her child's life. She is also known as a powerful and easily angered mage. Presently, she has been shown to be capable of forcing her will upon your body, making you kneel before her. Not only that, but this is a dream. It is not the REAL Maleanor. Do you think, in this very moment, it would be wise for Yuu to talk back to Maleanor? Especially knowing that dying in the dream means Yuu also dies in real life? Do you think lecturing her would realistically get her to reconsider her opinion of humans? I think the answer would be no. Yuu, being the rational strategist of the group, would know better and that it's better for them to be quiet and obey the very scary dragon lady. And, again, they would be aware it is a dream, so telling Maleanor off for her behavior won’t make a significant change irl.

The truth of the matter is that Yuu can't... do or say much??? They're powerless in a school where basically everyone has power over them, so they need to play their cards carefully and watch whose toes they step on. This extends to situations beyond the school too. No matter how "wrong" something is, Yuu would be reckless to throw their life away just to get in a few lines about how racism is bad to someone who wouldn't even spare them an ear. Weighing risk and reward, Yuu gains nothing and loses almost everything by giving their (uncalled for) two cents to Maleanor.

If Ace were there, sure. He might just say something stupid to get them all killed. He had a track record of stating his mind even to highly influential and powerful people. Yuu? No way. They usually play things safe.

[shatcey]

Villain's night

I should probably post about this when this event starts in English, but I might forget, so I'll just re-post it later. This event is Halloween themed, so it'll probably start in about a couple of weeks.

I've read all the stories with at least one ending (I've already finished all the endings), and I wanna warn you just in case. This event is very hot and twisted. What else can you expect if from the very beginning you are told that the cursed abilities are significantly accelerated and the boys literally cannot control themselves.

(17/10/24) Added information about the bitter endings of Jude and Ellis

(21/10/24) The announcement of the event on EN was published. Repost.

Ellis's story begins very sweet and cute. But the closer to the end, the more obvious how much of the yandere he truly is. He'll just tie you up and never let you go. Almost literally. There is no mature content in the bitter ending, but there is a lot of talk… I was surprised how well Kate understood Ellis. It feels like we're already in the middle of his route. He's so clingy here… cute. The premium ending contains descriptions that leave no room for imagination, and a rather dubious consent. However… it doesn't seem so perverse compared to the other two stories.

William's story begins with an absolutely ordinary thematic assignment, but suddenly turns into a bizarre, but at the same time funny scene. Both endings are extremely hot (in a semi-public places). But in the bitter ending, the most interesting part happens under the black screen. In the premium - everything happens before your eyes. And the fact that Willy is true to his desires makes him the most attractive (at least in my eyes). He's acting like a prankster kid here… surprising hello from Clavis. I think this event is even hotter than a drunken one. A completely unexpected discovery.

Jude's story also begins quite normally. But… Alfons and William played quite a big role, and the story took a completely unexpected turn. On the common part of the event where is a disctiption of blood and turture. There is no mature content on bitter ending, again a lot of talk. Unfortunately, I was very sleepy when I read this, so I couldn't pay as much attention to it as possible. But based on that was on Ellis's route… there must have been some hints to Jude's route. The premium ending Kate getting pleasure from pain and humiliation. After all, she's is a masochist. Now I see why the devs said that if we like Jude, then we have terrible taste.

Epilogues are a short versions of the premium endings from HIS POV.

I realized once again that I really like bitter endings. They are more about boys, their past, explaining their thoughts and actions, sometimes even emotions… This enriches our experience and allows us to understand them better.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

🔝 Start page 🔝

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[pianostarinwonderland]

maybe skully isnt dead 🤯 [half copium half srs]

listen. ik ive been on copium for a while. ik we all are, ive seen twitter, tumblr, and everyone’s tags on my posts when they reblog

BUT PLS HEAR ME OUT. IM SO SERIOUS RN WHEN I SAY: if u wanna be technical about it, if u wanna stretch it out somehow, you can argue that the game never outright states that skully is dead, only that the skully we met was from hundreds of years ago.

“but mamsir pianostarinwonderland, how in the fuck can that be???? we HEARD that invisible kiss” LET ME COOKKKKKK 🔥🔥🔥 I SWEAR EVERYONE, I AM COOKING U JUST HAVE TO HEAR ME OUUUUUUUUUUUUUT— knocked out

Ok serious time, let me mansplain to you all the possibility of Skully being alive

Establishing first of all, Twst has kept Skully's nature vague

Simply put: we don't know if Skully is human. In his live 2D, Skully's ears are completely covered. Even in his illustration, we can barely see his ears. It's an interesting design choice. However, in his chibi (which wasn't revealed until Episode 5), we can see his ears aren't shaped like a fae, but are round like that of a human.

However, it's pretty hard to think he's human either, when we consider his "moshi, ne moshi" greeting in Episode 1 and its connection to the supernatural. Voiced, to be noted. Exactly what kind of creature he could be is currently unknown, but because this part was voiced, it's something we need to pay attention to at the very least.

In regards to his mortality, the only clue we're really given is Skully himself saying that he may never meet us except through Halloween, which implies a lifespan similar to a human or something similar. But Skully doesn't know how far into the future that the cast is from. Heck, does he even know of his nature?

Now, addressing that invisible kiss...

I feel like this is the main thing that told all of us that Skully is long gone. Heck, if you catch me in my right mind, I might just tell you that yeah, that should be enough proof that Skully is dead! Little signs from the dead such can manifest in similar ways to what Jamil and Leona sensed: hearing a kiss and feeling a kiss on your hand.

(unfortunately i'm not in my right mind so you're getting my dumb reasons why i'm arguing for otherwise)

However, if Skully is gone, I find it interesting that this is the way they decide to show it. We already know from the very first Halloween event that ghosts can manifest all year round in Night Raven College due to the high concentration of magical power in the area. Outside of that, they cannot be seen. If they really wanted to confirm with the audience that Skully is a ghost, they could have had him appear as such at the end, when they all returned to Night Raven College.

But they chose a scenario where people can draw a lot of conclusions from it: Is their senses getting fucked over as they wake up? Are they still reeling from the magic of the book? (though rationally, we know that Leona is not one to be easily stunned, so the first question is at the very least easy to dismiss)

I've also seen some people theorize that he's using invisibility magic during the invisible kiss scene. And well, while I find that funny, it makes me wonder if he could be some other kind of spirit that's not dead. Like an undead of some sort, which the residents of Halloween Town are. Heck, Azul's card line about Skully talks about how he seems to fit right at home with the Halloween Town residents. Again, we don't know Skully's true nature, but the possibility of him being a species that can turn invisible is interesting.

Moving on, we have what Dire Crowley stated about Skully

At the end of the event, Crowley tells us that he found Skully’s portrait while rummaging through the storage and shows it to us and the 11 boys who went inside the book

What he tells us is that Skully J. Graves is a NRC graduate from hundreds of years ago, before Crowley was Headmage. Note that he only was appointed for the position 100 years ago; the Skully we met is at least from around 200 years ago. During his NRC years, Skully got to share Halloween to NRC. It was a hit, and when he graduated, he spread Halloween all over the world in his travels.

I'd like to take a little detour first to discuss something that's been weighing on my mind: Some people have thought that Crowley is lying to us when he speaks about Skully and his achievements, but... I don't see why he would lie. For one, there is a decent chance that Crowley might not have gotten to see Skully. Even if he did, it's even more unsure if he was involved in Skully's affairs.

However, there's one main reason why I do think that Skully got to live a fulfilling life instead of facing an overblot that killed him or some other tragedy. I'd like to dedicate a longer post to this matter, but to make it concise, I think through Skully, Twst is starting to establish something new regarding their history. I think that historical teachings, folktales and stories, and rumors that are well-known tend to be lies or twisted truths. Whereas those that are obscure and not known are actually what occurred. Skully is called the King of Halloween who's done so much to spread the holiday to the world, yet not even NRC students, who should be the first to know considering that Skully is an alumna, know of him. Although there may be other reasons why that's the case, I like to think that at the very least, Skully's obscurity indicates that he did live the life he wanted and succeeded in working for a future that generations after him can enjoy.

Anyway, that actually isn't the main point of this section of the post, but I kind of want to air that out first. The main point is that Crowley only really said that Skully is a former NRC student from hundreds of years ago who traveled around the world to spread Halloween. But he never told us where he was buried or whether he saw his ghost roaming NRC. He never said anything about Skully being dead.

He probably said the hundreds of years ago bit, carrying the assumption that of course, Skully may have passed away. But we have to remember that we have long-living species in Twisted Wonderland. Fae that were students 200 years ago are very likely to be alive now. Crowley himself is a long-living creature, having been Headmage for 100 years. I think with that in mind, it's important for him to emphasize that Skully's gone if he really is. But he never mentioned it. Therefore, there is a good chance that Skully might just be somewhere else. That or Crowley just doesn't give a fuck where his alumni go, and I might be thinking too deeply about the absence of certain words. Honestly, that's a pretty good chance too.

Lastly, we have the scene where Jack Skellington gets shot down but survives it

Here's where it gets a bit more into speculation, but you're going to have to hear me out.

In the movie, Jack Skellington gets shot down by the military for impersonating Santa Claus. When the Halloween Townspeople watched it, they all despaired, and the mayor started declaring to all that Jack has been blown to smithereens and proclaimed him dead.

But that's not what happened: we find Jack landing on an angel's statue, alive and definitely not blown to smithereens.

And considering that Skully is still very much twisted from Jack Skellington... do you think the writers are pulling a similar move? Making us think that he's dead, just as the townspeople thought he was dead, only for us to learn eventually that he's alive.

This of course depends on what happens eventually in the sequel. From the way things are proceeding, what happened in the Lost in the Book with TNBC is events prior to the movie, and we could very well have the sequel be set during the movie events. (If you ask me, I kind of doubt that actually. I feel like Skellington got inspired by Skully's love for Halloween, enough to stay true to his identity as the Pumpkin King, which would mean the movie wouldn't happen the way we know it. So if anything, I feel like TNBC 2 would focus less on the actual movie and more on the side games where Oogie takes over Halloween Town and even kidnaps Santa and other people, but I admit, that's a stretch, especially considering that we will get Santa giving Halloween Town a taste of Christmas)

Of course, this post is really just to let some of my copium out. Rn, it's still safe to assume that yea, Skully's dead. And though I am coping hard for Skully to be alive, with the way Twst treats the dead, it's not exactly a bad thing. Ghosts continue to stay in NRC like they're living people. They honor the dead, and let the dead live among them. And even if he is in the afterlife and not stuck in the mortal plane, I have faith that Skully did live a fulfilling life that may have been forgotten but clearly changed the world. :'D

[ykiwrite]

the watcher

description: the halloween party could have turned out way worse for tara if it wasn't for you and chad

warnings: alcohol, angst idk to write but good ending tho

words: +1.4k

requested: no i was bored

The alcohol that was running low even on reserves was not doing it anymore for you. Given how many people are at this party, it's not a surprise it went missing so fast.

You sank further into the couch shared with a famous pair, talk of the night. Mindy and Anika who were currently, if you caught it right, talking about already moving out together. They were half drunk so it didn't count but still, drunk words sober thoughts.

You are in no place to judge nor put stereotypes on considering you and Tara are not any different. Both drunk and sober and together. The only contrast was Tara hanging somewhere other than next to you ever since her friend pulled her away.

But that was not the main thing playing in your mind. Not at all really. You have been observing this guy who looked particularly out of place at this party, in this crowd he didn't fit so well like the rest.

Could care less if it wasn't for him desperately trying to achieve something by dancing with every girl there to the point it became scary to watch.

By the looks on the girls' faces, he wasn't that much of a womanizer and prince charmer either. Or just a piece of bad luck on this day for him.

Maybe you're the one looking at it wrong. So riveted with Tara as your ride or die, although you held back from saying it because of the killer-roaming-around situation. Also from Mindy putting you on the suspect list on her weekly "guess the killer" game every time you hang out as a group.

No matter how hard you tried to stray away from judging him by looks you could not help it. He did appear like a piece of work for sure.

A piece of work that was raiding the table covered with empty bottles, knocking some of them in the process. He wasn't anchored on his feet any better either. Just like those bottles.

As he ran his hand through his hair in annoyance, both of your attention was swept away by this certain pirate costume you were assured was half homemade by you and Tara. Your attention was more of a true and fond one than his was.

She seemed to have the same thing in mind which was to grab more drinks but with failure. Her choppy and uncoordinated moves gave it away, she was drunk which made you wary of him.

Mindy's voice half yelling incredibly close to your ear finally tore your eyes off of them.

"You're looking at that guy right?" she randomly said while pointing out. Not hearing what it clearly you leaned in closer signaling her to repeat.

Mindy pointed once again in the same direction that's been a thorn in your side more and more. "Yeah, i heard he's like pretty shitty. Keep an eye out for your girl."

"Wait, you really telling me-" you didn't want it to fly by but Mindy was not listening. Being pulled away by Anika meant there was no room to chase after it.

The fear that kicked in the moment Tara didn't land on your retreating gaze was enough for you to leave the couch and rely on your surprisingly soberish state that probably wore off because of it.

It was no point in searching for Tara as nearly everyone towered over her. While you drove through the sweaty crowd that was all upon eachother, he was the one you were looking for.

To your fault, you did spill a few precious drinks that are currently out of stock in a rush of it all. It earned you a few foes that will forget about it the next hangover day. Hopefully.

Like it was ordered beforehand, the crowd somehow did not seal off the way upstairs where you caught Tara hand in hand with him. The hold itself was more one-sided meanwhile she was being hesitant.

"Tara, we're leaving," you stated loud enough for him to hear. She turned around and looked over the moon to see you. Slipping her hand out of his only to wrap it around you, she mumbled, "Where were youuu?" Dragging the liquored words for too long.

"I don't know what you're on about but come on Tara, let's go." He was making his way down but you stopped him in his place. His obscene gaze lowered to the hand of yours on his chest.

"Yeah, we're going home man. Good luck with that," you laughed foully and fakely while leading Tara away under your hold. Leaving him and his obvious anger issues to fix on their own.

"Hey, come back here you fuc-" and he was silenced all of the sudden.

As you turned the corner, you briskly glanced one last time to witness Chad doing what he knows best before the view was obscured with people again. Besides from him trying and never ending up with Tara in the end, being a bodyguard and lifesaver at the parties was one of them.

Chad was finally useful or something other than wooing Tara. If not her, then someone right now at the party surely will fall for it sooner or later.

The atypical silence New Yorks streets presented this night compared to the party should be heavenly but it's not in none of your minds.

"Are you fucking kidding me Tara?" and if it wasn't for your voice fed with anger, it was your hand ripping out of hers that almost sobered her up in an instant.

Partially aware of what you're so upset about, Tara still pushed it while following behind, "What? What did i do?"

Everything so far seemed innocent in nature from her perspective.

"What did you do? Tara he- do you know how bad this could turn out if i didn't see you two? The things he had on his mind? And with Ghostface around? Tara..."

You finally looked her in the eyes. Tara felt as if the entirety of the drinks she consumed were burning off. She was so used to Sam's overprotectiveness and mistrust that grew higher over the years but you? That keeps her harbored ever since the killings? There's a reason why she turns a deaf ear everytime Sam mentions how therapist would do justice in her life because you do more than enough. The reality you picked, knowing you'll be associated with someone whose entire family is haunted by blood but still love her no less was telling Tara plenty.

She tried to get close if only you didn't flinch back, "What did he even want?"

"He said he got drinks upstairs so i followed him." No reaction coming from you, she knew what you were thinking, "That's all of it, i swear."

"Is it?"

"Yes, i was drunk and i maybe-"

"You weren't that drunk Tara. We were both normal before you left my side for fifteen minutes when everything went down. You knew it."

None of you moved. She could sense how disappointed were you and before allowing you to go anything beyond that emotion, she ran to you. So fast, cutting all chances of your figure stepping back away.

But you caught her. Made her feel safe like you usually do while she can't say the same for herself.

"I'm so sorry," the quivering hands cupped your terrified face, "i promise." She wanted to say more but it dissolved quickly. Putting aside the dark valley of the building your back was suddenly facing, Tara kissed you roughly, desperately. Both due to height difference and the realization of how dangerous things could have turned out.

"Don't do any promises Carpenter," drawing her in once again, "i'm just glad you're safe and Sam is not around to give me a lesson."

The taxi passing behind stirred a thought, "Yeah? Well, she's not back home either until morning. I say we call a cab-"

"Okay, i was about to ask if Tara's good but i see you're both doing great." The voice itself made you look away in a hassle and Tara could read it so well.

"Yeah Chad, we were about to call cab for a ride home but you got keys on yourself?" which made you grin in not the most righteous manner.

"I do actually," as he fiddled with his pocket he continued, "need me to ride?"

"No, we can manage, thanks."

As Tara caught the thrown keys and already turning to leave, you wrapped her arms around and whispered, "We're not really gonna drive all the way?"

"Of course not. Who do you take me as?"

There was sort of pity felt for Chad, left out in the cold like a stray cat but she will remind herself to thank him the next day.

notes: it was a scene with me and tara but they decided to delete it for some reason idk why, apparently chad seemed better option than me

[snikt-and-chimichangas]

🍂🎃 FALL & HALLOWEEN EXTRAVAGANZA! 🎃🍂

Hey hey, you lovely degenerates, it’s ya boi, Deadpool, sliding into your feed like a pumpkin spice latte on a crisp fall morning! (Don’t judge me, Wolverine drinks 'em too. We all know he's a sucker for anything cinnamon-flavored—keeps him warm and fuzzy inside.)

🍂 Soooo guess what? The server’s been cooking up some deliciously spooky fall-themed events, and trust me, you don’t wanna miss what’s creeping around the corner. We’ve already shared some of the tasty details (I know, I know, we're as fast as Quicksilver... wait, no, he's not ours either, ugh). But hold onto your butts, because we've got more goodies bubbling up in the cauldron! 🎃💀

You like trick-or-treating? We’ve got it.

You like creeping through dark, mysterious places like a true anti-hero, looking for trouble? We’ve got that too.

And maybe even a few haunted surprises... 💀👀

We might even force—I mean, politely ask, Wolvie to wear his tiny pumpkin costume again. (But seriously, no selfies this time, guys. The last batch got leaked and, well, let’s just say Wolvie wasn’t amused. He’ll claw ya.)

Want in on all the spooktacular action?👻 Well, here's the trick (or is it a treat?). Slide into our DMs and ask for an invite! We’ve opened up the gates for a hot minute so don’t be sneaky—grab your spot before the witches close the circle.

No broom required, just your charm and maybe a spooky gif or two.

Oh, and one more thing! If you’ve got questions, comments, or just wanna see what flavor of chaos we’re brewing up next, shoot us a message! We may be chaotic, but we’re also here to keep things running smoothly (at least as smoothly as a Deadpool-written announcement allows). We love to hear from ya—unless you’re trolling, in which case we’ll just make you fight Colossus. Good luck with that.

🧛‍♂️🍂 So strap in, buttercup, because it’s about to get wicked up in here!

_ Deadpool (with mandatory supervision of the Mod Team, because apparently, I can't be trusted to run things on my own.🙄)

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Aphelion - 11

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Female Reader, Oberyn Martell x Ellaria Sand

*Please be sure to consider all chapter warnings before reading! Warnings will be updated for each chapter in individual posts as well as on the Masterlist.

Warnings: language, discussion of the past, mentions of violence, blood and death, mention of self-harm, NSFW, vampirism, biting

Word Count: 16,754

Summary: Oberyn has already told you that it's been 400 years since he last used his mark of protection on someone that he cared about, but when you learn why he stopped using it - and how that decision has shaped his life since then - it sheds new light on what it means that he used it on you. And so does what happens after he shares this with you.

The plan for dealing with the Lannisters is in place, and preparations continue throughout the week - until Toban and Tyene surprise you with something unexpected but extremely welcome.

A/N: HAPPY HALLOWEEN FROM @something-tofightfor & I! We hope that your spooky season is full of fun, treats, and just the right amount of scares. We also hope that you all enjoy this mega-packed chapter! This story continues to be so much fun for us to work on, and we're both really excited about this update and what's still to come. Thank you from the bottoms of our hearts to everyone who has interacted with this story - your comments and reactions make us very happy ghouls.

Also, if you have questions about details or plot points or the way that Westerosi history/world fits into the “real” world- please ask! We don’t want to confuse anyone.

Catch up with the Aphelion masterlist here!

(banner by @valkblue )

It took him more than a few seconds to gather his thoughts, but Oberyn’s hold on you never wavered. You stared out and over the city, the lights glittering in the distance, and you let yourself think again about everything that had happened in the previous hours. No, not just hours … days. 

But unlike Oberyn, you didn’t think silently. 

“I’m not sure if you know this, but …” Closing your eyes, you took a long breath. “If it wasn’t for Golden Lion and my job, I’d probably be in some shitty little apartment in the Midwest right now.” He hummed in response but didn’t speak, one of his hands moving slowly back and forth over your stomach. “I knew what I wanted to do with my life when I was a teenager, but I never really thought that I’d get hired by a company like theirs right out of college.” 

“They did something right, at least.” You snorted at his words, his irritation barely masked by amusement. “Was Golden Lion the first place you’ve worked?” 

“It was my first full time adult job, yeah. I did an internship with them my senior year of college and I guess they were impressed, but …” You shrugged. “They had more than 100 candidates apply for three open positions so I figured I’d get a “thanks but no thanks” letter after a few weeks and started applying to museums and historical programs in places like Michigan and Illinois and Ohio. But instead … I got a job offer with a relocation assistance stipend.” 

It had been one of the best days of your life, and even though you’d learned that Golden Lion - and the Lannisters especially - weren’t the people you’d thought they were, your time at the company had been worthwhile. It taught me so much and it brought me here. 

“They do have a knack for recruiting people with talent.” He sighed, lowering his lips to your shoulder again. “It is an annoying thing that has been true since … well, since the beginning.” 

You felt him smiling and you did, too, still staring out into the darkness. “I had a choice between working in New York, London, one of the Westeros office locations, or here.”

“And you chose California.” He kissed the side of your neck, breathing the next words into your ear. “The City of Angels.” You rolled your eyes every time Los Angeles was referred to that way, but when Oberyn said it, it had the opposite effect on you. I am a walking cliche when it comes to him. 

“I did. Westeros was tempting, just because of everything it would have allowed me to see, but I decided it was too far away for something that I didn’t know if I’d get to do for long. In London I would have been in a really small office and that wasn’t appealing. New York was …” You wrinkled your nose, even though he couldn’t see it. Never New York. “But California? I figured that even if the job didn’t work out, I’d have the beach. And then I met Nora and her friends and it turned out I really liked what I did for work - and most of my coworkers.” You spun to face him, finding that you were blinking back tears. 

You knew it was selfish - that after everything the Lannisters had done to the Martells and to the people Oberyn loved, you had no right to be so upset over something as trivial as your job. But it was important to me. It was a huge part of my life. Everything I worked for. 

“And I think that’s what the worst part of this is. Even though there were always ulterior motives to what they had me doing, it was … I liked it. I liked working for Golden Lion. I learned so much. I met so many people and worked on so many great projects, and …” You glanced up, lips pressed together. “And then I met you, and I realized that I knew so damn much, but I really knew nothing, even after all this time.” 

“Meeting me was the worst part?” He was teasing you, but when you met his eyes you saw concern in them, Oberyn barely concealing a frown as he watched you. “I don’t think that anyone has ever been so bold as to -” That made you laugh, both of your hands coming up to cover your face and wipe some of the tears away. 

“Yes, Oberyn. The worst. I meet an unreasonably hot man that just so happens to be the literal embodiment of every fantasy I’ve ever had in my entire life at a bar. Then two weeks later I’m standing with him on the balcony of a penthouse apartment so fucking nice that I have no business being anywhere near it. Oh, and I’m also wearing a mark of protection from him on my neck that means that he chose me, and -” 

Oberyn moved before you’d even registered it, gathering you in his arms and holding you tight against his chest, face turned down so that he could kiss the top of your head. “I do see how that might be terrible.” Inhaling deeply, you let yourself cry for a few seconds, Oberyn’s arms locked in place. “But you need to look at me.” 

You did, pulling back enough so that you could meet his gaze. The playfulness was still there, but Oberyn’s mood had shifted again, the man mostly serious. “What?” 

“You can’t blame yourself for not knowing the truth. Not many people do. Even those that are like me aren’t … they do not all come from Westeros, or have the same vendettas that we do. And even I have to admit, the things that the Lannisters have done to remain relevant throughout the years … it is impressive. It is even more impressive because like I said, they attract talented people, which means their relevancy lasts.” 

“Yeah, but it’s just … a cover. They used people like me to try and find you, Oberyn. You and your family, and -”

“But think about it.” He loosened his grip on you, taking a half step back and urging you to back up and against the low railing. “How much did you learn? How much did you archive? How much will the records you created teach others? Yes, the end goal was for Lannister benefit, but overall, you’ve done more good for Westeros than you know.” He reached up, fingers curling against your neck so that he could press his thumb to the mark he’d put there. It sent a tingle of heat through you, your lips parting and feet shuffling toward him, both hands rising so that you could grip his shirt. “You know now. And if… when this goes according to plan, I’m sure Tyrion will have no problem getting you back to your position, if that’s what you want. This plan will make him mortal, but getting rid of the rest of the Lannisters puts him at the head of the company by name and lineage, and I do not think that he will mind doing a small favor for me.” 

You hadn’t even thought of that - of the possibility that after everything was done, you could go back. But I’ll need to work. I don’t have thousands of years worth of finances saved somewhere, and I can’t pay my rent here without a job. “We’ll see. We need to get through the next …. When is the wedding again?” 

“The engagement party is next weekend. The wedding follows soon after. They are apparently following the Westerosi custom of the party being used as a lead-in to the main event, but that works in our favor.” 

“Yeah, there’s so much going on no one can have eyes everywhere.” You sighed, closing your eyes. “Thank you for talking me down, Oberyn. I’m sorry I -”

“You never need to apologize to me.” He said your name, the man’s thumb and forefinger tilting your chin up so that you could see his wink. “For anything. I understand what you are going through, and I understand how much your life has changed.” Flattening your hands against his belly, you nodded and then took a deep breath. 

“If you say so. But I need to stop getting sidetracked. We have a lot to talk about and -” You were interrupted by the rumble of your stomach, Oberyn’s eyes immediately dropping at the sound. Shit. Of course he can hear that, he -

“When was the last time you ate?” He tweaked your chin, his smile widening. “It sounds like it’s been a while.” 

“I had some fruit while we talked to Tyrion, but it’s been … hours? Lunch, maybe? I don’t…remember.” You trailed off, frowning. Since the night of the Halloween party, your dining habits had been less than regular. The fact that no one in your company  ate at typical times wasn’t helping, either. “I should have something, though. Or else I won’t be able to sleep tonight.” 

“Stay here.” He nodded twice. “I’ll get you something and then… I’ll tell you about Cameron and Toban.” 

He disappeared back into the apartment, the door closing softly behind him. Once he was gone, you turned back to the railing, gripping it with both hands. You’d wasted time complaining about your job, but not too much, and you knew that even though it was late, there were still hours before sunrise. And he’ll want to stay out here as long as possible. 

Your head swirled with bits of information - what you knew about the Lannisters and the Martells, what you knew about Oberyn and Ellaria’s bond, the vow that Oberyn had made to himself the moment he’d been turned and learned what happened when someone turned others. And you knew that no matter how much time you had to understand it, it would never be enough. Unless that eternity that Toban mentioned is possible. That might be … 

Swiping one hand over your face, you hung your head, opening your eyes so that you could watch the cars on the street far below you. Tyene had offered to change you if you wanted it. Toban’s willingness to step in when necessary had already been tested, but you had a feeling that if he attempted the same thing a second time, even Ellaria’s interference wouldn’t protect him from Oberyn. But I don’t want either of those options. If it’s not Oberyn… it’s no one. 

Linking your fingers together, you stared out and over the city, weight resting on your forearms. Four hundred years is a long time, even for him. And it sounds like Cameron was incredibly important to him but he still wouldn’t … he didn’t even use his mark, he … “It’s late, so I figured you didn’t want anything heavy.” 

Turning at the sound of his voice, you watched as he held up a plate with one hand, a bottle of water held in his curled fingers and a stainless steel bottle tucked under his other arm. “A sandwich? Did you make this? Or was it -”

“I might have been a prince in a past life, and not need to eat in this one, but I know my way around a kitchen.” He grinned as he set everything down on the small table before unfolding the blanket laying atop the outdoor couch. “Come here.” 

You did, stepping in front of him - and when Oberyn draped the material over your shoulders, he used the ends of the blanket to pull you closer, ducking his head down to press a kiss to your lips. That kiss was longer than the last one on the rooftop, but he still broke it much too quickly, stepping back and gesturing for you to sit. “Thank you for … dinner? A midnight snack? Whatever this is, I’m going to inhale it.” 

“Good.” He sat next to you, rolling the container he held between both of his hands. “I hope it is alright with you if I … also eat.” Your eyes flicked from the sandwich in your hand to the bottle in his, both brows shooting up in understanding. Blood. There’s blood in there, and he didn’t want me to see it while he drank. 

“Of course. Eat.” You took a bite, chewing to give yourself a few extra seconds before speaking again. “Oberyn, you don’t have to worry about that with me. I understand what … you are, and what you need.” Elbowing him, you turned your head to look at the man. “And I’ve already seen you at your worst with Clegane, right? So it -”

“That wasn’t anywhere near my worst.” Flipping the straw up on his bottle, Oberyn sipped from it, staring straight ahead. “But yes, you have briefly seen the worst parts of me.” Your stomach dropped at his words, but part of you wasn’t surprised. He’s been alive for 2,000 years, and he thinks… Oh, Oberyn. “I know that you are expecting to hear about Cameron. But to tell you about Cameron, I need to go back much further.” He sipped again, eyes closing as he swallowed. “To Isabel. To before Isabel. I need to tell you why I stopped offering my protection to the humans I cared for.” 

His voice changed as he spoke the woman’s name, and it only took moments for you to figure out who she was. But instead of interrupting, you continued to eat your sandwich, scooting marginally closer to him while you chewed. It took a few seconds, but Oberyn laid an arm over your shoulders, his fingers closing around the far one and squeezing. I’m listening, Oberyn. 

“When Ellaria turned me, I knew that I wouldn’t get my revenge right away. I knew that it could take time, but I never thought … I never thought thousands of years would pass.” He paused, head shaking from side to side slowly. “The longer I waited, the more I needed to do to fill my days. By the time I was given the sunlight again, Ellaria and I were far from Westeros. My immediate relatives were long gone, and there was no sign of the right Lannisters. She took me to Greece and within a year I… we met someone.” 

You weren’t surprised - Oberyn’s magnetism had been well documented in all of the ancient texts that you’d seen, and you imagined that given the opportunity to meet new people in new places, it hadn’t been any different. 

“But it was short lived, because… I wasn’t careful enough. Her association with Ellaria and I put a target on her head, and she was … she was killed because of it. She was killed and we had to leave, and it was only then that Ellaria explained the process of marking someone for safety.”

“Oh, Oberyn.” Wincing, you reached over and squeezed his knee. “I’m so sorry.” He lost someone else, almost right away. I can’t… 

“I was too. And from there …” He laughed, but the sound was sad. “From there, I admit that I treated offering my mark in the same way I lived as a man - in excess. Even Ellaria questioned me at times, but it was the way I coped. I could not have the revenge I wanted, and losing more people that I cared about was not an option. So for a few hundred years, I … marked my partners. I kept them close without thinking twice, but I never hesitated to step away from them when it became clear that Cersei and Tywin and the fucking Mountain were back, or when they demanded too much of me.” 

“Oberyn, I …” You didn’t know what else to say - especially since up until that conversation, you’d assumed he’d always been selective about who he offered protection to. But I was wrong. 

“Many of them asked to become like me, and I denied all of them - most of them without explanation.” He took another drink, pausing before he set the bottle down on the table. “Losing them of natural causes became almost routine for me. Eight. Ten. Twelve. It was not easy to say goodbye, but I was not heartbroken in the same way I was when the first was taken. Finally, Ellaria pulled me aside, and she let me know what she thought.” 

“What did she think?” Curling your legs beneath you, you leaned against Oberyn’s side. “It doesn’t seem like she would have said anything unless she felt strongly about it.”

“You are correct.” Glancing up, you saw that he was smiling - that expression a fonder one. “She told me that the mark was meant to be a symbol of honor, and an indication that the person who wore it was special. She said she’d never try to tell me how to live my second life, but that unless I used that ability with some discretion, it was … meaningless. That in our community, the mark had come to symbolize intent, and I was treating it like giving someone a worthless trinket. I hadn’t ever thought of it that way.” 

“Were you two together all that time? I know that Makers don’t always stay with their Children, but you and Ellaria are … different.” 

“No. She stayed with me for a long time, but once she was certain I would be alright on my own, we separated. We’d see each other … well, to us, it was frequently, but to you, it probably isn’t.” He started moving his hand up and down on your arm, Oberyn shifting so that you could move even closer. “She made a special trip to tell me what she thought about me using my mark, though. And afterward … I slowed down. I slowed down and I realized that there was no point in protecting people in that way. It  was only for my benefit. It didn’t offer them anything in the end.”

Unconsciously, you reached up, touching the space on your neck that bore his sigil. Something changed again. Ellaria and Tyene and Toban’s reactions were real. This isn’t just a mark, it’s… more. 

“It’s not possible for me to be emotionless; I’m sure you know that. But I … stopped letting myself get so attached. I stopped settling in places long term. I kept moving. I focused on my eventual revenge instead of on immediate pleasure, and instead of one or two people a century wearing my mark and knowing what I was, more and more time passed between each one. I kept my own secret, and didn’t linger long enough for people to start asking questions.” 

“You must have been lonely.” Swallowing hard, you closed your eyes. “Even with Ellaria and the Others that you came into contact with, it must have been so hard.” 

“It was. But it got easier each year. The difficult part came when the questions about me making a Child started coming, and I had to explain my reasoning for not turning anyone.” 

“That’s nobody’s business, though.” You rolled your eyes. “It’s like people questioning why someone like me isn’t trying to have a baby, or hinting that time is running out, or making the assumption that you can’t be happy unless you’re a parent. That’s a personal choice, Oberyn, and even though I’m kind of relieved to know it isn’t just humans who think that’s their business, it’s still awful of them to question you like that.” 

“The thing is, that my reason for not turning anyone is … hypothetical. Yes, most of us pass our strongest traits on when we change someone, but it isn’t set in stone that it happens.” He removed his arm from around you and then leaned forward, picking up the thermos  again and taking a long pull from it. You caught a whiff of copper, biting your lip at the scent, but before you could say anything, he continued. “Even Ellaria started to hint that there would be nothing wrong with me changing someone and potentially passing something along, but she never pushed. And after those conversations - after seeing her and Toban and meeting others like us and their first Children, I began to see the appeal… and I started using my mark again. Sparingly, but … just in case. Just to let everyone know that someone was off limits.” 

“But you never acted.” He flipped the straw down and let the bottle go, leaning back. “Even though you were close.” 

“I was.” He sighed. “Sort of.” Without warning, Oberyn pulled you onto his lap, strong arms holding you against his chest though you were still wrapped in the blanket. “I met Isabel while I waited for Ellaria to arrive for a visit, and there was … something about her. A connection between us that was immediate. I fell for her and offered her my protection. She accepted, and asked if … if it was possible that we could be together forever.” 

“You considered it.” You looked up at him, watching as Oberyn nodded slowly. “Because if Ellaria thought you were going to choose between Tyene and Isabel, you must have been much closer than before.” 

“I was.” He met your gaze then, the line between his brows deep as he frowned. “But I made the mistake of telling her that it was in fact a possibility, and she … assumed.” Oh, no. “And with that assumption, our relationship changed. I loved her. The idea of … forever with her was not unappealing, but …” 

“She thought a maybe was a definitely.” He nodded again and then winced when he looked away, like he was remembering actually living the experience. “Did she know about your past? About the Lannisters and your family?” 

“She did. And at first, she told me that she understood my need for vengeance, even though she hadn’t ever seen or heard of the Lannisters before me. But as more time passed, I think … it became clear to her just how focused on that goal I was. I spent as much time with her as I could, but I was also with Ellaria and Tyene, making plans. It had been a long time since Cersei and Tywin had shown their faces so we thought it was probably coming. And when I reminded Isabel that there was a chance that I would turn her and our time together would be short because I did what needed to be done and did not survive, she …” 

He lifted a hand a rubbed slowly at his jaw, still staring out at the city. You’d thought that Oberyn’s reasons for not turning the woman had been simple, but the previous few minutes had proven otherwise. And I think it’s going to get worse. 

“She did not take it well. She said that Ellaria encouraging my revenge quest for over a thousand years was not a good idea. She said that if I kept it up, I would only do more harm to myself and the people I cared about. She said that once I turned her, I would understand that there was more to my life than the need to remove the Lannisters from the world. And that was … the last thing I needed to hear. Especially since Ellaria had been the one encouraging me to make an offer to Isabel in the first place.” 

“I’ve said a lot of stupid things in my life, Oberyn, but none of them have been as stupid as telling you Ellaria was a bad influence on you.” He smiled at that but it was still sad, his hold on you tightening. “That wouldn’t have been a good start to Isabel’s new life.”

“No. And as much as I loved her, Ellaria’s presence was … is… always going to factor into my decisions. I will never compromise on that, no matter how many years I walk this Earth, or who I choose to have beside me.” And you shouldn’t have to. Ellaria isn’t just your Maker. She’s … everything to you. “Isabel didn’t take that well, and she definitely didn’t take me telling her that I’d chosen not to turn her because of her feelings about Ellaria well, either.” 

He stopped speaking, and you watched the emotions pass across his features, his face more expressive than you’d ever seen it before. He tightened his jaw and then loosened it before finally looking down at you with another frown on his face that sent a shallow ache through your chest. “Are you -”

“Give me a second. This is not easy for me.” He closed his eyes and then turned toward you, kissing you on the forehead and lingering there. “I left her and went back to Ellaria and Tyene full time. I refused to turn Tyene because that girl deserved better than to be someone’s second choice, and Ellaria was far more equipped to handle her transformation than I was.” He spoke without pulling back, his lips brushing over your skin with each word. “But curiosity got the better of me, and after a little while, I went back to check in on Isabel, and she …” 

You felt it before you saw it - the warmth of Oberyn’s tears falling against your skin. Without thinking twice, you slipped an arm around his back and the other under his shoulder, turning your head so that you could press your cheek to his chest. Whatever he’s going to say next is going to be awful. 

“She cut my mark from her skin.”

You closed your eyes as the ache in your heart deepened. Without realizing it, you tightened your hold on him, fingers digging into his skin. You were expecting it to be bad given the way he was struggling to get through this part of the story. But that’s horrible. I can’t even imagine… 

Your thoughts trailed off as he continued. “She said if I wouldn’t choose her, she didn’t want the safety my mark brought her. Since she could not see it, she… What she did to herself, it… her arm was … mutilated. The wound … it … it became infected, and the infection spread. She refused to let me do anything about it.” He paused again, and when he spoke, you heard the tremble in his voice. “She was too weak to get out of bed, but she was strong enough to tell me that all she’d done was make sure that I didn’t have to wait around for years to watch her die of old age since I wouldn’t give her a forever.” 

“Oh, Oberyn.” Your blood ran cold at his words, and you knew that he’d heard your sharp intake of breath. “That’s… how could someone do that to you?” You knew that he’d loved the woman, but you thought she’d been selfish - especially when it came to Ellaria. And if she knew what avenging his family meant, she just tried to manipulate him. And that’s even worse. 

“I don’t know. But she did die, and despite what she’d done, it … hurt to lose her. Before you, she was the last person I placed under my protection.” He sniffed, saying your name. “For four hundred years, there hasn’t been anyone else I have wanted to protect. Not even Cameron. Not even when I knew his life was in danger. Because the memory of Isabel - and what she believed that mark would eventually mean was so strong.” 

He used one hand to ease your head away from his chest, tilting it to the side so that he could stare at the skin of your throat, leaving you to wonder at his thoughts. Do you regret it? Do you wish you’d asked? Do you wish you’d waited?

“Our marks of protection are all slightly different, but they all require …” He smiled briefly, raising his thumb so that the ring caught some of the light. “The right components.” You’d wanted to ask about the process but didn’t know how - especially since you didn’t have a clue where to start, so you were glad that he brought it up on his own. “It can be made from any metal, but most of us that are … ancient choose gold. It is melted down by an elder, and then some of our blood is added to the molten liquid. Even a few drops are powerful, which is why when I bit you, I pressed the sigil to your skin. I healed the space around it with my tongue, but… the metal itself healed that area… and since the metal bears the spear of House Martell… it remains on your skin, a visible reminder of just how important you are to me.” 

“I wish it was visible for me, especially after seeing Ellaria, Tyene and Toban’s reactions to it.” The words slipped out - and at the realization of their implication, you sat straight up, eyes wide. Oh, no. I didn’t mean to… Especially after what we just talked about. Now he’s going to think - 

“I wish you could see it too. But for right now … you can feel it.” He reached for you again, fingers trailing over your skin and sending heat throughout your body. And when he positioned his hand the same way he had the night he’d marked you, you gasped at the surge of warmth, the corners of his mouth lifting briefly as he gauged your reaction. “I’d almost forgotten what it feels like.” He leaned closer, curling his fingers slightly. “This is a good reminder.” Of what? 

There were plenty of ways to interpret his words, but you chose to take them at face value - that he was simply happy to be around someone that understood the significance of what he’d given them - and didn’t try to take things a step further or ask for clarification. Even though I want to, and he has to know it by now. “I’m glad something good came out of this mess.” Letting the blanket drop, you pulled one hand free, raking your fingers through his hair. “Even something small.” 

“It is not small, believe me.” He let go of your throat, his hand dropping to your shoulder and squeezing. “But I still have not told you about Cameron, and that’s what I promised to do.” 

“We don’t have anywhere to be tomorrow. I can sleep in.” He smiled at that, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “But yes. Tell me about him, please. And maybe something about Toban, too. Because -” 

“Toban means well. He always has. And while I wouldn’t call it jealousy, because it’s clear he would do anything for her, the connection that Ellaria has with him has … started to bother me more as the years pass.” He rolled his eyes. “Our gifts are another thing that isn’t guaranteed, but depending on your lineage, they’re more or less likely. With Ellaria, they are very likely, since she’s one of the first.” 

You’d assumed that to be the case about her age, but with the confirmation, you realized just how special your circumstances  were - and how lucky Oberyn was. Because she barely saved him. And so anyone younger might not have. 

“Ellaria can see the past via touch. Toban’s ability is to read situations and circumstances like no one I have ever met before. Tyene … well, she is able to convince anyone to do just about anything, and doesn’t hesitate to tell you what she thinks about it.” 

You grinned at the admission, lifting a brow. “I’m not surprised by that, especially after the way she greeted me for the first time.” 

He smiled, too, the man nodding. “Her treatment of you is how I knew she accepted you, but I was surprised that she did it as quickly as she did.” 

“I like her, Oberyn. I’m glad that Ellaria turned her. She fits well with the two of you…. And Toban.” Dropping your hands to settle them in your lap, you cocked your head to the side. “What is your gift, though? You must have one, if the three of them do.”

“Nothing as exciting as seeing the past or knowing the future or the power of persuasion.” He sighed, the rise and fall of his chest a strange sight. “My… gift is also somewhat of a curse. The depth of my humanity is what I carry with me, no matter how much I’ve tried to ignore it sometimes. Despite my hesitation when it comes to getting attached, when it happens … I cannot help the way it makes me feel… and act, when the situation calls for it.” 

“How is that a curse?” 

“I haven’t been a human in 2,000 years. At that age, most of us have long since forgotten what it’s like to experience things the same way humans do. But I have never been able to disassociate from that part of myself entirely. I’ve tried to, but it has never worked for long.” He closed his eyes, pausing. “And that brings me to Cameron.” 

“I’m going to stay quiet, Oberyn, and just let you talk. Because if I interrupt, I’ll -” 

“Thank you. There aren’t many that know this full story, so…” He slipped a hand under the blanket and then under your top, his large palm pressed to your side. “That will help.” 

You didn’t know what to expect when it came to the man’s story, but once he started speaking, you were enraptured - and wouldn’t have wanted to interject without his encouragement. 

“Ellaria and I have done many things throughout the years to earn a living, finding ways to adapt to the times at hand and use current events to our advantage. Some of the stories about our kind are true, but there are others that aren’t. For example, some of us are quite persuasive, like Tyene, but we can’t just … bend people’s minds to our will without a second thought. Luckily, by the time I was turned, Ellaria had already amassed quite a fortune that she kept secret. Her name may have been Sand then, yet she was anything but poor. Those funds, along with what I was able to take away from my own family’s vaults throughout the years were more than we needed.” 

He hummed, glancing down at you and then back out at the skyline, and you used the opportunity to take in his profile, parts of his face silhouetted in shadow, though it only made him more appealing. 

“At the time I met Cameron, Ellaria and I were operating a network of Speakeasies on the East Coast. It was good money, easy money. And it was simple for us to attract visitors, because almost everyone was looking for a place to drink and socialize where they could be themselves in every way.” 

You didn’t need clarification on that. When it came to Oberyn, excess was the norm, and he’d never been one to hide his true nature, or his desires. Sex and alcohol and freedom? People must have loved them back then. He stroked over your skin with his fingertips, humming low in his throat before he continued. 

“Cameron was … special. He visited one of our locations in The Bowery, and caught my eye from across the room. I had two beautiful women in my lap and he still devoured me with his gaze as though they were not there at all. His confidence was… alluring. He wasn’t shy about what he wanted, and I liked that. We began a relationship, and I quickly realized that I cared for him, despite promising myself that I would keep things … loose. I did travel a lot, between locations, and Ellaria often filled in in my absence, so he got to know her, too.” 

Oberyn lowered his head and rested it against yours, collecting himself. “Many like us came to America then, to take advantage of the rapidly expanding cities and the nightlife. There was a group - the one Toban told you about? From Braavos? They were also attempting to operate in the same market as we were, and it got … contentious.” 

You weren’t surprised because Toban had given you a heads up, but that didn’t make the story any easier to hear. He’s been through so much. He’s had to adapt over and over and it’s still happening. 

“I wanted to be sure that Cameron was safe, and since he knew what I was, it was a little easier. We trained together. He stayed close to me when I traveled. I told him what to look for when it came to potential attempts on his life. The sell swords attacked one of our clubs one night, burning it to the ground because they thought we were there … and that is when Cameron and I disappeared for a while. We needed to lay low, and it was during that time that he asked me to protect him with my mark. But I was hesitant, and you know why.” 

“I do.” You mumbled the words, agreeing. “And I know how hard it probably still was for you to tell him no.” 

“Punishing Cameron for Isabel’s behavior was unfair of me, and I know it. I knew it then, but that changed nothing. He asked me - repeatedly, why I would not protect him if I claimed to love him. All I could say was that I had never before used the mark as a last resort, and I didn’t want to start with him. There were many Others from Braavos, but they were clumsy, and I thought … I thought my presence would be enough. But Cameron got tired of me telling him no, and so he turned to Toban, who was spending a lot of time with Ellaria then, and one thing led to another.” 

“Would … would the bond he felt with Toban because of the mark have changed if you’d turned him later? How does that work?” 

“I do not know.” He shook his head, the man’s frown deepening. “For many, offering the mark is the precursor to offering them a second life. It is … I don’t think I have ever come across someone that is protected by one and a Child of another. But in Cameron’s case, it wouldn’t have mattered. He grew to resent me in the months following Toban’s decision, and his final request of me was just a last effort to make me choose.” 

“Were he and Toban -” 

“No, they were never together. Not to my knowledge, anyway. Toban marked him because time was running out, and it was either that or watch me lose someone else I cared for before I was ready, because they would have eventually killed him. It was only a matter of time. He turned him because after the mark, the two of them became close, since Cameron wanted less and less to do with me. After your first, it … I’m told that it becomes less likely that the bond is so strong between a Maker and a Child, so to Toban, it was as simple as granting a request. Cameron told me what was happening, and then the two of them left and were out of touch for twenty years.” 

You found it hard to believe that Toban had been out of touch with Ellaria for so long, but stayed quiet, thoughts buzzing in your head. Oberyn’s differing use of his mark of protection through the years was staggering - from overusing it to not using it to choosing to use it sparingly to only offering it when the possibility of forever was on the table, but denying it to someone that was in immediate danger. And then there’s me. How do I factor into this? “You never considered turning Cameron?”

“Not once. I did love him. We were close. He knew me well, and we were happy together, but it wasn’t … I never felt the same as I did with Isabel, and that was a problem for me. He’s happy now, I’ve seen him once since he became one of us, but … the bond between us does not exist anymore. And as upset as I was with Toban at the time, his … interference was for the best. It kept Cameron alive, and it kept me from being forced to make a decision that I would have regretted later.” 

You couldn’t help it - stifling a yawn in the middle of his words, one hand rising to cover your mouth and hide it. Shit. “I’m sorry, Oberyn. It’s just that it’s late, and you’re comfortable, and -”

“It is. And I am.” He laughed quietly, the sound rumbling through his chest. “I am almost done, and then I will take you to bed.” Wait, what? “To sleep,” he clarified, lips finding your temple. “I just need to explain my feelings toward Toban, and then … then you will understand more.” 

“Before you do that, I have something to ask.” Leaning back, you looked up as he stared down at you, the man nodding twice. “Tyene offered to change me if you wouldn’t. Toban said that he was glad things wouldn’t be the same with me as they were with Cameron, and that he looked forward to getting to know me when this was over … why? They’ve known me for a few days, and they’re already acting like I’m going to be around for a long time, and that they want it to happen.” 

“They’re my family. They understand that everything going on right now is … fluid. But the fact that I acted so quickly and definitively with you, despite you being in no danger from any Others … it tells them everything they need to know about my feelings.” It was an answer, but only a partial one - though it would have to be enough. Because there are more important things to worry about. 

“What if there are Others working with the Lannisters that Tyrion doesn’t know about? What if that’s a surprise? What if -”

“That is nothing to worry about. It is a rule set by our Elders that we give the Lannisters nothing. They’ve been trying to figure out how our blood works for centuries, and have offered unbelievable sums of money for assistance. But despite the fact that not all of the Others have a vendetta against them like mine or Ellaria’s, no one is willing to help them, because it means they’d be completely cut off if they lived long enough… and survived my retaliation against them.” 

Toban’s words - no one would dare cross the Red Viper - echoed in your mind, and despite yourself, you shivered. If he has that much power over the entire community, then … then the fact that I’ve been accepted by him means even more than I thought it did. “I’m glad to hear it. And soon, helping the Lannisters won’t be something any of you have to worry about.” 

“No, it won’t be.” He hummed and then squinted, though you knew that his vision was perfect. “The sun will start to rise in about 40 minutes, so I’m going to make this quick.” Quietly encouraging him to continue, you squeezed his bicep. “I have denied myself very little in my first life… or in this life. But I am consciously denying myself the connection that we have with our first. Over and over, I have had the opportunity to choose someone to fill that role, and I have walked away every time. Toban was Ellaria’s first, and the bond they have … as much as I want to experience that, it hasn’t ever felt right.  She turned him with nothing but love for him in her heart, and I … I’ve already told you what I feel. The hate. The rage. The sadness. They are not all I feel, but they are always there, like a shadow. Making someone an offer of eternal life shouldn’t come with the burden of those things.” 

No, it shouldn’t. “Only you can decide what the right time is, or who the right person is, Oberyn. And you told me the other night that once this is over? You might be able to make that offer to someone. I want that for you. And whoever it is is going to be the luckiest person in the world, because you -” 

“No.” Using one hand, he turned your face toward his, the corners of his mouth lifting in a tiny smile. “I will be the luckiest man on this planet if they say yes.” Oberyn kissed you softly, his lips parted so that your lower one fit between them. 

He didn’t say you, don’t get your hopes up. But it was impossible not to - all of Oberyn’s words and explanations aligned with his actions and your presence in his life, and for the first time, you allowed yourself to believe that he was referring to you when he mentioned an after for someone. 

“I do not hate Toban. I could never truly despise someone that holds such a large portion of Ellaria’s heart. But he has something I haven’t been able to seriously consider for myself, and seeing him … and them together is a reminder of that.” 

You kissed him when he was done speaking, puckered lips trailing over his and then to his cheek, pausing over the space where his dimple appeared each time he smiled and then moving back to his mouth. You lingered there, wanting to deepen it, but Oberyn decided for you, shaking his head and leaning back. “We need to go inside. If I get carried away with you out here, the sun will not be pleasant.” 

“Of course.” Pushing yourself to your feet, you kept the blanket wrapped around you, staring down at where he still sat. “Plus, unless I missed something in the last few hours, you and Ellaria haven’t had enough time to take care of what you need to, so… getting carried away isn’t an option.” 

“We have not.” He stood, too, reaching out to put an arm around your shoulders. “But there are other things that you and I could do that would make me lose track of time.”

“Yeah?” Feeling bold, you slid your arm around his back, hand landing on his hip and your fingertips slipping beneath the waistband of the pants he wore. “Are any of those possible in that bedroom with the drapes shut?” 

“If you’re not too tired, we can find out.” 

You were exhausted, but his words sent a jolt of adrenaline through you, your eyes moving to the partially open door. I’ll never be too tired to find out with you, Oberyn. What you’d discussed had likely taken a lot out of him, but you never would have known based on the way he led you back into the bedroom and then fluidly worked to secure the door and drapes - ensuring that not even a sliver of sunlight would leak through when it rose. 

You went into the bathroom while he did that, taking a few moments when you’d finished to stare at yourself in the mirror. You could feel the mark he’d given you - a dull thrum against the side of your throat, and even though you knew it wouldn’t do any good, you leaned in and squinted at your reflection. I know what it’s supposed to look like, but I really wish I could see it just once. 

And you didn’t even mean as a result of being turned - though if that were the case, you’d be able to see it any time you looked into the mirror. I just mean … Swirling your fingertips slowly over your skin, you sighed. I want to see what he sees.

A knock at the door startled you. When it pushed open a few seconds later, Oberyn peaking around the edge, you straightened up and smiled. “You can come in. I guess.” 

He stepped inside, leaving the door open behind him. Oh, he took his shirt off. “The room is ready. We will be able to rest for as long as we need to.” 

“What do you do while I… while the person you’re in bed with is sleeping?” You watched his expression in the mirror, both of Oberyn’s eyebrows shooting upward. “You don’t really sleep, so -”

“I do need rest. When it’s a human I’m with, my body just sort of goes into a … meditative state. I’m still alert and aware in case of danger, but if someone were to see me, they’d think I was asleep.” He stepped behind you, extending his arms so that he could grip the edges of the counter on either side of your body. “You have seen me actually sleep, though. After the Mountain? My body was doing everything possible to heal, and that meant being truly unconscious.” 

Oberyn pressed his chest to your back, never breaking eye contact with your reflection. “So it’s like a recharge. Even though you technically don’t need it, you still… keep up appearances.” 

“I do.” He nodded, turning his head to press his lips to the angle of your jaw. “When I have a reason to.” I’m the reason right now? “I also must admit to something.” He kissed you again, mouth moving closer to your ear. “In the last few days, I have spent more than a few hours just watching you sleep.” 

“Creep.” But you felt your entire body growing warm at his words, a sharp inhale of breath your only response when he let go of the counter and wound his arms around you to pull you even closer. “Oberyn.” 

“I have been trying to figure out what it is about you that has drawn me in so quickly.” He hummed, the man pushing your shirt up and gliding his fingers over your skin. “Why I was so … moved to do whatever it took to protect you, even when I was … impaired and hadn’t had the urge to give that gift to anyone in hundreds of years.” 

“Does the why matter?” Sighing as he stroked the skin beneath your belly button, you tipped your head back, resting it against his shoulder. “It doesn’t to me, because whatever the reason, it means … you’re in my life now, and I’m in yours. Whatever that means going forward is something that we’ll have to figure out, but …” Closing your eyes you took a deep breath, pressing your lips together. “Do you regret what you did? Do you wish you hadn’t been -”

“No.” It was almost a growl, Oberyn’s palm flattening against your belly, the other one moving up your body and sliding beneath the neckline of your shirt so that he could settle it over your heart. “I regret the timing, yes, and not being able to explain what I wanted to do beforehand… but when it comes to choosing you?” He nuzzled against the side of your face, his upper lip curling. “There is no regret.” 

It made you feel better. 

When you turned your head toward him, he was waiting, the man’s lips already parted so that he could pull yours between them, the scrape of his teeth making you groan. Reaching up, you used one hand to grip his hair, fingers twisting in the silver-streaked locks. He pressed harder on your chest, and once again, you knew he was monitoring your heartbeat. But this time, it’s not because he’s afraid it’s too slow. 

He kissed you harder, his mouth moving with yours - and the hand on your abdomen moved lower, the tips of his fingers skimming the waistband of your sweats. You whimpered then, Oberyn  swallowing the sound - but it only seemed to encourage him. Wait, though. Wait because … 

Pulling away from him with a gasp, you let out a shuddering breath, and were unsurprised to see mischief in his eyes, one of his brows raised. “Can, um…” Fighting to catch your breath, you chewed on your lower lip and wrinkled your nose. This is stupid. “Can they hear us? I know this is a big apartment, but …”

To his credit, Oberyn didn’t outright laugh at you. Instead he just murmured your name and leaned in to kiss you, his fingers curling slightly. “Our hearing is very good, yes. But with age and experience, we are able to … tune things out. It becomes like background noise for us unless we’re actively listening. I cannot say that they won’t all know that something is going on in here because of your heartbeat or any noises we make, but I can assure you that Ellaria and Toban are quite occupied themselves, and Tyene is more like a teenager than you know.” 

“Doesn’t want to hear either of her parents having sex? Got it.” You grinned at that, feeling marginally more at ease. “I just didn’t want to be rude, Oberyn. I know you’ll tell me that I’m worrying for nothing, but …” 

“I certainly haven’t been listening to them, I can promise you that.” The look in his eyes changed briefly, but then he was focused on you again, the intensity back. “If it makes you uncomfortable, I understand.” You considered his words for a few seconds, breaking eye contact and then closing both of yours. 

Everything you knew about Oberyn Martell - from Westerosi history books and actually meeting him in person - told you that while he had very few limitations when it came to his behavior, he was considerate of others when the situation called for it. 

He wouldn’t force you to do anything, and his honesty about the fact that three supernatural beings also in the apartment could probably hear everything happening was proof that you had a choice about whether or not to move forward. But they all already know how he is. They know how he feels, and how I feel, and …  

“I want this, Oberyn.” His hold on you tightened, and when you lifted your head again to lock eyes with him in the mirror, you nodded twice. “But, the first time we’re actually together? I’d prefer if it was just the two of us, you know?”

“Of course.” The hand at your chest dropped a few inches, Oberyn’s wrist caught on the neckline of your shirt as he palmed one breast. “No one to listen. No one to interrupt. No one to …” He pressed his lips to your cheek and then moved them down, kissing the space just beneath your ear and then against the column of your throat. “No one to make either of us leave that bed before we’re ready.” 

You moaned at that - the sound loud, and when he latched his lips against your skin and sucked, you did it again, not caring at all who was listening. He wasn’t biting you, but part of you wished that he would - and you didn’t know what exactly that said about you. “I can’t wait.” The thought of you and Oberyn - uninterrupted and in a bed together, the man finally able to give you what you both desperately wanted - was enough to make your knees shake. 

But he kept you upright, releasing your skin and then smiling against it as he continued to kiss his way forward. “On that night,” he whispered, lips moving over the part of your collarbone that was exposed, “on that night, I am going to kiss every single part of you that I marred when I was not well.” 

“Oberyn, you don’t have to -”

“It is not for you.” He shook his head, the hand at your waist sliding marginally lower while the one on your chest moved in a slow circle, one fingertip circling your nipple. “It is for me. And it is the only way I can begin to forgive myself.” You knew that telling him that you’d already forgiven him was unnecessary - he’d made the decision to make up for what he’d done, and you couldn’t sway him. “But for now…” He took a step forward, the small movement aligning your thighs with the edge of the counter. “This is for you.” 

He removed his hand from beneath your shirt and then used both of his to pull it upward, the man silent as he moved. Raising your arms to allow him to fully remove it, you let out a shuddering breath at the sight of your bare torso in the mirror, watching as he wrapped his arms around you again. He’s just watching me. Watching … us. 

The heat of his body was soft against your skin, the man’s palms warmer where they pressed to it - but you were focused on the intensity of his gaze, his eyes following the movement of his fingers as he touched you. “Oberyn, what are …” You gasped when his right hand slid down your stomach, fingers gliding beneath your waistband again - but instead of continuing down, he held it there, humming appreciatively. “You seem pleased with yourself, Prince Oberyn.” 

That got a laugh out of him, the smile spreading across his face as he palmed your chest with his other hand. But when Oberyn said your name next, there was no trace of laughter in his voice. Instead, it was low and full of want, his eyes blazing in the mirror’s reflection. “You’ll be pleased in a few minutes, too. That is a promise.” 

 You managed little more than a quiet sigh in response, but you nodded, never taking your eyes off of him. He was pressed against you from behind, the man’s body firm, and when he used one foot to nudge yours apart, you moved. Not much - just enough to widen your stance for him. Please touch me, Oberyn. Please, just … 

Reaching up with one hand, you dragged your fingers through the hair laying against the nape of his neck as you finally turned your head toward him, your upper body twisting slightly. It was enough to allow you to kiss him, your mouth pressed to his as your fingers curled. 

Despite his age and his circumstances - and the fact that your friends had the element of surprise, you knew that nothing was promised beyond the moments you were living in. Especially for me, you thought as you continued to kiss him, lips parting in a signal to him that you wanted more. Because out of everyone, I’m the only one without a contingency plan or immortal blood. 

He must have noticed a change in your heartbeat, because Oberyn pulled away moments later, his frown deep. “What is wrong? Do you want me to stop?” 

“No. I don’t.” Closing your eyes, you bit down on your lower lip. “I’m just … so much could go wrong, Oberyn. And I’m scared that I’ll lose you before …” You pulled your hand from his head, using it to cover your mouth. Just say it. “I’m scared that I’ll lose you before I can really get to know you. Or that something will happen to me, and then…” And then you’ll lose someone else you care about earlier than planned. 

“You will not lose me.” He leaned in, running his nose along your temple. “Not during this conflict, and definitely not tonight.” He kissed you then, lips landing on the corner of one eye. “And nothing is going to happen to you… nothing that you don’t like, anyway.” You felt his smile, the man pausing before he spoke again - that time, directly into your ear. “Let me take care of you, issa ōños.” 

You knew it was Valyrian, but you didn’t know what he’d said - and didn’t want to stop him and ask, especially when his hand moved even lower, the edges of his nails dragging against your sensitive skin and making your hips jerk backward into his. He was hard and made no effort to conceal that from you, Oberyn bending one knee and sliding that foot between both of your legs so that you could feel the length of him against the back of your hip. 

It also stabilized you, your lips curving into a tiny smile at the realization. But that was cut off when he kissed you again, Oberyn’s lips crushing yours with what you could only describe as a slight desperation. You have nothing to prove to me, Oberyn. Nothing at all. 

The hand on your chest moved upward, palm pausing over your heart for long moments as the kiss continued, desperation turning into something like need as he felt the steady - though elevated - beat of it. He nodded once without breaking the kiss, and when you circled your hips slowly, leaning the weight of your upper body into his, Oberyn was ready. 

He licked into your mouth, the drag of his tongue long and slow. It took you a few seconds to realize that he’d dropped his hand again, slipping his fingers between your legs and curving them - the breadth of them pressed against the apex of your thighs. His touch was welcome, and when he stroked you with one long finger, you moaned into his mouth, your hand rising again to let your fingers tangle in his hair. 

He continued with only one finger, though he sped up after a minute or so, the man not doing anything but touching you until he broke the kiss to let you breathe. You gasped a breath into your lungs, eyes squeezed shut, and when Oberyn’s hand moved upward from your chest and to your throat, you let it out shakily at what you knew was coming. 

He made contact with the mark on your neck at the same time one finger slipped into you, Oberyn humming as you breathed out his name, the sound so quiet that only someone with his hearing would have known. Your muscles clenched around his finger, your body accommodating him immediately - though you wanted more, and knew that he’d want you to say so. 

You opened your mouth to tell him, turning your head just enough so that you could steal a quick kiss, but when your lips met, you felt the sharp sting of his teeth - the man nicking your lip and then snapping his head back before you could even react. His fangs are out. Is that new or has it been that way every time we’ve been close like this? “I am sorry, I didn’t mean to -”

“Don’t apologize for what you are, Oberyn.” You dragged your tongue slowly over the area he’d bitten, your tongue coming away coated in the tang of copper. You met his eyes again - directly that time, and not in the mirror - and shook your head without looking away. “I can handle it, and I want to.” It was the truth - you needed him to know that no part of him or who he was or what he wanted frightened you or made  you uncomfortable in any way, and that you trusted him to toe the line of safety with you in every situation. “Can…” Swallowing, you nodded. “Can I see?” 

He hesitated but it was brief. Oberyn’s hand dropped from your neck back to your upper chest, the motion of his other hand paused, too. “Yes. You can.” He opened his mouth again, tipping his head back and baring his teeth - and you watched as his fangs descended, the sharp points coming into view with no change in his expression. Oberyn stayed still, the man’s eyes on your face as you stared at what he was showing you. 

They were beautiful - much like the rest of him was - and without thinking about it, you raised your hand slowly, fingertips caressing his cheek as your thumb hovered just in front of his open mouth. “Does it hurt?” You spoke quietly, wondering what he felt in the rhythm of your heartbeat. “When they come down?”

“No.” He prodded at one with the tip of his tongue, your eyes following the movement. “It never has.” You wanted to touch one of them - to press the pad of your thumb against the point, testing the sharpness, but had no idea if that would be crossing the line of acceptability. “People used to fear them, even after I told them what I was. I became … adept at keeping them hidden. At not letting my natural reaction to … others allow them to be visible.” 

“So they come out when you’re turned on?” Arching a brow, you grinned at him again. “Good to know.” The edge of your nail caught on his lower lip, and then Oberyn snapped his teeth at you, playfully nipping at it before turning his head to kiss the inside of your wrist with a lingering press of his lips. “Oberyn.” You got his attention with a single word, his gaze rising to lock with yours again. “You have my permission to … bite me if that’s what you want.” 

It sounded stupid coming from you - the words leaving your lips and echoing in the small space. But he probably needs to hear it, because he was so afraid I’d be mad or off-put and … I’m not. “Is it what you want?” 

He pulled you closer to his body, Oberyn’s fingers curling against your core, and you nodded in return. “Yes. I want you, and that urge is a part of who you are, so… it is.” His eyes flashed at your admission, the man’s pupils widening - and then he was kissing you again, none of the previous restraint present. 

Instead, he took the lead, his mouth pressed to yours with some force as the hand between your legs began to move again. But that time, Oberyn went with two fingers, much as he had done in the safehouse. It felt better - your body’s immediate reaction to cant your hips forward over and over into his touch, chasing the pressure of the heel of his hand on each backstroke. 

He bit your lip again before he moved his mouth to your jaw, the points of his teeth scraping over it and then dragging along your cheek, the man’s plush lips trailing a second path over your heated skin. 

Closing your eyes and breathing hard, you angled your head away and gave him a better route to your neck, knowing full well that he wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize the mark - but still wanting his mouth on it, wanting to feel the heat of his lips as the effect of the claim he’d made on you coursed through your body. Not a claim, you reminded yourself as he bit on your earlobe before releasing it. A promise. A reminder that he wants to keep me safe. 

And Oberyn did press his lips to your mark moments later, along with a twist of his wrist that left his fingers buried in you but also allowed him to circle his thumb over the spot just above them, your hips jerking back once more. His kiss burned, the connection between you electric in its intensity, and you forced your eyes open, watching what was going on in the mirror. 

It was a sight you’d never forget - one of his hands pressed so tightly to your chest that your flesh dimpled beneath it, the other hidden beneath the sweats you still wore, the motion of the fabric over the movement of his fingers and the flex of the muscles in his wrist and forearm something that you could have watched for hours. 

But it was his head that you focused on, the crown of dark curls streaked with silver repositioned after only a few seconds and giving you a view of his brow and nose as he moved away from your throat and back to the place where your neck met your shoulder. 

You didn’t even notice your own bare skin - chest on full display in the warm light of the vanity fixture - because you were so focused on him and what he was doing. But nothing could have prepared you for Oberyn raising his eyes and turning his head so that he could rest his chin on your shoulder. 

He curled his fingers inside of you at the same moment he smirked, and then he opened his mouth, letting you watch as his fangs descended once more. He’s going to … Oh, he’s… 

You knew it was coming and yet you were still unprepared for the way it felt the moment he sunk his teeth into your skin, the man’s low moan at the taste of you sending a shiver of pleasure throughout your entire body. Your first instinct was to close your eyes but you forced yourself to keep them open, watching as your mouth dropped open, lips forming his name though you didn’t speak it out loud. 

He didn’t actually drink from you the same way he had the first night. Instead, Oberyn sipped slowly, timing the swallows with the strokes of his fingers, your body following his lead. You lifted one hand and laid it over the one he had on your chest, using the other one to grip the edge of the counter even though it was unnecessary. 

You wanted to watch - wanted to see the exact moment you fell apart from his touch and his mouth, but instead of doing that, you closed your eyes and let yourself relax into him, the man supporting your weight, even as your hips continued to move in tandem with his hand. 

There was pressure building in your lower belly - the result of his touch and his bite, and if you could sense it, you knew that he likely could, too. But I haven’t touched him. I haven’t … he hasn’t… You groaned, forcing your eyes open and saying his name, the man looking up without pulling his mouth away from your skin. His eyes were dark - the pupils so wide that you couldn’t tell where they ended, and there was a tiny trickle of blood at one corner of his mouth that made you gasp when you saw it. That’s my … oh, shit. 

But it didn’t deter you, and when you spoke moments later, your voice was low, though you heard the certainty in your tone. “Touch yourself, Oberyn. I know you want to.” 

His eyes rolled back and then he shut them, pulling the hand on your chest out from beneath yours as he sucked on your shoulder, and then you felt that hand slide down your body before it joined the other one between your legs. What the fuck is he… 

Before you could even finish your thought, Oberyn deftly replaced his first hand with the second, never missing a beat in the rhythm of his touch. Oh, he’s … oh, shit. Humming, you watched as he removed the first hand - his fingers glistening with your slick - and drew it back between your bodies, pushing the pants he wore down so that he could do what you’d told him to.  

He grunted against your skin and then you felt him move - stroking himself slowly, the man’s knuckles brushing against your back and hip. He sped up the motion of his other hand, and you glanced down, catching a glimpse of what was going on behind you - his large hand wrapped around his length, lower body pulled away from yours enough to give him the space he needed to glide easily. 

You had no idea what a vampire’s release would be like - or if it would be anything at all - but before you could dwell on the thought, Oberyn’s thumb found a sweet spot again, the man pressing down against your skin before circling slowly, another prolonged suck on your shoulder making you gasp. 

It was almost too much - definitely more than you’d experienced with him the first time he’d touched you, but at the same time, it was nowhere close to being enough. Will it ever be? You wondered as you forced your eyes to stay open, gaze focused on the flex of the tendons in his wrist and the way the length of him looked - tip flushed, the rest of him and his hand coated in you. 

Without warning, Oberyn released your shoulder and lifted his head, and you let out a moan at what he left behind - a double set of puncture wounds on your skin, thin trails of blood oozing from them and more of the same coating his lower lip. He looked almost drunk, his eyelids heavy, and for a few seconds, you thought he was going to stay like that… but you were wrong. 

“Give me your hand.” Voice low, he made the demand, Oberyn’s tongue cleaning the blood from his mouth. “Over mine.” Ducking his head, you felt as he kissed the place he bit once more, followed by the drag of his tongue, which felt almost as good as the bite itself. But you moved your hand at the same time, making a guess that he wasn’t asking for help touching you and reaching back so that you could wrap your fingers over his mid-stroke. 

He grunted at your touch, and before you could question him further, it was your hand resting against his skin, Oberyn’s larger one securely atop yours and guiding you. He was warm against your palm, the heft of him large but not uncomfortable, and as you took over, Oberyn’s focus shifted back to the hand he had between your legs, the speed of those thrusts increasing, as did the pace of his thumb. 

It felt amazing  - better than anything that had ever been done to your body before, and Oberyn knew it, the man’s smile turning lazy as he focused on the mirror. “Normally I would prolong this,” he murmured, mouth moving along your skin. “To see how long you could remain right on the edge.” No, please. Not tonight. I just want … “But that is not what either of us needs tonight.” He sighed, mouthing at the base of your throat and then parting his lips to bite again - that time without his fangs. “Tonight you just need me.” 

It was the truth - and it didn’t matter how or why he knew it, and so you nodded, swallowing and tipping your head back as you paused your hand long enough to swirl your thumb over his head, the man twitching at the touch. Squeezing once in agreement, you then resumed your movement - and Oberyn changed his, holding his fingers still inside you while the third kept moving - the pace increasing. 

“Oberyn!” You cried out, your voice much louder than you’d anticipated, but it only encouraged him, the muscles in your abdomen tightening as your toes curled, Oberyn’s hand squeezing yours once more before releasing it. He moved that hand up to your chest again, the weight of his touch grounding you and holding you tight against his body. Even though your eyes snapped closed, you knew why he was touching you there - knew what he was searching for. And I hope he likes it, you thought even as your lips fell open in a series of pants, breath shaky. My fucking heart is racing, and … 

“There it is,” he whispered, followed by a quiet hum of approval. “There you go.” 

You fell apart moments later, your body nearly convulsing at his touch - your free hand slapping against the countertop as the one you had on him stuttered in its motion, grip tightening. Your muscles clenched around his fingers, and Oberyn kept them still, the man swearing in another language - one that you didn’t recognize before turning to kiss the underside of your jaw, the press of his lips against the pulse in your neck welcome. 

He eased you through it, his touch lengthening your orgasm, but once the haze of pleasure had begun to subside, you took a deep, shaky breath and used the hand on the counter to touch his wrist, stopping the motion. Stop. Stop, Oberyn. “Let me turn around, Oberyn.” 

He slipped his fingers from inside of you, but didn’t pull his hand free from beneath your sweats. You let him go long enough to turn and face him, knees wobbly and your chest heaving, but when you met his eyes, you saw understanding in them. “Are you -”

“Be quiet.” Wetting your lips, you shook your head. “Be quiet and let me take care of you now.” His eyes flashed but he didn’t speak, and when you touched him again, your grip was certain - your confidence growing with each passing second. 

He crowded you against the counter again, and without thinking, you maneuvered yourself so that you were sitting on the edge of it, legs spread so that Oberyn could step between them. It gave you better access, and when you reached up with your free hand, gripping the hair at the back of his neck and urging him to kiss you, Oberyn didn’t hesitate. 

It was a deep kiss, Oberyn’s  tongue seeking entrance to your mouth immediately, and as he kissed you, his hips began to rock forward, the tiny thrusts forcing more of him through your grip. He held you with both hands - one of them pressed to the center of your back, the other one gripping the back of your neck and holding you in place, but despite the power behind it, his grip was gentle. 

You felt his fangs again when he bit on your lower lip but he didn’t pierce the skin, and when you gasped, the sound turning into a moan moments later, Oberyn groaned too, his hips moving faster. He broke the kiss, humming out your name. “I am close. I… where do y-”

“Anywhere.” Pressing a kiss to his lips, you shook your head. “Anywhere, Oberyn.” He grunted at your words but didn’t speak again, and when Oberyn kissed you hard, mouth sealed over yours, you knew that close meant imminent. 

Your heart racing again, you swirled your thumb over his tip and squeezed, the speed of your hand increasing as Oberyn’s lips parted, though he didn’t pull back from you. Forcing your eyes open, you tilted your head down to stare between your bodies, twisting your wrist so that when he came, it would hit your belly - and that change was all he needed, the man pulsing in your hand as he followed you over the edge. 

It coated your skin, pearly streaks hitting your stomach, the volume increasing with each stroke of your hand until he was nearly shuddering in your grip, Oberyn’s muscles twitching though he didn’t seem to have any trouble staying on his feet. “Fuck.” He swore, the sound beautiful to your ears. “You just … you are …” 

“Hold that thought, Prince Oberyn.” With one more stroke - and a final squeeze - you released him, fingertips trailing up his stomach until you could press your hand over his heart. It was strange to feel nothing beneath your palm, but it wasn’t difficult to imagine what it would have felt like - his chest rising and falling rapidly while he struggled to catch his breath, his lips parted as he sucked air between them. But it doesn’t matter, because he’s alive in all the ways that count. Your hand moved higher, fingers curling around the side of his throat and your thumb sliding over his jawline. “Ok, now you can finish.” 

“I just did.” He raised an eyebrow. “All over your -” You laughed, eyes closing and your chin dropping, but when Oberyn said your name, you looked back up at him. “I know you heard me earlier, heard what I called you?” Oh, he’s … Nodding, you took a deep breath and held it. “Issa ōños, it means … it means my light. And that is what you are to me, because you’ve shown me something I haven’t seen in a very long time.” 

Your heart was racing, his explanation of the words much more intimate than you’d ever expected them to be. “I have?” He nodded, both of his hands slipping down toward your waist. 

“The way forward. Hope. What it means to … care for someone again. I am beginning to see an end to the darkness I have lived with for so long.” You didn’t know what to say, and any of the things that crossed your mind seemed like too little - so you just leaned forward and kissed him gently, stroking the back of his head. When the kiss ended, neither of you said anything - but you didn’t separate, either, locked in place and holding each other, his forehead pressed to yours. We can’t stay here, though. 

“We should get cleaned up, Oberyn. I need to lay down.” Sighing, you straightened up and looked into his eyes. “And I need to … figure out how to respond to what you just said, because -”

“No. You don’t. Not yet.” He smiled, the expression understanding. “I just wanted you to know.” The man backed off, though he was reluctant to let you go. “It is important that you know.”  

He stepped away, giving you the room you needed to climb off of the counter and begin to clean up, doing the same thing beside you before pulling his pants back on. Everything he says is important. But that seems … very important. And I just … I don’t know what to think. 

Luckily for you, there was plenty of time, since you had days before the engagement party and wedding, and you weren’t involved in every aspect of the attack plan. But it can wait until I wake up. You yawned, swaying on your feet as you dried your face off with a fluffy towel, but then you felt Oberyn’s arms around you again, his mouth right next to your ear. “It’s time for bed. You can barely stand.” 

You didn’t argue, and only a few seconds later, you were horizontal on the comfortable mattress, the thick blanket covering you while Oberyn pressed against you from behind.

You were drowsy, and knew that it wouldn’t take long to fall asleep, but you forced yourself to speak one final time, clearing your throat without opening your eyes. “I know you won’t sleep, but I hope you get some rest.” He chuckled, his mouth pressed to the back of your shoulder. “I’ll see you when I wake up. I lo-” 

You stopped yourself just in time, breath catching in your throat. Oh, no. Oh, I just almost… His arm tightened around you, Oberyn pulling you as close as he could. “I will be here.” I almost just fucked everything up. I almost ruined everything. 

You were exhausted, but the racing of your heart at the near admission kept you awake for a long time. And if Oberyn noticed - which you knew that he did - he didn’t comment on it, his body still behind yours.  

“You’re serious?” You looked back and forth between them, eyes wide. “Tyene? Toban? You’re telling me that -”

“Yes. We’ve all been cooped up in here for a week, and you haven’t been anywhere for almost two aside from coming here.” The girl grinned, holding out a hand. “We’re going out tonight.” 

“But shouldn’t we -” You bit your lip, shaking your head. “Shouldn’t you two be worried about preparing for the wedding instead of worrying about babysitting a human? The engagement party is tomorrow, and…” Trailing off, you looked at Toban’s face, watching as he studied you. “That’s why we’re leaving.” 

Closing your eyes, you nodded. It’s because the party is tomorrow. “After tomorrow, we lose the element of surprise.” Tyene stepped forward, glancing at Toban. “Or at least Oberyn and Ellaria do. So between then and the wedding, things will be … harder for us. Unless we go tonight, we won’t be able to until it’s all over because they might be looking.” 

“And at that point, none of us will be hiding anymore.” Toban cleared his throat, saying your name. “So tonight, the three of us are going to leave the apartment, you are going to check in with someone that you know as proof of life, and Tyene and I are going to fuel up for what is coming.” 

That was code for find someone to drink from, though he was tactful about admitting it. “That’s not the only reason we’re leaving.” You smiled at her, nodding, even though you felt a pang in your chest. “But alright. Let me get changed. I don’t think I want my first time out and around people in such a long time to be in sweatpants.” She grinned, turning and leaving the room, though Toban remained, the man eyeing you curiously. “What? What did -”

“He expects you to be upset.” Frowning, Toban shook his head. “But you aren’t… at least in the way it would make sense for you to be.” 

“Oberyn told me about your gift.” You stood, taking a deep breath. “And you’re right, I do feel … something right now, but … two thousand years of history between them? I’ve known him for fifteen seconds in comparison. And if this is what needs to happen so that he can focus on what’s coming, there’s no way I can be mad about it.” You chewed on your lip and then shook your head. “This isn’t a shock to me, Toban. I knew it was going to happen.If anything, I’m surprised it took this long.” 

He looked like he wanted to say something else, but instead closed his eyes, nodding. He doesn’t know what to say. “How long do you need to get ready?” Toban cleared his throat. “An hour?”

“No, not even close.” Glancing around the room, you shrugged. “Twenty minutes? A half hour?” He agreed and then followed Tyene out of the room, leaving you alone. There were plenty of clothes for you to choose from, and after checking the weather on one of the TV channels, you opted for a pair of jeans and a light colored tee, pulling a cardigan over it. 

From there, you moved to the vanity, sliding onto the bench seat and reaching for the small bag of toiletries that included makeup, trying to decide whether or not you wanted to put in the effort. Not like I’m trying to impress anyone. 

“I have warned them that if anything happens to you, they will answer to me.” 

Turning your head toward the voice, you rolled your eyes when you saw Oberyn leaning against the doorway, his arms crossed. “You wouldn’t have agreed to let me leave this apartment if you thought something might happen.” He pushed off of the wall and moved toward where you sat, the man settling both hands on your shoulders. “It’ll be good to get outside, Oberyn, to be around other people again.” 

“Are we not enough?” You thought about lying and then opted not to, setting the compact you held back down as you turned your head again to look up at him. 

“It’s not that you aren’t enough. I just … I went from interacting with dozens of people every day and using all kinds of technology whenever I wanted to the confines of an apartment, no phone, and the same four faces for the last two weeks.” Aside from Clegane and Tyrion, that is. “It was a big change.” 

“You’ll be back in that world full time soon enough.” He cleared his throat. “I’m … sorry that this is what your life has become. You should not have to hide here, with us. This is not your fight.” 

“It is, though.” Eyeing yourself in the mirror, you shrugged. “It became my fight the second you kissed me at that party, Oberyn. And I’ll do whatever I can to help you win it.” Even if that means going out to a bar so that you can fuck the lingering effects of Ellaria’s blood from your system. “Besides, spending time with Toban and Tyene will be … interesting. I’m sure they’ll have a ton of stories to tell me, and with you and Ellaria out of earshot, they won’t have to worry about censoring themselves.” 

He laughed at that but didn’t speak, his eyes on you as you applied mascara. You could see his reflection in the mirror, the man’s brow furrowed, and you wondered what it would actually take for him to speak up. I’ve never seen him like this. He twisted the ring on his thumb with two fingers, still silent when you picked up another brush - but Oberyn finally broke the silence a few seconds later, his tone full of confusion. 

“You are calm. Your heartbeat is … steady.” He frowned, glancing up at the ceiling. “Yet you know what is going to happen when -”

“Oberyn.” Capping your eyeliner, you spun on the bench to face him, hands in your lap. “Yes. I know that when the three of us are gone, you and Ellaria are going to fuck.” You knew it was more than that, but being blunt was the route you chose. “You need to be clearheaded for tomorrow, and even though having the extra stamina from her blood would probably be helpful if something happens, the focus is more important.” 

“Among other things.” He mumbled the words and then held a hand out, waiting for you to take it. “I wish it did not have to be this way.” 

“Why?” He pulled you to your feet, his free hand going to your waist. “You love her, Oberyn. You haven’t seen her in a while, and this is probably the longest the two of you have ever gone in each other’s presence without jumping into bed.” Settling your hand on his chest, you said his name again. “I will never be jealous of what the two of you have. She saved your life twice that I know about, and probably countless more times between, too.” He smiled at that - just a twitch of his lips but it was there, and so you continued. “Plus, if that night in the bathroom was any indication, my pelvis and ribs wouldn’t stand a chance with you until you get that out of your system.” Arching a brow, you stared at him for a few seconds, giving your words time to land. 

You hadn’t discussed what had happened between you - or what you’d almost said - after waking up, and the following few days had been filled with planning sessions, meaning that Oberyn’s attention was divided. You’d thought about it, of course, and figured that he had, too … but you knew that he had far more important things to worry about.

But those things didn’t keep him from you in the time before you went to bed each day, Oberyn taking breaks to lay with you until you’d fallen asleep, his hand stroking over the parts of your body that he could reach and the two of you trading deep, slow kisses until your eyes closed and he had the opportunity to extricate himself, heading back into the other room with Ellaria, Toban and Tyene. 

You only knew this was the case because you’d woken up to an empty bed one night, the fear that he was gone filling you for long moments and only abating when you heard his voice from the other room, Toban’s joining in moments later. He’d always been in bed again when you woke up, though, the comforting weight of him beside you and his face the first thing you saw when you opened your eyes. 

Tyrion hadn’t come back, but packages from him had arrived throughout the week - blueprints and files, a secure phone that he’d used to call your group twice - and so you knew that he was still all in. You also knew that while the actual plan was to attack just before the wedding ceremony, there were contingencies in place in case the Lannisters acted out of character and attempted anything at the party. 

“You certainly did not complain about the way I was touching you the other night.” Narrowing his eyes playfully, he cocked his head to the side. “Or the way I used my hands.” 

“And I never would, but Oberyn, I do enjoy walking and being able to comfortably sit in chairs and breathing without pain, so … yeah. Five or six thousand years is a lot more than two, so -” Leaning in, you kissed him on the mouth, nodding. “Yes. You do what you need to do and I’m going to go and convince Toban and Tyene to let me have a couple cheap beers and the greasiest -” 

“Do you want me to stay in the other room tonight?” His hands went to your waist, all traces of humor gone from his tone. “The last thing I want to do is make you uncomfortable.” That threw you, and you were unable to keep your expression from changing before you got yourself under control. Oh, Oberyn. 

“I’m … not sure.” Averting your eyes, you pressed your lips together. “I don’t think I’ll be able to answer that until I get back, to be honest.”  

“Thank you. Thank you for being -”

“Oberyn, will you please stop being annoying and let her leave?” Tyene popped her head into the room, a clear look of irritation on her face. “This isn’t the inquisition, and -” He stepped backwards, pulling you with him without looking away. But Oberyn used one hand to shove the girl back into the hallway, followed by closing the door before he pressed his back to it, two quick knocks from outside immediately following. “Two minutes, Martell. Or I’m breaking this door down, and -”

“I’ll be out in one, Tyene!” Raising your voice, you cut her off before turning your full attention to Oberyn. “I’ll see you when I get back.” You contemplated telling him to have fun, but decided against it, choosing instead to lean closer, winding your arms around his neck and tucking your head in. “In one piece, too. Maybe even a little tipsy. We’ll see.” 

“We will.” He kissed the top of your head, arms snaking around your waist. “Please be careful. Stay close to them. If one of them -”

“I’ll listen to them the same way I would you.” Backing off, you nodded. “I promise. Now kiss me goodbye and let me leave, alright?” He eyed you warily, but you could see that  there was pride in his eyes, too - the man staring at you in a way no one ever had before.

His kiss took you by surprise, the press of the man’s mouth gentle, even as the tips of his fingers dug into your sides. He deepened it, Oberyn swallowing your sigh as he traced his tongue along the edges of your teeth and then let it slide past them, meeting yours. 

It wasn’t a goodbye kiss, though you could have read it as one, because you were about to walk out the front door of the apartment into an uncertain world for the first time in days. Instead, it seemed to be a promise - that even though you were leaving and he’d be going to bed with another woman that he was in love with while you were gone, he was what would be waiting when you came back. “I’ll see you in a few hours.” He spoke into your ear, his voice barely above a whisper. “Enjoy yourself.” 

He took your hand and urged you away from the door, opening it and walking down the hallway to where the other three were waiting. Toban and Tyene were dressed to leave the apartment but Ellaria looked more casual - her long hair down and trailing over her shoulders, the dress she wore loose, too. She looks … beautiful. 

“Alright.” Tyene clapped her hands together when she saw the two of you and then pointed at the door. “I need a damn drink, let’s get the hell out of here.” She grabbed your free hand as she passed, tugging you away from Oberyn without breaking stride. “Toban’s buying.” 

Two hours later, you were ready to admit that getting out of the apartment and back into the real world was exactly what you needed. 

After a short Uber ride, the three of you found yourself in Culver City - not quite close enough to your apartment to make it obvious, but in a place you were much more comfortable with than you would have been at one of the upscale downtown bars. 

You’d been on edge until you finished your first drink, constantly looking around the somewhat crowded room, fingers curled protectively around the frosty glass - but when you’d seen how at ease Tyene and Toban were, you followed suit. 

Your second drink went down smoothly, too, while you focused on a story that Toban was telling about the years he’d spent in Australia. But before you could order a third, the man stopped you, his hand settling on your arm. “We’re going to walk down the street to another place before we do anything else.” 

“Why? Is it -”

“I believe you call this bar-hopping?” He lifted his glass, saluting with it before he finished the final sips of his beer. “And there are still enough people in costume that it’s good cover.” You laughed, rolling your eyes. “Plus, I think Tyene’s got her eye on someone, so we’ll have to leave once she’s done.” 

The two of you watched as the girl flirted with a man near the bar, reaching up to tousle his hair while she laughed. Good for her. “What about you?” You focused on him, taking a breath. “See anyone here that you like?” 

“I can wait.” He drummed his fingers on the table, looking around the room. “I need less and less to survive as time passes. It’ll be good to… renew myself, but my focus right now is on you.” 

“I didn’t want this.” Shifting in your seat, you shook your head. “The last thing I want is for someone else to be responsible for me because I’m just -” A human. A weak little human who wouldn’t stand a chance against the Mountain or a vampire or something as fucking simple as getting hurt. 

“I can’t speak for her,” he interrupted, gesturing to Tyene, who’d pulled the man into a kiss. “But I’m always happy to spend time with new friends.” He laid his hand atop yours, squeezing. “Especially when they’re as special as you are.” 

“I’m just -”

“You’re not just anything. Not anymore.” Toban lifted his hand and held up one finger, the man nodding - and you only realized that he was signaling Tyene when his attention was fully back on you, his expression widening into a grin. “And now I have a surprise for you.”

“A surprise?” He nodded again, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a phone. “What is -”

“Choose someone you trust. Not family, if you can help it… but someone that you can have a conversation with. Talk for a few minutes, and then invite them out. Invite them to meet us at a random place around here. Are you familiar with the area?” 

“Yeah.” You took the phone, turning it over in your hand. “Is there anywhere I should avoid?” 

“No. Tyene can hear what you say. She’ll head to wherever you suggest next once she finishes with her friend and wait to see if anyone … else shows up before we do. Enhanced everything is an asset to us. And when we know it’s safe, you and I will head there, too.” 

“Is this dangerous? I don’t want to risk it if … This was great. I don’t need to -”

“I heard what you said to Oberyn earlier. You need the interaction. You need to see a friendly human face.” He leaned closer. “You need more than any of us can give you right now.” He was right - and you knew it, so with a tiny nod of agreement, you averted your eyes and dialed a number you knew by heart. 

It rang twice before someone picked up, and at the sound of the voice on the other end of the line, you closed your eyes, grinning. “Nora? It’s me. I’m so sorry I haven’t called you back. Want to meet for a drink?” 

Tag list reblogs coming soon! 

[softquietsteadylove]

Helloo, how are you?

So its halloween and i have a little request for something scary. Maybe the eternals somehow end up in this very old and problaby haunted house, and then the ghost in said house take a liking for Thena, so they start to hide her and make the others see her when she is not there. And poor Gil is more scared that he would like.

(Also thank you for answering to my asks🩷😭)

"This place really is massive," Gil commented mildly as he moved the flashlight around the walls. It was just the sound of their steps and their breathing. The halls of this old asylum were oppressively quiet.

"It's easily the largest space we've ever been in," Thena agreed as she too moved moved her light to examine their surroundings. "Its a good thing the others agreed to come with us to man the equipment."

Their friends were being good sports about it, whether or not they were present as true believers or because if half of their group was already in, they might as well all come.

"I hope they don't hate me for dragging them out here all Halloween night," he gulped as they turned a corner down - what a surprise - another pitch black hallway.

Thena scoffed at the idea, though, allowing him to walk even closer to her, all but clinging to her arm. "Please, all they would be doing is loitering at Phastos' anyway. He and Ben would be watching something, Makkari and Druig would be pretending not to make out in the corner and Ikaris would be trying - and failing - to hold Sersi's hand during the whole movie."

Gil snickered beside her. Thena's observations could seem cutting at times, but they were never all that inaccurate. And they could be pretty funny, in that way. "I'm sure he'd get there eventually."

"I have yet to see it," she drawled about their mutual friend, more frenemy when it came to her and Ikaris in particular. "Speaking of, when did they last check in?"

Gil pulled pulled out his walkie-talkie. "Ground floor, do you copy?"

"Ugh, Gil--aye, we're still 'ere. You don't have to go all air traffic control for it."

Well, if he was going to be such a stick in the mud. Gil huffed, "roger that, Party-Pooper."

"Oi!"

Thena took his hand and pulled the walkie closer to her. "Sersi, tell us if he holds onto you too tight and we'll switch floors."

"Watch it!"

The constant radio static of the channel clicked again and Sersi laughed. "He's really quite all right, you two. Anything up there?"

"Nothing, so far," Thena sighed before remembering to add, "over and out."

Gil smiled as he put the walkie back in his pocket. Thena probably thought it was silly too, but she would never actually say anything. It was one of the many ways in which she indulged him on these ghost hunts. "Hey."

She looked at him, wondering what had caught his attention. Once she saw him wiggling his hand at her, her smiled turned a little bit shy as she slipped her hand into his. "Do you think they'll know what to look for?"

"I told them about what all the equipment does, they should be able to tell if they get any activity," Gil murmured as they turned down a hall into a more residential looking area. "Whoa, this looks like an actual house."

"This must have been an area for those in a palliative sort of care, like a true hospice," she muttered, pressing closer to him. It was still old floors and concrete walls, but there were now rooms with more than nothing, some even still had an old metal bed frame in them. There was a dresser or two, even a mirror.

Gil winced as their flashlights both hit it head on. He lowered his, but he blinked and rubbed his eyes after the fact. "Can't believe something like that is still standing in a place like this in one piece."

Thena had no comment on it, apparently.

"Kinda freaky, right?" he sighed as he rubbed at his eyes again before shaking it off. "Thena?"

He looked around.

"Thena?" he called out with a little more urgency. He moved the flashlight around, plenty of the room doors were open, but he would have heard her. He would have felt her, wouldn't he? "Thena?!"

He rushed to check each of the rooms, forgetting how creepy everything was. His stomping feet were echoing all over the place, but that didn't matter. "Thena, where are you?!"

All that came back was his own voice bouncing around. He was starting to panic.

"Thena, please, answer me!" he panted, even moving the creaky, old doors to make sure she wasn't hiding somewhere. How could she have just vanished into this air?

He shouldn't have let go of her hand.

"Thena, please!" he shouted, retracing their steps, shining his flashlight down every hall he passed. He knew most of them led to dead ends. Where could she have gone? His hand pulled out the walkie-talkie again, fumbling with it a little. "G-Guys?!"

"Gil, what's wrong?"

"Th-Thena!" he gulped, knowing they needed more information than that. "She was right next to me and-and now-"

"Whoa, Gil, slow down. Nothing's happened to Thena, I'm sure she just went to look at something that caught her eye," Sersi attempted to diffuse his worry.

"Why the hell weren't you keeping an eye on her?" Ikaris snapped at him in sharp contrast.

"Oi," Druig chimed in on his set. "You all need to calm down, I just saw 'er."

"What?" Gil frowned. Druig and Makkari were on the second level, although most of it was sectioned off thanks to a fire from the last century. He rushed to the stairs, "you're sure?"

"Yeah, I saw her walk clear through that light grid you put up, actually," Druig narrated. He paused and then continued, "Kari saw'er goin' down the far stairwell."

"You mean the one to your left?" Gil asked, rushing down the main stairs so quickly he almost tripped at the very bottom. But he took off, full on sprinting.

"Yeah?"

Based on where they had set up, there was no way Thena could be on the stairwell to their left, because it led to absolutely nowhere, just a collapsed hallway downstairs and a boarded up room at the top. Whatever they had seen wasn't Thena.

"Keep your nightvision cam on, okay? And you two stay there--and stay close together!"

"Gil, man, you okay?" Ikaris asked a little more sympathetically, obviously hearing the urgency in his voice over the loud and static-y walkies. "Like Sersi said, I'm sure Thena's just fine."

"I'm on my way to you, just sit tight," Gil huffed. His chest felt tight, like it was on fire. He looked around, only now on the second floor. This place was such a massive hell hole, who knew what kind of malevolent spirits were in here. "Guys?!"

"Hold yer bloody horses, man, hell," Druig flashed his light at him from within the main hallway of the floor. As soon as Gil rounded the corner, though, Druig was already on his feet. Despite his words, his face was dead serious, "she really not with you?"

Gil gulped. Tears sprang to his eyes, although he knew this wasn't the time. He shook his head, trying to catch his breath. The light grid they had set up to pick up any kind of movement was still shining into the closed off areas ahead.

He jumped, but Makkari rubbed his back with a reassuring smile. Druig shone the light a little closer to them to illuminate her words. This place is like a maze, I'm sure she's looking for you too.

That was actually what worried him. He had screamed for her, at the very top of his lungs. And not only had he not heard anything back, but apparently none of their friends had heard him either, which seemed impossible.

And if he couldn't hear Thena, then how would he know if she needed his help?

"Where did you see her?" he asked, shining his own light closer to his face for Kari to read his lips.

She pointed. I swear I saw her walk through the grid. I thought she saw something in the window.

Thena would never walk through the light grid herself; it would compromise any evidence they got of a spectral figure. Still, Gil moved closer to it. He shone the flashlight into the corridor, through the propped open door. It was hard to tell with the light in the window reflection, but he was pretty sure it was just a boarded up, empty room through there.

Druig took the liberty of packing up the light grid and putting it back in his bag. "Take a look."

Gil slid closer to the darkened hallway. Despite never having been on one of these hunts before, all their friends were far less scared than he was. Maybe because they definitely didn't believe in ghosts. His heart hammered as he entered the suffocating dark of the hallway. He pressed his flashlight to the window of the door that was boarded closed. If something jumped up at him he might have a heart attack.

It was just a closed up room, full of evidence of fire damage. He angled the light around as best he could without giving himself nothing but reflection to look at. He jumped as some kind of movement caught his eye. He tried to follow it but it was gone as soon as he saw it. But he knew it moved towards the other door to the room.

And it looked blonde.

Druig and Makkari made room for him as he started running towards the main stairs again. "Come on!"

"If she's messin' with us she's makin' us go through a hell of a workout," Druig felt the need to chime in, following him down the stairs.

But Gil knew that wasn't the case. Maybe - maybe - she might mess with Ikaris a little, possibly Druig, all in good fun. But she would never make him worry about her like this, she just wouldn't. She would never scare him like this, not when it was always her calming him down on these hunts.

It really was like a labyrinth in this place. Gil leapt down the last two stairs and whipped open the doors to the main floor. "Did you see her?!"

Ikaris and Sersi both jumped off the bench of the entrance hallway. They looked at each other and then at him. They still had most of the equipment set up around them, and a floodlight pointed at the ceiling for a little more illumination of the area.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Ikaris growled at him for storming in the way he did. "Didn't you see her on your level?"

Druig shrugged, "thought we did."

But Gil rushed past all of them, taking a right and pulling open the doors. This place was so massive, it was hard to keep track. But if the figure he had seen in the other room had been Thena, or worse, something else, it would have ended up in here. "Thena!"

Still, nothing but his own voice. It didn't echo like it did upstairs, though. He moved his flashlight around, seeing all the junk that was pushed into this empty but undamaged area of the building. He moved more slowly.

His heart was still hammering, but he made himself take each next step. He couldn't stop until Thena's hand was in his again. "Thena, are you in here?"

He could have sworn a voice whispered back to him. It would have been great potential evidence if he had any equipment or was recording anything. But for now, he took the potential whisper of 'she's mine' and scowled. "No, she's not."

Whatever whispered at him didn't have another reply to that.

Gil slid around a corner constructed of old office furniture, flashing his light in every nook and cranny. "She's my girlfriend! Whatever you are, find someone on your own plain of existence!"

Something rattled in a far corner. He really was going to have a heart attack in here. But he gulped, re-grasping his flashlight in his sweaty palm. No ghost was getting his precious Thena--not tonight.

He moved closer to the rattling. It was a doorknob turning. Okay, so he might die in here tonight. He hoped his friends would escape, at least. But if he did die, then maybe he could be with Thena. If she had died alone in here, he would never forgive himself.

There was a door, and the doorknob was turning.

Gil let out a breath and steeled his resolve again. He could do this. He would do this! He could do anything if it was for Thena. Thena, he repeated to himself as he reached for the doorknob, Thena, Thena, Thena.

As soon as he touched the doorknob, it was no longer locked, and flew open. Thena tumbled into the room, straight into his chest as he caught her. Both of their flashlights fell and rattled on the ground as they held onto each other.

"Gil!" Thena gasped into his shirt, burying her face in it as soon as she knew it was him. "I-I-I didn't--I-I thought-!"

"It's okay, it's okay," he gulped, holding her as tight as he could without hurting her. It was really Thena in his arms, small and warm, blonde hair under his chin. His tears came again, and he didn't force them away, "you're really here."

Thena held onto him just as tightly, clawing at the back of his shirt so she could hold fistfuls of it. "I-I turned around and you were gone--just gone! And I tried shouting for you but I couldn't hear anything around me but silence. And then I thought I saw this--th-this thing-!"

"It's okay, I'm here," he whispered. He couldn't process any of what she was saying right now. All he could think about was the comfort of having his Thena in his arms again.

Slowly, they released one another. Thena sniffled, laughing as she put her hands on his cheeks. "I'm supposed to be the one here for you."

He laughed as well, just as watery and tearful. He put his hands on her cheeks as well, "I can be here for you, just this once."

She leaned into him again as he kissed her.

"You two okay?!"

Thena pulled back and picked her flashlight up first. She shone it around the room, "where are we?"

Gil frowned as she handed him his flashlight as well. "We're on the ground floor, in that side room we checked out first thing tonight."

"The ground floor?" she repeated, looking completely baffled. "We were on the third floor. I-I felt something pull me and I thought it was you, then I was in this completely other room. I was trying to find my way back to you in the hall."

Nice try, ghost creep; Gil took her hand, weaving their fingers together. He could carry his flashlight in his mouth if he had to.

"Gil," Thena continued to frown as he guided them back towards the entrance, "I didn't go down any stairs. We can't possibly be downstairs again."

"It's okay, Thena," he reassured her blindly. It didn't matter. None of it mattered, now that his fear was lifting. He waved as a flashlight circled from where the door was. "I got her!"

Collective sighs of relief were had. Ikaris was the first to bark at them, "what the hell, Thena?! You nearly scared the big guy half to death--that's not funny!"

"Shush," Sersi soothed the beast beside her, as she always did. "We're just glad you're both okay."

Druig and Makkari gave them both more curious looks, "where the hell were did you go?"

"I-" Thena looked at each of them, seeming completely stunned. "I don't know."

"Doesn't matter," Gil spoke up, more sure of this now than he had been about anything all night. "We're getting out of here--now."

He pushed through them, pulling Thena to the door to the outside, hand in hand. He could hear their friends packing up all the equipment behind them.

"Yappin' orders at us now, is he?" he could hear Ikaris gripe behind them.

"Stop it, they've been through enough." How did Sersi put up with him?

Finally outside, Gil took a deep breath. He put his hands on Thena's cheek again, urging her to do the same. She did, but she looked up at him. "Really Gil, I thought I was making my way back to you. I didn't even see any stairs, there's no way I could have-"

"We'll figure it out later," he resolved. They could do that in a safe place, where there was overhead lighting, and a warm mug of her favourite tea. Maybe he'd even have a blanket around her shoulders and massage her feet. "All that matters is you're safe."

Thena's face shifted to something like guilt. She looked down at their joined hands. "I thought I saw you."

"What?"

"What lured me away," she admitted quietly, and maybe with the first bit of true fear he had heard her voice all night. "I thought I saw you in one of those other rooms. That was what made me follow...whatever it was in there."

It had lured him the same way. But, again, that could wait until they were in a brightly lit space with firmly locked doors.

Gil kissed her forehead and pulled her into his arms. "I found you again, so it doesn't really matter."

"Hm," she sighed, nuzzling her face into his chest again. "I knew I'd find you, I guess you finding me is okay, too."

Ah, his invincible Thena. She was the truly unshaken of the two of them. But he had to admit, he was assured by tonight that he had what it took to square up if he really needed to. If it was for the woman he loved, at least.

[genopaint]

Week 43 is hot off the presses! Check it out!!

As always you can follow me on twitter where they’re posted daily

And read more info on each of them below the cut

Daily Dragon #301 - Mathrus

I wanted to do this a while back but the design is kind of tough to draw. But I figured it'd be perfect to dig back up a true creepypasta "dragon" of sorts for October! If you don't know who this is, I recommend watching this great video! Volume warning

Daily Dragon #302 - Clownbold

Small, goofy lizards that love playing pranks and being overly silly. They can be extremely mischievous, stealing things from travlers or causing general chaos when they appear in groups

Daily Dragon #303 - Drakeling

Teeny tiny baby dragons freshly hatched from their eggs. Their tiny wings struggle to lift them off the ground. As they get older, they never grow legs or anything, just larger wings to carry their growing bulbous body

Daily Dragon #304 - Pseudodon

Well, since it's Halloween... Why not draw one of my dragons that LOVES dressing up as other dragons?

And the Shiny Version, of course :)

If you don't recall, this was the Dragon Type finale to a Fakemon challenge where you would do a Fakemon for each type based on people's suggestions. Very fun challenge!

Daily Dragon #305 - Bananusaur

Thank you all so much for your votes! That's the end of October! I can't believe Halloween is already over, so sad. But I hope you all had a good one!

Here's the results:

Bananusaur - 2 Votes Gorodin - 2 Votes Galathia the Famished One - 1 Vote Mimic Dragon - 1 Vote Jiangshi Dragon - 1 Vote Weredragon - 1 Vote Sunrise Beast - 1 Vote Buggodon - 1 Vote Plantodon - 1 Vote Drakeling - 1 Vote Clownbold - 1 Vote

This time the tie breaker was done by a friend of mine :)

I actually liked a LOT of the dragons I made this month. I loved Buggodon, Terrasaur, I thought the Golem Dragon was really strong imo. But ultimately, idk man that Feral Knife-Wing just REALLY stuck out to me! Idk why

We're coming close to the end of the challenge everyone! I plan on riding it out until the very last day and even have an idea of what I'll be doing for the end. Thank you all again for your love of this whole project and I hope you look forward to the last 61 or so dragons!

Daily Dragon #306 - Yggdrasil

The protector of the forest. Some of the notable creatures that live within Yggdrasil, which he can call out to help fight are a small dragon and an eagle!

Daily Dragon #307 - Hammer Dragon

These hard-headed beasts can be incredibly destructive. If one rampages through a city, it can do serious damage to buildings. While their armored heads slow them down, they can still run surprisingly fast and do damage with their talons, too!

This is a redraw of THIS hammer dragon from 2019! I've been trying to tackle this one for a hot minute now. In fact, I think some of the dragons in this challenge were originally remakes of this guy before they deviated. But I think this attempt I really made something I like :)

[wrestlezaynia]

"Trick or and Treat."

Summary: Sami and Kevin attend Becky's Halloween party dressed as each other. Just a short little one-shot for Halloween. Enjoy! 🎃

Sami and Kevin get invited to a Halloween party. Neither men feel like dressing up, so they decide to keep it simple and go as each other.

Sami arrives fashionably late as usual, wearing a KO shirt and a pair of basketball shorts. His crimson locks tied atop his head in a messy bun concealed by a short spiky wig resembling Kevin's hairstyle. Many of their mutual friends and co-workers had mistaken him for Kevin which Sami found hilarious as the room erupts with laughter.

Meanwhile, Kevin is on the other side of the room when he hears the distinct sound of Sami's laugh, he could recognize it anywhere as he excuses himself to search for Sami, eager to show him his costume.

Like Sami, Kevin is wearing a SZ shirt with pants that are tight fitting and not nearly as comfortable, but he figured it's only for one night so he'd grin and bear it. It'll be worth it to see the look on Sami's face.

As if sensing Kevin's presence, Sami turns around and is met with an unforgettable sight. "I always wondered what you'd look like as a redhead." Sami quips, letting his eyes wander. Paying particularly close attention to Kevin's pants, hugging him in all the right places. "It looks good on you." He adds with a shy smile.

Kevin smirks as Sami checks him out, stroking his already massive ego. "I can honestly say, you've never looked sexier to me." Kevin quips back, a playful grin tugging at his lips. "And you finally got a haircut!" He adds, playing with the faux spiky wig Sami is wearing.

Sami's breath catches in his throat, Kevin's touch sends shivers down his spine. "Is it weird I'm turned on right now?" He asks, breathless.

Kevin can feel the sexual tension building between them as he snatches Sami's hand and leads him up the staircase.

"Sami, Kevin, are ye two havin' a good time?" Becky calls after the amorous couple, watching them ascend to the top of the staircase.

Sami nods, out of breath after Kevin dragged him up the stairs. "Thanks for inviting us, we're having a lovely ti-" Sami's sentence is cut short when Kevin kisses his lips, closing the door behind them.

Meanwhile, Seth approaches behind Becky after having witnessed the French-Canadian lovebirds migrate to somewhere more private. "Guest room?" Seth asks Becky knowingly.

Becky nods in response with an amused grin. "Guest room."

"They're like bunnies!" Seth remarks, shaking his head.

Becky leans back on Seth, his arms embracing her from behind. "They make me believe in true love." She replies softly, peering at Seth over her shoulder. "If anyone's goin' t' make it, it's those two."

A/N: You can read my previous fic here, thanks for reading as always!

[turnaboutspoiler]

I still have some suspicions about Rollo getting his own card and becoming playable character...

Warning! Spoilers for book 7

I really do think GloMas is more than just another Halloween event.

Personaly I consider it as some kind of a "bridge" between Books 6 and 7. I don't remember we've ever had an event which was so connected with the main story. GloMas implies you to know the UMs of 90% of participating characters as you already read 6 chapters and there's no point in hiding them, BUT it never shows or even mentions Silver, Sebek, or Malleus' UMs (though Sebek's lightning would be really helpful in the battle). Also the true natures of some characters (like Jamil f.e.) are shown, though it can be spoilers for someone who hasn't read the 4th Book. Not to mention Idia's part in the story. His whole speech about being an expert in certain field and his understanding fo Rollo's situation is actually a huge spoiler for Book 6 (even if it doesn't tell you the whole thing about Ortho).

So my point is Rollo may actually be an important character in future main story!

The situation we're in now is pretty shity. The whole Sage Island fell asleep and the only awaked characters are Silver, Sebek, Yuu and Ortho. The last one made a smart decision to ask for help outside the island. STYX is a powerfull organization but Papa Shroud said that even them don't know much about Malleus' power and how it works. So is there another powerfull someone outside the damage area? Yes. Rollo.

Don't get me wrong, I don't compare one student to an ancient organization, but Rollo is a really strong mage. Back in GloMas Malleus even said that he felt scared for a moment because of him. Rollo also has an experience in fighting Malleus, he felt his power, he knows it (I understand that normal Mal and OB Mal are like two different things but the magic's nature is still the same). Moreover, Silver, Sebek and Idia (who's gonna to wake up sooner or later*) know Rollo and his abilities, especially Idia.

So I really do hope Rollo's gonna come back, though it seems impossible even for me lol. But some time ago we thought event character having their own card is impossible, sooo...

---

Giving him a card also can mean that there's gonna be a battle where you have to use Rollo to fight, like we had damn towers back in Book 6 or battle maps in Book 7.

Maybe it's just me who wants Rollo to come back, but I like thinking about stuff like that. Anyway, thank you for attention!

*I haven't read B7P6 yet, but I know Idia shows up at the end, though I dk the curcamstances (dream or reality), pls don't spoil it for me!!

[eleanor-bradstreet]

Let Me Be Your Anchor

Chapter 2: The Masquerade

Benedict Bridgerton x Sophie Beckett An Offer From a Gentleman reimagined Chapter rating: G Word count: 8.1k Masterpost Previous chapter Next chapter

Author's Notes: THANK YOU for your incredible patience while I took forever to write this next chapter. It's the most daunting one in the whole story for me (and potentially the longest), and my summer has been full of travel and distractions. But I'm committed to keeping this story rolling! I do need to write chapter 3 which should be comparatively short, and then chapters 4-15 are already written and just need tweaking. Expect more frequent installments soon, though I do need a bit of time to focus on a Halloween fic for y'all 😉

As a reminder, text in italics are quotes from AOFAG and are the work of Julia Quinn.

Lastly, if we're manifesting things for Benophie in the show, the song I imagine them waltzing to at the masquerade is the VSQ cover of Young and Beautiful - it's so mysterious and romantic and gives voice to Sophie's anxieties. Enjoy 💙

Sophie was no stranger to courage. It was courage that had bolstered her through her lonely childhood at Penwood Park. Courage that enabled her to face each morning knowing she would most likely be subject to Araminta’s abuse. But what drove her to sneak into the Bridgerton masquerade was something different. Courage was an element of it, but she also had the odd and wonderful sensation that she was somehow destined to attend. A sort of magnetism pulling her back to Genevieve’s shop then down the street to the wisteria-clad manse glowing with candles in every window under a starlit night. 

It had proven surprisingly easy to accomplish her ruse. She had dressed Cressida in her iridescent mermaid costume then helped Araminta into a garish Elizabethan gown. Both of them fussed and snipped at her, demanding assistance and criticizing when it was provided. Lord Cowper kept his ensemble comparatively simple with a black horned mask that Sophie found to be an accurate reflection of his true character. Soon enough all of them bundled into their carriage, leaving her alone for the evening. Sophie knew to make for the modiste’s shop as quickly as she could, and only dithered when it came to selecting the shoes Gen had told her to bring. Neither of her sorry two pairs would suffice for a ball which meant borrowing a pair from her employers. She felt safer using Cressida’s except they all proved too large, to the point Sophie knew she would be tripping over herself. Araminta’s shoes fit comparatively well but her stomach lurched at the thought she may discover they had been taken. She reminded herself that she was the one tasked with cleaning them so she could easily replace them once she returned. Memories of a stinging slap dealt that morning solidified her resolve and she selected a pair of silk slippers in a pale blue-grey with diamond clips that complemented the silver gown she knew was waiting for her.

Wrapped in a cloak, she had scurried to Gen’s door and the proud smile on her friend’s face gave her a burst of excitement for what was to come. The modiste slipped her into the finished gown, somehow impossibly more breathtaking than it had been before. Sophie couldn’t tear her eyes away from the mirrors in the shop, bewitched by how the fabric caught the light. Gen had procured all the trappings, outfitting her with elbow length silk gloves, starry earrings and jewels for her hair which she helped to coif atop her head in an elaborate style. She even swiped rouge on her cheeks and stain on her lips, something Sophie had never tried before, and by the time she was done Sophie didn’t recognize her reflection even before the demi-mask was fitted over her eyes. She was an elegant silver stranger and one who looked every bit deserving of entry to a ball.

With a kiss on the cheek Genevieve sent her out into the night and closed shop to attend a party of her own, the likes of which Sophie could only guess at. Though her heart was pounding as she treaded the cobblestones up to Bridgerton House, she knew it was from excitement as much as nerves, and when she was waved into the main hall without question, it nearly stopped altogether. It was a sight far better than she had imagined. A candlelit scene of ivory grandeur with masked guests milling across the lacquered floor and up the grand staircase, dancers in the center and towers of treats and champagne to each side. It felt as if she had stepped into a dream and she never wanted to wake up.

She was knocked from her reverie by a young lady who appeared at her side, costumed as a Grecian muse. “My, what a beautiful dress!” She commented.

Sophie swallowed, suddenly fearful that her very voice may betray her identity, but instinctively she responded. “Thank you.”

When the girl only smiled and moved away, she breathed a sigh of relief. Who here could possibly recognize her voice aside from the Cowpers? She scanned the room but they were nowhere to be found. The lady who had spoken to her was at a table by the wall selecting a dance card. Not wanting to attract suitors, Sophie moved past the cards and weaved her way toward the nearest refreshments. Her eyes were so fixed on the array of delicacies that she failed to register how many heads turned to watch her.

The tiered display before her boasted a variety of sweets unlike any Sophie had ever seen. Candies and fruits, chocolates and tarts, even ice cream were all for the taking. Until that moment the only treat she had ever eaten was marzipan, a controversial candy that both her father and the Cowpers kept on hand for guests but despised themselves and so were none the wiser when she snuck pieces. Spoiled for choice, she seized a raspberry tart and had to fight from moaning at its rich sweetness. Then she nibbled on a chocolate, then a lemon cake before she stopped herself, realizing it would be unladylike to gorge herself and thereby risk revealing that she did not belong. She switched to a flute of champagne, another luxury she had never sampled before but quite enjoyed, and began to move about the perimeter of the room. 

The sea of costumes was so varied and elaborate, Sophie felt confident she did not stand out too drastically. Among the women there were queens and faeries, flowers and creatures of myth, all hidden behind demi-masks or veils. The gentlemen presented as an array of devils and jesters, satyrs and knights if they weren’t simply wearing their tails and a mask. Sophie listened in on their snippets of conversation. Courtship gossip among the women and business among the men. The young ladies whispered their opinions of the bachelors and the bachelors largely stayed silent unless they were mumbling about retiring to the smoking room. Behind them in the center of the hall were the dancers, swishing over a bee motif painted onto the parquet floor. The song was a sprightly one, spurring couples to hop around their partners while grasping hands and looping arms in a complex sequence. Sophie was transfixed, marveling at how it reminded her of a music box come to life. Everything was a feast for the senses: the twinkle of the candles, the strings of the musicians, the bubbles that tickled her tongue and the silk that wrapped around her skin. This was the life she had read about in Whistledown. This was the life she could have had as her father’s daughter if things were ever so slightly different.

A footman collected her empty glass and she felt herself calming. But that calm was immediately shattered when she noticed not one, not two, but three young gentlemen approaching her from various points in the room. It was then she realized that card or no, they would ask her to dance. It was also when she remembered that she did not know how to dance. And it was then that she began to chastise herself for forgetting this crucial fact before sneaking into a ball. She had been so caught up in the thrill of simply observing the masquerade and so used to being overlooked that she had not contemplated the possibility that a man may ask her to dance. If she attempted to, it would immediately become obvious that she was an imposter. Her mind started to race, eyes pinging between the three admittedly handsome gentlemen who drew closer and closer, looking at her as if she were a piece of meat and they were starving lions. There was nothing for it - she would have to hide. Backing away as gracefully as she could, she scurried around a cluster of guests, lifted two more flutes of champagne and darted down a hall where open french doors promised a swift escape.

---

[Shift to Benedict’s POV as written at the beginning of Chapter 2 of AOFAG. He is begrudgingly attending the masquerade, aggravated that he cannot be distinguished from his brothers. 

…he sometimes wished he were considered a little less a Bridgerton and a little more himself.

Violet asks him to dance with Penelope who is unfortunately dressed as a peacock. On his way, he is cornered by rude debutantes.

“A Bridgerton!...Which are you? No, don’t say. Let me guess. You’re not the viscount, because I just saw him. You must be Number Two or Number Three.”]

Grimacing his way out of yet another insulting and inane conversation, Benedict tucked himself into a corner under the stairs. He should have pushed forward to go humor Penelope Featherington but he had lost sight of her and he didn’t know if he would be able to bite his tongue through one more chance interception by an air-headed debutante or her mama. All of these ladies simpering over a man who they could not name while their mothers’ half-smiles betrayed that they saw him as little more than a consolation prize now that his titled brother was taken. He pitied them, knowing it was what they were all raised to do. But he also pitied himself for being the focus of their attentions. He supposed it was inevitable that he would find himself playing the marriage mart one day and it was precisely as miserable as he had imagined it would be, if not more. But having failed in his pursuit of art, the one thing that had stirred true and enduring passion within him, what else was he supposed to do? Perhaps a wife would make him feel grounded, grant him a new sense of purpose. But none of the young ladies he had met throughout the painfully long London season had been able to produce any feeling in him that was even a fraction of what he felt when he daubed oils on canvas, or sketched a flower, or studied a Turner sky.

With a rueful smirk he wondered if he would fail at becoming a husband too. He hadn’t the merits to get into the Royal Academy without a bribe; perhaps he didn’t have the merits to succeed at the marriage mart either. As eager as the women were to throw themselves at his feet, he didn’t know if he could hide his true feelings well enough to make it to an altar. Feelings of disappointment, lack of inspiration, and invisibility. The dreadful suspicion that he was not destined for the productive life of artistry he had always imagined. He was only a Bridgerton, one of many, and the most he could hope to achieve was some form of domestic happiness, if any woman would tie herself to such an empty shell of a man. 

His stomach sank as he heard his surname giggled in a nearby pack of debutantes. It was all too much, he needed fresh air. As he turned toward the back hall he felt an odd tingling sensation in his limbs and all of his focus seemed to narrow on the french doors. Perhaps he had drunk too much, perhaps it was too hot in the room, but it was not an unpleasant feeling. Rather, it was a feeling of certainty. Certainty that he must go outside and his feet were itching to carry him there. He did not protest and in a moment he was through the doors and in the cool air of the back garden. 

On instinct he walked toward the massive elm tree, planning to rest on the swings hanging from its branches. Scattered torches and a pearlescent full moon helped to illuminate the garden, making it a peaceful respite from the crush of people inside. He assumed he was alone but realized he was mistaken when he rounded the rose bushes and beheld an odd sight. It was a woman standing on the paving stones with her back to him. She was dressed in a silver gown, antiquated in style but made of the most mesmerizing fabric that seemed to absorb the very moonlight and make her glow. Her head was turned toward a large window of the house through which could be seen the dancing couples inside. She was mimicking them, slowly, jerkily, raising her arms and stepping to and fro with an invisible partner, stumbling every few steps and then hissing at herself as she tried to match the movements once again. It was clear she was trying to learn the dance and failing spectacularly.

Benedict couldn’t tear his eyes away. Even without seeing her face he could tell she was a beauty. But more than that, she was the most curious creature he had come across at any event of the ton. So many questions immediately arose. Who was she? How atrocious had her dancing master been? Why wasn’t she chaperoned?  Whatever the story was, he simply had to know it.

He stepped closer and cleared his throat, hoping not to frighten her.

“Are you in need of a partner?”

“Oh!” Instantly she whipped around and nearly jumped a foot in the air. 

Benedict’s breath caught in his throat. He had been right about her beauty, it was evident even behind her demi-mask. But it wasn’t simply the trappings of her stunning gown, glimmering jewelry or scarlet lips. It was innate, some kind of light that animated her from within. It called to him like a lighthouse across a stormy sea and he was transfixed. He had never experienced such a powerful sensation upon first seeing a woman. Sophie stuttered, embarrassed to have been discovered tromping around in the garden and nervous that her behavior was about to reveal her as a trespasser. The fact that her inquisitor was tall, dark and handsome was also causing her mind to stall. She offered a meager explanation. “I…I am not familiar with this step, so I was…trying to learn.”

Her voice was the sweetest music Benedict had ever heard. It made him feel weightless, electrified. Akin to how his favorite landscapes left him gaping in awe, but even more visceral. He realized he was staring at her, agog, and snapped himself back to attention. “And you did not want to ask any of the gentlemen inside to teach you?”

“I didn’t want to seem silly. Though I suppose, I have already failed at that.” She dropped her eyes and blushed and Benedict felt heat surge through his own skin at seeing its beautiful hue. What was it about her that made him falter when every other young lady made him want to run? Who on earth was she?

“I don’t recognize you. The same array of people always come to these parties.”

“Ah, then my disguise is working well.” She arched a brow with a mischievous little grin. 

Benedict felt his stomach flip with delight. “What is your name?”

Sophie prickled. She would need to be crafty with her answers to maintain her anonymity. The consequences of being discovered were dire, but perhaps that was what gave it an undeniably exciting edge. She had learned to hide herself in plain sight with the Cowpers. Surely this wouldn't be much harder. “Is a degree of mystery not the purpose of a masquerade?”

His lopsided smile set her at ease. He wouldn’t interrogate her; he was amiable.

“Very true. So you are going to make me guess?”

“I think it would be a fruitless endeavor.”

Benedict marveled at the beautiful stranger as the intrigue grew deeper. She was the first debutante who had reacted to him with anything other than fawning desperation. She was playful. She was a breath of fresh air.

He stepped closer, folding his arms as he looked her up and down. “Well, you have already given me a significant clue. A young lady in society who does not know the quadrille. That is unique indeed.” She straightened her mask and he noticed her unadorned wrist. “And no dance card. You are truly committed to remaining as anonymous as possible.”

“All in the spirit of the event.” She turned quickly and walked to a nearby table where two flutes of champagne sat unattended. She drank down the remnants of one a bit too eagerly, betraying her nerves.

“Is someone joining you?” Benedict wondered if he had interrupted the flirtations of another suitor. If so, the man was a fool to take his eyes off such a creature for even a moment.

Sophie followed his gaze to the second glass and felt herself flush at being caught indulging so brazenly. She picked it up and carried it back to him. Now that he knew she could not dance, she could relax and enjoy his conversation at least.

“You have joined me, Mister…?”

He accepted the glass and huffed a laugh. “Oh come now, my disguise is not nearly as good as yours. You don’t have to be so coy.”

The woman continued to stare at him blankly and the puzzle of her grew infinitely more bewildering. Could it be possible that she truly did not recognize him? Even if this was her first event among the ton, she could not have failed to hear his name on every other woman’s lips as they chased him through the ballroom. Nor could she be so ignorant about her hosts. They were at his bloody house after all.

His brow knitted in disbelief. “You truly do not know who I am?”

“There you are!” A voice called out suddenly.

Sophie’s stomach lurched into her throat. She’d been found out. She’d be thrown into the street, and tomorrow probably into jail for stealing Araminta’s shoes, and–

A second man marched around the rose bushes also in tails and a black demi-mask, shorter and broader than the first but also remarkably handsome. He stomped up to confront the other.

“Mother has been looking all over for you. You weaseled out of your dance with Penelope and I had to take your place.”

The taller man smirked. “And did that put you out terribly, brother?”

Sophie looked from one man to the other. Even under their demi-masks, the familial relationship was more than obvious, and she realized in a blinding flash that they must be the famed and coveted Bridgerton brothers. But which brother was her visitor? Benedict. He had to be Benedict. She sent a silent thank you to Lady Whistledown, who’d once written a column completely devoted to the task of telling the Bridgerton siblings apart. Benedict, she recalled, had been singled out as the tallest. Sophie began to assess him anew, the most eligible bachelor in the ton. Remembering that Gen had shared a dalliance with him, she could understand the appeal.

“It was better than any of the alternatives, I must say,” The man who must have been Colin Bridgerton shrugged. “If you flee the party and leave me to that pack of she-devil debutantes, I swear I shall exact revenge to my dying day.”

Benedict laughed and Colin turned to Sophie with a start, realizing that they were not alone. “Oh pardon, present company excluded. I apologize, Miss.”

He bowed politely and she returned her best curtsy.

“No offense taken, sir.”

The annoyance melted out of his eyes - a captivating shade of blue - and his voice grew silky as he stepped toward her. “Might I request an introduction?”

“I doubt you’ll meet with success.” Benedict snickered. “I would like one as well but the lady is committed to the spirit of the event and will not share her name.”

Colin frowned at her playfully. “Not even a false one?”

Sophie grinned, enjoying their little game. She had never received so much attention from any member of the upper class, much less two suave and flirtatious bachelors. It made her bold. “If you really insist, I suppose I could tell you something.”

“But not the truth?” Benedict asked.

“This isn’t a night for truth.”

Colin leaned in with a devilish smirk. “My favorite kind of night.”

Benedict rolled his eyes and tugged his brother upright. “Shouldn’t you be with Penelope?” 

At this, the younger grew flustered. “I…well…”

“It would be the honorable thing to do, making sure the young lady is asked to more than just one dance this evening.” At the end of his argument Benedict folded his bottom lip into an exaggerated pout and Sophie felt her insides flutter.

Colin seemed possessed by a new sense of chivalry. “Very well, I’ll take my leave. And fight back through the pack of ravenous wolves…”

“Wolves?” Sophie laughed, turning to Benedict. “Is that what drove you out of doors as well, sir?”

“I suspect it is.” Colin grinned and clapped a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Our mother would like nothing better than to see this one married off.”

“Brother…” Benedict’s grip tightened around the champagne flute.

“Would you take pity on the poor, long-suffering woman and chase him up the aisle?” Colin shot a wink at Sophie.

“Have you been at the tea again?” Benedict grumbled under his breath, staring daggers.

Sophie couldn’t remember being so entertained before. “I believe I shall have to get to know him better first, and take the full measure of his character before any chasing shall commence.”

Her co-conspirator released a loud sigh. “Then alas, I fear he may be found wanting and remain a bachelor forever.”

“Are you quite finished?” Benedict snipped.

Sensing the end of his patience, Colin slapped him on the back and desisted. “I am.” He turned to Sophie with a beaming smile and bowed once more. “Enjoy your evening.” Then he was gone as quickly as he had appeared, leaving them alone in the garden.

Sophie allowed a giggle to escape. “It is charming to see two brothers who get on so well.”

Benedict took a large swig of champagne. “You’d call that getting on?”

“I would.” Sophie smiled softly. “I have no siblings myself but it’s clear the jesting stems from a place of love.” Indeed, Sophie felt herself surrounded by love at this house. A love of family and community that she had always longed for but always been denied. It was bittersweet to be wrapped in it, knowing it would only last for one evening.

He quirked a brow. “Another clue. She has no siblings.”

“That cannot be that rare.” Sophie spluttered, chastising herself for her misstep.

“It certainly narrows the options.”

“Well, it is the last thing I shall share about my identity.” She set her chin defiantly and Benedict found it to be quite the most adorable expression. Now he was determined to know everything about her, however long he had to play her game.

He stepped toward her again, lowering his voice. “Why so many secrets?”

“I told you, this entire night is meant for secrets. Though I believe I have uncovered yours.” Sophie said with an enigmatic smile, truly warming to her role as a mysterious stranger. 

“Oh yes?”

“I know who you are.”

Benedict shrugged. “I assumed as much.”

“I didn’t at first,” she confessed.

“What gave me away?”  With no discernable parents shoving her in his direction, Benedict wondered how she had deduced it.

Sophie grinned, victorious. “The fact that you are here with your brother. That you look so alike. And are both being hounded by the young ladies.”

“We look alike even with masks on?” 

“Even with masks,” she nodded. “Lady Whistledown writes about the Bridgerton brothers quite often, and she never passes up an opportunity to comment upon how alike you look.”

Ah, she was a Whistledown reader, though that didn’t help him parse her identity among the young ladies of the ton. He had never read the scandal sheet himself but was unsurprised that it contained discussions of the Bridgerton resemblance. He had heard it all his life, how similar he was to his two eldest brothers. The three of them were often called by the others’ names, even by their own mother on occasion, with everyone typically defaulting to assuming they were all Anthony, the Viscount. He and Colin had used it to their advantage from time to time, wielding perceived status to get preferential treatment or making handshake deals to embroil Anthony in some ludicrous business venture. He of course could see the clear distinctions between each of them but it seemed society could not. If anything, he knew he most closely resembled his late father and it caused the greatest pain when someone slipped and called Benedict by his name. It was all something he had learned to live with. He loved his family dearly but his visibility as a Bridgerton often made him feel invisible as Benedict.

He steeled himself to be wounded again by this lady in silver. “And do you know which brother I am?”

“Benedict,” she smiled brightly. His heart skipped hearing his name on her lips. In the soft glow she cast, he finally felt seen. “If indeed Lady Whistledown is correct when she says that you are the tallest among your brothers.”

He swallowed to try and hide his excitement. “You’re quite the detective.”

She shrugged. “I merely read a gossip sheet. It makes me no different from the rest of the people here.”

He wanted to chuckle at how she voiced his precise thoughts aloud. Perhaps she was an enchantress with the power to read minds. Whoever she was, dream or reality, he needed to know more. Downing the rest of his champagne, he set the glass aside and moved closer, trying to study the contours of her face and color of her eyes behind her mask.

“And if Lady Whistledown were here and saw you tonight, would she know your identity?”

The woman backed away, playfully but pointedly drifting across the grass toward the elm tree. “I’m so well disguised that no one would recognize me right now.”

He continued his pursuit. “What if you removed your mask? Would she recognize you then?”

“I’m not going to answer that.” She walked backward slowly, always staying paces ahead of him. 

He returned her wry smile. “I didn’t think you would, but I had to ask nonetheless. Dare I ask what else you know about me from Whistledown?”

“Are you fishing for compliments?”

Sophie’s nerves were running haywire at being chased with such evident intent by a gentleman. And not just any gentleman, but Benedict Bridgerton himself. She had never planned to flirt nor attract the attention of gentlemen at the ball. She had only wanted to observe it, to soak in the atmosphere, to forget the life of Sophie Beckett for a few hours. But now the most coveted man in the ton - a man far more charming and beautiful than she had presumed - was stalking toward her with hungry eyes. She should have been terrified at being discovered or even compromised, but she wasn’t. She was enjoying this. Perhaps she could blame the champagne for the heated, buzzing feeling throughout her body but whatever it was, it left her heady with confidence and craving more.

Something bumped into the back of her legs and she turned to see that she was standing by a pair of swings hanging from the branches of the looming tree above. He had her cornered. But he was nothing but a gentleman as he held the swing steady and gestured for her to sit. With the volume of her skirt she could do little but perch on the seat and hold onto the ropes to keep her balance. He lowered himself onto the swing next to hers and rocked lightly to and fro with a cheeky glint in his eyes.

“If I cannot know anything about you, at least I might know what you know about me.”

Sophie pondered a moment. Her immediate thoughts were what Genevieve had shared. That he was sensitive, talented and good. But of course she could not reveal that she had learned such things. She had to rely on what had been reported in Whistledown, which had conveniently been confirmed by Colin. “Your name has not been seriously linked with any young lady, and your mother despairs of ever seeing you married.”

The way his shoulders slumped banished her assumption that he simply didn’t want to end a rakish bachelor lifestyle. The burden to marry weighed on him more heavily for some reason.

“The pressure has lessened a bit now that my brother’s gone and gotten himself a wife,” he explained.

“The Viscount?”

“Mmmm,” he nodded. “And anyway, I’m sure at some point I’ll find the lady suitable enough to keep my house and bear my children.” He kicked at the grass, dispirited.

“Among the ravenous wolves?” Sophie chuckled, trying to brighten the mood and coax the truth out of him. “It sounds as if that traditional sort of life would be unappealing to you.”

Benedict shook himself out of his ruminations and sat up straight. He felt so at ease with this mysterious guest that he had let the mask of debonair suitor slip. He must be cautious in revealing his true feelings especially if he hoped to secure her hand, the only one that was making the prospect of marriage seem in any way appealing. He spluttered, “Well…I only…”

She cut him off. “Do not worry about offending me, Mr. Bridgerton. I am not here to find a husband and I’d much rather have your honesty than your flattery.”

Who on earth was this miraculous woman? A young lady who was not scheming for a proposal but rather seeking to know him better. The first and only he had encountered in the marriage mart. He felt as if he had discovered a unicorn and effortlessly opened his heart to her. 

“I suppose there are other pursuits in life that interest me. To travel the Continent and see the artworks of the great masters. To seek out beauty in all its forms and capture it. To do something worthwhile with myself, have an occupation. Shocking as that may be, I feel that I would find it fulfilling.”

While his desires may have confused many of her peers, the lady in silver only smiled. “I think it’s admirable for anyone to hold an occupation. It shows a great deal of character, not to mention independence. And in this independent life of yours, there would be no room for a wife?”

“I didn’t say that,” he clarified. “I have never disdained romance, as it appears you do. If you’re not here to find a husband, then what are you here for?”

“To enjoy myself.”

“Simple enough,” he smirked.

“Yes,” she sighed. “If only I knew how to dance.” The pointed challenge in her eyes lit a spark within him. She was a smart little thing, a force to be reckoned with. He would not shy away. He bounced to his feet and stood before her.

“I would teach you gladly but be forewarned, I will teach you badly. I never took to it.”

Sophie laughed. “Have you two left feet, Mr. Bridgerton?”

“Why do you think I find myself still unmarried?”

“Surely your dancing skills cannot be that atrocious. Could it be you have some nefarious personality traits that are driving the women away?”

Benedict sniggered. “Hmmmm. Perhaps I am too rakish. Too predisposed to indulgences.”

“Does that not describe just about every gentleman in the ton?”

“Are you saying that I’m indistinguishable?” His lip folded into a hilarious pout again. 

Sophie was enjoying their sparring immensely. “I’m saying it must truly be your dancing that is to blame.”

Then he bent and extended his hand. “Let me show you and you can judge for yourself.”  

She rose with a rustle of silver skirts and allowed Benedict to guide her back across the lawn to the paving stones, the two of them walking in comfortable silence. She felt like a princess - a reckless princess - and so when he asked her to dance, she put her hand in his. And even though she knew that this entire evening was a lie, that she was a nobleman’s bastard and a countess’s maid, that her dress was borrowed and her shoes practically stolen - none of that seemed to matter as their fingers entwined. For this moment, at least, Sophie could pretend that this gentleman could be her gentleman. It was nothing but a dream, but it had been so terribly long since she’d let herself dream.

Standing across from the house window once more, they turned to face each other. Sophie swallowed hard, suddenly aware of how tall and how close he was. The moonlight shone behind him, cutting a striking silhouette with glinting pale blue eyes set behind his black mask. Never releasing her hand, he guided it into place.

“Put your hand here on my shoulder. Just a touch lower, there you are.”

Then his hands moved, one to her waist and one to extend their arms to the side. Sophie couldn’t help but shudder at the expanse of his grasp. 

Benedict dropped his voice, instructing gently. “Now, listen to the music. Do you feel it rising and falling?”

Drifting out from the house Sophie could hear the musicians’ strings playing something light and hopeful. She concentrated and began to sense its rhythmic pattern.

“I feel it.”

Benedict smiled. “Good. Now watch my feet and let me lead you. One, two, three; one, two, three.”

As if on queue Sophie stumbled after just a moment, tripping over Benedict’s feet. “Oh! I’m sorry!” 

His hold tightened around her to keep her from falling but he couldn’t help bursting into laughter. “See? I am an awful teacher. Perhaps you should return to watching the dancers inside. What are they doing now?”

Sophie couldn’t keep the smile from spreading across her own face, realizing she had never met such a good humored man. A nobleman who didn’t scold her for a misstep and even blamed himself instead. He was so playful, so easy to talk to. Despite the outrageous risk she was taking with this entire evening, she had never been more comfortable around a member of the gentry. She turned to peer into the ballroom and watched the flurry of dancing couples moving around one another. Their hands and arms entwined in a series of looping motions, palms meeting to raise over their heads before sliding back down to wrap around the ladies’ shoulders. 

Knowing they were entirely unsuited to the task and giggling at each other with mischief in their eyes, she and Benedict attempted to mimic - or rather mock - the dancers inside. They grasped at each other’s elbows and wrists, fumbling to change holds and laughing as they found themselves tied in ridiculous knots and unable to glide into the next motion. Benedict pranced like a peacock and overexaggerated a deep bend of the knee as the men inside artfully swept a leg behind themselves. Next, the ladies twirled, grasping the mens’ hands and floating in a circle to revolve around their backs. Benedict extended his hand with a flourish, Sophie took it and then began skipping like a child around him, skirts bunched in her fist. They were laughing so much she was sure the champagne was to blame, which was practically confirmed when she rounded Benedict’s other side and promptly tripped on her dress, pitching to the ground.

But he caught her, swiftly and easily moving to cradle her in his arms. Their laughter died away as they gazed at one another, catching their breath. For the first time Benedict was close enough to determine the color of her eyes - they were green. A deep emerald green that sparkled as richly as her silver costume. He was nearly overcome with their light and the feeling of how perfectly she fit in his arms. Barely keeping his wits about him, he lifted her gently back to her feet.

“Lord, I never expected to find the one person worse at dancing than me,” he chuckled, trying to tame the maelstrom of emotions swirling within.

The woman returned a shaky smile. “Well I hope it serves as a boost to your confidence.”

The tremor in her voice gave him a glint of hope. Could she be feeling the same way he did? Did she too sense an overwhelming connection between them? Something he was ready to label as destiny. She hadn’t spurned any of his advances. No indeed she had flirted back at him, toying and challenging, matching his wits and his energy. She was not eager to marry him for his family or position, she was able to pick him out among his brothers and she supported his dream to do more with his life than simply wile away in domesticity. She made him laugh, she made him feel alive, she made him feel visible. Everything he had been searching for and had abandoned hope of ever finding, all embodied by a nameless lady in silver who had appeared in his garden like a gift from the heavens. She was a star, and he wanted to pick her up and hang her in his sky to guide him. 

He stepped close and wrapped an arm around her waist, just wanting to hold her again. “Shall we try again? In earnest?”

Sophie was transfixed, something blooming inside her chest from the moment he caught her. This already exceptional night had taken so many unexpected turns. She had never expected to speak at length with any attendee of the ball, much less the most prized bachelor in society. And she certainly never expected a private audience with him for the whole evening, nor the feelings it would stir within her. So quickly he had banished her assumptions of what such a man would be like. He was nowhere near as snobbish as she imagined he had a right to be, nor was he the dour figure she had supposed when Gen told her he probably disdained attention. He was passionate, animated, with a comic disposition and a large heart. He disdained attention because he wanted more and felt out of place - feelings she could relate to very well indeed. He was good-natured, forgiving, gentle. And as if that weren’t enough, he was the most handsome man she had ever seen despite that she could only view half of his face beneath his mask. Though she knew the Bridgerton siblings were famed for their looks and she had only seen one brother to compare him to, she knew that Benedict would always have drawn her eye above all. 

She was in danger of losing her heart to him. She feared it may have already happened. But there was no happy ending to this story. She could not reveal herself nor enjoy his company for any longer than this one night. But with his arm around her and his blue eyes holding hers so warmly, she could not bring herself to care. The musicians inside were playing a new song, something resonant and soulful, full of longing and magic. She would fit an entire lifetime into this night.

“Alright, one last go.” Bringing one hand to his shoulder and lacing the other with his, she took her position and stared down at their feet again.

“Look up,” Benedict encouraged.

She shook her head. “I will stumble.”

“You won’t. I won’t let you. Look into my eyes.”

She followed his soft command and raised her eyes to meet his. Mesmerized, she couldn’t look away. She could barely breathe. She was dimly aware that they were moving, that he was guiding her through a waltz slowly and fluidly. Suddenly their feet knew precisely how to carry them. Benedict never blinked, determined never to let this silver blessing out of his sight or his arms until she understood how she had enchanted him. Everything around them was bathed in moonlight, making her shimmer like a precious jewel in his hands. 

“What do you feel?”

“Everything,” she breathed.

“What do you hear?”

“The music. I hear the music as I’ve never heard it before.” She moved light on her feet, the romantic call of the strings making it seem as if she were floating across the paving stones.

Benedict’s heart was pounding, desperate for her answer to his next question. “What do you see?”

Sophie froze, paralyzed by the impossibility of putting it into words. As their steps gently stopped and they stood inches apart, everything about him was thrown into sharp focus. She saw everything she had never dared to hope for. A man who showed interest, a man who was kind, a man who could free her from her miserable life. If only she was not who she was. Her skin tingled where he touched her, and the air grew thick and hot. This was desire, Sophie realized. This was what she’d heard fellow maids whispering about. This was what no gently bred lady was even supposed to know about. But she was no gently bred lady, she thought defiantly. She was a bastard, a nobleman’s by-blow. She was not a member of the ton and never would be. Did she really have to abide by their rules? 

As Benedict’s lips parted and his head lowered toward her, she knew he was moving to kiss her and she would allow it. She craved it. It was enough to ruin a reputation, but what sort of reputation did she have to begin with? She was outside society and she wanted one night of fantasy. One kiss to savor for the rest of her pitiful existence.

Their breaths gusted across each other’s skin, lips barely an inch apart. Sophie was certain her heart was thundering loud enough that he may hear it. The music swelled. She closed her eyes. Then she felt his long, slender fingers cup her face and begin to slip under the ribbon tying her mask. 

Alarm bells sounded in her mind and she lurched backward, bringing a hand to press her mask firmly to her face. She could not be discovered. Despite how everything in her body was crying out for him, she would not allow it. In the commotion a lock of her hair fell loose and dangled over her shoulder. After securing her mask she began trying to pin her hair back in place, fingers slipping in her silk gloves.

Benedict stood befuddled, watching her fumble with her gloves and hairpins. She was truly committed to not revealing her identity. A thought flashed through his mind that perhaps she was hiding some kind of deformity. At this point, he did not care. It would not make him feel anything less toward her and he was determined to woo her.

“Blasted things…” Sophie cursed under her breath as her hair continued to slip out of her grasp.

“Allow me.” Benedict reached forward and softly took her wrist, slowly sliding the glove down from her elbow to pull it off. Sophie stood trembling as he kept her hand in his and brushed his thumb across her knuckles, their skin meeting for the first time. Then he bent, keeping his eyes locked on hers as he pressed a deep, warm kiss to the back of her hand. Her breath hitched, feeling an electric current spider out from his lips across every inch of her skin. This was already a bold move but he took it even further, turning her hand over and lavishing her palm with another sensuous kiss - making his intentions clear without a single word.

“Who are you?” Benedict rasped. “I have to know.”

“I can’t say.” Sophie felt torn in two - her heart and body tugging her forward into his arms while her mind and reason held her back.

Benedict felt the heat rising under his collar. He didn’t want to learn her name simply to beat her at her game. He wanted it so that he could know who had stolen his heart so quickly and completely. So that he could keep her in his life and sing her praises. He would not end the evening without making his feelings known.

He gripped her hand tighter, pressing in close, his voice urgent. “I want to see you tomorrow. I want to call on you and meet your parents. Do you understand what I’m saying? I need to know you. I want…”

“Don’t say anything more! Please. Not another word.” Sophie cut him off, tears pricking at her eyes. This was all a mistake, a dreadful mistake. She never should have remained in the garden with Benedict, should never have flirted with him, should never have let it go this far.

“Then tell me your name,” he pleaded desperately. “Tell me how to find you tomorrow.”

The sobs were rising from her throat, anguished at how much pain she was causing them both. At how unfair it all was. “I…”

Her voice was drowned out by a booming clang from within Bridgerton House, followed by the guests inside erupting into cheers and laughter. 

“What is that?”

“Midnight. Time for the unmasking.” Benedict explained, turning to her with hopeful eyes.

“Unmasking?” Sophie’s mind whirred, horrified. No one had ever mentioned an unmasking. It wasn’t reported in Whistledown and Gen hadn’t warned her. Perhaps it was something that everyone of good breeding inherently knew about a masquerade. Clearly she was not one of them. She had been so wrong to attempt this, so ill-prepared for what would happen. Now she would be out of place for not revealing herself.

As she panicked over what to do, Benedict pulled off his own mask and her crisis deepened. He was beautiful. Impossibly more beautiful now that she could see the boyish mirth in his face, the inquisitive slant of his brow, the way his crystal blue eyes were framed by the most endearing creases, evidencing a lifetime of smiles.

Benedict’s hope deflated as the woman stared at him, stock-still. “Are you alright?”

“I have to go,” she choked, barely audible. Then she gathered her skirts in her hands, turned and fled into the house.

“Wait!” Benedict leapt after her, feeling like a man possessed. He could not lose her, the only woman who had stirred him to the depths of his soul. The only one who he could be prevailed upon to marry. She held his future. She held his heart. He couldn’t let them vanish. 

He tore back through the house, catching glimpses of her silver form sweeping around each corner. She was remarkably fast. He burst into the ballroom and had to scan to find her among the riot of costumes and noise. The candlelight glinted off her dress as she pushed steadily through the crowd, already halfway to the door, and he dove in after her. He abandoned any care of being polite and began shouldering his way past guests, even knocking into his brother Anthony who promptly began to admonish him but Benedict pressed on, deaf to anything but the chanting in his mind. No, no, no. He could not lose her.

Sophie dipped and sashayed around the crush of partygoers, moving as quickly as she could for the exit but not wanting to cause a scene. The genteel crowd proved their manners by parting easily as she passed. She cast glances back over her shoulder, seeing Benedict trying to catch up with her but people were less inclined to clear the way for a man. Her heart was in her throat, unsure if she could escape without being caught by Benedict or the Cowpers or anyone else who found her behavior curious. The large front doors were in sight and she turned one final time to see Benedict’s path blocked suddenly by a severe looking woman with a scarlet costume and a cane. She would make it. 

Barely maintaining composure, she slowed her pace as she approached the doors and nodded politely to the footmen who opened them and ushered her out into the cool night. She scurried down the stairs, mask still on her face as she began to soak it with tears. Confused and frantic, she gave over to her instincts which were drawing her away from Grosvenor Square and back to the modiste shop. Though she knew it was her only course of action and she knew she had let the entire evening get out of hand, she couldn’t help but feel fractures splintering her heart with each hurried footfall on the cobblestones.

Tagging: @angels17324 @bridgertontess @broooookiecrisp @secretagentbucky @eg-dr3amer3 @time-to-hit-the-clouds @lyta2323 @autumn-grace @sadprose-auroras @the-other-art-blog @yellowprimrose @colettebronte @heeyyyou @musicismyoxygen84 @faye-tale

[hinatastinygiant]

1 | Fool's Gold

Pairing: Bakugou x Fem!Reader

Pirate's Treasure Masterlist

"So, what do you think?!" you ask your grandfather, looking over the map that has recently come into your possession. "Is it real?"

Your grandpa, a well-rounded librarian, is always the first one you turn to after discovering something new on one of your expeditions. And this is something you are certain will catch his interest.

"It looks old. Real old. Where'd you find this?" He takes it from you to get a closer look.

"In India, at some museum. I got a tip about a secret passageway hidden inside one of the old temples. Led me right to the thing." You cross your arms, feeling pretty smug about yourself.

"This map of Tsiji," he continues, "is very outdated."

"And what about that red x? Right in the center. It can't be a coincidence. And it's not marked on any other maps."

"Hmmm." Grandpa turns his gaze back to you, and then looks at the map again.

"I don't know, Y/N. I think the only way to find out is by going there."

You take the map back, smiling, "Then, it's settled."

Grandpa places a hand on your shoulder, his expression stern.

"But, Y/N, if you're really set on finding the treasure, I must warn you. This island is swarming with pirates and cutthroats. I would go with you, but you know I can't. I would be a deadweight. You will need someone to watch your back. Someone strong, who can handle the trip."

"Grandpa, I appreciate the sentiment. I really do. But I can do this myself. I promise. Besides, pirates? Come on, when have you ever seen a pirate outside of some kid's Halloween costume?"

He chuckles, "Alright, Y/N. But please, be careful. You'll never know what might happen."

You grin and kiss him on the cheek, "I will, I promise."

The next day, you've packed everything you think you'll need. Grandpa gives you one final hug, wishing you luck on your trip. As you pull up to the harbor, you're shocked to see a large ship already docked, a crew of sailors waiting to help you aboard.

Once aboard, you join the crew in helping the ship depart, setting a course for the island. The trip will take about a week, and in that time, you learn all you can about the island you're sailing to.

A couple of days into your journey, you find yourself getting close to a sailor named Yoichi, the only one on the ship who will tell you anything about the island you're going to.

"There's all kinds of rumors," he explains vaguely as he shuffles a deck of cards in his hands.

"About what?" you hum in delight. For the first time, you're actually getting somewhere.

"All kinds. They say the island is guarded by an old, powerful spirit. And that those who find the treasure will meet a horrible fate.

"You mean, they die?" you ask.

"No, no," he shakes his head. "Worse than death."

"What could be worse than death?" you then continue to question him, but he only shrugs his shoulders. "Do you really believe the treasure is out there?"

"Isn't that what you're here to find out?" he scoffs.

"Have you ever heard of anyone finding the treasure?" you inquire.

"No."

"Do you know anyone who has?"

"No."

"Have you ever even seen this place?"

"No. Look, lady. I was hired to be on this boat and help sail you out here. That's it."

"Well, what do you know about the place we're going to?! I mean, you agreed to take the money for some curiosity, right?" you continue to press, getting equally as frustrated as him.

"Alls I know is the island's dangerous. Pirates have tried and failed. And the few that have returned have told tales of monsters and spirits, and some say the whole island's cursed."

"So then someone did find the treasure!" you exclaim, getting more and more excited by the second.

"Fine," he sighs. "There's a tale of a pirate captain rumored to have found the pirate treasure. But there's no telling whether that's actually true or not."

"If he found the treasure, wouldn't people know about it?" you think aloud.

"Not if he got cursed and lost the treasure," he explains.

"How'd he lose it?" you press.

"You'd have to ask him," he scoffs. "The story goes, he had the treasure, and he was on his way back to his ship when a storm hit. The captain and the crew abandoned the ship, leaving the treasure behind. Some say he got cursed. Others say he went crazy, and now wanders the island, looking for his lost treasure."

You stare out into the ocean, taking in everything the sailor has told you. You're not sure if you believe any of it. But you can't wait to get to the island and find out.

On the last day of the voyage, Yoichi approaches you as you stand by the railing.

"You better be prepared, princess," he says, looking out over the sea.

"Oh, so now you're showing your concern for me," you smile at him.

"I'm just warning you," he says, looking past you toward the water. "This island won't be like anything you've ever experienced. It's not like your normal, everyday beach vacation. You'll need to be careful."

"Good for me I can't remember the last time I went on a beach vacation," you grin wider.

"You'll regret those words soon enough."

You laugh, turning to lean your back against the railing, facing him.

"Look, I'll admit I'm a little nervous," you confess as you clutch the knife attached to your hip. "But I can manage."

"Good," he hums, then walks away.

You're not sure what to make of his warning, but you're determined to find out what's on that island, no matter what.

As the sun sets and the ship sails into a cove, you can finally see the island. Your grandpa's friend, Takehiko, then approaches you. "Sorry, Miss, but this is as far as I'm willin' to go. I've got no idea what's out there, but I wish you good luck. We'll wait for a month, and then we'll go back. If you're not back by then, we'll assume the worst. Be safe."

You shake his hand and nod, understanding. This isn't the first time you've done something like this. As an archaeologist, you've put yourself in more than a fistful of dangerous situations. "I will, Takehiko, thank you. For everything."

"Of course, kid. Take care of yourself."

With that, you pile your backpack onto a small boat and take off towards the island, ready for whatever is awaiting you. But as you near, a fog begins to cover the water. You try to push forward, but your motor won't work. You can't see, but the fog is so thick that it doesn't even feel like the ocean. It feels like you're floating in the sky.

Eventually, you make your way to land, climb out of the boat, and pull it up onto the sand. The fog is thick, and you can barely see the palm trees.

You decide to set up camp right there, so you pull out your tent and a lantern. But no sooner do you set up your tent, than the sky begins to darken. The fog dissipates, and the moon shines through. You sigh as you sit down beside your tent and stare up at the stars above you. What the hell have you gotten yourself into now? You're all alone out in the middle of nowhere and your only possible escape is your boat with no motor.

This is going to be an interesting adventure.

Pirate's Treasure Masterlist

[sirowsky-stories]

The Old Prince

Part 6

Author's Note: We're finally getting to the romance part! But, this is me, so there's also some tension.

Description: To prepare you both for the battles ahead, the time has come for you to meet the dragon and confront your fears.

Rating: Mature 18+ONLY Warnings: Monster Oberyn Martell x Female Reader, AU fic, obviously Halloween themed, reader cusses. Angst associated with past trauma. Explicit smut (piv, creampie) but romantic. Word Count: 6312 Author's Masterlist

   Somehow, taking Casper back to the Mackey farm is when it finally hits you with full force that you’re never gonna be able to go back to your old life. That no matter what happens with the spirits, your very existence has already been irrevocably altered.    You’re a slave to your own fate now, whatever that might be, leaving you no choice but to dance to this new tune, even though you neither know the words nor the melody. The only solace to be found being that at least you have a partner in this dance of destiny.

   He’s right there, always by your side, afraid to leave you alone for just about everything but the bathroom. So, when the horse is led away and you crumble in on yourself, he’s the one that holds you together. Not with false promises that everything will be alright, which no one can guarantee, but simply with the act of being there. With the silent but already proven commitment that he will continue to be there, no matter what.

   You’ve already prepared the house, putting everything away, throwing all the food out and turning the water off, so that if you ever do make it back, it’ll just be dusty and stale rather than destroyed by mold or frozen pipes.    Casper is the last stop before the journey back to the castle. The last remnant of the past for you to pack away.

   Once you’ve calmed, the two of you get back in your car and drive for twenty minutes to a spot in the woods where you’ll dump it, to be found by some hiker, probably.    You wonder what everyone will think. What conclusions they’ll draw from all these bizarre events involving you. If finding the abandoned vehicle will make them think that Oberyn’s taken you and that they were right all along to suspect him.

   But the true sadness of it all is that it doesn’t matter one bit what they might think. It’s completely irrelevant compared to the reasons behind your departure. These people that you called friends, neighbors, customers… all they are now are lives to be saved, no more or less important than everyone and everything else that lives.    Because it’s only the whole fucking world that’s in danger.

   You park the car in the middle of the dirt road. No need to hide it any further since it doesn’t matter how or when it’s found. You even leave the keys in the ignition.    It’s been snowing for the past two days, all the time you’ve spent making these preparations, so your boots sink into a full foot of fresh powder as you step out. It shines against the full moon that’s only just climbed over the hilltops, illuminating the otherwise so ominous woods, turning the landscape into something mystical. Ethereal, even.

   You’ve always been afraid of the woods in the dark, but now, when unknown beings might actually be watching you, your fear has been taken past its old limits.    Where you used to chastise yourself for twitching at every sound, you’re now forced to think of those sounds as potential threats, as real as the ground beneath your feet. In a cruel twist of reality, everything you’ve ever feared is now substantial and terrifying.

   Oberyn knows this, and he does his best to make you feel safe. But this time, he is the greatest source of your concern, so instead, he tries to keep his distance.

   “Are you sure it’s safe?” you ask for probably the tenth time.

   “Yes. There is no part of me that wishes you harm,” he reiterates, still so enduring and calm with you, despite your exaggerated disbelief.

   Because you do know, somewhere deep down, that he’s already proven that the dragon isn’t a threat to you anymore. But the thing is… you still haven’t seen that for yourself.    You know that he’s the one that saved you and brought you home after the spirits had attacked, but you were passed out for almost all of it. And the same goes for the two other times that you know you’ve been in the presence of the beast.

   There’s a disconnect between what you consciously know and what you can actually recall from your encounters with it, leaving an abyss of uncertainty sitting between you and the creature you’ve only glimpsed during times of intense stress.    But the only way to build a bridge across that abyss, is to meet the dragon. To stand eye to eye with it, once and for all, which is what’s about to happen now.

   “Are you ready?” he asks once you’ve stepped a little further away from the car.

   You hesitate, but he doesn’t push. He waits patiently while you take a deep breath, only nodding your agreement after you’ve gotten your breathing under control.

   “Remember, once I’ve changed, I can no longer speak to you. But you will know that it’s still me because I will always bow to you, my Valya.    Anything you ask of me, I will do.”

   As he finishes saying that, a golden shimmer appears in his eyes, and then it happens.

   His hair turns green even before his body starts to grow. The scales seem to rise from underneath his skin, standing upright as they cut through the dermal layers and then fall into place on top of them, in perfect symmetry, even as his mass doubles, over and over.    It’s quick and so smooth, feeling like less than a second’s passed before hands have become giant paws with equally giant claws, and that soft and kind face has been distorted into a massive pair of jaws and a horned skull behind them.

   You were so wrong.    He does resemble the traditional Asian dragons, with the long snakelike body, the radiant color and the hair, but that’s also where the common traits end.    The wings aren’t some small appendages on his shoulders, more like enormous, wide spans of what doesn’t look like skin at all, but instead more scales. Still green but transparent. Millions of them, like little diamonds, and probably just as sharp.

   There’s no funky looking moustache, pointy ears or doglike rounded nose either. Instead, you can’t even see his ears and his nostrils sit like black slits at the tip of his bony snout, scorching the air before him with each exhale.    But more than anything, it’s the entire image that somehow doesn’t fit with the pictures and tattoos you’ve seen.    He’s somehow… sturdier. Heavier, but without looking bulky. He doesn’t look like he slithers through the air, he looks like something the air moves out of the way for.

   You’ve completely lost control over your breathing again, as your eyes unbiddenly trail the length of his body, ending in a pointed club instead of a tip on his tail.    His body has to be at least a hundred feet long. Maybe as much as a hundred-and-fifty, it���s hard to tell when he’s curled up to fit in between the trees. And with each new detail that’s being forever engraved into your mind, panic builds stronger within your chest, taking you further and further away from the memory that this is still Oberyn.

   What you remember isn’t the man, but the teeth. How they’d felt as they’d pierced your skin. The unyielding force with which you’d been brought to a stop and the practically cementlike strength that had held you in place.    And suddenly you can recall the burning of his breath as it had fanned down over you. The smell of ash and charred meat that had accompanied the heat. A buried sensory memory that you hadn’t been aware of before this moment.

   Your fear spikes, wringing all thoughts and reason from your brain, and you turn to run.    The snow is light, so it doesn’t slow you down much, but why you would even register that tidbit of information when the beast only needs to take one step to catch up to a dozen of yours, is anyone’s guess.    You can hear it the moment that he sets off in pursuit. The slight growl and the scraping of his claws against the bedrock, somewhere deep beneath the moss and dirt.

   “Whatever you do, once the transformation is complete, you cannot run. The dragon’s instinct is always to hunt anything that runs. It’s the one thing about the beast that I have never learned to control, so you must not trigger it.”

   His words of warning echo through your fear-sick, but otherwise empty mind, and even though nothing has ever scared you more, you stop cold, freezing to the spot as if thinking that he can’t see you if you don’t move.    That was the Jurassic Park t-rex, you idiot! You mentally scold yourself, while you listen to him approach from behind you now.

   Your chest is so tight that each breath feels smaller than the one before, giving the sensation of choking, even though you’re filling your lungs with every inhale.    It seems to take so long before his head eventually comes into view next to you, slowly creeping up alongside your right, so close that the edges of his scales are brushing against the fabric of your jacket.

   Willing yourself not to faint, you turn your head just as his eye comes up beside you.    There’s no resemblance to Oberyn within that golden orb, nothing at all to indicate that he’s still in there. He meets your gaze for what feels like minutes, and then a deep growl makes the very air around you vibrate, forcing you to move when it does the same thing to your blood a mere moment later.

   You turn so that you’re still facing him as you back away, and his expression immediately seems to grow less intense. As if your proximity somehow heightens his sensitivity.    Realizing that you need to remind him of who you are and what you might mean to him, you try to think of a way to signal him, assuming that he won’t respond to speech when he’s riled up like this.

   Unable to come up with anything other than what he’d told you himself, you stop backing away, straighten yourself out and then you bow to him. You try to take comfort in the fact that he did stop chasing you as soon as you stopped running, but it’s a small solace in the face of what’s before you.    And when he raises his head and every strand of feathery light and soft hair on his body suddenly stands up like individual razor blades, that comfort is blown away.

   You’re momentarily distracted by the realization that the sound it makes when those hairs become rigid like that, is the same creaking sound you’d heard that night. And now that you see it, you understand why you’d heard it twice.    Just like when a dog raises its hackles, maybe this is an instinctive response to stress. You know that he’d tried to stop himself back then, so what if the hairs standing up twice was the result of him momentarily regaining control and then losing it again.

   “Oberyn, listen to me,” you call out, trying to keep your voice soft and hoping that the man will hear you even if the beast doesn’t. “I’m your Valya. You protect me against the spirits. We’re on our way to your castle, remember?”

   Slowly, the hairs soften and begin to sway with his movements again. But his eyes remain vigilant.    There’s something hungry within them, and you don’t like that.

   “You promised me that I would always be safe with you,” you remind him, stepping closer as the fears inside you are being replaced with something more solid. “You said that you will always do what I ask, have you forgotten that?”

   It’s your fault for running away, you know that. But you need him to remember.

   “Well, I’m asking you to be my Oberyn. The man who treats me better than anyone ever has, who’s always kind to me, even when I don’t deserve it.    Please… be my Oberyn,” you plead, the solid feeling within you revealing itself to be sorrow, although where it comes from right now, you’re not sure.

   A low hum sounds in the dragon’s chest then, and shortly after, you do see the telltale mannerism of the human, as he finally bows to you.    Relief sends a huff and a smile across your lips, and you watch as he lays down flat on the ground, and in a perfect imitation of a dog or a horse, begins to roll on his back as if trying to scratch an itch.

   Snow flies everywhere, spilling from the branches of the trees that he collides with and cascading down on him like white veils, almost as if he’s attempting to clean himself of the darkness within.    Coming back to his stomach, he rises to his feet but instead of shaking the snow off, he seems to vibrate his scales somehow, leaving behind only the white powder that still clings to his hair.

   His gaze finds yours once again, and now, however impossible it might appear, you do see Oberyn’s eyes in there. His age-old wisdom and tired old pains, but especially his warmth.

   “There you are,” you smile as the sorrow departs.

   He lowers his head at your words, slowly coming closer while turning his cheek towards you, probably to spare you from the scorching air of his nostrils. He stops when he’s just a few inches away, waiting for you to decide if you wish to touch him.    The surfaces of the scales are impossibly smooth, and a lot warmer than you’d expected, given that they were covered in snow only moments ago.

   But perhaps most surprising of all is that you still feel that same heat inside yourself when you’re this close to him. The same inviting and slightly intoxicating scent fills your nostrils and beckons you closer, even now, when you’re face to face with the beast.    Then again, if you ever need more proof that he is still the same person, this would be the definitive one. Because you’re sure as shit not sexually attracted to the damned dragon.

-=<>=-=<>=-=<>=-

   He had tried to prepare himself for the very real possibility that your body would react so strongly to seeing the dragon once more that you would be unable to control your fear. But against the allure of the hunt, he is still mostly powerless.    Even someone so precious to him as you, are not immune to the instinct. But he is relieved to realize that you are unique enough to his senses that the moment you stopped running, the instinct began to fade.

   In fact, he is not certain that your life was ever truly in danger. Even as he had chased after you, he had not felt compelled to kill and consume. The interest had remained within the hunt itself, which is something he has never experienced before.    Still, it had taken him too long to regain his full senses and reassure you that he would not attack you, and he will need to work on that, since he must be able to protect you while you are on the run, if the need arises.

   Happily, you don’t seem rattled by the experience. Instead, you now appear intrigued with everything you are beginning to learn and understand about him.    Which is also a first. No human has ever stood beside him without fearing him before.    Your touch is careful though, which is good, because his scales will cut your skin without effort should you not pay adequate attention.

   But however much he might wish to let you continue to explore his mythical alter ego, you are too exposed out there in the woods, so with a gentle nudge against your hands, he signals for you to move, and you understand his intent.    For a moment, the beast wants to react to your movements, although not to give chase. Something else stirs within the primal mentality of the creature. Not a hunger or need of any kind. It feels almost… playful.

   Whatever it might be, he does not have the luxury of exploring it further at this time, so he quells the feeling, silencing it under the weight of reasoning and the many fears he carries within his being. And he is a bit shocked at how easily he remains in control of the dragon right now.    Never before has he won the battle of conflicting instincts so effortlessly. Which makes him wonder if perhaps he has simply never had sufficient motivation to claim that control before.

   But wouldn’t the deaths of thousands of people have been enough motivation?    For a weary soul, too broken by his own existence to have much care for others, the answer is sadly no. It is only this newly awoken man, bathed in the light of your existence, who is capable of ignoring all the years of pain and instead willingly chooses to look beyond the known and mind-numbing, in the hopes that this time, he might find something different.

   You lead the way back to the car and the duffel bags which contain most of your life. Lifting them out of the trunk before you close it, you are left standing there, staring at the vehicle as though it has taken on a different meaning to you, now that you must part with it.    He’s worryingly aware of the increasing threat that you will be found by the spirits if you linger here for too long, but he has not the heart to tear you away without consideration.

   “I’ll never be able to come back,” you suddenly whisper, as if talking to yourself, before you look up at him with tears in your eyes. “Will I?”

   He has no answer for you, and you know this. You ask only because you need to say the words. To allow them to exist in your mind so that you may save yourself the hurt of being forced to accept them at some point in the future, whether you are prepared to or not.    It is a form of self-preservation, well known to him because it’s a tactic he has often used himself, with varying degrees of success.

   Using his tail, he gently nudges you closer to him, while he picks up your bags with one of his rear paws and prepares to take off.    You let him direct you, coming right up to his side without a trace of fear now, perhaps already at ease with the beast specifically because you have seen him both lose and regain control of himself. And probably also because you managed to control your own fear of him, empowering yourself in the process.

   He wants to let you ride him, sitting atop his shoulders, so that he can use all four legs to fight, should one or more of the flying spirits find you, but he worries that his hair might cut you if he is startled.    But just as he is about to lift his front legs off the ground and grab you, a pair of birds are startled out of a tree further up the hillside, distracting him.

   Only moments later, he sees it. The pale white shine of Caelum as she glides silently across the treetops, coming straight for you.    And suddenly the control he has been so proud over this evening, is blown away with the heat of the anger which floods his blood at the sight.    From one second to the next, there are no more thoughts, only the need to protect and escape.

-=<>=-=<>=-=<>=-

   He grabs you as he’s already moving, leaping up over the trees at the same time that both front paws wrap tightly around you, and then those giant wings unfold and in one big thrust, the seven hills have almost disappeared against the dark horizon already.    But the owl is just as fast, taking up pursuit and even gaining on Oberyn as he continues to accelerate and climb.

   It comes closer, leaving a trail of what looks like black smoke in its wake, with its eyes fixed on you and all you can do is watch, while the dragon snarls in warning and tries to hit it with his tail. And when that doesn’t work, he presses you against his chest, covering as much of your body as he can with his paws, and then the world becomes an incomprehensible abstract painting.

   Speed isn’t enough, so he’s using agility, twisting, spinning and slithering through the air with such rapid and random movements that the spirit can’t get to you.    Still, it isn’t giving up, and that seems to seriously piss off the beast.    He stops so abruptly that the owl shoots past, at which point, he opens his jaws and spews out a large flame.

   It seems like a strange thing to do when the bird is already too far away for the fire to reach it, but the serpent has another trick up his sleeves.    In the same moment as the flame leaves his mouth, he beats his wings together while angling them forwards, and that somehow creates a beam of light and heat that hits the spirit as though a bullet had been fired.

   From what you can make out, the owl isn’t seriously hurt, but it does leave, and Oberyn resumes your journey, keeping up the same mad pace as before and almost colliding with a commercial jet along the way.    But somehow, you make it to the castle without further incident, and he lands on the courtyard but doesn’t change back right away like you’d thought.

   Instead, he runs inside on three legs, and he doesn’t stop until you’re deep within the structure of stone walls, in a room small enough that he has to twist around himself twice to fit in to it.    Clearly still stressed, he keeps holding you to his chest even after he’s stopped moving, as though he expects something to crawl out of the walls and snatch you from him, all while sniffing the air and looking around frantically.

   You know that he won’t hear you so long as he’s this riled up, so you let him fret while you marvel at the truly magnificent being that he is, now that you can finally bring yourself to appreciate it.    He’s holding you right by his heart, and in between the giant breaths and the clicking of his claws against the stone floor as he restlessly shifts his weight, you can hear it beating.

   Stretching your arms out to the sides and resting your ear against his scales, you close your eyes and just listen to it.    It must be bigger than you, and it thumps so fast in there, flooding his body with oxygen and adrenaline and keeping him on edge.    You don’t know for sure that you’re safe from the spirits here, but you think so. You think that if they’d been hellbent on getting to you tonight, they would’ve already showed up.

   So, to try and calm him down, you start singing to the dragon.    A sweet little lullaby that your foster mother had taught you, which speaks of restless men and angry seas, being stilled by the grace of the sun.    He stops moving the moment he hears the first notes, and for each line that follows, his heart slows a little bit more.

   And by the time the song ends, his scales have been folded away and the soft fabric of his coat is once again pressed against your cheek.    You wonder where it goes when he transforms, because you can clearly remember seeing his scales come out straight through it and then it had just sort of disappeared into his skin. But it’s still intact now that it reemerges, and that fascinates you.

   Then soft lips are pressed into your forehead, and you look up to see brown eyes peering down at you, while a tender smile adorns his lips.

   “You are quite amazing, my dear,” he says quietly, warmly, and all at once, that heat sparks within you again.

   “So are you… my Oberyn,” you reply, and his breath hitches at the claim you make on him.

   “Yes,” he whispers, because that’s as much as he can get out. “Yes, I am yours.”

   Your arms are already around one another, but as you tighten your grip, so does he. And when you reach your lips towards his, he meets you.    It’s soft and careful at first. Exploring and learning how you fit together. But pretty soon the heat within becomes unbearable, and you begin to crave. So much that he has to grab your hands to keep you from groping him through his trousers.

   “Take a breath, Valya. If you touch me there, I will have nothing left for your craving sex.”

   “God, I’m sorry… I don’t know what’s come over me,” you pant against his lips before he kisses you again, much heartier this time.

   “Don’t worry. I won’t leave you dissatisfied,” he promises, and you believe him.

   Then he steps away, leaving you stunned by the sudden cold of the air around you, which is when you first look around and realize that you’ve never been in this room before.    He’s moved over to the fireplace to warm it up, and while he does, you notice that there’s a large bed to your left, big bookshelves and a large chest of drawers to your right, and on the walls are the most beautiful paintings you’ve ever seen.

   The tower is the only other room you’ve set foot in here that was decorated. Which has to mean that this is his room.    For a moment, you’re almost moved to tears by the notion that the dragon, in a state of fear and distress, had brought you to his most private and personal space in this world. The one place that Oberyn has never allowed you to visit before.

   He wouldn’t have done that if he didn’t love you. If his feelings for you weren’t powerful enough to break the barriers between the man and the beast. And that thought changes everything.    When he returns to you, it isn’t his body you desire, but all of him. So, once he’s back within your reach, and that heat flares inside of you again, you let it spread through every cell in your body, warming not just your sex, but your very bones.

   You reach for his collar and begin to undo the buttons, and he helps you by starting on the ones from the bottom, and when it falls open, you’re surprised to find nothing underneath. No shirt or sweater, just lovely golden tanned skin, revealed to your scrutiny and your touch.    He lets the coat fall to the floor with a shrug and you can see in his eyes that even if you hadn’t found him absolutely gorgeous, he wouldn’t have taken offense.

   He’s confident about himself like this, even exposed and vulnerable, and you suppose that given his other self, which people have probably run away from the very sight of, his human form must feel simple and comfortable in comparison.    You’re not usually that confident about yourself, but right now, when he begins to unzip your jacket and peel off your layers, you’re not particularly nervous at all.

   He strips you down to your underwear and then he pauses to hold and kiss you again, as if he wants to remind you that this isn’t just about your bodies.    You kiss him in return and then slip your hands down his back, until your fingers find the waistline of his pants and you greedily slip them past the fabric, pushing it down as far as you can so that you can feel the tantalizing swell of his cheeks.

   Because yes, this is more than just physical, but it is also very physical, and he takes the hint without further ado. Mirroring you, his hands find the supple lower edges of your ass and pulls you into his groin, grinding against your sex and making you gasp, both at the sensation and at his size.    Not trusting your own nerve endings, you pull back and look down, needing to know if he’s as big as he feels, and he damned well is.

   “Whoa… dragon indeed,” you breathe as you trace the contours of him with your eyes.

   He tilts your head back up then and when you meet his gaze, there’s a worried crease in his brow, probably from concern that you won’t trust him not to hurt you. But that worry disappears when he sees your expression, because there’s no fear in you.    What you feel is anticipation and quite a lot of excitement, because somehow, you just know that this man isn’t gonna settle for anything less than your absolute satisfaction. Anything other than that, he would probably consider a terrible failure on his part.

   The final items of clothing on both of you are quickly removed when he realizes that you do trust him and that you’re only eager to be with him. The air flares with heat as he lets go of his inhibitions and releases his passion, pressing your bodies together while he moves you towards the bed, and then lets you go so that you fall back onto it.    A very different kind of hunger than anything you’ve thus far seen in him, floods his features and leaves his chest heaving with each breath.

   You watch as he lets his hands roam over you, confirming that he’s found all your trigger-points, and then his mouth joins in.    Before he’s even started on your sex, he’s got you writhing for him, mewling unintelligibly at him, whining when he pinches your hands down so that you can’t influence him, and then teasingly moves further away from the heat at your core.

   “I need you to open for me, sweetheart,” he whispers into your ear while he drags his cock against your opening and then your clit, sending spasms of pleasure through you.

   “I need you soft and pliant before I give it to you. And you know what makes you malleable, don’t you?” he continues, before running his tongue down your neck and nibbling at the top of your shoulder.

   He knows exactly what he’s doing, and it fascinates you that he can bring you to the brink of an orgasm by only barely manipulating the parts of you that are dedicated to that specific function.    But he wants you to come, and come hard, so that your pussy will relax thoroughly afterwards, and somehow, the fact that he’s barely touched you only heightens every sensation.

   So, when his upper body settles on top of you and his hands slip to your thighs, grabbing them hard right at the junction to your groin and holding you down while he uses the head of his length to nudge and tease you, the forcefulness of your orgasm is enough to lift both of your torsos off the mattress.

   It takes you several minutes to come back down, and every second of them, he’s pleasuring some part of you, keeping your body active and responsive, preparing you for more.    He doesn’t tell you before he begins to push inside, he just does, knowing that advance warning will only make you tense up. And fucking hell, are you glad that he warmed you up first, because even now, when you’re as pliant as you can be, he stretches you a lot.

   Of course, it doesn’t help that you haven’t seen any action in years, but still, the girth of this man is no joke.    It isn’t painful, though. He’s done what he needed to do to make this pleasurable for you, and by gods it is. It’s a new sensation for you, being absolutely filled, but it’s a wonderful one. More than that, he seems to fit you. Putting pressure on all the best spots inside you.

   Then he starts to move, and everything gets turned up to eleven.    Suddenly you’re on fire, being electrocuted and washed with soothing cool water all at the same time, as he overstimulates you in the sweetest way possible.    You can hear him try to say something, but it vanishes among his own mewls of pleasure and desperate fight for air as his body reacts, removing all thoughts and reason from his mind since he's got no use for them in this moment.

   You aren’t sure if you’ve already come a second time or not, until the pressure suddenly builds again and surges through you without mercy or any consideration for your already singed nerves.    It’s an entirely different sensation when he’s inside you. Intense in a deeper way, less spasms and more like a pleasurable ache that flows through you with each heartbeat. Something that seems to reach into your most primal self, satisfying a part of your being that can only be reached like this.

   He follows right behind you, spilling into you with hard snaps and rolls of his hips. He wraps his arms around your back and fastens your bodies together, pressing all air out from between you in his need to have you as close as is physically possible. It’s almost hard to breathe with how firm his grip is, but you don’t mind. You love that he wants you that close. That your body and your touch is so desirable to him.

   Locked against him, you have no choice but to feel every tension of his muscles as he rides out his high, and it’s an incredible thing.    There’s so much power in him. He could easily crush you if he wanted, you’re absolutely sure of that, just like you’re sure that he never would.    Tonight, he’s proven exactly how much you mean to each side of him, and now that you think about it, really think about it, it’s almost frightening how much he cares for you.

   Not frightening in the sense that you’re scared of him, but rather for him. Because what happens to him if the spirits succeed?    Lying there, overwhelmed by both physical and emotional sensations, it hits you that you’re both equally capable of destroying the world. You with darkness, and him with fire.    What a pair you make.

   “I love you, Oberyn.”

   You wait until you’ve both cooled down somewhat before you say it, because you don’t want him to think that it’s something you just say in the throes of passion. You need him to know that you mean it.

   “I think I have from the moment we met,” you continue while he’s still trying to lift his head and look at you, probably to make sure that he isn’t imagining it. “Obviously not the very first moment, that was scary as hell, but the other one.”

   He’s regained enough strength to rise to his elbows and meet your eyes then, and he looks so vulnerable. So scared but also incredibly happy. And you realize that you have his entire heart in your hands right now, and that you need to be careful with it.

   “I don’t know why, but I feel like… this is meant to be. Like I belong right here, in your arms.    Does that make any sense?” you ask, smiling at him, and he responds in kind.

   “Yes. Yes, I know exactly what you mean,” he shakily says, confirming that he feels the same. “For six thousand years I have wandered alone. Loved and lost so many times that my heart turned cold and dark.    And then, in just one fraction of a second, you changed everything. Not just my heart, but my thoughts, dreams and hopes. All the parts of me that makes life worth the effort.”

   Okay, the sweet declaration of love aside: what the actual fuck?!

   “D-… did you just say six… thousand years?” you ask, truly unable to fathom the enormity of that number.

   “Well, I don’t remember exactly, but I know that it is at least that.”

   “Jesus… I can’t even wrap my head around that.”

   “Don’t worry about it. You have my head wrapped up tightly enough,” he says, and his tone leaves no doubts that he’s referring to the tip of his now soft member that’s still deeply embedded inside you.

   “Hmpf. Aren’t you cocky, all of a sudden,” you retort with a grin, and he laughs softly.

   It’s the first time you’ve ever heard him laugh.

   “Does that mean you want me to pull out?” he asks, still with a boyish grin on his face.

   “That depends. I’m not a garage, so unless you’re planning on pleasuring me more tonight…” you start, but he silences you with a kiss, and then swallows your surprised moan when he thrusts into you again.

   “I have told you repeatedly: anything you want, my love,” he purrs once he breaks the kiss, but then seems to change his mind. “Although, on second thought, I think I might follow my own desires tonight. If that’s alright with you.”

   He didn’t phrase it as a question, but you still nod to let him know that you’re with him. That whatever pleasure you can offer him, you’ll happily agree to, because that’s how completely you’ve come to trust him tonight.    As it turns out, and as he spends most of the night showing you, you were right in thinking that what he derives the most amount of pleasure from is knowing that he satisfies you.

   And he does. To the point where you don’t even remember the last orgasm that he gives you because you pass out from exhaustion halfway through it.

Part 7

The Ten Spirits of the World Air - Forest - Water - Stone - Night - Autumn - Winter - Spring - Summer.

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