#love me some petty squabbles | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kamaluhkhan · 5 months

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you are so gorgeous (it makes me so mad)

pairing: young!coryo snow x fem!reader

summary: clemensia dovecote has a theory that you and snow are destined for an enemies to lovers arc. you're sure it's completely, absolutely not true...right?

warnings: 18 + smut; biting + mention of blood ; both reader and snow are not the best ppl and have some very classist/elitist opinions

a/n: finally!! i wrote one of the ideas that has been haunting me ever since i've been back in my hunger games obsession + watched tbosbas...needless to say this will likely be a series inspired by taylor swift's reputation album. also i am so sorry this is unedited bc ofc it's 3am when i had the motivation to write this but i hope y'all enjoy ♡

i've had enemies so intense it felt like love, so mutual it felt romantic (chelsea hodson)

"what in the name of all the gods is he doing here?"

you're practically seething when coriolanus snow walks into your foyer. he's wearing an ensemble made with crisp white silk and intricately embroidered with gold thread - elegant, eventhough its silhouette would have been fashionable last year. a single white rose sits in the pocket of his jacket. he surveys the crowd, like he's calculating who's most worthy of his attention, platnium blond hair perfectly curled and practically glowing under the light of the chandelier. he looks beautiful, almost angelic.

you absolutely hate it.

"oh, i invited him," clemensia dovecote informs non-chalantly.

coriolanus makes eye contact with you from across the room, and you turn your head sharply to your best friend.

"why would you think it was okay to invite him?"

clemensia smiles mischeviously, grabbing two champagne flutes from a passing silver tray. she hands one to you.

"i know the two of you have your petty squabbles — "

"they are not petty, nor are they squabbles," you grumble, taking a sip of your drink.

your contempt towards coriolanus was perfectly reasonable and absolutely mutual. he had some ridiculous notion that snow had to land on top, that it was his right to be there instead of yours. your relationship, if you could call it that, was limited to nothing more than snide remarks, sarcastic comments, and scornful stares. you both hyperaware of the importance of keeping up appearances, but the older you got - the closer to life outside of the academy and the higher the stakes - the more any sense of civility between you two faded. just earlier this week, you'd gotten into such a heated debate about the best way to increase viewership for the upcoming 10th annual hunger games, that your professor excused you both from the class early due to the disruption. it seemed that no one knew how to make you burn with anger quite like coriolanus snow.

clemensia rolls her eyes. "whatever you want to call it, i actually think the two of you would get along if you really tried."

one of the things you admired - and, frankly, loathed - about clemensia was her determination to always prove herself right. she had this theory - one you would call ludicrous - that the tension between you and coriolanus had nothing to do with academics or status and everything to do with wanting to rip each other's clothes off.

your eyes catch coriolanus' icy blue ones again and you down the rest of your drink. obviously, clemensia was wrong about this. so, very wrong.

"well," you huff, setting your empty glass down on another silver tray that passes by. you brush invisible dust off your dress - a deep red lace, short and form fitting with exaggerated long sleeves - and add: "you'll be lucky if i invite you to my next party."

clemensia might have had the sense to apologize then, but you walked away before she had a chance.

you allow yourself to weave through the crowd, greeting every guest with an equal facade of enthusiasm and grace. you smile as brightly at one person as you do the next, showing off your newly bleached teeth and making sure that everyone feels special. silver trays of food and drinks appear and reappear throughout the crowd, being carried by nameless waiters. there's a table overflowing with gifts concealed by crisply folded wrapping paper - you expect at least half of them will be worthless.

you put up a good front, but soon enough your lipstick needs reapplying and your hair readjusting, so you briefly excuse yourself lest anyone notice a crack in your perfectly constructed image. the door to your room is slightly ajar, and you open it to reveal none other than the person you'd deliberately, but not so successfully, tried to ignore all night, his white silk shirt stained a dark crimson that happened to match your dress.

coriolanus was furious when he found out you'd invited the entire graduating class, except him, to your birthday party. you'd even invited sejanus. it wasn't that he particularly wanted to celebrate you, of all people. you were the most brilliant, biting, enfuriating person he knew, but to be excluded in such a way was insulting. when clemensia extended him the invite, he jumped at the chance to prove to everyone, to you, that he belonged here. tigris curated his outfit, and it would have been perfect had arachne crane, vapid creature she was and ever the lightweight, spilled an entire glass of red wine on him. he hurried away before anyone could see him in such a humiliating state. coriolanus is in the middle of calculating his options when you walk into what he now realizes is your bedroom.

you don't say a word at first. you haven't said one to him all night. instead, you close the door behind you and your eyes graze his figure.

"you show up to my party, late no less, and now you're parading around in what looks like a bloodstained shirt that is far too outmoded to be appropriate attire for this occasion," you remark, displaying that signature fierceness. "are you trying to ruin my birthday, snow?"

"don't blame me," coriolanus scoffs. his shoulders tense and he makes a point to stand up a bit straighter. "blame arachne for not being able to hold her alcohol while she's complaining about the food."

"oh?" you raise an eyebrow. "what did she say?"

"something about people in the districts having better options."

"vapid bitch," you mutter under your breath. you walk over to your closet, disappearing for a few seconds before bringing out a fresh shirt. you extend it to him, but he doesn't take it.

"i can't very well have a good time when one of my guests looks like he just got killed in the hunger games," you huff. "so either you put this on or your leave my party. now."

coriolanus holds your gaze, his jaw clenched, before giving in and taking the shirt from you. he goes to undo the buttons of his shirt, but stops when he notices that your eyes never leave him.

"some privacy would be nice," he says sharply.

you roll your eyes, muttering something about it being your house and your room, before sitting across the room at your vanity. as he undresses and throws his soiled shirt on the floor, coriolanus watches you closely. you meticulously apply lipstick, the shade of red almost as dark as your black nails.

you were attractive, there was no denying that, but ultimately dangerous. because you weren't carelessly cruel like arachne, nor did you wear your heart on your sleeve like sejanus. you didn't use your family's status as an excuse to avoid hard work like felix, nor were you a spineless know-it-all like clemensia. no, you were different from the rest. you had a fiery ambition and a sharp tongue, a wicked streak with just enough charisma to lure people in. sometimes when he thinks of you, coriolanus recalls stories his grandma'am once told him and tigress, about sea monsters who would tempt sailors with their bewitching voices and enchanting beauty, enticing them to risk everything - to jump into the ocean and never be relevant as anything more than a midnight snack. you were a constant, suffocating reminder of how quickly he could lose everything if he lost control, if he gave in.

coriolanus watches you set down the tube of lipstick before picking up a compact. you lightly brush the shimmery powder inside over your face to accentuate some of your gorgeous features.

the desire that burns throughout his body now has to be a side effect of the few glasses of liquor he managed to drink, allowing himself the appearance of having a good time alongside everyone else without losing control.

your eyes leave your reflection momentarily, and you finally catch coriolanus staring at you. you wink at him from across the room just as he's finished with the last button. the way you look at him makes the collar of his shirt feel tighter.

he can not give in....but what's the harm in admitting, just for one night, that he would let you drown him? devour him? beg on his knees to give you pleasure, and then thank you after the fact?

coriolanus clears his throat. "this feels wrong. i should be the one gifting you with a new shirt. it's your birthday, after all."

you let out a breathy laugh, setting down your makeup. you walk over to him, until there are only a few inches between you despite the vastness of your bedroom.

even you had to concede that coriolanus snow had such a gorgeous face for such a vicious person. you're infuriated by how elegant he looks now, in your shirt. your hands busy themselves in smoothing down his already perfect collar and you take note of the intensity of his heartbeat. you notice the way his jaw remains clenched, his posture stiff, his skin flushed. you realize that he must be trying so hard right now to retain his composure around you and you feel something that can only be described as triumph.

you smile at him, sickly sweet, and remove your hands from his body. "the best birthday present i could get is winning the plinth prize over you, snow. we both know you're not good enough, let alone better than me."

he hesitates slightly before responding.

"sorry, valerius. that's the one thing i can't give you. is there anything else you'd want from me?" he whispers, words dripping like honey.

"that depends, is there anything you want from me?"

he hums, moving his hand to cup your cheek. he begins to trace your lips with his thumb, ruining the look you had so meticulously crafted.

if only you knew.

"you're the birthday girl, sweetheart," he chides. "i'm supposed to be the one giving the gift. you do know how birthdays work, don't you?"

he's mocking you, you know that. he's trying to make you feel weak and small. you had the power a second ago, his heartbeat in the palm of your hand, and normally you wouldn't stand for him turning the tables. you'd push him away, storm out the door. but right now all you want is to tug on his perfect blond curls, to bite the smirk off his lips. maybe it's the way he's so close and can't seem to take his eyes off your lips or the calculated amount of wine you drank that's made your head a bit foggy, made you put your guard down. made you start to entertain the idea that maybe possibly clemensia's theory had some truth to it.

"why don't you surprise me?" you suggest.

coriolanus surges forward and kisses you with such ferocity, he might as well be a man starving. teeth on teeth on tongue. you instantly tangle your hands into his hair, pull on some curls just to see what he'd do. he retaliates by biting down on your bottom lip, hard enough that you taste the metallic tang of blood mixed with the remnants of honeyed wine on his lips. you whimper and pull away slightly. he holds your face firmly between his two hands, so you cannot go too far.

"sorry." but he smirks, and you know he doesn't really mean it.

eventually, you've both stumbled onto the bed half-naked. coriolanus positions himself above you, effectively caging you in with his arms and legs. you take note of his lean thighs, his bare torso with skin taut around his bones. you're almost taken aback by how frail he looks - like a malnourished teenager from one of the districts. you reach out to trace the outline of his ribs, your nails scraping against his skin, and he shudders. your hand moves lower, teasing the waistband of his underwear. he stops you before it slips underneath the material.

instead, coriolanus begins to indulge in his deepest fantasy. he kisses and sucks and bites down your body, his tongue trailing down your chest, over your breasts and around your nipples, across your stomach. he laps up your soft whines, the curses that tumble from your lips for him to do something more. you sink further into the silk sheets when he arrives between your thighs. you raise your hips, desperate to find any sort of relief, and you feel his nails dig into your hips.

"patience," he teases, his breath fanning over where you needed him most. "so needy." you could practically feel coriolanus roll his eyes.

"i swear to god snow, if you don't do something soon. i-i'll go find someone else to fuck me. felix, or maybe sejanus --"

you yelp when his teeth sink into your inner thigh. he looks up at you, eyes the darkest blue you've ever seen them.

"don't," coriolanus warns, and he gets back to work, lips actually arriving at where you needed them most.

after you've reached your high, he comes back up to kiss you, allowing you to taste yourself. when he pulls away, you take note of how his lips and nose shine with remnants of you. the way he looks at you while he licks his lips shows you that he wants more. you move your hand down, and you're deeply satisfied when you feel him half hard, already sticky with his release.

"oh." you smirk. "you already finished."

his eyes widen, skin flushing pink. you could feel his heartbeat grow faster above you. you could imagine he was debating the best way to restore his dominance from before. yet, here he was, nothing but a horny teenage boy who came untouched as he was eating out his worst enemy. you find it in you to not call him pathetic, but instead decide, in your post-orgasm haze, you find it endearing.

"i-i didn't mean to, but --"

"i'm just that sexy when i cum," you suggest, running your hands through his curls to calm him down. "how about we try again, pretty boy?"

soon enough, he's sitting up with his back against your headboard and your legs wrapped around his waist, his length fully nestled into your warm cunt. coriolanus' blunt nails graze your hips, moving lower to your ass to guide you with each thrust. you love seeing him underneath you, seeming completely mesmerized by how your breasts bounce up and down in front of him. he leans forward to wrap his lips around your nipple, but you beat him to it. you bend forward and suck bruises onto his skin, everywhere and anywhere: underneath his chin, across his collarbone, where his neck meets his shoulder.

his moans are so loud, and you're sure he's not going to last much longer. you're also worried that some of the other party guests might catch you, so you pull his head away from your shoulder and crash your lips back onto to his. you swallow his moans as best you can, tongues fight for dominance, but he lets out a deep groan, and lets you win. you bite down on his bottom lip just as you reach your climax, causing him to let out a deep groan once more.

you gasp when he suddenly flips you over, pulls out of you and stokes himself a few times before painting your body with his release. coriolanus all but collapses on the bed beside you. you're both breathing heavily for a few moments, on your backs looking up at the ceiling, before he turns on his side towards you. coriolanus trails hs fingers down to your abdomen, sticky with his cum.

"i told you: snow lands on top."

"was that a joke, coryo?" you guffaw, genuinely surprised at the mischievous but playful glint in his eye. a bit surprised at yourself, too, for using his nickname that you'd so carefully avoided. you had to remind yourself that he was still the same coriolanus snow you'd grown to hate.

the boy tangled in the sheets beside you, his messy curls translucent under the light of your chandelier, his skin glowing with sweat and decorated with lipstick and rose-petal bruises. the boy who now smiles at you with dazzling blue eyes, leans closer and whispers:

"don't get used to it. it's a special occasion." coriolanus kisses you sweetly, and you shiver before he adds: "happy birthday."

this boy in bed with you now is the same manipulative, power hungry snake who would stab you in the back if need be. and, the truth of the matter is: you aren't much different, either.

you get up to grab his wine-stained shirt, use it to wipe off his release and toss it back down to the floor.

his eyes follow you the entire time, even as you come back to straddle him again. almost instantly, you feel him harden underneath you. you hold his head in your hands, kiss him deeply, tease his bottom lip between your teeth as you pull away.

"snow lands on top, huh? not for long, if i can help it."

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etheries1015 · 4 months

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Lilia couldn't help but notice the way this other person got...rather uncomfortably close to you, in his opinion. Almost by instinct, the fae found himself floating directly behind you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders with his head poking out from behind you and pressing his cheek gently against yours.

"I'm sorry, but I do believe this one is taken!" Rollo raised an eyebrow before holding up his handkerchief against his nose, scowling at the fae.

"You cannot own a human. They are not object to be had, I believe." He grumbled from behind the tissue, eying Lilia whose eyes remind bright and positive per usual. He knew it was silly to be arguing with a student of all people over the affections of his lover, but he couldn't help but feel that Rollo did not intend on backing down around you. He had a bad feeling inside of his chest, and the old general's gut feelings were never wrong.

"Ahaha!" Lilia laughed exasperatedly, "Let's go, my beloved bat," He emphasized, leading to turn you away from the obviously annoyed student in an attempt to avoid any further confrontation. You raised an eyebrow at him although allowing the fae to lead you afar.

"Are you jealous?" You cooed, Lilia raising an eyebrow at you with a smile calmly painted upon his features.

"Of course not. I am confident in our affections in one another," He confidently said.

He was not a very good liar.

It was painfully obvious the way he would always be by your side or conveniently have an excuse to pull you away whenever a conversation sparked between you and Rollo. Lilia made it a point to distract you- handing you cute knicknacks he found in the city, feed you some local bread while staring Rollo down, and overall be...well, petty, for lack thereof better words. It was constant, all day. He was clinging to you and showing a side to him you have not seen before.

Upon returning to the chambers that you shared with your lover, Lilia took the opportunity to push you against the bed and nuzzle himself into your warmth. You could feel the guilt radiating off of him, the fae groaning in annoyance.

"That was unbecoming of a fae my age," He murmured, "The things you do to me, little bat..." You let out a hearty laugh and raised your eyebrows at your lover, playfully hitting him on his back.

"Don't blame me for your possessiveness! But I don't really blame you. I could tell Rollo harbored some sort of crush on me, and I was kind of put off at his side comments about magic users and fae. So I guess your actions were justified. Although..." You pulled him away from his hug and looked him in the eyes, "I would think my boyfriend would have more faith in me."

"Oh hush your squabbling, admit it, you were smitten with my outward displays of affection~" You smiled playfully and looked away from him, pretending to be in thought and humming thoughtfully.

"Hmmm... I suppose I did," You looked back at him with a toothy grin, "It was cute." Lilia let out an amused chuckle before capturing your lips with his own, pushing you back down to the bed and placing himself on top of you.

"Faes love tends to be intense, you know. Such is their jealousy," He said to you with his forehead pressed against your own, staring lovingly into your eyes, "Best prepare yourself, my darling." He swooped in for another kiss.

"So you admit you were jealous?"

"Nope."

"Lilia!!" You burst out laughing as he peppered your face and neck with kisses and love bites. His love was intense, but that was only one of the many things that you love about this fae <3

#Twisted wonderland #Twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland fanfictions #twst fanfictions #twisted wonderland fanfics #twst fanfics #lilia #Lilia vanrouge #Lilia vanrouge x reader #Lilia twisted wonderland #Lilia twisted wonderland x reader #Lilia twst #twst lilia x reader

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evilmario666 · 8 months

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Hello, this is Philip; I was one of Broghan's Genshin Impact LARPing buddies back in Oregon before I moved to Texas and started blacklisting every Hoyoverse game because they fucking suck. He dropped the payphone and I heard sirens, he was hysterical. I guess it's the fact that the guy changing his identity and everything (he calls himself the "disappearer") wasn't giving him his Lamictal for a month. He was telling the sheriff about how his fursona is a ram named Carl who's a giant stoner and loves playing video games and getting stuck in House of Leaves-style torture matrixes as they were putting handcuffs on him.

As it turns out, the sheriff also had a fursona. He said his fursona was a neon fox twink, and Broghan spat on him and called him "basic". Honestly I'd do the same.

He left the phone dangling for 10 minutes, nobody bothered to put it back up. I'm going to be flying to Alaska to try to get the court case settled out in a month or two, but considering Venti's money and lawyers (he's attached to the CIA after all) I'm not sure how valuable my testimony would be. As for the charges, they refuse to fucking tell me? I think it's some shit Venti fabricated. Probably pinning him as a drug kingpin as revenge for some petty squabble they had over Star Rail because, y'know, Oswald.

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shadowdaddies · 1 month

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Hello girly, there is so little fics about Tarquin, so can I please request a Tarquin x mate!reader. Where she is a quiet and kind female, it would be cool if she was a "lesser fae" (like she has a tail or horns). She loves him and doesnt really want a role in court, she just wants to be there for him. Maybe the high lords dont know much about her, and there is a High Lords meeting and she randomly appears (maybe pregnant) and just some fluff, and Mor, Feyra and Viv being happy because there is another female to be frainds with

ahh I love this, there's definitely not enough fics for Prythian's Most Eligible Bachelor™. Thank you for the request!

Less is More

Tarquin x Reader

warnings: this does get a little steamy at the end

Taking practiced, steady breaths, you forced your pounding heart to slow and plastered on a confident smirk as you took long strides through the open doors.

Your hand was slick with sweat against Tarquin’s, your mate giving a reassuring squeeze while he guided you to walk slightly in front of him. Were you a weaker faun, you would have been smothered by the table’s gazes burning into you, but you were not weaker. You were a “lesser faerie” - or so that was your title given from the old High Fae - but you were High Lady of the Summer Court, and remembering that put the strength in your spine you needed as you took your seat.

Tarquin took his place next to you, turquoise eyes swimming with pride as he drank in the attention from the room. He feigned nonchalance, pressing a kiss to your knuckles before resting your hand atop his against the table. “Ah yes,” he laughed softly, raising your joined hands in display for the group of High Lords and Ladies. “Allow me to introduce my mate, the High Lady of the Summer Court.”

You smiled, unable to control the blush that bloomed upon your cheeks as Feyre gave you a polite smile and nod, Rhysand and Kallias both granting quiet congratulations.

It was Viviane who smirked, reclining back in her seat as she loosed a dramatic sigh. As the second High Lady in Prythian’s history after Feyre along with what you’d heard of her, you liked the female already. “It’s nice to have another High Lady at the table. Perhaps soon enough, each court will recognize their females as equals.”

Her icy blue eyes sparkled with amusement at the sight of flames on Beron’s fingertips, the High Lord of Autumn’s focus having never moved from the horns on your head, perfectly framed by your royal crown.

Conversely, Tarquin’s own stare never faltered, watching Beron with a predator’s gaze. He knew better than to bait the other High Lords - Tarquin found it better to rule as himself, a kind yet firm leader - and you admired him impossibly more for it.

“Welcome, High Lady. Let us begin,” Helion purred, his smooth voice emanating a deep power that seemed to bring Beron out of whatever anger-filled haze he was lost in. Murky brown eyes whipped to Helion, who returned the acknowledgment with a slight arch of his brow.

“Beron, if there is something you wish to lead the meeting with, please do so,” Helion drawled, his demeanor remaining cool despite noticeable efforts not to look past Beron to where the Lady of Autumn was seated. You made a mental note to ask Tarquin about that later, focused on keeping your chin high for the moment.

Beron’s eyes flicked between you and Feyre - the lesser fae and former human at the table - but wisely he remained silent. “Continue, Helion,” Beron ground out, and you had to bite back your smile at Rhys and Feyre’s wicked grins, darkness recoiling from where it had been ready to strike.

You sat through the meeting, listening to male egos battle each other over petty squabbles, only interjecting as you and Tarquin found necessary. It was easy to find where you would fit in with this group. While it was clear Autumn would never accept you and Dawn was ambivalent, you felt a fast kinship towards Night and Winter - unsurprising, given those courts were who your wise mate was most drawn to.

As soon as the meeting ended, Beron quickly cleared, leaving the Lady of Autumn to scurry behind him. Your heart hurt for her, her eyes tired as her eldest son seemed to be the only person who paid her any mind. The other High Lords dispersed, only Night and Winter lingering behind with Tarquin and you.

“Finally, that’s over!” the Night Court’s emissary, Morrigan, practically squealed as she maneuvered around the table to you, enveloping you in a warm hug.

A surprised laugh escaped you at her kind and gentle touch, the dichotomous nature of the Night Court’s leaders jarring despite Tarquin’s advance notice.

“So, would you tell us the story of how you and Tarquin met?” Viviane pressed, her arm looping through yours as Feyre fell into step alongside the both of you. You were surprised at how easy it was to talk with them - both High Fae from such different backgrounds - but you felt beyond blessed by the Mother for not only allies, but new friends through your role.

The crescent moon was high in the sky, stars twinkling impossibly bright when you felt the heavy need for sleep weigh upon you. You hadn’t even noticed your eyes struggling to stay open until familiar hands draped a jacket over your shoulders, and you stirred to see Feyre, Morrigan, and Viviane all slowly rising.

Bidding each of them a good night, you leaned into Tarquin’s warmth, savoring the calming scent of coconut and sea spray while he pressed a soft kiss to the top of your hair. He led your to the shared room in which you were staying, closing the door gently behind before peeling his jacket from your shoulders.

A whine escaped you at the sudden cold, and your mate chuckled, arms wrapping around you fully this time. Enveloped in his warmth, you settled against Tarquin’s chest and swayed to a silent melody, the rhythm of the ocean.

“You were incredible tonight,” he murmured against your neck. “You are always incredible, and yet you always blow me away with your grace and wisdom.”

He pressed another lingering kiss to your shoulder, working his way up to hover near your ear. Teeth tugged lightly on the skin of your earlobe, your mind growing dizzy with the sensations when he whispered, “I am so thankful, and honored, to have you as my mate and High Lady.”

Feeling the weight of the crown against your horns, you couldn’t help but tease him. “Horns and all?” but Tarquin’s eyes grew darker, turquoise eyes like a brewing sea storm.

He pulled your head to his toned chest, tongue flicking out against one of those sensitive horns. You mewled at the motion, the scent of the room changing with the fervor of arousal growing.

“Especially these,” he breathed, hoisting your legs around his hips before turning to toss you onto the mattress. You bounced against the silken sheets with a giggle, watching your mate lift his shirt over his head while his gaze raked unabashedly over every inch of your figure.

“Every part of you is perfect,” Tarquin whispered, white hair aglow in the light from the window, eyes shining with mischief as his body slid sinfully against your own.

“I love you,” you whispered, legs wrapping around his waist as you pulled him in for a passionate kiss. He once again kissed his way down your body, this time peeling away the fabric of your dress as he did so. Your consciousness drifted away at his touch, carnal feeling and deep emotion invading your senses while the only thought you could manage was that “forever is not long enough with this male.”

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heliads · 3 months

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Hello lovely! I was wondering if you could please write an enemies to lovers Sirius x reader fanfic where they're always bickering and arguing but one day, reader seems rather numb and he makes an obnoxious comment like "Trouble in paradise, princess?" and they get mad and say "Oh, get f, Black! Easy for you to have a go, isn't it? Why do we always have to talk about my shitty life, Mr. Tell Me A Fucking Secret?" and the reader storms off and he finds out that they're brother died? Sorry if that doesn't make any sense and i fully understand if you don't want to do it. Don't forget to drink water and have a great day :) 💞

'an apology' - sirius black

masterlist

Everyone likes Sirius Black. Everyone but you, it seems. You’re not sure how in Merlin’s name he managed his widespread popularity. Maybe there was a secret prank of the Marauders a while back in which they jinxed everyone in the school to grow besotted with the long-haired, mischievous, good-for-nothing scoundrel, then accidentally forgot to cast the enchantment on you. It wouldn’t even be that unrealistic, except there’s absolutely no chance that Sirius hasn’t picked up on your disregard for him. In fact, if you didn’t know any better, you’d say that he enjoys it.

Of course he would. Of course Sirius Black, Quidditch star, Marauder, prankster extraordinaire, absolutely reckless and divinely insensible Sirius Black would get a kick out of riling you up. How could he not? It’s like it’s against his programming to do anything that makes sense.

The two of you have been clashing since the day you met. No matter where you are– walking to class, accidentally paired up for a class project, meandering through Hogsmeade– you and Sirius have a knack for finding each other even in the thickest of crowds, and then promptly wanting to murder each other. You squabble over small things, like tying one’s tie incorrectly, and big things too, like when Sirius pranked you too hard one time and it took the entirety of the Marauders and your friend group working in tandem to prevent a genuine slaughter.

Needless to say, every day in which you can avoid running into Gryffindor’s favorite troublemaker is a good one. Needless to say, in a small castle like Hogwarts, that task is pretty much impossible. Even when you pledge to yourself that you’re going to pick the high road and stop letting yourself get riled up by him, you still somehow manage to get yourself lodged in yet another petty dispute.

Today, though, you really don’t want to see him. You woke up this morning to terrible news from home. Professor McGonagall had called you into her office to deliver the solemn verdict herself. Although she can be a terrifying presence, you’re glad for her today. This way, there wasn’t anyone else around but her when you found out that your brother had died.

It seems impossible. You can picture your brother in your mind– laughing, smiling, running around– and the idea that he could be dead is nonsensical. You would know, you think. Surely you would know. If a bright light like your brother could be snuffed out overnight, you would have been able to feel it. Yet you didn’t, and the world is still spinning, and you are expected to get yourself up and keep on living even though your brother is no longer here. You’ll never be able to see him again, never hear him call your name whenever you go home. He’s gone, gone forever, and you can’t think about anything else but him.

Professor McGonagall, surprisingly, is a good person to help you with loss. She listens to you brokenly sob for a while, then lets you stay in her office for as long as you need to stop crying. She offers you some biscuits, which are only mildly stale, and offers to write you a note to get out of her class, at least, although she can’t speak to the rest of her fellow professors.

You thank her, then head out. Although the idea of curling up in your bed for the rest of the day and perhaps the rest of the year as well is quite tempting, you know that if you let yourself go into misery, you’ll never be able to claw yourself out. You decide to go on with the rest of your classes for the day, as much for the distraction of not being alone with your thoughts as anything else.

You can quietly tell your friends what happened, and they’ll make sure nobody bothers you. Your brother died. Nothing seems to matter anymore. The idea that someone like Sirius Black might try to cause you trouble is almost laughable. Your brother is gone. What can a classroom bully possibly say to you to make this worse?

Sirius Black is getting bored again. He always starts idling halfway through Charms, anyway, but it’s not like that’s his fault. Flitwick should know better than to put oil lamps in front of his students, anyway; yes, they were supposed to be practicing discretion with their incendiary charms, but what does Sirius care about that? Besides, the fire he started only lit Peter’s sleeves on fire, and they managed to snuff that out pretty quick anyway. No damage done, not really.

By the time the day is halfway over, Sirius is itching for something interesting to happen. James is shaking his head and laughing at Sirius’ impatience, chiding him for not paying attention, but Sirius has seen his best friend’s eyelids drooping more than once today, so it looks like both of them are stifled for entertainment.

Sirius can tell that it’s gotten bad, because he’s hardly stepped out of the Great Hall after lunch when he spots Y/N L/N trailing down one of the corridors, and he actually starts grinning ear to ear. Y/N’s a fascinating person. They argue with Sirius like there’s no tomorrow. Sirius regards Y/N as an ever-changing maze to solve. Every time he thinks he’s hit a wall with ways to bother her, he finds something else. It’s delightful. He’s kind of obsessed with her.

So, upon seeing her, it should come as no surprise that Sirius would bid a hasty farewell to his friends and hurry to catch up with her. Usually, Y/N’s quick to shoot him a glare whenever she sees him, but this time she hardly seems to notice him when Sirius appears by her side. Strange, but he can change that.

“Good afternoon, sweetheart,” he says glibly. “I’ve missed you since I saw you yesterday, you know.”

Sirius pauses expectantly, waiting for Y/N to hit him with a rather devious comeback about how she’d rather walk over hot coals than willingly spend time in his company, but instead, she just keeps walking. Her shoulders are hunched, and her gaze is somewhat vacant, as if her mind were a thousand miles away. The quick thought flashes through Sirius’ mind that maybe she’s thinking about some guy, like maybe another student flirted with her earlier today and she’s distracted by it, and immediately his gut twists over with hot, white, irritation.

Fine, then. If she wants to ignore him, Sirius will make that impossible. He can up his game. “Tell me a secret,” Sirius drawls, each word slow and silvery like the smoke he loves so much, “What’s got a pretty face like yours looking so twisted up? I know it can’t be anything too terrible, I don’t think it’s possible for you to worry that sweet head over anything major. Don’t tell me you’ve gotten yourself into some trouble in paradise, princess. I just won’t believe it.”

That does get Y/N to look at him, but the sharp glance she directs at him is full of not anger but pain, pure pain. “Shut up,” she hisses at him. “Don’t you ever get tired of messing with me? Easy for you to have a go, isn’t it? Why do you always have to dig into my life, Mr. Tell Me A Fucking Secret? Leave me alone.”

With that, Y/N abruptly turns and stalks down a nearby corridor. Sirius watches her leave with absolute astonishment. They’ve had some verbal sparring matches which have turned nasty, to be sure, but never before has she looked at him with that much loathing. Worse than that– Sirius swears that he’d caught sight of some tears in her eyes when she’d regarded him with such misery.

Impossible. Y/N has never actually been hurt by anything he’s said to her. Right? No, she hasn’t. Sirius would know. This must mean that something has happened, something bad. Across the corridor, Sirius catches sight of one of Y/N’s friends looking at the scene he’d just caused with great distress. When she realizes Sirius has noticed her, she makes to follow Y/N, but he quickly stands in her way to keep her there.

“What’s going on?” Sirius asks plainly. No use in beating around the bush.

Y/N’s friend looks away. “None of your business, Black. Y/N’s right, how about you leave her alone for the time being?”

Sirius swears he can feel something break in his chest, some tendon plucked like a bowstring. “What are you talking about? What do you know?”

Y/N’s friend tries to get away again, but when it becomes evident that Sirius will not be leaving without an explanation, she sighs and gives in. “Y/N found out this morning that her brother passed away.”

She doesn’t say anything else. She doesn’t have to say anything else. Instantly, Sirius feels rooted in place, struck by an awful wave of guilt. Y/N must be drowning in grief, and he’s just gone and teased her even worse. Merlin, she must hate him if she didn’t already.

When he looks up, he realizes that her friend is gone. Slowly, Sirius goes down the corridor he’d last seen Y/N, carefully checking every door and room in search of her. After a while, he finds her sitting on the ledge of a window, knees tucked up against her chest. The afternoon light falls on her face, revealing fresh tear tracks. Sirius’ heart thuds dully against his ribs, the unenviable guilt rising up to choke him once again.

She looks up when Sirius drifts closer, and her face twists. She flinches as if she’d like to run, but Sirius raises his hands hastily. “I’m not here to fight, honest. I wanted to apologize.”

Y/N regards him suspiciously. “Since when have you ever apologized?”

Sirius winces. “You’re right, I’ve been terrible. It’s just– Merlin, Y/N, I had no idea. I’m so sorry about your loss. I wouldn’t have said a thing if I had known, I promise.”

“So you would have been fine to belittle me like usual, but since you found out I– I lost my brother, you feel bad? Perfect. Now leave me alone.” She says tersely.

Sirius grimaces. “I didn’t mean it like that. Just– I have a brother too, you know? Even though we don’t quite get along, I can’t imagine losing him. The fact that you’re still able to get up and walk around is amazing to me. I think you’re really strong.”

Y/N stares at him, but some of the defensiveness is gone from her gaze. “Really?”

“Really,” he affirms. “This is a terrible thing to have happened to you, and I’m so sorry that you have to go through this. Losing family is awful. Just know– I’m here if you want to talk, alright? I know you probably hate me for everything, and I wouldn’t blame you for it, but if you want someone, I’ll be around.”

Y/N stays silent, and Sirius takes that as his cue to leave. Just as he turns to go, though, he hears a soft voice behind him. “You can stay.”

Sirius looks back at her hopefully. “Yeah?”

“I’ll allow it,” Y/N tells him, but the corner of her mouth starts to quirk up a little into a somber half-smile, so Sirius realizes that he’s okay again, that they’re okay again. It feels far better than he could have imagined.

He takes a seat on the ledge opposite Y/N, and they both look out over the view of the grounds below them. Or– Y/N does, really. Sirius is more distracted by the girl in front of him. There are some things he’s starting to realize about her, about how he feels about her. It’s a good thing he has her forgiveness, so he has the time to think a little more about it.

harry potter tag list: @blondsauduun, @cameronsails, @neewtmas, @lovesanimals0000, @with-inked-solace, @sher-lokid7, @eclliipsed, @frenchgirlinlondon, @23victoria, @ilovexavierthrope, @faerieroyal

all tags list: @wordsarelife

#sirius black #sirius black imagines #sirius black x reader #sirius black oneshot #harry potter #harry potter imagines #harry potter oneshot #hp #hp imagines #hp oneshot #marauders #marauders imagines #marauders oneshot #sirius #sirius imagines #sirius oneshot

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foreverinadais · 2 years

Text

drunk: m.k

summary: after an argument with your boyfriend’s, you all engage in a silent treatment. well, until you get drunk and need jake to pick you up, as well as the others to look after you in your drunken state.

warnings: alcohol use, reader is drunk and in the mood to be a nuisance, sick/vomit, swearing, light angst, fluff!! moon boys taking care of reader, it really goes through the 5 stages of grief in this one

word count: 3.2k :)

a/n: thank you thank you thank you for 400 followers!!!! it’s insane how much support you’ve all shown and i cannot express how much i appreciate it :)

It was around 2 o’clock in the morning when the familiar buzz of a phone echoed around the walls of the flat. It was Jake who awoke to it, cursing under his breath as his eyes refused to open from their interrupted sleep. The buzzing stopped, momentarily offering an ounce of peace which Jake gladly took- until it resumed, a growing insistence in it’s tone which eventually prompted Jake to open his eyes.

The first thing he did was check his watch. Seeing how late, or early, it was suddenly inserted a sense of urgency in him, as he clambered to turn on the lamp beside the bed and roll his body out. The buzzing was still prevalent as Jake finally reached the phone he shared with his alters.

He shouldn’t have been surprised when your face shone on the screen.

You hadn’t called in a couple of days now, neither had he, likely due to a rather explosive, extremely stupid, argument you had gotten in with all of them. It was rather rare to be in an argument with all 3 of your boyfriend’s. But after another squabble about schedules and missions, it was bound to blow up, leading to you leaving and giving the silent treatment. Not that any of them tried to stop you, just as in need of the space and reflection time.

All of you were renowned for your pettiness. Which is why it took Jake a moment to answer the phone. But then, worry settled in as he remembered the time, realised you wouldn’t be calling unless it was absolutely necessary. He didn’t make a move to talk first, figuring you would do that. He was right.

He could hear the muffled booming of music behind you, tacky club sounds that were only tolerable when pissed. Surrounding that, the obnoxious chatter of people Jake could only assume were drunk, all of it moulding into a loud hum in his ears. He cringed in his barely awake state, holding the phone away from his ear briefly before deciding to make his presence known.

“Yeah?”

“Jakeee?” Oh shit. He could automatically tell by your disorientated tone that you were drunk. “ ‘s that you? Jakey?” He felt annoyance rise in him at your nonchalance to the situation, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers.

“Yep. Why you calling?” He was being short with you. In your delirious state, you couldn’t tell.

“I need- hiccup – to be p-picked up because ‘m hungry and tireddd and my friend, she left with this girl and I- hello, doggo, your so cute!- need you.” Jake cussed, muttering a few profanities in Spanish before finding words to reply.

“Mierda, fine. Where are you?”

“Ummm I don’t knowww, wait, excuse me? I love your outfit, wait, sorry, where am I? Can you please message it to my boyfriend- wait can I call him that? We’re- hiccup- angry at each other.” Your voice was slurred, desperate, and Jake suddenly felt a sense of worry at your vulnerability.

“Go wait inside, hmm?” Jake said through the phone, putting on some shoes and grabbing his cap and jacket. It was then his phone pinged, and he realised the strangers you had accounted yourself with had sent your location. You were still mumbling to them about the argument, about your flat, about how painful your feet were due to the dancing and stupid shoes you’d decided to wear.

Jake left you on the phone as he got in his cab, not wasting anytime as he started the engine and all but sped to where you were. It didn’t take him long to arrive, the roads empty but streets alive with people looking for a good time on a Saturday night. He spotted you instantly. You were sat on the sidewalk, a woman and her partner next to you. Your head was in your hands as your, now bare, feet gently kicked the gravel. He swore again, partly at the state you were clearly in, but also at the remnants of annoyance he felt from the not forgotten vendetta.

Jake pulled over quickly, cap secured on his head as he exited his cab and made his way over to you. The people who were sat with you clocked him, one of them meeting the distance, explaining how they stayed with you until he got there, and that you were in a ‘pretty bad state.’ Jake thanked them, making the short way over to where you were sat, still not aware of his presence.

“Y/N,” he said simply, now stood in front of you, but you didn’t notice, too lost in the song you were humming under your breath. He sighed, kneeling in front of you, hand reaching out to touch your forearm. “Hey, c’mon, let’s go.” Your head snapped up; eyes droopy as if you had been sleeping.

“Jakeee you’re here!” You exclaimed, practically falling into his kneeling frame, catching him off guard. “Thought you wouldn’t come because you h-hate me now.” His face twisted in confusion.

“What? Your drunk, let’s get you home, c’mon. Look, I’ll help you up, on three.” You sniffled; arms wrapped around his broad shoulders as he helped manoeuvre you both up. You didn’t let go when you were standing, deciding you couldn’t stand. He was reluctant to wrap an arm around your waist, still slightly angry, but more worried it would offend you. But it was clear it was what you needed as you tumbled, shakily attempting to walk to his car- or, rather, a complete stranger’s car. “Fuck, taking too long, just, walk faster.” You did as he said, maybe too literally, as your arms began to get suffocating, as he gripped your waist, helping you both walk to his cab.

You giggled as his hands unknowingly tickled your side when he helped you get into the passengers seat. “Smells funny in here.” You chuckled, taking an exaggerated sniff of the air. Jake knew it was his cigars he snuck, but chose to ignore you, going to shut the door. “WAIT WHERE ARE YOU- DON’T LEAVE ME!!” your sudden rise in volume made him jump, and he came back as soon as he left.

“I’m getting in the car, ay.” Before turning back and saying, “Seatbelt.”

“Nonono I can’t do it, won’t get in the… thingy.” Jake had the sudden urge to kick something, forgetting how frustrating drunk you can be, especially when sober. He exhaled deeply through his nose before muttering a ‘fine.’ You gasped as he leant over you, face awfully close to you own, so much so he could smell the alcohol on your breath. You couldn’t help but chuckle again as his gloved hand came down by your side, fumbling for the seatbelt and eventually getting it in the buckle.

It was then you thought of the most hilarious idea ever. As he went to get back up, you wrapped your arms round his shoulder and pulled him, so he nearly collapsed back down onto your lap. You let out a belly laugh, tears squeezing your eyes as he shouted, “QUE MIERDA!” He got out, shutting the door slightly louder than usual as he strode to his seat in the front. “Always playing, I swear, estúpido when drinking,”

The car was filled with your chuckles, as if Jake had told a joke, but he was deadly silent. What could he say? You were intoxicated. He couldn’t be mad at you right now, not when you wouldn’t remember it. But he didn’t want to be nice to you, still angry, still not ready to put it behind him completely. He was looking forward to get back to the flat where it would become his alters problem.

And truthfully, the smell of your perfume was beginning to intoxicate his senses.

When the flat finally came into view, Jake breathed a sigh of relief. This, however, diminished when he heard your soft snores filling the small space of the cab. He internally cussed at himself, having previously wondered why you had gone suddenly quiet, realising he would not only have to wake you up, but get you inside.

Jake turned the key in the ignition, engine shutting off with a slight groan. He pinched the bridge of his nose lightly, dreading the moments from now until later. “Why has the road stopped moving?” The voice your voice, broke him from his worries, and when he turned to face you, your eyes were already desperately on his.

“Hasn’t, we have. Gotta get out now.”

“W-Wait, your leaving me again? Please don’t leave me here!” Jake felt something in his chest pang with sadness, but he pushed it away, remembering you were drunk and had little control over your heartfelt pleas.

“ ‘m not leaving you, look, we’re getting out the car together, yeah?” He demonstrated opening the door, motioning for you to do the same, and with a small smile of relief, you did. “There ya go.” He praised lightly as you copied his actions. “Now wait there, I’ll come an’ get you.”

“M’kay, Jakey, I’ll wait.” Fuck. The feeling was back in his chest, harder to push away this time. He did, however, ignore it, long enough to reach where you were sat obediently awaiting him. “Your back!” You quipped excitedly, hands reaching for him in a childlike manner. He didn’t answer, instead helped you up, felt goosebumps arise with every touch of your skin, felt his neck burn as your warm breezed over it.

The journey to the flat wasn’t as hard as he had envisioned. Once you got the hang of walking again, you were off, with his support, of course. You had made it to the door, Jake feeling instant relief wash over him as one of his alters promised it would be their turn. “Marc’s turn now, ‘kay? He’s gonna help- hey, listen, did’ya hear me?”

“Yes, Jake.” You try to say but it comes out as a laugh. “Stay safe.” His voice is stern, but the concern is there, hidden amongst the small façade he always has up. And then his eyes are rolling back, and Jake Lockley is gone for the night- instead, Marc’s there, eyes even harder than his alters. He says nothing as he unlocked the door to the flat, pushing it open with his foot as his arm comes around your waist. You hardly react to the contact, allowing him to guide you through the familiar haze of the apartment, the place that so often felt like home, even when all your senses were torn to shreds.

“Marc…” You suddenly let out, and he notices the buzz on your face has diminished, the way it always does by the end of the night.

“What?” He doesn’t mean to be short with you, really. But a part of him, much like Jake, still held a sort of bitterness- as he always has after an argument.

“Feel sick.” His own stomach drops as he springs into action, cussing loudly as he all but rushes you to the bathroom. Your cheeks are dramatically puffed with air as you gag, Marc barely getting you to the toilet in time before your spilling the remnants of the night into the basin. He sighed, one hand on firmly on your shoulder, helping hold you up, and the other rubbing soft circles on your back.

“C’mon, there you go, get it all out.” You do, until your insides are aching, and head is pounding. Finally, the sick ends. You practically fall backward, Marc barely catching you as he guides you to lean against the wall, figuring that would be an easier task than standing you back up.

“Hurts.” You whisper, burying your face in your hands, knees to your chest. “Your head?” Marc asks, but he already knows that’s the answer.

“My heart.” Oh. He turned to look at you, properly, for the first time since you came into the flat; you look terrible. Your top is hanging off your body, the action of leaning over the basin making it scramble to stay on right. Your mascara is smudged from tears. Your eyes are struggling to stay open, drooping further by the minute, and your hair has become a mess on top of your head.

Yet, Marc can’t help but think you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever laid his eyes upon.

No matter what situation you all found yourselves in, he would always think that. Always.

When he next spoke, the edge to his voice was gone, replaced with a layer of sympathy and compassion- not that you noticed, nor particularly cared. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” He helped you stand up on your feet, trying to ignore your soft sniffles as you came down form the high of a night out. He couldn’t help but swipe a tear away from your cheek, leaving his thumb for a second longer than he knew he should, just to revel in your skin.

He started by wiping off as much of your make-up as he could, using one of the wipes you had stocked in his cupboard. When he turned on the tap, you groaned. “Hey, it’s okay, look, it’ll help your headache.”

“Noo, ‘s cold.”

“It’ll feel nice.”

“Promise?”

“Yes.”

“Pinkie promise?” Marc rolled his eyes as you held up your pinkie finger but didn’t refuse it. Instead, he interlocked his own with yours, grateful to see a least the hint of a smile tugging at the end of your lips. The water did ,in fact, offer some comfort from the heat and sweat on your skin, and you thanked Marc for keeping his promise. “Good job. Wanna brush your teeth?”

“You still have my toothbrush.” It was the first coherent sentence you had said in a while. He followed to where you were pointing, your toothbrush stood proudly with the boys. “Course, we do. It’s only been a few days.” “Thought you’d throw it away by now.”

“What d’you mean?”

“That you don’t love me anymore.” Marc swore his heart broke a little. His thoughts became jumbled, swirling around each other as he took in your words.

“What… are you, are you serious?”

“Can you do it for me?”

“Huh?” It took a moment for him to register what you were asking until you grabbed your toothbrush and held it out for him.

“Please?” Perhaps it was your pleading, or your eyes whilst saying it, but Marc couldn’t resist, taking the toothbrush and getting it ready. It was silly, really silly, especially since your mouth was already open as wide as it could be, teeth on display. Marc cleared his throat, debating on whether this was a task he wanted to do, before deciding the sooner he did, the sooner you could go to sleep. And so, he did.

You didn’t react at first, not even when Marc talked you through the first step. But suddenly, you found the situation rather amusing, a giggle leaving your lips as Marc brushed your back teeth. “What?” You didn’t respond at first, just laughed, and he found himself laughing too.

“’s weird.” You whispered, a hiccup escaping your mouth as Marc agreed.

“Certainly didn’t think I’d be doing this tonight, that’s for sure.”

“Sorry that I ruined your plans.”

“Yeah, well, your lucky I love you.” It came out so naturally, without question, that even in your drunken state, you knew he meant it. It was silent for the rest of the minute. When you were done, Marc told you to spit, which you did immediately. Marc suddenly realised what you were wearing. “Oh shit, wait here, lemme get you some clothes.”

“But I’m wearing clothes.”

“Clothes to sleep in.”

“…oh.” You said suggestively, and Marc raised an eyebrow.

“Stop messin’ around, need to get you changed.”

“Okay, Marc.”

“You gonna wait here?”

“Whatever you say, Marc.” His heart dropped every time you said his name, as if it were given a different meaning every time it left your lips. He was back quickly with one of the tops from the draw you had in their flat, the one he knew was your favourite.

“Arms up, baby.” The name slipped out, but you didn’t notice- it might’ve well as been your name from him. You obliged, silent now. He was grateful that the task didn’t take long, and soon enough, you were dressed comfortably. “All done.” He muttered, mostly to himself, but you smiled, reaching for his hand.

“Thank you, Marc.” He let his thumb rub over the skin of your palm, let his eyes lock with yours, pupils dilated. And then it wasn’t his eyes you were staring at anymore. “Hello, Steven.” You whispered, smiling.

“Hiya, lovie. Let’s get you to bed, yeah?” He had already helped you up, hand still holding yours as he directed you the short distance to the bed.

“Why, Mr Grant, are you trying to get me into bed?”

“Very funny. C’mon, your very tired, practically fallin’ asleep walking, eh? Besides, your much too drunk to do anything expect from sleep peacefully. Look, I’ll tuck you in so you can do just that.” Steven pulled the duvet back for you to climb into the bed, and you instantly found comfort in their smell, the sheets that moulded against your body so well. It was familiar, it was home.

Steven kept his promise, pulling the duvet tightly over your body so that it was hugging you. He even went as far as lifting your head up with one hand plumping the pillow behind it, before gently placing it back down. “All better.” He muttered, proud at his work of making you a human cocoon.

“Thank you, Steven.”

“Your very welcome. Do you need anything?” You shook your head, eyes already closing from the undeniable comfort of the sheets.

“Okay. Welp, if you change your mind, gimme a shout, okay? I’ll just be on the sofa.” Your eyes shot back open, realisation hitting as you felt his presence leaving your side.

“No, wait, w-where are you going? Why are you leaving me?” Your eyes were getting watery as your hand reached out to tug on Steven’s shirt.

“No-no-no, ‘m not leaving you, would never leave you… I’m just over there, look.” You didn’t glance as he tried to show you the sofa, eyes trained on his own.

“Please…can you stay with me?” His eyes widened slightly, not sure if he should, not sure if you would wake up and be mad at him for staying in the same bed after not being on speaking terms. But the pout on your lips, the gentle tug on his shirt, the tears in your eyes… he agreed, slowly getting into the bed next to you.

He was surprised when you instantly snuck out his warmth, snuggling into his side and breathing a sigh of relief. His arms sought place on your frame- one over your shoulders, the other stroking the back of your neck. He thought you were asleep when your breathing got heavier, until your voice spoke again.

“Steven?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you angry at me?” He smiled, shaking his head, though you couldn’t see.

“No, love.”

“Really?”

“Course not. It’s in the past, yeah? Let’s just focus on getting you rested and better.”

“So you’ll stay with me?”

“All night long ‘till the sun comes up.”

“Steven?”

“Yes, darling?”

“Thank you for taking care ‘f me.”

“Of course, love.” And he smiled as he heard your gentle snores, feeling on the cusp of sleep himself. “Always.”

tags: @dalia-12-3 @kotonei-molyneux @lovepeaceorelse @lokilover476 @alexxavicry @later-gators12

#Moon Knight #moon knight imagine #moon knight angst #moon knight ff #moon knight fluff #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #jake lockely x reader #steven grant #marc spector #jake lockely #steven grant fanfiction #jake lockley fanfiction #marc spector fanfiction #fluff #angst

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wardenparker · 11 months

Text

The Viper’s Bride - ch 6

Oberyn Martell x female reader x Ellaria Sand x OC Co-written with @absurdthirst

The second Prince of Dorne has lived under the illusion that he would not be forced to wed for his entire life. He has enough lovers and illegitimate children to make him a legend across Westeros, and the love of his soulmate Ellaria Sand to content him. But a contract between his brother and a lord from the north will catapult him into a match that may prove to be as complicated as it is intriguing. Especially when he learns that you already have a soulmate of your own.

Rating: E for Explicit Word Count: 11.3k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: terrible parents, age gap 10+ years, arranged marriage, classicism, cursing, food and alcohol, internalized homophobia. Reader is described as having hair long enough to braid* Anger, arguments, hurt/comfort, Oberyn and Ellaria having some group sex as they do, a whole lot of tears, an intense lack of sexual education, homophobia, reference to past killings, angst. Summary: Misunderstandings and high tension after King Joffrey’s murder, leading to volatile moods for nearly everyone. Notes: Internalized homophobia and a lack of sex education is such an intensely important set of topics to me, and being able to address them with such sex and sexuality positive characters like Oberyn and Ellaria is a beautiful personal catharsis. 🧡💛✨

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5

As soon as possible, Oberyn ushered you, Ellaria and Raeden back to the brothel. The panic on the streets is settling in as word spreads. The fear of war or change always affects the lower rungs of society in a more base way than the nobles’ petty squabbling. Once in the safety of the rooms, his eyes cut over to Raeden. “You will stay with our lovers at all times outside these walls.” He orders. “I do not know now when we will be able to leave King’s Landing, but we should be cautious.”

“They will never be beyond my reach.” He promises, his hands twitching to reach out and offer comfort but unsure of himself in this situation. Dancing with Ellaria and offering her comfort are two different things, and you had spent your entire day at the prince’s side with such seeming happiness. Until the moment of tragedy, of course.

The death of the king has unnerved Oberyn far greater than he has led on. Not because the pompous little shit is dead, no he found that to be most satisfying. The way he died was what concerned the prince. Poison. The manner of demise that the Prince of Dorne has implemented many times and is well known for. The fact that he had not been accused of anything was merely because Cersei’s grief had left her unable to hatch her schemes quick enough to implicate him along with Tyrion. When the king started to choke and turn purple, both you and Ellaria had been on the cusp of taking a sip of your own goblets, causing Oberyn to knock them out of your hands most violently. Striding over to Raeden, he cups the back of the taller man’s head, dragging him closer. “Accept nothing from any noble.” He hisses.

"Nothing, your Grace." This side of the man is the face of a warrior, and it is a face that Raeden recognizes. There is worry there, concern, and while that does give the younger man pause it is good see that his concern is for the two women and not just for himself like other nobles. "There will be invitations, though," he needs to make the prince aware of that, if nothing else.

“They come through me.” Oberyn insists before he pauses. It would be suspicious if he were to change the way he normally acts so he shakes his head. “Inform me.” He decides. “And you will be with them at every moment. Not a drop of wine passes their lips unless it is checked.”

"We are not under suspicion, are we?" As shaken as you are, you have been sitting in a tangle with Ellaria to ground yourself and seek comfort. The last thing you had expected was to be pulled into Queen Margaery's arms and be on full display in front of the entire court as she trembled in grief.

“The king was just murdered.” Oberyn scoffs. “Everyone is under suspicion, though Cersei will use this to hang her brother. But we cannot be too cautious.” He warns. “Others may use it as an opportunity to take advantage.” While he is a second son, he is still important to Dorne.

"Oberyn's knowledge of poisons is well known," Ellaria explains to you quietly, patience in her voice as she hugs you to her side. "As is his hatred of the Lannisters. Even if they do not suspect he poisoned the boy's wine himself, it is not a stretch to believe that he may have had a hand in things. We must all be cautious."

Oberyn nods as he watches Raeden’s eyes narrow with understanding. “Yes. We have to be cautious.”

"What a hellish day." You sigh quietly, curling in on yourself and deflating away from Ellaria's side as everything begins to catch up with you. To begin the day worrying about something as trivial as a bath, to go through arguments and confusion and guilt, and to come out on the other end having witnessed a murder is making your head spin. "I think...I will retire?" Looking up at the prince for permission, you feel like a child all over again. "If you do not require me, that is. Sleep is sometimes the best remedy for an unhappy day."

He lets go of the man who bears your marks and he nods. “Of course.” He murmurs quietly. “Take your Raeden with you and rest, unless you wish to have the comfort of multiple bodies.” He offers. “Then you are welcome to the bed here.”

"There will be no pleasure for me tonight." Standing two feet from a dying man has erased that need from your body and mind for the foreseeable future, and you shake your head. "I may read, but sleep is preferable to feeling sick."

“Comfort does not always mean pleasure.” Oberyn reminds you, frowning slightly as he takes your comment as an insult towards him. “Goodnight, Princess.” He moves towards Ellaria and pulls the other woman into his arms.

The light in his eyes extinguishes when he is displeased, you have already noticed, and in the moment before he turns away from you he is supremely displeased. Without the presence of mind to understand exactly what you have said wrong, you all but flee to the adjoining bedroom. The man is mercurial and fascinating, but until you learn his ways and his meanings you fear you may misstep more often than not.

“She did not mean it that way, lover.” Ellaria hums, reaching up to wrap her arms around Oberyn’s neck to comfort him. Scoffing, he shakes his head. “It was meant.” He grunts, his own sigh far heavier than perhaps he understands himself. Your judgement of him is something that he finds far harder to cast off than most. “So I dare not disappoint her expectations.”

“Two days is not long enough to know a person’s mind,” she tuts softly. “And she watched a man die today. For the first time. That can be difficult to process.”

There is a rational side of Oberyn that understands that, but right now he doesn’t care. He grips his lover’s chin and stares into her eyes. “Call the whores in.” He orders. “Plus the ones you wished to try.”

“The one I wish to try has retreated.” Ellaria pouts at the closed door to the other room, where Raeden had dutifully followed you. “No matter. Is Ser Loras joining us tonight?”

Oberyn shakes his head. “Another time. The man has decided to comfort his sister.”

“Ah.” She nods, understanding that Oberyn feels rejected on two fronts and not simply one. “I will see who is available for us.”

“I don’t care if they are available.” Oberyn grunts, pulling away and striding quickly over to the table to pour a glass of wine before he stares into the cup and sniffs it. “Get them here.” He orders before he takes a sip. “And tell Littlefinger they will be in my bed for the rest of the night.”

Ellaria nods, saying nothing and certainly not pointing out that Oberyn twists his face in exactly the same way that their oldest daughter does when she throws a tantrum for not getting her way. Instead she simply glides from the room, knowing she will have to come back with a bevy of willing bodies in order to calm him tonight.

His jaw is clenched, hand gripping the goblet as he stares at the door that has shut off his view of you and your soulmate. There is a divide between you and for the first time since you had busted into his room and demanded his protection, he regrets marrying you.

****** Undressing from Dornish gowns is easier than the ones you grew up with, and it takes half the time you would normally need to be in a nightdress and under the covers. Raeden has not joined you, not yet, but you barely notice from how distant he has felt since you spoke this morning. Perhaps no one wishes for your company tonight. That would be disappointing but not a surprise.

It is only ten minutes from the dismissal of your company from his presence that the noises start to come from Prince Oberyn’s chambers. Making Raeden quickly step back from the door and hastily start removing his sword and armor to distract himself.

Any attempt to read will now be in vain, and you put down your book on the table beside the bed. This is precisely what you could not stomach for yourself tonight – physical pleasure would only make your roiling stomach feel much worse and you sigh into the night air.

"I have never known you to judge how people behave." Raeden comments, slightly disappointed in your sigh. It reinforces his fear that you will reject him if he were to confide his secrets to you. "Yet you judged your husband."

“I judged nothing,” you insist, surprised to hear him think so. “It is simply that I do not crave to be touched tonight. Is that so terribly wrong after seeing a man murdered?”

Raeden turns to you, his robes discarded and just the soft shirt underneath cladding his chest. "My love...you husband did not offer to fuck you." He hums. "He was offering you the safety of his bed for comfort, just comfort. And you rejected him most curtly."

Frowning when you turn to look at him, the air of having done wrong hangs over you and makes shame twist inside you alongside the guilt you have felt for hours. “You sound as though you want me to go to him.”

"I doubt you would care for what you would see if you entered his chamber now." He shakes his head and frowns. "I will not have any opinion of your actions, my princess." He offers stiffly.

“Gods above, will everyone stop calling me that?” Despite it being your husband’s title, you feel no connection to it, and you end up sitting straight up in bed. “I welcome your opinion, Raeden. I treasure it. But when no one around me will speak plainly is it my fault for misunderstanding?”

Raeden's jaw clenches and he doesn't move, doesn't soften to comfort you like he would have only days before. He cannot. Not when things have shifted so drastically, and he is feeling as if is being tossed about in a storm on the Narrow Sea. "Then I shall remain silent so there is no chance of misinterpretation."

In a flurry of frustration, you nearly throw yourself out of the luxurious bed and stamp across the room, flinging yourself onto the chaise under the windows instead. If he is going to be rude and dismissive then you want nothing to do with him, either. “Good night, ser.” You grit out before extinguishing the final candle and plunging the room into darkness.

Raeden stands in the darkness, anger and shame twisting in his gut. Along with the arousal that every moan and cry of pleasure from next door fosters in his loins. Instead of begging for your forgiveness or relighting the candles, he gathers his armor and his sword in the darkness before leaving your chambers. "Good night, princess." He murmurs before shutting it behind him.

******

“Raeden?” From her position between Leyth’s legs, Ellaria spies him the second he appears dressed only in his undershirt and a frown while carrying his armor. “Has something happened?”

"Forgive me." His eyes shift uncomfortably away from the scene of absolute debauchery in front of him. Trying not to hear the sounds of skin slapping as your husband doesn't pause in his thrusts into the buxom whore under him. "I— I just need to—" He gestures towards the door that leads out into the hallway of the brothel. He will redress and stand guard outside the chambers where his soulmate and her husband are sleeping. Instead of going out of the door from your chambers to the hallway, he had fucked up and entered Oberyn's chamber.

“You are welcome to join us if you wish.” She reminds him, doubting but hopeful that he might be enticed.

The shake of his head is quick, almost violent. "I—I cannot." He grunts, eyes falling on a male whore who is laying on his stomach, obviously resting or preparing to rejoin the group. "My apologies for disturbing you."

As quickly as he appeared, he is gone again. Out through the door that leads to the hallway where no one but passersby will encounter the weary knight.

In the dim light from the torches, Raeden redresses, leaning against the wall as he stands between the two doors that lead to the chambers. One he is unwelcomed in right now, one he desperately wants to enter but cannot. Not if he wishes to keep his soulmate.

******

The next morning when Leyth's familiar face delivers fresh wine and a tray of delicacies to break your fast with, you barely stir on the chaise. You had not moved back to the bed after Raeden stormed out last night and you had cried yourself in and out of rest through most of the night. The pillow you finally fell asleep on is stained from tears and it is surely the worst night you have spent in weeks – since finding out you would be destined to marry a man who was not your soulmate. At least then you had had Raeden to comfort you for a time.

Raeden's eyes are heavy, staring between the doors as he stands watch. He had not slept. Keeping guard over your rooms as was his station and duty. Unable to rest, his spine stiffens slightly when he hears your soft groans as you start to wake. He missed holding you, being close to you. But you had wished to be alone so he had granted your wish. The door to Oberyn's suite slips open again and another two naked women file sleepily out of the room, besides Leyth, the man and another woman had left earlier.

The day holds no appeal for you whatsoever, with the people closest to you seemingly all upset with you, and you send Leyth away as politely as you can without dressing. No one wishes to see you and you do not wish to see them if they feel that way, so you will stay here and read. Even food holds no appeal for you, which is a change from your normal self indeed. Since Raeden had not returned at any point you have to assume - with regret and something else that you cannot or will not name – that he spent the night in another bed. A whore's maybe, or even Ellaria's, and that thought brings a whole new wave of tears.

******

“Good morning, lover.” Oberyn frowns, his eyes still closed, although his arms open to allow Ellaria to snuggle into his chest. “How was your sleep?” He asks groggily, still tired and sated from the activities of the previous night.

"Someone was snoring," she chuckles softly, crawling a few inches to deposit herself in Oberyn's arms. "How did you sleep, my love?"

“Better than I imagined.” Oberyn hums, rubbing her back gently. “Better than the cold bed next door.”

"What do you think happened?" Doubtful that you would have dismissed Raeden or that he would have left without some kind of deep disagreement, Ellaria frowns even as she places a kiss on Oberyn's shoulder.

Oberyn rolls his eyes and sighs. The hurt he had been dealt last night for offering you solace was not quite healed. “No doubt her lover tried to comfort her and was tossed out on his ass.” He snorts. “I dare not ask so I am not accused of suggesting an orgy.”

Ellaria almost groans, leveling her soulmate with a dubious glare. “Have we not learned that she is sheltered?” She reminds him, sitting up against the pillows at the head of the bed. "You offered her the comfort of multiple bodies and she took your meaning to be literal. That is not a sin, Oberyn. Only foolish."

“As you say.” He grumbles, the stubbornness of most Martells is enhanced in the second son. “Despite my repeated reassurances that I would not force her.”

"And you have not. She thought she was declining an offer." The fact that his mind and his reason seem to be clouded by you is worth noting, but Ellaria knows her soulmate well enough to know that he is still wounded, so she will not press his pride. "As for Raeden, I do not know what might have happened. But certainly your bride had a very lonely night."

“Where do you think he spent his night?” Oberyn wonders. “He would not even look at the brunette as I was plowing her field, so I doubt he spent the night between the thighs of a whore.”

"You ordered him to protect the princess," Ellaria reminds him, having seen which door Raeden went out when he retreated last night. "So I expect he stood guard all night as he was told."

He huffs, sitting up and rolling his eyes. “Gods old and new save me from these two literal creatures.” He groans, shifting so he can move to the edge of the bed and stand up. You and your soulmate are going to be the death of him.

Raeden's back straightens like a plank when the door to his right opens to reveal the prince draped in his untied robe looking bleary eyed as though he has just awoken. "Your Grace." He manages to stifle a yawn, swallowing it down and looking straight ahead to mask his tired features.

"Gods’ fool." Oberyn hisses, knowing immediately that the man has not slept for a moment. "I did not mean for you to stay awake all night." He motions Raeden over towards him. "Come. You will sleep before you fall down where you stand."

If he had his mind, he would argue that he could not protect you while asleep in a different room, but Raeden is altogether too weary for such a debate and nods dutifully before following the prince into the large chamber with its oversized and overstuffed bed. Just the night before it had been swarming with writhing bodies, but now it is simply disheveled as it stands empty in the center of the room.

“Strip your clothes and sleep.” Oberyn grunts as he moves over towards the table to grab a cup of wine. Needing to wash his mouth clean of sleep before he takes his lover to the bathing chamber to wipe her skin clean of cum.

“It is not the longest watch I have stood, my lord,” Raeden insists, though he is unbearably tired. Ill thoughts are a taxing burden and make a man weary all on their own.

“I do not make my men stand watch until they are too tired to fuck or fight.” Oberyn scoffs. “You will sleep, your princess is still safely pouting in her chambers.”

Having felt the sting of your rejection himself, Raeden says nothing to defend or condemn you. He says nothing at all, but weakly strips down and crawls under the plush blankets strewn across the prince’s bed. You will come looking for company when you are ready. You always do.

It is telling that the man almost immediately falls asleep. Making Oberyn smirk as he watches him for a moment before turning his attention back to his paramour. "Come." He urges her quietly. "We will spend a lazy morning in the bath while the lovers recover from their trying night apart."

“Poor dears,” Ellaria clicks her tongue and shakes her head, but leaves it at that as she follows Oberyn out of the room. You will both be fine, as long as you stop being stubborn and reach out. Although, the same could often be said of Oberyn.

Sleep comes easy for a soldier. He is used to falling asleep quickly and waking just as fast. Now, with the emotional turmoil of the night, he is exhausted and seems to be asleep right before his head hits the incredibly soft pillow. Dreaming of you, Oberyn and Ellaria twisted together in passion and laughing together as he stands off to the side. Rejected like he always has been.

******

It is well past midday when you finally emerge from your chamber, sheepishly intending to offer apologies to those you upset last night. It evaporates in the face of Raeden’s still-sleeping form laid out bare in your husband’s bed. The sharp intake of your own breath barely comes before a sob, and all at once you are fleeing behind your chamber door again with a violent slam.

The slamming of the door rouses Raeden, making him groan as he lifts his head and looks around sleepily. "My love?" He croaks softly, confused about where he is since he had been sleeping so soundly. He blinks and rolls over, the memory of Oberyn ordering him to sleep coming back to him and he realizes he fell asleep in the prince's bed. He wonders where the prince and his lover are, remembering that they had been there when he had climbed into the bed.

Unable to distinguish exactly why you feel so betrayed to see Raeden in the bed the prince and his soulmate normally occupy, you fling yourself onto your own bed instead and bury your face in a new pillow to soak it through with fresh tears. It feels as if a dagger has been shoved through your heart and twisted, leaving you ragged and breathless for reasons you can neither articulate nor separate. All you know, in that moment, is that the other half of your soul saw you in pain and instead of reaching out a hand to help you, he became as unyielding as his name and sought pleasure from others while you were raw and wretched.

Groaning, Raeden sits up and he rubs his hand over his face. Wondering if you are still in your room, he shuffles to his feet and walks over to the door. “My love?” He croaks out, knocking softly.

If you had a prayer of hearing the weak motion normally, it certainly would never have been heard over the muffled sound of your own tears blocking your ears. There may as well be no one else in the world for the kind of alone you feel in this moment.

He opens the door when he doesn’t hear you call out. Still sleepy enough that your muffled sobs don’t register as he calls your name. “Are you awake?” For all he knows, you have decided to sleep the day away. He steps into the bedroom and closes the door behind him, still nude.

His voice is a surprise, finally near and loud enough to hear, and you shove yourself up to sitting only for the dignity of not being seen sprawled out like a sobbing child. "Of course I am awake. It is past mid-day." You cut out, desperately trying to wipe your eyes. "I take it you enjoyed your night very thoroughly without me."

Raeden blearily rubs his eyes and frowns in confusion. “What?” He asks, instantly annoyed at your tone. “What are you talking about?” After so little sleep, he is not functioning at peak condition.

"I recognize that I was not pleasant company last night and I had intended to apologize for that, but I stepped out from my room to find you sleeping very soundly in my husband's bed. Naked. As you are now." Halfway between hurt and anger lies jealousy, and the ugliness of it twists inside you like a serpent. It makes you mean when you do not want to be, needy for the same frustration in others that you feel in yourself. "I hope that it was worthwhile."

The sleepiness is instantly gone and all that Raeden sees is the anger, the disgust on your face, hurt it in your voice. You think that he slept with your husband, or maybe his paramour and he knows he was right now not to share himself with you. “Exceedingly, Princess.” He stiffens, jaw clenched and his heart shatters, knowing that the love he thought he had does not exist. “No apologies are necessary. I am but a servant.” Bare assed, Raeden bows mockingly and moves to the door.

If he heard the wretched sob that came from your mouth after the door closed behind him, he gave no indication. Raeden only returned to the bedside where he had awoken to retrieve his clothing, dressing again with an unmoving continence and automatic movements.

******

Unaware that turmoil and angst are afoot, Oberyn sighs, completely rejuvenated after his bath with Ellaria. “I should let the girl come to me.” He argues as they walk hand in hand, dressed in nothing more than silk robes and their hair wet from scrubbing.

"I wonder that you think so, being the father of eight daughters." She tells him flatly, but squeezes his hand to show she is not upset with him. "She does not know how to trust you yet and the last words spoken between you were in anger. At least show her that you are no longer upset."

Oberyn bites his lip and frowns, feeling that his lover is making a good argument. While he had felt his innocent gesture had been taken as an insult, you did not know him well enough to understand that he does know that not everything can be fixed by a romp in a bed. “I will speak with her before waking Raeden to dress.” He decides, looking at the woman who has stood by his side for nearly twenty years. The woman who wears his makes and is half of his soul.

"Take her for a walk." Ellaria suggests, leaning over to place a kiss on his shoulder as they walk together. "Or share a meal with her. Something that she would consider...normal." There is always the chance that you will not want to see or speak with him, but she does not think you are a cross enough person to have that anger in you. Stubborn, perhaps. But your soul seems to be a bright one most of the time.

"I will show her the markets along the waterfront." He remembers how much you seemed to enjoy the sounds and smells of the waterfront. "I will drop in to speak with her and then come back to dress."

"She will be safe with you, and you will be seen being unafraid in the chaos of the day." Ellaria nods, clearly approving of his decision. "It will be good for both of you."

He kisses her hand and stops in front of the door that leads to the room you are occupying. “If she is unwilling to talk, I will leave her to sulk. And we will venture out.”

"I will go and check on our slumbering knight in the meantime." She tells him with a grin.

“My sun, my world.” He promises her with a tender kiss to her lips. Far more intimate than most exchanges of lips in this establishment.

"My beloved." Unable to let him go without one more kiss, Ellaria hums in satisfaction and flits away, pushing through the door to his left to go in search of their Ser Raeden.

Oberyn had thought to knock for a brief moment, but he did not wish for you to ignore him. Instead, he opens the door and slides inside the room to speak with you.

The crying has stopped, thank the gods in their heavens, or at least it has paused. When you hear the door scrape open you feel heavy and exhausted from so many tears and barely move from your place in the bed. "If you have come to be angry with me again, Raeden, I cannot stomach it," you manage despite your scratchy throat.

“What would have your Ser Raeden upset with you?” Oberyn frowns, unhappy to see that you have been obviously crying. “The man was sleeping yet an hour ago.”

This was not at all the voice you were expecting, and it wrenches a dry, cracked sob from you by way of surprise. "Aye. He was. Exhausted from a night that I had no part in, I take it."

He pauses, confused by your meaning and then it clicks. The man had stripped down, taking Oberyn’s order literally. You must have seen him sleeping while he and Ellaria were in the baths. “Gods help me.” He groans, striding over to the table and pouring you a cup of wine to soothe your throat. He shakes his head as he walks towards you. “Your lover stood guard outside the chambers all night after your spat. Guarding his princess.” He explains. “While I take no issue with having him in my bed, the man was only there to rest. After I had awoken for the day.”

Pulling the robe over your nightdress back onto your shoulders from where it has become disheveled, you look up at the prince with genuine confusion clouding your eyes. "He would have said so. Surely?" At least...you hope that he would have. But he has not been himself lately. "He has acted so strangely the last few days it is like I hardly know him anymore."

“Did you ask, or did you accuse?” Oberyn asks you bluntly. “I offered last eve to send the whores away for the night and let my wife be comforted by a bed filled with her lover, her husband and her friend only to be told that the thought pleasure was revolting. As if I was crass for offering.”

You tilt your head at him, sniffling back more tears, and hold the wine he has handed you in trembling hands. "I did not—" A wave of shame washes over you and makes your stomach turn to boot, and your head drops to match it. "I did not understand that you meant to send them away," you admit quietly. "You offered me bodies for comfort and I...I misunderstood. But I had thought to turn down the offer kindly. My only fear was in disappointing you."

“Ellaria surmised as much.” Oberyn sighs and steps closer. While you are not as young as he had feared when learning of you, you are still very sheltered. His hand reaches out to caress your shoulder and offer the warmth of his arms if you would like it. “I would not lie to you. Your lover has not received any pleasure in my bed beyond the hour of sleep he had stolen.”

Shifting over slightly on the bed makes enough space for him to sit, and you nearly hold your breath until he takes it, afraid of misreading a gesture again. More than anything, what you have craved since last night is safety as much as comfort. What happened to the king was unimaginably cruel and violent and what little sleep you had was marked with nightmares from it. "I had intended to apologize to you when I left my room some time ago. But being so unpleasant last night. But I—I saw him in your bed and I...I assumed..."

“Star, I admit that I had my fill of lovers last night.” He will not lie to you. “It would have shocked you to see what was happening in that room. Your Raeden would not even look at the whore I was fucking when he burst in. He had stood sentinel during the night so you would be safe.” Oberyn reaches over and covers your hand with his own. “It has been a taxing few days for you. I will not stay angry at small miscommunications like this.”

"It is not the lovers that I mind." It never has been. Although the realization of exactly how prolific his sex drive is was a certain amount of shocking, it does not offend or upset you. "Take as many as you like, continue on as you have been, that does not upset me." You remind yourself to breathe, and to drink the wine that was brought to you to soothe your throat. "What upsets me is feeling as if I am not wanted or needed. Or, worse, feeling as though I am in the way."

“You feel as if you are not wanted?” He is confused by that because he has mentioned several times that he would like to have you in his bed. “I am afraid I do not understand.” He confesses. “My lover and I would like you in our bed, not just to make you writhe with pleasure. And your Raeden is your soulmate. He wants nothing more than to be with you.”

"He did." But you are convinced that something has changed in him. "Last night he refused to speak to me when I wanted nothing more than to be understood." Taking the chance on leaning closer to him, the warmth of the prince beside you is more comforting than you would have expected. "Yesterday at the wedding he said we did not know the difference between lust and love. He has been a very different man since arriving in King's Landing."

“I am afraid that my paramour and I have caused friction between the two of you.” Oberyn sighs. “I must apologize to you for that. I never wanted to come between you as soulmates.” He frowns and tries to decide what might be best for you and your lover. “Would you like to talk to him?” Oberyn shifts and wraps his arm around your shoulders.

"I would not know what to say." You were both so angry when he came in just a little while ago. So filled with venom and unhappiness. "Perhaps he was correct, and I do not know my feelings at all. I cannot say anymore."

“Speak from your heart.” He urges you, reaching over and touching your chest where it beats. “You love him. Sometimes you must fight for what you love.”

He means well, you are certain that he does. But when he reaches to touch your chest gently over your nightdress there is a moment where you are certain you will ignite from a simple touch. "You make it sound as though I ought to have a suit of armor."

“Perhaps you should.” He smiles at that, happy that the unhappiness in your eyes turns to mirth for a moment. “Passion outside the bed is just as important as in it.”

"Passion outside of the bed has never lacked before," you tell him honestly, feeling again that the pull of truth runs deeply between you. "I have only shared my bed with two people, and they have both been guarded secrets."

“Two?” His brow raises in surprise. “I had thought your Raeden was your only lover.”

"It has been pointed out to me that sharing a bed with someone can mean things other than lovemaking." If it can be an offer of comfort, surely it can be other things as well. "My father employs a maester to look after his library, and that maester had had a child before taking his vows. She was employed as a kitchen maid in our home. And...she was very special to me."

From your tone, he knows that this woman was far more than a ‘friend’. “She was your lover.” He is delighted that you are not as prudish as you might have seemed, exploring pleasure with another girl before your soulmate.

“Not…precisely.” As close into his side as you are, you look down into the wine in the goblet in your hands instead of over at him. “Or perhaps it is more accurate to say that we were as close to lovers as two women can be.”

“Did you touch her?” He asks, tilting his head. “Taste her skin and learn what makes her keen in pleasure?” With your literal interpretation of things, perhaps you are unaware of what being a lover means.

“Well…I…yes, but—” This need to be honest with him has let you flustered and honestly wondering how you had gotten so off course in your conversation. “But…” With his reputation surely he understands this already? “Two women cannot…there is not a way for them to make love…”

He chuckles, sliding his hand up from your chest to cup your cheek. “My dear,” he murmurs softly. “Love comes in many forms. Sex is the same. She was your lover. You touched her as a lover does.” He explains softly. “If your Raeden just uses his mouth to make your cunt spasm, do you not consider yourself to have found pleasure?”

“But that is not…it is not sex.” As crudely as you are capable of speaking about it to the person you are sharing the act with, this moment is far from that. The prince is far more experienced, worldly, and knowledgeable than you are, yet the basic fact of what you were taught remains. “For a man and a woman to come together…to find pleasure…that is different.”

"Does that mean that any man I have in my bed does not have sex because his cock is not in a cunt?" Oberyn asks, genuinely curious about your reasoning.

“I—no…you have…” You sigh, dropping your face into one upturned hand and despising yourself for turning meek in front of the man you promised yourself that you would not be a fool to. ��I have no trouble speaking of desire while receiving it, but discussing it like this appears to leave me dumbfounded.”

"There is nothing to be ashamed of." He hums, shaking his head. "The septa will not quiz you and beat your hand with a stick if you feel different that I do." He chuckles quietly and sighs softly. "You most likely felt shame at wanting your friend, touching her and wishing to touch her, no?" He asks.

"It was not to be spoken of." There was too much fear there, even at the age when other girls were beginning to be married. "She would have been sent away. Or...knowing my mother as you do now, you can imagine that it might have been worse."

"I imagine she would have had you dragged through the streets and beaten." He grunts, unhappy with the idea and cursing your mother. "And how did you act when asked about your lover? Even innocently?"

"We always said that we were reading together," you explain, huffing out a soft laugh. "She was annoyed at the idea of educated girls in her home, but lost interest after that."

"But you were fearful of someone discovering your secret." He pushes. He wants you to make the connection that he believes is why your lover is so changed since his arrival in King's Landing. He has seen the desires in the man's eyes, along with the shame.

"Of course." Her fate would have been sealed if you had been discovered. She would have been sent away at the very least. You cannot even imagine what your own punishment would have been.

"So you were guarded. Closed off." He hums. "It is smart when you do not wish to be judged."

"You are trying to make a point, but I fear I am not myself enough to understand."

"Your Ser Raeden seems to be hiding a secret." He points out gently.

"And...he fears I would judge him." It takes having the puzzle pieces laid out before you to be able to see the image they complete, but you nod solemnly. "I would not. No matter how terrible. But I thought surely that he knew how much I love him."

"Fear has a way of making you disbelieve what you know to be true." He murmurs. "You know your Raeden is loyal to you, and yet just this morning you were sure that he had shared my bed without any thought to you."

He is correct, though the feeling of discontentedness in the pit of your stomach is very uncomfortable. "I fear the situation may be more complicated than it seems."

"I will send your lover to you." Oberyn offers, patting your knee gently. "If your talk does not go how you wish, I will take you to the waterfront markets. How does that sound, star?"

"None of this is why you came to me; I do not think." While he has listened and given you admirable support, you have been exceedingly selfish with his time. "Will you tell me why you came, first?"

He hums and tilts his head. "I had come to apologize for my cross behavior." He admits. "I do not wish you to believe that I was angry at you. I was hurt, but I wanted to make amends. To offer to visit the marketplace on an outing."

"Then we should go to the marketplace." Feeling that everyone you care about was upset with you last night was not a pleasant sensation and you want nothing more than to erase it from your heart completely. "And perhaps..." A nervous swallow comes with a flustered face, but you are feeling more yourself now and braver. "Perhaps tonight we might spend time together? Not as two pairs of soulmates but...all together?"

He watches you for a moment before he nods. "That can be done." He knows that means that his usual entertainment will be placed on hold, but the ease of your relationship is more important than fucking that blonde he had seen in the baths. "After your talk with your Raeden? I must dress anyway."

"Thank you." Gratitude is not something you expected to feel today, but you certainly do.

"You are my princess." Oberyn reminds you, giving you a soft smile and leaning in to kiss your cheek. "I will send him in shortly."

"I have grown up with a view of marriage that is quite uncomfortable and certainly not encouraging," you remind him. "So I am grateful, and thankful, to find it is possible to be honest with you and be myself with you. Even if it is not always perfect."

"Perfection is boring." Oberyn smirks as he stands, caressing your cheek before he turns and walks to the doors that connect your rooms.

The waiting seems to take forever, but you dress yourself in something simple while - you assume - the prince is speaking to Raeden. By the time your chamber door reopens you are sitting at the long table with food and wine, barely picking at what was brought to you but knowing that you need something to keep your strength up.

This time when he enters your chambers, Raeden is fully dressed. Making sure that he looks as presentable as any other day had been a chore while Ellaria had chastised him as if he were a small boy. It had shamed him and now when he closes the door behind him, he stands unsure as to what to say or how to make amends.

“Raeden…” Taking a deep breath and smoothing your dress despite it being already pristine, you stand from the table and come around it. “Please allow me to apologize. I was upset last night and acted out, and I did not mean to aim those frustrations at you. Even worse, today when I had made up my mind to find you and make this apology then, I instead lashed out. You deserved none of this behavior.”

Instead of dismissing your apology with a frosty demeanor, Raeden bows his head. "I should not have left." He murmurs. "Nor should I have accepted your husband's offer of sleep." It had been an order, but the fault is still his. "It will not happen again." You are his soulmate, who the gods have determined he is supposed to be with and love. Only you. So he will do his best to honor that.

“You were exhausted. Sleep was needed.” Taking the chance to move closer to him, you step out and find that he does not shrink away from you. “My love, I know that these few days have been trying for both of us.”

"There have been many changes." He agrees diplomatically. "I do not fault you for being wary and cross." He covers your hands on his chest with his own. "I will not let you down again." Reminding himself of his duty to you, his station is necessary. He was forgetting that he was born without a name. Without a future.

“It is I who have let you down.” But the feeling of his warmth so near has you nearly sighing it is so comforting. “So many changes and I have not once asked if you are still happy. Or what could be done to make you even happier.”

"You are my soulmate." He insists. "It is more than I deserve just to touch you." He has long known that you deserve more than him, though you do not think so.

“That is not the same as being happy.” Both of your arms encompass him, Drawing him close to you in the middle of that room. “You deserve happiness.”

"Happiness is not always possible for some of us." He reminds you, even as he allows you to pull him close. "You do not need to worry about me, my love."

“Is there not a chance that it could be?” Risking pressing too hard and upsetting him, you cannot find it in you to back down from this idea. It seems to have burrowed inside of you most ardently. “I know that you wish for more than you have, love. But perhaps it is both of our fortunes that might change in Dorne, and not only mine.”

"I cannot wish for more than you." Raeden insists, clenching his jaw slightly and clutching at your hands almost desperately. "I am not discontent with you." He swallows harshly and bites his lip. "I do not understand what you are meaning."

Swallowing pride and fear, you cling to Raeden’s hands and remember the prince’s words. “May I tell you something, my love? Something that…I have been afraid to share? That I taught myself to think of with such importance?”

"You can share anything with me." There is a certain sense of irony in his statement. That he would protect you from anything, protect any secrets you might have. Even if he did not trust you with his own shameful secrets.

Managing to get him to sit with you, you pour wine into a second goblet for him and pick at the excellent fresh berries that had been sent up much earlier. “Do you remember Brynna?” You ask him after a pause, telling yourself to be brave. “The kitchen maid that I was close friends with? She married a little more than a year ago.”

Frowning slightly, he takes a sip of the wine, grateful to have something cool on his throat. He hadn't had anything to eat or drink either. "Yes, although you stopped visiting with her after you—we discovered that we were soulmates." He murmurs, feeling guilty that you had to push your friend away so that your secret bond with him was not discovered.

“Yes, I did.” It was soon after that that the maester’s daughter met her own soulmate, so your guilt had been quickly assuaged. “But I did not quit her company for the reason you might think.” Telling yourself to trust and to take the leap, you still have trouble finding his eyes. “I feared that you would reject me or be angry if you discovered her in my bed.”

He frowns even more, staring down into his cup and then up at your face, even though you will not look at him. "You—" He starts to question you and then stops, clearing his throat. "I...I see." He doesn't know if he is more confused or relieved that you have some kind of history with someone you shouldn't.

“I did not know that two women could be lovers,” you explain, feeling utterly childish about your ignorance. “To hear my septa or my brothers speak of it…a man is utterly necessary for an encounter to truly be considered lovemaking. But I—I have learned that is not so.”

Raeden takes a large gulp of his drink, his dark eyes finding yours and he pauses for a moment before he asks, "Do you— uh, prefer that?" He asks, reaching for your hand. "Does a man repulse you?"

“No!” Your hand fits into his immediately, grasping his fingers tightly as they lace through your own. “No, of course not, my love. It is only…it is different. Not better or worse, but rather…I enjoyed both. And I was very ashamed to enjoy it as much as I did, because I did not know how very natural it was. And I believe I am starting to understand that finally.” Leaning forward, you press earnest kisses to his knuckles, hoping to have cracked some kind of barrier between you. You had thought it existed so that he would not be disgusted with you, but here he is reaching for your hand. “I do not wish to keep secrets from you any longer, my love.”

"There is something I must confess to you." He croaks out, fingers squeezing yours as his heart pounds in his chest. Sweat starts to create a find sheen on his skin as his nerves starts to get the best of him. "I—I have never spoken of this to—to anyone."

“You can speak to me of anything.” You promise him, your other hand abandoning your wine to hold his tightly.

"You know that I have had lovers." He ventures softly, waiting for you to nod before he continues. It had not been a secret from you, and more acceptable since he was a man. "When I— when I was in training, my father send me to be trained by an old friend. Since he could not publicly claim me."

“That is how you came to the Vale.” You nod, having remembered the stories he had told you of his past. “Yes. I remember.”

He takes a deep breath and downs the rest of his wine. "While I was training, I had a – a friend." He confesses. "Much like your Brynna."

“Would you tell me about her?” It is no matter to you that he had other lovers. You know he has. Perhaps he feels shame or guilt for having loved her? But that does not matter to you in the least.

"His name was Alren." He chokes out. "He was the fourth son of Lord Royce." He explains, unable to look you in the face for fear of your reaction. He has never spoken of this, never dreamed of speaking of this with you.

“Oh.” Tightening your hold on his hand, you see those impregnable puzzle pieces slide into place. “And it was Alren who was your lover?”

"He was." Raeden confesses. "I—it was secret, it had to be. Until—"

“Oh, my love…” When his eyes drop and his shoulders draw in on themselves, you lean down to kiss his knuckles again. “Something happened to him?”

"He— someone discovered his...tastes and Lord Royce was not a man who accepted such things out of his son, fourth or no." His hands curl into fists and he lets out a ragged breath. "His lord father beat him to death in front of every boy there. Demanding the name of his lover. While I watched, helpless to save him." Alren had screamed out, begging him not to come forward. To save himself as he was brutalized by his father. Raeden had been frozen in fear, terrified of suffering the same fate as him. If the legitimate son of a lord could be treated so, what would they do to him?

“Gods in all their heavens…” The story nearly chokes you, wrapping around your throat and pushing a gasp from it and furious tears that anyone should be treated so for who they loved. “What a barbaric display, to have so much hatred for his son. I—” And yet, you can imagine it, having grown up with a mother who wished you dead. “I am sorry that you were afraid to share this part of yourself with me, but please…please know that I love you all the more.”

“I—know it is wrong.” He insists. “Unnatural to have those desires. Especially when I have my soulmate.” He swallows. “I am sorry for hiding it from you, but I will not betray you.” He vows.

“I thought it wrong as well. Unnatural as well.” You shake your head, more at your own self than anything else. “But I think perhaps it is not as sinful as any other love. And that we were misled by people who shared our fears.”

Thinking about that, he brings your hand up to his lips. “You are my love.” He promises you. “That will never change.”

“Never.” That is a promise you can make to him just as easily, but you find his eyes and hold them. “I was upset to see you in the prince’s bed today because I thought you were still angry with me, and might turn me away. It was only fear, my love. Not that I would be angry with you for desiring another.” Perhaps a touch of jealousy had joined the feeling, but you cannot be entirely sure who you were actually jealous of.

"I would never turn you away." He frowns at you, wondering how you could possibly believe something like that. He had been upset that you had been so stubborn last night to think the worst of your husband who had been nothing but generous towards you.

"Fear has a way of making you disbelieve what you know to be true." The words come naturally although they are not your own, and you hang your head. “The prince told me that. And I believe he was entirely correct.”

"He is a surprising man." He cannot help but chuckle in relief. "You have married a good man, my love. You are lucky."

“If you…” Even the idea of breaching this subject with him makes you nervous, but anxiety is far less important than Raeden’s happiness and security. “If it is something that you are interested in exploring again, that is…I know that the prince has expressed interest in bedding you.”

"I—I wouldn't— no, you—" he stammers, eyes widening slightly as you offer him something that he had never expected. He shakes his head. "I could not hurt you like that." He doesn't think that you would want your soulmate to be with someone else.

“It would only hurt me if you turned me away in favour of him.” You shake your head and clasp his hands all the more tightly. “I would never ask you to do something that made you unhappy. But my love, if you wished to take someone else to your bed, all I would ask is that you tell me first?” A soft, almost sheepish smile overtakes your face. “You should be happy, and if I can give you happiness by sharing you…that is something that I have only recently learned is possible.”

"I think that you are more interested in a place in the prince's bed that you wish to admit." He murmurs, looking over at you. "I—say that if you wish it, I want you to also have that opportunity." He sighs. "I know that I am drawn to both your husband and his lover." He confesses, embarrassed by saying those words out loud.

“If you wish for that chance, my love, I cannot see them denying you.” In fact, given some of the glances you have seen Ellaria giving Raeden since you met, and both of their blunt honesty, you are certain they would be thrilled to welcome him into their bed. “For myself…” your shoulders round a little and you cannot help but be a little embarrassed by how well you remember the moment. “I…kissed him. Yesterday. In the garden at the Red Keep. It was impulsive and I was afraid you would be upset with me for…finding myself attracted to him.”

“I would rather you desire your husband than fear the bedding we both know must come.” Despite what has been said, an heir is expected of you and people would spread rumors of you did not provide him with one.

“It does not make me love you less,” you promise him, knowing that that was the fear the foremost of your mind. “Just as I know your own desire does not affect your love for me.”

“Never.” He assures you, leaning down and kissing your hands one at a time. “Are you sure you do not feel any different?” He asks softly, wanting you to make sure. That is his biggest fear.

"Only in that I now wish to spend my time with three people instead of only you." It is a different feeling, to be sure, but not an unpleasant one. "The earliest feelings of attraction are rarely unpleasant, even if they might be different."

"No, I – I meant your feelings about me." He sighs, knowing that while you have your husband, your new title, basically the world at your fingertips – he has nothing. Nothing beyond his place with you.

"I love you. That will never change. No matter our circumstances, the world around us, or even if we were both to marry other people." That inevitability, once terrifying, now only seems as a minor hill to climb. A surmountable barrier. "You are my soulmate, and nothing can ever change that."

He cannot help but pull you on his lap. Needing to have you close as he nudges his nose against yours. "You are mine and I am yours." He promises you softly. "I love you, and I will always love you."

"Always." You promise him, the gentle whisper all it needs to be in the quiet room as you wrap your arms around him.

"So we agree?" He murmurs softly. "We are each perfectly fine with exploring intimacies with your husband and his lover?"

"As odd as it might sound to an outside ear?" And it would, there is no doubt or pretense about that. "I believe – yes. We agree." Pressing a firm, earnest kiss to his lips, you hold him a little tighter with that affirmation. "He asked me to walk with him today, and I asked if we might all spend some amount of time together. Perhaps...the topic can be broached then?"

"If you wish." He murmurs, sliding his hand up your back and holding you close. He closes his eyes and breathes you in, sighing softly. "I love you; I am sorry for our fight."

"I am sorry for it as well, my love." Your forehead against his is grounding, anchoring you to the moment and to the strength of him.

"If you are with your husband, I will try to sleep again." He decides. "Unless his lover needs to have me nearby. I am exhausted." He admits, knowing that he can admit that to you.

"He said that you stood watch all night." A thing which of course would make him exhausted, and you press a kiss to his forehead as well. "Rest well, love. May I wake you when we return from the markets?"

"I would go with you if you wished." He promises you. "You can wake me whenever you need me."

"Rest, my warrior. There are no more battles to fight today." There should not have been any, but the past cannot be changed. "And if you decide to spend time with Ellaria while we are out walking, I hope it is everything you could wish for."

"I am too tired for my cock to stir." He groans, shaking his head and giving a small smile.

Affecting a playful expression of shock and concern, you point to the bed immediately and barely manage to suppress a grin. "Then you must sleep immediately! For as long as you need, ser!"

He chuckles sleepily and nods. "I will." He promises. "I am surprised I woke." He had been sleeping hard when the sound of the door woke him.

"I will let you sleep." With one more kiss, you reluctantly extract yourself from his lap and stand up. He will be able to sprawl out on the bed and enjoy his rest, and you will walk with your husband with a much lighter heart.

******

"I hope her lover has patience since he is sleep deprived." Ellaria hums as her eyes flit towards the door connecting the rooms.

Oberyn nods as he knots the belt around his waist, securing his robes and hanging his dagger from his waist. "You will knock their heads together as if they were naughty children if they argue." He teases, well aware she might do the same to him if pushed hard enough. Now that he has more insight into your nature, he finds himself more patient.

"If I must." Ellaria chuckles, laying back on the bed as she watches him dress. "We had been thrilled to see she was not a child when we met her, but in many ways she has been treated as one. It is a shame."

"Her mother is a bitch who should be beaten." Oberyn grunts, looking into one of the mirrors and examining his beard before pulling out his dagger to scrap a patch of skin smooth. "Jealous of her own daughter."

"Lover, you are preening," she teases with delight. "Huffing and puffing like a great defender while you make yourself handsome for her. It is rather charming."

"Hold your tongue." He narrows his eyes in the mirror playfully before he looks back at his task and carefully drags the extremely sharp blade over his skin. "I am merely making sure that I look confident and collected as I walk the streets of King's Landing."

"With your bride." Ellaria's amusement is obvious, and she all but giggles when the door that connects your chamber to theirs opens to allow you through. "And here is the princess herself." There is no malice in her voice, no jealousy or resentment, only teasing and a good nature. "Our beautiful prince is making himself presentable for you, dear."

Oberyn blows out a raspberry towards his lover and drops his dagger after he finishes the last pass. "My love, you tease me." He grumbles quietly, eyes sliding over to where you are standing. "I gather your talk was successful?" He asks you.

"It went a good deal differently than I had anticipated, but...yes. All is well again." Feeling confident enough to step into the room and over to the pair of them, you are still more than a little nervous about going out and being seen with him. He has, after all, an immense presence and there are always eyes on whomever he is with.

"That is fantastic." He hums, cleaning the blade with a cloth and sliding it back into it is sheath. "As much as I enjoyed the sight of your lover in my bed, it is not a sight I wish friction over." He picks up a bottle of the oil that he uses to sooth is skin and splashes some into his palms to coat the freshly shaved areas.

"It will not be, in future." You can assure him of that, which makes anticipation tingle through you.

His brow arches as he finishes applying the spicy, sweet-smelling oil and reaches for the same cloth the wipe his hands. "That is a curious way with words, princess." He murmurs, his eyes sliding over to his soulmates before back to you.

"It was a curious talk." The coy little smile that curls up in the corner of your mouth is not intentional, but rather naturally playful. You feel so much lighter and freer than you had even an hour ago. "Raeden's story is his own to tell, but...it is safe to assure both of you that your honesty with us about your interest has helped us to be more honest with each other."

"Then it is was a very fruitful conversation, indeed." He hums as Ellaria looks very pleased with the turn of events. "Honesty is what is needed in lasting love and passion."

"I could not agree more." It is a fact, indeed, which you are grateful for in this moment. "Which is why I told him about Brynna."

"Brynna?" Ellaria's head tilts curiously as she looks between you and your husband. Oberyn had not told her so she surmises that it must have been something personal. "What a lovely name."

As the prince already knows the tale, you step closer to the bed where Ellaria is reclining and sit down on the edge of the mattress beside her. "She was...it has been explained to me that she was my first lover. I did not, at the time, understand what it truly meant."

Ellaria's smile blooms slowly, taking over her face until pure delight is etched in her features. "So you do know what a woman's touch is like." She hums, very pleased with your newly told tale.

When you nod it is a sheepish thing, and you fluster under how pleased she seems to be. "And I know now that the shame I felt at my time with her is not necessary." Although it may take time to shake the spiderwebs of guilt from your heart, you have certainly taken a large first step today.

Straightening, Ellaria leans into you and cups your cheeks with both of her hands. "Good." She smiles at you softly. "There should never be any shame in love. No matter the form it takes."

"I will do my best to remember it." She is intoxicatingly close, and you know that shyness reads easily across your features, but it is not for embarrassment or nerves. It is only the promise of things to come.

"See that you do." She urges you with a smile. She leans in and softly presses another feather light kiss to your lips for a brief moment before she pulls back.

The prince has been watching you, you realize when you open your eyes again, and you fluster completely, all over again. "I will do my best to return him to you is as good spirits as he is now," you promise Ellaria, finding yourself reluctant to slip away from her but at the same time eager to spend time with your husband. It is an odd feeling, but not an unwelcome one.

Oberyn rolls his eyes but he strides over to the two of you so he can kiss his lover and collect you. “I am always in good spirits around a beautiful woman.” He protests before kissing his lover soundly. “Where is your paramour, princess?”

"Sleeping, my lord." Raeden had been asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow, and you hope he rests well after a whole night standing guard. "I thought to wake him when we return."

“Good.” He nods his head and looks over to his lover. “Ellaria will be happy to lounge here and rest as well.” He smirks. “She was up late doing other things.”

"Enjoy yourselves." Ellaria lays back in the luxurious blankets and yawns dramatically, flashing you both a smile even as she waves you off. "And make him buy you something beautiful, darling. He gives wonderful gifts."

“I owe you something as well.” He smirks at his lover and offers you his arm. “Shall the Prince and Princess of Dorne be seen visiting the merchants and looking wildly happy?”

"I think they shall." It gives you such a giddy feeling to take his arm this time, smiling more than you have in a month and feeling like quite the gem although there is nothing at all different about you this afternoon than there has been any other day. The only difference is this man, and the fact that you are allowing yourself to enjoy the affect he has on you.

______

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#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Oberyn Martell #Oberyn Martell x you #Oberyn Martell x reader #Oberyn Martell x female reader #Oberyn Martell x f!reader #Oberyn Martell x Ellaria Sand #reader x m!OC #male OC #female reader #male original character #Game of Thrones #soulmate au #arranged marriage

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victimsofyaoipoll · 11 months

Text

Round 1

Propaganda Under Cut

Allura

Lots of people (myself included tbh) ship klance (Keith and Lance). In s8 the creators made Allura/Lance canon (but then they killed her off and left the ending ambiguous it was weird). Anyway the fandom treats her like she's the most terrible bitchy woman ever but all she wants to do is end the war and avenge her destroyed home planet. Yeah she wasn't always the nicest or always the best, but you could argue some other characters in the show aren't either and they aren't treated near as bad as allura. people really just hate her bc Lance liked her. I don't think allura/lance are good together, but I still liked her as a character and thought she was interesting and had a lot of growth during the show. she DEF is not evil like some people portray her as in fic or talk about her in captions on posts. I've seen people say that they HATE her and that she's the worst and I'm like ??? let her live (well sort of ig she is dead now). lots of fic writers use her as the villain which is so interesting to me bc the show literally has villains like use them. anyway allura so perfectly fits the bracket description she deserves better.

I hate to acknowledge my time in this fandom but I hate the way the fandom treated her more. Allura was treated like shit no matter what side of the Great Ship War you were on because she was always a threat to the biggest ships (klance and sheith). At best she got put into Background Lesbian or Consolation Prize Shallura (Space Mom-zoned) (She was not a motherly figure btw. She was just Black). At worst she was violently demonized for being ~racist~ (kinda not cool with the alien race that blew up her planet for a few episodes), complete with misogynistic language hurled at her (she got called a bitch sooo much). Allura was a good and cool character and the show did her dirty but the fandom was somehow worse.

i apologise for speaking the dark magicks, but amidst the voltron fandoms many, many transgressions, there were a particular subset of people who just hated this girl. the infamous klance wars of the 2010s kept this perfectly fine childrens cartoon character in the sights of shippers everywhere, and she (and her voice actress im sure) were subjected to years of petty squabble blown up to global perportions. ive seen hate, ive seen rants, ive seen fanfics that made her homophobic. girls been through the ringer, and even though voltron was never the show its fandom wanted it to be, i believe allura deserved better

Kayano Kaede

shes genuinely a really tragic character who had potential for a really compelling, effective arc concerning grief, identity, healing, and finding trust again all while going through the inherent ordeal of being 15 years old….if she werent a female character in a shonen anime 😭😭 instead she gets sidelined during the show up until her big plot twist reveal after which shes immediately sidelined again. whatever i still love her and know her to be a character of all time who has suffered more than jesus. in my experience shes perhaps the female character who like. ive seen most *obsessively* hated due to her “getting in the way” of the ship b/w the male protagonist + deuteragonist (bc of her proximity to the both of them) u woild think shes the devil incarnate and not just. 15 and traumatised

She had a crush on Nagisa and they kissed and a lot of fans ship him with Karma so theyre mad that Kaede is there. She is super silly and nice but the fandom hates her for standing in the way of karmagisa.

she's a sweet person that was an actor and loves her sister. she is the main love interest of the main character but doesn't interact with him more than most of the other characters for a majority of the story. Often I have seen them removed from the story only to become some homophobic jerk that's desperate for the main characters love instead of letting her keep the good friendship that her and the main character had before the romance.

#poll #round 1 #allura #princess allura #voltron #voltron legendary defender #kaede kayano #kayano kaede #assassination classroom

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ikkosu · 3 months

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Megatron angst, you say?? Megatron is ashamed of the kindness the reader shows him and even more ashamed of the love that developed from that kindness. He remembers keenly how little he thought of organics, the devastation he caused to Earth. The billions of organic lives across the universe that were snuffed out on his command. He can barely stand to look at himself in the mirror. He buries himself in his duties to hide from that vicious guilt, but it doesn't help, not really. Megatron feels he doesn't deserve your affection. He doesn't realize his distance hurts you, if only he would open up to you.

IT'LL PASS

Megatron x gn!scientist!human reader

a/n : ooooh I love these kind of angst! so yummy and gobble-able. I stayed up late writing this. megatron angst be upon ye (if that's how the saying goes, anyways). hope you won’t mind me using this Au, SSAU, in case confused of the size difference.

warnings : little bit of fluff on first half, angst on the second (yipeee) 💀 this is so long, god help me.

[i]

He remembered the first time he met you.

Your hands clinched over his larger ones, tugging it down so you could peer on your toes to get a better look at his face, It took him a moment to register you, first it was the pliant flesh curled over his digits like vines, warm and soft then his head swiveled down with a jolt to meet your curious, wide unblinking eyes.

"Is this...Megatron?" Your eyes narrowed, focused — words, innocent yet simple, came off as almost dumfounded.

He doesn't know what to say.

A raise of his brows and the purse of his lips were all he could muster in response. You’re the walking embodiment of the species he sought to eradicate. To destroy. And yet, here you are, unfazed. Jumping on your toes, drumming your hands over his digits, pawing at his broad, mettalic arms like he was a specimen. Before he could reply, Ratchet grabs the scruff of your collar and yanks you away.

“Wha— hey! I was about to introduce myself!"

“That can wait until the actual debrief. Which is due time. Sorry about this, this one’s a bit of a loiterer.” He grumbles, then yanks you away to fall in step with his pace. “Stir up another problem in the lab and make it count. If Rodimus asks, I am not dealing with his moping about whether or not the body gets decimated or cremated.”

"Oh, come on! " You’re now half-way across the hallway, disappearing. Voices muffled. “It’s like, the size of my palm, Ratty. It’s real cute too, with the puffed out fur and all. We should keep it!”

“I don’t care if it’s the size of your brain. Drift thinks it’s some kind of miracle. Like spiritual miracle or something.” Ratchet grunts out. “Dispose it before someone like you could be infected and you’ve got bad allergies, remember?"

"But—"

“Don't fight me on this. Earth is miles away and I am not comm-ing the Liason Department with a petty issue like that!”

Your altercation disappeared, much the same as your figures, through the sliding door, where the squabble continued into what’s possible the lab the medic mentioned.

Megatron stares, slightly dumfounded as it swishes close and Magnus, for a large mech he’s incredibly a silent walker, teeters behind him, shuffling on his pedes.

“I see you’ve met the organic scientist. An interesting subject to behold, no?”

Rodimus is somewhere behind the duly appointed, a few steps back, moping with a scowl.

With a small wolfish grin, he managed. “I wasn’t aware you’re keeping pets.”

“Excuse me?” The sports car bristled, fists clenched, now already close. “Who’re you calling pets you—“

“Rodimus, please.” His tirade of a decent chewing out is halted by Magnus, whose arm is a barrier between the two, “ Ease down and stay in that corner until I’m done.”

"You're gonna let him say that?" A digit jabbed his way. “But he!—“

“Is trying to a rise out of you.” The bigger mech lays a terse hand over his shoulder. “You of all people should know that. Now, go.”

He’s surprised the younger mech even complied, given his role as the ‘co-captain’, Megatron assumed Magnus would be the one subverscient to his commands. With a scowl he whirled around, stomping away to whatever room deemed worthy of another tantrum. Magnus, however, swivels back with a firmer look, determined not to be swayed by his prodding.

“Discrimination is an offense.” He begins with a finger wag. The grey mech sags. Oh, not this again. ‘’ Any more remarks like that will terminate your stay here. The human you’ve met is the only one residing here in the Lost Light. I expect you to treat them with the same respect they'll have for you."

"Only?" He drawls.

"Many are still not fond of us. Take it a small step towards peace between organics, if you will. " Magnus said, craning his neck over the warlord’s shoulder in time for the med-bay doors to slide open again.

Ambulon steps out, First-aid beside him, and in that split second, he gets a glimpse of you haggling Ratchet at his desk. On your palms were the rat they encountered earlier. He could only assume you're fighting for it's refuge here with how you're assaulting ratchet with desperate puppy eyes and coddling the little rodent to your cheek.

Then the doors slide shut again.

“ In your habsuite are several books on Organic history. Optimus encourages amending tension between Organics and Cybertrinians. So, you can start there. And, while that may prove a bit difficult I hope it isn't an obstacle towards your..."

He struggled, not able to to find the word. Perhaps, repenting is too much of a long stretch so he settles on, “Your stay here.”

"I'll manage just fine." He says gruffly and turns on his heels.

There was something brimming inside his chest. A familiar tinge of energy, much the same when he used to regard Orion with the same kind of fondness.

It'll pass. He reminds himself. It's just a fleeting feeling. It'll pass.

[ii]

You’re like a shadow.

Quick to come, quick to leave — a passing blur.

From the corners to the hallways, you were always there, except he never had a chance to properly introduce himself. Why? He doesn't know why. After all, you were the first person who greeted him with enthusiasm.

The next time he met you was evening, if it was even considered that way, space was in a constant plunge of darkness, anyways. Magnus's caution not to dwell at the bar was indeed taken into consideration as well as disregarded with much care — since drinking is naturally prohibited during 'work hours', according to Magnus, a notion that is an always for him.

Swerve's was fondly quiet.

The rest had gone to ogle another 'off-world chick flick' Rewind proposed. One of those action packed, cheesy films mechs these days are so sodden for. Obviously, he turned it down, ignoring Whirl's attempt to provoke him for being a 'buzz-kill' (he dodged another blaster to the head in doing so) and slumped by a cubicle , nursing a drink he kept swivelling aimlessly in his servo. He watches the purple curl then crest, sloshing about, caking the rims dry. His mind, plagued.

Too caught up in the voices in his head, the swift yet gentle pitter patter of footsteps prodding towards the counter was unheard. It was only when you slid into the empty seat in front of him that he blinked, jolting much as he did when he first met you.

He eyed the datapads and pens cluttering on the surface, following your tandem, gloved hands gently pushing the cup of engex aside. A barrier no longer. You laced your fingers and leaned over, nose close to touching. When it appeared you've caught his attention, your eyes creased, much like a half moon and he finds himself faltering at the sight of the sun.

Though, he stood his ground by holding a firm gaze.

"I hope I'm not bothering you?" Your voice is low, like you're half-expecting Ratchet to pop out again and drag you away.

"Well..." Megatron swivels to his half opened book of the Autobot Code on the table. He still has, much to his chagrin, a thousand more chapters to go through and might as well spare himself from this heinous task and deal with Magnus's preaching.

"Not at the worst time you found me." He folds the book primly and sets it aside.

"Splendid! Is that, ah, how you say it there?"

"What?"

"How’s it going buddy! Or, what's got you up in a twist pal! Something like that. Magnus is always haggling me about 'conforming' to certain ranks with the way I speak. So, what does it?"

He stares at you for a moment, more accurately, staring down, brows pinched. You're awfully small. And not in a 'teeny, tiny, precious little pet' kind of way. His gladiator instincts overruled his prior thoughts and the heigh difference is so explicitly stark he could crush you with a mere swing of a fist. Why are you here? I could kill you. He's not so sure what to think of that. Though, his lower region can preach otherwise.

He should really stop drinking.

"You're not suppose to be here."

"Not quite."

The smile turns into a wolfish grin. It's only now he noticed you've plopped a black satchel on the table.

" Actually, to tell you the truth I'm old enough to be drinking. Hell, even mingling with the lot of you. It's just that, ah, the chemicals! Chemicals, am I right? It hurts the human brain. Makes it woozy. Real, woozy. Can’t think well. I don't know about you bots, cons, uh, there's more gosh, but you see I'm—"

"Referring to your presence." He crosses his arms, leaning back.

"Rodimus doesn't like you here."

The satchel flaps open with a click. You shrug. "Hm. That's a lot less fun, no? Guess he'll have to suck it up. Can’t keep me in a cage forever. I need my own breath of fresh air.”

He looks off to the side, forcing back an imperceptible smile. " Is that so? Whatever happened to conforming to ranks?"

"Ah, apologies, he'll have to handle shoving a stick up his tailpipe."

"You would prefer mingling with me than—"

" Obviously. It's a perfect time for our interview to start!"

.Megatron shifted slightly away, fighting the urge to frown. His digits drum the service, irritated.

"You're interested about the war." He states plainly.

"It's not much about the war, you see. It's, well more about the performers. No, wait not performers, the ah—“ You wag the pen in front of him, struggling to find the words, other hand fumbling to open the book. When you're unable to muster a coherent explanation, you settle on, "Short story, I’m a researcher. Journalist, even. Half-scientist? You get the gist."

Your eyes flicker down to the clutter of datapads by his side, an amused grin this time, " What's the point? I suppose you're already aware of my name, then?"

He feels his faceplates burn. The many datapads you caught contained the ship's dwellers and one, sticking out from the others, is your profile. It was a harmless dive, but with how blatant his stylus circled your picture a deep red, he knew he was in too deep. He clears his throat, a swift digit nudged the rim aside and it's hidden under the others.

"A bit of curiosity isn't too much of a harm these days." He doesn't shake your outstretched hand but taps your palm with his digits. "What would you like to know?"

The touch lingered. You smiled.

"You."

[iii]

He's not sure what to think.

Several weeks after the incident at the bar there's been a routine he's now accustomed to. Wake up, have a cup of energon, haggle both Magnus and Rodimus before making his rounds around the ship. (Succumb to dirty looks from mechs, as well). Then, it's only then he's able to spend time with you in the confines of his habsuite.

The first time was very uncomfortable. He's twiddling his thumb like a schoolboy as he’s perched on the edge of his birth, glaring at the floor while you're sprawled on the couch, scribbling whatever he uttered onto the paper like it's a holy scripture.

He needs to say something.

Anything to keep the conversations aflow. The sessions were about two hours long — three if it became a little more in depth — and he finds himself short circuiting when you’d throw in an ‘joke’ or two. Apparently, he missed the joke. It flew right over his head. When the rest of the conversation fell off awkwardly, it's only then he realize how inept at casual conversation he is.

"I suppose you can say the commodities there were made were satis-factory." He pauses for a moment, letting it simmer.

You blink a little, the one in your hand twirls for a moment before your palms clutched your mouth, hunching over the chair, shoulders heaving. There was a pleasant sound from your lips. Is that—

"Are you laughing?" He asks, strangely offended.

"Sorry, it's just— mhmaha, eheahag. Hehehnskslk,” You gathered yourself but the cheeks still twitched. “. Is— is that, like, a pun. Are you punning?"

He gave in, looking away. “…Magnus urged me to be a lot less ‘stiff’ with how I deliver certain….statements. ”

“So, you went with puns.” The pen nudges his cheek, playful.

He swats it away with a chuff. “We were discussing about industrial propaganda during the early courses of the war, it’s only appropriate that I put that in.”

“How many more have you got under your sleeve, megs?"

From his faceplate, a small smile cracks. “If you have enough time to spare.”

[iv]

When he looks at you, he's reminded of Orion.

Compassionate yet strong-willed. Accepting yet firm. Perhaps it's because you're as youthful as the first conjure of a star or perhaps he likes to believe that you are. You innate curiosity for knowledge, your naive recklessness for danger; determined to be the hero, despite lacking — it worries him.

In what way does it so?

Sometimes, he half expects you to emerge as a different person. One day, a bright smile on your face, the other, a facade. Your true self. He finds himself dawdling towards the mirror, scrutinizing his faceplate. The creases and wrinkles that amass his grimace, they eased into a gentle smile when he thinks about you.

It’s the little things that gets him.

Your hand on his arm when you speak, the focused adoration in your eyes when he goes on another tirade about his poems, or when he’s particularly feeling a bit sour, you’re always there with your own two cents which breaks a smile out of his face — it makes him feel something he doesn’t want to prod.

“Energon?”

He stares at the outstretched cup, his other servo is cradling his temple, migraine induced. He’s at his desk, hunched over a datapad, stylus working with abandon when you came in, the brief respite of luminescent light flaring his room stark before it shrouds dim again. Everyone had clocked in for the night. Magnus left a few hours earlier. You, on the other hand….

“How…how did you make this?” He’s dumbfounded, watching as the purple swirls around his reflection.

You declare proudly with a puff of your chest. “Being a scientist, you can pull off a few strings or two to get it. Though, I did almost combust a ‘certain’ contraption trying to filter off raw energon. Brainstorm's instructions aren't easy to read. I should really stop trying to crank up the generator to max….”

“Please, i implore you — don’t do that again.”

You shrug, a little grin.He vents. Guess he’ll have to tolerate you for the time being. You set the cup of energon on his desk and peered over a little.

“What’re you up to?”

He feels his face burn. “Annotating the next poem you requested. For our next session. You…wanted to see my earlier poems and their possible significance."

There was a bright twinkle in your eye — too bright he swiveled away for a moment.

“May I?”

“If you have time…”

[v]

It appears interviewing isn't your only vice.

Off you go to expeditions outside the Lost Light, floating about on meteors, wrangling native plants from native planets, returning to med-bay, sometimes, with parched gloves that're burnt at the tips and hair a different color from the chemical abrasions.

Megatron sometimes finds himself on the gurney instead with how much pressure his spark is taking its toll.

Once, he's startled off his armor when you tapped the window from the outside, mouthing about how Brainstorm probably started another fire in the east wing.Safe to say it wasn’t long before the fire reached him. And, you’re the one chipping off the burnt metal parts from his arm, gently cradling his servos.

It's just a little brain worm, he tells himself. Another delusion he conjures because he's so desperate to feel something — anything to contradict his guilt. Your touch is nothing but miniscule and yet he finds himself in front of laboratory often, and he'd look lost when you're greeted at the sight of the warlord dawdling in front of the lab, another excuse concocted on the spot to deter you from the possible reason.

"Isn't he a little too keen on experiments like these?" Perceptor mutters. "I didn't realize he's fond of...whatever new shenanigans they've made. If anything, I surmise an ulterior motive."

"Oh, let him be." Brainstorm waves him off dismissively. " There's no harm in finding new hobbies. He's an ex-warlord let 'im live. Besides, I heard he wanted to be a medic once, can you believe that?"

"Until the day I die, no."

"Oh, Percy, you bore."

"Please, don't even go there "

Megatron blinks as you set down a pink vial on the desk, your own hands gripped his own with a vice, tugging him along to your experiments. Your scruffed up lab coat is half-burnt at the sleeves and the bubbling beaker by your side is driving him up the wall. Don’t you have any sense of self-preservation, whatsoever?

"So, I was working on the prospect of dying acids, right? Not, die die, as in, well, dying. Die as in coloring. Trying so that when they explode it explodes a certain type of color. Neon, too! And here, take a look at this—"

You're ranting. Mouth moving, not stopping. He can't seem to focus. You're so much smaller. Just below his torso, fun-sized, easy to hold and when he's touching your soft parts —you guide his hand to pry open whatever contraption-lock you're making, he finds himself flinching.

You're so...soft.

"I'm what?" You say, yelling over Brainstorm's loud generator resounding across the room.

You're squinting, straining to hear. He wants to peel the goggles away. He wants to see your eyes.Wants to the see the way the luminescent lights freckles off the white like sparkles. He clears his throat, jabbing a finger to whatever contraption he can set your mind on, not at how his faceplate is burning much as the generator is.

"That doesn't look safe."

"That's because it's a bomb." Perceptor emerges behind you both, a scowl on his face, and paid no mind to his startled expression as he makes a beeline towards the other scientist, struggling to hold the generator together. There's a distance muffled yelling and shuffling. You both stare at them, unmoving.

"You build bombs."

"Unethical, I know."

He whirls to look at you; you're focused elsewhere. "That's not what I meant."

"Okay, okay. I might've lied a bit on that Journalism thing. But hey, I've got to make meet ends right? Hm? Megs?” You look around. “Where’d he go?”

[vi]

"What's this?" He's snapped out of his tirade, swivelling his gaze from the dome-ish greenhouse he's been ogling at to you crouched near the pot, gloved hands shoved inside the soil.

He remarks bitterly. "I pour my heart out and you're pulling out weeds?"

"Yup. Wanna help?"

They're in your personal laboratory for today. Given the amount of flora and fauna strewn about the room, Ratchet remarked it was like a greenhouse of some sort. Megatron vents, lumbering from the chair and towards your form. He snagged the recording pen from the table, clicked it and dropped it into the satchel

So much for a moment of heart to heart.

"What's this?" His digits curls out, prodding the petal of the bud, clutched between your palms.

Even when he's crouching, he's still towering over you like a building.

You smile up to him, child-like. "A new kind of flower I made."

"Really, now."

"Oh, come on hear me out."

"If it's complete and utter jargon to mess with my circuits — don't even try."

"Fine, fine, fine. I'll keep it simple."

With a snap of your finger the room became dim and from a pot, you plucked out a flower. It wasn't, however, a normal visage of one. Megatron slowly extends his palm, cradling the plant like it was crystal. The petals are glass like; it sparkled blue, frolicking purple. Against his chassis it glew, a faded tinge of color on the gunmetal grey. His face eased into a smile.

"This is....fascinating. How did you make this? Don't answer that. You'll only give me a headache." He tries to clamp a servo over your lips but you duck away. "Even so, I have no words to conjure... how much I feel about this. What implored you to create such a remarkable plant?"

" Your poem."

He raised his eyebrows. "Is that so?"

"The one where you compared sparks to flowers. In a way, I do see that too." You gestured around. "My own world is like a garden. And i like to keep my garden clean. Weed out the bad stuff, put in the good stuff. But sometimes, new flowers grow amongst the old, and when they do..."

You look up to him with a small smile. "They bloom into something beautiful."

It took him a moment to understand.And when he does, his spark thrummed for a desperate plea for touch. Without thinking, his digits find your chin and reels you close.

He thinks about this often. Your kindness wasn't because you were simply kind. It's because you believed everyone had a chance.

He doesn't deserve one.

It's like everything clicked together. The sullen memories strung itself into shape, now etching across his processors. Limb, lifeless bodies across barren land. Blood smeared the soil dark crimson. What is he doing? This is shameful. Shameful of him. The very species he sought to kill, to snuff out, to eradicate. The wide, spanning field of flowers. Blue, hauntingly beautiful. Those were the lives lost.

You could’ve bloomed amongst them

He shoved you away, not to harshly but in a manner of surprise, jolting much as he did when he first met you. His shoulders grazed the pot on the table as he stood and it toppled to the ground. The shards crackled, breaking on impact. Soil a barrier, sprawled between you both.

His own anger flared, fists clenching.

“Woah, there. Something wrong? Did you get pricked?”

Megatron says nothing as you clean up the mess. Hands plucking the shards off the ground, rambling again. "Man, your shoulders are really wide. Not as big as Mangus's but still, they're like a whole wall of—"

"You should hate me."

You freeze, the shards paused halfway down into the duster, tipping a little over the edge.

Megatron kept his gaze to the floor. He needed to tell you this. He needed to remind you now. He's not what you think he is, and just because he's had his moment of respite with you, he's still, and will always be the Megatron who sought domination through means of violence, ethical or not.

"I know."

Your face smoothens out a moment before it eases back into a smile. The gentle kind.

"I killed your people. Eradicated thousands of them. Torn through vibrant planets, decimated floras, faunas, and life that teemed in those regions. I hurt nature. I hurt it's mother."

"I know."

"Then, why are you so subverscient to your own compassion? Why not take your anger out on me?" He takes a domineering step forward. "I don't understand. A person can't be this forgiving."

"Because it's wrong." You say simply. "Because it won't do anything. Look, just because you think I'm nice to you doesn't mean Im not aware of what you did.Even if I get to break several joints off your sockets, would that get me anywhere? If anything, it'll make me more miserable."

”You’re naive.’’

The flower no longer crackled. No longer bright. Like the broken pot, it lay shattered on the ground, glinting.

"If that’s how you see it..." You trail off, eyes creasing into a frown. "Is this about the poem? I didn't mean to overstep—"

He whirled away without a word. "I need to go."

[vii]

He can't get you out of his mind.

Day by day passes. From night to morning to dawn, he finds himself plagued with thought hes not able to comprehend.

Everytime he wakes up, there's this urge. He finds himself wanting to see you. He steeled himself, however, walking past you when you approach. Answering in clip tones when you ask. Magnus notices he's in his office a lot more recently, pouring through the mountains of datapad like he's on a grip.

"You should rest, Megatron." He tells the captain once.

What returned however is a grunt. Neither affirming nor denying. The enforcer frowns. He'll have to ask you about it. And yet a quick look to the scientist deters his thoughts. You're less bright and while you still have the amiable streak it appears as though you're forcing a grin through it all. Something must've happened. A fight, more preferably. That led to him confronting Rung about it, and the psychiatrist confronting Megatron — in a less subtle way, of course.

The warlord tells him it's just a brain worm, something eating at him for a while.

Something passing,

"I do think that is something quite more." He mutters, stylus crossing another scribbles on the datapad. "Given your nature with the former it's only normal to feel shame to such sentiments. Inter-species relationships dwell on that complication a lot. I get questions regarding guilt, betrayal of their own race and the unethicalities of it all. The only significant point here, however, is how you're willing to approach this problem.”

Rung, straightens his goggles. “How would you like to look at it?"

Megatron ponders. He thinks. Gears churning, scheming. Silent. He wants it to be something more yet he wants it to be nothing beyond what they are. How can he, a warlord whose actions eradicated almost half the cosmos, bring himself to feel even a minuscule hint of happiness? No, he can’t. He doesn’t deserve any of this. It's not like you feel the same.

"Nothing. It's just a fleeting feeling. It'll pass.

"Surely it can't be that easy to put aside."

Megatron frowns. "What, you don't think I can do it?"

Rung pulls a terse smile, folding his fingers over his lap.

"t’s not a matter of whether or not you can do it…" he trails off, unsure. It appeared as though he wanted to say more with how his lips part for a second. "But if that's how you would like to proceed, I am not forcing you. After all, your feelings wouldn’t fare better if I do. The choice is yours."

."I think it's best I keep my distance.

Rung seems a little distraught at that. "Perhaps it's better that you don't. Your feelings, they’re not something you can toy around with such ease. And while they're indeed very complicate, avoiding them is—"

"Don’t pretend to understand how I feel.” Rung flinches at the sudden venom in his tone. “I know how to deal with this. I just need time. Time…time is all I need.

It'll pass. He tells himself.

It never does.

#transformers #maccadam #transformers x reader #megatron x reader #idw megatron #transformers idw #ikkosuwrites #mtmte megatron #lost light

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