#raised in a hole where the only thing you have to give is your death
Text
oh gideon. you didn’t know how.
#really unutterably inconsolable about her#raised in a hole where the only thing you have to give is your death#your willingness to walk doggedly into the dark for tradition and duty#when all harrow wanted was for the ninth to live. was for gideon to live.#she never wanted anyone to die for her ever again#the locked tomb#nona the ninth spoilers#ntn spoilers#desc#in alt text
181 notes
·
View notes
Text
King&Prince 3
Steve didn't know how long he'd been in here between being knocked out and the fact that there was no window to help him tell the time. But it must've been a few hours at least, because someone came down to feed him. The person was nondescript besides the scowl on their face as they pretty much tossed the tray at him. It skid across the floor and Steve saw that it was some bread and some soup.
Steve reached for the soup first, wanting something to warm him only to find that it was just barely above his own body temperature. And something slimy was in it. He winced, making his deliveryman laugh.
"Eat up, your highness", he sneered before leaving him to it.
Steve tried the bread next. It was only slightly stale and he wondered if he should be rationing it. This could be his only meal for the next twenty four hours. They intended to return him home but that didn't mean he had to be in perfect condition. They could keep him on the brink if it suited them.
In the end, he decided to finish it all now. He looked at what he was left with. A spoon, a bowl, and a tray. He could probably use any of the three as a weapon, but that did nothing for his locked cell. Steve spent the next few hours, formulating a plan.
He would've thought about it longer, but that was when someone came to serve what must be dinner. That is unless they served bread and soup for breakfast here. It was someone different, but they handed him the tray in much the same way, sliding it in small space under the bars.
"I need to relieve myself", Steve announced.
"And? You've got four corners."
"So I'm just supposed to shit in the corner?"
"Enjoy your slop", he said, turning to leave when Steve grabbed an arm through the bars and twisted it behind his back and raised the spoon to his throat. It was probably the least threatening thing ever but his current warden was frozen.
"What the hell!?"
"You're going to let me out. Or else."
"Or else what? You'll spoon me to death?", he let out a choke of laughter as Steve pressed down.
"I think that's exactly what I'll do", Steve said as he slid the spoon up his neck, up his face and towards his eye.
"Waitwaitwait! I don't even have the keys! Only the king can let you out!"
"Are you lying to me?", Steve asked, his voice low.
"No! I promise. He's the only one with a key to this place. We don't keep a lot of prisoners!"
Steve waited a moment to see if there were any tells that might show dishonesty before dropping the spoon and backing away from the bars.
"In that case, I request an audience with your king. A prisoner I may be, but these current accommodations are not to my standards."
His guard gave him an incredulous look as he caught his breath and regained his wits. "Are you serious? You're making demands?"
Steve crossed his arms. "I am not going to shit where I sleep."
"No one here gives a fuck about what you want. Get used to that prince."
He spat out the word 'prince' like it was a slur. Steve didn't have a huge flock of fans back home, but the blatant disrespect was so foreign. He was left alone to figure out how he was going to keep his cell from smelling like a latrine.
Eddie sent out a letter the very day he had Steve in his keep, flying on the wing of one of his demobats so that there was no mistaking who the letter came from. Steve didn't know how things were going outside his limited scope though, and tried to make the best of his situation. He considered positioning his stream outside the cell and also leaving his solid waste as close to the bars as possible just to piss off whoever came down here, but considering that meant it might touch his food, he refrained.
There wasn't the smell of rot or waste here, so that could only mean prisoners weren't meant to be here long. That either meant they had different cells for long time stays. Or...
Steve brought a hand to his throat. He wouldn't think of 'or' right now. He paced around, considering trying to dig a hole in the softest part of the stone (what an oxymoron), when his foot stumbled against something. There was a small panel, it seemed. And when he opened it, it was a bottomless, black hole. Well what better place for waste to go?
------------------------
Steve was pretty sure a couple of days had passed, just from the amount of meals he'd been given. But he knew he looked more destitute than that. A side effect of having to choose between tearing up his blanket to wipe himself with or tearing his own clothes. And only one of those was comfortable on his ass.
It was probably about three days in when he got a new visitor. This one still brought food but he was also significantly younger than the others. A literal child.
"Whoa. So you're the guy who tried to kill someone with a spoon?" The boy tilted his head, inspecting Steve. "You don't look that dangerous."
"Give me a spoon and let's test your theory", Steve said, sitting against the far wall, waiting for the tray to be passed over. It seemed fitting that a demonic king would be using child labor.
"Spoons are too easy", the boy said. "Now if you could threaten someone wiiiiith your pinky! Yeah if it was your pinky that would be intimidating."
"My pinky?"
"Yeah", the boy nodded, flopping his brown curls around.
Steve held up his pinky. "You could poke someone's eyes out, hold them up by the nose, break their other fingers with enough force, just to name a couple of things."
"That's almost every orifice. I guess the ears aren't too vulnerable. But what about the ass?"
Steve's face scrunched up, confused as to what the boy was talking about and why he was having this conversation. "What about the ass?"
"You could stick a finger up there. Really disorient a person."
"...Yeah it'd do that. But you wouldn't really do that to an enemy."
"Why?"
"How old are you?", Steve asked.
"Thirteen."
"Ask someone when you're older."
"Oh come on! I'm not a baby."
Steve cracked his first smile in days. He thought of himself back at thirteen. It wasn't that long ago but he was both embarrassed and nostalgic for that age. "Just hand the food over, kid."
"You and Eddie. One day the youth will rise you know", the boy said as he pushed the food over.
Hearing that definitely made Steve feel older than he was but he tried to ignore it. What was harder to ignore was that the kid kept coming back. Steve had gotten used to a new face every time a new meal was delivered. But this kid, who he learned was named Dustin, came every time now. He asked Steve questions about how to kill people.
Steve told him flat out he'd never killed anyone, was just trained to. So Dustin rephrased to ask how he would kill someone. It still seemed like a morbid topic to have with someone locked up, but it wasn't like Steve had anything else to do. So he told Dustin what he knew. About people's typical weak spots, about the best weapon to use for what sort of damage he was looking for.
He never considered that Dustin might be performing espionage. He was just a kid after all. And when Steve wasn't talking about headlocks versus full body grappling, Dustin was talking about his friends. It was mostly Will, Mike, and Lucas. Sometimes and El was thrown in there. And then there was this Eddie character. Someone who drove Dustin up the wall but also clearly had the boy's admiration.
Apparently Eddie told stories to Dustin and his friends and let them insert their own characters, and gave them a chance to interact with the story. It was fun and Eddie challenged them with obstacles. But it was frustrating when they couldn't decide on the best course of action and Eddie bested them.
Steve had never heard of interactive storytelling like that. And he had to admit it was a good way to engage with kids, not that he had much experience with that.
Around the fourth day since Dustin's arrival, probably about a week or so in to Steve's stay, he really took in Steve's appearance and it surroundings.
"I should ask Eddie about getting you some new clothes. And maybe, I don't know freshen things here? We've never kept somebody down here this long."
Steve figured that. "How is Eddie going to get me anything?"
Dustin looked at him like he was a child. "He's got some pretty big pull around here."
Steve doubted that. Eddie sounded like perhaps a servant with a soft spot for the children of the castle, regardless of their station. Maybe he was a knight and Dustin had been downplaying his nobility? Either way, Steve wasn't going to hold his breath. It didn't matter who Eddie was. King Edward was like stone, he was sure. Listening to no one.
Part 5
Tag Team
@thesuninyaface @only-evanescent @snakeorsquid @ignoremyworld
#apo writes#stranger things#fanfiction#steddie#dustin henderson#anybody ask for some mistaken identity shenanigans?#can u tell i like miraculous ladybug?#also i feel like i spent waaaaay to long#talking about steve's bathroom sitch#but like#he's there for a while#and i need to describe how threadbare these conditions are#next time we get eddie's side
198 notes
·
View notes
Note
What would Vesper do if his queen were to suddenly, I don't know, disappear for a few days because she's off having "fun"?
Btw, I love the stories and the individual characters! I constantly reread them cause they're so amazing!
[I'm assuming "fun" means you're fucking around in the streets of Lust? If not, then I'm sorry, I can't really guess. Thenk you!! <3 That's super sweet of you.]
Putting aside the massive scare he gets when he realizes you're missing, he's about ready to crack Lacai's spine like fucking bubble wrapper for letting you just waltz off when the imp is able to get a desperate breath in and explain why he didn't intervene.
You were out getting "acquainted" with the denizens of the Ring.
The first thing he feels is absurd disappointment. That he wasn't invited. Really now, you could have told him about your sudden burst of hunger, Vesper would help arrange something fun!
It's safe to say the King will slide most non-priority tasks of the day into a shelf and follow after your trail outside. And believe him, it won't take long to find you. Because having the Queen of Lust just stroll around in the open definitely draws a sizable, loud crowd... He's farily confident that you wouldn't get hurt- Not only would the twats that hurt you be fated to something worse than death by his hands, the Ring loves you dearly. It's much more likely you're getting followed by demons begging you to fuck them or trying to show off with each other.
Vesper nearly shudders when he senses so much sexual energy condensed in one location, it's like a hit of dopamine snorted up his nose and rattling directly across his brain cells. He finds you in the state he expected to, honestly. Babbling, dripping slick and cum, too fried on pheromones to tell left from right but still coherent enough to beckon the next horny fool into one of your holes.
Such pride he feels in you.
However, he's not too keen on you getting overwhelmed enough to risk damage. As is, you're likely already going to be out of it for a week or so, raised libido, accelerated metabolism, emotional swings- The whole nine yards he'll have to prepare for.
Vesper cuts through the crowd and collects you from the mass of horny bodies delighting themselves with yours, creating a balance as he chooses to take care of most, and gradually decreases the number of partners you take at once, sometimes snarling at them viciously to stall their intensity. If someone disrespects his orders (probably due to rampant excitement at getting to fuck the Queen), then they'll be broken in two and tossed aside. You're likely too fucked out too notice or care.
At some point, you're no longer having sex but being lovingly fondled and soothed by the more self-controlled demons of the Ring, who are getting their rocks off just from seeing the state you're in.
Vesper decides when you've had enough and gives you a sweet, longing kiss before summoning Lacai and some guards to remove you from the premises, back to home where you will be bathed and properly grounded after such a fuckfest. The demonlord plans to lightly chastise you about the dangers of tossing yourself to the streets without caution. You are human, and even if his power flows through your organism, these things need to be eased into.
Vesper remains outside however, never afraid to sate his residents and take everything they toss at him. It's likely he'll overeat and toss himself into a rut, which his subjects are all too happy to deal with.
By the time he comes back, truly spent, the King just wants to faceplant on his bed with you.
156 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hiii, are you accepting requests? If the answer is yes then...
Would you consider writting a ticci toby x m! reader where cannibalism is their way of showing love? I dont mean full on k1lling and eating, perhaps biting and lick1ng blood...small bits but nothing too risky for anyone to die.
I'd love to see this, have a nice day/night :3333
Yes! oskgjrifjwi. You don't know how happy this makes me because what better way to get through hard times and back into writing than writing mild to heavy cannibalism. In this one mild, as you requested no death. :) Oh this one is going to get a bit saucy I already know, I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry. Nothing too explicit but, I mean, it's basically impossible to write cannibalism in a way that isn't saucy, it's inherently an intimate act, and even more impossible when writing it between consenting parties.... *acting bewildered* who said that...anyways... I hope you like it, and I did a good job! -///-'' (after writing edit: I feel the need to mention I'm 18...so I guess I'm technically "allowed" to write/read stuff like this or more 'extreme' but hhhhh)
Ticci-Toby x cannibal! Male Reader - Eat Me~
Tw- Mild/Light Cannibalism, biting, drawing blood, gnawing on skin you know cannabilistic behaviors. Making out, neck action, praise.
It's not a secret that you bite, a many of your partners in your past were less than pleased when you'd give them a "love bite" that drew blood and even less pleased when you licked the wound clean instead of cleaning it with soap and water so you learned your lesson to let people know upfront that you're a biter and you bite hard.
It's become almost a joke to your current boyfriend and his odd character housemates. "Watch out he's a biter, it's his love language.~" A few scattered tics or whistles in his speech as he introduced you for the first time. It was a 'joke', you had been very good about not biting this far, scared that Toby was just another person who was 'into biting' that was only okay with it until you broke skin in which case they're cursing your name as they force you to drive them to the ER and never call you back.
"We'll believe it when we see it," was the general consensus, a certain blue hoodied individual raising his eyebrow at you, you had laughed awkwardly before Toby took you to his room.
It started out as a movie date, holed up in his room watching a movie he'd seen a thousand times and you'd never seen so he insisted that you watch it with him. You guys have been dating for a while, and you had successfully avoided biting him despite his protests and reassurance that it'd be okay, and he might not even feel it. You like Toby, love him even, and didn't want to wig him out.
Halfway through the movie Toby begins kissing your neck slowly moving up to your lips as he begins to make out with you. As things further heat up he begins kissing your neck again, you bury your head into his shoulder and as he riles you up further you find your teeth grazing against his neck at increasingly hard pressures. Tongue pressing against his skin as you taste him, wanting to taste more. You're breathing shakily and about to pull away when you feel his fingers entangled in your hair, "That's it sweetheart, you can do it, it's okay." Toby encourages softly as he pushes your head closer to his neck again, tilting his head slightly to give you better access, biting into your neck first, hard enough to draw blood and to show you it's okay. An action that throws your self control out the window as you bite hard enough to not only draw blood but leaves a small chunk of his skin in your mouth as well. "Attaboy.... there you go..." Toby hissed softly as you chewed and swallowed his skin. Still caressing the back of your head as you lean back in to lick the wound his blood dripping down your chin as you consume the sweet liquid.
"More?" You asked softly after pulling away. You had been so good holding back up till this point but all the times you held back were rushing to you and as you thought of all the times you didn't you craved more.
"Good boy for asking." Toby replied lifting your chin to look at him before kissing you, gently blood and saliva mixing as you made out for a little while more. Toby then shifted his shirt to expose the opposite shoulder as he began kissing your neck again. "Go for it."
With the green light you bit him again, this time only enough to draw prickles of blood as you lapped up the crimson liquid that beaded through a perfect impression of your teeth in his skin. Eternally pleased as Toby held you close as you trailed kisses up his neck before biting down again a little deeper for a more solid blood flow but still only enough to draw blood, licking the wounds and once you pulled back Toby was still there. Gazing lovingly at you before kissing you again.
A little while later once both of you had cooled down, were patched up, and rewatched the movie seeing as Toby got distracted by "The prettiest boy he's ever seen" and couldn't resist his urges and distracted you from it entirely the first time. The two of you had a conversation.
"You aren't angry at me? You liked it?" You ask him gently looking down into your lap half-expecting him to chew you up and kick you out.
"What? Oh you're talking about the biting. Oh you sweet stupid boy, yes, obviously I like it. In all honesty I've been waiting for it since our first 'I love you' because you described it as how you showed love. I was worried you didn't actually love me since you hadn't bit me yet." He pulls you close to him, your head resting on his chest. Allowing you to feel his sincerity through his heartbeat. "Part of the reason I made a move on you today to begin with... the thoughts kept jumbling around you and if you actually loved me until I physically couldn't think of anything but you."
"I swear I do! I just didn't want you to leave me or be scared off by my... odd acquired taste.." You muttered in response listening to his heartbeat contently as he laughs wholeheartedly.
"I know, you were gnawing on my fingers all movie, I know you love me. Also you don't need to hold back with me, just to say it plainly incase you were thinking of putting the lid back on that box because I'd prefer if you didn't." He said sincerely before letting the laugh and teasing consume his voice. "Yeah, mhm... You mean your cannabilistic tendencies?"
"Oh my god, shut up Tobes!" You laughed embarrassed before hiding your face in his chest again finding comfort in the hiccups and heaves as laughs as well as his heartbeat and breathing. "I'm not a full cannibal anyways, I'd never fully consume you."
"Liar you already have, at least five of my thoughts at all times include you and 5/10 times they all swirl to you anyways." He laughs as he kisses the top of your head. "Also eat me, if you want me to shut up that bad you're going to have to make me." He teased pulling away from you slightly as he smirks at you.
"Oh really, tough shot?" You lean up and start to kiss him again. The progression starts as short sweet kisses before you take his bottom lip in-between your teeth biting down until your canines break licking the blood that drips down his chin kissing him repeatedly and softly afterwards.
#ticci toby#creepypasta x male reader#cannibalistic#this ones kinda gorey#also kinda#nsft#just a bit#im sorry#creepypasta lime?#kinda#again#im so sorry#as always suggestions are welcome#creepypasta fluff?#maybe?#it's kinda soft
114 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hello! I heard you do requests and I have just the request for you, my friend! *Clears throat* Male Reader x the Rob Zombie version of Michael Myers. I have a HUGE crush on that guy like he is so hot! The prompt can be that they were both childhood friends that had feelings for each other when they were younger and years later when they are grown up, still have feelings for each other. Everything else is up to you. Anyways thank you and have a lovely day! :)
Ooh yay! Thank you for the request, I love the idea, so I’ll try my best to make it what you want! I hope you like it :) and have a lovely day too <3
RZ!Michael Myers x Male!Reader
Summary: After being introduced in the sanitarium where you had basically been raised, your interest grows over the often-masked, nearly silent boy. But, your fascination comes to a close when he escaped (you soon following suit) and you can’t seem to find him. Years pass and, after moving to Haddonfield, things seem to be weird… and why are they talking about Michael?
Wandering around the facility has become a pastime to you. The doctors don’t class you as enough of a risk to be put under constant surveillance so they let you roam free as you please, watching as patients slowly go crazy with their own thoughts. Boredom is rampant though, something you couldn’t help. That is, until he came.
You aren’t shy about death, you couldn’t be in such a situation without having a strong stomach for such an issue. So, when you hear wind of a killer, just a boy around your age, you can’t help but go find out for yourself. After a few minutes of wandering you come to the previously empty cell, now with a boy sat inside. As soon as his shining blue eyes meet yours, you know you’ll be close…
After a good few years, enough for you to be coming into your early and his mid twenties, you notice that your feelings for Michael (you’d found his name out after a lot of pestering that fateful day) had changed. That what being close constantly did, making you fall deeper and deeper into the hole that is affection.
The blonde hair is no longer synonymous with a Ken doll, as the nurses had previously gifted you (they foolishly believed it would keep you as a manly man, giving you Ken instead of Barbie), no. The colour was now only knows as that of Michaels hair, something you grew to appreciate dearly. Hair that he’d let you comb through on your worse days. He was a kind man, in ways that the others can’t see… no, in a way that they won’t see.
And his eyes, how you could stare into the pools of blue, with hidden mysteries and intimacy, for as long as he’d let you… that is, until you get the news that you’ve been released.
Your heart sinks at the news, DR. Loomis explaining to you in a gentle tone that you cannot come back or be within driving distance of the sanitarium.
“It would be bad for you… and for Michael.”
You knew it. It was all because of Michael, you’re too close to him. You’ve done this to yourself… so you run.
Heart pounding in your chest, your feet slap against the linoleum flooring as you race to Michaels room, flinging the door open and yourself into his arms. He catches you with ease, pulling you to him. With frantic words, you whisper to him, urgency and worry lacing your voice.
“They’re making me leave. Come find me. Haddonfield. I won’t forget you,”
Feeling him freeze under your grasp, you know the orderlies are behind you, confirming as they wrap their arms around you.
“so don’t forget me. Find me Michael… please.”
After a moment of sullen staring, he turns, the lack of reaction only fuelling your growing concern. You call his name again, wishing for him to know that this isn’t your choice. That you’d be with him forever, if it was. No, all you can do is hope that he’ll come to find you, so you truly can be together.
A year passes, then another and you lose hope of ever seeing the man who had your heart ever again. Tears burn at your eyes as you walk in the streets, greeting you as they remain unaware of who you are. Or at least, who you were. Your heart yearns to brush through his hair again, watch as he makes his masks during downtime, even to just stare into his gorgeous souls one last time. Right now, you’d take anything.
“Yeah, the boogeyman is back and someone’s died already…”
A hushed whisper catches your interest, the use of one of Michaels many aliases making you perk up slightly. Across from you, two men talk of a death, close to Haddonfield and your heart can’t help but stutter in hope as your wish for him may finally come true
The house is dark but your eyes have long since adjusted to the shuttered windows and beams of moonlight being cast through them. You know that if he’s back, he would come here, to be with you once more. Heart pounding, much like the day of your release, you can’t help but feel both excited and fearful.
You may have him back…
but will he want you?
A floorboard creaks behind you and, at breakneck speed, you whip around to find a man. At no less than 6’9, he’s imposing and a figure that most would be intimidated by. But you know him, have known him since you were both tongue. Breathing out a sigh of relief, you watch him carefully, noticing all the ways he’s changed.
“Michael… you came.”
A single nod is all it takes for you to become at parallel with those years ago and you fling yourself into his arms. It’s almost as if he’s a boa constrictor, the way he wraps himself around you. It’s comforting, a feeling you had long since forgotten. His head rests on top of yours, arms encircling your body as you cling to him, desperation filtering through into the embrace. After a few minutes, you pull away, looking up at him.
“I missed you… every day for 845 of them. I- I thought you’d forgotten me. Thank you for coming back, thank you.”
His head tilts, watching you in turn before finding yourself back in his arms, completely at ease with yourself. If you could feel him trembling slightly, you’re sure it’s just your imagination.
Though you had to leave Haddonfield (dating it’s known killer isn’t best for publicity), you can’t be happier with your life. You’d found another town, somewhere quiet and stable, somewhere that you can live with Michael in peace…
*slam*
Well, almost peace. The door of the wooden house slams open and shut, Michael soon shuffling into the room and directing his attention to you, bringing you close to him once more. Though many say the killer has no feelings, you can’t help but reject that, he just needs to trust first. And he trusts you. Opening his palm to you, Michael gestures for you to take what he’s holding. A (preferred colour) mens wedding band lays there and your eyes shine as you glance to him.
“Michael… this is gorgeous.”
Your voice is breathless, an deep awe detailing just how flustered but pleased you truly feel. His other hand comes out, showing off a matching black band around his finger.
“Oh. Oh Michael… I do.”
Turning in his arms, you raise the mask for your lips to meet his. He presses into you, albeit lightly, and makes sure to keep you close.
Hell, maybe you’d be forgiven if you went back to Haddonfield after dating it’s killer, but you sure as shit can’t go back now. And who’s to say where the rumours started, it may or may not have been you. After all, who wouldn’t be proud of who you are and what you had accomplished?
What is the rumour? Well…
Its the rumour of the Boogeyman’s husband.
#michael myers#rz!michael myers#rz michael myers#halloween#rz halloween#rob zombie#x male reader#x reader#reader#male!reader#male reader#reader insert
112 notes
·
View notes
Text
Down the Rabbit Hole - ch 12
Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels x female reader
Co-written with @absurdthirst
When Jack accidentally shoots a civilian on a mission he takes on not only the guilt of the man’s death, but inherits his soulmate as well. To you, it’s a dream job with more perks than you can imagine - but for Jack it’s a nightmarish complication. Even more so when he starts to develop feelings.
Rating: Mature! 18+
Word Count: 17.1k
Warnings: *Blanket warnings - mentions of deceased spouse, a lot of food and alcohol consumption, family recipes, age gap, cursing.* Anxiety, accidental hurt, panic attack (symptoms based on my own personal experiences), intrusive/racing thoughts, physical symptoms of anxiety, hurt/comfort. *Author chooses not to disclose all warnings so as not to spoil a plot point! It has been spoiled in the tags if you would rather know ahead of time!*
Summary: An impromptu trip with the girls leads to a lightbulb moment that you wish had never come.
Notes: And you guys thought everything was smooth sailing after the proposal? Oh no...we can’t have that...
Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11 ~ Ch 12 ~ Ch 13 ~ Ch 14 ~ Ch 15 ~ Epilogue
It was something of a joke the first time it got brought up. One night long after dinner service was over when you and Jack had Sophia and Tex over for drinks. You had sat out on the back porch refilling your glasses and chatting about weddings when Tex randomly asked a question.
“Ain’t there a tv show for that? For buyin’ wedding dresses?”
“You mean Say Yes to the Dress?” You had asked, laughing and leaning into Jack’s side. It had been almost the only thing you watched with your sister for months when she was engaged. “Yeah. Why, do you want to watch it?”
“Naw.” He has shaken his head pensively. “Y’all should be on it.” You had laughed. All four of you. Delighted by the silly idea of you and Sophia being on TV together. It had seemed like an idea that came and went like summer breeze. Two whole weeks ago and while you’d fantasized a little, you hadn’t brought it up again. It hasn’t been brought up at all before today.
******
When Sophia blows into a building, people know it. Her tendency to throw the doors open and yell seemingly fits right in with the Statesman group far better than she ever had with Kingsman. So when she bursts through the double door leading to your kitchen, no one on your staff even bats an eye. “Pack your bags, we are getting on the plane!” She squeals, nearly giddy with excitement.
The sound of banging doors hasn't bothered you in your entire life, considering you grew up with noisy siblings, so you are perfectly leaned over a soufflé plate to put the finishing touches on its presentation when Sophia appears in a tornado of activity. "Oh yeah?" You ask, raising an eyebrow that is meant for her but very carefully placing a quenelle of homemade ice cream on the plate to hand off to one of your waitstaff. "Where exactly are we going in the middle of my dinner service?"
“Kleinfield.” She’s smug as she smirks at you and reaches out to pluck a shaving of chocolate off the line to pop into her mouth. “They have a cancelation two days from now and you and I are taking it!”
The spoon you had in your hand promptly clatters to the counter as you stare at her, jaw nearly unhinging from your face in shock. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Would I joke about that?” She gives you a horrified look. “I have Tex’s credit card and need to burn a hole in it!”
“But he—I thought—it was just a joke?” A passing comment from your friend while drinking under the stars. Nothing more. But the look on her face is fully aghast and you shut your mouth for long enough to realize that she’s talking about your day off. “Two days?” You ask, knowing that no, she would never joke about this. As boisterous and excitable and unconventional as Sophia is, she would probably be perfect for Kleinfeld.
“You don’t want to do it?” She asks, knowing that some people talk about doing things and never get the nerve when presented with the opportunity. “It’s okay if you don’t.”
"No, I just...I'm honestly shocked they had an appointment available." The disappointment in Sophia's face is obvious, and you grab a dish towel to wipe your hands on before throwing your arms around her. "Maybe we'll get to be in a background shot of an episode if we linger by a camera long enough."
“Either way, we are going to drink champagne and try on wedding dresses!” The hug rejuvenates her and she’s immediately crushing you in a return embrace. “I want an emerald green Zuhair Murad. Unless I find something I love more.”
"Oh god, you even know what designer you want." If Sophia has faults, preparedness is not one of them. She's always fully informed and ready to go at a moment's notice. "I suppose I should actually look at some designs before we go, shouldn't I?"
“No.” Sophia decides, grinning at you. “Choose whatever dress speaks to you.” She holds up a credit card, sleek and shiny. “I’ve got Whiskey’s card and there’s not a limit.”
"You already went and got his card?" That has you doubled over laughing, so taken aback by her approach and yet you have no idea why. This is who Sophia is. And it's why you love her. The woman is unapologetic about her enthusiasm. "You know I have to work tomorrow, right? And the appointment isn't for two days." Regardless though, it earns her another hug. It might be good to go back to New York for a happy reason...try to form new memories there that have nothing to do with what happened last time...
She pouts at you, clearly wanting to go to New York with her friend now. “Fine but we are spending the entire next three days.” She warns you with a pointed finger. “I need to see the sights.”
"I have a restaurant to run, you know." You just shake your head at her with both hands on her shoulders, barely smothering another laugh and sighing happily. "I'll make it work. Pick out the places you want to see the most and I'll see if my brother is going to be around or if we can crash an event at his art gallery. How does that sound?"
“Perfect! Oh! I asked Diana about coming but she’s insisting she will stay behind and make sure that the restaurant runs smoothly while you are gone.”
"You thought of everything, didn't you?" She always does. It's not as if it's a surprise. "Alright." One more hug and you pull back, shooting her a knowing grin. "Are you staying for supper or should I pack up a to-go order for you to take home to your man?"
“Ohhhhhh dinner.” She moans. “Not having the hour long ‘what do you want for dinner?’ conversation.” She laughs. “Please. Whatever you want to pack up, I’ll buy.”
"The chicken pot pie soup is even better today than usual." And it's one that they haven't tried yet, so you immediately go to pour two to-go containers. "And the biscuits are fresh." You add two of the apple hand pies and a small container of whiskey caramel for good measure, wanting to make sure that they're well fed tonight. "I'll put it on Tex's tab."
“That sounds amazing.” She groans, rolling her eyes. “But everything you make is amazing. I’m just never cooking again.”
"Glad to be of service." The compliment is like a giant fuzzy blanket you can wrap yourself up in, and you hand her the full bag of food with your restaurant's logo on the side. "Now go home and make a list of everything you want to see while we're in New York."
“Don’t tell me that.” Sophia grins and leans in to steal another hug. “Or I’ll plan it like a mission.”
"I can think of worse things." Throwing her a grin, you shoo her toward the door with a laugh. "I'm gonna come by your office before my shift tomorrow and I want to hear at least three ideas, otherwise I'm dragging you to every museum I can possibly think of. Deal?"
“Deal.” Sophia turns back towards you with a grin. “This is going to be great. We are going to have so much fun and the added bonus is that we will drive the boys crazy wondering what we are getting into together.”
"You're the only person in the world who can give Tex a run for his money in the troublemaker department." With one last squeezing hug, you really do have to get back to work. "Go on, Soph. I'll see you tomorrow."
“Bye!” She shouts as she blows out of the restaurant just as eagerly as she came in. You’ve given her more food she hasn’t tried and she’ll be damned if she’s going to let it get cold.
******
Going home to Jack that night is basically falling into a lump on the couch beside him as soon as you walk in the door, but at least you're the happy kind of exhausted. "Good day at work?" You ask, sighing a little as you tuck into his side and steal a sip from his glass on the coffee table.
Jack rolls his eyes slightly. “Alright, but Champ has decided that I need to be tested, make sure I’m up for going back to the field after months away.”
"What kind of test?" It's a fair thing for his boss to insist on, but you can hear the annoyance in Jack's voice.
“Every-damn-thing.” Jack grunts, shaking his head. “Man seems to think I’m getting old. Got me trainin’ with the recruits.”
“I’m sorry I kept you out so long.” You know it’s at least partially because of the trouble you had with each other in the beginning, and you turn your chin to look up at him on the couch. “He’s just doing his job, baby. A boss had to be a boss, even to his best friend.”
“It’s just aggravating.” Jack admits. “The younger group doesn’t mind. But they are in awe.”
“Bask in their admiration then, my love.” That makes you grin, knowing that Jack loves to show off when the opportunity arises. “Have someone other than your fiancée coo over how impressive you are.”
He grumbles under his breath, but it seems to do the trick. Tomorrow’s training not seeming quite so bleak as it has been looking. “Sophia find you?”
“She came by during dinner service.” He seems mollified, and you pick up his hand to kiss his palm before grinning guiltily. “I thought we might talk a little about wedding stuff before she and I leave tomorrow night?”
“What do you want to talk about, sugar?” He had gladly handed over his card to Sophia and told her to make sure you bought whatever you wanted.
"Well...we haven't really planned anything yet." Other than convincing your mother that no, you really can't fit into her wedding dress without major alterations and knowing that he had mentioned a family veil in a conversation ages ago, you've just been too busy with the restaurant to bask in the glow of being engaged. "We haven't even talked about where to have it yet."
“Honestly?” Jack chuckles. “I had anticipated you wantin’ to have the wedding here.”
"Here as in the house, or here as in the Statesman campus?" Either one is fine with you, but you want Jack to be excited for the wedding, too. Just because this will be his second doesn't mean it should be less meaningful.
“I meant here at Statesman.” He corrects. “Or up with your family.” He offers. “It doesn’t matter to me, if I’m honest. As long as you are there and we are happy.” He winks and leans in to press his lips to yours.
"Here at Statesman, then." It's come to mean a hell of a lot to you as a place to live and work anyway, there's no reason not to celebrate it. And your lips twist into a grin that you can't deny at the thought of having the wedding back in New Hampshire. "We threw my sister's wedding at my parents' house. It was so much fucking work, I think they'd be glad to just show up to this one instead of throwing the whole thing."
Jack nods in agreement. “That’ll be a good thing. The whole crew will want to be there.” He warns you with a grin. “It’ll be a big party.”
"A big party, huh? Sounds like fun." It's just teasing, you know it will be. Everyone at Statesman loves Jack, and your extended family will make plenty of fuss. "Do you..." You bite your lip and sit up to actually look him in the eye. "Do you want to do it before or after we go to Montana? I don't mind either way, but I know it's going to be an emotional trip and I don't want you to feel awkward about anything."
“Sugar…” Jack reaches for your hand and he picks it up to kiss the back of it. “I want you to plan this wedding for whenever you want. If we were to do it my way, it would be at the courthouse next week.”
"I mean...we could do that, but you're the one who's gonna tell Sophia that the trip to Kleinfeld is off." You have to bite your lip again, but this time it's to keep from bursting out laughing at the stricken look of worry on his face. Jack clearly does not want to be the one to deliver that news. "I don't mind how long we're engaged, love. I just want us to both be happy. So...since you're being so terribly practical...how about I talk to Diana about what would be the best time once I find my dream dress and find out how long it will take to get? Since I hear those things can take ages to come in."
“That will work for me.” Jack murmurs indulgently. “So you’re plannin’ the weddin’ and I’m plannin’ the honeymoon?” He asks with a teasing grin. He knows you will want his input and he won’t be the type of man to let you take on everything yourself.
“If that’s what you want.” Leaning in to kiss him has you grinning. “I imagine you’ll be choosing someplace where I wear as little as possible?”
“It’s like you know me.” Jack jokes, actually thinking about making one of your dream trips possible on your honeymoon. While time in bed is a must, he also knows you want to see the world.
“I’m happy as long as you’re there.” You promise him. “Just let me know when you pick so I can pack accordingly.”
“Would you prefer Paris or Thailand?” He asks with a smirk. “Was thinking we could do a week in Bangkok and then set ourselves up on an island resort. Or we could do the classics.”
Eyeing him like you think he might be teasing you, you decide to just roll with it and see what he says. "Depends on when the wedding is. If it's winter? Thailand, no contest. But summer? That's Paris."
“Then I guess we better figure out if you want a winter or summer weddin’ then, don’t we?” He chuckles. “Somethin’ to be said for both times of year here.”
"Guess I better talk to Diana, then. And figure out a dress." Leaning in, you steal a small kiss and relax against him again. "You...you had mentioned a veil...a while ago. And I wondered if it might be something that I could...take to New York with me? Or at least see it beforehand? I would hate to pick out a dress that it doesn't look good with when you said it was important to you."
Jack squeezes your hand and gets up with a grunt. “Come on, sugar. The veil is in the safe. Let’s see how it looks on you.”
You set the security system and Jack shuts off the lights on your way upstairs, ready to settle in for the night. The safe is in your bedroom anyway, so there won't be any reason to go back downstairs. "I assume you'd prefer I pick something white?" There's teasing on the tip of your tongue as you climb the stairs together. "I mean...who knows what I could find while Sophia is looking for her green dress."
“Sugar, I want you to pick out whatever catches your eye and makes you feel like a Princess.” He murmurs as he leads you towards the bedroom. “As long as you don’t mind there being a cowboy hat on me and all my groomsmen, we’re good.” He teases.
"I'd be disappointed if you went without." The feeling of his large hand around yours is soothing and grounding so you turn down the hall at the top of the stairs. It's automatic now, having slept in that bed with him so many times even before you were officially moved in. "Have you decided who you're going to ask?"
“Tex is gonna be my best man– if you’re good with it.” He turns and watches you carefully, wanting to make sure that you don’t hide your feelings towards it. “I was kind of hopin’ you might consider Champ officiating?”
"What if we did...couples? Kind of?" The thought is worth chewing over, and you sit down on the bed while he opens the safe. "Champ to officiate and I'll ask Diana to be our planner? Tex and Sophia as best man and maid of honor. Astrid and my brother for your other groomsmen and Gabi and my sister for my other bridesmaids?" It's like a perfect split of your friends, and you had always said that you wanted your siblings to be in your wedding party if you ever found your soulmate. After all – you were in theirs. "Does that sound okay?"
“Anyone else you want to invite?” He asks, punching in the code for the safe and swings it open. He knows exactly where the veil is, packed away in a box for protection and safekeeping. He pulls it out and turns back around to face you. “Friends from before?”
"Maybe a few. But I brought a couple of them in for the restaurant, to be honest. My best friend from culinary school is my front-of-house manager, and my closest friend from the pastry circuit back home is my pastry sous. So...aside from my extended family, most people really are already here." It's something that actually makes you more comfortable than you had realized, and bringing in your friends to help you run your dream restaurant only made it all the better.
Jack nods. “Whoever you want. We can make sure that everyone comes, even if we have to set up huge reception tents outside.”
"Is that it?" The box in his hands is cradled with care, and you know it can't be anything else. There isn't much in the safe besides weaponry and a few valuables, and that box is the only thing you haven't seen yet.
“If you don’t like it, you don’t have to wear it.” Jack offers before he hands you the box. Despite what he had said about this being a family tradition, he wasn’t going to insist on it if you hated it.
"Unless it's a literal tablecloth, I can't imagine disliking it." And even if it were, you would still wear it if it was important to him. He looks nervous as you lift the lid, but the second you reveal the lace to the light you gasp in awe. It's simple and stunning - classic in the way the scalloped lace at the edges is full of beautifully woven flowers that ease into the body of the veil to give way to simplicity. When you lift it out you can see that it has an attached clip, encrusted with beautiful, crystal-clear rhinestones. "Jack..." You look up at him on the verge of another gasp. "It's gorgeous."
“You like it?” He asks, shuffling slightly and wondering if you are just saying that. He had family pictures going back generations with this veil and if you decided you didn’t want it, he would be disappointed but understand.
"I love it." You're practically in tears over it, and immediately stand up from the bed to go in front of the mirror and get an idea of what it would look like in your hair. The gold and rhinestone clip and floral lace are giving you ideas that you never would have imagined for yourself. "I'm going to pick something simple for a dress." Whether you're telling yourself or him is up for debate. "So this can be the center piece." Without having any family at all to invite, it's the perfect way to still have them with him at the wedding.
“It looks gorgeous on you, sugar.” Jack swallows, not wanting to compare you to his late wife, but you both look like angels wearing the family veil. It’s been a long time since he’s even looked at it. “Probably needs to be cleaned. But I’ve kept it as safe as I could.”
"I'll ask Diana. Something tells me that she will know a place that can handle something this delicate." It's silly, but you really don't want to take it off so quickly. But he's right, it's an heirloom and an antique, and should be handled with care. "I'm honoured that you want me to wear it, honey. It's beautiful, and a beautiful memory to have."
“I will admit.” He reaches out and touches the lace. “I was hopin’ you’d want to wear it.”
"I absolutely do." Leaning over a little, you leave a kiss brushed on his cheek and rub his arm gently. "I'm going to take some pictures of it, if that's okay with you? I don't want to risk something happening to it on the trip. It's more delicate that I had imagined."
“No, you take it with you.” Jack insists. “It’s a lot tougher than it appears. It’s been through more than most family heirlooms.”
“I’ll pack it up in something safe and padded,” you promise, already trying to think of your laptop case will fit the bill. Either way, you carefully take the clip out of your hair and wrap your arms around him as soon as the veil is back in its box. “I’m glad we have something of your family’s for the wedding.” You wish you could do more than that - find some way to have them there - but some things are beyond even your determined reach.
“She woulda liked you.” Jack admits in a quiet voice. “Woulda boxed my damn ears for how I treated you, but if there was some way for you two to be in the same time, she woulda joked about the two of you runnin’ me ragged.”
"If there was some way for us to be in the same time, I know she and I would have been friends." Though you don't really know how you know it, all of the things you've ever learned about Abigail Daniels all add up to the kind of person you would have loved to be friends with. "She'd give me shit about the whole thing with Tex, and she'd love Sophia to death just like I do. And..." You sit down on the bed with him again and pick Jack's hand up in both of yours. "And I hope that sometimes I remind you of her. Even a little bit. And that sometimes you're just like that cook from Boston."
“That might be what scared me the fucking most.” Jack whispers quietly. “You do remind me of her. That same spirit. Caring nature.” He lifts your joined hands and puts your arms around his shoulders. “But I love you. For you.”
"I love you, too, Jack Daniels." It always makes you smile, the way the sentence rolls off your tongue so naturally and makes him blush, pushing that lone dimple up into the meat of his cheek. "But I hope you know that giving Sophia your credit card means she is gonna make sure I come home with the most expensive wedding dress New York City has to offer."
“It’s why I gave it to her.” He pouts at you playfully. “You either wouldn’t have accepted it or resolved to spend as little as possible on it.” He grumbles, unsure of why you disbelieve the fact that he can afford to spoil you. “She’s under orders to have them remove the price tags from the gowns before you try them on.”
"Tex is convinced they're going to put us on camera." Later in the night he had texted you to thank you for dinner and excitedly gushed about how he was dead certain that if two ravishing ladies such as yourself walked up into that salon with fancy fiancés and unlimited budgets, they would be fools not to put you on the show. "I don't think it works like that, but I didn't want to dash his dreams."
“Hardheaded fool.” Jack shakes his head and sighs. “Sophia can’t be on the show.” He explains softly. “At least not featured. She’s an active agent.”
"She's the most special thing to him in the world and he likes to dream about it. It's sweet." His exasperation is endearing - brotherly, really - and you grin. "He's sappy and in looooove."
“Yeah. He is a sap.” Never one to turn down a chance to insult Tex good-naturedly, he chuckles. “He’s gonna cry when he gets the bill for her dress.”
"She's going to look spectacular." You know that without hesitation. Even if she weren't a statuesque beauty to begin with, her assuredness and vivacity would make her a knock-out no matter what. "It'll be the most unconventional wedding dress you've ever seen."
“The boy said she was wantin’ a green weddin’ dress.” He hums, looking at you curiously. “Are you thinkin’ something along the same lines or traditional?”
"I think the wildest I'll get is a flower pattern or something in the fabric. No colors or anything over the top for me." Somehow you have a feeling that Jack wouldn't say a word if you wanted to be untraditional, but he's hoping for white in his heart. And honestly? You never imagined anything but white on your own anyway. Maybe ivory - but that is hardly a stretch of the imagination. "My mom and my sister had these very elaborate dresses with lace and rhinestones and bows and stuff and I just...I don't know. I think I want to do something simple. And definitely something white."
“Simple is good.” Jack slides his hands around your waist and pulls you closer. “Simple lets the gorgeous bride shine. Instead of just looking at the dress, they will be lookin’ at you, sugar. Envious and wonderin’ how the fuck I got so lucky.”
Your immediate impulse is to protest that you’re the lucky one in this situation, but you know you’ll just end up going back and forth flattering each other. “We’re both lucky,” you insist, leaning forward to press your lips to his.
He can concede that, smirking slightly against your lips. Tilting his head and sliding his tongue into your mouth to deepen the kiss and groans when you immediately respond. The way Jack kisses you will never cease to thrill you. Reverent and wanting but always playful. It makes you smile into the kiss and ring your arms around his neck to pull him in closer. “I’m gonna miss you while I'm in the city.”
He frowns slightly and pulls you closer. “I’m going to miss you too, sugar.” He admits. He’s worried. Worried that you might not react to being in the city where you were tortured, but he’s not going to bring it up. If you aren’t thinking about it, he doesn’t want to put it in your mind. “But you will have a lot of fun with Sophia. You two are gettin’ along good.”
“She’s great.” You tilt your chin back to kiss the tip of his nose and smile, trying to wipe the frown off of his face. “And I know I’ll be safe with her.” It’s not as if you hadn’t thought about where you’re going. But you can’t exactly shun the city where your own brother lives for the rest of your life.
“You will be.” Jack looks down into your eyes seriously. “Please wear the bracelet and your earrings?” He begs softly.
“Cross my heart.” You nod earnestly, pressing another kiss to his lips. “And if I never go to Brooklyn again it’ll be too soon.”
He hums, tightening his grip on you slightly. “I would offer to come but I think there’s some rule about seeing the dress.”
"There's a very big rule about it, and I want you to be surprised." Although you can't deny that you always feel safer with him around, you know that Sophia will be able to take care of anything that comes up. If anything does at all, which it shouldn't now that Jack had taken care of the Rollins boys. "Unless...maybe Astrid could come with us? If she wanted to, and Gabi was okay with it? Then I'd have two of the baddest ass women I know looking out for me and you might feel a little calmer?"
“You take whoever you need to, sugar.” It’s sweet that you want to calm him down but he will always feel a little anxious when you aren’t in his sight. He’s already come to terms with that fact.
"It'll all be fine." You assure him, solidly reminding yourself of it as well. "We'll both be a little unsettled but I'll be fine with Sophia. And I'll wear my bracelet and my earrings so you can watch my little tracker dot circle around the dress shop a bunch of times and grin about it."
“I think you’ll find your dress in under an hour.” Jack predicts.
"You want to be more specific?" The idea of a little bet is intriguing to you and you pull apart from him to start undressing for bed. "Make a wager, maybe?"
“You know what you like and what you don’t.” Jack explains. “Even if you don’t have any particular style in mind before you go in, I wager an extra week on our honeymoon that you find your dress within an hour.”
"So if you're right, we add an extra week to the honeymoon." Tossing your socks in the laundry basket, the t-shirt you were wearing joins it next. "If it takes longer than that, which I think it will because I have no clue what I'm looking for other than 'not what my mother or sister wore', then..." You think through it, trying to think if there's anything you've wanted that he has ever said no to. Which of course, there isn't, so you go for something silly instead. "Then you and I are going to take an extremely silly engagement trip somewhere. Disney levels of silly."
Jack chuckles, knowing that it would seem extremely silly, but it would be worth it. “You’re on, sugar.” He hums happily, watching as you strip down and he starts to unbuckle his belt. “It’ll be great having you on the honeymoon for an extra week, but—” He points at you playfully and wags his finger. “You can only call to check in on your restaurant once a day.”
"Twice." You immediately pop up, turning to throw him a pout in protest. After all, pouting topless has never steered you wrong before - even if you're a little too anxious tonight to be thinking about sex. For the last several days, actually. "Once at the beginning of business and once toward the end of the night."
“One call, one text.” Jack haggles with you, smirking slightly although his eyes are squarely centering on your tits at the moment. Not sure if he’s smirking at the conversation or at the sight of your beautiful breasts.
"One call and one text. I can deal with that." You'll conspire with your sous chef later to communicate far more than that, but that's for later. "See something you like, cowboy?" It does make you smile, even though you're currently digging into the dresser to pull out an oversized t-shirt to sleep in.
“You can’t expect to pull out your tits and not have me stare at them.” He huffs dramatically, although he’s noting that you are already putting clothes back on, the universal signal for ‘not tonight’. To be fair, there has been a lot of sex and he doesn’t care if you want to have a rest. Instead of stripping down completely, he leaves his boxers on as he pulls back the covers.
"You're always allowed to stare at them, babe. Just like I'm always allowed to stare at your ass." Grateful that he doesn't seem to be fiercely ready for sex tonight, you crawl into bed beside him and snuggle up tight.
Curling his arms around you and pulling you into his chest, Jack presses his lips to your forehead. You seem perfectly content to let tonight be a snuggly affair and he’s perfectly okay when that, sighing softly at your warmth against his chest. The beating of your heart that he can just barely hear. “It’s a good thing you like it, cause it’s barely there. Better narrow your eyes to see it.”
“I’m gonna have to get a very powerful glasses prescription from Astrid,” you joke, giggling when you look up at him in bed and he frowns dramatically in response.
Jack reaches between you and pinches your nipple. “Brat.”
“Ow.” You’re laughing until you’re not, confused as to why the normally playful gesture hurts tonight. Jack must have accidentally pinched harder than usual. “Now I’m a pouty brat.”
“Shit, sugar.” He goes to rub your breasts to apologize but you twist away. Instead he strokes your back. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He promises, feeling guilty for being too rough. He must have pinched harder than normal.
“S’ok.” You shrug, but also shrug out of his touch, slipping down beside him with a soft smile. “Kisses make things better, ya know.”
“I’ll give you as many kisses as you want.” He keeps his hands away from your chest, settling them on your sides as you lean in so he can kiss you.
“Sounds perfect to me.” Determined not to let your nerves about going to New York seep in, you just hope you get a good night’s sleep tonight. You’ve been restless lately – who knows why.
“Let’s get some sleep, sugar.” Jack suggests, unwinding one arm from around you so he can turn off the light. “You’ve got some big weddin’ decisions to be makin’.”
******
When you actually depart for New York it's early in the morning two days later, and you and Sophia have Gabi along with you for the trip. The idea of inviting Astrid was well-meaning for Jack's comfort, but since both of you had actually planned on asking Gabi to be your bridesmaid individually you had decided to make this trip a sort of event. The three of you sit over breakfast on the Statesman jet, talking over what Sophia wants to see and all the little things that you think you might look for in a dress or for your weddings. It's a calm flight, all things considered, but you still find yourself picking at your breakfast and wishing your upset stomach would subside.
“Are you good?” Gabi reaches out and touches your elbow. “I know the food isn’t as good as yours, but it’s not worth shredding the bagel.” She teases with a grin.
"I felt kind of off yesterday, too." You admit, looking between your friends with a sheepish expression. "I think I'm nervous."
“It’s okay to be nervous.” She promises. “I kept choking on my own spit the day Astrid and I got married. Broke out in hives.”
"Oh god..." As comforting as it is to know that even the happiest couples you know had plenty of wedding nerves, that just makes you groan in the moment. "Don't tell me that. Tell me everything's going to work out and the stuff that goes wrong will be little and unimportant and we'll laugh about it later."
“Everything turned out amazing.” She assures you with a smile that can only be from a person still completely besotted with their soulmate. “One of the best days of my life. And it will be yours as well.”
"Gabi's official role as bridesmaid for both of us is to be the calm one." Sophia jokes, sitting back at the table in the belly of the jet with her hands wrapped around her iced coffee. "Which reminds me," she grins, eyes flashing mischief at you before focusing on Gabi. "Hen parties. What did you and Ginger do?"
Gabi snorts and shakes her head. “Uhhhh….” Her grin is devilish and she shrugs. “We went to a male strip club.” She admits with a cackle.
"Seriously?" You almost do a spit take of your herbal tea, which would not help your stomach in the least.
“What?” She gives a shrug of her shoulders as if it was nothing surprising. “Just because we are desperately in love doesn’t mean we don’t like to look at dick.” She huffs playfully, dropping her voice on ‘dick’.
"So you like to look but don't want to touch men?" Human sexuality is such a fucking spectrum that you typically don't ask questions, but now you're curious. Plus, it's probably the first time you've ever seen Gabi blush. Ever.
“Ummm….” She shrugs again and gestures uselessly with her hands. “All of our kids were, uh, conceived naturally. So sometimes we do like to touch.”
"So..." This is breakthrough information that has you sitting up in your chair, practically giggling in delight. "Jack just...assumed you're a lesbian and no one ever corrected him? Because he definitely thinks you're a lesbian."
“To be fair, we are in a committed relationship and don’t really talk about anybody before finding each other.” Gabi defends lightly. “And we were very discreet with the fathers of our kids.” She giggles. “Plus, if Jack knew, he might have volunteered to get one of us pregnant and while I would have gone for it….Astrid would have worried it would affect their work relationship.”
"He absolutely would have volunteered." And rather than making you feel awkward in any way, you can absolutely laugh about it. "Well it seems I learned something about my friends today!”
Gabi shrugs and smirks. “So don’t feel bad about wanting a male dancer for my sake!” She jokes. “I’ll be upfront since it’s been a while.”
“Oh!” Shrinking back in your seat a little, you shake your head and laugh nervously. “I wasn’t planning on having a bachelorette party. No dancers or strippers or whatever for me.”
“What?” Gabi immediately shakes her head. “You are having a bachelorette party. Even if it’s just a spa thing with the girls.”
“No one’s saying we’re dragging you to Vegas for a Magic Mike show and endless rounds of cocktails by the pool.” Sophia waggles her eyebrows. “Although that does sound grand.”
“That’s what we’ll do for you, then.” That kind of party is much more styled to Sophia’s outgoing personality, and you’re definitely more up to planning something like that than being the focus of it. “Mine will be the low key version of things.”
Gabi nods. “Noted. Sophia wants naked men, you want pedicures.” She teases. “But you will stuff some dollar bills in a g-string if given the opportunity?”
“I promise to stuff at least two bills into two separate g-strings.” You snort, shaking your head at the very silly bargain.
“At least.” Gabi agrees with a grin. “Who knows, maybe Astrid and I will have the motivation to start looking for another donor for baby number three.”
“Your third baby donor and my brother’s second husband,” you half-joke, knowing full well it’s only half. If your brother knew you were going to a strip club he’d be there in a heartbeat. Sophia cackles at that, gleefully enjoying the image it brings to mind, and you snort a laugh that brings the whole table into a fit of giggles.
“So.” Gabi leans in and grins. “A little birdy told me that you and Jack have a little wager.” She hums. “I am to act as timekeeper.”
“Oh god.” Despite your embarrassed laughter, you do sit up and reach for your tea. “If I find a dress in under an hour, he’s adding an extra week to our honeymoon. If it takes over an hour, I get to be treated to a silly little engagement trip. He’s convinced I’m going to find one in no time.”
“So you win either way.” Sophia looks impressed, sore that she hadn’t come up with something like that with Tex. “Bravo.”
You shrug, knowing the compromise is really just a win for both of you, and it’s really just about when to have an extra week of vacation. “I know it’s going to take me forever, so you two will have to help me come up with someplace extraordinarily silly for him to take me.”
“Knotts Berry Farm.” Sophia immediately pipes up. “Or Disney World. And make him wear the ears!”
“If I bring that man to Disney World, I’m dressing him up like Woody and absolutely no one can stop me.” It would certainly qualify as silly, and your beloved cowboy soulmate would undoubtedly have you dressed up in something equally silly the next day as revenge. “And I would take so many videos.”
“You would have to!” Gabi laughs at the mental image and shakes her head. “There’s a snake in my boot!” Sophia cries out in an exaggerated imitation of Jack’s voice.
“Excuse me, ladies.” The flight attendant that welcomed you all on board and set out your breakfast comes over with a smile, having clearly recognized the impression Sophia was doing. “We’ll be landing shortly. If you wouldn’t mind buckling in, I’ll just clear this away. You’ll be on the ground in twenty minutes or less.”
Sophia looks giddy as the plane starts to descend, looking out the windows although the clouds still cover up the view. “Thank you for coming.” She says suddenly. “I am excited for this.”
“You made this happen.” Reaching over to hold her hand tightly, the way she grips yours back eagerly is full of excitement and anticipation. “We’re glad to be here for the ride. And I am also very excited about this appointment.”
“I am just here for the free champagne.” Gabi teases, honored that both women would include her in such a big event. Even better, she gets a mini vacation that is sure to rejuvenate her.
******
The ride from the airport to Kleinfeld is animated, with all three of you mashed into the backseat of the Statesman SUV that came to pick you up at the private airstrip. Apparently, having three agency soulmates fly into the city for a few days landed you some privileges, especially since Sophia is an active agent - and the best perk might actually be having a driver at your disposal.
“So Sophia already has an idea of what she wants. What are you thinking?” Gabi asks. “I know you have Jack’s family’s veil with you.”
“Yes, I do. And it’s non negotiable. If the dress doesn’t compliment the veil, it’s not the one.” The tote bag you’re carrying today holds any number of things, but your laptop case containing that veil is the most precious by far. “I just want something simple. As vague as that is.”
“Simple can always be wonderful.” The only married woman in the group insists. “Especially when on such a gorgeous woman.”
“Flatterer.” A sly grin in Gabi’s direction makes both of you laugh, and you reach for the front door of the bridal salon with a sharp intake of nervous breath. “Okay, ladies. Here we go!”
“Reservation is under my name.” Sophia turns towards you two before a woman in a tailored pantsuit walks up to the group. “Hello.” She watches as the woman seems surprised by the accent and smiles. “We have a reservation. Andrews.”
"Of course. Welcome!" The perfectly coiffed platinum blonde smiles broadly and waves you all over to the desk. "My name is Ellie, and I'm actually your consultant today so this was perfect timing to run into each other." She laughs, but instead of being put-on or polite, she sounds genuinely amused as she glances down at the computer behind the counter and back up again. "Now this is a double appointment, right? You, Sophia...and...?"
"And me." You put out your hand out to her and find yourself smiling in mirror to the woman – Ellie is one of the consultants frequently featured on the show but you would be hard pressed to actually say anything. She probably gets enough of that every single day from other brides.
“I already know what I am looking for.” Sophia announces, motioning towards you. “She is the one who isn’t quite sure what she is looking for. Although she has brought a family heirloom veil from the groom’s family that she wants to use.”
"Oh wow." Ellie looks suitably impressed and waves the three of you toward the belly of the salon. "Well let's go and get you ladies set up, and we can talk a little about what we're looking for and what our budgets look like." She moves through the space with ease and the three of you follow easily until you're shown to a soft, blue loveseat in one corner of the salon. "Since we have two brides trying things on I have a seat here for our third friend, and two pedestals for trying things on. But for now," she grins and pulls up an extra chair. "Let's have a little chat. Fiancés, weddings, budgets, all that good stuff."
“Budget is no concern.” Sophia hoots, pulling out Jack’s card. “Her fiancé is the CEO of Statesman distillery.”
"And hers," you side eye Sophia with nothing but love. "Is Head of Security." Tequila's return Stateside and good work at Kingsman had come with a step up in his civilian job title, much to his delight. It corresponded directly with his accolades as a senior agent. "They're best friends, and close with our friend Gabi's wife. Who is also a department head at Statesman. We're a big work family. But, um...yeah. Our fiancés are footing the bill, and they said no budget."
"My goodness." It's pretty clear Ellie wants to swear but she's too professional and she nods along with what you're saying. "So let's talk weddings, then? And fiancés? Sophia, you said you already know what you're looking for so why don't you tell me a little about everything?"
“I am not traditional.” She flashes a sardonic smile. “Trying to throw off my Britishness.” She jokes, you and Gabi laughing. “My fiancé is a huge cowboy and his engagement ring for me is a good indicator of our whimsy. I have decided I would like an emerald green wedding dress and my bridesmaids will wear white tea length gowns. Emerald green accents.”
"Okay!" Ellie nods, obviously a little thrown off by that idea but ultimately undeterred. "We don't have a lot in the salon in green, but what I can do is pull dresses that I know the designers are willing to do in colours and show you a fabric sample of what that colour would look like. How does that sound to you?" If it isn't satisfying to this bride Ellie will have to pull out her Hail Mary very early in this appointment.
“I was hoping for a Zuhair Murad gown?” Sophia suggests. “If that’s possible?”
"It's definitely possible." The excitable blonde nods her head and looks around the group of the three of you conspiratorially. "He's actually here today. We have a trunk show of his gowns going on this week and he's in store to meet with brides and consult on some things. I definitely think it would be worth bringing him into this appointment so that you can get that emerald color you want. His coloured gowns are stunning."
“Are you serious?” Sophia looks positively star struck and she can’t nod quick enough. For her, the designer is the entire reason she had wanted to come here.
"In that case." Ellie's eyes flash and she turns to you with a grin. "Let's talk about you, my dear. What are you looking for? What kind of wedding are we thinking of having?"
"Our situations are very similar in most ways, but in some ways we're the total opposite of each other." You explain, laughing a little when Sophia shrugs unapologetically. "We're both marrying Statesman execs, both having our wedding on the Statesman campus. I think we're both going for a sort of elegant Southern vibe. But where Soph is vibrant and extroverted and more of a party girl, I'm definitely looking for something simple and classic. My worry, though, is that everything simple is going to end up being a little boring."
“Your friend said the veil was going to be a part of your look. May I see it?” She asks, eager to see what kind of style the veil is designed in.
"The veil is an heirloom." Carefully digging into your tote, you unzip the case you have it in and lift out the antique lace to show the consultant. "This is the only thing that is non-negotiable. I could walk out of here with the most expensive and elaborate dress you sell even though I came in wanting simple and chic, but it has to work with this veil. Every bride in my soulmate's family for the last hundred and twelve years has worn it."
“It’s beautiful.” Ellie’s eyes widen and she reaches out to examine the lace. “This is hand sewn.” It is much better quality than most veils brought in that were from the 70s or 80s and the bride's mother wanted them to wear. This piece is timeless. “Simple, you say? This would look magnificent against a satin bridal gown.”
“I’m open to trying anything.” It would be silly to point out that you’re not used to wearing gowns so anything she suggests to try would be new for you. You can’t imagine most women wear an excess of gowns in their lifetime. Some, of course. But not most.
"Do you have any preference for cut?" She asks, eyeing your figure. "I have a selection of gowns that would be gorgeously simple and not clash with the veil but rather work with it to give you a wonderful bridal look."
“I just want to be able to dance,” you tell her with a grin. “He’s an amazing dancer.”
Nodding, she gently lets go of the veil and smiles at the three of you. "I will get you set up with some champagne and then start pulling dresses for you to see." She promises as she stands up. "I feel like you both will find exactly what you want."
It's a few minutes before your consultant returns with a tray of drinks and shows you that your dressing rooms are the ones right beside where you're sitting. She disappears again with an excited grin, headed into the belly of the salon to the stockroom to pull some dresses. It seems like the three of you have barely had a few sips, though, when a tall man with dark features and an easy smile sidles up to your area. "Miss Andrews?" He asks in a thick Middle-Eastern accent, looking to see which one of you answers. "Ellie told me you were interested in one of my colored gowns for your wedding dress."
Sophia’s eyes widen and she is immediately standing, rushing to shake the hand of one of her favorite designers. “Yes.” She gushes happily. “I am in love with your designs.”
“The very highest compliment I could ever receive.” Murad smiles warmly and shakes Sophia’s hand with both of his. “There are a few gowns here that could be dyed. I will help Ellie pull those for you and we will see what you think of them. But,” he flashes her a grin. “If we do not turn up anything here, then we will come up with a design all your own, together.”
“The only thing that I care about is that the dress matches the color of my ring.” Sophia can’t help but grin back at the handsome man.
"A beautiful piece," he praises, letting the emerald catch the light and dance. "Your fiancé has excellent taste."
"Thank you." Sophia beams and twists the ring on her hand. "We were joking that I should have a dress to match and I absolutely fell in love with the idea."
"It is not a joke, it is genius." The designer flashes a grin at Sophia and then at you and Gabi on the plush little loveseat. "Let me see what is here that can be dyed, and I will come back with Ellie to see what you think."
Sophia giggles nervously and nods, turning back towards you and Gabi when he walks away. "Oh my fucking god! I cannot believe I just met him!!!!" She squeals, nearly apoplectic with glee.
"I think that was more than a meet, honey," you wrap a giddy Sophia up in a hug and let her giggle fit ride itself out naturally. "He just offered to custom design your wedding dress if you don't like anything on site."
"Oh god, he did, didn't he?" She's completely awestruck and nearly spills her champagne as she plops down on the cushioned chaise lounger. "I missed that. I just– oh my god, do you think he would find it strange if I invited him to the wedding?"
"I don't know if he would be able to come, but I think it would be a very nice gesture." She's completely overcome with the encounter and you can't help but laugh softly. "How about if I meet my dress's designer too, we'll both invite them. And then we can be weird together?" It's such a silly suggestion, but kind of a sweet one. Like a big thank you for a day that is already so wonderful.
"Maybe he can design something simple for you." She bites her lip and looks around in complete starstruck awe. "I cannot believe I am here. We are here. We are going to be getting married!"
“She’s gonna take off to outer space.” Gabi laughs, carefully extracting Sophia’s glass from her hand while you hug her.
“Can’t say I blame her.” There’s activity all around you, consultants toting dresses and other brides giddily browsing the pieces hanging in the sales floor, and you look around with a sigh. “It’s like bridal Disneyland.”
Gabi snorts and can't deny that. "It is bridal Disney, isn't it?" She hums, amused by the idea. "We need to see about adding a bridal boutique to the Statesman label." She chuckles. "Have it be an all in one wedding venue."
“If we had a bridal label we’d be unstoppable.” The very idea of it makes you grin, as if you don’t have enough on your plate already with the restaurant just opening and the event planning taking off at the same time. “Champ would either throw resources at us or realize he’s created a monster.”
"You don't think that man is aware that he has created a monster?" Gabi asks you, raising a brow even as she grins at you. "He's fully aware."
“Jack’s the one who keeps encouraging me to dream,” you shrug like it means nothing, but it’s honestly one of the more sincere and romantic things he could possibly do. “Champ’s just the facilitator.”
"Maybe one day." Gabi offers, leaning over to tap her glass to yours. "Lord knows our Statesman family is going to be growing."
“Still thinking about baby number three?” She had seemed to glow with the idea after joking about it on the plane, and you could definitely see Gabi and Astrid deciding to give Ricky and Carmen a little brother or sister.
“I kind of am.” She admits with a dreamy smile. “I know Astrid would let me carry the next one, so I just– I want to talk to her about it and see what she thinks.”
"You guys are the cutest parents. I'm sure she'd be excited for it." Aside from your sister and brother-in-law, Gabi and Astrid are the parents of young children that you've spent the most time around and that both makes you ache and anxious all at once. It would be wonderful to have kids, but you have no idea how you would be as a mother or how Jack would respond to the idea of being a father again.
“Are you okay?” Gabi’s soft smile turns concerned as she scooches closer to you. “You suddenly look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
It hit you like a ton of bricks - the horror tinging your realization with fear. When was your last period? "I'm okay." Unfortunately it's a flat out lie, but you just smile and set your champagne glass back on the tray when Ellie reappears with her hands full of gowns. Gabi doesn't need to know. No one needs to know. No one needs to know that you can't remember the date of your period. Getting an IUD had never made them stop completely, only made them dramatically lighter. But it's...it's been months. Shit.
She doesn’t question you any more, but she side eyes you. Wondering if you are feeling nervous about the dress or if it’s something to do with children. “You know, I think Jack will be a wonderful father.” She murmurs reassuringly right as Ellie starts to talk.
"I have a few of our simpler gowns here in a variety of silhouettes so that you can get a better feeling for what style you might like, and we can go from there," she tells you with a happy smile before looking to Sophia. "And you, my lucky friend, Zuhair just pulled a few things from the stockroom. He's right behind me."
She is practically bouncing in her seat, excited, although she turns towards you expectantly. “Are you ready to find your dream dress and have an extra week of honeymoon?” She teases, having fully sided with Jack.
"We'll see." Forcing yourself to paint on a smile, you push out of your seat and follow Ellie into the small dressing room. Everything on the hangers is delicate and focuses on your body instead of obscuring details, and now all you can think of is how you might be pregnant and trying to do the goddamn math on your cycle.
"Do you have one you want to start with?" The bubbly consultant asks, but the best you can do is chew your lip in concern. "How about something classic?" She suggests when you look more worried than excited. "A simple satin ballgown for that princess feeling?"
"Sure." You nod, reminding yourself how, and start to slip out of your jacket. Focus. You need to focus.
Whisking you off towards the changing area, Ellie starts listing off the attributes of the gown in question, making up for your decided lack of questions. Something has changed but it’s not her place to ask.
The first dress you come out in is...large. It's a poofy princess dress if ever there was one, and with the terror that you're now feeling your mind has wandered to thinking about what any of these gowns would look like on a pregnant woman. "Let's see what they think," you suggest, instead of admitting that you don't like it very much. It's too big and you know that a baby bump would only make it worse.
The moment you step outside the little changing area, both women can tell you don’t like it. They each shake their heads. “It’s too…poofy.” Gabi offers politely and Sophia snorts. “You look like a cream puff.”
“Thanks, guys.” The way you roll your eyes at both of them is a half-assed attempt at humor, and you shake your head. “So ballgown is out? No Princess Sugar?” Humor is good, you tell yourself weakly. Humor will help.
“I think something sleek, more fitted, Princess Peach.” Sophia smirks at you with a wink.
“Now, I know who Princess Peach is,” Ellie laughs, helping you down from the pedestal in the gown that has been dubbed too much “But who is Princess Sugar?”
“Sugar is the nickname that Jack – her fiancé – coined for her.” Gabi explains, throwing you a smirk. “Very southern.”
“I own a restaurant.” Is the explanation you give, stumbling over your words like a nervous weirdo. “I was a pastry chef when we met…I make cakes…it’s a whole thing.”
“It’s sappy and adorable.” Sophia flutters her eyelashes dramatically as you disappear, but jumps off the couch immediately a second later as Murad reappears with three enormous dresses for her to try.
“Here are the ones that I think will be best, if you don’t like them, I can sketch a design.” He offers.
Sophia is giddy as she lets herself be swept into the second dressing room while you go to change into your second dress. Gabi can hear her cooing with glee behind the thin wall, but she didn’t miss the way you hadn’t had any light in your eyes at all when you came out in your first dress. Something happened, she just doesn’t know what or how.
“The dress can be dyed if it is not quite what you are imagining and I have taken the liberty of pulling all emerald green fabrics I have.” Murad calls through the curtain as Ellie helps Sophia into the first dress.
“Sounds like you’re in heaven over there,” you call out through the wall between dressing rooms, enjoying the gleeful sound of Sophia’s giggling next door. The second dress that has been pulled for you is a trumpet gown that you would probably have loved if you weren’t feeling a roiling stomach and the weight of the world on your shoulders. Sophia emerges from the dressing room with a strapless gown with all the most beautiful embellishments and a sweetheart neckline to die for, looking like an angel come down to earth. You remind yourself to smile again, not wanting to spoil your friend’s unbridled excitement.
“What do we think?” Sophia asks, biting her lip as she looks in the mirror at her reflection and dying a little inside as she sees herself.
“You look like a dream, honey!” Gabi squeals, sitting up on the sofa with her glass clutched in both hands. “Tex would lose his mind to see you in that dress.”
“Okay, so I love this, but….” She tilts her head and glances at Murad in the mirror. “There was one that was off the shoulder sleeves, right?”
"Are you thinking of the sleeves from that gown on this one?" He tilts his head at her like an artist considering their muse and grins mischievously. "Let me..." The thought trails off as he ducks out of sight, going to grab a veil from the nearest display and manipulating the long length of fabric in his hands. Each end is somehow magically transformed into a small, loose sleeve that hangs off her shoulder like an elegantly fallen strap. It falls just around the middle of her arm and makes the whole thing look positively refined. "Like this, you mean?"
"Yes." She nods, biting her lip as she stares at herself in the mirror. "That is what I am looking for. The way that it sits has always seemed so refined and luxurious to me."
You stand and watch, taking in the way Sophia’s face lights up and tears well up behind her eyes as she talks with the designer and customizes her gown. He shows her the shades of green he could dye the fabric and they coo over the design together, and you really feel like you might be sick as the room spins around you in anxiety instead of happiness. There have been times you’ve been sick lately - days you haven’t eaten because you’ve been sick to your stomach, extra headaches, back aches, cramping. There was the incident two nights ago with your breasts being overly sensitive… How long has it been? Two months? Three?
Gabi just happens to glance over at you to see the absolutely crushed look on your face. Setting her champagne glass down, she quickly stands and crosses the floor to where you are seemingly doing an astrophysics problem in your head and touches your arm lightly. "Honey, what is wrong? What happened?"
“Nothing.” The answer comes far too quickly and far too sharply, and even Ellie looks concerned on your other side, but you can’t just — oh god, you were drinking…you’ve been drinking alcohol this whole time…and so much caffeine… “I’m not feeling great,” you murmur finally, knowing that it’s half-assed but not daring to spoil Sophia’s moment.
"I have some Tylenol in my purse." Gabi offers helpfully. "Do you have a headache?"
“It’s — m-more of a stomach ache.” It’s an aching feeling everywhere of complete dread and fear, but you make yourself smile for Gabi as though it can be brushed off. “It’s okay. I think I’ll just…lay off the liquor until it subsides.” Or for the next six or seven months…
Highly skeptical, Gabi discreetly glances around the boutique to make sure that you haven't seen someone who has spooked you. You look scared, not like you have a stomachache. "Alright, but if you need me to call Astrid, I can. She can run a diagnostic of you in the Statesman truck."
“If it keeps up.” You nod like you would ever agree to that, even though the idea of being hooked up to anything medical on a Statesman vehicle makes your skin crawl with memories from a month ago. And that’s when it hits you - like a freight train coming right at a cartoon character. If something has gone wrong and you are pregnant? It can’t be Jack’s…
"Oooookay." Gabi grabs you as your knees threaten to buckle and she waves Sophia off. "Let's get you out of this dress and into the bathroom, okay?" Astrid has been concerned that memories from a month ago would resurface and cause issues and from the way you look like you are going to puke, that has to be it. "Okay, come on sweetheart. We can manage everything." She promises. "I have a Valium in my purse just in case something like this happened."
“Is that safe?” You ask in earnest, letting Gabi bring you back into the dressing room like you’re on the end of a set of leading strings.
"It's fine." She assures you quietly. "Astrid gave it to me just in case you had problems."
“I’m okay.” Getting out of the confining dress and back into your own clothes will help, so you don’t hesitate when Gabi shuts the door behind you. Your head is spinning too much which makes the room turn on its axis and the feeling of panic in your chest is making everything more urgent and terrifying.
Maybe that Valium isn’t such a bad idea after all — Astrid sent it because you were attacked here, why did you think this would be a good idea? Everything inside and around you is moving so fast that you don’t even realize you’ve dropped to your knees. Quick, sharp breaths are going to have you hyperventilating in no time but you can’t stop them, and the way your skin is crawling makes you want to scratch your skin clean off. You drag your fingernails up your forearms with purpose, and if you didn’t have short nails from decades of culinary work you might actually succeed in tearing yourself apart.
“Let me–” as a mother, Gabi always carries a bottle of water or a juice box in her purse. Grabbing the oversized bag had been a stroke of luck as she starts to rifle through it until she comes up with a small bottle of water. “Here, drink this.” She kneels down beside you and twists the plastic cap off to hold it up to your lips. “It’s okay.”
It’s a small mercy but still a notable one, mostly because you have to stop scratching yourself to hold the bottle. Gabi gently takes your other hand in both of hers, holding onto it to keep you from spiraling even harder as the tears start to fall and you swear you’re going to choke on the water you just swallowed.
“Come on. It’ll be okay. I promise. No one is going to hurt you.” She murmurs softly. “Our driver is an agent. Sophia is here. Say the word and we’ll have Jack here.”
"No!" The panic that you feel has nothing to do with what happened a month ago and everything to do with the position you would be putting Jack in if what you fear is true. "No–no, I mean...that's not necessary. I'm just..." You feel like an absolute nutcase, but you don't know how to tell her that without sounding silly. "I'm just not feeling well."
“Okay.” The best thing she can do for you is to calm you down. Agreeing with you makes you relax so she doesn’t hit the button in her bracelet yet. “Okay, we’ll just take a few deep breaths, sound good?”
"I'm sorry," you curl in on yourself, not having made it out of the sample wedding dress before the panic started, and wish you could make yourself disappear so you wouldn't feel so damn embarrassed.
“Nothing to be sorry for.” Gabi tells you firmly, cupping your face in her hands. “Nothing at all. Do you understand?”
"I don't want to ruin this for Soph." Or ruin life for Sophia. For your friend. The last time you had your period was the week before your cousin's wedding...Isn't there some kind of old wives' tale about being extra fertile after your period? Or is that before? Shit shit shit.
“You won’t, she wants to be here for you too. She and Tex are so happy for you and Jack.” She insists.
"I'm okay," you insist again, despite it obviously being not true. The best you can do right now is force yourself to refocus. Force yourself to function. Pray that Sophia is so wrapped up in picking out her wedding dress that she never notices that anything was wrong with you in the first place.
“Here.” The small pill is offered to you. “Take this. It will help you relax. Short term.”
"I–um– thanks." Still a little shaky, you manage to take the offered medicine and have another sip of water without too much fuss, and breathe deeply as you stare at your knees. Could it be real? Are you really...pregnant?
It’s long minutes before you start to calm down. Your breathing returns to normal and Gabi takes the now empty water bottle and shoves it back into her purse. “You need another drink? I have a juice box.”
"Would you..." You turn to look at Gabi for the first time since this whole thing started, seeing the concern drawn on her face and the determination that you recognize from seeing her take care of her kids. "Would you just tell Sophia I'm okay if she asks? If she didn't notice then I don't want to worry her."
“I– you don’t think Sophia noticed?” She asks, shocked you would think that.
"Why?" It makes your head spin again in a way that jolts your stomach. "How long have we been in here?"
“Not long, but she’s an agent.” She reminds you gently. “And your mood went from happy to nearly frantic in an instant.”
"All the more reason to let her know that I'm okay, then." It's a miracle that you can think straight, if you're honest, but at least your skin has stopped crawling and you didn't do anything to damage the sample dress still clinging to your body. "I'm sure she has her dress sorted out by now. I'll just..." You blow out a breath that you hope sounds encouraging instead of wavering with fresh tears, which is how you feel. "Change out of this one and try the next. Since this one now has...questionable memories."
"It's not your style anyway." Gabi jokes, sending you a small smile as she stands and holds her hands out to you to help you to stand. After you get back to the hotel tonight, she will discreetly call Astrid and let her know that another therapy session would be good for you.
"Thanks, Gabi." You squeeze her hands before letting them go and refocusing yourself on the dresses that are hanging from the bar on the other side of the small dressing room. Thank god you elected not to wear make up today, or you'd probably look like a raccoon right now.
"This one seems more your style." Gabi offers, although you could never tell when the dress is on the hanger. "Do you want me to help you into it?" She asks quietly, willing to step out if you want.
"If I haven't frightened off our consultant, I'm sure she can help." It's less scary to have to face a near stranger with what's going on in your mind. Ellie doesn't know anything about what's happening in your life. She can't read you like a book the way your friends can. And she'll more than likely buy the story that you just aren't feeling well without pressing for more details.
"Okay." Gabi frowns but she is moving toward the door. "I will send her in."
Sophia is sitting on the loveseat in her regular clothes when Gabi comes back out, fidgeting with her sleeves and frowning heavily. "Is she okay?" She asks quietly once their consultant has gone back into the changing room. "She had an episode, didn't she?"
"Yeah." Gabi knew that Sophia would have noticed you. But she's happy that the other agent didn't push her way into the dressing room knowing it would have embarrassed you even more. "I gave her a Valium. Maybe we need to make it an early day?" She suggests softly. "Or maybe she'll be better once she's let the medicine kick in."
“She wants to keep going?” Sophia can’t tell if she’s surprised or not, knowing you to be both stubborn and usually fairly in tune with yourself. “No crazy partying tonight. Maybe a room service and a movie? And a museum tomorrow. She loves museums.” The laundry list of things she wanted to see can wait. Her best friend’s well being is far more important than anything else.
"That sounds like the perfect, low key evening that we need." She nods and bites her lip. "What about you, hun?" She reaches out and touches Sophia's arm. "Did you find something that you like or are you needing to have something designed?"
“We made a few tweaks, but the first dress was nearly perfect.” She keeps her voice respectfully low, but clasps Gabi’s hands eagerly. “It’s going to be beautiful, and one of a kind. I just hope our girl in there isn’t so overwhelmed that she doesn’t get to enjoy this appointment. Or this trip.”
"She's a trooper." Gabi smiles, excited for Sophia. "I know she will find the perfect dress." She prays that whatever is going on with you doesn't spoil the experience for you.
A few minutes later you emerge again with red eyes looking tired but forcing yourself to smile - knowing that today is about more than you. You’re just going to have to make sure you read the return and cancellation policy on this dress very carefully in case the worst happens.
"Oh." The dress is stunningly simple and yet it is completely breathtaking. The way it drapes over your form brings the soft folds of the dress and shimmering of the satin. "It's perfect."
“Yeah?” If you’re honest, you barely noticed anything about the dress you put on. It’s comfortable, sure, and simple. But past that? You couldn’t tell what the silhouette was or anything about the details if you tried. Still, you like that they like it. “Gabi picked it.”
"Yeah, love." Sophia stands and walks over towards you with a soft smile and reaches for the package with Jack's family veil in it. "Let's see if it's as perfect with this as I imagine it will be."
It’s nerve racking to see the veil come out now. You’re scared and trying not to show it, like in the back of your mind you know something is wrong and that it might affect Sophia’s relationship as much as your own. Who the fuck knows what will happen if you turn out to be pregnant with Tex’s baby. It will turn your whole world upside down. And hers. And Jack’s. And Tex’s.
Sophia freezes, trying not to immediately demand to know what is wrong. She knows you will deny anything is wrong. Instead, she moves slowly as she takes the veil out and drapes it over your head.
It is beautiful. You can’t deny that even if you have trouble looking yourself in the eye in the mirror. The low cowl neck of the dress makes room for a necklace and the even lower back keeps the focus on the veil, and on any other day you would be gasping right along with Gabi and tearing up for a good reason instead of a stressful one. “It’s…” your hand drifts to the edges of the veil and you try to banish the question mark of what this dress would look like on a pregnant woman. “It’s beautiful.”
Sophia knows that something is wrong. She can tell, but she's cheerful, trying to be your support. "It is beautiful. I know, I know that you shouldn't be pressured and it's all about what you want, but this is the one." She gushes, fluttering the veil around you. "Jack will lose his mind when he sees you in this dress."
“It’s exactly what I said I wanted.” You won’t deny that, even if you’re barely looking at your reflection. Your eyes just keep going back to your engagement rings over and over again. Thinking of Jack and hoping that you haven’t completely ruined your lives with recklessness.
"Do you– do you not like it?" Sophia asks softly. "Because if you don't, Ellie can pull more dresses. We will find something that you love."
“No, I do.” Thinking as quickly on your feet as you can, you force a smile and touch the edges of the veil again. If this is the only time you’re going to get to wear it, you want to at least appreciate its beauty again. “It will need a good necklace. And you two have to tell me if the back is too low.”
Turning you around, Sophia whistles. "That is a sexy back, love. No, you should show it off and this is the perfect dress to do so." She hums and Gabi jumps up to chime in. "Oh it's just lovely. Perfect. What do you think?" She asks you seriously.
“I think it’s right.” If you were thinking with a clear head right now, you would be in happy tears. It really is exactly what you said you wanted in a dress and you do look great in it, but your mind is just too cloudy at the moment to recognize that. “And I think even Louisville is too cold for this dress to be at a winter wedding.”
"Spring or summer?" Gabi asks, not willing to mention that she has clocked you choosing the dress at fifty-two minutes, thirty-five seconds.
“Spring, I guess.” When you finally look up to find your friends smiling at you, you try not to pull in on yourself self-consciously. “Soph and Tex already called dibs on this summer.”
"A spring wedding." Gabi grins conspiratorially. "That will make Jack happy as a pig in sunshine."
“Engaged for a whole year?” Sophia grins, suspicious but trying to cheer you up from whatever is bothering you. Because you are bothered. “You’ll have plenty of time to plan and dream, mate.”
“I think so.” When you nod it’s slow, but definite. “I think this is it.” They like it. Right now that’s the best thing you have to base a decision on, because there’s no way in hell that you can be objective or make the choice with a clear head.
“Great!” Both women cheer, trying to interject as much enthusiasm into the event as possible. They don’t want Ellie to think anything strange, although Sophia knows she has seen plenty of drama.
"Did we remember to keep the time?" You have no intention of letting Jack know what kind of chaos happened here this morning. None whatsoever. So you turn your mind to things that seem normal. Like the bet.
“Under an hour.” Gabi admits with a shrug. “Although if you have your heart set on that engagement trip…” She breaks off teasingly. “I can be bought for the price of a Manhattan in Manhattan.”
"No...he won, fair and square." It would have taken even less time if you hadn't freaked out, and you're not about to lie to him about things that don't matter. There are too many things that do matter at stake.
“I bet if you give him that Soul Snatcher Three Thousand when you get back and ask him for the engagement trip, the man will dance towards Disney wearing the ears.” Sophia waggles her brows suggestively and barks out a laugh a second later.
“We’re going to Montana in fall,” you tell them both quietly and reach to take the veil out of your hair. You’re going to hang on to every bit of normalcy and every promise as hard as you can right now. “That’s sort of going to be the trip, I think. Though…it won’t be silly. It’ll be good for him.”
“Oh….” Sophia had been told the story, the real story in its entirety and she knows that it will be emotional for both of you. “If you need to talk to someone, I’m here for you.”
“It will be good.” Maybe if you tell yourself that enough times, it will be true. You can hope, at least. “His hometown does a big Labour Day festival every year, so we’re going to go for that.”
“That will be fun.” Gabi smiles. “Something fun to look forward to.”
“I’m going to get out of this so I can buy it,” you announce, hoping you sound excited. “Then we can go celebrate?”
“That sounds good.” Ellie ushers you towards the changing room and Sophia turns towards Gabi. “What are you thinking?”
“She won’t look us in the eyes,” Gabi murmurs sadly. “If I wasn’t convinced that that is the most perfect dress for her, I’d be insisting she wait to buy and we all go do something to distract ourselves.”
“She didn’t get a text, no one called.” Sophia looks around the room of mostly women and frowns. “Do you think something reminded her of the kidnapping?”
“I don’t know what else it would be.” Gabi admits with a sigh. “I gave her the Valium, and I’m going to let Astrid know what happened. But other than that? I’m not sure what to do.”
“All we can do is support her.” Sophia frowns, making a note to text Jack if you still are off kilter by dinner time.
“We’ll get her through it.” It’s as much of a promise to Sophia as it is to you without you even being there.
“Yes we will. And if we need to head back tonight, I will have the plane ready.” Sophia won’t put your mental health at risk. She won’t.
******
Your dress purchased and arrangements made for you to be contacted when it comes in so you can be fitted, Sophia and Murad exchange information to work on her custom made dress, then the three of you pile out onto New York’s streets. “Where to now?” Gabi asks, looping her arm through yours. “Anywhere you want to go.” She tells you.
"Sophia made a list." It's less deflecting than it is just angling to not have to think about much of anything - and that includes decision making. But Sophia isn't having it, and she shakes her head as the three of you pile into the waiting Statesman car. "Anywhere you want to go," she insists, keeping hold of your hand in the backseat. They're a stubborn pair when they agree on something, and you look between them with a sigh. "We could go to a museum?" It's your go to. Museums and food tourism. And right now you can't stomach the idea of food.
“Why don’t we do one of the smaller museums?” Sophia offers. “Near the hotel in case we want to go back and rest?” The unspoken part of it suggests that you might want to go back, to not participate and it gives you an out if you need it.
"I know you guys don't want to be dragged around the Frick Collection or some other intense little art museum." It's sweet that they're trying to be kind after what happened in the dress shop, but you really don't want this trip to be about you and you know at least half of Sophia's list. "Why don't we do Madame Toussad's? Selfies with wax people sounds like a silly as hell way to spend the afternoon."
“Yes!” It sounds like just the type of activity to get you out of your head so both women nod eagerly. “Let’s do that and we can decide what to eat afterwards.” Sophia decides.
“Times Square has tons of places. It will be great.” Gabi agrees, wanting things to go smoothly from here on out.
Each woman flanks you, wanting you to feel protected and surrounded by someone familiar. Each one believing that you are reliving the trauma of the last month. “Maybe we will find some inspiration for your menu.” Sophia encourages.
“We should take Soph someplace absurd and touristy. Super American.” You suggest, sitting back between both women as the car makes its way around Central Park. “Like Red Lobster or Margaritaville levels of absurd.” Silly will help, you decide, sitting on your hands so that they don’t move self consciously to your unchanged stomach. Silly is good.
“Ohhhhh we can get wasted in Margaritaville, right?” She grins. “Like that song?”
You’ll definitely be laying off the booze for the rest of the trip for necessary reasons, but you swallow it and add a smile as you nod. “Absolutely, Soph.”
“Great!” There’s practically nothing a little booze and girl time can’t fix, so she is immediately leaning forward to lower the glass to tell the driver to take you all to the Wax Museum.
******
Madame Toussad’s Wax Museum is plenty busy, full of families and groups of friends out for the same silly distraction that the three of you are. The staged dummies and their scenery providing just enough distraction to have you breathing normally and even laughing a little with your friends.
“This place is wonderful.” Sophia gushes. “Creepy, but wonderful.” She looks around at all the wax figurines. “We should do waxes of the agents.” She laughs.
“Tex would hide his all around the house to scare you.” Gabi snorts, thinking of how much fun the agent has been known to have, acting like an oversized child in some of his time off.
“God he would.” Sophia laughs, shaking her head. “Until I decapitated it and then he would pout.”
“You can’t cut off that beautiful face.” Gabi laughs, posing next to the model of actor Channing Tatum just like he’s Tex. They’re about the same size, so it works. “He’d be such a sad boy.”
“Tex’s ears are a little bigger but I swear they are brothers.” She huffs, stepping closer to examine the figurine of the man who looks just like her fiancé. “All that ridin’ I’ve been doing. Gotta hold onto somethin’.” She drawls, imitating a southern accent.
“Save a horse, ride a cowboy,” Gabi giggles, swinging her hips in an impromptu dance move that makes all three of you laugh. It is, after all, the unofficial Statesman motto.
“Speaking of…” Sophia smirks. “There’s been a lack of complaints around your house early in the mornings the last few days. Have you just decided to wear Jack out at night or did you turn the safe room into your sex room?” She waggles her brows outrageously.
“The restaurant starting up has changed our schedule a little.” You excuse, suddenly hyper focused on a speck of dirt on your hand. “And I’ve been a lot more tired.”
“I’m sure you are.” Sophia nods, reaching out and patting your hand. “Let me know if there’s something I can do. I did work my grandpa’s pub back across the pond.”
“Thanks.” Everyone here knows you’ll never ask. Not only do you have a great staff but you’re stubborn as hell. Still, it’s nice that she offered. “I just want everything to be perfect.”
“Everything is perfect. Have you not read the reviews?” Countless food critics for the area have already been out to try the newest addition to Statesman and each one of them have come away giving rave reviews.
“Then being tired is worth it.” You decide, flashing them both that smile that feels a little more authentic with that encouragement.
“Ohhhh look! There’s Nic Cage!” Gabi squeals, darting over to the next display. “This is– is it a wax figure or does he come and pose everyday?” She giggles, poking the figure’s waxy face.
“It’s his Dorian Gray statue instead of a portrait,” Sophia laughs, dragging you with her to the next display. “If you move the clothes you’d see horrible disfiguration.”
You jump from exhibit to exhibit, Gabi and Sophia making sure that there isn’t a lull in the conversation or jokes being tossed out. Wanting to make sure you don’t have time to think about being upset. By the time you’re through the Creepy But Fun (as you all agreed upon) museum full of uncanny wax people, you’ve calmed down a little. But only in so much as the panic has turned into a slowly simmering dread in your belly.
“Where to now?” Sophia asks, grinning at your obviously more cheered spirits and links her arm with yours. “I’m famished.”
"Do you still want to go to Margaritaville for dinner?" The thought of alcohol makes you queasy but you can just have a virgin one and soldier on. The point is for Sophia to have fun.
“Unless you have some little hidden gem that we have to try?” Sophia asks with a grin. “Have you been holding out on us?”
"There's always..." You bite your lip and shrug a little, deciding that it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world to have a little fun. There's been a plan slowly forming in the back of your head all afternoon and it will take care of everything. Or at least...it's the best idea you have for not ruining the lives of everyone you love. "There's two places. In Chelsea...both are great but one of them is inside the theater for this crazy play, so you kind of have to do both to get the whole experience."
“Tell me more.” Sophia cocks her head curiously, intrigued by the sound of it.
“The play has a restaurant and a bar in it and instead of sitting down to watch you get up and run around and follow the actors everywhere. And the audience all wears masks, and you can’t talk, and then after you find your friends in the bar and talk about what you saw.” It’s something you’ve done with your siblings a few times and always loved it. No two experiences are ever the same, but it’s exhausting. “If you want a quieter night, we can go to the Argentinian restaurant across the street. The wine list is killer and if we name drop my brother they might make us something special.”
“The play thing sounds fun.” Sophia admits with a grin. “It’s not something I have done before. How about you?” She turns to ask Gabi.
"I don't think I've been to a play outside of Louisville since Astrid was stationed here." It had been very early in her time with Statesman, but back then they had loved to go to Broadway. "I'm in for a weird play where you run around."
“Then it’s decided.” Sophia would sing karaoke in a shoebox if it meant you would be happy, so the smile on your face as you agree means the world to her.
"Let's see if we can actually get three tickets." You pull out your phone as you walk through Times Square between them, headed to your hotel just a block away. "We can have the driver take us, which is a miracle because walking there sucks." The times you had gone with your siblings, you had done the combination of subway travel and walking which was less than fun. Sophia has one arm through yours to make sure you stay on the sidewalk while your face is in your phone and you make a small noise of surprise when there are actually tickets available for tonight. "Looks like we're doing it. I recommend lightweight clothes and your comfiest shoes. We're going to be running all night."
“We have time to go back to the hotel?” Sophia asks. “Or are we running into Target and buying what we need?”
“We have plenty of time.” The hotel is just around the corner and the three of you pop straight into the elevator easily. “It’s not really traditional, but it is based in Shakespeare. But it’s dancing. A lot of dancing.”
“I always like dancing.” Sophia’s eyes widen suddenly. “Ooooooh!” She squeals, “can we go to the Coyote Ugly bar?”
“Tomorrow night,” you promise, laughing when she looks as excited about that as she did about shopping for her wedding dress.
“Always wanted to go there since seeing that movie.” She confesses with a grin.
“We can make that happen.” Gabi chuckles on your other side. She opens the door to your suite with her key and ushers you all inside. “But if you get up and start dancing on the furniture, I’m taking video.”
“Oh absolutely.” She had already anticipated that. “And send it to Tex, hm? Make him regret telling me that I wouldn’t have fun.”
“That boy honestly thought there was any kind of scenario you wouldn’t make fun?” The dismissive sound Gabi makes as she digs into her suitcase for suitable clothing for the night is accompanied by a sigh. “He really is a clown.”
“A rodeo clown.” Sophia had giggled over the few photos Tex had shown her. It had been something fun to tease him about when he was wearing dapper suits that he didn’t find comfortable at all.
"From rodeo clown to super spy." You shake your head as you dig through your suitcase for comfortable clothes to wear tonight. Everything that you had packed was reasonably stylish, but at least you had thought to tuck your good sneakers in the bottom of your case so that you could keep up with all the adventuring Sophia wanted to do.
“So I’m going to wear leggings and a cute t-shirt.” Sophia offers, tossing out her clothes haphazardly. “That sound okay?”
"That works. I've got a pair of jeans and..." The shirt in your hand when you lift it out of your suitcase makes you swallow back an emotional reaction. "Jack packed me his Creedence Clearwater Revival t-shirt..." It's such a small gesture but it has you breathing shakily as you inhale the scent of his cologne from the stretched and worn cotton. "I–I'm going to sleep in that, I think," you murmur almost to yourself, replacing it in the suitcase and pulling out the Louisville Slugger t-shirt that you had bought at the factory tour. If Sophia noticed the expression of almost heartbreak, she doesn’t mention it. Wondering if you are just in your feelings because of where you and Jack were when you were last in New York.
“I’ll call the restaurant to see if they have a reservation left. If not, we’ll go to the place across the street.” You can’t possibly excuse yourself fast enough, heading into the suite’s bedroom to change clothes quickly and make the call. There’s someone else that you definitely need to talk to - but that will be face-to-face.
“She seems better.” Gabi immediately moves towards Sophia and frowns at the closed door. “Don’t you think?”
“Looked like she saw a ghost when she found Jack’s shirt, though. Didn’t she?” Sophia chews on her lower lip. “Hopefully this play thing will take her mind off whatever it is that’s got her so fuckin’ upset.” She wishes you would just talk to them, but there are glimpses of you feeling better that have her hopeful.
“That Southern accent is coming along nicely.” Gabi teases playfully. Sophia had said she was going to work on making her English accent less noticeable much to Tex’s disappointment.
“I put in for a transfer,” she admits with a sly grin. “Champ just has to have the board sign off on it.”
“Really!” Gabi squeals happily, knowing that Tex will be happy about that. “Becoming a certified Statesman agent?”
“I don’t want to take the chance that they’ll transfer me after we’re married.” She reasons, knowing that anything is possible when their jobs and lives can be so unpredictable. “At the end of the day, I always want to be able to come home to him.”
“I can understand that.” Gabi offers quietly. “Your jobs are very unpredictable. You spend time where you can.”
“I don’t want to miss anything.” It’s less of a concern for you and Gabi because of your lifestyles, but for Sophia and Tex? It’s a very real concern.
“You won’t.” Gabi reaches for a quick hug. “Champ is very good about balancing work and home. He won’t let you two stay apart for long, even on a mission.”
"We have Diana to thank for that." If not for his soulmate and his son, Champ would be just as much of a workaholic as most American men of his age. Thankfully, having loved ones to come home to had softened his opinion of home life completely and Diana had taught him balance.
“I just hope that we are all happy as larks.” Sophia hums, the soft smile on her face reserved for when she is thinking about her fiancé.
"We will be." Gabi has made sure she is, and she knows that Sophia and Tex already are. It seems though, unfortunately, that there are still bumps in your road. If not with Jack, then just personal ones.
"Dinner reservations are in thirty-five minutes," you announce when you come out of the bathroom in your casual clothes to dig out your sneakers. "I pulled up the menu on my phone so we can look at it in the car."
“If you enjoy it; we know we are going to eat well.” Sophia shrugs off the idea of looking at the menu. Your tastes are exquisite and you wouldn’t bring them somewhere you didn’t enjoy.
"And drink well." The sneakers you packed are favourites, lovingly broken in and tatty with affection, but strong enough to stand their ground against a few days running around the city. You pull them on and stick a double knot in the laces for good measure. "Everything at this place is good, but the cocktails are on a whole other level."
“Ohhh then we are having some drinks!” Sophia declares, although she won’t drink too much. Maybe one or two cocktails. She wants to be mostly sober in case you have another issue. She doesn’t want you to feel like you have to deal with it alone.
"Everybody finished getting changed so we can get across the city!" Gabi urges, moving around the room with purpose now that she sees you starting to perk up again and Sophia getting excited.
"I'll be ready to go in a second," you promise, moving your essentials from the large purse you had been carrying today to the zipped pockets of your worn jeans. No purse at this place is better - and in no time the three of you are back on the elevator, headed down to the street to have the driver take you to the theatre house.
Your stomach is still in knots as the driver brings you through the crowded streets of the city, and you look out the window while Sophia and Gabi gush about something that you weren't paying attention to in the first place. The idea that you could be pregnant has consumed you almost entirely since it entered your mind this morning and while it's eating at you, at least you have a plan now. One that you can't say you're particularly proud of - but you would rather bare a private shame than destroy the lives of the people you've come to love so much.
Back in Kentucky, Jack frowns at his phone. Since going into the consultation, it’s been nothing but radio silence. He knows you are safe, he can clearly see the ping of your location along with Gabi’s, Sophia’s, and the driver’s. It was a friend of Rye’s that owed him a favor. He sighs softly, wishing you had at least teased him with how much he was going to love your dress, but he’s more worried. You’ve been….off. And you being in New York has him on edge. Shaking off his regrets, he opens your messages and types out one to you: Hey sugar, I know you and the girls are partying it up, but I wanted to check in with you. I hope you are having fun. The restaurant is in good hands but this house surely is a lot more lonely without you curled up with me on the couch. I love you.
The vibration of your phone is unexpected, stirring you out of your thoughts and pulling your lips into a conflicted half-frown when you see Jack's name pop up on your screen. Being afraid of hurting him had made you entirely shut down from even texting him. Hell, if it had occurred to you at home in Louisville, you probably would have shut off from your friends instead. But they're here with you in the car and Jack is at home, so he had gotten the blunt end of your fear instead. You swallow a sigh as you open the text, nearly in tears as you read it through twice before replying: We're taking lots of pictures, so I can show you some when we get home. We're heading to the theater so my phone will be off for a few hours. I love you.
Love.
You love that man more than anything in the world. And that's why you're heading straight to see Astrid in her lab the second you're back on Statesman ground.
______
Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @hardc0rehaylz @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle
DtRH: @haileymorelikestupid @spishsstuff @missmarmaladeth @axshadows @a-gay-cryptid @sgt-morgan @1a-ma1a-su3rt3 @flowers4copper @ghost-timelord @the0racl30fd3lphidos @all-the-way-down-here @bobafvcker @ficsbynight @dinoflower @supernaturalgirl20 @xdaddysprincessxx @bobawh0re @amiee-mitch18 @darkhairedmenrule @heyyimlaynna @strawberry-f4iry @3zm33atzbuss33 @whataghost @cyber666slut @nobody-000 @eddiemunsonsgirlfriendirl @lucciolaraven @powergirlsupremacy @secondsistershelby @dreadmars @androgynoushellscape @soytomatecherry @cheesecake-massacre @mylifeisbasedonashow @idiotickiddo @tomfeltonisbae @maratheidiot22 @im-nada @everybirdfellsilent @deepdarkdelights @brokenwhitegirl384 @ur-honey-child @caseket @copperrose15 @we-could-have-been @valkyries-ride @scarletmunson @strawberriricemilk @ghost-timelord @galactigoos @floridawaters @cutiepie6473 @pinball-vance @theslytherinwriter @scorpioswonder @stankyleg05 @fxdsketches @sad-innit @coffeyorky @1a-ma1a-su3rt3 @starlordsonlywife @aura626 @mistresskei @marv3lwhor3 @sadimusprimee @yourwonderbelle @sgt-morgan @spot116 @milybaby018 @loserk1nks @artfulthoughtswp @aavw @babyrunsforfanfic @faceache111 @midnight-huntress @asimpleraccoonqueen @marki-moo0 @pages89 @rawr-bitches @rebel-fanfare @soooosha @luna-is-out-there @im-sylien @timpletance @certifiedhunter @ellenmunn @littlethief78 @tinalbion @eddy-y @tikibabi @whyidkok @bearcoon1666 @littlebirdsbookshelf @a-gay-cryptid @disaster-ahaha @viridiesa @axshadows @purplerain04 @karmarouge @holycyclehomo @sainteredhood @prostitute-robot-from-the-future @the-wishmonger @theliferuiner @raptorclaw24 @asp1r1ngm1lf @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @st4rl1ght444 @litholithium @tusk89 @youjustneedatherapist @nekodemon73 @iceclaw101 @lightningsface @shakespeareanwannabe @jasminemunson @spideysimpossiblegirl @wannabedaphne @sammus-white @jazzieomega @88dragon06 @ishabull @raquel-rial @tuquoquebrute @hotleaf-juice @dantaku @youokhoney @thisiswhyibleedsstuff @maximumkryptonitegladiator @jediknight122 @gadsgikklesen @movievillainess721 @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @the-strawberrythief @spishsstuff @choppedmugjudgeplaid @haileymorelikestupid @gooddaykate @missredherring @abyssal-zone-stares-back @supernaturalgirl @winterandstars @severewobblerlightdragon @missmarmaladeth @noisynaia @saintbedelia @algressman16 @eaks0710 @mina2000alex @emdraws02 @universallyclodlawyerpainter @rayrayvan @akaleelanie @mishasminion360 @amneris21 @roxypeanut @lunarcatbun 118 @frasmotic @emdraws02 @universallyclodlawyerpainter @rayrayvan @lovelychaos420 @1432690 @no1pornstachefan @thegrimreaperbitch @esmeensheep @izz-ayes-world @kittycatcait219 @loveyou3000tonystark @tintinn16 @igenerallytrynottogiveagoshdarn @motheroftorches @phoenixhalliwell @the-dazzling-urbanite @coffeyorky @trickstersp8 @victorian-cherub @julissadunn @clarysthing @the-girl-that-loves-many-fandoms @mastersurf @theghostofutopia @ncsls0515 @seraphinaivy @hiyorinatsuki @ghostofaboy @yn-hamato @elfwriter1088 @sunnygrey99 @lexinicolenix @lazyemisfandomtrash @curiouskeyboard @qualityearthquakes @spider-284748 @unnecesarysstuff @sgt-morgan @love-affair-with-fandoms @lunarcatbun @kstar770 @kykymarty @supergingerlocks @hell0kittybimb0222 @a-birds-fin @loidforgerishotashell @mythical-writer @ghostshalo @avengersimaginesfan @sccialcasualty @lordecult @petalo-dropsart @i-quite-like-eating-carrots @svudetective @hasta-la-pasta-bb @manicpixiedreamgirly @destinydog @skeppycarnation @anaisweird @critters-beware @fruityforcocoapuffs @linnnniie @spideyromantic @paupeach2024 @faithxyu @fxramir @legomyeggo @jjggdfvvy @hi-my-name-is-riley @kasaikawa @lost-ghost-thats-sleepy @callmegkiddo @2dead2function @generallysleepdeprived @failingclassesinmygucciglasses @thebeesknees42 @moonmoon007 @wi0na @cilliansangel @lostinsideourminds @angstismydrug @elvenmother @bilibiche @kettlekatie @preschoolispunk @djarinsstuff @generallysleepdeprived @love-affair-with-fandoms @jay-ghostly @wowieitbeme @fanofverymanythings @josephquinnswhore @this-harl0t-shant-be-unalive @djarinsstuff @justherebecausesafarisucks @cedricbitch @rebel-soldat @madisonred88
My Masterlist!
#Pedro Pascal#Pedro Pascal character fanfic#Pedro Pascal fanfiction#Jack Daniels#Jack Whiskey Daniels#Jack Daniels x reader#Jack Daniels x you#Jack Daniels x female reader#Agent Whiskey#Kingsman Golden Circle#soulmate au#Agent Tequila#Agent Tequila x OC#Agent Tequila x female OC#fear of pregnancy#missed period
193 notes
·
View notes
Text
NaNoWriMo Day #8
[masterlist] [part two]
Prompt found here
=============‹«⟨←·•·→⟩»›=============
It was summer break, and Danny was lost in the Infinite Realms. He wasn't too worried, now that he'd officially been crowned the High King, his subjects had mostly stopped attacking Amity Park, and he was eager to finally get some exploring done now that he could take a break. Jazz, Sam, and Tucker knew Danny was, his parents thought he was spending the week at Tucker's, and he had Clockwork's promise that Danny would make it home by the end of the week no matter how long he was stuck in the Realms, so he was golden. The only thing he'd forgotten was the map of the Infinite Realms that would tell him where he was and how to get back home, but he'd been working with Wulf on making his own portals, so if he really needed to, he had a way out.
But that was just in case, for now, he was just having fun being lost. There were so many things to see and places to explore! Like where he was exploring currently, it was this old gothic theatre with surrounding alleys, there were hidey-holes and hidden storage rooms, and there was an old fashioned elevator floor, this place had everything!
"Martha, there seems to be someone here," a man's voice came from around the corner ahead of him. Danny froze, not sure what to do. W-was this someone's haunt?! It didn't look occupied when he first found it!
"Oh, the poor dear! I thought Bruce had put an end to theatre shootings, though?" A woman, likely Martha, responded. She sounded genuinely worried and confused as to why he was there, and that... That gave Danny pause. Because that wasn't the normal reaction of a ghost whose haunt had been intruded upon.
The man sighed. "Martha, dear, you know he prefers to go by Batman when wearing the cowl. I've told you before, we should respect our son's wishes."
Their son is Batman?! Does that mean Batman's a ghost?
"I know, I know, but Thomas, that's not the important part! There's someone in the theatre when there shouldn't be! What if they're hurt, or lost, or confused? We need to help them!" Martha exclaimed.
Danny took an unneeded breath and floated forward, a sheepish grin on his face. "Uh, hi there," he said, giving a small wave. In front of him were two gothically dressed ghosts, one male and the other female. The woman, Martha, was wearing a dark green and black striped ball gown, a line of golden buttons decorating the front of the bodice. Thomas, her partner, was wearing a matching green overcoat with black trim, and a matching pair of black dress pants and dress shirt, with a classy top hat, golden buttons, and cufflinks to finish the look. They both had black hair and glowing blue eyes, and both had a small golden bat pinned to their chest above their hearts. They both seemed surprised to see him, maybe they expected him to be hiding somewhere deeper in the theatre?
Martha seemed to come to her senses before Thomas, and was soon hovering right in front of him, pale fingers ghosting over his face and arms with a concerned look on her face. "Oh, you're just a child! You poor dear, you must be so confused! Where are you from, if you don't mind me asking? You certainly don't feel like one of ours, were you visiting Gotham when you died?"
Danny leaned back slightly, flustered and unsure what she was talking about. "I, uh, I've never been to Gotham? I was born and raised in Amity Park? I-I technically died there, too, but that's a bit of a story. Um, what exactly do you mean, I don't feel like one of yours?"
Turned out, if someone highly influential to a city or town died in either a highly traumatic or a sufficiently influential way, they became the spirit of that city or town. Thomas and Martha Wayne were highly respected and looked up to by all of Gotham before they were murdered, and while their deaths weren't exactly traumatic enough at the time for them to have become the spirits of Gotham, they did inspire their son, well known billionaire Bruce Wayne, to become the vigilante and Justice League founder Batman. Once Batman became well known across Gotham, the couple were elevated in status and the previous spirit of Gotham was relieved of their duties. A brief tangent revealed that the spirit of a city or a town had different duties depending on what their city or town needed. For Gotham, and more specifically Thomas and Martha, it was being a beacon of hope and change as well as helping their family's fight to better the city and minimize crime.
"So," Danny said slowly. "Because I'm the protector of Amity Park, does that make me Amity's spirit?"
Thomas shook his head. "It doesn't quite work like that, son. Not every town or every city has a spirit, and a city or town spirit can't be less than fully dead, unlike other powerful positions, such as the High King."
"Not to mention," Martha spoke up, "that as the High King, you can't hold any other ghostly position of power, or else the balance would destabilize, sending all of reality into chaos. As such, the oaths of the High King include the renouncing of any and all former ghostly appointments that might interfere with the balance. It's part of why the Observants never tried taking the throne from Pariah Dark, to be honest."
Danny sat there, thinking over everything he'd just learned. Honestly, he'd learned more about his kingdom, subjects, and the culture that goes with it in one conversation than he had in the entire time he'd been a halfa. "There's so much I don't know, isn't there?" Danny asked after a moment.
Thomas and Martha smiled comfortingly. "Don't worry," Thomas said as he put an arm around Danny's shoulder. "You have time to learn it all, though some of this you really should have learned before making your oaths. I'd like to have words with your guardian, they appear to have been slacking in their duties."
Danny's mind blanked. Guardian? Surely, not his parents. Though. This seemed to be another ghostly thing, so probably—"Clockwork? Or... Maybe Pandora, or Frostbite? I'm... Not actually sure who my guardian is, are they supposed to let me know they're my guardian? Also, how does that work, how does someone become the guardian of a younger ghost?"
"You don't know your own guardian?" Martha cried in disbelief.
"Danny, may I take a look at your core? I feel we'll get more answers that way, but I wouldn't want to impose," Thomas asked gently.
"Why would that be an imposition?" Danny asked.
Martha gently took his hand in hers. "A ghost's core makes up everything that is them, their likes, their dislikes, their personality, their obsession, even their bonds. To let someone look at your core is to trust them with your very soul. Never let someone look at your core unless you trust them with everything you hold dear, alright?"
Shocked, Danny nodded. There was a lot he didn't know. "O-okay, um, yeah, you can look at it, Thomas," he breathed shakily. "I trust you."
Danny did not have a guardian. He had fright-mates in the form of his liminal sister and friends, but he didn't have a guardian or really any other bonds. Thomas raged and Martha cried and the both of them begged him to choose someone to be his guardian. He was a baby ghost, halfa or not, and his core needed the support of a guardian in order to not overwork itself trying to protect him, and end up hurting him instead, potentially permanently. They cautioned him that, with how powerful he already was, his guardian would have to be quite powerful, themselves, like an ancient or a tribe leader. When Danny asked if a city spirit or two would work, they both hugged him so tightly and so warmly that he melted into the embrace, frozen tears falling from his eyes.
"So, does this make me Batman's little brother?" Danny asked with a sniffle sometime later, after the couple agreed to be Danny's guardians.
Martha gasped and put a hand to her mouth, looking to Thomas with mirth in her eyes. "Bruce always wanted a sibling, growing up," she agreed with a laugh.
Thomas smiled at both of them. "Danny even looks the part when he's human!"
=============‹«⟨←·•·→⟩»›=============
Two weeks after Danny's ghostly adoption saw Danny giggling to himself as he walked up the front steps of Wayne Manor with his backpack hanging from his shoulder. He knocked politely and waited for Alfred, the butler and his brother's father figure, to answer. When he did, he took one look at Danny and smirked. "They're in the family media room, master Danny. Would you like some tea?"
Danny grinned and nodded. "You're the man, Alfred. They suspect anything?"
"Not a thing, master Danny. I shall be recording everything via the security cameras, just as the master and madam requested. Nothing will be missed. I'll bring the tea in when things have calmed down," Alfred said as he started walking back to the kitchen.
He suppressed a maniacal laugh. This was going to be awesome.
=============‹«⟨←·•·→⟩»›=============
MWAHAHA!!! I SUCCESSFULLY MANAGED TO WORK IN A WAY OF ADDING ONTO THIS FICLET WITH AN ALREADY EXISTING PROMPT!ヽ(`Д´)ﾉ Now. If someone could find me the post about the spirits of cities, specifically Gotham, that'd be great. I know there IS one, cuz that's what spawned the fic "A Change in Management" over on AO3 (I'll provide a link and proper citing later), I just can't find it (^～^;)ゞ
I'm really happy I managed to finish this, because holy heck, my day was just... Really crazy (；^ω^）but it was worth it for y'all (◠‿・)—☆
Have a good morning/day/night!
#danny phantom#batman#dc x dp#dp x dc#dp crossover#fanfic#dp au#fanfiction#nanowrimo 2022#NaNoWriMo Day 8#lol Danny got adopted by a Wayne#it's just not who you'd expect!#thomas wayne#martha wayne#they're the spirits of Gotham now. you can't tell me otherwise#if i find/track down/get tagged in the Tumblr post i mentioned#I'll write a sequel for this later this month#it will happen eventually#but it'll happen sooner if I'm not the one tracking the post down
428 notes
·
View notes
Text
when noah kahan said "if the sun don't rise till the summertime, forgive my northern attitude. oh, i was raised on little light" and when he said "i thought that if i piled something good on all my bad that i could cancel out the darkness i inherited from dad" and when he said "my house was designed to kinda look like it's crying. the eyes are the windows, the garage is the mouth. so when they mention the sad kid in the sad house on balch street, you won't have to guess who they're speaking about" and when he said "i was taking the wrong meds, feels good to be sad" and when he said "my mouth was designed for my foot to fit in it" and when he said "someday i’m gonna be somebody people want" and when he said "no thing so sure that i can't learn to doubt it" and when he said "i divvied up my anger into thirty separate parts, keep the bad shit in my liver and the rest around my heart. i'm still angry at my parents for what their parents did to them, but it's a start" and when he said "at the end of the day, i know there are worse ways to stay alive" and when he said "i'm terrified that i might never have met me" and when he said "i forgot my medication, fell into a manic high. spent my savings at a lulu, now i'm suffering in style. why is pain so damn impatient? ain't like it's got a place to be. keeps rushing me" and when he said "if all my life was wasted, i don't mind, i'll watch it go. yeah, it's better to die numb than feel it all" and when he said "i drink till i drown and i smoke till i'm burning" and when he said "collect every dream in these old empty pockets, in hope that i'll need them someday"
and when he said "it's an ode to the hole that i found myself stuck in, a song for the grave that i dug" and when he said "i only tell the truth when i'm sure that i'm lying" and when he said "i would leave if only i could find a reason. i'm mean because i grew up in new england. i got dreams but i can't make myself believe them. spend the rest of my life with what could have been, and i will die in the house that i grew up in. i'm homesick" and when he said "it only falls into place when you're falling to pieces" and when he said "the whole place is quiet. you miss something that you can't place but you can't deny it. don't know whether you want a place in the coast or the country. you can't stay here, it's hard to face and it feels too ugly. you light a fire inside, let it burn" and when he said "with a past box of photos i rip myself open" and when he said "feel the rush of my blood, i'm seventeen again. i am not scared of death, i've got dreams again" and when he said "a minute from home, but i feel so far from it. the death of my dog, the stretch of my skin. it's all washing over me, i'm angry again. the things that i lost here, the people i knew, they got me surrounded for a mile or two" and when he said "my medicine is drowning your perspective out, so i ain't taking any fault" and when he said "i ain't proud of all the punches that i've thrown in the name of someone i no longer know. for the shame of being young, drunk and alone"
and when he said "'son, are you a danger to yourself?' well, fuck that, sir, just let me call. i'll give you my blood alcohol, i'll rot with all the burnouts in the cell. i'll change my faith, i'll kiss the badge. just wait, i swear she'll call me back. 'son, why do you do this to yourself?'" and when he said "i'll turn up the music and i'll forget until it ends that i'm not ready to let go yet" and when he said "i'm in my car and i see the yard, the patch of grass where we buried the dog. and the world makes sense behind a chain-link fence. if i could leave, i would've already left" and when he said "i thought i had something, and that's the same as having something. i get mad at nothing, blame my dad for something. i pull no punches, then feel bad for months. thought i was raised better. tried to fake better, tried to blame weather and escape better. hope the skin heals where the pain enters" and when he said "i saw the end, it looks just like the middle. got a paper and pen and a page with no space. i filled the hole in my head with prescription medication, then forgot how to cry. who am i to complain? and now the pain's different. it still exists, it just escapes different and evades vision. makes the rain different, makes the news boring and my rage distant. yes, i'm young and living dreams, in love with being noticed and afraid of being seen. but i can finally eat and i can fall asleep. it's fine, fine, fine" and when he said "medicate, meditate, swear your soul to jesus. throw a punch, fall in love, give yourself a reason" and when he said "we spent so long just getting by. that's the thing about survival. who the hell, who the hell likes living just to die?"
#noah kahan#you think this is long?#listen. i made one of these with ALL my favorite lyrics and it was at least three times as long as this#and i was like i absolutely cannot post that because skdfdfsk wow#so i picked just a few that speak to me in a very specific way and to establish a ✨ theme ✨#text#long post
126 notes
·
View notes
Text
A Poisonous Truth (Part Two)
Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Female Reader x Ellaria Sand
Length: 23.5k
Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, smut, oral (f recieving), p in v, m/f/f, graphic descriptions of violence, mentions of past assault/rape, canon character death, canon divergence, sex work/prostitution
Note: Follows more book canon than it does show canon, if you can spot every reference or easter egg you get a free smooch, final part to A Poisonous Truth (Part One)
Quiet and calm are not the right words to use when describing the capitol. King’s Landing is a city filled with life and noise at every corner. From the slums of flea bottom to the shining Red Keep there was hardly a moment one could have to themselves. Yet somehow, the noise had slowly started to disappear. From horrified whispers of a murdered King, it slowed and simmered down to a quick shush as a trial for the accused approached.
The intrigue of the young Joffery falling where he stood from a poison snuck into his drink sent talk all over the streets, giving the poor and curious something to solve, soon gave way to an almost quiet fascination as the accused was named.
Tyrion Lannister, a man known just as much for his mind and prowess, as he was known for the anger and humiliation thrown onto him from his own family. Locked away in the cells as his own family conjured up ways to outwit him, if not in evidence, than simply in numbers against him. The more who spoke against him, the harder it was for the truth to be heard. The truth though, wasn’t what the presiding judge was looking for. The truth was never the goal Tywin Lannister was working towards.
In that strange silence, you found yourself looking behind you once too often. You couldn’t be sure if it was the feeling of being watched, or if it was just your own growing paranoia of being found out. Eyes could be on you everywhere, and it was only a matter of time until someone made the plunge to act on it. Whatever Lord Baelish had planned for you seemed to not matter anymore, or at least not from what you could tell. He leaves the city right after the murder of the king, and soon after that Sansa Stark also disappears? How these events connected you weren’t sure, but you had a feeling you were being kept here until it was time for you to be put to use, rather than just abandoned in the city to fend for yourself.
You weren’t though, not yet at least. Oberyn Martell and his paramour Ellaria Sand served as the only things keeping you grounded, two people who cared about your own well being for the time they spent there. Somehow they carved a way into your heart, filling you with a comforting warmth you’d hardly ever known, but carving that hole means that when they leave, you will be left open and wounded. You wanted to separate your anxieties from your feelings about them, but it hung in the air whenever you were alone. More than one morning you spent alone in the streets before most other people woke up, hoping you could get it all out before returning to the couple and just enjoying your time with them.
If both of them noticed it, Oberyn seemed to be the one it bothered the most. Already up before you this morning, he watched you from his perch near a small table, guiding you over before getting the chance to get ready for the day. He was tempting, his dark brown eyes shone so bright as took you in, not greedily, but almost akin to admiring. Placing your hands on the back of a chair, you raised your eyebrows at him, “I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you up so early, if you don’t mind me saying.”
He smiled as he tugs the chair close to his own, watching you move around to join him. “Maybe I wouldn’t be awake so early, if I weren’t busy watching you sneak out every morning before the suns even up.” Casually tossing a berry into his mouth, not an accusation, but something he wanted an explanation for. “The past few mornings, you sneak out thinking no one’s noticed with that solemn, unnerved look on your face.”
Your face falls, eyes closing shut as you take a deep breathe, some of the tension leaving with your exhale. “It’s hard to shake. This...feeling that people are watching me, not knowing who knows or doesn’t and what they want to do with that information. It’s scary.”
Oberyn leans in just slightly, your bodies close enough that his gentle almost whisper can be felt on your skin. “Which part scares you, being watched or not knowing what they want?” Your head shakes. Really, it’s neither.
What’s scary is the after, after someone finds a use for you. How much worse will it be? “What scares me is not knowing which fate is worse. What will happen to me when Baelish, Tywin, one of the people here decides I’m useful to them, or if nothing could be worse than what I’ve already ran from.”
Oberyn’s large hand cups the side of your face, as your own hand flies up to cover his with no hesitation. You could feel the slight stroke of his thumb against your skin, so you moved to lean into his hand more, your hold going from covering his, to gently gripping his wrist, willing him to not go anywhere. “I don’t- how much do you actually know about me? From...before..”
There was a flash of concern, almost bordering on anger in his eyes, before the itensity was blinked away. “I know they mistreated you. Beat you.” Your own eyes widen in surprise, “at least I know your brother did. It’s rare though, for a boy to be that cruel without learning it from his father. I also know that most people described you as quiet but seemed frightened of something. Fair to assume those things are in the same.”
Your grip slipped down onto the table with a thud, Oberyn though only slinked his hand back to rake it through your hair gently. “How could you have known that? No one knows tha-”
His interruption was the same feeling as being thrown into a vat of ice cold water. A chill ran down your spine and buzzed all the way into your fingertips. “The same way I recognized you just weeks ago. I’ve seen you before. Years ago though, you were visiting Dorne,”
Eyes flickering back and forth as you scoured your mind for his image, but nothing came up. You surely would have remembered meeting the man known as The Red Viper during your teenage years. “But, I never saw- you weren’t,”
A soft, almost sad smile formed on his face, as he moved his hand away from you to gather a small bundle of berries onto a plate and sliding it over to you. “I don’t expect you would have. It was your last day, your people getting ready to make the journey home. I’ve always made a point to visit my brother often. Coming to Sunspear is difficult for him now, so I arrived at the Water Gardens just in time to see you.” His gaze turning downward, brows furrowed as the gentle features of his face tightened and clenched. “You were with your brother. Right in your face he was practically spitting on you. You barley saying a word as he tugged your coat right off your shoulders,”
Finally he found your eyes again, face contorted into barley masked anger but his eyes swam with a sadness. “You were covered in bruises. My nephews even commented how warmly you were dressed the entire time, but that was why. Your chest, up and down your arms were marks and bruises. I would have stepped in, but your Uncle showed up and all but threw him out into the courtyard. Doran told me he suspiciously kept you by his side, but the way you clung to him when he showed up?” Oberyns hand picked up the one still flat on the table, flipping it up so his fingers could trace the lines in your palm. “He purposely kept you around him so the others in your family couldn’t hurt you.”
Tears built up in your eyes, threatening to fall at any moment, so Oberyn joined his other hand to keep yours engulfed in his large warm ones, holding just as tight as his gaze on your eyes was. It had almost been long enough that you forgot. The North was cold, it let you hide every mark on you without any question, but that visit to Dorne was warm. The sun beaming onto you in a way that you never got to experience, it upset you that you had to continue wearing the same heavy long clothing just to cover for the actions of your family. Of your father and brother mostly. For the most part, your mother ignored you. Allowing the men of the house to punish you for crimes unknown. “That’s why you knew who I was?”
Oberyn nodded, his chin raising as squinting eyes watch behind you, no doubt looking at the awakening Ellaria, as the sounds of shuffling sheets filled the silence in between. “You were young then, but not much has changed.”
Patter of feet preceded arms slinking across your chest, long black curls falling into your vision. “Not quite the same I imagine, now you are older, much more beautiful.” Her lips giving a teasing bite to your ear before finding her own seat, Oberyn sneaking a kiss as she passed him by. “He mentioned you,” head nodded to the side, “him and Doran, after word of your passing floated down. You two talked for quite a while afterwards, didn’t you?”
He nodded in agreement. “Doran was suspicious, they said you simply fell ill and passed quickly but,” taking a breathe, and exhaling the remaining hostile memories, “You don’t see a girl with bruises like that and expect us to accept that you died naturally. We both knew you had either somehow run, or we were being lied to about how it happened. Seeing you that day, I was relieved to find out it was the former.”
Steel eyes sat harsh on a spot of nothing in front of you, memories replaying in your mind as you could feel the blood boil in your body. “Not for a lack of trying.”
You knew Oberyn wanted more, but it was too early. You couldn’t handle this right now. Ellaria might try to pry something from you later, but Oberyn needed to focus. A lucrative position on the small council, and a trial approaching rapidly should take up his attention. So you change the subject. Telling Ellaria of a strip of market you could take her to. Allowing yourself to loosen up at the playful grins and warm wandering eyes she generously gives, and trying to will Oberyn not to do this right now.
You knew something was brewing, but you didn’t know what or when it would heat too far so just maybe you wanted to pretend. Act as if there was no issue. Oberyn was the more intense of the pair, he would get out of you what he intended to in time, but for now, you watched him relax like you. Enjoying the peace before a day, that for him, was another cog in his future. Just gathering pieces for a machine that, to you, was yet unknown.
For a while, that peace did come. The sun bearing down over the city, still somewhat clouded by the darker cramped streets, but there did seem to be more life then in the days past. Ellaria standing tall and beautiful by your side, her arm linked with yours as you passed through the streets, her making comments about where certain vendors got their products and how egregious their selling point was. “How are you so comfortable wherever you go? You always seem to just be at ease.”
Her smile lit up her face as she tugged your body in closer to hers. “Most people are the same no matter where you go. Of course the further north you go, the more rigid and strict the Lords and highborns get, but I’ve always found the normal people to be the same. People who have no stake in the bigger picture, so they all just want to enjoy life.”
Her hair tickling the side of your face as she leans to the side more, muttering into your ear much quieter, “Besides, I really couldn’t care less about what people in power think of me. I enjoy my life, how many of them can say the same?”
It was a wish you had yourself, to look at your life and say you are happy with how it’s turned out but that was not what the Gods had in store for you. Born on fire, and now you lay trapped in a city determined to make you burn from it. “I know the feeling.” Ellaria turned to look at you but your eyes trained forward, “The last time I felt anywhere near happy was just after I left. On my own, travelling in cold woods and staying hidden, but it was just me. Anything that happened to me, was now on me. No one else. Regardless of what led me there.”
Jolting back you see Ellaria stopped, her gentle hands cradling the sides of your face, “And how about right this moment?”
Oh she had set a trap and you were willingly about to step right on it. It was hard to deny her, like she radiated temptation, but one that felt like the only temptation she was offering was relief, so you took her bait. “I’m sure I could find a way to make it better.”
Leaning in to meet her lips, you could feel a smile on her fighting against her movement. Tender lips caressing yours, only to lean in for more as you pull away. A playful glare directed towards you as you smirk, tugging her back to link arm in arm and continue your path. A few more stares than beforehand only this time you could count on them meaning nothing to smallfolk. A beautiful foreigner kissing a common whore in the streets, not exactly gossip to chew on.
No, the only watchful eye this time was from an approaching figure. Tall with a shaved head, studious eyes taking in everything as if they all spoke some kind of secret. A whisper more accurately, a man with such mystique only he could hold such a title.
Ellaria smiled brightly at him as he found himself in front of you, both of you giving small versions of a curtsy, more of a slight bend down though, neither of you rather bothered with perfect formality. You weren’t sure if who you played as should know him, but the role meant nothing. If Lord Baelish knew who you were, then Lord Varys certainly isn’t fooled. So you settled, “My Lord.”
The slithery voice was unlike how Baelish’s was. With the later, it was one drenched in slime and mistrust. Lord Varys was more smooth, like every word was spoken carefully with distinct meaning. He nodded to you first, “My Lady,” before turning to Ellaria. “And of course you must be-”
“Ellaria Sand. If I’m not mistaken, you must be Lord Varys.”
Seemingly humble, he brushes it off. “Please, just Varys. I’m not actually Lord of any House.”
Ellaria herself had a gaze that seemed to match his own, watching like a raven as she puts whatever pieces of information she’s gathered together. “I’m also no Lady, and yet we call each other as such anyways.” Vary’s eyes seemed to raise just slightly, impressed or surprised it was difficult to read. He was a hard man to read, no doubt an image carefully carved out intentionally.
Curious eyes on hers as well, “Yes. We do. So wonderful to meet you, Prince Oberyn has spoken very highly of you, and I can see why.” Uniform but polite until suddenly Varys turns to your attention, calling you by the name you hide behind, as if you’ve ever met each other in the city. “If you wouldn’t mind, I was hoping we could have a word in private.”
Heart pounding while your body turned to stone, he has no reason to speak to who you are here. No, you know it’s her he wants to speak to. The one you hide. But you deflect, “Flattered my Lord, but I’m not quite sure my services are up to your kind of requirements.”
Just a smile. No, he wasn’t fooled one bit. “I assure you it will only take a moment, if that is alright with your companion here of course.”
Her grip on your arm tightened, looking at you for doubt, a reason to pull you away from this uncertainty. It was like a cord winding your heart watching Ellaria look to you for any distress, but Lord Varys was smarter then a simple ambush. No, whatever games he played were long and twisted with many others. Blinking slowly at her, your face relaxing just slightly, and she understood. “Of course. Take your time, we are in no rush.”
Despite the raging fire inside you, losing her touch felt cold and empty. Moving to stand beside him you turned to Ellaria once more, “Please, continue on without me. I know where to find you anyways.” Her doubtful face only had to agree. Between your secrets and Oberyns inner turmoil in this city, you wanted her to at least enjoy herself. To keep her Oberyn as far away from your danger as possible, leave them unscathed.
So you parted ways, Ellaria taking her time to look upon the stalls of the street as you know she was watching you walk away. Lord Varys leading you to a nicer part of the streets, in view doors leading to small but much cleaner and well kept buildings than what you’re used too in the city. “I hope you’ll forgive the sudden invitation. The current state of affairs keeps me quite busy I’m afraid. Very little time to attend to other matters.”
Lord Varys gestured for you to climb the steps up a quiet and modest looking building. “I can only imagine.” The inside was a tinge of dark, shutters kept closed only allowing a bit of light to trickle in from the cracks. Fabric, wool, needles lay about on shelves and machines with a small section cleared with two seats. It appeared to be a tailor of sorts, but the people long gone and little sign of life.
You found a spot in the middle of the main room, limbs tingling from the tension coursing through you while Lord Varys gestured for you to have a seat. His back turned as he seemed to grab something you couldn’t see, “Normally meetings aren’t in such dingy quarters, but inviting you all the way to the Red Keep didn’t seem like the place to help make you feel comfortable to talk.”
As he spoke you slowly begun to sit, posture rigid and afraid to make any sudden movements too quick or too loud. Forcing a tight smile on your lips, “Just never had the opportunity is all.”
He continued to stand, his face as impassive as ever. “I didn’t think you would have. A dangerous place for someone hiding away to venture over too. With as many Lords visiting the city as there are, you wouldn’t want to take any chances of being recognized by the wrong person.”
Finally he moved to sit across from you, but you remained like a statue. “I’m not sure why you’d think that my Lord. I’m just a common-”
Interrupting you with words freezing your entire body over. “The face of a dead highborn lady walking about the Red Keep is sure to gather attention by at least some. And the walls have ears, and it travels fast.” Your hands laying in your lap curled into themselves, digging nails into the skin of your palm with a sharp sting. Head shaking in denial, Lord Varys only tilted his head slightly. “There’s no need to play coy, my Lady. You can be assured whatever Lord Baelish knows, always crawls it’s way back to me.”
Air constricted in your lungs, twisting them until there were only scraps remaining. You could keep lying, you could run, anything to escape this but there was nothing you could do. He knew and if you didn’t play along what would he do to you then? So you sat. Inwardly preying to the Old Gods, hoping they could hear you all the way here.
“Presuming you have no idea what he wanted you for, it must be quite nerve wracking to be plopped into one if his brothels and left to fend for yourself. Having to fake your way through the days as you wait to see what it is he intends to use you for.”
Eyes flickering down and skating back and forth between meaningless spots on the wooden surface. Each warm and comforting moment between you and the Dornish couple you’ve grown so attached to slips away from your fingertips. The bubble you’ve created ready to burst and leaving you feeling stupid for ever getting lost in a fantasy too good for you. “If I’m supposed to be dead,” finally looking up to meet him in the eye. “What could he possibly want with me? What do you want with me?”
There was a silence, Lord Varys simply watching you with his ever running mind trying to figure you out. “Lord Baelish and Lord Tywin have similar goals in mind, though for very different reasons. To them, the strongest way to secure an ally, is marriage. Lord Tywin no doubt looking for ways to strength his delicate hold on the North, and Lord Baelish ensuring a partnership by offering a bride as leverage.” You knew where this was headed, and your body shook in retaliation. There was only one option that would be of any significance. “Whoever produces the still living daughter of House Slate gets the upper hand, holds more influence over them. House Bolton may be in charge of the North currently, but the more Houses they unify, the more allies rally behind the crown.”
Nails dug deeper, peeling the skin back as you pressed harder. Your body giving you only enough air to breathe out any words. “But Lord Bolton..I thought he..”
Lord Varys nodded casually, but there was a twinge of sympathy in his eyes. “Lord Roose Bolton did marry yes, one of the trade offs to get the Frey’s willing to help betray Robb Stark. But if the whispers I’ve been told come to pass, his son, Ramsey, will be in need of a highborn wife to produce him an heir should his father choose to legitimize his birth right.”
It was cold, the fire burned inside of you but everything felt cold. You shook and felt it take all life and faith out of you. You never met Ramsey Snow, but you knew of him. The things he’s done, the kind of horror he really is. Death would be better than anything a lifetime of marriage to Ramsey could give you. Minutes passed, maybe hours, the world felt like it was taken right under your feet. This was why you were here. Little Finger gets you in his clutches, then hides you away until Ramsey is declared a Bolton, then sold off to him in the name of strengthening the North. A North only made as such now under the cruelty of a Lannister.
“I on the other hand, see very little benefit in that arrangement. All this time hiding, only to be thrown into a fate worse than the one you ran from. No, what I propose is much different. Something in the opposite direction of your former home.” Leaning back in his seat, the hint of pained sympathy seems to lighten to a much more scheming pleasantry. “I hear Dorne is rather lovely this time of year.”
Rather then give your cards away, you just challenged him. “What use could I possibly be for you in Dorne?”
A smile fell across Vary’s face, a small but knowing one that told you you were only going to get a tiny section of this story. Standing up, he slowly walked to grab something out of an ornate locked box nearby. “Things in the realm are changing, and when the tides turn, I don’t intend to stand by and just wait for the results to fall in my lap. Loyal allies are more important than the one with the biggest army, and you have already found an ally in Dorne haven’t you?”
Facing you but still standing further away, you tilted your head with a confused squint prompting him to elaborate. “Prince Oberyn spoke very fond of you. Not that he gave anything away, but enough that we both knew the other knows the truth. Whatever kind of relationship you’ve developed with him is enough he is willing and determined to protect you.”
Evening your breathing out, that much more comforting feeling once again pumped through your veins. “You want him to take me to Dorne? Why?” As your lungs puffed back out, the air circulated easier, letting your voice come out steady, firm but calm.
Stepping up to the table, Varys held something close, tucked under the drape of his robes. “When the time comes, Prince Doran will need to choose where his allegiances lie, and what lives beyond the Narrow Seas offers his Kingdom much more than the Houses of Westeros can provide.”
The Master of Games rather than Whispers, he was allocating his pieces right where he needs them and he knows how to win. But you only had one play, one card to throw onto the table that may get you some kind of an answer. “Does that thing involve three living dragons?” Varys appeared taken back just an inch. Eyes raising in curiosity. “Because history has proven that dragons mean very little to the Dornish people.”
His steps brought him slowly around the table closer to you. “As does the promise of Targaryean rule. The people of Dorne have a complicated history with most of the major rulers in Westeros, but there are different kinds of dragons, ones not currently tormenting the skies of Essos that could be of great help to them.”
Abruptly you stood, walking needlessly into the empty space trying to understand. Spinning to look at him you gave him an honest look. “You don’t need me for this. You’re talking about- this is bigger than me, I’m not any of these people what good would some rumoured dead Northern girl be? My family isn’t strong, I’m not a fighter, I’m not influential, I’m not some Targaryean dragon rider, you don’t need me for this.”
Vary’s eyes squinted slightly. Just slightly. Coming to stand in front of you, he holds a hand out asking for your own. He held yours in both of his, and just as he spoke, you felt something weighted and metal drop into your palm. “Prince Oberyn will have certain arrangements made by the time the trial is over. I have no doubt he will adamantly involve you in those plans, and I have no conflict of interest in letting that plan go smoothly.”
Pulling his hands away he looked you directly in the eyes, speaking a silent command. One you understood. Putting both your hands clasped together, the unknown object sat unseen in your palms in front of you. “What is it about me that does anything that you couldn’t do yourself? You want me in Dorne, why me? Why do you want me specifically? Why the interest in me at all?”
Now in your personal space, he lowers his voice, leaning down to keep the words to yourself. “We have more in common then you know, Lady Slate.” His voice almost in a pointed exaggerated tone at your real title, “Think on it. Think very carefully about what I’ve told you today. I’d hate to see your use go to waste at the hands of a cruel Bolton boy instead of a Prince.”
Then, he was gone. Leaving you alone in this empty space, head spinning and twirling until it forced your eyes shut just to steady. Inhaling and exhaling deeply for a matter of minutes. Finally you opened your cupped palms, tilted just enough hoping any watching eyes wouldn’t see what it was given to you.
A metal sigil. The very top of the circular metal with some kind of hook as if this were apart of something else at one point. The colours seemed somewhat faded but the image itself stood on it’s own regardless. A dragon, a black dragon with 3 heads against a paint that was just clean enough to recognize as blood red. This wasn’t- this wasn’t what it was supposed to be. Like someone took the Targaryean sigil but messed it up. Why did Lord Varys have something like this? More frustratingly, why did he give this to you? What did this have to do with any of this?
You snapped your head up, looking around to find no onlookers or watchful eyes. Quickly, you tugged the small metal into the fabric of your dress, hidden away from anyone but you. As you stepped out the door, the streets looked just as they always did. Not even a glance towards you as you stepped out onto the pathway.
Walking back to the brothel, you felt conflicted. Trying desperately to uncover the mysteries just presented to you, and the other, the quiet but angry little voice calling you stupid for even dreaming that you meant anything to Oberyn and Ellaria to bring you with them. Neither ever indicated any real desire to have you in their life beyond these few weeks, no one ever wanted that.
Still though, maybe you at least had a chance of leaving this city. That, you could live with. You’re unsure if you should mention this conversation to either of them. Ellaria wouldn’t push, but Oberyn would. If Varys was telling the truth, then Oberyn has more going on than telling you, but you couldn’t think about that. Let him do this trial, let him sit on the small council. Oberyn had bigger plans than bringing you to his home, and you weren’t going to be a distraction to that.
You didn’t leave the room the day of the trial. You couldn’t go anywhere near the Red Keep anyways, so it hardly mattered. You had been tense every since your conversation with Varys. Dragons in the east, allying with Dorne, and somehow you were supposed to be right in the middle of that. You weren’t sure what you were going to do if Oberyn left you behind. Previously you tried not to think about it but now you had a tangible nightmare awaiting you if you just waited your turn.
The fear and intimidating man that is Roose Bolton was the one you knew. Friends with your father but just as cruel as each other. Gods, if you could choose your horrible fate you’d probably just marry him, be demanded to provide him with an heir and be ignored. Marrying Ramsey was another fate entirely. No one who heard of him had to meet him to know if his reputation was true. Everyone said the same things, abuse, torture, a giddiness towards killing, and a forceful attitude towards whatever girl he could claim.
You would rather die on your own terms then that. Let Oberyn and Ellaria be your last memories. Shutting your eyes, you could almost feel their touch again. Hear the teasing laughter in their voice from last night, constantly poking and prodding at you every time you fell back into a performance.
Ellaria lay spread out on the sheets, her body out on display as she was pulled partially back into an equally undressed Oberyn. Her head thrown back in a moan only to stutter and shift into laughter when Oberyn would point out you were losing focus. Her cunt yours for the taking. Some moments you were drowning in her, addicted to her taste, needing to hear her sounds and hips squirm with each lick of her folds or caress to her clit.
Other times you fell back into being in bed with a man demanding you and another girl fuck for his pleasure. How all was expected was to show off dramatically, let them get off to the sight of over exaggerated movements and unnecessarily loud whines. Oberyn’s deep voice would ring in your ears, “Focus, little one. If you’re not enjoying yourself, neither is she. You’re not here to impress me, taste her and just do what feels right.”
Your mouth just an inch away from her, the brush of your hair tickled her inner thighs as you nodded, one of your hands splayed up to cover part of her stomach and hip, holding her down. Just as you leaned back into her, Ellaria’s breathy voice speaks up. “If he wanted a show, he could just step outside and toss a coin at the first pair of brainless girls that walk by.”
You had to rest your forehead on her mound, shaking her hips slightly as you silently laughed. Oberyn shifting down to pull her into his chest more, groping her chest with greed as Ellaria laughed herself. Fingertips from your other hand tap alongside her leg, “You did pay for a whore afterall, performing is supposed to be my skill.”
Whatever rebuttal she had at the tip of her tongue was lost when yours licked back into her. Her orgasm hit her quickly as you drank everything it offered. Just as quick she was pulled up her back now against Oberyn’s chest, his cock sliding into her with a steady pace, a dance they’ve done a thousand.
Her head was thrown back into his shoulder, as Oberyn finds your own eyes, kneeling up with your palms resting down in front of you, almost unsure if to interrupt them with your own presence. His pace slows down as he stares into your own eyes, “Think I forgot about you?”
Ellaria barley lifts her head, titled into his neck with an arm wrapped behind her grasping at his hair, her eyes just peek enough to spot yours. Her other hand beckons you up to her and raises her head up as she clasps your hand in her.
Oberyn slows more and grasps Ellaria’s hips firmly as she tugs you into her. Pulling you into her chest she slides up and grasps at your hair, hovering her lips over yours. “If you really want to show off,” her other hand moves back to her front and slinks down your own body, her grip on your hair yanks slightly to turn both of your heads just a tad to look back at Oberyn. “How about I show him just what he’s missing out on, here?” Raking her gaze up and down yourself.
Oberyn all but growls out Ellaria’s name in warning, but you both smirk at the other. Her capturing your lips as both of your hands roam each other. Oberyn’s cock soaked deep in Ellaria’s cunt being the only attention given to him.
She teases him endlessly with you. She knows he’s holding off on fucking you properly. Neither of you are quite sure why, but all he does is push you right to the edge, tip you just over it, and let Ellaria be the one to pull you down with her instead.
Oberyn’s hands hug her hips and ass back into his own as he fucks her, and your own fingers reaching down to rub her clit in tandem. Your pace matching his before Ellaria’s body falls back briefly into his. His cock slowly sliding in and out, a kiss on the side of her head, as you pull her back up to gently press your own lips against hers.
Glossy eyes returning to normal, her and Oberyn once more lean the sides of their heads into each other, both looking at you in question. His mouth in biting range to her ear, but the husk of his voice whispers loud, “Show her how grateful we are, wouldn’t you my love?”
Turning in for a proper kiss she smirks into his as they part, “My pleasure.”
Your body hovering over hers, Ellaria’s fingers dip into your own cunt, soaked just from pleasuring her. Rare to find a woman working in places like this so naturally aroused by giving, though perhaps it was just something her and Oberyn got to experience alone. If she had final say, Ellaria would make it so it stays that way.
For now though, her fingers pump in and out of you as Oberyn fucks his final pounds into her. Your head was down taking in the coiling orgasm building up, but Oberyns hand nudged under your chin up to look at him.
Brown eyes with a penetrating gaze, your eyes on his face, the grit of his teeth, jaw clenched tight, and nostrils flared as he fucks his cum up into his paramour. His hand under your chin the entire time, until you slip out from it as Ellaria brings you to your own end.
One hand steady on Ellaria’s waist, while the other reaching out blindly, tightly holding onto Oberyn’s arm as your orgasm sparks and sets ablaze. A sharp loud gasp with your head tilted back hardly noticing her fingers leaving you empty. Taking both hands you smooth the wild hair flung about your head before placing both palms down, once again knees on the bed as you come down.
Briefly you notice Ellaria’s hands cup your cheeks just long enough to sneak a kiss, “You were right, you perform quite well no matter what, lover.” You both chuckle somewhat breathlessly as you swat at her hands, turning just long enough to see her slip a beautiful deep yellow robe as she heads towards the jug of water.
Strong arms slide across your shoulder and one around your stomach, tugging you into Oberyn’s side. Your back against his chest, his chin resting atop your head, but unlike the sensual loving embrace he just had Ellaria in, this one felt almost calming. Purposely calming, keeping you tight against him as your heart pounding quiets. Quietly muttering your name, he moves the arm on your shoulder to reach up and stroke the side of your cheek with his thumb. “You don’t have to tell me what Lord Varys spoke to you about even though I can see it’s bothering you.”
Soon Ellaria moves back to sit on the edge of the bed, her feet dangling downward to the floor as opposed to the tangled mess yours and Oberyns splayed out to the side were. “We just need to know one thing, sweet girl.” Ellaria’s deep eyes shining with vaguely concealed worry as she debated how to say what they both were thinking. “Are you in danger? Being here?”
No doubt Oberyn could feel your body tense, his head tucking itself into the crux of your neck leaving scattered kisses in his wake. The deep rumblings of his voice vibrating through your spine. “If you don’t feel safe you need to tell us. You’ve been trapped here under the eyes of very powerful and dangerous men, I know better than anyone how few options you have to leave. So I need a yes or no.”
No, you shook no. Unsure if there was even a way to explain things without just spilling the words you are sure Lord Varys told to you in confidence. A risky meeting in the middle of the city just to keep the walls from listening. But they wanted to know. They needed to know. If Little Finger didn’t come back for his plan North, then it would only be a matter of time before Lord Tywin figured out where you were hiding.
Constricting tighter around your body, Oberyn’s nose brushed against your cheek before the hand on your jaw turned you up into an aggressive kiss. Harsh and needy, but short. Not much was said about it the rest of the night, unsure if it was no one knowing how to say what they were thinking, or if for now, no one just wanted too.
It was new being with them in such a way. They were intense, and demanding, but so deeply loving. Treating you with as much respect and admiration as they have for the other.
Keeping you trapped between their bodies as you all slept, only to be woken by gentle rubs to your clit from Oberyn behind you, slowly, quiet so keep the beauty in front of you both undisturbed. Your naked body pressed back against him entirely, as he kisses you, his tongue against yours as he makes you cum, keeping you quiet. They were a dream you were too scared to wake up from.
Which is why you stood. Hands tightly holding the metal sigil as you stared out the window. The view barely different from the one in your tiny, now unwelcoming room. Like they were never here, but the sting of their memories holding onto you like a leech.
You had to close you eyes tight, so tight colours danced in your vision as you desperately tried to will the tears away instead of falling. Knuckles white from how rough your grip on the sigil was. You would never find people like Oberyn and Ellaria again, and your only prospects were to hope Varys had any reason to be telling you the truth, or to brace yourself for a life of unspeakable torment at the hands of a monster.
It hurt to know Oberyn was right. You had little escape from here alone. How many spies scattered across the city, how many people did they report to, how guarded were any of the places one could sneak out from?
Embarrassed, that's how it felt. Janus, your dear uncle who taught you how to run, how to live, how to survive, wasted it all. You lasted maybe one year before being discovered and dragged to King’s Landing like a prisoner. Stashed away under lock and key until you were ready to once again be forced elsewhere to a place you knew would not help you.
Options had run out. You needed Varys to be right. Being left alone in this city, a tiger trapped in a cage only to be poked and laughed at by your hunters, was a death sentence. One that you would enact yourself if need be.
Oberyn and Ellaria may care now, but if they leave, it would only be a matter of time before they forgot you anyways. A pathetic runaway working as a whore unable to protect herself.
You could still see his face, your Uncle, he panic and distress as he told you to go. The faint sounds of your father yelling inside your home just off in the distance, the closer sound of your older brother barking orders at the boy in the courtyard to start helping. The feeling of your uncles rough, calloused hands cupping your cheeks as he pressed a final kiss to your forehead before watching you go. The urgency in his movements as he pulled you from your bed in the dead of night didn’t make sense until you watched what he was protecting you from.
The shame you would bring upon him if the next time he saw you, was as a prisoner sold off to the family that betrayed the ones you were supposed to have fought for. You had no shame hiding out in a brothel when you reached the Riverlands. You were exhausted, no money, and in territory a war was still raging on. At least in there you had shelter, food, and living in a place your family had no reason to travel to.
Had you been more vigilant, you might have noticed whispers turning into constant talk and chatter throughout the building surrounding the days events, but you were tuned out. Finding privacy to drown everything out in a tub. The water boiled far too hot didn’t phase you, just like increasing volume of gossip in the other rooms didn’t phase you.
Just like that the boiling silence was interrupted by one of the younger girls wandering in. Jumping back slightly with a hand to her chest in a gasp, she muttered out apologies. “I didn’t realize anyone was in here, just needed a minute to myself you know?” Giving a breathy little giggle, new enough to not quite recognize that your face currently screamed anything but please sit down and talk to me. Even though that’s exactly what she did. Perched on the edge of the stone rambling about how crazy this trial thing is, how she snuck out early in the morning just so she could try and get in to watch.
You distracted yourself from the mindless chatter by running the smooth cloth over your skin once more as if you were still busy washing. “I can’t believe she would do such a thing, I always thought she was so pretty too!”
You jerked your head up, brows furrowing as your ears tuned back in. “Wait, who did what?”
The girl rolled her eyes in jest, “Lady Sansa, weren’t you listening?” Flickering her hand over the water to splash at you, she pulled away with a hiss, shaking the stark heat off her fingers. You only felt more confused. “Have you not heard what everyone is saying? Asking the imp to kill the King because he didn’t want to marry her anymore! I mean why else would she run, right?”
Oh you’re sure you could think of an endless list of reasons that would drive a teenage girl kept prisoner in the city, to want to escape the first chance she got. If you didn’t believe Tyrion Lannister poisoned Joffery you were even more certain that Sansa Stark had even less to do with it. Besides, she didn’t run away, she was flown off by a certain conniving mockingbird. “Is it,” You paused to take a breathe, reforming your words, be as moderate as possible. “What did the judges decide?”
Her eyes went wide hands dramatically splaying on her chest over her heart, “It was insane, the judges didn’t even reach a verdict. The imp went on this tirade saying he wished he did it, that he was glad to watch and that he should have let that Baratheon take the city. He demanded a trial by combat now.”
It was rare now. The two parties fight to the death and whoever lives, the Gods have declared innocent. You had never seen it used, or even heard it really. Most men were either condemned to death it they wanted a trial, but most just confessed and were banished to The Wall. Though this time, the defendant was Tyrion Lannister. Clearly a brave man if what you’ve been just told is true, but not a skilled fighter by any means. “Do we know who’s fighting in their places? I’m sure Lady Cersei has a list of knights willing to fight for her,”
“Oh yeah, her champion is The Mountain.”
The blood drained from your face, racing down to you’re heart and forcing it’s painful thud against your chest. The girls words fading away as the dread raised. You knew why she chose him, a man known for nothing but sheer size, strength and unusually cruel brutality. A vile thing whose only purpose was to cause others pain.
It got caught in your mouth, your words sitting in the back of your throat, festering until it almost felt like you would be sick. Not many men would take on The Mountain in a fight to the death, even less men who cared even a bit about Tyrion Lannisters innocence. No this was worse. Was cruelty of the Seven mocking you, or the Old Gods just leaving your faith behind entirely. But you knew there was only one answer to your question, even if she didn’t know that.
“And Lord Tyrion?” She flipped her long hair back raising her eyebrows in question. “Wh-Who is to be Lord Tyrions champion?”
She said she didn’t really know, that it must have been decided outside the trial. But you didn’t need to figure it out. The Mountain was about to return to King’s Landing to engage in a trial by combat, a legal Crown mandated fight to the death where only the gods could determine a mans guilt. And there was only one man who was determined to make Gregor Clegane face the guilt for his crimes.
The girl left sometime in your lost silence. You didn’t hear or notice. Suddenly, you were overwhelmed with a sickening, paralyzing dread.
By the time you emerged clothed and dry, you knew for sure people were watching you this time. Quiet whispers between men and curious stares from the girls. Passing through the main chamber, a conversation between Olyvar and another suddenly stopped. A stare you couldn’t identify from the blond. Was it sympathy or was it distrust? Was this about Oberyn, or was this about Varys. Olyvar reported directly to Lord Baelish, so how much did he know about what was to be your fate?
Was he ever your friend, or was he just trying to find a way to keep you here willingly, by offering kindness. Either way he sat behind the desk staring as you stood paused in the middle of the room, watching back. If you were going to leave here, on your own terms, he was your first obstacle. Losing you would be to lose Lord Baelish’s trust, and to spies like him that was not an option, not when you knew too much.
Your chest rising with a deep breathe, and a slow blink as your head and feet returned to their destination.
You opened the door quietly, hearing more hushed tones than what would normally be heard in this room you found so much joy. If it was true, no doubt they had talked about it together, they mean so much to each other, and now, death or justice is his only choice. Only one, was easily given.
Your steps felt small and meek, but with one ping against the floor, the two dark haired heads flipped your way. Ellaria’s hands resting comfortably against his chest, while Oberyns rested against her arm and waist. Their eyes both shined with concern, but their tones drastically differed.
Oberyn’s were dark and pensive while Ellaria’s were solemn and understanding. Neither one enticing enough to beckon you over. Whispering something unheard to his lover, Oberyn nudged her to you as he stepped away with his back facing you.
Your eyes were trapped on his back to you as she approached you. Not until the palm of her hand gently pulling your gaze to her own. With a stuttering breath, so quiet you almost couldn’t hear it yourself you asked, “Is it...he’s really going to do this?” The solemn eyes turned almost a shade warmer as she nodded. She understood him more, but she also understood you. Your own eyes shut, head dropping. Jaw clenched, you didn’t trust your own words.
Feeling this way seemed wrong, he was a fighter. A fighter with such skill, whispers of his feats reached from the warm sun of Dorne to the grey dreary North. If this were anything but what it was, you wouldn’t feel such a gloom over you.
“Sweet girl,” her other soft palm found your cheek as well, as your own hands reached to hold onto her wrist, looking up at her. “I know. Trust me, I know. But this isn’t some young impulsive kid jumping into the light just because he’s cocky. This means so much more-”
Just like that you dropped her wrists and stepped back. You stepped back and she tried to step forward, and once again you stepped back. Blinking away how obvious you were, your head shook and a tight lipped smile forced it’s way onto your face. “No, no, it’s alright Ellaria. I understand entirely.” You refused to look over to the other side of the room, to see if brown eyes were waiting to catch yours. “How long?”
Ellaria blinked too, you weren’t alone in keeping yourself together, she was simply practised. “A day maybe. However long it takes the Mountain to return to the city.”
Don’t do this, keep yourself painted like metal. Steady voice steady face. “I will do what I can to help prepare.” Walking past her, you could feel the soft material of her dress brush your arms. Eyes shut, shaking your head just enough to force the tears back in.
The night was quiet. Your persona was up as high and pretending as it ever had been. There was no trace of your genuine self that evening. Ellaria was a bit easier, no matter the outcome she would still be here. She would leave but you could remember her and pray for her safety and journey, knowing just maybe, you were still close enough to the Old Gods that they could hear you over the Seven and appease just one ask from you.
You hardly looked at Oberyn like you were real. Cordial, getting him what he wanted and answering any question he posed out of simple want or jest. Any point being made to reach out to this mask was met with short answers, a stock answer you gave to any men coming through that would just throw coin your way regardless of your feeling. You think he looked at you a lot that evening, never being able to shake the unwavering intensity seemingly on your person.
The day you accepted this offer, saying yes to this beautiful interesting couple who had you talking and laughing without any facade, letting your company be theirs. Worrying at the time if this would be a mistake and it was. Oberyn had found an opportunity to do what is right, and that’s all that mattered. You didn’t matter, and you didn’t want to matter anymore. Not again.
They spent much time in quiet hushes together as the sun finally feel dark, many times finding you in their words. And for the first time in the weeks you’ve spent together, you watched them find each others arms in bed, and sleep take them away from the insanity this day had brought, but didn’t join them.
The moon was high and bright that night, a blue glow sprinkled over every surface, but did nothing to lull you to sleep. Your side rested against a wall as you looked out into the streets. Dead or not, the outcome wouldn’t affect these people, they would go about their lives and nothing would change. Many for sure, would come to watch, root and cheer for the charming Dornish Prince with a skilled fighting reputation unlike any other, and most of them would feel very little after his death.
You couldn’t do this again, you couldn’t handle it. You could see his face looking through the glass of the stained window. His voice ringing in your ears, begging you to never return, telling you that you meant the world to him, that he loved you and this needed to happen to keep you safe. Your body tensing, limbs curling in on themselves and your body failing you wanting to collapse as you saw the blood.
The only one who ever cared about you, and all you could see was the blood spurting from his mouth, and the blades ripping through the warm chest your smaller self often found the only comfort to exist to you. He was the only one, and now that you’ve found another, you could see it happening again.
Gregor Clegane was formidable and mercilessly sadistic. One mistake, one simple slip that he could take advantage of, and it was over. Countless men over the years found that out, and now, his opponent was a man who seeks justice from someone unwilling to believe in such a thing.
You got no sleep that night, nor would you the next. When the sun comes up the day after tomorrow, there is no certainty that you will be able to look behind your position, and see the chest so warm it matches the Dorne sun. His handsome face, soft all over all framed by an angular nose that you will never forget the feeling of as it runs down your own before his lips follow.
Maybe you will find it, but there was the blood. And his face covered in it before you turned and ran. And it became harder to stay positive. You’d leave before sunrise.
Ellaria wasn’t the bargaining chip presented to you, Oberyn was. If Oberyn dies, than there is no escape coming to help. You have to find a way to try.
Your night was spent awake, eyes on the glow of the moonlit streets, sat on the still just at the windows base. Fabric and metal. You knew what you wanted, and you needed to be awake to get them without the watchful eyes of the cities birds. And you needed to get them in and yourself back out out of the view of a close fair haired little bird, whom chirps it’s findings to a conniving mockingbird, and before a powerful lion finds you first.
Leaving out in the morning was easy, no one was awake and whomever might be was used to the sound of people sneaking out in the early hours. Eager to return home before other knights and noblemen see where they’ve spent the night.
The tailor shop was still empty, part of you could only wonder where the owners went too, and if leaving their shop and home abandoned was a coincidence, or a way to ensure an empty space with no chance to wandering in dwellers for secret talks.
You had riffled through the trunks, shapeless and muted rags clearly meant to be cut up and remade into something else were yours for the taking. As well as the dye. A dark coloured dye, almost black meant to stain the material before final alterations would be set. It was close to the kind of look you once had, but hid after finding refuse in an inn.
At least if this worked, you could let your hair grow from it’s roots without staining so heavily to drain the dark colour out of it in the dead of night.
Metal was more difficult. Blacksmiths would have what you wanted, but you had not the coin or the thieving abilities to secure one for yourself. Scraps though, were perhaps something more your level anyways. Most shops had one alleyway to dump wasted product, sometimes it was cleaned up by another, and sometimes they just waited for the poorest of the slums to come and scour for anything of need.
You could see from your vantage point, there likely was metal there so you started to walk. You were good at watching your back, empty streets or uncaring eyes left you invisible to go about your way. Nothing you could detect noticed you.
Nothing that is, until your vision spun and your back slammed into the wall of the very alley you ventured into. A hard sting vibrated through your spine, but the back of your head only felt a cushion that cradled its frame. An accented voice greeted your startled figure. “I’m not sure if I should be offended that you think I’m that easy to sneak away from.”
Oberyn stood close in front of you, the hand he used to cushion your head slides to find a home matching his other, palms against the brick on either side of you caging you in as his tall broad frame covers your vision. There was a fond smirk on his face as his eyes twinkled with amusement, but it was hard to focus on how he looked at you.
Your own face fell from startled, to relieved, all the way down to upset. That beautiful smile on such a beautiful man, you felt guilt for how detached you were trying to become. “I didn’t think, I’m sorry-”
Shushing you quietly, Oberyn moved in closer to you, a hand on your hip and the other raking through your hair until it found a home on your jaw and neck. “Perhaps we should talk somewhere less, suggestive.”
His smirk grew wide and mischievous as you followed to see an older man watching with a curious but lewd demeanour. Two people pressed up against the other, one pushed against a wall with the other having his hands over you. Before you could agree, the second your head looked away, Oberyns lips captured yours. Almost pulling you up to your toes as he leans to tower over you before his tongue making a salacious performance to explore your mouth before pulling away with a nibble.
For the first time in over a day, you finally gave him not just a smile but a laugh as well. “A girl might think you’re trying to give the man a show.” Shameless as he is, Oberyn’s hands pulled both sides of your hips into his own before snaking one back to hold your lower back up. His tongue being replaced with a bite filled aggression before barley separating your lips as he turns you both to walk away.
Oberyn giving the man a wink as they passed, and you couldn’t tell what made you giggle more, that or the jaw dropped face of the man you couldn’t tell was aroused or offended by the gesture. His hand never left the small of your back as he led you to a path you knew would find it’s way to the water. “I don’t want you to feel the need to run and hide from me. What this is that you’re feeling is understandable, but I want you to just be open with me what you’re feeling this way.”
There was hardly much in the way of sun as you both reached the small opening of water, a tiny channel that opened wide into the sea, but what little sunlight reached you both reflected radiantly on his skin. The yellow fabric draped over his body did nothing to hide as you were dressed to, but did everything to overwhelm you with his beauty. A robe with rich yellows and hints of a deeper orange made it hard to ever look away from him. It made you miss him too.
For a while, you both stood there, splashes against the rocks and his hand on your back still. But it was too much. “Tomorrow you fight. As Tyrions champion.” The tears almost started to collect in the backs of your eyes as you whispered to him.
His hand pulled you in closer to his side. “I am. Somebody should. He’s innocent, and that deserves to be defended.” Oberyn knew he didn’t need to elaborate. You were smart, you saw less than he heard yet you still came to the better conclusion than the court.
“And because the Mountain is Cersei’s champion.”
His eyes narrowed as he looked up into the brightening sky, chin held high and not a shred of doubt in his body. “What I want for my sister, for her children, is justice. That’s not easy in a place like this, and I’m not fooled into thinking I can just force it to happen because I want it too. These proud golden lions only stand tall for as long as there are many of them. Their time will come, it’s not just me who has made sure of that.”
Oberyns free hand grasped the closest of yours, thumb swiping on and over the skin as his eyes traced the lines before once again finding home in the waters. “Gregor Clegane needs no justice. He doesn’t deserve it and he will never give it. There’s very little chance for him to ever atone for his crimes, and if no one will do it than I will.”
Body turning to you, you stepped around to look at him the same, his hand now back on your hip and holding yours out between both your bodies. “I’m defending an innocent man because it’s right. But this is also a chance we may never get again. To face the man with their blood on his hands and hear from his mouth that he did it. That he murdered her children. Elia’s children, and raped her with their own blood on his body before murdering her as well. I want to hear him tell me he did it, so he dies knowing he never actually got away with it.”
You nodded to him, “And you? What do we get if you die? Ellaria, your daughters, your family. Leaving them behind will be just as painful as the kind you feel now.”
His fingers bring your chin up closer to his. “It’s not my honour I’m fighting for. It’s for my sisters memory and that, sweet girl, is something they understand. I love them dearly, but they also know the pain Elia left behind, they feel it too, and it’s not something they want to let go either. I have to do this, and it’s something they understand.”
While you gave a single nod, your eyes mapped out his, the ferce love within them. “But this isn’t just about me is it? This fear, it’s more than just what happens tomorrow. Right?”
This time, the tears found their way to the surface. Not falling but enough that they were impossible to miss. Oberyn’s hands bringing you into a chaste kiss, keeping you against him but leaving you to speak.
“My Uncle was the only person who ever cared. About me or for me. The rest of my family happy to leave me locked away until they needed someone to take their frustrations out on.” Oberyn’s eyes flashed a danger you had yet to see shone your way, and the tears wanted more.
Turning your body you leaned back into his chest that moved with you. His arms wrapping around your frame as you both watched the water. Your falling tears matching the clarity of the colour. “You were right. There’s no point hiding it. You saw the bruises I tried to hide, and those were only the ones my brother could make alone. My father was more inclined to hurt me where others could see it. I never knew why. I still don’t. My mother could barley look at me, like something about my existence shamed her, but whatever that was made my father despise me. Janus, my uncle, was the only one who tried to protect me.”
A faint smile crossed your face, tears still falling but with a lighter reprieve. “He taught me anything he could afford to. How to defend myself enough to find a way to run, how to hide, brought me whenever he was travelling elsewhere to make sure I learned as much about the world as I needed to. I just never realized it wasn’t just out of kindness. It was out of necessity.”
Your hands gripped Oberyns arms around your front. “It was pitch black out the night he dragged me out of bed. He pulled me into his own room, and told me to put everything on that he had laid out, and that when I was done, I needed to climb out. There was a branching tree that you could reach, and start to climb down on, so I did as I was told as he left the room entirely. I didn’t understand why until I was already making my way down. I could see in my window, the door flying open, and shadows of men, men I knew, men my father trusted. And I could see them stabbing into the bed thinking I was still there.”
Oberyn tugged your body against him tighter, a terse anger stewing through his person, but he let you speak. “Everyone was looking for me, Janus put me on a horse, and told me once I got closer to the borders I needed to abandon it, sell it, but get it away from me. He told me I could never come back. That he couldn’t tell me why, but he told me never to let my father find me, and not to trust any of the Northern houses. That whatever side I thought they were on was wrong, and I couldn’t trust them.”
“Two boys found him first, older boys, sons of my fathers guards who would do anything to impress the Lord of the House. They tried to grab and drag me off the horse, but he knocked them away so I could take off. And they re payed that kindness by shoving a knife through his throat. The last memory I have of the only person who ever cared about my life is watching him spew blood from his mouth before collapsing to the ground.”
You spun in his arms, both your eyes painfully watching the others closely. “I understand why you have to do this. I do, and I want you to do what you need to for her. But I also need you to just know why that’s...difficult to accept. I’m not trying to stop you. I don’t want to stop you. But watching the same thing happen to you..I can’t-”
Your body trembling in his arms, eyes red as he tucks you into his chest completely. “What did Lord Varys tell you? You’ve been terrified ever since then.”
Your voice was muffled, but he heard you perfectly. “Lord Baelish stashed me here, so he can marry me off once Roose Bolton’s bastard is given full title. If Lord Tywin doesn’t find me first, than my new home lies in the hands of Ramsey Snow and you can’t begin to imagine the vile cruelty he commits.”
You could feel Oberyns hand moving, as if shifting your dress around to find something, but he didn’t grab you. He shuffled a bit out of sight before tipping his head back to kiss you, only separating to press his forehead against yours. “You have a home. Not may, or will. You have one. No matter what happens to me you have one. You have Ellaria. You’re not just precious to her, you’re precious to me and my death won’t change that.”
There was more to his words that you understood, but later. The walls only have ears in Kings Landing if birds are around, and what he means won’t be heard in the close confines of a bed between two lovers.
This was enough for now for you. You had your own plans, Oberyn has his, you just weren’t sure if any of them matched yours. But he was precious to you as well. They both were, you just had to trust that.
“Come, Ellaria and I want your company for breakfast. We’ve had fifteen years to spend with each other, we prefer your fresh face to look at.” His hands tapped at your hips before turning to move away. Your hands finally reach into the hidden pocket of your dress, and you saw metal. Metal tucked in a plain sheath up to a handle accented in tones of yellow, the very hilt, a sigil of a sun striked by an arrow.
While your heart pounded at what you were likely to do with it, you also felt a burst in your heart, he cared about you yes, but he also understood you. This wasn’t a blade you’ve seen him use, this is one he carried out this morning specifically, because he understands what kind of watchful eyes you will have to get past.
Staring at the hilt must have been longer then you noticed, Oberyn called your name, a whisper of your real name , seemingly almost unwilling to play this charade anymore. You reached out to accept the large hand waiting for you, he reached up and just slightly pressed his lips against the back of your hand, before keeping his arm and hands on you for most of the walk.
Any early risers only seeing what they thought a lewd, promiscuous foreigner indulging in some common whore. No suspicious gossip was passed around this time.
As the sky grew darker, the more tense you had begun to feel. Preparations for the fight tomorrow held much of the evening. You and Ellaria watching Oberyn sharpening the tipped blade of a long spear, making a point not to touch whatever he was handling. Ellaria certainly knew better, and her distance helped you know better as well. She was draped across your back and shoulders as you both sat together on the bed, her head leaned into your ear. “It’s more than just the blade he’s preparing, sweet girl.” Her hand moving to pull some of your hair back behind you, lips finding a place where the strands just lay. Your shoulders didn’t relax anymore, your pulse ringed in your ears instead.
Watching the blade, looking to where you had stashed not just the dagger but everything to hide yourself come morning. Oberyn had made it clear what was needed to be done. “There won’t be many guards watching the docks, but you have to be able to board our ship without being seen by them. And I don’t think you will be able to just sneak on without them clearly spotting you.” His eyes had trained themselves onto the dagger as you tucked it under clothes, your hands hovering in the air before clenching into a fists and finally dropping back down. The message was clear. Get rid of them.
Oberyns eyes had continuously flickered back to you. It was a lot to ask of you what he was, but it was clear you weren’t going to be allowed to just walk out of the city unscathed and unseen and the impending combat did little to ease your nerves. You couldn’t go, you couldn’t accompany the pair because the sheer amount of eyes that could and would recognize you, the long hair and soft dress, it would bring up too many questions as to why you of all whores were allowed to join them.
Oberyn had stood at this point, making his way over to you as you clearly lost yourself in thought. Crouching down to meet your eye level, his hand grasped your jaw as he said your name. “You can do this, you just have to believe in yourself, okay?”
Your eyes slipped shut as your head dropped even in his hold, “It’s not me I’m worried about.” Grasping the wrist near your head tightly. “If something happens, I won’t even know until-”
Oberyns eyes were almost harsh, a tightness to his face that carried throughout his body. “You doubt my ability, little one? You don’t think I’m capable?” His voice however held a tint of lightness to it, almost a tease. He watched you shake your head, finally looking up to his eyes, trouble brewing behind them, like too many things overpowering your anxiety. “I trust you, all you need to do in return is trust me. We both can do this.” His other hand joined to cup the other side of your face.
Ellaria’s hands slid the straps of your dress slowly downwards. “What do you need, sweet girl?” You didn’t respond. You almost couldn’t think of how to say it. What you needed, was to know that this was all real between you. The intensity, the feelings, the intimacy, you wanted it to all be genuine and you needed to feel it.
Oberyn however, read you perfectly fine. His hands slid from your face as he stood before the foot of the bed, undoing hips robes before you. “Take it off.”
Your own eyes transfixed at seeing more and more of his skin reveal itself to you, Ellaria took it upon herself to bunch up your skirt and pull it all up and over your head. Oberyns eyes tearing over your bare form as he shucked off his pants. His cock on display, deep in colour as the blood flowing through it begged for you to give it attention. But he didn’t touch it, or even approach you. His hand pulled you up to face him, as you could feel his cock brush your stomach.
Once again his hands trailed over the sides of your face, this time caressing softly, both your eyes shut as his nose trailed along yours before finding your lips with his. A gentle kiss making you tremble, before he pulled away and turned you to face Ellaria. Already having ridden herself of her own clothing, she didn’t stand to join you. She watched and waited for you to listen to orders. Oberyns large hands perched on your hips as his entire body pressed against your back. “Those beautiful lips of hers just beg to be kissed don’t they?” When you nod he slightly pushes you up onto the bed once more.
Crawling on top of her, you pressed you lips against hers. Quickly though, the soft caress turned demanding. Ellaria moving you how she wanted, the taste of her tongue only found as she slips it into your mouth. One of her hands had grabbed you by the waist as now the other slip up your stomach, between the valley of your breasts and held your neck, finally tilting your head back dramatically.
Retching a gasp from you as Oberyn now kneeled on the bed behind you, taking over her work. His lips biting and nipping at yours, his tongue demanding you grant him whatever he desires. Your breasts felt Ellaria’s hands over them, before she started rubbing her thumbs over your nipples. Giving tiny tugs and pulls in tandem with Oberyn biting your lips.
A line of spit following just slightly as his lips pulled away from your gasping mouth and trailed down you neck. His bites no less sharp, your gasps turning more into moans the deeper he marked it up and down. The burn from his facial hair reddening whatever his mouth left untouched, as Ellaria gave your breasts the same treatment.
Bruises would form against both places, slight marks of teeth against each as they overwhelmed you. Oberyns deep voice pulling your senses back, “Tell us who you belong to.” Hearing his words but not really understanding them, Oberyn repeated himself but only a moan was given in return. One of his hands around your body held your neck tight, just enough breathe allowed to pass through. “Who do you belong to?”
A breathy rasp passed your lips, “You. I belong to yo-” But that was apparently, not the right answer. At once the pairs mouths left your skin, but their hands held you firmly in place.
Oberyns forehead rested against yours. “No one.” You could feel his thumb trailing back and forth against the skin of your hip. “From this moment on, you belong to no one.” Giving you reprieve, Ellaria switched to rake through the strands of hair that framed your chest as Oberyn yanked you further into his chest as Ellaria followed. Your head now back against his shoulder. “No matter what happens tomorrow, you leave this building and never return. You get on that ship. No one in Dorne will hurt you. I will make sure of that regardless what may happen to me.”
As you reached up behind you to grasp onto Oberyns neck the other gripped the hand on your hip. Lifting your head enough so your cheek found his, your eyes craning up to see into his beautiful brown ones. “I may belong to no one, but I am yours.” Your eyes looking to Ellaria’s sultry ones, “Both of yours.”
The two of them seemed to speak in more silent tongues. Eyes watching the other as she nodded. Moving to match Oberyns kneeled stance, he pushed you against the front of her own chest, his back still against yours as he does so.
Ellaria kissed you as Oberyns fingers danced on your skin lower and lower. You gasped into her mouth as one of his hands slapped against the one of the cheeks of your ass his nails carving crescent moons into it, as his other cupped your mound. His hands holding your pelvis in place as two of his fingers trailed the slick gathering between your legs.
Stroking back and forth as your gasps and whines of need made Ellaria smirk into your mouth. You almost vibrated with burning need, but the heat only consumed you more as his two thick fingers plunged into your entrance.
The hand digging into your ass moved to rub your clit with every thrust of his fingers. Fucking into your warmth slowly, but deep to the knuckle every time as he finds that perfect angle that turns your gasps into moans once more. Ellaria cupped the back of your hair, a comforting hold as Oberyn buries his face into the other side of your neck, kissing the skin below your ear as he picks up the pace which his fingers fuck you.
His breathing heavy on your skin as you feel his thick cock resting against the middle of your ass. Your hips pushing back just slightly, Oberyn hisses into your ear as he greets your hips by pushing forward more. The fingers on your clit fall to his palm now rubbing against you harshly.
The burning coiling pleasure between your legs built and built. Had it been minutes, seconds, hours? You couldn’t feel anything but his thick fingers pushing a third into you, your desperate gasps mixed with Oberyn demanding in your ear. “Give it to me. Cum for me, and you can have me. All of me.”
The wetness from between your legs was loud with every push of his fingers, it should embarrass you. The lewd sound should bring a flustered shame to you but it doesn’t, it just makes you want to take what he’s offering. Ellaria kisses your cheek when your hands grab her waist needing something to hold. “Will you let him fuck you, my love? Fuck you like all men and women wish he fucked them like?” Rasping out yes’s, one after another. “Then cum.”
The coiling wrapped too tightly, and it snapped at it’s peak. Your orgasm flooded your body, squished between two bodies as the pleasure coursed through your veins.
Whoever was kissing your neck you couldn’t tell, your eyes shut and breathing too hard to pay attention. Oberyn yanking your hips up into the air between them higher, he gripped the base of his cock and gently slides it between your legs. Your pussy wet and soaking his cock as it dragged through the folds.
Oberyns arms wrapped around your stomach as he teased, an embrace much like ones you had seen him and Ellaria wrap each other up in countless times. He called your name, “We are yours as well. Both of us. We get through tomorrow, and even if I don’t we still are each others, all of us.” Oberyn own head rested against Ellaria’s, her hand on his face as well. The two kissed before he once again grips his cock.
Braced on her shoulders, Ellaria’s finger trailed down to your clit, resting just atop it with the weight of a feather. Their foreheads resting together as they both watched him tease his tip into you. Prodding in and out, soaking itself with your wetness before his embrace was holding you by the waist. “Please,”
That was all he needed. Oberyn thrusted his cock deep into your cunt, soaked and squelching from the sheer amount of slick, but your moans danced with each other enough to hide it.
Ellaria teased at your clit, pressing hard, rubbing circles with each fuck up into you, or simply stroking like a touch against your cheek. Oberyns cock fucked you with little mercy, he thrust deep and rough, knocking your breathe out of you too quick to regain it whenever he slid almost right back out.
“So fucking tight,” his lips almost bit against your ear as he spoke through gritted teeth. “So many men throwing gold for a chance with you, and not one of them fucked you right.” You couldn’t choose between having your hands on him or Ellaria, so she moved up so close you could feel her breathe on your own cheek. Oberyns voice was rough like he fucked, words penetrating and forced out between groans. “Beautiful girl, cunt made just for me.”
Sweat covered your bodies. Oberyns cock now pounding you with shallow thrusts, but fast. Your breasts trying to bounce with his fast fucking, but pressed too much against Ellaria’s own body. Her lips pressing anywhere they can get as she touches herself just as she touches your clit.
You mindlessly begged, for what you did not know, but you begged regardless. Moans and gasps pitched higher and higher as once again the coil wrapped around. Oberyn slowed just enough, now dragging his thick cock along your walls as he pulled out more and more and slowly back up as you clenched around him. “That’s it. Good girl.”
The burning core threatening to once again push you over the edge, but you wanted to take not just you. Reaching down blindly to join Ellaria’s own hand against her clit, she moved hers to let you take over. Oberyns cock taking over your mind, Ellaria’s lips taking over your own, her tongue finding yours as you both moan into each other.
You both cum at the same time, your fingers harmonizing with the others touch., As your head leaned back against Oberyns shoulder, one of his own reached up and grasped Ellaria’s hair, yanking her head up to watch her own orgasm take over. While your touch against her clit slid down, overwhelmed by the persistent dragging of cock inside you, Ellaria relaxed more into the bed. Holding Oberyns hand and pressing her lips to it before returning it to your own body.
Oberyn wasn’t done with you though. Pulling you from Ellaria entirely, he forced your back entirely against his chest. Each fuck into you now so close he could feel your ass move with every thrust. The shallow pace returned, fucking you fast as your orgasm was given no chance to fall back down.
Only enough strength to reach an arm behind his bed, Oberyn tucked his face into the side of your head. “Again, cum for me again, sweet girl.” His teeth gritted and hissed into your cheek, nose pressed against your skin. “You want me to fill you up?”
“Yes, yes, Oberyn. Gods please,” Oberyns own fingers found your clit and almost tugged and pulled. A contrast of Ellaria’s smooth touch. His cock filling your cunt as the warmth spread through your body.
“Be a good girl, cum for me one more time.” His own moans interrupting his own words as he spoke, “Let me feel you clench around my cock, then I’ll fill you.” He groaned your name as his lips kissed the skin he could reach and his fingers against your clit rough. “I want to fuck you full of me, see it dripping out of this warm, “a rough thrust, “tight” rougher more, “cunt.”
The slap of skin echoed throughout, loud and penetrating like the cock hurling you back to your peak. Both arms now reached back behind his head, as one of his own held onto your breast. Tight and large, as his other remained on your clit as he fucked. “Fuck, fuck, close, sweet girl- thats it,”
Your orgasm had barley even left before it flooded back to you. The pleasure like a storm overtaking your body, your eyes shut so tight you could see colours through the black. Oberyns cock didn’t let up as he continued to slide in and out of you. Thighs below shaking, and not that you felt it at the time, but tears falling down your face as you begged his name.
Oberyn’s hands now gripped tight as he came. His cock thrusting slow and deep inside of you, as you felt his warm cum full you like he promised. Name muffled against your skin as he tucked into your shoulder and neck, filling your cunt with his seed.
Ellaria was near you, her body close and gentle touches soothing you and her lover.
You took longer to come down then Oberyn. His cock still rooted deep inside you as the world around you returned. Ellaria’s lips brushed yours, and her nose nudged against your own before Oberyns fingers tipped your chin to look at him. His brown eyes wide, deep and almost soothing, an intimate desire unlike ever before. For a while he just kissed you, letting his cock soften before slipping out.
His heart beat against your back, and yours beat into Ellaria’s own. There was little sleep to be found that night. It overcame the pair, a more calm confidence towards his fight the next day, but you couldn’t.
Your body drying with sweat and cum staining you, as you slipped from their slumbering holds. You didn’t dress. Not in those. Not in the things given to you for this life you were about to run from.
No once it was early enough you moved. Your hair had grown long, preferred by both Northern and Crownsland men, and it was dyed lighter. Shades lighter then your natural to throw people off, but now you needed to throw off those whom needed to be fooled already. Much of it was cut off. The obscene length now reasonable and short enough to make those double guess you. Then you grabbed the fabric dye. You drenched your hair in dye, a dark colour stained into your hair turning it into a deep blue.
The sun was rising now. The memory of the night before hopefully enough to feed the fire inside of you. Their touch, their lips, the still soreness and ghost of his thick cock remained inside you.
Hopefully, it was enough.
The buzz in the city was almost unbearable. One of the most infamous trials in decades resulting in a true trial by combat, both Champions incredibly skilled and renowned fighters. It would have been refreshing to see much of the excitement was over getting to watch The Red Viper in action for their own eyes, but it was also strange. Tyrion was the one seen as guilty, and much of those who are rooting for Prince Oberyn, were the same people shocked and horrified by Tyrions outburst against them at his trial.
He truly was something else, but he was there for a reason. He was a showman for the people to hide his intentions for another. Whispers of strange questions during the trial that made the audience laugh at it’s embarrassment, but you also knew who he was asking them too. That making people giggle at such lewd questions would make it harder for those with scrutinizing eyes to see him seeking the truth for himself in someone else’s silence.
You had little doubt what today would hold, at least to begin with. Gregor Clegane was large with immense brute strength, but he was also a monstrous and unpopular man. Oberyn Martell was quick, smooth in his movements, unexpected in his strategies, and he was also charming with an overwhelmingly handsome appearance that would tempt a crowd. Most of them didn’t know. They didn’t know the harshness behind his eyes, nor the pain he was determined to force upon the larger man.
Showing off his ego was simply a distraction. Watch him, not what he’s doing.
Walking out the door was easier then never coming back in. You hid yourself away, oversized dark clothes with a hooded robe to hide. Strips of your dress torn and wrapped tight to cover feminine features too obvious and bulk what seemed to dainty. The dye was burning and harsh. Liquids used to colour a fabric being drenched into your hair, the dark colour striking against your skin and would be distraction enough. Cutting it was the easy part. Hair grown down from months into more than a year living in brothels, long hair that looked luxurious like the long hair of a high born girl sliced through. Now sitting just above your now tightly hidden tits, less easy to spot or grab.
Both Ellaria and Oberyn knew you wouldn’t be there to see them off. Oberyn making clear to her where she should be able to find you, were he not there. You would be there, if you could summon the courage to do what was going to be necessary, you would make it. But they also didn’t know how you looked as you snuck quietly into the streets.
Plotting your path, you felt angry with every step. Rage consuming you for how such drastic events needed to take place just to give your life any agency, rage for the pain and horror leading to Oberyn doing what he was about to do. And what that action very well may cost him.
You remember thinking this city was disgusting when you arrived, but now you knew it was disgusting for something so much deeper. This was a city filled with those only interested in what they could gain for themselves. What was right, what as honest wasn’t anything these people cared for, people like you, the lives that could be lost for the sake of a families hatred for one of their own. None of that mattered.
And now as you stood, the water shining bright in the distance, and the quiet splash against the rocks and wood the only sound nearby. One ship was all you cared for now. Not a crew in sight, the threat of a kingsguard the only protection needed for just a transportation ship. You could see two, one older man with hard lines framing a dour face, the other younger and more fresh. Looking at his duty in front of him as if he was the last stand between him and, what? The fish below? You couldn’t tell how young he was, but it was more then yourself. Likely a squire for knights growing up and finally getting his chance to do what he saw them as. That was the easy one.
You knelt on the ground watching, breathing heavily with bare hands curled into the dirt. Most of the men you’ve known in your life would see no struggle with what you were going to do, but you grew up in a cage. Locked away for so long, now only needing the bravery to bite back keeping you from flying through that opening.
There was mostly silence between the two men until the younger one let out a dramatic sigh. “Of all the days to guard a Royal ship, I get the one where I’ll miss the Prince’s fight.”
The older mans eyes rolled to the side. “You complaining?”
Fresh face snapping his neck to the side, “No! No it is an honour, it’s my responsibility and I am forever grateful for it, I just-”
Snappy and annoyed he man croaks out “It’s a duty that’s it. We stand here, we watch empty fucking ships just because they belong to some back water Dornes.”
Fresh face fidgeted back and forth, “I- aren’t they called Dornish...sir?” The older man gave a slow moving glare his way, this was a talkative boy and he wanted no part in it. He just stared and glared making the boy fidget more. “Do you think, would it be permitted...Just some privacy so I can,” Gesturing uncomfortably towards his crotch, “I know we are not supposed to leave our posts, but I can’t with someone-”
“Seven hells, just go and piss already.”
Fresh face had only recently taken up his vows, hoping to make his father proud, normally paired with more experienced Kingsguard. It was supposed to be a learning experience, but for the most part he had hardly seen any action or people around here. If these were the traders docks it might have more to see, but this was a stepping stone perhaps? Test his patience for little action and then he will be trusted with more!
The gravel crunching under his heavy boots he felt much lighter. “Sir, I was wondering if-” His companion wasn’t there. Where a tall heavier set man with deep frown lines stood was empty space. Whipping his head back and forth to spot if he had walked anywhere, he could see the gravel just beyond a wall discoloured strangely.
He gulped and shaking hands tried to find a firm grip on his sword but the just hovered over it trembling all the while. The discolour became drenched in a flowing red, stemming up from strayed about feet. Feet and up with a body laying along with it all, his partner laying down into the path of the curving shore. Blood red seeping from just beyond the surface and an image of is partners head laying just too far below the shore. His own hands matching that of Fresh face’s trembling ones only his were reaching out to him.
One step, two steps closer he begin to hold his hand out when a heavy pressure fell onto his back, enough to lurch him forward but still on two feet, but followed was sharp. A sharp sting against his neck, his eyes straining down to see the blade of a dagger digging into his skin, and a shrouded figure against his back as if jumped onto him. “W- What do you wan-”
The blade pressed more with a shush, the voice higher then he expected. Raspy in whispers against his ear. “You see your friend there?” He nodded just once. “The cut on his neck is too deep for him to move anymore. He’s drowning in there. I didn’t need to go that far.” The head turned closer into his as the raspy voice felt more angry. “But I did to show you how far I’m willing to go if you don’t cooperate. Are you going to cooperate?” Scared and shaking he still nodded his head yes, voice too caught in his throat to speak. “I need a way onto that ship without your guards stopping me. How do I do that?”
Fresh face stammered in place, breaths wheezing and nervous sweat pouring from the teens head. He couldn’t feel the heart pounding against his back, too busy frozen in fear until they pressed the blade deep enough to cut just the slightest bit of skin. “Think fast.”
“N- no no, it’s, its just us-Me! Me it’s just me now for most th-the afternoon. There’s a fight-a tria-” A hand not holding a blade leaned in to grip his jaw in warning. “There’s a change in the evening, only crew shows up during the day. If it’s only guards your worried about it has to be done before evening.”
The shrouded figure pushed their head over to the man, his hands now flat on the ground, still.
“Move him.”
He stammered, trying to look back but the blade kept him forward. “He’s out in the open. Move him.” Fresh face nodded and waited to be let go, but wasn’t. The figure just gestured to the body, so slowly he moved. He was strong but it took effort to pull a stiff now dead man off into an unseen corner alley. Finally dumped off the voice rasped again. “I come back later are you going to be the only one here?”
Just as he nodded, the body seemed to move off his back in time for arms to wrap around his head and neck. Maybe if he weren’t so new he would have figured a way to defend himself, but again he only did this to impress his father, not because he was tough. His vision darkened until he slumped against the ground.
Your hand gripped the dagger now with drying blood so tight your knuckles stung. This was it. You couldn’t go back now, the path was laid out for you and now you took it.
A few moments were spent looking at your actions, until you tore your gaze from the open skin covered in blood on the older man, to the younger one now unconscious. Tearing your eyes around you quickly came to your senses and moved. Tearing fabric from the golden cloak on his back, you grimaced as you pulled his mouth open, putting one bunch in before wrapping another strip tight around his mouth entirely, and bound his hands together.
Empty crates, thrown in a dark alley instead of cleaning them up got pulled over and down from their tossed spots, and laid haphazardly over the men.
From the outside it was dark and off in an inconvenient corner. If you walked in, you could see it, but from here it just looked a tad more of a mess then before. It would have to do. Now there was one location you needed to go to. On foot, this far on the seas edge, it would take a while. Longer to make sure no one either saw you, or noticed you.
You said you wouldn’t go. You promised. But you couldn’t end it like this. If you were really to leave this place with such a shattered heart, you wanted to see him one more time. Regardless of what that would mean. So you walked.
The combat arena was a ways off, and you knew it was only a short while before it started. If you were going to see him one last time now would be it. Maybe you should have more faith in his ability, but you also had faith in your Uncle, in Janus. And all his abilities left him with was a mouthful of blood.
You could hear the crowd first. Cheering, yelling and gasps all around. Approaching all you could see was the back of the area holding the crowd. Trying to make yourself as plain looking as possible, the hood of the robe now up, covering your hair and keeping a shadow on part of your face. For once, your heart pounded, not out of fear from being caught, but for what you were walking in on.
There were sectioned areas beyond the arena for each side of the fight, you could see Ellaria standing tall. Her face was too far to see but you could read her regardless. Still like she was stuck in place, and her body taught with unease.
Tyrion Lannister stood not to far from her. Far shorter then anyone else, but still a man. Just a man. Looking somewhat like you actually, trapped somewhere you had no control over. No matter the outcome, he would have to find a way out too. You hope it won’t involve bloodshed like you, but in this place, that seemed to be the only real solution.
Finally, your side steps came across the outskirt just enough to see movement. Movement, and yelling. You knew his voice, and you finally found footing. Maybe too out in the open, too close to where Lord Tywin could see you, but it didn’t matter.
The large hulk of a man already struggling on the ground trying to push up only to be pierced back down by Oberyns spear. Blood spurting from the wound. The crowd yells in awe as if this was a game still. As if with a spear to the chest Oberyn Martell hadn’t yelled about this man murdering his sisters children.
The Mountain struggled to move, seemed to sputter flecks of blood, with slight gasps. A slice also on his leg bled. Such a beast unable to get up and power through despite widespread talk of being an unstoppable force. What hulking men like The Mountain don’t realize though, is that venom from a Viper is sneaky and cruel. When a Viper bites you, it doesn’t gash and bleed over the floor, it seeps into your blood and strangles you from within. Crawls throughout your body and leaves it’s essence wherever your blood takes it.
Oberyn had told you, posion is more useful when you can’t see it. That doesn’t have to be a weapon just on it’s own, and he also told you some men deserve a slow creeping agony.
The Mountain kept struggling to keep grounded, but Oberyn paced. His spear keeping a home in his chest dripping the wound with a searing fire. It wasn’t enough though. A burning horrid rage had built, and grasped the metal of the rail in front of you, grip tight as red filled more then just The Mountains insides. It filled Oberyn Martell’s eyes with a different kind of agony. One far more angry.
“You can’t die yet, you haven’t confessed.” He yanked the spear from his chest, blood dripping from the end of it.
Don’t do this. Don’t put everything you’ve worked towards fall apart now, you thought. But he kept going. Demanding the mumbling dying monster on the ground say it. “Say her name. Elia Martell. You raped her, you killed her children.”
Your lungs constricted and your hands shook regardless of how tight you held on. Oberyn turned to the man who created this rage. Tywin Lannister sat in the judging seats watching with a his own masked rage. “Who gave you the order?”
Oberyn pointing directly to Tywin. He had no desire to hide the crimes of the elder Lannister. “Who gave you the order?”
He yelled he demanded. “You raped her!”
There was a stark silence in the audience, this was no longer a trial, this was revenge.
“You murdered her!”
Blood rushed so loudly in your veins it felt like you could pass out.
“You killed her children!”
The Viper, hissing and snapping as it overtook the man. Oberyn letting his rage fill him, but there was movement amongst the Mountains. Twitches and flickers of movement as the man found a sense of reality once more. “Say it!”
The Mountain had a mouth once more. “Elia Martell.”
Your entire body jerked, mouth dropping open with a silenced gasp of horror. Oberyn was too close, too close and too blinded by the red of the Viper to see it before the Mountain knocked him to the ground. His disgusting bloody figure covered over as Oberyn grasped at him.
“I killed her children, then I raped her.”
You couldn’t see, you couldn’t see beyond the coldness in your body shaking you from your core, as the Mountain tried to find a grasp on Oberyns skull. Brute strength, Mountains are strong creatures of nature.
Oberyn was too shadowed by a monster to see, all to make out was part of his torso and head, enough to see the arm of that side grasping. “Then I smashed her head in like this!”
It was too late. Blood now was your own vision. The only man who cared in your entire life had died with blood spurting from his mouth as all you could do was turn to watch from atop your escaping horse. That blood has haunted you ever since. You saw the blood every night. You didn’t sleep beacuse of that blood.
Oberyn was there. He decided for himself that you meant something. Not just for some grand scheme for power that had so far tossed you around, no. You meant something to him, something that felt stronger and unique from the love you held for your Uncle. Your love towards Oberyn was a love that felt like future. Was that how he saw you? Felt for you? You didn’t know. All you could see was the blood.
Gasps of horror filled the arena, but not screams. Just blood. But not from the Prince of Dorne.
The Mountain remained hovered in his position but empty was the space below him. Blood dripping from his neck, just like what you forced on the man you killed. Sputtering and unable to control his body.
Above him, stood not a Viper blinded by rage, but a man. One you knew. Oberyn stood over him chest heaving his entire body with each movement, his teeth clenched and eyes still. But he was there. You could only see an arm and flashes of his body on the ground, but he stood, his face without massacre, his skull sat atop his head.
And a blade in is hand. A dagger, metal seared with fresh blood, his hand gripping the hilt yellows draping around it, and if you were to guess, a sun pierced by an arrow at the hilt. Only his, was soaked in a vipers cruel venom.
The Mountain hovered as he strained to gasp before falling in a collapse that echoed throughout. Oberyn approached and kicked with force to flop the man onto his back. The man not moving.
Oberyn had no eyes for glory. He looked at one man and one man only. Tywin Lannister sat in his seat, a face desperate to erupt, but could do nothing now. Slow steps forward Oberyn walked close to where the crowd around him sat.
“The Gods made their judgment.” Oberyn’s voice a grasping husky tone, unblinking at the man before him now. “They’ve seen the truth in your son.” His head turned to look at the bleeding lump on the ground. “Gregor Clegane however,” He turned back to Tywin, Oberyns chin high and spitting words back at him. “Your men, you, on the other hand. Your crimes have been judged guilty. And the Mountain has paid for his sins with his life.”
The two stared at one another. Tywin, finally, knew what it felt like to be trapped with no choice. So he spoke. Tywin stood up, and directed his eyes towards his son. The man he so desperately tried against. They looked one another in the eyes, and finally, presiding judge, Lord Tywin Lannister made the final verdict.
“The Gods have made their will known. Tyrion Lannister, in the name of King Tommen of the House Baratheon, First of His Name, you are hereby, declared innocent.”
The crowd was silent at first, and just as quickly, it erupted. The entire crowd on it’s feet, an overwhelming volume of cheering. A city once so ready to side against a man now cheered. Was it for him, or was it for the show? You didn’t know.
Your body loosened, the trembling and cold slowed down and turned to a warmer relief. Tears built up in your eyes and for now you let them. You had to go. The city was here, and your path still lay empty. You were told to get on the ship, and it was ready, you just had to get there.
It was faint, still a distance between you, but it felt like that first day in the brothel, peeking at the doors threshold watching Oberyn Martell risen up against the blood of a Lannister. The Mountain was just the same. A man so willing to commit monstrous crimes for the Lions that he was simply as one of them.
Oberyn and you looked at each other before he made his way to Ellaria. Body more relaxed, and a softer gaze towards you. He gave a single nod, and so did you. You yearned to stay, to revel in the moment and be with them, but you couldn’t.
Your window of opportunity was closing. Tearing your eyes away from him you turned away. Blood pumping in your ears you saw them everywhere, cloaks of gold everywhere. You don’t know how he knew today was the day you didn’t know, but the Kingsguard now knew your face, some of them too well.
And no amount of fake flattery and fake pleasure would make any of these men disobey an order from the Hand of the King. Your hood stayed up, and your head down enough to maybe get by. Crowds of people swarming the streets of Kings Landing and gold was everywhere. You needed the backstreets. Pacing down the stone path there was dim alley across from you that led away from most general population, it was risky but you knew exactly how to sneak your way down to the docks from there.
Dim and damp, water dripping from overhangs forming puddles below your feet. Each step was far, your toes hitting down first followed by the slow descent of the rest of your foot, not wanting to draw noise to yourself. The Street of Silk has it’s typical bustle of people, so you hung by the entrance of the alley, stretching your neck out so only a peek of your face could be really seen.
The faint carving of a mocking bird sat on the stone wall just within your view and so did the gold. Two Kingsguard stood atop the main step one with arms crossed and the other leaning back letting the other speak as his hand remained on his sword hilt. Olyvar stood at the open entrance seemingly reasoning with their demands, demands you suspect were to come in and search for me.
His head shook and a hand gestured to the other end of he street in frustration. The two glanced over before conferring quietly with each other. As Olyvar shook his head in dismay, his sight strayed far enough to catch yours.
Legs suddenly itching to move, one hand perched onto the walls edge as if to push off. His chin lifting higher as his eyes squinted, debating his allegiance when it was too late. The Kingsguard looking to see what caught his eye more then their interrogation, and there you were.
So you ran, and they followed. You had one advantage of being smaller, your lack of armour making it easy to slide between people but the crowd begun to part as yelling orders to stop were thrown down the way. The clang of metal closing in and thuds of running overpowering the sound of your panting.
People were being shoved just to get out of your way, chattering and protesting drawing more attention to you. Turning quick and trying to make it to a side street, you could see a stand of pomegranates just before the opening. Knocking it over a sea of bright fruit rolled down just distractedly enough that you slid into the alley. Throwing your body you crouched behind a series of crates.
You could hear the metal boots clanging as they passed by one end, but the voices of more on the other side came into earshot. Just beyond the other side of the street, there was enough leverage that if you got a running start you may be able to hop over a small wall.
There wasn’t much more time you could spend in the streets until kingsguard finally made their way to the docks before you did, and there was too long of a stretch between the entrance and inside the ship to go unseen if they were already there. Slowly pulling the robe off, it left you hopefully able to run a bit faster, but you risked being seen by the men now standing in the area asking if someone matching your general description has been around. You needed them to think you were still hiding in the area not making a break for the sea.
But, as it turns out, just maybe Varys hadn’t lied about helping you escape. A small child, dirty and unkempt had been sitting near where you were crouched, searching for valuables in the crates. As you glanced at him, he looked up at you. Your head tilted to the side, eyes widened in warning as you slowly brought a finger up to your lips.
The child though, narrowed his eyes at you in thought, before getting up. The child was so small that even fully on his two feet he barley reached the top of your head lower to the ground. Pulling something out of the pocket of his pants, he handed you a small roll of parchment.
He watched you look at it long enough to see the wax holding it sealed. Red wax, with a three headed dragon in the middle of it. Red wax as its background not black. The metal. It was the same as the metal Varys had slipped you.
You shot your head up to look shocked at the child, who just nodded yes. Copying you he put a finger up to his lips before nodding over to the opening of the alley. As you both approached, the kid made a dash. Knocking himself into the Kingsguard, and grabbing a pouch no doubt filled with gold. The running off in the opposite direction towards the city centre. Both men shouted at him and took off to catch what they assumed was just a terrible desperate little thief.
That sneaky bald headed spider. Truly was always watching.
So you took off running once more. It was easy from there. The poorer the area you passed the less you were to run into someone for you. You skid to a stop, pressing your hands against a wall corner and looked towards the docks.
The ship in question did indeed have crew milling about the area. You glanced to the barley visible entrance where your crimes lay, and to their previous station. You kept your body low, casual as you didn’t look at those you passed. Hoping someone on board did know what you were doing there.
Close in your view now as a man perched right on the edge of the ship over the dock, familiar black curls on his head raised enough to see brown eyes looking at you quickly up and down your person as understanding floated into them.
Moving just enough to meet where you were, you took a step forward as well before distinct questioning voices approached. Both you and the man seeing the golden cloaks you had come to so terribly despise. There was little time for you to think, the man had reached out his arm and pulled you up to the open sides.
It was just enough to give you the space to fling your legs over the side. With little grace you simple let yourself drop, your hands taking the weight of the fall onto your side. The slam still knocked your head against the wooden deck. Sliding one stinging hand to grasp part of your head as your ears rung.
Voices sounding like they were underwater , or you were. There were three and they were all close enough to shake yourself out of how dizzy you felt. Back leaning against the side, kneels pulled up to your chest as you forced slow breaths instead of the frenzied one your pounding heart demanded. One hand had the handle of the dagger with an unnecessarily tight grip.
An accent voice said something that you could really only make words out from the fog inside your head. “Thief” and “flea” something something “took off”.
You’re body finally sunk from its tension as you heard one patronizing voice interrupt the other. “We ask that you report any more incidents from this...thief... at once if any should occur. This is a private matter of the Crown.”
The ringing dimmed to a stop finally. “Whatever his Lordship commands.” Now that was much more patronizing, but it made you smirk. Picturing the guards no doubt leaving with insulted faces.
With a thud, your head tapped against its resting place behind you, eyes shutting as you let all the air out. Hand having yet to let go of the dagger as your curled fingers creaked from the tightness of your grip. It almost felt like a trick, a trap set now ready to sail you off and lock you away for use elsewhere. Nothing about what you had done and seen today felt real.
Opening your eyes as you exhaled audibly once more, you looked up to find the same man, features you now see more clearly as quite Rhoynish. Your steel gaze followed his body squatting down to your level. A soft smile on his face. “Lady Slate. My name is Yandry, Acting Captain of this vessel. I’ve looked forward to your arrival.”
You almost felt frozen, unsure of what you were supposed to do. Your hope went as far as getting to the ship, but your mind was mostly plagued with what if you got caught instead. Preparing as if you wouldn’t possibly get this far.
Yandry seemed to catch on to your hesitation. “You have been through a lot, my lady. But I promise you, you’re safe aboard here.” His gaze looked down to your hand and you lurched your body away from him. Putting his palm out slowly, “No harm will come to you here, I won’t ask for you to give that up. But I will ask that you come with me, get you somewhere less out in the open. At least while we remain in the capitol.”
Finally you nodded. Hand letting go of the dagger, you tell him your name. “No need for formalities. Dead women can’t hold titles afterall.” And finally put your hand in his.
Yandry smiles, “Let’s get you off the floor shall we?” Pulling you up you put a hand bracing on the banister to steady your other half. Walking down the length of the open deck, he introduced names as he passed by, each man polite and welcoming. “We have an unused cabin you can rest in.”
You raised your eyebrows in question. “Ellaria was adamant you be allowed to have your own space if you so choose. Doesn’t want you to feel trapped in with her and Prince Oberyn should you need some privacy.”
You nodded as he slowed his pace slightly, just before steps downwards into the expansive ship. “The Prince, would you-” He looked away and his hand meaningless gestured into the air trying to come up with the right words. “The fight, do you know if he,” trailing himself off as if not wanting to curse the outcome by simply speaking its possibility.
You nodded this time more firmly. Not so much a smile, but a bit more brightness on your face. “He did.” Yandrys shoulders relaxed as you restarted your path, “I’m not sure who’s more angry. Lady Cersei for picking the losing Champion, or Lord Tywin for being outsmarted by him.”
Nudging you in through the hall doors before him, he chuckled. “Pissing off Lannisters isn’t exactly something he is unfamiliar with.”
Leading you into a small cabin, he stood by the door to give you space to investigate. “It’s smaller than Prince Oberyn and Ellaria’s quarters, but it’s comfortable enough.” He watched as your back stayed facing towards him.
Looking around the room, once again. Like it was fake. Or a trick. Like this would wash away and you would be somewhere trapped once more, maybe worse. But you weren’t, at least not now. You spun quickly to face him, “I-” there was too much to ask, and not enough words in your mouth to say them. “Thank you.”
Yandry took the difficulty making eye contact and the whispered thanks as his cue to go. If the Prince had indeed won the trial by combat, then he would be undoubtedly demanding they leave sooner rather then later. “Until we set sail, I suggest trying to stay out of sight on the main deck. Those Kingsguard do like to hover. But anything you need, just find any of us and ask.”
Watching you nod once more, he quietly shut the door behind him. Leaving you in the silence, only the faint sounds of splashing rocks on the shore and loud jabber from the crew muffling into the walls.
Slowly you raised the dagger out of it’s hold, tenderly grasping it in your fingers as you looked at the blade. Blood now dried and stained over the metal, now shot up and splashed in your face once more. This time the blood wasn’t the distant image of a man bleeding out as you ran off on horse. No this time was different.
The blood infecting the water just above a drowning man, the splatter as it fell all over the ground with a single slash. Blood splattering up and spraying through the air as the spear was both plunged and pulled from the Mountains chest. And the blood pouring onto the ground as the Mountain lost consciousness.
But you weren’t a Viper. You weren’t anything anymore. Just a girl who sliced a mans neck open.
Burning your hand you tossed the dagger onto the table in front of you. The clank as it landed and laying unceremoniously amongst the other amenities. It was nothing to the state of this room, but the blood still haunted you.
Your heart pounded harder and harder, strength losing you as you stumbled back into the edge of the bed behind. You didn’t even make it, you just stopped fighting it, and slid onto the ground in front of it. If this were a trap, then you would simply wake back up in it’s nightmare. Maybe you should. Maybe this fantasy was all in your head.
It was hard to tell, you felt a dense fog forming in your head, and before you knew it, the need to sleep begun to pull you under it’s spell you before you could spiral any further. You were exhausted, eyes dipping shut. The faint yelling of Oberyn demanding him to “say her name” “Elia Martell” echoing through your mind. Maybe you imagined that too.
If you did, it didn’t matter. Sleep overtook you before it could linger any longer.
Your dreams were scattered, images of blood taken by your hands morphed into a monstrous void, memory of Oberyn kicking over the Mountain shifted into a nightmare of watching his skull crushed beneath his opponents hands, an echo of Ellaria’s screams before fading once more. The sea of faces and touches of men in brothels seared your skin as the dreams passed you by, watchful eyes and whispers surrounding you. The scene playing in front of you, your father, the bruises, the degradation, the horror, the swords plunging into an empty bed and the spear through your Uncle’s body. You slipped between it all as the voices faded in and out. Some sounded familiar, some sounded even closer then others, but it all swirled around you until you felt like you had fallen backward. Careening into the void once more before the lurch of your heart brought you back.
The cabin. Now splayed out differently then you remembered, you slowly lifted your head to see instead of the floor you fell against, you were laid out gently on the bed, a thin sheet over top you. Sitting up, the sheet pooled in your lap, letting you see your clothes had been changed and the blood and grime on your body cleaned.
The ship seemed to sway with a natural flow as the sound of water muffled through the walls. Slowly you slipped out of the bed and stood up. The room looked about the same, only with some food and water left for you on the table. Throat dry you easily swallowed down the water, but you eyes were not on the food, but of the dagger laid neatly on the table as well. The blood on the dagger now dried, staining the metal with your crime. Alongside it were the only 2 belongings you had now. The small note with the strange wax seal, untouched for you to read still, and the metal sigil. The same crest painted across it, and still leaving you wondering just how little of this world’s plans you may never know.
The note and metal sigil found a place in the neatly cropped pants placed on you in your sleep, but your hands hovered over the dagger. Trembling as you picked it up, the decorative handle shining brightly against the blade covered in filth. The blood in your eyes no longer a reminder of your own loss, but now of your actions.
It was a good few minutes you stood, hands gently holding each end of the blade before you looked up again. There was a slight view of the bright sun against blue water from the small windows looking out, beckoning you to come see it.
Tucking the dagger away on you, you slowly made your way to push open the door. Crew was scattered about doing their duties, some greeting you with a polite hello, others simply nodding before turning their attention back to their duties.
The steps up to the deck felt almost too bright. The sun once so hard to see from the inner depths of the brothels and dim streets now fell unhindered on the deck above. The blue in the sky unobstructed by any cloud, it was by all accounts beautiful. Each step you took up the sunshine seemed to get too bright, like it penetrated right through your eyes and tried to blind you.
The air once you reached the deck was crisp, fresh and clean as the ship sailed on the open water. The sound of the waves filled your ears with a clarity you’ve never before experienced. Trapped within walls and surrounded by woods and forests or dirty streets, the water now sounded so loud. The clean air smelling so different, as if it let you breathe easier.
Crew were more about on the deck, talking and shouting, some of which you recognized but none of these Dornish crew were the ones you wanted to see. Near the back of the ship, you found yourself stepping towards the barrister. Land nowhere near in sight, not a hint of Kings Landing, so why did you not feel better?
Why did you still see the blood? You hadn’t even realized it before it was in your hands once more, but you began to pull the dagger out. Eyes on the vast open water shooting down to the metal. Fingertips just barley holding onto each far end, but the blood staining the blade held firm. It stained the blade dirty, as if mocking you. It screamed at you. You cannot just cleanse your own sins by cleaning it, maybe you shouldn’t. Maybe you deserve the reminder.
You couldn’t be sure how long it was you stood there, blade in your hands and eyes trained on the blood just as much as your mind saw the blood in your memory. The sip of water from earlier had long since left you parched but you felt unable to move. Let your throat ache and burn raw.
Small parts of your brain begged to know where Oberyn and Ellaria were. Maybe they weren’t on this ship, maybe they wanted to travel home away from you, or hadn’t even left Kings Landing, celebrating Oberyns victory over the cruel man with blood on his hands. It was hard to focus on them though, not while you stared at the blade.
Your breathing quickened as you stood for longer, heart pumping blood furiously as your dreams flashed in front of you as real as they felt then. Your eyes stung with unshed tears as your fingers gripped tighter. Were you trembling or was your vision just shaky from tension?
You wanted to drop it, throw it into the sea, break it apart or let it finish your sins by washing you away too, but none of that happened. In fact, the trembling stopped.
A large, warm hand gripped the top of yours on the dagger handle, and a body hovered over you from behind. The hand prying your fingers out of the daggers grasp and it slipped it away from you, tucking it somewhere you couldn’t see.
The hands spun you around to face their owner. Oberyn’s eyes reflected so beautifully in the sunlight, the brown now stark and full of colour like the rest of him. His face watching the tears in your eyes desperate to let go, the shake in your hands tremble in your entire body. One hand tilted your chin up to look him in the eye as your hands tried to find a home on his chest, but the tremble turned to a shake.
The images were too real, and the blood you shed felt too present. All at once you felt yourself falling, onto to be caught in Oberyns arms. Your face now tucked into his chest, protected from the world as his lips found the top of your head, whispers of calm nothings falling onto deaf ears as the tears fell.
It was almost too much. What was done was too much right then, and it all spilt over as you cried into his arms. Mutterings of your name came through the noise, but he demanded nothing.
You don’t know the last time true tears came out like this, and you don’t know how long they fell, but Oberyn stayed firmly with you in his grasp until they had finally stopped. Your watery red eyes looking up into his handsome face as one of your own hands cupped his cheek. And in a chaste kiss, a kiss much more for long lovers then for whores, his lips found yours.
This time as you stood at the ships end, looking out in the water, Oberyns arms were around your front, at least one on you at all times. He had made a quiet request to a passing crewman as his thumbs were stroking away the scattered tears still on your face before you had found yourselves standing as such.
Now one such hand was toying with the shorter strands of hair now sitting loose and free. Chuckling at the odd colour now firmly dyed in it, “Not exactly what I remember your hair looking like all those years ago, but I like this far better then the absurdly long light hair you tried to hide under.”
Your own fingers came to toy with the end of the strands his own held, “I thought I should just wash it out, but I don’t know. The blue could be interesting.”
“Not a very Westerosi colour, that’s for certain.” Both you and Oberyn smiled at the approaching voice. Ellaria was almost more beautiful now then in the drab capitol. Her and Oberyn matched in pastels that let their skin breathe in the open air, and her face lit up just as much as the sun.
Oberyns hands slipped from your body as you and Ellaria fell into each others embrace. Her lips wasting no time finding yours, and you returned just as much. Both of you pulling apart only when your smiles made the kiss impossible to continue.
Her arms around you as you walked back over to Oberyn, him pulling you back into his chest once more as Ellaria hugged into his side, with her touch still on you. “We could pass you off as Tyroshi, a beautiful girl from Tyrosh travelled all the way to Dorne to explore the world and fell in love with more than just the city.”
You could feel Oberyns chest vibrate in chuckles, his own deeper voice much closer to your ear, “Doran and I have discussed a few options, for now though that may not be such a bad idea.” His head tilted so he could lean into Ellaria’s, pressing his lips against her hair. “Keeping your identity to just a few of us, until we figure out the safest way to protect you without having to hide you.”
You sagged slightly in his hold, the very concept loomed over your existence. Ellaria was quick to elaborate though, “Not like that, sweet girl. With us, in Dorne you are free to be yourself, he and Doran just need to make sure you are also safe to those outside of our own borders.”
Doran was the one you had met when you were younger. You remember him being kind and welcoming, but also distant and stoic. In many ways he was a lot like the reputation most Northerners get, quiet and guarded many but he was also warm to those he loves. If he and Oberyn had discussed what to do about telling people your real identity, then he must be willing to welcome you into his home. At least into Dorne.
Your home though, you hadn’t really had one before. Not one that felt like what home is supposed too. “And when I’m in Dorne, where...where am I to stay? Where would I go?”
There was a pause, long enough to get you to turn and look at the pair. Ellaria had a hand on her mouth covering her laughter as she looked at Oberyns offended but confused face. He leaned into you, his eyes narrowing almost playfully. “I’m not sure I made it quite clear little girl, but you,” he yanked you in close by your hips, his nose bumping yours as you fell into his personal space. “Are staying with us, with me and Ellaria. In our home. Your home.” His nose rubbed against yours as his hands now caressed the skin under your shirt just slightly. “I told you, the only thing I wanted from you was you heart. And there's nowhere I’d rather keep that, then with me where it belongs.”
Reaching out blindly you felt Ellaria’s smooth hand find your fingers, and pulled her closer, her hands wrapping around your stomach behind you, and you moved to cup the sides of Oberyns face. “I don’t know what the future holds for me, or what it wants from me, but just promise me I have a place with you at the end of it all.”
Oberyn cupped your face to match, pulling you up to look at his eyes, your name rolling gently off of his tongue. “Your home is with us, no matter what. I promise.”
As his lips found yours, tongue teasing and tracing yours, Ellaria’s hands traced along your torso, her own lips gently pressing against the side of your neck. Your head growing light with the need to breathe, you only could just pull from Oberyns mouth trying to mould yours to stay with his. He leaned in and bit at your bottom lip, tugging at it and watching it bounce back into place as you giggled at his greed.
Dorne would fade into view eventually, as would plans begin to form once more. The world around you three raged regardless of these moments together and it will demand your attention one way or another. The note, the sigil both sat on your person to one day be called upon, but that’s not what mattered now. Not this moment you spent in the arms of two people finally giving you love. For now, your morning was spent looking out into a bright blue water with the sun lighting the sky brighter then you’ve ever known.
Your fate was unknown, but in the arms of Oberyn Martell, you knew he wouldn’t let go of those he loves without a fight.
#oberyn martell x reader#oberyn martell imagine#oberyn martell x female reader#Oberyn Martell x reader x Ellaria Sand#Oberyn Martell x female reader x Ellaria Sand#Oberyn Martell x you x Ellaria Sand#game of thrones fanfiction#a song of ice and fire fanfiction#oberyn martell fanfiction
345 notes
·
View notes
Text
Restoration (Chapter 3)
I have no idea how I keep making the chapters even longer. I just somehow do. But, enjoy!
Word Count: 4,600
CW: Fear, mentions of death, panic attacks, reference to someone as an “it”, overthinking, slight trigger warnings
3-Nathan
When my mom finally came home from work yesterday, I was expecting her to get her plate of dinner and sit down on the couch putting on The Golden Girls like she usually does. What I wasn’t expecting was that she’d be getting a call from my teacher Mrs. Kay. The worst part about it was that they acted like they were such friends. Joking around and laughing. Had they even met each other? Most likely if my mom had kept it a secret that Mrs. Kay actually knew what happened to us in the past. Was mom the one who put me in that horrid class? No, she wouldn’t do anything against my will. Not unless she knew I would be ready for it.
They had talked on the phone for what seemed like hours. I was guessing Mrs. Kay was asking questions about me since my mom had mentioned me multiple times in their conversation, but I was raised not to ever eavesdrop. As I would be punished accordingly. But I wasn’t in that hell hole anymore. And I guess my fear was still pretty bad if I still thought I would be tortured for listening in on a conversation. What made anyone think I could even go to school with giants?
When I had woken up the next morning, it was to the sweet smell of my moms famous pancakes. The one dad always loved before we were kidnapped. I cringed at the thought, but forced myself out of bed and ready for the day, putting on a light purple shirt with a button up, blue sweater my mom bought me last month, and black jeans. I never wear anything that shows my arms. For good reason too.
I rushed down to the kitchen, where my mom had already place my plate on the very right edge of the kitchen island, giving a happy smile to me, “Morning, Sweetie.”
“What the occasion mom?” I laughed, taking my seat and staring down the pancake on my plate. She had always made them the best. Incomparable to even IHop’s pancakes.
“Oh well, I’m sure you can guess why. Last night I was told you were doing a little project with someone. As far as I knew you hadn’t made any friends, so I was getting worried, but now I know you were just embarrassed to tell me.” She giggled. What? Was she talking about Ryker. Oh no. No. Nononono. Not in a million years would I ever trust a giant ever again. Not after what they put my mom and I through.
“N-No! We’re not f-f-friends.” I stuttered, suddenly feeling bad for saying it out loud. Why? I was only speaking the truth. But that didn’t leave a very satisfying taste in my mouth once the words rolled of my tongue.
“Nate, your teacher told me some interesting things about that boy. Ryder was it? He really does sound like a nice guy. Maybe give him a chance? I know it’s hard for you honey.” She hugged me, her grip loose and weak, and planted a kiss on my forehead, giving a sad smile before digging into her breakfast. Now even my mom was saying that he was really nice. How was I supposed to believe that? For all I know all of those acts could have been acting. The little incident at lunch, him trying to talk to me, what if he was just trying to gain my trust to eventually backstab me? Just the thought was making my hands sake as I reached for my fork. I’d only have to hope that today doesn’t go wrong.
Mrs. Kay had told Ryker and I before we left to meet in her room, or more specifically the little office that was in her classroom. It was right by the many newsletters and papers that hung on to the wall presenting various fights and political issues in the city. I try not to pay attention, but we all knew that there was a growing number of riots all around from bother giants and humans.
I headed into her room, seeing that her room was crowded with what seemed like hundred of other students trying to find their partner. I was almost stepped on a few times had I not been practically running to get to the mini office in the back of the classroom. I guess that was just pure luck. Now I just have to hope that that luck pays off in here.
Inside, there was a teacher desk where currently my teacher was sitting at, looking at something on her computer. I turned my gaze somewhere else, seeing that there were two student desks, both with the same elevators for a human to get on top of one. Ryker was sitting at the one on the far right. There were piles of paper on the floor that looked like it needed to be read through and put in order and graded, and some magazines with a picture of one of the people from the riots on the front cover.
A quick glance back to the crowded room, and I was now face first with the elevator I was guessing I was supposed to take. Mrs. Kay nor Ryker even knew I was here, so if I wanted to back out and hide in the bathroom, now would be the time. Let’s see, if I did decide to hide in restrooms, someone is bound to find me and take me to the principal, but at least I wouldn’t be taken around everywhere like some pet, but my mom would hear about it and she would be mad at me. If I didn’t hide, Ryker would most likely try to keep talking to me and eventually forget I was even there. Maybe. If he doesn’t forget I’m there, he might want to mess around with my like I’m some kind of toy or plaything.
Both options were equally as bad. A tough decision to make, but I don’t exactly want my mother to have gone through all of this trouble for me to have a “normal” life, just for me to quit not even a quarter of the way through. That was cruel. But on the other hand, it would be even more cruel to be subdued to that same torture for who knows how long again. Forget it. Everyone’s going through all of this just for me, so I’ll make sure it’s not in vain. Maybe. If I can get through this.
I walked into the elevator, hand hovering over the same dreadful button I see everyday. I suck in a deep breath, pressing the buttons before changing my mind, and instantly regretting every single one of my choices. Wouldn’t I just be bothering these people? Ryker wouldn’t be bothered by me? As far as I know he’s already frustrated with me not even talking to him, and now I have to stick with him the entire school day in order for me to make it out alive. Maybe even literally.
Unconsciously, I pressed my back up against the back elevator wall, sliding down and holding my head between my knees. Everything felt dizzy, and it wasn’t because of my fear of heights. Was I having a panic attack? No, I would be breathing harder and I wouldn’t be able to think. It was just a little breakdown. In front of my teacher and potential kidnapper. Great introduction for the first day, Nathan. I hissed in my head, trying to stand back up, using the railing to hold myself up on shaky legs. There were a pair of eyes on me, and oddly enough it didn’t feel like a stab right to my back. No time to think about that when I was struggling to just keep my balance.
After struggling to regain my balance, I looked out where the elevator gate was open, revealing a huge black box I’m pretty sure was Ryker’s phone, his hand grabbing it and stuffing it in his pocket. I let out a quiet squeak as his hand moved fast, making me instinctively move back, and once again my back was pressed up against the wall. I made the wrong decision.
My heart was beating fast, and my thoughts were all jumbled up. Any chance of thinking clearly was gone, and now I was trapped inside the elevator unless they wanted to force me out. How can I become friends with someone who was much, much bigger than I was? Would he even want to? Or was he like those sadistic jerks that just want to mess around and act like we were just toys?
There were muffled voices outside, but I wasn’t paying attention to what they were saying, more worried about how I would get out of here. I had calmed down enough to somewhat get thoughts through. If I make a run for it they could easily stop me. If I don't’ run they’ll force me out and punish me for not listening. Wait no- It’s a school why would they hurt a student? Were they even allowed to? Oh wait that’s off topic-
“Hey, um, Nathan? Are you okay?” It was Ryker’s voice. Just as soft as I remember. Too bad I was not in any condition to answer. I most definitely was not okay. Not in the least, and yet I still somehow found myself in this situation. If anything, him knowing I was there only made my heart race faster and my trembling even more severe.
The room stayed silent for a while as I calmed myself down. The first bell rang, signaling that there were five minutes until first period started, and I immediacy felt regret. I was going to make him late because I couldn’t even make it past this stupid elevator. Great. Even more guilt. But even more of a reason for me to get out. I was calmed down enough, and surprisingly I didn’t have a complete panic attack. Now the only thing I have to get past was how he would be carrying me.
Taking one step at a time, I made my way to right in front of Ryker, occasionally tripping over my own feet and catching my balance at the last second, but I made it. I never lifted up my head, scared that I would lose any and all confidence that remained in me if we hade made eye contact. Especially when I had the feeling he would know that I was really, really terrified for my life.
“Ryker? You can handle the rest?” I hear Mrs. Kays ecstatic voice, typing away at her computer. I jumped seeing him move his hand slightly towards me, shutting my eyes tightly and expecting for him to grab me like I used to be, or even dangled in the slightest, but it never came. To my complete and utter shock, he laid his hand palm up on the very edge of the desk, waiting for me to approach. I gulped. I had never done this before.
I had always been grabbed or dangled around, never given the option of being held. It was either in a tight fist that usually resulted in a few broken ribs, or casually being used as a toy for kids. I shuddered at the memory.
Still, this was a surprise. I wasn’t expecting this, and now I felt insecure about how to get on. Do I just jump? Walk? Run? I mean the guy from yesterday had just dragged me on, so this is technically my first time. He just jumped right on. Could I do the same? But Ryker knows Lucky. He doesn’t know me. Maybe only people who Ryker knows are allowed to do that.
Curse my overthinking.
I waited for Ryker to get impatient with me, but it never happened. His hand stayed still, never once reaching for me in anticipation. Maybe a minute had gone by. Th longest minute of my life, but that’s when he eventually gave a sympathetic look towards me, “Have you done this before?” Not willingly, no.
I shook my head almost immediately with no hesitation, feeling terrible for making him wait this long. I dug my head in my hands, feeling all the extra wight of guilt on my shoulders. I’m ruining everything.
“No it’s… it’s fine. Just whatever makes you comfortable.” He told me, a hint of sadness in his tone. What would he sad about?
I took shaky steps to the edge, seeing how I should do this and eventually just walking on. I mean, it worked out, but I fell face first into the fleshy surface. Somehow this wasn’t the first time that I’ve face planted into Ryker’s palm. He let out a chuckle, “You okay?”
How do I even begin to answer? Words were not enough to express the amount of fear that was building up inside me. Not even enough to describe red my face turned from embarrassment. This was the worst feeling ever, but I still managed a weak nod before settling in the center of his hand, trying to stay away from all possible ways to fall down to my imminent death. Not something I would like to enjoy.
He slowly stood up, grabbed his backpack and headed down the hall to his next class that really wasn’t even that far from this one. At least it wasn’t far for him.
There were tons of students in this class, making me feel insecure and tiny. I wasn’t used to being around this many giants. Especially ones that seemed to notice me and give out looks. But they weren’t directed to me. All directed to Ryker, who just sighed and headed to his seat like he didn’t have a care in the world how others looked at him like he was some wild animal. How does he do that?
I was expecting him to just throw me onto the desk, but he let his palm down, letting me get off safely without spraining an ankle or getting the wind knocked out of me. I would have thanked him had I not been terrified. I stood awkwardly on his desk, my thoughts a jumbled up mess. What do I do? I mean of course I have my own work to do on the computers we were given, but I was talking about what do I do now that I was on the desk.
Ryker was pulling out a journal and a book from his backpack and placed them near me, but not so close that I jumped in fear of him dropping that onto me. He glanced in my direction, flashed a smile and dug out whatever else he needed for this class. I looked down, noticing that I was pretty much smack in the middle of his desk. I was in his way.
Before my knees gave out on me, I hurried to the edge of the desk, and forced myself not to look down at the impossible height I was at. I felt stares, but most weren’t directed at me. I groaned to myself, hating the fact that I was being watched. They were just curious, but I’d rather not have to worry about someone constantly having me under their eye. It didn’t feel right.
The final bell rang, and that’s when class had started.
I didn’t even realize how shaky I was until Ryker lightly tapped on the desk in front of me, making me flinch and avert my attention to him. He flashed a sad smile, giving a thumb up as if asking if I was okay. I most definitely was not, but I forced myself to give a shaky nod and pulled out my computer.
Every so often I would jump or react when he had moved to grab something near me or was just flipping a page. I was doing a pretty good job since I haven’t ran off yet. Not that I could without having twenty pairs of eyes on me. Otherwise, everything was going great.
In all honesty, it really wasn’t too bad if I just did the same things over and over again. Ryker took me to his classes, I had somehow never failed to fall face first the second I took a step onto his palm, resulting in him asking if I was okay. During his classes, I moved out of his way before he ended up getting annoyed with me, which I was expecting but never came. Odd. But there was no way I was going to test his patience. It could all go downhill from there.
For lunch, I just sat with at the table Ryker usually sits at, trying to make it easier on him. Both of us never ate lunch apparently. He sat on his phone, while I just finished up some notes from my physics class. He didn’t try to make a conversation with me, only the occasional yes or no questions. If I was okay. Did I want to move. Those sorts of things.
What didn’t sit right with me was how he flashed me sad looks every time I moved away from him or when I jumped. It’s like he felt bad for making me feel scared. Why? It was so weird to see how he cared so much about how I felt when I cared so much about how he felt towards me. Wasn’t he annoyed with having to take care of me? I would be if I had to constantly carry about something that didn’t even look grateful for the help.
The rest of the day was easy. He had his seventh period off, taking us to the library along with four other people who were currently playing Uno. He let me on the ground where there was an entrance to the human side of the library, telling me that I was probably tired of being around him all day and I could have some time alone if I wanted to.
So now here I was in a quiet library where two teachers were talking about something and I just sat here trying to stay calm. Only forty more minutes and I was free. Eight more school days and I wouldn’t have to do this ever again hopefully. Good. I could barely keep up with one day, let alone the rest of the school year? Nope. I do not want that on my to-do list.
It was three minutes before the bell rang, and I decided not to keep Ryker waiting like this morning. It was rude, and I really didn’t want him to be late because I couldn’t even get on his hand without going under a breakdown. I’m just lucky he hasn’t even mentioned anything about this morning.
I walked back into the library, seeing that the people who were playing Uno already left for class while Ryker was sitting down on the couch reading that same book he took out this morning. He didn’t seem bothered at all. Well, that might change after carrying me around for two weeks.
I looked around, trying to find a way to get on the table or really anything to stand up on for him to see me, but there was nothing. There were no elevators in this library. Heck. What do I do now though? The bell’s going to ring soon and Ryker doesn’t even realize. Of course everything has to go downhill right when it’s almost the end of the day. Life hates me.
Yelling was under no circumstance an option. Getting closer to him wasn’t either. I’d just have to hope he realizes soon enough. And luckily, he closes his book and looks towards the door that leads to the human side and sees me. Good. I was not about to yell for him to notice me. Not at all.
He shoved the book in his backpack before standing up and walking slowly towards me, but I couldn’t stop the quiet squeak that escaped my mouth. He was tall. Really, really tall. Even for a giant. How did I not realize this sooner? My breath hitched in my throat as I looked down to the ground. Seeing him sitting at a desk was one thing, but him standing up to his full height while I was on the ground? Not something I wanted to see.
He must have caught on because he crouched down, holding a hand out. Either that or he just wanted to get going. I hurried on, hoping he wouldn’t catch that I was trembling extremely violently.
“Sorry. Were you waiting long?” He asked me. I bit the side of my cheek, shaking my head. I lied.
As soon as the last class of the day started, Mrs. Kay walked in looking cheery as always, “How’d everyone’s day go?” She had asked, earning a few answers from students. Apparently they all had a great time. It’s because they were already friends and used to this.
“I’m glad you all enjoyed it. Today is a free day, so finish up whatever work you have in other classes or talk with your partner. Get to know one another.”
The whole room was bustling with bright conversation while I still couldn’t even say one word to Ryker. A part of me really wanted to. I mean, I was being rude by not actually giving any effort at all to talk, but at the same time I feel like I would just be more annoying to him.
Mrs. Kay came over to us, smiling and keeping her posture as she checked on students as she came down the isle. I winced, already knowing what might happen. She’s going to tell us to talk. Ryker has only asked me simple questions today, and I always either nodded my head or shook it. Meaning I haven’t spoken a single word to him for the week and half. Honestly, I was kind of jealous that others could laugh and joke around with their partners while I couldn’t so much as open my mouth to speak. Some great partner, huh?
“How did today go you two?”
I didn’t bother looking, too embarrassed to answer. Ryker was about to complain to her about everything that was wrong with me and there was nothing I could do about it. Because he isn’t wrong, even if I don’t know what he’ll say. I was weak, pathetic, scared, my bones were even more breakable than a normal humans because of how many times they’ve been broken in the past, I was a lot shorter than the average human, I wasn’t strong. You’re broken. That last thought hangs in the back of my mind and leaves a sour taste on my tongue.
Who knew, maybe he would get an actual partner that could keep a conversation with him. Or to entertain him long enough. Just get me out of here already so I can-
“It was good.” Was all Ryker answered with, and I could somehow hear the smile on his face.
I didn’t know if this was some kind of trick or not, but if it is, then it’s awful. He has to be lying. There has to be something he can say other than “it’s good.” Seriously. I’m pretty sure Ryker grew tired of my at some point in time.
“And how about you Nathan?” The question directed to me.
What do I answer? “I didn’t die?” Or “All my limbs are intact.” Or my body answers for me instead, nodding shakily as I eye the elevator door. Maybe I could get out of here? No one would notice, and as long as Ryker wasn’t looking I could just slip away… No. There’s only about twenty minutes left of class. I can hopefully survive until then.
“Have you two talked at all?” Mrs. Kay asked, a hint of anxiousness in her tone. It’s because she knows from my mom. That’s what my mom was talking to her about. How I reacted to being around giants. Great. Because I needed more people trying to figure out what was wrong with me.
I didn’t bother knowing if Ryker nodded or shook his head. I hated my overthinking. So, so much. All terrible possible outcomes, and that’s all I can think about. That I’ll never live the life I used to live ever again. That no one will figure out whatever was wrong with me. That I’ll never be able to trust a person again. I miss the days when dad would just lie down with me on the cold, metal floor of our cage and keep telling me everything was alright when nothing was.
Wait.
Why was I talking about that?
I wish my overthinking would just go away.
“Hmm. Alright. I said these next two weeks would be fun, and I have the best idea for that.” She giggled, but I could hint that little bit of worry hidden in her words. This wasn’t going to end well for me.
She walks up to the front of the room, “I really wasn’t planning on everyone getting along so well right away, but this is apparently a faster class, so, here’s a little fun I’ve thought of!” She started off, “I want you to go to to each other’s houses. Or, more specifically your bigger partner.” She joked, and a couple laughed along.
But this wasn’t funny to me. Apparently not to Ryker either. We both stared wide-eyed at our teacher, probably both wondering the same thing. Why did she do this?
There really was no way out of this. I thought I would pass by these next eight days with just having to deal with school, but now I have to go to his house? What would his parents think of me? I’m literally bothering him afterschool and that’s probably his time to destress and not be bothered by anyone, which was the complete opposite of what I’d be doing.
“Now, it can be anytime between now and next Friday. You are not required to stay over for the night, but I would like either one of your parents to sign off, proving that it happened. If there are any problems, please take it up with me after class.”
She smiled, and sat down at her desk, probably making the slips we were now supposed to get signed by either one of our parents. But, as I looked back to Ryker, he didn’t look angry, but he didn’t look happy either. His hands were clenched into fists, he was biting the inside of his cheek, and I did not like how close his hands were to me.
Soon enough, the class was filled with excited conversation again. I somehow worked up the courage to turn around, and Ryker was staring out the window, and then his eyes met mine, making me jump. Great turn of events. I wasn’t expecting that.
“How do you feel about being in a house with five other people?” He awkwardly asked, worry encasing every word he said. I quickly shook my head. No. Five people? So him… his parents… does that mean he has two other siblings? Oh heck. No. No this cannot be happening. I can’t even handle one person let alone five?
Ryker gave a sad smile, “Sorry litt-… Nathan. I’ll just tell her afterschool that you don’t feel comfortable with this. I’m not going to force you.”
I had no idea what he was going to call me before, but I didn’t care. I was more shocked at how he willingly offered to tell Mrs. Kay for me that I couldn’t do this. Why?
Maybe he wasn’t that bad after all.
—————————————
Wow. That’s long. But thank you for reading! I hope you’re all enjoying reading this just as much as I am writing it! I promise the next chapter will really explain a lot. For now, enjoy this last-minute drawing I did of Nathan.
#g/t#G/t writing#G/t art#g/t community#sfw g/t#my art#gt#Oc:Nathan#Oc:Ryker#G/t angst#G/t fearplay#restoration#I surprised myself with how long that chapter was#I think I’m going to do something a little special for the next chapter#I’m glad you’re all enjoying this!#Giant/tiny
22 notes
·
View notes
Text
So, I wrote a backstory for Black Hole. Call me cringe all you want but it's mostly a different universe where the contestants have parents and families, which, we don't know where they came from in actuality. But that also gives us free reign to let our creativity flow. So that's exactly what I'm gonna do!
Thank you so much to NariiennTunes as I said, a very good friend of mine who listened to me ramble about this idea and also helped in a lot of areas.
Also, note, that not all of this is gonna be completely accurate to real life astronomy. I'm still learning about it currently but I'm not gonna stress myself out over the accuracy of it because there's a literal black hole in the show and he's not ALWAYS sucking up people left and right, and hasn't destroyed their earth yet. And also, he was compressed into a smaller size. So there you have it. Now, on with the storyline!
And finally, for the people who asked to see it specifically:
@tarochinomochi
@indescribable-infatuation
Way back in the past, growing up, Black Hole, being an alien (in my headcanon/gijinka), lived on a planet called Astramios. Where stars, galaxies, comets and asteroids alike all live together personified in harmony.
Except, it wasn't harmony.
There was constant suffering, death and wars. Higher ups were corrupt and the lower class were forced to accept the fact that they'd never be treated as equal. Aliens alike brushed off constant death as if it was nothing to get sad over.
All, except for few. And one of those few was Black Hole. He was exposed to death from a very early age, his parents not exactly being the most loving or nurturing. Everybody's way of thinking on his planet—
kill or be killed.
He hated it.
He hated the constant death, the wars, the fighting, the screams—the suffering.
He grew up in the middle of war.
But, Black Hole wasn't always Black Hole.
Mu Cephei, son and prodigy of V Cephei and Ky Cygni, some of the most powerful and high class stars on their planet. With a reputation to uphold, there's no room for remorse, or emotions or sympathy. They must raise their son to be able to defend himself and honor his family's name.
Black Hole was once Mu Cephei.
His parents put excessive amounts of pressure on him, especially his dad—V Cephei, who's name was passed onto him. Constant training since the age of 10 to be a soldier, a warrior, a general. A leader.
No matter how much it tired him.
No matter how much it hurt.
No matter how much he just wanted peace.
He must be the best, and continue his family’s legacy.
Mu Cephei never liked fighting, or the training, anything that his family raised him with really—the only thing he was grateful for was knowing how to use his powers, and even then, it was only purposed for fighting.
He doesn't WANT to fight.
But, one day, he had gotten too close to a battle while outdoors, only trying to gather food for himself and his family. That was a mistake.
A blast was sent in his direction, and he couldn't avoid it—and before he knew it—he blacked out.
A while later, he had woken up, but not as his usual self. He was…darker, he felt different, and he was sucking up things around him.
He was a black hole.
By the time he came to, his parents had surrounded him, forcing him up to his feet and leading him home. He had no idea what to do, or say. They seemed angry. He did break one of the first rules they taught him, after all.
Never let your guard down.
He was…scarred, to say the least. As a star, it wasn't as hard to avoid hurting people and cause destruction, because — well…he was a star. Still powerful, but not out of control.
He hardly knew what he was now. And his parents didn't look at him the same anymore.
It ultimately left them disappointed, and ashamed of their own son. They were upper class aliens, for constellation’s sake! He can't destroy both his and their reputation like that!
But either way, they both kept training him. Trained him to re-learn everything as this new species of alien, and Black Hole did his best to follow, even when he felt out of control all the time.
By the time he was of age, the relationship between him and his parents was worse than ever—and the state of their planet was awful. It was evil.
He hated pain, he hated death, and all it had to offer.
He hated seeing others just die on the spot, even with how they all had thoughts and feelings and their own lives—but nobody seemed to care!
It often felt like he was the only one who did.
So, just like that—when he got the chance…
He left, without looking back.
It was a hard decision, all things considered, but he knew he'd survive wandering space—as long as he was careful.
But no doubt it got…lonely.
The constant silence was better than constant war, but it was still…chilling. Being all alone with nobody but yourself was lonely, isolating. But he didn't have a choice. And even then, people still got hurt by him. Traveling into space and getting sucked up by him, the screaming and then the inevitable silence all over again, and he could hardly do anything about it.
Until…he found Earth.
Coming to Earth was an odd decision. With the help of an odd, blue alien, his powers and essence in general was condensed on Earth’s atmosphere so he could live there. Before the challenge started, he was hesitant on even staying, seeing as even with the limited abilities… he was still dangerous. But overtime, he learned to control it better, and was somewhat content.
This world was so beautiful, and so much less corrupt than his old home. People weren't constantly killing eachother.
Okay, that last bit is a lie. Death was still prevelant, and brushed off. But it was more understandable because they had recovery centers, and he liked THAT at least…
But seeing death, over and over again was awful. Traumatizing..Tiring. Like he was living out his old life all over again. Especially if the suffering was at his own hands.
So, obviously, upon joining the challenge and seeing others just as ecstatic about a pacifistic life as he was—was…uplifting.
He felt like he had a chance at not being a monster for once.
He threw away his old name, Mu Cephei, and went by his new one permanently.
Black Hole.
And that's how it all began.
#black hole#black hole bfb#bfdi#bfdi black hole#bfdi headcanon#bfdi prompt#prompt#writing#backstory#battle for bfdi#object show community#bfb#the power of two
31 notes
·
View notes
Text
Just Get It Over With
Warnings: captivity, torture, restraints, blood, self sacrifice, death, mcd, grief, hurt/no comfort
Sidekick sat in the med bay in Lair. They had stayed there since they were brought back from Base and Superhero's clutches. Stayed there since they had failed the most important person in their life. Stayed there since they had to leave what was left of Villain behind.
Sidekick couldn't shake the memories of their last few hours with Villain. Couldn't shake the memories of the pain they had, and the pain they witnessed. Couldn't shake the pain of being held captive by Superhero. And they couldn't shake the memories of Villain dying.
"Just get it over with already," Villain wheezed as they struggled to remain standing in the standing cuffs. Superhero had been beating them for hours and their body was battered and bruised. "You've been wanting to kill me ever since I left here. Ever since I broke free of your control." They spat a gob of blood at Superhero's feet.
Superhero frowned. They stepped around the blood. "It is true I've been waiting a long time for this. But why would I waste my time now, when I can enjoy your pain for so much longer?"
Superhero turned to where Sidekick was chained to the wall across from Villain. Sidekick had a front row seat to Villain's torture. They were relatively unharmed aside from the few scrapes and bruises that happened when they tried to escape Superhero's grasp. "Maybe I should give you a break and turn my attentions to your mentee. You could learn a thing or two from your old mentor, Villain." Sidekick's heart threatened to beat out of their chest at the mere suggestion of Superhero torturing them. They didn't think they could endure it.
"I cannot learn anything from you. You're a monster. Pure evil." Villain's voice was full of venom and rage. And it was enough to distract Superhero from attacking Sidekick.
"And yet the people love me and hate you," Superhero hissed as they raised a fist towards Villain."
"Only because they don't know the truth. But I know--"
Villain's words were cut off by Superhero releasing a beam of light into their chest. Blood poured from the giant hole in Villain's ruined chest. Villain sagged in the chains, their legs no longer able to hold them up. Their head lolled forward as blood dripped from their lips in a steady stream.
"NO!" Sidekick shrieked. Villain was still alive. They had to be alive.
"Not so tough now, are you, Villain," Superhero said as they blasted Villain one more, this time in the stomach.
Villain's body jerked, but they didn't cry out. Blood pooled around their feet. Sidekick couldn't breathe. Villain had to be alive. They wouldn't last long without Villain. Right Hand and the others should be almost here. Villain had to be alive so they could all go home.
"There's no point in talking to them, little one," Superhero said to Sidekick as they grabbed Villain's head by the hair. "They can't hear you anymore." And they lifted Villain's head.
Villain's jaw was slack, blood and saliva dripping in a steady stream from their open mouth. Their eyes were half lidded and empty as they stared out at nothing.
"NOOOOOO!" Sidekick screamed as they began to sob. Villain couldn't be dead. They needed Villain. They had so much still to learn from Villain. Villain had protected them from Superhero. Had drawn Superhero to attack them instead of Sidekick. Had died instead of Sidekick.
"More's they pity," Superhero released their grip on Villain's hair, "I would have liked to enjoy more time with them." They blasted the cuffs keeping Villain upright. Villain's body dropped into the pool of blood on the ground, landing in a heap. Superhero kicked at Villain. Kicked and kicked until Villain's face was visible once more.
Supervillain knelt down, their face inches from Villain's. "I will make sure the people see your broken body. See what happens when you defy me. And they shall dance and rejoice over your grave while singing my praises. And everything you stood for will end."
"NO! They can't be dead. They're not dead. You can't kill them! They're a champion against everything you aren't. They're going to restore peace and freedom. They're not dead!" Sidekick sobbed hysterically.
Superhero sighed. "It seems I've broken you, too, without even touching you." They grabbed Villain's hair once more and began to drag them towards Sidekick. "Behold your champion." They tossed Villain's limp body like a doll at Sidekick.
Sidekick's knees buckled as they tried to keep Villain upright. They ended up on their back with Villain on top of them. The chains pulled Sidekick's arms up and around Villain making it such that they hugged Villain to them.
Sidekick let out a loud keening cry as they stared into Villain's lifeless eyes, mere inches from their own. Blood dripped from Villain's mouth onto Sidekick's face. Sidekick could feel their clothes become saturated and coated with blood from Villain's chest and gut wounds. Sidekick knew the hole in Villain's chest was over their heart. They knew because their own heart was covered with blood. Anyone would have been killed instantly with that kind of wound. Villain was dead.
"I'm so sorry. I'm sorry. Please. Don't be dead. Please. Villain. Villain. I need you. Please. Villain. Come back."
"Ah, ah," Superhero yanked Villain out of Sidekick's arms, "can't let you have them too long, little one. I have to ensure to give the people what they want." They looked into Villain's sightless eyes. "And they have been wanting your death for a long time."
They began to drag Villain towards the door. "Wait, please," Sidekick begged, "leave Villain's.....Villain's body with me. I....I need to honor them."
Superhero chuckled darkly as they turned and faced Sidekick. They lifted Villain high and shoved their hand through the gaping hole in Villain's chest. "There's nothing left to honor, little one. I destroyed their heart. This is just a broken husk." They turned once more to the door. "But don't worry. You'll be joining them in the after life soon."
Sidekick's memories became fuzzy after that. They didn't know how long it took Right Hand to find them. They didn't know where Villain's body was. They didn't know how to find them. What they did know was that they were back in Lair and in the med bay.
And they hadn't been able to leave since. Villain was dead. Villain was dead and the chance for freedom was dead. Villain was dead and it was all their fault.
#serickswrites#whump#whump writing#whumpblr#whump community#tw captivity#tw restraints#tw blood#tw self sacrifice#tw death#tw mcd#tw grief#hurt/no comfort#villain#sidekick#superhero#villain x sidekick#villain x superhero#sidekick x superhero#hero x villain community#whumpuary#whumpuary2024#day 21/22#prompt: “just get it over with”#prompt: blood#prompt: memories#queue#tw torture
25 notes
·
View notes
Note
:)
"Enid, Enid please. Wake. Up." Wednesday shakes her by the biceps. She's still warm. She can hear sobbing behind her. "Please..." she trails off. Enid's gone.
She has the softest smile on her face. Wednesday's hands are covered in her blood. She feels a hand on her shoulder. She looks up.
Divina.
"Wh— what happened to our daughter? Why?" Her voice breaks. "Why would someone hurt her?"
"Outcast hunters." Yoko speaks up. Tears run down her cheeks, but her face is hauntingly blank. "They must found her at the river. We never should've left her alone."
Wednesday turns back to Enid. She looks so... relaxed. She always had this tightness to her shoulders, always hunching herself down.
Yoko walks past Wednesday and crouches down next to Enid. Gingerly, she hooks an arm under her legs and the other arm beneath her shoulders.
"Wait." Yoko turns and faces Wednesday. Wednesday brings her hands to Enid's stomach and almost touches her. "We haven't known each other very long, but Enid means much to me." Her hands start glowing softly. "Grant me the right to aid in burying her?"
Yoko takes a deep breath, her only daughter's limp body in her arms.
"I don't know you at all." She swallows. "But Enid cared so deeply for you. I couldn't deny her the right to have someone important to her help bury her."
Wednesday nods and her fingers start to glow. She places on them on Enid's abdomen.
"So she passes on easier. The spell makes sure any vile things are repelled by her. I would not have her accosted in the afterlife."
Yoko nods her head once in her direction.
"Thank you."
Wednesday turns to face Divina. "Do you have any idea who's responsible?"
Divina's face is heard-set. She lifts a shaky hand into the forest.
"That way. The village is own for housing outcast-hunters."
Wednesday nods and starts walking past her. Her rapier burns her hip with a need for blood.
Just before she can get past Divina, the siren places a hand on her shoulder, stopping her.
"Make them burn. Please."
This isn't Wednesday's first time staring into the eyes of a grieving mother, but this is the first time she's been in the throes of grief with her.
"I swear on my life that they will suffer."
She walks past Divina.
---------------------------------------------------------------
She finds the little village a good few minutes off where she'd found Enid and she hates it. She hides in the tree-line.
Everyone is so happy.
They act like Enid dying was something to cheer for, something to bring out food and drink over.
She walks into the tavern where it seems the entire damn town is enjoying themselves in, her wings out.
"Who was it that attacked Enid?" The entire bar goes quiet.
"What?" Rings in her ears.
She turns to the bartender who spoke.
"Who. Attacked. Enid."
"That werewo'f?" Comes a slurred voiced in the back. "Why, Lady Death, that'd be me." There's the raising of drinks and cheers. They're proud.
"My name is not Lady Death," she grips her rapier's handle, "it is Wednesday. And you," she drags it out of it's holster, "will have no home to return to once I'm done."
She swings.
---------------------------------------------------------------
When she leaves, she leaves covered in no more blood than she arrived with. She didn't want Enid's blood tainted by theirs.
She find Yoko and Divina easily. They're both waiting in front of their house. They have a hole dug already.
"Wednesday." Yoko greets solemnly. "We've been waiting."
"Sorry. I didn't want them to have a second of hope."
"Good."
Divina picks up Enid, and places her gently into the ground.
"Wait," Wednesday says before they can do anything. "Give me your hands."
Maybe if they weren't stuck in their mourning, if they weren't mourning their daughter, they'd have been more hesitant over offering a part of their body to Death. But what else do they have left to lose besides each other?
They offer their hands.
Wednesday takes a knife from her belt and cuts their palms. She takes her own hand and does the same.
"Why?" Divina asks.
"For this." She places her uncut hand on the blade's edge, and feels the blood's energy pulse. Slowly, she forms it into a crimson colored ring.
She bends down and takes Enid's hand, sliding the ring on her thumb. She reach over and uses her hand to clean the blood off Enid's side, forming more rings.
She stands back up, and takes Divina's hand first, slipping the ring on her thumb as well. She takes Yoko's hand and does the same.
"So we have something to hold onto as a memento. Of Enid."
Divina nods thoughtlessly, then faces Wednesday.
"Help us bury her."
"Right."
They start piling the fresh-dug dirt on top of Enid. Each toss, they all cry just a little harder than before. When they're done, Wednesday turns to take her leave.
Yoko grabs her arm.
"Don't go, we aren't done." She turns around and They both have a handful of something, clutching it. Divina has both hands full.
"Take some." Wednesday holds her hand out and Divina deposits whatever it is into her palm. She looks.
"Rose seeds?"
"Enid always said when she died, she wanted to be covered in roses." Divina swallows thickly. There's tears streaming down her face. "So people would know she was loved alive. And, because she believes that if she has a symbol of love, it'll be easier to find a lover in the afterlife."
Wednesday stares at the seeds. She doesn't want to plant them, selfishly. She doesn't want Enid to move from her in the underworld because she can't move on in this one.
She plants hers across where Enid's heart and arms are.
She won't deny Enid her love, even if Wednesday herself can't have Enid's.
---------------------------------------------------------------
Every year, there's cries from towns and cities alike.
"Don't cut any roses, and don't attack any wolves." One says to another. "Wednesday, She Whom Is Commander Of Death, will haunt and hunt you 'till you're mind is broken, and leave you a shell of your former self."
"Deceitful," the second says, "Death cares nothing for the living." They let loose the arrow in their bowstring, and grins when it pierces the wolf that's been stalking their chickens and sheep straight through its heart. The tip of the arrow slams through the stem of a rose, destroying it.
No one is surprised the next morning when there's a mangled body surrounded by crows and ravens.
-Writer Anon.
NO??? WRITER ANON WHY 😭NOT ENID DYING, I HOPE THEY GET TOGETHER
MAYBE ENID REINCARNATES??? MAN IDK, I JUST HOPE THEM WELL
honestly fuck them hunters, they deserve that death
67 notes
·
View notes
Text
Book Worm and the Hunter
Requested by the lovely @leigh70, thank you again love!
Pairings: Dean Winchester x Female!reader
Warnings: Lots of fluff, mild swearing, and more fluff
Word Count: 2.2k
A/N: Thinking about turning this into a series. What do you all think? Comments/suggestions are always welcomed!!
Content would be the way I would describe my life. It isn’t horrible, which I feel like is all we can ask for, and it has its moments where happiness is the only emotion I seem to have. After losing my family to hunting, whether it be actual death or the inevitable spilt that seems to happen when one person hunts and the other doesn’t, I learned that I had to live like there was no tomorrow. To some people that might mean emptying the bank account and having a wild party. But for me, it meant following my passions in life and never letting the social norms get to me. Which I why I own a small hole in the wall book shop filled with any genre you could imagine. There was always something about getting lost in a book and losing sense of reality around you. It provides that small escape you might not know you even need. But what I find truly rewarding, is helping someone find their new favorite story. Some people might not understand the importance of a good book, but I know better. My family saved people from things that go bump in the night, but I save people from something far greater. Which is how I met my best friend Donna.
Years ago, we ran into each other in a coffee shop, literally ran into each other. Coffee went everywhere and I don’t think either of us could apologize quick enough. I was normally not one for small talk, never really knowing what to say. But Donna quickly launched into conversation and asked what I was reading. Two new coffees and a few hours later, it was like we had been friends for life. There were times our friendship was strained, like when she found out what is really lurking in the shadows, but we always managed to find our way back to each other. Even though I wasn’t too thrilled about her pursuing the hunter life, she of all people managed to separate them for the most part. Until she begged me to meet her friends.
To say she was happy would be severely understanding everything about her. If there was anything in this world I wish I could have, it would be a fraction of Donna’s cheerfulness. She could have the worst of days and still find the bright side in things. And that ray of sunshine is what put a smile on my face when she walked through the doors of my shop. “Hiya, Y/N. How’s it going?”
I gave her a wave, “Good as always. You?”
She leaned against the counter replying, “It’s been tater tots and lemon drops. I wanted to run something by you though.”
I raised my eyebrows at her to explain. “I have a few friends coming in town and I wanted you to meet them.”
I tilted my head to the side and studied her. She seemed like she was suppressing some of her excitement, or at least trying to. Her constant tapping of the fingers gave her away.
“And do these friends of yours have a name?”
She bit her lip when the names, “Sam and Dean” came out. I knew two different sides of the Winchesters. The one Donna constantly talked about which made them seem like pretty stand-up guys. And then the side the hunting world talked about. While it wasn’t necessarily a negative side, but I knew what being dedicated to hunting meant. Living to grow old with a family they loved wasn’t on their list of things to do. To each their own, I guess. But Donna was normally a good judge of character, so I was going to give her the benefit of the doubt and meet them with a clean, judgement free slate.
I could see my friend nearly bursting with anticipation at my answer. She knew my past and how I felt about hunters, but they seemed to have a piece of Donna’s heart. “When do they get in?”
Her happiness at that simple question had me playfully rolling my eyes at her. “Tonight! I was thinking we go grab a few drinks and if it’s really horrible then we can fake some sort of emergency!”
I don’t know how I managed to get a good of friend as Donna, but I was thanking the heavens for it. “Sounds good. I close up today around 7. I can meet you there if it isn’t far.”
She was already shaking her head. “No, no. We can meet here and all walk together. I wouldn’t want you to walk in the dark alone.” I nodded my head at her, and she said she would be back before closing.
The rest of the day went by quickly and before I knew it, I was closing up the store. The sound of the front door opening caused me to poke my head around the book shelf I was organizing. Two of the tallest men I have ever seen was standing in the doorway. “Sorry boys. Stores closed for the night.”
The tallest one offered me a smile. “Are you Y/N? Donna told us to meet here.”
Curse that girl for not getting here before them. I was already awkward on a good day. Maybe that emergency will come into play sooner than I thought. I forced myself to walk away from the safety of my books. “Yeah sure am. You must be Sam and Dean.”
The same guy offered his hand out for me to shake and it was nearly comical watching my hand completely disappear in his. “I’m Sam and that’s my brother Dean. It’s nice to finally meet you. Donna talks about you a lot.”
I chuckled, “She has told me all about the two of you as well.” I looked over to Dean and my breath caught in my throat. I don’t know if it was the millions of romance novels I’ve read, but this man was something from my dreams.
He caught me staring and smirked. “You work here?” Sam tried to cover up a laugh at his poor use of small talk.
“No, I felt like robbing the place of all its books. I just clearly underestimated how heavy they would be.”
He ran a hand through his hair, “Yeah I deserved that one.”
My smile came naturally and as bad as it sounds, I felt better knowing he was just as awkward as I was. “It’s my bookstore. Opened it quite a few years ago. It isn’t much but I enjoy what I do.”
Sam shook his head in awe at all the books. “It must be nice being surrounded by this all day.” I hummed in response and watched Dean venture deeper into the store. Despite telling myself to stop, my eyes seemed to follow the hunter wherever he went. He stopped suddenly and I nearly smacked myself in the face for forgetting what was in the furthest corner of my store.
“Are these books on lore?” That caught Sam’s attention and I sighed as both of the Winchester’s were now combing through my collection I managed to grow over the years.
“Well, I might not hunt like my family did, but I can at least help out here and there. Where do you think Donna got some of her information?” Sam laughed and I looked up to see Dean studying me. I couldn’t tell if it was a look of shock or admiration. For my own benefit, I chose the more positive of the two.
I nearly jumped as the front door banged open and my blonde friend was bent over trying to catch her breath. “You okay?”
The boys made their way back up front as I asked the question and Donna waved a hand at me. “You know, I do cross fit, but I don’t think I get in as much cardio as I should. I lost track of time and then my car wouldn’t work. So, I thought, what the H-E-double hockey sticks, I’ll have a nice jog there and reward myself with a drink. Woah buddy I was wrong. My lungs feel like they are going to burst any second.”
I put a hand over my mouth to hide the smile that was forming. Donna seemed to notice the boys for the first time and threw them into a hug. “Hiya fellas! It’s been too long.”
She looked over to me with an apologetic smile, “I see the three of you have met. How does a drink sound?”
Sam clapped his hands together, “Sounds great. We can catch up while you catch your breath.” Donna poked him in the side, and I grabbed my keys to lock the door behind us. Donna had her arm looped through Sam’s as they walked off, lost in conversation but Dean stayed back.
“You don’t have to wait on me. I won’t be long.”
He put his hands in his pockets and shook his head, “Too much cheerfulness for me.” I snorted at the comment and finished what I needed to do. The two of us started heading towards the bar in a surprisingly comfortable silence. Something about this handsome man beside me had me feeling safe.
“Donna said you aren’t too big on hunters.” That was one way to break the ice.
“I come from a complicated past like everyone else. But I knew the two of you have treated her right over the years and it was only fair to give you a chance. You both staying in town long?”
He glanced over at me and smiled, “Longer than what we were originally planning.” I wanted so bad to read into the look he gave me to match those words, but I wasn’t trying to break my own heart. I had only met the man a few minutes ago. Clearly, I needed to slow myself down and remind myself that this isn’t like one of my books.
Donna’s voice cut through my thoughts and waved us over to a table. “We got the first round of drinks while you two were walking slower than molasses.” I shook my head at her and sipped my drink. Dean said he saw a pool table and was going to make some quick cash. Sam followed behind him which left Donna and I at the table.
“What do you think of Dean?”
I took a longer sip this time to try and think of what to say. “He isn’t what I expected.”
Donna nodded her head, seeming to understand what i meant. "He is a little rough around the edges but honestly the best of us are. I know it isn’t your thing to randomly go to dinner with a guy you don’t know, but I think the two of you would hit it off. What do ya say? Wanna give it the ole college try?”
I glanced back over to the pool table and saw the green-eyed hunter looking at us. He gave me a wink and I felt my cheeks heat up. “I don’t even know if he’s into me.”
Donna squeezed my hand, “Sam said Dean was shy around you. That for him is a rare occurrence. Honestly, Y/N, you should just go for it. All he can do is say no and then you and I can sit around watching cheesy romance movies and eat ice cream out of the tub. But you know I would only eat the ice cream for you. So, you better feel special. I don’t think he would say no to you though! What’s not to like?”
She was right. I needed to get out of my comfort zone for once and what better way to do it than with a guy who isn’t staying in town long. “You’re right.” Donna squealed next to me causing both boys to look over at us. Sam said something to Dean that had him walking this way. I went to say something to my friend, but she was no where in sight.
Dean sat across the table from me and opened his mouth to say something, but I cut him off. “Before I lose all of my confidence in this, I need to ask you something. I know the two of you aren’t staying for long, but I was wondering if we could get dinner before you left.”
I was biting my lip and staring at the table, afraid for his answer. A finger touched under my chin and lifted my head up to look at him. I was met with a warm smile, one I’m sure he didn’t use often, and a response of, “Sweetheart I would love to. I was actually coming over her to ask you myself after Sam told me to get my head out of my ass.” A blush covered my face which only made him smile bigger. “And I told you on the way here that we were staying longer than planned. It was because I wanted to get to know you more.”
My heart fluttered at his words, and I shook my head, “Dean Winchester you have no idea how happy you just made me.” Maybe love stories do come true.
Tag list: @winchestergypsy90
#dean winchester x reader#dean x reader#dean x you#dean winchester#supernatural#dean winchester fanfiction#spn edit#donna hanscum
412 notes
·
View notes
Note
So maybe prompt from the injury list number 4 and dialogue number 8 and 14. With Marc Spector and mercenaryfem!reader in which he obviously has repressed feelings for her because he’s a grown ass man incapable of expressing and understanding his own emotions 😮💨
4. Trying to hide your injury from them, but failing miserably once you faint right in front of them. + 8. "You moron... Why are you so careless!?" & 14. "I... thought I lost you..."
warnings: blood, injuries, thoughts of death
Things, they have a particular way of going from bad to worse to what the fuck just happened in the span of about five seconds flat.
One minute, you're poised on a rooftop with Spector, a target lined up in the scope of your rifle, the next you're bleeding out in a dirty alleyway.
You only half remember the hard line of Marc's arm knocking you to the ground, the explosion, the fight that led from roof to ground, to chase, to realizing you were out numbered on this little mission.
But you and Spector kind of have a way about these things. You always take the jobs that are likely to kill you, that will leave you outnumbered and outgunned.
You’re both a little fucked up, that you know. But it works well, it works in your favor.
Those dark, sad eyes of his were like home to you, even if what you saw in them was never spoken out loud, never given voice. Even if he sometimes kissed you in the dark, and wouldn’t meet your gaze in the light.
Even if you and Marc bickered and bottled up feelings and never said what you meant, you worked well together. You were good partners. Like your self-destructive natures cancelled out in each others presence, both dedicated to making sure the other made it out alive.
Somehow, it always works out.
Usually, anyhow.
This time though, might be different.
You touch your side when you wake in the alley, unsure of how you got there. A dark red coats your fingers, sticky and brackish in the low light.
A dog barks in the distance, the night still and silent once again. You can't hear out of one ear, and when you raise your arm, something pops, protests the movement.
There's a furious pounding in your head and you can't think about what just happened too hard without your vision going crossed, without feeling like you might vomit or pass out.
"Fuck," you stare at the blood on your hands, the way it's dripping out of you and onto the paving stones.
You glance up and around, only the dark and a distant haloing streetlight there to greet you, the image of it doubling and tripling the longer you look. A surge of panic races up your spine, fear, because Spector isn't here with you and you can't remember the last time you saw him.
The roof.
But not after that.
Fuck.
You suck in a hard breath, trying not to think the worst, trying to breathe around the pain.
Safe house.
If you can make it to the safe house, you’ll know for sure. That's where you'd agreed to meet if something went wrong. That’s where he’ll be, if he’s alive.
With a monumental effort, you haul yourself up, ripping off your outer jacket to shove against the hole weeping blood in your side.
Marc wouldn't have left you, had he known where you were.
Your best chance at finding him, lay with the safe house.
It doesn't occur to you that you're probably dying, all that matters is finding out what happened to your stupid ass partner.
Making sure his dumbass stayed alive because he certainly wasn’t going to do it.
Stupid.
Yes, he's stupid.
A flash of the fight on the street comes back to you, the determination in his voice when he told you to go, that he'd give you the chance to get away. His voice had changed, a strange lilt in his accent, a hardness that brooked no argument.
Out of ammo, already hit, you'd gone.
The image fades away, replaced by anger and the picture of Spector's stupid, concerned face, the touch of his thumb against the pain in your temple.
You raise your hand, touch that spot too.
You can't remember if you fell, or if someone hit you.
Doesn't matter, because the safe house is blissfully close. It's within reach, and there you'll either find your partner or you'll find out that they got him too.
There would be spare ammo, if it came to that.
The entrance to the house is down a couple of concrete stairs, a thick door at the bottom that you struggle to remember the correct way to open.
But once it swings open and shut, the gloom of the place is revealed. Marc sits on a low cot, sewing closed a wound in his arm in the semi-darkness.
His head jerks up at the sound of the door closing, hand going to his side before he breathes out your name.
"Didn't even wait for me, huh," you sway on the spot, relief flooding you at the sight of him mostly unharmed. "I coulda done that for you."
Marc just grits his teeth and tears off the excess thread of the sutured wound. "Are you hurt?" He asks gruffly, not looking at you, fiddling with the first aid kit by his side.
You frown but don't answer.
"I mean...fuck! Why can't you ever just do what I say? Why didn't you come back here first?" Worry makes him wild, you think, makes him irrational. If you could have been here, if you’d been able you would have been.
He knows that, but this is easier.
A weird lump rises up in your throat, and you press the jacket harder to your side. "Would've," you say, trying not to slur your words. "Not really sure what happened. Not really sure I'm gonna make it. Wanted to see that you'd made it back. Needed to make sure your dumbass was still alive.”
Marc is staring at you when you manage to lift your gaze from the ground. "What?"
"Nothin'. Glad you're okay."
His eyes drift down to the floor, where blood has stained the carpet beneath your feet. "Are you fucking hit?" He grumbles, lurching to his feet.
"No," you sway again, your vision blurring by the second. "No, I just need to sit down."
Marc's jaw ticks as he strides toward you. He's stained in blood too, his eyes wild and blown out, like he's confused by everything too, like he hardly knows where he is or who he is.
He reaches you and jerks your feeble hands away from your torso, your blood crusted jacket falling to the floor. The color drains from his face and you lift a shaking hand to touch his wrist.
Marc jerks out of your hold, and that's the last thing you know, the floor rising up at you rapidly before your vision goes black.
~
Marc is muttering next to you, his voice a low grumble, and you find it odd, because Marc never talks.
He's a quiet person, never says more than he needs to, with the lockbox of himself tightened up inside his chest so securely you aren't sure it'll ever be breached.
"Fucking careless," he's saying. "What the fuck am I supposed to do if you..."
You tighten your hand on his when you realize his fingers are around yours.
His breath catches and you aren't able to meet his eyes, to see what might be lodged in his gaze. You look down at the bandage plastered to your side. “What?” You ask, “what the fuck are you supposed to do if what?”
Marc meets your eyes. “If you fucking died. What am I supposed to do if you die?” He grips your hand hard, his eyes like flint. “I thought I lost you. The blood. You lost so much-,”
His voice shakes to a stop.
“Don’t have to worry about that,” you say. “As long as you’re here, I’m here.” Your voice is thin and you don’t say it feels like there’s still a chance, like you’re on the ropes and it could go either way.
Marc dips his head, presses your hand to his forehead. “Oh yeah? Why’s that?”
“It’s what we do.”
He’s silent for a long time, holding your hand to his skin. “Yeah,” he mutters eventually. “It is.”
Marc lowers your hand, presses a kiss to your blood sticky lips. You feel the ghost of his breath across your lips, the grip of his fingers against your jaw, sliding over the bandage on your temple, not letting you look away from him as he presses in close to you, beside you on that small cot.
Your head finds his chest. “Don’t fall asleep,” he rumbles. “You have a concussion.”
You nod, listen to his heart, and decide if things take a turn for the worse, it won’t be such a bad way to go. But only if Marc doesn’t insist on following you.
268 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hiii, hope im not bothering or anything, this is my first time writing to someone like this so i hope this makes sense. I always wondered how come the twins had the same powers tbh, it makes sense why tsu has his abilities, bc hes somehow possessed by the monster in the red house, but how come hanako does too?
Hanako mentioned his “cape mode” is a power he borrowed from god. Cape mode is activated when his hakojoudai is close to his chest as another post i don’t remember pointed out. Going back to the red house arc, there was that scene with baby tsukasa where the supernatural that possessed him spoke from his chest, and there was a black hole in the middle of his torso, which, if we go back a little more in the earlier chapters, when hanako and teru first fought, there was a scene where hanako was beaten down with a black hole in his chest too, similar placement as baby tsukasas. If we go back to the red house arc, when tsukasa told amane about the thing living in their house, amane asked smth like “it grands wishes? Is god living in our house?” And i think tsukasa confirmed it if im not mistaken, or some thing of the sort.
So, my question is, do you think theres a chance the og supernatural has a hold of both somehow, or am i js going crazy?😭 thank you for ur time🫶💕 (i couldn’t find the last ref photo, sorry😭)
Aww, bother me? 🥹 of course not, you can ask me as much as you want 💕
Are you talking about this post?
You're definitely not crazy hahaha the twins seem to have a connection with this creature, even in the pilot manga Hanako appears with this black hole in his chest.
It even suggests that the three of them have a strong bond. Now, how this happened is the key point.
There are several possibilities, come check it out with me
1st Amane created a bond with the creature when she saved his life, curing him of the illness he had as a child
2nd Amane may have created a greater bond while living with the new Tsukasa, the younger brother never hid the existence of this creature from Amane, so he may have done something that linked him with this thing.
3rd Amane may have… devoured Tsukasa's heart right after the murder, turning him supernatural and giving birth to Hanako.
4th Amane may have devoured some part of this creature.
The last two alternatives are emblematic, because they raise other questions, why would Amane do this? Why would he want to become a supernatural?
It seems that Amane betrayed this God when he stabbed Tsukasa and this God made Amane not die. You understand? He made Amane become a supernatural so he couldn't rest in death, and at some point they came to an agreement.
Hanako has to do something to "erase" his sins so he can free himself. Perhaps this connection with this creature was born from this contract, and in order for him to use Hakujoudai, he needs to have a connection.
It seems that the joudais are used to spy and keep the two under surveillance. Hanako has something to do, and he has this divine "protection" that only works when the Joudai adheres to his chest, where this "hole" is, that is, a direct connection with the creature.
So, your suspicions are well founded!
#jibaku shounen hanako kun#toilet bound hanako kun#jshk#tbhk#hanako kun#aidairo#amane yugi#yugi twins#hanakokun#jshk spoilers#jshk amane#jshk tsukasa#jshk hanako#jshk theories#tbhk spoilers#tbhk hanako#tbhk manga#tbhk tsukasa
18 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
gayplaychoices
Ren
dasryani
Hi
poweryourselfzonnepanelen
PowerYourselZonnepanelen
satelitis
ROBIN
castintothevoid
Nobody is meant to read this