Tumgik
#tsu
avakkins · 2 months
Text
Tumblr media
Fuwamoco | Tsu
211 notes · View notes
jungle-golf · 2 months
Text
Tumblr media
rainy day hero 🐸
181 notes · View notes
gruntlinger · 1 year
Photo
Tumblr media
glare
1K notes · View notes
frickingnerd · 8 months
Text
tsuyu crushing on a dense reader
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
pairing: tsuyu asui x gn!reader
tags: oblivious reader, fluff, crushing
Tumblr media
tsuyu is a very direct person, that speaks her mind and doesn't hide how she feels
she always thought she had made clear how she felt about you, being as open as she could about her feelings for you
and yet, that didn't seem to be enough, as you still seemed to be completely oblivious about her crush on you
tsuyu was being as patient as she could with you, wanting to give you time to figure out for yourself how she felt about you
but slowly time started to run out for the two of you, as you wouldn't stay at UA forever and would eventually have to part ways
and tsuyu really didn't want to leave her feelings for you unsaid, so eventually she decided that she'd have to be as clear as possible with you the next time the two of you would meet
though even then, when she confessed to you telling you she liked you then even saying that she loved you, you still didn't get the message, replying with an "oh, i love you too! you're my best friend after all!" 
it was there that tsuyu gave up on words and instead let her actions speak
she cupped your cheeks and pulled you into a kiss, drawing it out for as long as she could, only pulling away once she needed to breathe again
after the kiss, your face slowly started to turn red as suddenly all the events of the last few months started to look quite different to you
all the times tsuyu said she loved you, all the times you held hands and cuddled… you couldn't help but get flustered as you realized her intentions behind it
"o-oh… that's what you meant…!" 
Tumblr media
132 notes · View notes
monkeychief1904 · 6 months
Text
DOODLE TIME!! Hanging in VC drawing some Half life! Also did some TSU stuff for @racmune!!
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
70 notes · View notes
meadow-roses · 4 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
hot cocoa!
45 notes · View notes
Text
Tumblr media
212 notes · View notes
faithfulgalaxy · 2 months
Text
Tumblr media
I forgot to post this
40 notes · View notes
donutwatches · 2 months
Text
MHA 2.19 - Everyone's Internship
So I got out of a 3 hour long power outage and started making this post, but the power went out AGAIN. I was getting worried that I wouldn't be able to post today, but I have resorted to finishing this on my phone!
Only 1 part for this episode since I am pretty sure most of it was filler.
Tumblr media
I love this Seal Hero. Does he only exist in filler? He is cute.
Tumblr media
Ok so the Froppy side-quest was fun, but I don't have a ton to say about it so....let's skip forward.
Tumblr media
So what did you do for your internship? Oh, I just helped handle a HOSTAGE SITUATION.
Tumblr media
Meanwhile, our tough guys are cleaning trash in the park (also an important job mind you). It reminds me of Deku cleaning the beach.
Tumblr media
I LOOOOOVE this as an internship for Uraraka. She really locked in to working on hand-to-hand combat after her experiances at the Sports festival. I just hope we get to see her put these skills to use.
Tumblr media
I never thought I would see an image of Uraraka swinging a knife. Yes girl, stab me.
Tumblr media
Say what you want about Bakugo, but he is efficient. It is always on sight, no questions.
Tumblr media
No.
This made me laugh way more than it should have.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
This is the exact sort of PR lesson that Bakugo needs. Someone like Stain would scoff at this, but BJ (lol) is right that presentation matters. People are more likely to trust a hero with a good image.
Bakugo is adorable with his new hair style and those jeans, 😆.
Tumblr media
Ah. The brutal honesty of children. Something tells me this is going to end badly.
Tumblr media
It is like his Dad is telling him to do his chores. Basic politeness is hard work for Bakugo. Best Jeanist is asking A LOT just by telling him not to scream at children.
Tumblr media
Aaanndd who could have predicted this outcome? His insecurity runs hella deep for him to get so defensive because of little kid comments.
The way Bakugo's hair poofed back up when he yelled is comedy gold.
Tumblr media
Something tells me an angry Pomeranian on the lose is going to have a starring role in these kids nightmares come bedtime.
Bakugo is terrible but so funny to me, idc.
Click here for the masterlist
Click for episode 20
45 notes · View notes
hkartincolor · 9 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
9 years of Froppy
83 notes · View notes
scoutsurge · 3 months
Text
Tumblr media
ARHGRHGR SMOKE AND SWITCHEROO!!! THEMM
46 notes · View notes
crazyfox-archives · 10 months
Photo
Tumblr media
Two stone relief images of Jizō Bodhisattva (地蔵菩薩), one standing, one seated, down in a little river gully a bit off the beaten path at Ishiyama Kannon (石山観音) in the outskirts of Tsu, Mie Prefecture
Image from the city’s official website
101 notes · View notes
half-a-life-left · 4 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
psychic attack!!!! you will watch The Scratched Universe NOW!!!!!!!!
Tumblr media
and some bonus old fanart i made last year!!!
29 notes · View notes
police : you’re under arrest for trying to carry three people on your back while using your quirk to speed through a highway.
Iida : what do you mean three?.
police: yes… three??-
Iida looking behind and starting to count : ...
police: sir?-
Iida : oh my god uraraka fell off.
203 notes · View notes
zaanesshaardz · 2 days
Text
hi the scratched universe/jumpsuit & fixer fans
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
plus matching pfps of them if any of yall want them
i’ll try n draw sum more of them, bonkbot, p-rick, foster, and others el oh elll
10 notes · View notes
The Sunshine Undertow (II)
Tumblr media
Pairing:   Oberyn Martell x f!reader**; Doran Martell x f!reader; Marcus Pike x f!reader (time travel/Outlander AU) (no use of y/n, reader uses a fake name)   Word Count: 9.0k Warnings: Smut, semi-public smut, language, mentions of rape (not the physical act), teasing, banter
**Main pairing for the fic. They are end game and the otp but things get messy and there are a lot of feelings across the board. (Gif/moodboard made by me)
Summary: Marcus takes her on a date. Oberyn sees her naked. And Doran knows she’s lying. Thank you so much to TJ @pettyprocrastination​ for taking a look at this and helping me get some of my confidence back. 
[Previous Chapter] * [Series Masterlist] * [Complete Masterlist] 
The Night She Disappeared 
He looked sharp in the black blazer and matching button down. 
“These are for you.”
Marcus stepped into her apartment and handed her a small bouquet of pink and white lilies. She returned the gesture with a kiss on his cheek before setting them in the kitchen. They’d be fine on the counter until they got back from the museum.
“They’re beautiful,” she grinned, slinging the long strap of her purse over her shoulder.
“Just like you,” he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her back in for a real kiss on the lips.
She laughed against his mouth. “Oh! So, you’re pulling out every cheesy stop in the book tonight?”
“You know it,” he smiled down at her, keeping her close.
“Are you going to open my door?”
“Yes.”
“Pull out my chair?”
“Yup.”
“Put your coat over the puddle to keep my shoes from getting wet?”
“Highly impractical, but of course I will.”
“Beat up the man at the bar who stares at me too long?”
“I will wait for him to buy you a drink first–you know, because of the economy.”
“Oh, sure, sure, sure,” she laughed. 
Marcus’s hand was warm in hers as they drove to the restaurant. He liked to hold her hand over the gear shift as he drove with his left–it was just something he always did, only letting go when he had to pass or turn on the wipers. He kissed her knuckles and held eye contact. He let her pick the radio station. His hand always found its way to the small of her back, like there was a magnet inside them both. When he slid into the booth at the restaurant and brushed his lips against the shell of her ear to compliment her dress, it made her lower stomach flip a little.
Everything was always, unequivocally about her. Her. Her. Her. 
Like he promised, he ordered the avocado egg rolls. They were annoyingly tasty. She ordered the chicken, him the steak–they traded bites off of each other’s fork. The food was delicious and they were disgustingly cute. It was enough to make guilt settle in the hollow of her throat about her earlier concerns during her middle of the week lecture. When it came to Marcus Pike–she had absolutely nothing to complain about. But if that were true, why did she feel so shitty about it all?
“You gotta work this weekend?” he asked, stabbing a roasted potato with his fork. 
“Like always,” she sighed, doing the same with a caper that was trying to roll away. 
“Saving lives,” he beamed and she scoffed. 
“More like pumping stomachs of alcoholic frat boys and stitching up thumbs that have fallen victim to kitchen accidents.” 
“It won’t be forever,” he encouraged her. “You’ll move on to your next practicum in December, right?”
“Yeah.” She took a sip of her wine.
He cut another piece off of his steak and pushed it around in the sauce before turning to face her, more head on. “You know if you hate it, you can always change careers?”
“I don’t hate it. It’s just that I’m…” she shrugged, feeling guilty for the weight of the conversation. Another thing to add to the already growing pile inside of her. 
“Burnt out?” He raised an eyebrow and she nodded again as he wiped his mouth on a napkin. “I get it.” 
She knew he did. If anything the definition of Marcus was ‘understanding’. He took everything in stride. It didn’t matter if it was his work or hers. His parents, halfway across the country in Texas. Her increasing irritations and mood swings about life. Nothing seemed to bother him. He rarely if ever got angry and when she brought it up he attributed it to his job and his desperate need to be a better man than his father. 
The chicken melted like butter against her tongue as the waiter offered them another glass of wine. She nodded enthusiastically while she chewed.
“Why don’t we go somewhere this year for Christmas? When you’re on winter break?” Marcus asked, breaking the silence.
She let out a short, abrupt laugh. “Really? What about your parents? They’re gonna freak out if we don’t come spend the week.”
“Meh,” he shrugged. “Let them. We could go somewhere warm. Crystal blue waters, palm trees, sex on the beach–”
“The drink or the activity?”
“Yes.”
They both laughed and she leaned her head on his shoulder. 
-
Marcus had taken them in the back door of the museum. He had expertly sorted through the hundreds of keys on his multiple rings and deactivated the alarm with the confident punch of a four digit code. 
Every shared look was a secret grin, a playful tongue and cheek. He seldom did anything outside the rules and his playful energy and slight buzz from wine at dinner was infectious. She couldn’t keep her hands off of him. She rubbed against the side of his body, nipping his ear as he worked the door, giggling against his shoulder as he fumbled his keys and tried to capture her mouth. 
“Focus,” she teased as he tried to put his hand under the hem of her dress and he scoffed. 
“Hard to focus with you looking like that,” he whispered as the door unlocked and he pulled her into the employee only area. 
The storage where the artifacts and paintings were stored when not on display was cluttered and dark. The fullness muffled the soft click of his dress shoes as he let the door shut a little too hard in favor of dropping his keys and grabbing her around the waist. Big hands and deft fingers pulling at the soft material of her sundress as she shoved his blazer to the floor and started pulling his button down out from its loose tuck. 
“Marcus,” she breathed and he groaned, pulling apart just long enough to pick up his discarded jacket and toss it over the nearest crate. She gave him a questioning look.
“So you don’t get splinters in your ass when I fuck you right here…” he leaned down and kissed her throat and she squeaked. 
“Wow–I forget how much I love Marcus without his inhibitions,” she teased and he pinched her thigh.
“I love you too, smartass.”
They pulled apart just long enough for her to hop on the crate, wiggling her butt back and spreading her legs so he could stand between her knees. His thick fingers reached between them to rub her through the silk of her panties while she worked on his belt. He was already hard against the soft front of his slacks and she couldn’t help but rub him through his pants as he pushed up her dress.
“You’re so pretty.”
His teeth at her neck were gentle, but each scrape left her wanting more. Harder. It was too much to ask for him to leave marks, that wasn’t his style. But it still sent goosebumps down her arms every time he added pressure. 
“No one’s on duty?” she asked against his mouth as he nosed her head up. 
“Joe is–but he sleeps at the desk and never comes in here.” He paused to give her another grin. “You’ll just have to keep quiet. I know that’s hard for y-OU..oof,�� he grunted as she tightened her grip on his dick at his quip.
His breath was hot against the shell of her ear as he gripped her ass, lifting her just enough to push inside her comfortably. Over and over. She clung to him. Nails dragging across his shoulders and wrinkling his dress shirt as he pushed her closer towards the edge. 
He deserved this. He had deserved the night out at his stupid favorite restaurant. He had deserved her doting affections, and her tender touches, and their shared laughter. When they were like this, she was no longer the ill-fitting puzzle piece. Things were as they should be. Things were good. Sex was their way back to one another, but she felt guilty being the only one who knew they had drifted apart to begin with. She could give him this. She could love him like this. 
“Marcus,” she gasped and he covered her mouth with his, muffling her cries as he pounded her hard enough to shake the crate she was perched on. 
“Like that?” he groaned and she nodded desperately.
“Just like that–like that–fuck, baby, please,” she whimpered and she reached down desperately for his hand, slapping his arm lightly until he gave it to her. She took his palm and placed it over her own mouth to stop herself from getting too loud. The action made his cock pulse inside of her. 
“Fuck, that’s hot,” he gave her cheeks a light squeeze and her eyes rolled back slightly. 
She knew better than to ask him to finish inside of her–Marcus was too careful for that. And she should have been thankful, but in the moment it was a different story. She knew he didn’t have a reckless bone in his entire body. 
His lips found hers in soft kisses, spaced between even breaths as he gripped her thighs, then her ass, like he couldn’t keep from touching her. He nosed at her chin, carefully biting his way down to her ear as he waited for his heart rate to slow. Marcus let out a deep hum of contentment as she threaded her fingers through his hair and held him close. 
“I meant to show you the exhibit,” he said gruffly and it made her smile. 
“I mean I have a pretty good view from here,” she joked, pointing towards one of the paintings on the wall. “Tell me about that one.”
“Which one?” Marcus turned his neck at an awkward angle to keep from having to leave the comfort of her arms. 
“The one with the lady–with the dark hair and the snakes?” she gestured again before going back to stroking his hair.
“Oh, that one,” he nodded. “One of my favorites–Princess Elia Martell. A tragic story, really.”
“Tragic?”
“Mhmm,” he hummed, laying his head on her chest.
“Tell me.”
Dorne - Now
The journey had taken four days. 
In four days she had been chased through the woods, nearly assaulted, and slept three nights sitting straight up on a horse. She had learned to relieve her aching bladder in the woods without falling ass first into a thorn bush. She had subsisted off of hard cheese and stale bread with the occasional dried meat that was reserved for every other day. Magnus had told her it was meat from a snake, she didn’t believe him…at least not entirely. But when Doran gave her a wink and a gentle nudge, she ate it anyway. She was too hungry to care even if it was.
Her ass hurt from the hard leather of the saddle. Her thighs were chafing and she cursed every fiber of her being for falling through time in a fucking sundress. She would have killed someone for a pair of leggings. Kicked a puppy for her mattress and pillow. She would have committed unspeakable sexual favors for her phone and all of her unread emails. She didn't want anyone to ask what she would have done for her toothbrush. 
She was dirty. Sweat and mud pooled in places that made her skin feel tight and itch with the need to be clean. She was certain that she smelled terrible, but the man at her back didn’t say anything. The prince at her back seemed perfectly content to keep his good arm around her waist for balance and make idle conversation with her while the others kept their distance. 
It was clear no one trusted her. She was an outsider, clearly not belonging and not willing to give them more information than was absolutely necessary. They didn’t ask and her lips stayed sealed. It was better that way. 
The first morning, when they had stopped at the river to refill their waterskins and give the horses a break, she had truly been able to look at Oberyn and what she saw nearly made her fall into the water. 
He looked…like Marcus. 
At first she thought her eyes were deceiving her. They were playing tricks on her and showing her what she desperately wanted and that was to see her boyfriend. Seeing Marcus would mean she was back in Boston. Back in her own time. Back where she belonged. But she wasn’t. And though the similarities were comically astute, the differences still shook her to her core. 
Oberyn had a dark line of facial hair, where Marcus was clean shaven. His skin was darker, more time in the sun, the elements, the climate of Dorne no doubt being vastly different than Massachusetts. In fact, everything about him seemed darker, from his coal black hair void of product to his striking eyes the color of river rocks stoic beneath the rushing water. The nose, however, was the exact same. Strong and slightly curved down the ridge. A prominent landmark of his handsome face. 
“What is it, princess?”
He had caught her staring. 
“Nothing,” she shook her head and turned back to the river, splashing her face with the icy water. She stood back up and went to the horse, wiping her hands on the cloak that hung off of the saddle. “You just–you just remind me of someone.”
His eyebrow raised with interest as he stepped closer to her. He lowered his voice as the other men moved along the bank around them. 
“Judging by the heat here,” he lightly touched his knuckle to the apple of her cheek. “And how quickly you looked away from me–do I remind you of your husband?”
She batted his hand away lightly. “He’s not my husband.”
"Betrothed?" He grinned at the admission and then again when she shook her head. “Your lover, then?”
“I guess that’s a good word for him,” she bit her lip and her chest felt tight. 
She didn’t know why she suddenly wanted to cry. She was exhausted beyond measure.  And it would be a lie to say she hadn’t found some comfort in Oberyn and Doran the last few days. The latter especially. Marcus was probably going out of his mind with worry. He was probably looking high and low, having called the police, her family, her job–and instead she had pulled another man’s arms around her tighter with each passing night. 
The excuses piled up. Most of them relied on her fear and the multitude of unknowns about her current situation. But even that didn’t make her feel any less guilty, especially when any attention from the princes made her gut tighten and her heart gallop. 
He had said her ‘name’ twice before she pulled herself from her thoughts and looked at him. 
“I’m sorry,” she shook her head and wiped the burning from her eyes. “What did you say?”
“I asked if he was no longer of this world,” Oberyn said, putting a hand on her elbow. “Your lover–is he not alive?”
“No,” she shut her eyes tightly as she suddenly couldn’t stop the tears. “No, I guess he’s not.” 
It was the truth. Hundreds of years in the past, Marcus wouldn’t even be born yet–so, technically, Oberyn was right in assuming he wasn’t alive. As ridiculous as the statement was, it still made her breath catch in her throat as she made a soft choking sound and pressed her hand over her eyes to hide the fact that she was about to cry. 
“Shh,” Oberyn soothed her with soft mouth sounds as he turned her away from the horse and pulled her into his embrace. “It’s alright. I apologize for asking, m’lady.”
“It’s–it’s f-fine,” she cried harder into his tunic as she let her forehead rest against his chest. “I’m sorry for,” she shook her head and hiccuped. “I’m sorry for crying–”
When she attempted to pull away, he kept his hold firm. “It’s alright.”
His hand pressed gently against her hair and it was the final straw. She sobbed. There was no other word for the dam of emotion that burst from her mouth, from deep inside her ribs. She let him hold her and she sobbed. The aches of fear, frustration, loneliness, uncertainty, insanity–all of it, came pouring out from the deepest parts of her soul and onto his chest. He quieted her gently, soft murmurs of his lips against her temple to let her know he was there, she was safe.
“Oberyn?” Doran asked as he approached and she felt the younger man shake his head lightly. 
The retreating sound of footsteps told her that they were alone again and she began to loosen her grip on his clothes. Now she was dirty and covered in tears and snot. How he didn’t find her repulsive was beyond her current reasoning. 
“Here,” he said quietly, leaning back just enough to hold a rag in front of her face.
She sniffed and took it, wiping her face and nose. “I’m sorry–”
“Keep your apologies,” he brushed his knuckle under her chin and gave her a kind smile. “They aren’t needed.”
“Thank you,” she whispered.
He nodded in acknowledgement before releasing her slowly. Nodding towards the horse, he put his hand on her waist. “I can’t use both hands,” he nodded towards his arm still in the sling. “But get your foot in the stirrup and I can give you a boost–as long as you don’t mind my hand on your ass.” 
He grinned and it caught her off guard just enough to make her cackle. He looked at her like she had lost her mind. And maybe she had, but she kept laughing. It felt better than crying.   
-
The mountains and forests soon gave way to sand. Large crags of rock and bare trees with gnarled branches stood stoic in the gentle breeze that blew hotly across the open. Most of the area was flat but off in the distance the dunes rose and dipped, and even further behind that stood the red mountains. Everything was shades of burnt orange. The land was made of sunshine and warmth as if the light touched it all and blessed it with an endless summer. 
Oberyn had tucked the blanket away in one of the saddle bags as soon as they had made it across the border. Doran pushed the horses a little harder. A little faster. The animals didn’t seem to mind, it was as if they could taste home. 
They breached the gates, three large archways that seemed to magically open the moment they came into range. The stone path bypassed the labyrinth that was the city itself and took them right up to the massive palace.
The stone and tan terracotta walls were offset with bronze ringlets that kept the gargantuan towers from all being one color. Large suns with swirling rays were perched on top of each tower, centered over almost every window, and fluttered in the middle of every flag. The sun glittered off of the mosaic trimmings that had been carefully pressed into the corners and the rooftops. 
Her face must have shown the level of her wonder because Oberyn chuckled and leaned down by her ear to be heard over the sound of the hooves against the cobblestone.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?”
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” she agreed, leaning forward a bit in the saddle. 
“Do they not have palaces like this in the Massachusetts Kingdom?”
His question was so earnest, she only laughed a little. “Not even close.” 
“Well,” he leaned back, pulling up on the reins a bit as they broke through the last gate and up the incline to a set of large, open doors. “Welcome to Sunspear.”
Sunspear.
The name was incredibly fitting. Just like the planet, the palace seemed to be what the entire city revolved around. It was bright and warm and yet, as they got closer, she noted the sentries on the winding walls, and the guards at the entrance with a few people ready to receive them. It was both beautiful and deadly in equal parts.
Lewyn and Magnus rode up first, dismounting with grace and immediately passing off their mounts to the waiting stablehands. They exchanged greetings with a few men in fighting leathers and what appeared to be the customary orange and yellow tunics of the city. 
“Magnus!” a gruff voice called out and they looked towards an old man, limping his way towards the horses. “What have you done to my Sevana?” He thrust his cane into the hands of a younger stable hand and lovingly stroked the nose of the horse that Magnus had jumped off of. 
“I didn’t do anything, Mel,” Magnus scoffed. “I been riding all night, and I don't need you squalling in my ear.”
“Did you even look at her feet?” Mel raised his voice as he bent over and tapped the beast on the leg and inspected her hooves once she lifted them. 
“What am I supposed to do with her f–”
“She served us well, Melvan,” Doran interrupted, making his own horse stop beside the others. “We couldn’t have made it without any of them.”
“Your grace,” Melvan bowed slightly. “You can't expect any beast to carry around something that weighs as much as Magnus without taking care of the poor creature's feet.”
“Listen, you old man–” Magnus started.
“It’s like a cow riding a mouse,” Melvan exclaimed.
She couldn’t stop the giggle that came from her lips and it was much louder than she intended. As all of their heads turned towards her, Oberyn broke into a coughing fit that effectively hid her outburst. He waved them away as if to signal he was alright and when they turned back around he pinched her hip. She glared at him.
“Doran! Oberyn!” 
They once again all turned collectively towards the ornate doors of the palace as a woman squealed and called their names. It was hard to miss the large smiles that both men suddenly wore as she ran down the incline. 
She wore teal silks that rippled in the wind created by her movement. Her earrings jingled and the gold bangles on her wrists made her sound like a walking windchime. Her dark hair was pinned back with an ornate array of pearls held together with gold thread, and it still nearly fell to her waist. She had the bronze skin and dark eyes of the Princes but her smile was as breathtaking as the palace.
“You’re back early!” she squealed again as Doran dismounted and she threw her arms around his neck. 
He grunted, but caught her around the waist as he hugged her tight enough to lift her off the ground. “We had a bit of good luck.”
“I mi–” She started to respond but wrinkled her nose instead and started to push against his shoulders in an effort to get back on the ground. “You smell awful, brother.”
“Do I?” he raised an eyebrow as she took a step back. “Well, in that case…” 
He caught her around the waist and rubbed his greasy curls on her shoulder as she laughed and protested. Her small hands shoved at him as she tried to turn and reached to Oberyn for help. “Get off! Disgusting–Oberyn!”
The younger brother slid down from the saddle and held up a finger for her to wait a minute as he reached up and helped her off of the horse. It felt good to have her feet on solid ground. Even if it was filled with more unknowns, it felt good to be somewhere stationary, somewhere that hopefully had a bed or at the very least a couch. 
The woman had managed to untangle herself from Doran and shoved him playfully as she hurried over to Oberyn and hugged him tightly around the neck. 
“Oh, hey, hey,” he chuckled quietly as he put a large hand in her hair and angled her body away from his arm still in the makeshift sling. 
“You’re hurt,” she pulled away just enough to look at him. “I knew something was wrong. I knew it. I told Aero but he wouldn’t listen–”
“We’ll talk about this later and you can give me an earful about how you’re always right. But first,” Oberyn turned her slightly and gestured to the other woman by the horse. “Mistress Lily Pike,” he nodded to the woman who had his arm around her shoulders. “Elia Martell–princess of Dorne.”
Her heart stopped–the woman from the painting.
“Your sister?” 
“Hard to believe I know,” she said with mock sincerity. “Thank the gods I was blessed with mother’s good looks.”
“But none of her common sense,” Oberyn muttered and Elia elbowed him in the ribs hard enough to make him grunt out a puff of air.
“Where did you find this one, brother?” Elia jerked her head to the other woman and the Prince smiled.
“Doran found her,” he started to explain but stopped, a tightness settled in his mouth that she didn’t quite understand, but he shook it off quickly. “Insisted she come with us.”
“Well, you look like you’re in need of a hot bath and some food,” Elia nodded. “And most definitely ten minutes of peace from this sorry band of ruffians.”
“Honestly, if you could give me somewhere vaguely flat, I’d be ecstatic,” she laughed. “I’m tired of sleeping sitting up on a moving animal.”
“Oh, you poor thing,” Elia looked positively appalled as she took her hand and started to pull her away from the group. “Let’s get you cleaned up and fed…and some better clothes.” Elia eyed the dirty, torn sundress with curiosity.
“Thank you, sister.”
“Thank you, Elia.”
The brothers said almost in perfect unison behind them as the princess waved them off and kept walking. She stopped short when the new woman stopped walking and looked back over her shoulder. Elia gave her a quizzical look before following her gaze.
“What about him?” she asked, nodding to Oberyn. When Elia raised an eyebrow, she continued. “He’s hurt–more than he lets on.”
“I’m fine, Lady Pike,” Oberyn started to protest but she cut him off.
“He’s not fine,” she shook her head. “I bandaged his side but I didn’t have the right supplies. It could get infected–you know, with fever, and–and swelling?” She tried to explain in terms that were more common for the time but Elia looked like she understood. 
The princess nodded before looking back to Oberyn with her hands on her hips. “You heard the lady–come along.”
Oberyn rolled his eyes and huffed loudly, but he followed.
Elia moved around the room as she collected the things that were needed. She seemed curious about Pike but not distrusting in the least. She listened, and nodded, and offered suggestions as the other woman tried to remember natural remedies from the botany class she took last year. Fuck, she should have taken better notes. 
The room they were in now was off to the side of the kitchens on the first floor. It was a warm, bright room that had spices and dried plants and vegetables hanging from racks and shelves. Elia pulled a wooden stool over to the fireplace and shoved Oberyn down into it, standing on her tiptoes in order to do so. 
An iron pot hung off of a hook over the flames once Elia had dumped water into it along with a handful of plants that she had first smelled and inspected. 
“That’s the queen’s skirt flower,” Elia said as the other woman pulled down a white, spindly plant. “You can use that? I thought it was a weed.”
“Back home it’s called anise,” Pike explained, breaking off the heads and putting them in the pot. “This–biloba,” a fan shaped plant went in next, “And most importantly–garlic,” she added a few bulbs into the pot from the dry storage shelves.
“And they do what, exactly?”
“Clean the wound before you bandage it,” she explained as Oberyn watched her carefully.
The princess handed a spoon and she started to slowly stir the items into the water as it heated up. She cleared her throat and smoothed her teal skirts before sitting up on the table, hands clasped in her lap. “Where did you learn this?”
“I’m going to school to be a doct–a healer,” she corrected, remembering Oberyn’s earlier confusion. 
“And where are you learning that? Where is home for you, Lady Pike?” Elia asked, tucking her hands under her thighs. 
“Far away.” She focused intently on stirring the pot and not looking at the other woman. 
“She’s from the kingdom of Massachusetts,” Oberyn enunciated the strange word very particularly and Elia raised a brow. 
“I’ve never heard of that place,” the princess shook her head. “How ever did you wind up here?”
“I–” she bit her lip as her chest suddenly felt tight again. She couldn’t possibly explain the truth to them, but she didn’t have an alternate story. Her shoulders clenched and she could feel the sweat along her brow as she continued to avoid eye contact with the royals at her back. Suspicious didn’t even begin to cover her behavior, but she wasn’t sure what to do about it either. 
“My sister loves to ask questions,” Oberyn came to her rescue. “She asks more questions than anyone I’ve ever met and it is dreadfully irritating. She also clearly cannot tell when someone is trying to concentrate.”
“If you weren’t injured, I’d shove you off that stool,” Elia boasted, sticking her tongue out at him as he chuckled. 
“You’re distracting my nurse. How is she ever supposed to patch me up with you squawking in her ear?” Oberyn gestured to her and when she looked over her shoulder at him, he winked.  
Bastard.
“I do not squawk!” Elia protested and it made the other woman smile. “Lady Pike, I’m going to go get some things together for you–I’ll be back. And if my brother isn’t in one piece when I return, I’ll assume it’s because he annoyed you and deserved it.”
“Thank you.” That made her laugh as she nodded her head in thanks. Before the princess left, she stopped stirring to look back at her. “Also, you can call me Lily, your…highness,” she hesitated, the title not normally part of her daily vocabulary. 
“And you may call me Elia,” she returned the favor with a kind smile before leaving quietly. “I’ll be back soon.”
The room quieted around the two of them as the sound of her footsteps quietly echoed down the hallway. She felt Oberyn watching her with quiet interest as she pressed the spoon into the pot, crushing a few of the ingredients slightly. She picked up a few of the clean strips of cloth that Elia had provided, dropping them in the water using the spoon to gently submerge them. 
Movement caught her gaze from the side as Oberyn used his good arm to remove his shirt. She tried not to stare at the broad lines of his tan chest, the sparse dusting of hair, and an impressive barrage of scars of various sizes and shapes telling stories of violence and reckless behavior. 
Oberyn watched her carefully as she pulled the strips of cloth from the pot and wrung them out. She turned her own stool to face him as she started to undo the belt and shawl that had served as a sling for the last few days. 
“Magnus will be glad to have his belt back,” Oberyn observed, making conversation as she peeled the old bandages away from his stab wound. 
“I’m sure the rest of us will be glad he has it back, too,” she quipped and he chuckled.
“I can’t imagine why you wouldn’t want to see his bare ass.”
They shared a soft laugh and her fingers pressed gently on his side to angle him where she needed. He was pliant under her touch, only jumping slightly when she touched his upper ribs. She made a mental note that he was ticklish as she moved to clean the wound. 
“Can you hold your arm up just a bit–there, perfect,” she nodded as she cleaned the dried blood, carefully avoiding the already forming scab. “It’s not infected. Does it hurt?”
“Shoulder? Yes. This?” he gestured to the stab wound and shook his head. “No. I’ve had worse.” He paused before adding, “Much worse.”
“I can see that.” She dropped the soiled pieces of cloth onto the floor as she grabbed new ones. “I’m sure you have good stories to tell.”
“Loads of them, princess.” He grinned as she lightly tied a longer strip of cloth around his waist to keep the dressing in place. “I’ll have to tell you sometime.”
She bit her lip to stay quiet and instead just nodded. She didn’t want to offend him, but she had no intention of being here long enough for that. She had to get back. Back to Boston. Back to Marcus. She had a life and did not belong in this place, let alone in this century. 
He continued to watch her as she continued to work. His soft, brown eyes were equal parts comforting and unnerving–they reminded her so much of Marcus. She cleared her throat quietly and moved the pile of rags to the table. With the stab wound cleaned and covered, she moved back to the pot and stirred it slowly, careful not to slosh the contents. 
Oberyn cleared his throat quietly and leaned forward on the stool. 
“You know you don’t have to be afraid–you’re safe here.” His voice was gentle as she looked over her shoulder at him. “Especially when you’re with me.”
She bit her lip gently and nodded. “What about when I’m not with you?” 
His face sombered slightly as he rolled the tension out of his shoulders. “Just remember you’re an outsider in a world on the brink of war–I don’t envy you for that, Mistress Pike.”
Her bare ass was on a table, rhythmically rocking back and forth with a soft thud against the wall as her knees clenched up around his torso. She felt protected. Safe and cherished as big hands pinned her hips in place and held her still. Slightly chapped lips dragged along her collarbone and up her neck before whispering in her ear.
“Princess.”
He had never called her that. Marcus typically stuck with the usual terms of endearment. Sweetheart. Babe. Doll. She whimpered softly and clutched him tighter. Her sex stretching to accommodate his girth as he pinned her with his thrusts. 
“Open your eyes,” the voice whispered again as he nipped her ear lobe. “Look at me when I make you come.”
She did as she was told, her lashes fluttering as she raised her gaze expecting Marcus to be looking down at her. But it wasn’t.
Those dark brown eyes bore into her soul as her fingers gently cupped his face and ran along the black hair of his jaw. He kissed her lips like he intended on consuming her with teeth and tongue. She would go willingly into the vortex of his mouth. She wanted to be consumed. Swallowed and kept safe. 
“Keep your eyes on me, Princess.”    
She sat up straight in an avalanche of pillows and gasped. Her breathing was not ragged but her heart was trying to beat out of her chest as she looked around the unfamiliar bedroom. The events of the last week came crashing down on her as she realized this still wasn’t some crazy dream. 
She had been dreaming of fucking one of the princes. It was a toss up on if it was Oberyn or Doran who had been railing her on the table but neither was acceptable. 
Fuck.
After she had patched up Oberyn, Elia had taken her to her room. It was gorgeous. A room that one expected to find in a lavish palace. A room fit for royalty. She kept thinking the ridiculousness of it all would eventually wake her up from this bizarre dream and she would be back in Boston. But so far, it was all still very real. 
The bed was massive, awaiting her with emerald blankets and a mountain of tasseled pillows, and she all but belly flopped into it before passing out from pure exhaustion. It hugged her comfortably, much more than the bedroll on the ground outside or the back of the horse had. Her aching limbs and joints sang an angel’s chorus each time she rolled over. 
The bedroom opened to the outside, gossamer curtains blowing gently in the breeze gave the illusion of privacy as they beckoned out into an open wading pool surrounded by unlit sconces. The air blew the water in a gentle, rhythmic lapping against the stone of the steps as the early morning sun glittered off the surface. Was there not a single thing in this place that wasn’t heart wrenchingly gorgeous?
She lifted her arm slightly and sniffed. She definitely should have taken a bath before she went to bed last night but she didn’t have it in her. Now, it was unavoidable. 
As if someone had prepared for her eventual train of thought–a small table had been placed at the entrance to the pool with everything she needed. Glass bottles filled with some type of rose oils, a bar of plain homemade soap, and a stack of lush towels. 
Dipping her toes in the water told her it was a little chilly. The sun had yet to fully come up and warm it but it would have to do. It was either tepid water or spend another minute smelling like a horse–she chose the former. 
“S-shit,” she gasped as she stepped off the stairs and fully submerged, shoving her hair out of her face and clutching her chest. Goosebumps went down both arms as her nipples pebbled from the drastic temperature change. It wasn’t exactly terrible but it wasn’t nearly as good as her own shower in her apartment.  
“Cold?” 
She squealed, trying desperately to blink the water droplets from her eyes as she spun around to find the voice that hadn’t been there a second ago. As soon as her vision cleared she saw a smirking Oberyn, staring down at her with his thumb hooked into his belt.
He wore what appeared to be leather riding pants, a loose white shirt was tucked haphazardly in his belt and open enough to reveal his chest. His injured arm was still in a sling but he looked much better than it had the night before–at least he was caring for it properly. Fuck, he was handsome. Handsome enough that it pissed her off. 
“What are you doing in my room?” she glared at him, keeping her arms over her chest. The water was clear so she had no doubt he could see plenty, but the principle of the action made her feel better.
“It’s my palace.” 
“You mean your brother’s palace?” she snapped and he chuckled.
“Same thing–we share well.”
She felt like there was an innuendo that went over her head and it made her frown. “Do you always sneak in on your guests?” 
“Of course not, lady Pike. I knocked,” he turned slightly and gestured back towards the door. “But you didn’t answer. Considering trouble seems to follow you everywhere, I let myself in.” He paused and grinned again. “I was only concerned for your safety, princess.”
“Ha!” she rolled her eyes and shook her head. “You’re unbelievable.” 
“Thank you.”
“Well, as you can see,” she swept her arm out around the pool. “I’m perfectly fine. Now, get out.”
He had sat down on the edge of the pool and leaned his upper body back against one arm as he continued to look at her. Nothing but arrogance and audacity. 
“What are you doing?” she balked.
“Sitting,” he inspected his well trimmed nails like he was bored.
“While I bathe?” she asked. “In case you haven’t noticed–I’m naked. So, get o–”
“Trust me, I noticed.” He smirked without looking up and she had the overwhelming desire to slap him. “Besides, what if you start to drown?” he asked with a shrug.
“The water is barely five feet deep. I think I can manage.”
“Yes, but you’re very tired. You could fall asleep and sink under,” he offered. 
“Get. Out.” She tried again. 
“What if you need to wash the middle of your back and you can’t reach?” 
“Oh, and you’re going to be the one to help me?” she bit back and he nodded. “You have some nerve–”
The door opened again and they both turned and looked at Elia entering the bed chamber. Was walking in someone’s bedroom whenever they wanted a fucking family trait? She sank lower into the water and grabbed the bar of soap from the ledge. 
“Oberyn?” Elia asked as she approached. “What are you doing here?”
“We were just discussing that actually,” he offered up a big, innocent smile, and she suddenly wanted to drown herself. 
“Knowing you,” Elia stomped over to him and grabbed him by the back of his shirt. “You were being a vouyer–how many times has that gotten you into trouble?” He started to respond as he allowed her to pull him to his feet, but she cut him off. “I’ll answer that. Too many, brother, too many!”
She was much smaller than he was but she turned him around and pressed both hands against his back and dipped her head, using her momentum to begin shoving him towards the door. He chuckled and looked over his shoulder at her and winked. He fucking winked. 
“Doran wants to see you, Lady Pike,” he called over his sister’s head. “That was my actual reason for coming in.” That bastard.
“Yes, yes,” Elia nodded. “I am well aware of what our brother wants. I’ve got it from here.”
“Enjoy your bath!” he called.
“Out!” Elia huffed as she gave him one last shove through the threshold and shut the door hard. She smoothed her hands down her dress and flipped her long black hair over her shoulders, righting herself once again. “My apologies about him, my lady,” she said as she came back towards the pool. 
“Is he always like that?” she asked, running the soap over her shoulders and sinking down to do the same to her aching feet. 
“Since the day he was born,” she blew a puff of air up to ruffle her own bangs. “Trust me, I was there.” She moved to the other side of the room and pulled out a stack of clothing that she had hastily laid out last night and started going through the items. “I’ll help you get dressed and then you can go see Doran.”
“Okay,” she nodded, suddenly feeling small. “Am–am I in trouble of some kind?”
Elia paused as she turned around and held the items to her breasts and looked taken aback. “Gods, no. What would make you say that?” She shook her head and placed her choices on the table with the towels. “I’m sure he wants to check on you–you’re a guest of the house Martell. It’s his princely duty to make sure you’re doing alright.”
That made her chest feel less tight as she finished lathering up her body and rinsed. Elia made her way to her discarded pile of old clothes and started picking them up off the floor.
“I have a thousand and one questions of my own for you, but I’ll refrain from asking until you’re more settled in.”
“That’s fair,” she nodded. 
“I do have one question, though,” Elia prompted as she turned around with her bra dangling from her finger. “What by the goddess is this? It looks dreadfully painful.”
Elia had helped her dress. She had listened intently as she made up a lie about where she had gotten her modern day bra and sundress. She was certain she would be found out but the princess just nodded with quiet fascination. 
When the sun was high in the sky, Dorne grew hot. It was clear the land was an endless summer, a warm breeze in the sands, a tropical paradise that required light, airy clothing that she wasn’t entirely upset about. The soft fabric left her midriff exposed and when she tried to cover it up, Elia had gently pulled her arms down and told her she looked exquisite. Her arms were bare and the dress slit up both sides to allow for adequate movement and air flow. 
The palace was massive. She had never seen a bigger building in her entire life and without a map she was certain she would get lost. Without a tour guide or flashing neon sign, she was destined to never find her room again. 
Her stomach growled while getting dressed and Elia had taken her to the kitchens for a quick bite. Her nerves didn’t allow for much more than a piece of fruit and hunk of bread but it would suffice for now. She was disappointed to see the princess go after depositing her in a study-like room with Doran. But Elia gave her another reassuring smile and shut the door quietly. 
“Lady Pike,” Doran smiled as he walked over to her and took her hand gently, kissing the back of her knuckles in greeting. “May I call you Lily?”
“That’s….fine,” she nodded, momentarily forgetting that her entire existence here was a lie down to her name. 
“How are you?” He released her hand and guided her to the table, pulling out a chair for her before taking his own. 
“Better now that I got a full night’s sleep not on the back of a horse,” she smiled, trying to offer pleasant conversation. She could do this. She could do this. Less was more. If she kept it simple, she could lie her way through a basic conversation. 
“Yes, that makes all the difference,” he chuckled with a nod. “Is the room to your liking?” he asked.
‘Apart from your brother barging in on me naked’, she wanted to say, but she refrained. She was talking to a prince for christ’s sake. A fucking prince. She didn’t know the first thing about what she should or shouldn’t say to this man. She was a med student from Boston. She was just a girl. 
“It’s stunning,” she nodded quickly before adding, “...your–er grace.”
“Please call me Doran,” he insisted and she nodded again, putting her hands in her lap. He grabbed two small cups and a glass bottle. “Wine?”
“It's morning?” she blurted without thinking and when he gave her a small grin she couldn’t help but return it. “Sure, why not?”
“Dornish wine is the best wine in the seven kingdoms,” he offered as he poured them both a small amount. “But I’m biased.”
She took a small sip, his casual and kind demeanor made some of the tension leave her shoulders. Fuck. That was good. She took another drink, slowly looking around at the shelves of books and trinkets, scrolls and a table covered in old maps and tiny statues. This had to be his personal space. She wasn’t sure what she expected but it was more cluttered than she thought it would be. Where was his throne? His crown? Did he even have one? She was letting her mind wander to every period piece of media she had ever consumed. She was certain not all of it was based in fact.
The balcony opened up to a glorious view of the city and the waves of the ocean could be heard crashing against the rocks in the distance. This place was by every definition of the word and paradise and if she wasn’t so completely out of her element, she would have enjoyed being here. 
“I–uh,” she swallowed thickly and put her cup down. “Doran?”
“Yes?”
“I’ll need to travel back to the Red Mountains as soon as possible.” She tried to sound confident, but she was anything but. Even if she made it to the place she had fallen through time, it was still a mystery as to how she was supposed to get back.
“Is that how you plan on traveling back to your home?” he asked, stroking his beard thoughtfully. “To Massachusetts?” When she nodded he frowned. “I’ve been doing my research, Lady Pike, and I have no record of such a place ever existing.”
“You looked into me?”
“Is it not my duty as Prince of Dorne?”
“Well,” she swallowed hard as she folded her hands in her lap and tried to appear calm. “What did you find?”
“Nothing.” He leaned his hand on the desk and gave her a stern look. “Nothing about your late husband either. Or his house. Or which of the families he served.”
“I can assure you–” she tried and he held up his hand and shook his head.
“Think very carefully before you continue to lie to me.”
Her stomach dropped as Doran’s tone became serious. She had never heard him speak in such a way and it made her want to puke. They held eye contact for a moment, his amber gaze burning into her own in such a way that she felt a bead of sweat run down the nape of her neck from her hairline. 
“I’m not lying.” She hated how meek her voice sounded.
“Perhaps not,” he crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. “But you’re not being truthful either.”
“What do you want me to do?” she asked and he sighed.
“I understand you are in an unfamiliar place and want to have your secrets,” he continued. “But I do wish to know how, a lady such as yourself, came to be wandering about in the woods, dressed in nothing but her shift?”
She bit her lip gently and tried to formulate her next words carefully. It was probably best to stick to the truth as much as possible but even she was having a hard time grappling with it. How could she possibly expect him to believe her?
“I’m,” she sat up straighter. “A widow.” That was technically true–Marcus wasn’t born and therefore not alive.
“Oberyn said as much. My apologies.”
“I was traveling with a servant,” she hesitated, trying not to make it sound like a question. “When we were robbed.”
“Robbed? How awful.”
“Yes, robbed,” she nodded and the paranoid part of her brain swore she saw the prince start to grin before clearing his throat. “I managed to escape the bandits, I was forced to abandon my horse and my stuff–I ran across that horrible man in the woods–”
“Rhaegar?”
“Yeah–him.”
“Rhaegar Targaryen.”
“You say that like that’s supposed to mean something to me?” she quipped before she could stop herself and he chuckled. 
“The Targaryen’s are the ruling family of the seven kingdoms–”
“I don’t care who he is,” she snapped, crossing her arms over her chest. “He tried to rape me.”
“And for that I’m very sorry, but he is a knight–”
“What does that have to do with anything? You saw him. You stopped him with his hand up my dress! You saved me!” She could feel her voice getting higher and she hated the tears of frustration that had started to burn behind her eyes. 
“I beg your forgiveness, my lady. An unfortunate turn of phrase on my part.” He stood slightly and moved his chair closer to her and lowered his voice. “I need you to understand something.”
“What’s that?” She kept her arms close to her body, closing herself off from him as much as she could. In the short time she knew him, she was certain that Doran was one of the very few people who didn’t mean her any harm. 
“You have managed to cross paths with one of the most powerful men in the new world,” he said quietly and she felt like she was going to be sick again. “But he has no power here. Dorne has managed to maintain its freedom from the dragons at our door–you are safe here.”
His words were similar to what Oberyn had told her the night before. Why were they both so concerned with her safety? Just who had she encountered in the woods? This larger than life man who made princes walk on eggshells–
“I just want to go home,” she said quietly, looking at the floor and shutting her eyes. 
“I’ll try my best to make that happen,” Doran nodded, leaning back in his seat and taking a large drink of wine. “I’ll have my brother escort you personally. He is due to check in with the Yornwoods Saturday next and would be happy to have you.”
“Saturday next? Which is how long?” She had no idea what day it even was. Fuck. This just kept getting worse.
“In five days.” 
“Five days?” she asked with surprise. “What am I supposed to do for five days?”
“That is the soonest anyone can escort you.” He stood up and walked behind the desk, resting his back by putting his hands on the surface. “Until then, the palace and the city are humbly yours.”
“That’s very nice of you,” she stood up as well, feeling as if she was about to be dismissed. When Doran remained silent, she started to move towards the door but his words stopped her. 
“Maybe one day soon, you’ll trust me with your secrets, Lady Pike,” he looked down and poured himself another glass of wine. 
“I doubt that.”
Her unabashed tone made him grin.
“There is a formal dinner tomorrow evening in the main hall–I’d like you there as my guest. One of my siblings will collect you when it’s time.”
It wasn’t a question. It was an order phrased like an invitation. With a nod, she quickly left before she could open her mouth and get herself into more trouble than she already was. 
--
A/N: I am not doing taglists for this story--they are more trouble than they are worth at this point with very little pay off. I apologize for that. If you enjoy it, let me know!
217 notes · View notes