#bc of reasons and happy ace day!

[beaulesbian]

Luffy & Zoro + text posts [1/?]

[doctorsiren]

So I said this in the tags of my last post, but then I went wacky and doodled up some pages of this other AU idea that stemmed from the idea of that comic I did

In this AU, Miles goes to Diego Armando’s office a few weeks after the Fawles trial. There is no cocky, arrogant, or smug air about him like there was during the trial and instead he seems really shaken and nervous. Diego’s like “hey what’s wrong?” And Miles is quiet but then says that he needs help. He tells Diego that he can’t get the image of Fawles’s suicide out of his head and that he has no one he can talk to about this. Diego asks about Miles’s mentor, but Miles says that there’s absolutely no way he could ever go to his mentor for help with emotional stuff because it would show “weakness” and he also isn’t comfortable with von Karma. To make a long story short (because I’ve thought so much about this), Miles ends up pleading with Diego to protect him from von Karma just in case he goes after him for switching sides to be a defense attorney. He knows that von Karma will see him as weak and a traitor for switching teams after a single case, but Miles can’t be someone he’s not. Diego points out that Miles seems to be trying to be who von Karma wanted him to be. So he asks Miles what he wants to be, and Miles responds by saying he wants to be his dad (just like in my 1985 animatic 😭).

So Miles decides to renounce prosecution. He rips off his cravat and throws it in the garbage in Diego’s office and declares that he’ll become a defense attorney. He also asks Diego is he could be his mentor to help him in both being better at defense law and also just being better with interacting with people.

He joins the Grossberg Law Offices and works alongside Mia and Diego to gather evidence on Dahlia Hawthorne, as he now too believes that she has done terrible things.

After Diego is poisoned, Miles freaks out because people just keep dying or getting hurt around him and it scares him. (Oh…baby boy just wait until Mia dies too-)

He takes the case to defend Phoenix, gets TERRIFIED when Phoenix eats the poison necklace, and then at the end, Phoenix was like “oh wow! You’re a defense attorney now?? Lmao when did that happen??” Bc he had been too busy simping over Dahlia. But Miles tells him that he should still pursue law so that they could work together and also so that Phoenix’s law classes and studying wouldn’t have gone to waste. So Phoenix becomes a lawyer and works with Miles and Mia at the Fey & Co Law Offices until she dies and then it becomes Edgeworth & Co Law Offices because he had been a lawyer for longer.

I like the idea that in this AU, Phoenix and Miles obviously have huge crushes on each other, but these idiots still refuse to acknowledge or admit it <3

Also :((( when Diego wakes up, he still goes on his whole antagonist arc as Godot, and Miles refuses to tell Phoenix the truth about who he is. See, I also like the idea that in this AU, Nick and Miles are still as cagey with their past and truths as they are in normal AA

As you can see, I am perfectly normal !! I think about ace attorney a very normal amount!! 🤭

[weaverofink]

happy valentine’s day-- ace attorney villains edition!!!

[altruistic-meme]

tell me about the wip selfish. idk if I'm not in the fandom I wanna know everything

(you tagged a fucked up post with it so now I'm so so curious)

hehe HIII Kate 🥰

yeah it's a bungo stray dogs fic but I can and will still tell you about it :)

its. hm. best way to explain it....

i guess it's a canon divergence AU where Dazai makes a deal with Mori before he meets Chuuya, where if Dazai can find someone that Mori is more interested in him, then he'll take them on as his second and leave Dazai under Kouyou's command instead. and then Dazai finds Chuuya and drags him to Mori's attention, before eventually realizing "hey wait, no, actually Chuuya makes me feel things I've never felt before, I dont want him to suffer under Mori, he'll ruin his humanity" except it's too late by that point. so when Chuuya and Dazai properly join the Port Mafia, their positions are switched from canon with Chuuya working under Mori and Dazai working under Kouyou.

the fucked up part of it being Mori's treatment of Chuuya, largely, from SA to experimenting on him, and then also Chuuya and Dazai's relationship being all sorts of toxic and fucked up as well, bc Dazai has guilt for putting Chuuya in that position and Chuuya knows it's Dazai's fault. but Chuuya also refuses to switch them back bc he wants to protect Dazai from Mori since he knows what it's like. and Dazai wants to get close to Chuuya to help him out of guilt but doesn't know how to do that in a healthy way, and Chuuya wants to keep Dazai away from him for protection and will do anything he can to make that happen.

and then looking at their future where Dazai is in a better place bc he left the mafia, but he left Chuuya without even the meager support he had been providing before, which puts Chuuya in a worse position than he had been in. and trying to explore Dazai wanting again to help Chuuya and Chuuya again wanting to just protect Dazai. and figuring out how to get Chuuya out of the Mafia, and then the aftermath of that + his trauma and history.

and its name coming from the selfishness Dazai portrays throughout the whole story. from his original deal with Mori, to let someone else suffer in his place. to him trying to get close to Chuuya out of the guilt of putting him in that position in the first place. and then 4 years later, him doing everything to "save" Chuuya to ease his own conscious for having left him behind, without ever stopping to actually ask Chuuya if that WOULD help him at this point. or even WHAT could help him.

and. yeah. it will easily be the darkest thing I've ever written when I do finally start writing it. and that's also kind of the point of it. to explore a darker version of Chuuya, and more toxic version of skk, and a version of Dazai that isn't AS heavily influenced by Mori.

[theradicalace]

for characterization purposes do you think sniffles is the type to shrug off being wrong about something like hey thanks for correcting me and doesn’t think of it beyond it or the type to get a lil flustered about being wrong and openly corrected bc he takes a lot of pride in his intelligence?

also i hope you’re having a good day!!

ooaaahhh this is such a fantastic question!!

i honestly feel like his reaction would depend on a lot of factors. it would depend on what kind of mood he's in, how he felt about the person, how he felt about the TOPIC, etc etc.

like, if he's having an awesome day and he's corrected by someone he cares about, on a topic he doesn't care about much, he can pretty much take that in stride.

on the other hand, if he's having a shit day and someone corrects him on something he's passionate about, especially if it's someone he doesn't like or sees as beneath him, it's very likely that he's going to get defensive about it. he's not going to react with a whole ton of anger or aggression, but his response will make it very clear that he thinks the person correcting him is wrong and potentially an idiot for being wrong (even if they're not actually either of those things). to his credit, he tends to feel bad about it later, after he's cooled off.

i think it's definitely worse if he's corrected in front of someone he looks up to, though. i don't see him as someone who typically concerns himself with what other people think of him, but even he has idols, and it's only natural to want to make a good impression. he doesn't want to be seen by the people he looks up to as the guy who blew up over something trivial, though, so he grits his teeth and goes "wow i didn't know that tysm for informing me :)" meanwhile he's SEETHING internally. 50/50 odds on whether anyone buys it

[ame-to-ame]

Rereading ayaka is in love with Hiroko senpai!!! Last time I read it I don't think it was finished/I didn't finish it but ack. Now I also want to be in love 😭😭😭

[mossyvil]

how they like to cuddle

includes all characters except ortho bc idk how to write for him. writing this on mobile so excuse any formatting issues

riddle- he isn’t a huge cuddler, so you guys usually are just next to each other. but sometimes if you’re lucky you’ll wake up in the middle of the night and he is clinging on to you for dear life. he isn’t aware he does this tho so don’t mention it or he’ll be embarrassed

trey- he likes to have your head on his chest, holding your hand and maybe your legs interlocked. he also plays with your hair and it feels HEAVENLY. he also subconsciously runs his hands down your back as he falls asleep.

cater- he is just all over you lmfao. on your chest, you on his, spooning, he doesn’t care. it changes like 5 times a night too bc he can’t pick a position and stay in it but all his limbs must be touching you or he is not happy >:(

ace- just a classic big spoon guy. he enjoys cuddling but not to a huge extent to being a big spoon is the right amount or contact for him. but he is a hypocrite and will not let you get up once you’re in bed lol

deuce- acts like a big spoon but it’s obvious he likes being held, he just wants to be your protector. once you coax him a little though he’s much more comfortable being the little spoon and feels very safe in your arms

more utc!

leona- uses you as his own personal body pillow. every part of him is wrapped around you, including his tail. he claims he can’t sleep well without you so he drags you to cuddle with him when he takes naps lol. only puts his head on you, not his pillow

ruggie- he has no preference. he can appreciate all of the cuddling positions and likes to switch it up each night. and yes, he does like having his head pet. so any position where you can give him head rubs is fine with him

jack- he likes having you fully on top of him. no matter your size he likes the feeling of you on him, it’s like a weighted blanket. he’s also a little afraid of hurting you with his strength so this is a win-win for him

azul- hes a little spoon. it takes a while for him to even be comfortable cuddling in the first place, and once that happens he’s actually very open with saying that he prefers to be held. it makes him feel safe, like his octopot.

jade- big spoon all the way. he doesn’t have a real reason why he likes it so much but he won’t cuddle unless he can be the big spoon. just be careful, once you’re in his arms his teasing mood kicks in

floyd- it changes every night lol. he isn’t a big fan of being the little spoon, but other than that he just goes with what you prefer. he does like to squeeze you when he can, but he tries to be gentle

kalim- little spoon! he feels very content in your arms and it helps him relax after a long day. he also likes to hold your hands in front of him. give him soft kisses behind his ear and youll get to hear his giggles bc he’s ticklish

jamil- he’s also not huge on cuddling but he can’t sleep without you in the bed. at most he wants to hold hands but even that depends on the day. he’s like a cat, he wants to be near you but not touch unless it’s on his terms.

vil- DOES like to cuddle but makes sure not to mess up his hair. usually lays on his back and pulls you into his side so he isn’t gonna ruin all his meticulous work on his skin and hair. he isn’t too upset if it does happen, but would like to avoid it

rook- has no preference, just likes to touch you lol. if he had to choose he would want you to have your head on his chest, but as long as he gets to have his affection he’s happy. he doesn’t move a lot in his sleep, but does subconsciously pull you closer to him

epel- big spoon most of the time but sometimes is the little spoon. he’s surprisingly willing to admit he likes both, but he usually goes to being the big spoon. he likes being able to hug you, you’re like a soft plushy to him

idia- likes to sleep facing you and holding hands with legs intertwined but not fully cuddling. it took him a while to even be this affectionate with cuddling, but he’s getting there. he also likes that he can look at you when your eyes are closed lol

malleus- you on top of him with your head tucked under his. he wants you as close as possible and wraps your legs around each others so you’re even closer. he runs kind of warm so it’s really nice in the winter when the dorms are cold

lilia- he likes to lay on top of you with his head in your chest lol. it doesn’t matter if you have boobs or not, he likes your chest. he says it makes a good pillow for an old fae to rest his head on

silver- very respectful of your space and likes to be the big spoon. he lets you initiate any cuddling because he wants to make sure you’re okay with it first. he’s just happy to be next to you

sebek- he sleeps like a starfish LMFAO. all limbs are in each direction. theoretically you could cuddle like that but it’s not very comfortable 😭 he does at least try to go to sleep cuddling you if you want, but he moves a lot in his sleep so it doesn’t last that long

[dizzybizz]

hai here is a sketch dump with too many fandoms :) sorry about the ungodly amount of men here i have been going through it and by it i mean gay

ok wait i ran out of tags??? it wont let me tag them all😭😭😭 im gonna have to be sparing with them uhh i guess i will have to ramble under the cut then cus i like rambling in my tags but i cant with this one 😭

(ok im back from the ramble: it is way too long.... proceed forward if you want to see some guy just absolutely talk nonsense for entirely too long)

no cus i swear i have tried tagging more stuff than this before and never hit the limit but whatever

hello i really use this like a fkn blog huh

i just wanted to provide some thoughts on the harper and rosé one first bc its important to me 😌 cus i was thinking abt harper and how in my head and heart of hearts she would be the kid who thought you get pregnant from kissing and i dont think she ever really grew out of that belief. <- this ended up spawning the idea of harper being a sex-repulsed ace and i will die on this hill actually. fight me or die, you die either way actually nvm

this is just a buncha blorbos i dont know what to tell you really. sketch pages like these always end up so weird for me bc for some reason my brain always wants the characters in them to interact in some way. whether that be talking or just reacting to what the other is doing... its something i cant stop with, its so stupid and silly and i hate it and i love it. where else would i see kabru slowly losing his mind with how loud phoenix wright is in court????

I THOUGHT I HAD GOTTEN OFF THE RAILS WITH THAT BUT THEN THE NEXT PAGE HAPPENED. and all i could do was laugh and ask "what the fuck am i drawing??? HOW DID WE GET HERE? WHY IS THISTLE HERE WITH LEOPIKA HELP" LIKE that page started with the big leopika and then i was like "man i miss thistle lemme draw him real quick" but the curse struck and now hes being homophobic so </3

i rlly like how the nic(k) page turned out ... i just have a lot of nicks i like drawing idk.. the lil guy is an oc,,, one day his ref sheet will be finished and itll be awesome but not for now, sorry baby, no can do. im weirdly happy with how the hands turned out for all of them tho?? so thats a W

yotasuke, murai, nick (youll never know which one im referring to. .. jkjk its hoult i love the pose there ehehhe), nic and the entire last page r my favs. i like em all but those rlly get me yknow- the olly too ofc but ive already posted him, dont mind him being here, hes part of the set. AND OVER ALL IVE BEEN HAVING SO FUN WITH SHADING BLACK AND JUST LEAVING SPOTS BLANK ITS SO ?`????

WHY IS THIS SO LONG PLS DONT READ ALL THIS THIS IS STRAIGHT UP EMBARRASSING AGHSDFGSDHJSGD im all like "yeah i dont like talking about myself or whatever" but as soon as i get to my process or blorbos or smth the floodgates fucking break open, not even burst man.

also dont mind how i havent even acknowledged pingas twink pokemon counterpart. hes just here for shits and giggles i dont know the guy like at all, i watched a handful of eps of horizons and that was it RIP

[eowynstwin]

Saw the AC 141 fanart you reblogged then immediately think about that animal crossing crack theory post here somewhere about humans being in extinction so the animals are keeping you safe in the island, and they're entertaining you with human enrichment activities they think you might enjoy. They might be misguided at times (the loan stuff), but they mean well. And that also explains why they cheer when you move their houses around bcs they think it'll keep you happy. Also, multiplayer is when they arrange a play date with other surviving human(s). T'was the greatest thing I've read this week.

So yeah, imagine COD AC shenanigans where you're the human, and 141 are your island inhabitants who never ask to leave the island.

the art in question

"Moved my bloody house again," mutters Ghost one afternoon, sulking on a beach chair beside Price as they (ostensibly) fish.

"Mm," hums the lion. "Mine last week. Better get used to it."

"Was by the river," the bear continues to lament. "Could hear the water while I was sleepin.'"

Gaz trundles up to join them, setting his box of fishing tackle down. "Sorry mate. Just saw this morning. River's filled in where you were."

Ghost sighs, very long and very loud, and slumps back in his chair. He longs for a beer, but Price had insisted on no alcohol on the island. It made humans screwy and weird, and increased their mortality ratings exponentially.

"I'm sure it ain't for no reason," Price murmurs. The line twitches, but nothing actually bites.

"Last I saw the human was burying a bag of money," says Gaz, extending his own fishing pole. "Not sure there's much of a reason for anything they do."

A low whir, gradually increasing in volume, interrupts the quiet of the day; the sea plane lands by the pier, and Wilbur hops out, followed by an extremely familiar horse.

"No," Ghost moans, "not that bloody numpty, please."

Soap catches sight of the group, brays excitedly, and runs down the beach.

"Fancy seein' you lads here!" he exclaims gleefully. "Heard there's room for me here from your human!" Gaz, the only one really excited to see him, throws him a high five.

"I want to leave," mourns Ghost.

Price snorts. "Good luck with that."

next

[maythedreadwolftakeyou]

idk man been sifting through my feelings on all this. and i think what it comes down to is i don't really care/mind that there are non-canonical (BY DEFINITION, if it is not IN the media, it is not in the 'canon', and this info was in tweets) statements about Lucanis' sexuality being demi/ace/him being a virgin. and i'm glad for people who like to incorporate that into their headcanons about the game/interpretation of his character and expand on that more than the game itself does, like, this is our space now baby do what makes you happy!

but personallyyyyyyy i just do not think these new labels are some magic bandaid that solves the flaws in the pacing and writing of his romance. Lucanis never talking to Rook about his feelings as they get to know each other (but sure is willing to talk to Rook about his feelings for Neve if you don't romance him) is not solved, for me, by saying "well he wouldn't be attracted until he got to know you and also has no experience with sex". the same way calling it a "slow burn" did not solve this for me. especially because right up until release he was being advertised as a "bisexual mess". but now was secretly a "panromantic demisexual" the whole time. it just... idk. you can say anything you want online, you know? but if you don't Show Me... well. i also don't like that people who are saying 'well this was Not part of his story in the game so i don't see it' are getting labeled as anti-ace when like, many of the criticisms i am seeing are coming from people who are themselves demi/ace lol. it's not asexual representation bc it is not in the game itself. (though honestly. i AM glad that that was not jammed into his story arc, and that his quests were about his agonizing over his family and the fact that he's now bodysharing with a demon. because his writing was never going to get MORE lines, and to take away any of the ones he had to put in a sexuality arc beyond an offhand mention would have really crashed that because the existing writing barely holds together as is. like there just was not room to have more so personally i am not criticizing Mary Kirby for her decision not to add it. but you can't not add something and then also claim it's a definitive part of his character. plus i dont think a character needs to know/understand/use modern labels anyway).

and personally i DO prefer an awkward/fumbling Lucanis, to be clear. Before Veilguard came out I was never expecting the sexy antivan lover angle because we got that once already: Zevran. I didn't want poor-imitation Zevran, and bioware would not write Lucanis like that to make sure he is a more distinct character anyway. BUT i do think it's reasonable in a bioware game to expect that a romance is going to have romantic content--and the number of times after his cutscenes i literally said aloud "go girl give us nothing" after he failed to react to a flirt was pretty sad. If he's awkward and nervous give him a line where he stutters and doesn't know how to react, not just a blank stare and back to business, or whatever. Or a scene where you can literally ask "you never respond to my flirting do you want me to stop" and for him to say say he likes it but doesn't know how to reciprocate or. ANYTHING. Idk. I have seen 10 different posts/takes on how the Wall Lean Scene fits in, be it that he was imitating a romance novel or it was crow seduction training or he was just pretending because that's how he's seen Illario do it but at the end of the day. It is all just speculation because nothing in the game EVER addresses how wildly different the tone of that scene is from every other one of his romance scenes. And as much as i love the Sexy Wall Lean, given the rest of his characterization in EVERY other romance scene, i think I'm at a point where i think the romance would have been better served by cutting it out and having a different scene where you actually get to talk to him instead.

but! that is not the game we were given. we only have what we have, which is the Veilguard content by Mary Kirby, and The Wigmaker Job written by Courtney Woods (where for reference, he mentions stumbling into an orgy on a previous job, and having an "interesting" time getting out of that, so i already think we have 2 different interpretations of his character between them anyway). but yeah idk man to me "well he's ace" is not an excuse for either gaps in the writing or cut content or whatever was going on. because 1. HE IS NOT AN ACTUAL PERSON he is a storytelling vessel that i felt failed to satisfyingly communicate the entire romance story and 2. even if he was a person saying 'well in ace relationships communication sucks' would also be, not great, you know. everything beyond the text itself is just interpretation and headcanons

[beefrobeefcal]

Tommy Miller's Stall feat. Marcus Pike & f!Reader

Prompt: Marcus Pike + BBQ + "It's a Surprise. Close your eyes."

a @pedgito challenge fic | Rated: 18+ | word count: 2,852 warnings: swearing, talk of drinking beer, eating, bathroom stalls becoming shrines, Barbequed meats (consumed), broken AC, lack of air circulation, sweating, oral (m receiving), pork steeple in ham wallet (unprotected), bathroom shenanigans, pre-term ejaculation, cumming undone too soon, grey t-shirts

A/N: I know I am a day late with this and I know bc of that, it's probably not going to be included in the challenge, but I needed to release this! Apologies to @pedgito for my tardiness. This is not the previously met Marcus - he's a Marcus all of his own.

Thank you to @strang3lov3, @noxturnalpascal & @bitchesuntitled for their love and support.

Traveling for work meant Marcus got to know all the random hole-in-the-wall eateries and Miller Bro’s Boy Howdy BBQ in Austin was one of his favourites. He loved the laid-back atmosphere and the story of why Joel & his brother Tommy bought the place from the previous owner – Tommy lost his virginity in the bathroom to a line cook named Rhonda and begged his brother to help him buy this drive of a restaurant and save it from demolition. There was even a plaque in the stall where Tommy ‘became a man in Summer ’89’.

Over the years, he’d gotten to know the menu and the Miller brothers. Joel was more aloof, preferring to stay in the kitchen or at the BBQ pit out back, while Tommy was happy to sit out with the customers like they were old friends, playing cards or sharing a few stories and laughs with them. The few times that Marcus had interacted with Joel were mainly to compliment him on the menu and tell him how much he liked the place; Joel would grunt and nod in thanks and head back into the kitchen.

There was another reason he liked coming to this place – you. From the first time he laid eyes on you as he darkened this place’s doorway six years ago, he knew he was hooked. You’d flashed your smile at him, flipped your hair and told him to, “Take any available seat, handsome. I’ll be right wit’cha!”

He’d learned that your nickname was ‘Peaches’ on account of your penchant to recommend the peach and bourbon barbeque sauce that was house made. He also learned that Joel kept an eye on him when you were around - he would catch Joel narrowing his eyes at him through the kitchen service window when you were at his table taking his order. It used to make Marcus nervous, thinking he might get something extra hidden in his food, but he decided that it was too delicious to care.

He'd taken a temporary position in the Austin office and for the last six months, he’d eaten at Miller’s every night and it was apparent. Marcus had assumed you were being kind when you called him handsome, especially now that he was barely fitting into the oversized summer attire he’d packed in late December before he’d come out to Austin and discovered that eating large portions of charbroiled meats at least once a day would alter your waistline so drastically.

His middle had filled out enough that the suits he wore throughout the day had to be tailored repeatedly before being fully replaced to accommodate his new weight. And the summer clothing he was wearing, formally loose-fitting for the heat, were anything but. So, when you winked at him when he entered today and said that you’d be with him in a minute, he internally reminded himself that you were just doing your job.

Marcus sat heavily down and slid into the booth, then waited for you to come over to his table. As he sat, he noticed how warm the dining area’s temperature was and took in the slight sweat ring and patches that were forming on your grey Miller Bro’s Boy Howdy BBQ branded shirt. He also realized he didn’t hear the tell-tale whirling and churning sounds of the too-old AC unit that normally filled the vacant spaces between conversations. He looked up to the vent in the corner, and the streamers that normally danced in the airflow hung limp, and he wiped the back of his hand over his damp forehead. He was getting hot.

“Hey handsome.”, you smiled, a slight weariness in your eyes but your smile shone bright. “Usual or you wanna see the menu?”

Marcus smiled back, and not wanting to make you work any harder, nodded and responded, “The usual please, Peaches.”

His eyes trailed down your body, landing on your butt as you walked back to the service window, then smiled to himself. He looked up, then made direct eye contact with Joel who only offered a scowl followed by a judgemental head shake before he disappeared back into the depths of the kitchen.

*****

Marcus was sweating. After finishing his meal, Tommy had come around and sat with him, ordering more barbequed goodness and beers, telling him the beer was ‘on the house, ‘cause the fuckin’ AC shit the bed.’ This exclamation was followed by you reminding Tommy that the AC was broken because he spent the repair funds on a ridiculous crystal duck as a gift to impress a woman – a woman who happened to be the AC repair tech’s wife.

Even with the cool beer, Marcus felt overly hot. A belly stuffed to the brim with smoked and charbroiled meats while sitting in a hot, stuffy room with still air was getting to him. As Tommy stood, slightly wavering on his feet from all the beer he was consuming to match the beer he was giving away to customers, he heavily patted Marcus on the shoulder and muttered, “Take it easy, big guy… I’ll be back ‘round soon.”

*****

You were hovering around Marcus’ table, checking in on him and Tommy, and every time you moved towards the kitchen with another order, Joel would shake his head at you, much like he would at Marcus.

“One of y’all better make a move soon… fuckin’ pathetic.”

You huffed in response, cheeks heating up. “Shove it, Joel. Mind your business.”

“Jesus, Peaches! It’s my fuckin’ business if I’m payin’ you by the hour and have’ta watch this horse shit pussy footin’ between you and fat boy over there. Just go sit on his lap an’ get it over with.”

You gave him a warning glare and a smug grin tugged at one side of Joel’s mouth. He nodded to you, signaling to look and you saw Tommy leaving Marcus’ table.

“Gonna close early on account of the heat and the fact that I’m fuckin’ done roastin’ myself in this kitchen.” You heard Joel chuckle behind you. “Get’er done, Peaches.”

*****

Marcus stood and stretched after he finished his beer, feeling the weight he'd consumed in his stomach, and looking down, he could see the bulk of it, too. You watched him stand and stretch, exposing a sliver of his rounded-out middle between his shirt and shorts.

Tommy tsk’d, startling you. Turning around, you were met by his slightly drunk, glazed eyes, and a dopey smile. “Joel’s right, Peaches. Just bite the bullet and take that man for a ride in my stall.”

“Oh my god, Tommy!”, you exclaimed with a frown a little too loudly, shoving him back.

Tommy laughed and handed you a shot of bourbon. You rolled your eyes and slammed it alongside him. He then grabbed your shoulders, turned you to face Marcus’ direction and said in your ear quietly. “No harm, no foul in helpin’ him take in the sights Austin has to offer, Peaches.”, then shoved you towards his table.

You caught yourself from stumbling and cleared your throat as you approached him. Marcus turned and looked at you; a small smile spread on his face before a pink blush crept up his cheeks as he tugged his shirt down, closing the slight gap his stretch had caused.

You could feel the energy, electrifying and crackling like a late July thunderstorm, raging in the space between your bodies, pulling you together with a gravitational field that would rival the one caused by Jupiter’s giant spot. Marcus opened his mouth to speak but any words he was going to say were lost in his throat as you moved forward and kissed him. The soft exhale that came after his surprised gasp tasted like beer and barbeque sauce on your tongue that pushed against the seam of his lips. His hands, sticky and smoky, were tethered up in your hair, holding your face against his as he deepened the kiss, granting your tongue entrance in your tongue’s long anticipated dance.

You barely heard Tommy spit his beer out and sputter out choked coughs as Joel grunted then nodded in approval at what you and Marcus were up to. After depriving yourselves of full breaths for long enough, you parted, panting, staring at one another. Marcus’ shoulders and chest were heaving and his lips, parted and pouted, were wet from your combined saliva.  His face was flushed, glistening in the low glow of all the tacky neon lighting adorning the walls, one side of his face pink from flamingos with sunglasses on, the other side flickering orange and yellow from the broken Corona promotional neon sign. He was beautiful.

At that moment, you didn’t think what you looked like, completely enraptured by the huffing and panting man sweating in front of you.

“Peaches…”, Marcus murmured, eyes wide and pleading. “I wanna do this right. I-”

You couldn’t let him finish, not if his next words could dampen the fire that had erupted in your core, making your hole twitch hard enough that you felt it in behind your belly button. You shook your head and shushed him, pressing your index finger against his lips. You grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the men’s washroom, directly into Tommy’s stall.

Thinking back, you would wonder how differently things would have gone if you’d pulled Marcus into a private area that wasn’t designed for single occupancy. The stalls in this restaurant were small, given that the original design of the washrooms did not include stalls at all, and Marcus was no longer a small man. But good god, the feeling of your body pushed up against his as he was backed against the stall door, mashing your mouths together.

You were still taking the lead in this dance, setting the pace and motions, while Marcus finally allowed his hands to touch more than anywhere above your collarbone. He gripped your waist with one hand and the other pushed its way between your bodies to clumsily try and shove it down the front of your pants. You both awkwardly tried to undress one another as you kept your lips and tongues attached, panting and grunting. If someone walked into the bathroom, they might assume there were two dogs quietly fighting over a piece of beef in the stall.

Once your jean shorts were open, Marcus wasted no time in shoving them down enough to shove his barbeque-tinged fingers into them. He eventually found what he was looking for when the tip of his finger grazed your sensitive and twitching nub, eliciting a gasping moan from you as you involuntarily bucked your hips. It was what tipped you over the edge, prompting you to swing him around and fumble with his button fly. He pulled back and his hands gently held yours, halting your mission to get his pants off.

“Marcus…”, you panted against his mouth.

“I haven’t… it’s been a while since…”, he stumbled through his words.

It seemed like time was slowing and you smiled softly at him. “Close your eyes.”

He hesitated, sucking in a breath nervously. “Why?”

“It’s a surprise. Close your eyes.”

His brows twitched and did as he was told and you sank to your knees, sliding your hands down his torso and thighs, and he let out a soft whimper once he realized where you were headed. Once on your knees, you pushed up his shirt and pressed a kiss right below his belly button and steadied yourself with your forehead against his full and rounded out stomach, your hands now free to get his shorts opened and down. His cock was pushing an impressive bulge in his grey boxer briefs, and you could see where the tip was pressing, a dark, damp patch at its peak.

Pulling down his underwear, his cock popped out and slapped up against his heavy underbelly, and without any hesitation, you grabbed it and sucked the tip into your mouth.

Marcus moaned out a surprised gasp and his hand gently rested on the crown of your head.

“I-oh fuck! I won’t… I wont last long. Peaches, please, honey.”, he whined, his fingers curling into your hair ever so gently.

He wasn’t kidding when he said he wouldn’t last long. His balls had just started to lift and tighten as you pulled off, and you looked up at him, marveling at the sight above you. Marcus was leaning back against the stall door, and you could only see his tented brows above his closed eyes before his belly obstructed the view.

Standing up, you smoothed your hands over his middle and leaned in to kiss him. He smiled against your mouth, and took a chance in moving away from the door and his arms wrapped around your body, pulling you into him. He maneuvered the both of you, now facing the stall door, ready to push you against it, to get on his knees for you, and pulled your shorts and underwear off completely.

But you stopped him, shoving his shorts and boxer briefs down his thighs, and pushed him back to sit on the toilet.

He fell back on to the lowered seat with a grunt, and you straddled his lap.

“Marcus,”, you breathe out as you start to seat yourself upon his cock. “I’ve wanted this for -oh god! for so long…”

He nodded frantically, and his fingers dug into your hips once your hips were finally flush with his.

“Oh…oh fudge…”, he moaned, clenching his eyes closed.

His breathing was quick and staggered, and his hips twitched and bucked under you. All you had done was allow your pussy to swallow his cock whole. He wasn’t kidding when he said that he wouldn’t last long, and the strain that reddened his face and the sounds leaving his mouth as you began to rock your hips slowly, trying to give him some time to adjust, but you needed to move.

“P-Peaches -”

You shushed him, and gripped his shoulder, starting to pick up the pace. His cock felt amazing - not too big or thick, but absolutely a perfect fit for you - just like him.

“Peaches - please, baby!”

Marcus tried to slow you down, tried to hold you down, tried to gain leverage by grabbing anything he could, tried shifting underneath you, but you were determined. You hushed him again, reveling in the harsh way he finally gripped your waist and hip with his large hands, and the rhythm you’d found bouncing on his cock. It was hitting just the right spot at just the right angle, and you could feel the early stirring of your climax.

But the sound of the toilet flushing from him sitting forward enough to set the sensors off and the loud, long groan that Marcus let out, followed by the feeling of warm cum shooting into you made you still in his lap.

He gripped you tighter, panting ‘Peaches!’ over and over, and pushed his face into your t-shirt covered chest, and his belly contracted and relaxed at an alarming pace. 

“Oh god… oh no. I’m-I’m so sorry!”, he whined and whimpered into your cleavage, still unloading spurt after spurt into your pussy. “Oooooh! oh my go-I’m sorry…”

He panted out grunts and groans, and his face twisted against the front of your t-shirt in blissful agony with his brows furrowed and his mouth open. Wet, hot breaths and saliva heated up your chest, and his hips bucked a few times, the final drops of cum finally spitting out.

“P-Peaches - I’m sorry.”, he murmured, weak and breathless. “I-I couldn’t - it’s been a-a while… for me.”

You sat silently, feeling his cum leaking out of you. You’d never had a man cum that quickly before. Sure, you’d had guys finish first, but this was a record, and yet, you weren’t mad. You couldn’t be.

“Marcus – “

“Just too pretty... I-I tried… I-“

“Marcus – “

“I didn’t mean to… just so pretty and I-“

“Marcus!”

He finally pulled back and looked up at you, his big brown eyes pleading for mercy. “I really like you and I wanted to do this right; ask you out properly, and - “

“Take me home and finish me, Marcus.”

“I just - wait, what? You want me to-”

“Take me back to your place. Make me cum.”

His eyes widened in disbelief, and his mouth moved slightly, but no words came out, only small, confused breaths.

“I like you, too, and-”

“I want to take you for dinner first.”

You smiled and huffed out a laugh. “You just ate!”

He nodded, raising his brows and offered a small shrug. “Well, yeah, but you- uh, well you got me working up an appetite. And I -”, he looked a little bashful as he continued. “I want to - uh - perform well and I can do that after we get some food in and the beer out of my system.”

You pressed a sweet kiss onto his lips and both of you couldn’t help the giggles that started. 

The door to the bathroom opened and slammed against the wall; Tommy’s slurred voice boomed out, “You two done? I wanna piss’n my stall.”

no more taglist! to get fic notification, follow @beefnotes

[jinxed-lemon]

Part 2 to my original post of Mean Siblings Unbreakable Bond because it’s funny writing them:

Whenever they play an outdoor game like Hide and Seek or Tag, it’s a battle to the death to achieve victory. Sonic usually wins the most bc he’s the fastest, so the one ace in his sleeve that Tails learned to pull is the waterworks. Sonic find him during hide and seek? Tears. Sonic is close to tagging him? Tails will fall down and pretend to get hurt and start sobbing. Sonic falls for it every time.

Doing laundry? They make it last for hours on end bc they’ll literally take each others stuff out of the wash mid cycle to out their own in. It pisses the other off so much to the point where they’re constantly stopping the wash to switch out the clothes. Oh, Sonic is washing his old blue hoodie??? Too bad, Tails yanks it out of the washing machine sopping wet and drops it on the floor with a splat to put his blanket in. They know that they can probably just wash their stuff together but it’s funnier this way.

They’re play fighting and Tails learned to do that infamous leg kick. You know the move you do when you’re cornered on your back? He just starts kicking his legs at full speed and Sonic starts screaming bc it’s nearly impossible to get past that move.

Sonic is eating chips and he has dust all over his hands? He purposely bypasses the numerous napkins they have just to go up to Tails and wipe his hands over his head to have the chip dust fall on top of him. Tails retaliates by shaking the empty chip bag over Sonic’s head.

Tails is an avid coffee drinker and Sonic has tried everything to stop his addiction. So he tries the famous ‘replace the sugar with salt’ trick to mess with him. One morning Tails puts the salt in instead and when he takes a sip Sonic already had that shit eating grin on his face. Tails immediately spits the coffee in his face and Sonic fall to the ground screaming.

Tails take advantage of his shorter height and sneakiness to kneel down and tie Sonic’s shoe laces. He’ll fall face first and before Tails can book it away Sonic will stick his leg out and make his brother fall too.

Their favorite way to embarrass the other is going onto each others social media accounts and changing something about their profile. Tails logs on one day and finds that his profile picture had been changed to an embarrassing photo Sonic took of him one day and PROMISED not to show anyone else. Sonic goes into his Twitter and for some reason there’s hundreds of posts hyping up Eggman and basically talking about how Eggman is the best/greatest, etc. His profile, header- everything is basically changed to pro-Eggman propaganda.

Fans: are you and Eggman friends now???

Sonic: I was hacked I would never say this shit pls you gotta believe me 😭

Tails LOVES bringing up the ‘divorced parents’ story whenever someone asks about the relationship between him and Sonic. Like Sonic is about to explain how Tails is his adoptive brother and Tails immediately interrupts and says, “Yeah, this is my dad. He got custody of me after the divorce and it’s been really hard lately so try to be nice to him ok? :(“

They’re eating out at a diner/restaurant and Sonic looooves secretly telling the waiters that it’s Tail’s birthday so they’ll do that embarrassing thing of coming to their table and singing happy birthday in front of the whole restaurant. Tails is mortified and covers his face every time and Sonic will record the whole thing like a corny parent and say “Oh he’s just a little shy! Smile at the camera Tails!1!!1!! 😁”

[mobbu-min]

☆ bragging rights ☆

request: What if the dorm leaders had an s/o fawning over them and bragging about them to the first years and Grim?

a/n: They would all get tired of it quickly, well maybe not Sebek or Ortho. But Epel and Ace? They're def tried to tape your mouth shut. I ended up formatting this differently, but I like it so…yeah. Also each dorm leader will be paired with their corresponding first year! Just because it makes it easier for me lol Grim will be filling in for the dorms that don’t have first years! But he also got his own part bc he’s my little meow meow

!tw! cursing, readers a major simp

Grim <3

⋆ Being the one that’s with you the most, Grim has learned to tune you out when you go on a rant on how amazing and caring your favorite housewarden is. He learned first hand how sad or irritated you get when he tells you to be quiet. And he wasn’t about to face that again.

⋆ Grim’s a little jealous about how much you brag about them. He’s all like, ‘that should be me!’ but he quickly gets over it because you tend to give him a lot of affection while you go on your rants.

⋆ Does he gag every time you fawn over them? Yes, because the thought of his henchman having goo-goo eyes for them makes him sick.

⋆ The only reason why Grim hasn’t vomited on their shoes is because they tend to give you stuff, which translates to Grim getting stuff too. (his reasoning is that you’re both one student) So he is there on dates and hangouts a whole lot.

Riddle + Ace/Deuce <3

⋆ Ace is so so so sick of it. Like Grim, seeing you be all mushy with his dorm leader makes him want to pluck his eyes out. He’s all like, ‘C’mon! Riddle? That short fu-’ and Deuce has to stop him before you could jump him. Ace is truly confused in what you see in him. And he swears his ears bleed whenever you start on your rant about Riddle. He didn’t think anyone could be this down bad for someone, besides Sebek.

⋆ Deuce finds it admirable about how much you care about Riddle. Sure he does get a little annoyed when you decide to start talking about Riddle when you said you’d help him study or when you immediately dash towards Riddle when you’re supposed to be helping him with your alchemy assignment, but other than that he doesn’t really have anything against it. Just please, don’t go running off when you’re doing a very time-sensitive potion again. He does not want to deal with a giant radish baby again.

⋆ Riddle goes incredibly bashful when he overhears Ace complaining about your crush on him. He immediately wants to rush to you and confirm the truth, because he would be lying if he said he didn’t have a crush on you. It’s literally the best news in his life. Knowing that you liked him enough to blabber anyone’s ear off makes him blush. Boy is smitten.

Leona + Jack <3

⋆ He literally just tunes you out. Jack is too busy to pay any attention to your rambling, so he’ll let you trail behind him, but beware, he is not processing anything. At first, Jack’s all like, yeah Leona is super cool and wow you sure are observant, then ‘omg they just want to fuck him.’ he actualy does sit you down one day and says as much as he loves to see you happy, please stfu about Leona. But hey, at least his cacti are thriving.

⋆ Smug fucker. Super duper smug. There’s nothing stopping him from going up to you and demanding you never to stop. On any other occasion, Leona would have told them to stop being a suck up, but you’re different <3. Nobody really notices but like Ruggie and Rook(bc he’s a creep, jk i love my babygirl) but Leona has gotten significantly happier and sorta, kinda nicer(?) All Ruggie knows is that if Leona's in a bad mood is to get you asap!

Azul + Grim <3

⋆ Grim doesn’t get it. Like it’s Azul. The guy that tried to take Ramshackle away from you both? The guy that practically made you temporarily homeless!? Did you wack your head, henchman!? Grim swears he loses his already lacking brain cells whenever you start on your midnight rambles about Azul. The only thing that makes up for it is the fact you take him to the Monstro Lounge once a week to gaze lovingly at Azul. The food he loves. Azul? Grim thinks you should reconsider.

⋆ Dude deadass faints like a maiden seeing an ankle for the first time. He deadass can’t comprehend the fact that you talk so highly of him. Because he was sure that you hated him. Don’t get Azul wrong, he’s delighted to know that you want him the same way, but jeez, give his heart a break. His mind is doing loopies at all the ways he can get you to go on a date with him that doesn’t involve him turning into a big stuttering mess.

Kalim + Grim <3

⋆ This one? This one is one Grim can get behind. Sure Kalim is full of energy and always wants to feed Grim dry ass cookies. But do you want to know what Kalim has? Yeah, Kalim has money and he’s more than willing to spend it on you, and by extension, Grim. So he doesn’t complain much when you rant his fiery ear off everyday. Because if his plan goes right, then…well, let’s just say the first thing on Grim’s spending list is a month’s worth of premium tuna.

⋆ Kalim has to thank the Seven and Grim! Because if it wasn’t for them, he wouldn't have overheard you saying how great he was and how much you liked him! Boy is over the moon! Instantly he’s by your side smiling so brightly it puts the sun to shame and happily exclaims he loves you too! Que, him planning your wedding- Anyways, Kalim returns your enthusiasm ten fold! Like, how could he not?! You’re so perfect in Kalim’s eyes that it would be wrong not to talk about you 24/7! Poor Jamil, Kalim already was talking about you so much, but after that day, it doubled. He really does consider faking his death and going to live in the countryside.

Vil + Epel <3

⋆ Epel wants to strangle you. Like legit wishes that both sides of your pillow are warm at night and more. He can’t wrap his mind around that fact that you! Want VIL FUCKIN SCHOENHEIT! His WORST enemy! Boy feels hella betrayed. He thought you didn’t like him, only to find out you want to fu-ahem, Epel shouldn't say that outloud, Meemaw rules and all. Epel wonders if it’s something in the water you city folk drink, because he sure as hell gonna stay FAR away from that.

⋆ Your title goes from ‘Potato’ to ‘HIS sweet potato’ real fast. Because of course, you would brag and rant about him at any moment and to anyone. Vil overhears and all like ‘Oh, no please excuse my snooping…but please don’t let me stop you~’ Vil won’t tell you but when you were spending an ungodly amount of time with Rook, he was a little peeved(aka worried) But he’s quick to find out that you and Rook have just been building a shrine in the school's bathroom (just girly tings~) he is incredibly disturbed, but hey, at least Neige doesn’t have this dedicated fanbase.

Idia + Ortho <3

⋆ Sweet baby is so happy to hear you talk so highly and lovingly about his older brother! Orthos literally this \^o^/. He’s bringing you in a big hug and spilling all his brother’s secrets! He’s heard (seen all of Idia’s shoujo anime) and learned that miscommunication is a big leading factor to couples not getting together! And like hell, is he letting this opportunity slip by! Number one wing man, fr!

⋆ You know when cats get scared, they’ll jump up? Yeah, well that’s Idia when you come bursting in screaming ‘I LOVE YOU TOO, MY BABYGIRL !’ Everyone thinks a murder is happening but, it’s just Idia screaming. He knew that you were always talking about him and he was planning a super macho way to ask you out, it's just that his confidence he ordered off of amazon hadn’t gotten here in time. He’s both annoyed and grateful that Ortho spilled his secret, because he sure as hell wouldn’t have. Now all that’s left is to make sure to calm his red face before you notice.

Malleus + Sebek <3

⋆ Sebek at first is all like ‘WHAT'S YOUR MOTIVE, HUMAN!’ but after hearing the pure adoration in your voice, he’s immediately all like ‘I’VE MISS JUDGE YOU! YOU AREN’T AS AIRHEADED AS YOU APPEAR TO BE!!!’ (you can either choose to take it as a compliment or not-) Immediately, Sebek is inviting to his tri-weekly meetings to talk about the oh so great, waka-sama. Literally it’s just him, with a powerpoint about Malleus, and Silver, who’s slumped over in a corner. The first thing on his list is to give you the club member uniform, a white tee with malleus’s face and in comic sans, ‘Waka-Sama Forever!’ Sebek happily informs you, Lilia made it. Sebek is actually so happy to talk about Malleus with you, though he suspects after a few, ahem-unholy, comments from you, that your view on Mal is not the same as his. Nonetheless! Sebek happily listens to your rants.

⋆ Though, beware everyone else’s eardrum because you both don’t shut up. (silver is unsurprisingly not disturbed)

⋆ How do I put this?….Malleus is so fucking smug. So much smugger than anyone else on this list. Like his favorite human, no HIS Human, is talking so fondly about him, looking at him like he’s the sun and moon and the universe. Like how can he not be smug about it, but most of all, how can he not fall impossibly deeper in love with you? Like you might not know this, but Malleus talks about you the same way you talk about him. Him knowing this just causes him to feel like his crush on you can be a reality. You and him can be the future

[qlventingspace]

I'd like to drop some of my thoughts about The Heart Killers here.

You know I'm kinky ace, my love of Pete in the VegasPete days was quite evident as well as my belated realization that I forgot I've always been kinky on some level.

I get that show like Heart Killers is not everyone's cuppa and it's totally fine to be sad about not being able to watch show with your favourite actors for whatever reason.

But.

But this is a show made by a queer man about fantasy queer men.

If you start hating on it (based just on what was shown to us in a trailer) just because you can't watch it and/or it's too sexual or kinky for you ... that's not a problem of the show.

That's a you problem. If you don't like, do not watch and for fucks sake do not start with moralizing.

I'm more than happy to be surprised and I'm on the edge of my seat looking towards what the show is gonna be like bc they didn't give us any concrete hints.

FUCK YES.

I also think that First and Khaotung are literally powerhouses regarding acting and I can't wait to see them in completely new roles we haven't seen them before.

It's surprising, yes, considering how fluffy and cute and comfy vibes they're excluding in their own personal lives but what do we know?! Maybe they wanted to try smth new or maybe they are multifaceted people who like the roles for personal reasons?

Not my place to speculate.

But to see people insisting on them being pushed to filming scenes like that against their will or feeling like they are 'too pure' for kink or sex scenes - that is outright disrespecting their integrity and free will and truly viewing them as only a dolls fans can play with and dictate what they can and cannot appear in.

They are talented, mindful and picky actors, who have enough of will and freedom to choose whatever roles they wanna explore.

P'Jojo is adamant about actors being okay and comfortable filming scenes like that and it was also mentioned that the final nc scenes are always first approved by the actors who star in them (as mentioned in the OF bts).

So knowing all that, insisting on FK being somehow unwilling participants of that, is reeking of homophobia and fan entitlement to actors choices. Stop that.

I went on a tangent a bit.

What I wanted to share as well though is the joy and anticipation!!

I struggle with series that literally rely just on sex scenes, while the plot, cinematography and editing is shite. In those cases sex scenes (though filmed well) are not enough to keep me interested.

In case of Heart Killers I am only excited. I know Jojo's work, so that's in itself is guarantee of quality as well as authentic queer experience (or fantasy in this case).

The soundtrack again will be a blast bc of Jojo's excellent taste and ofc Khaotung singing the smashing ost.

As for the genre I still have no fucking clue what's that supposed to be but I'm swinging wildly from action to romance to crime to comedy to thriller.

(side note: why are people now complaining about it being "soft/lith porn" is beyond me when similar people were excited about porn in different series ??? explain?

sideside note: also manymany straight media is basically porn hiding under fantasy or romance genre but I don't see people accentuating those being porn when talking about them

sidesideside note: also reducing the series that HAVEN'T EVEN COME OUT YET to mere porn is outright disrespectful to creators as well as actors)

The plot (excluding any possible spoilers since I avoid them like a fucking plague) seems engaging and interesting and full of twists and it will probably be not what we imagine or expect but that's exactly what I ehehe EXPECT of it.

As for the sex and kink.

Why should it be smth bad or morally wrong just because it's a bl? Just because it's a gay sex and kink?

I swing wildly between finding sex scenes boring, fascinating, completely no shut it off and being horny cause it's hot.

It's just how I am.

THK has the advantage that it has FK to keep my hyperfixation happy and considering the filming crew, the aesthetics and general vibe of the nc scenes will be bloody fucking beautiful.

I was fully hooked from the trailer and I can say that the combo of FK talent, sub/dom vibes, bondage and probably whole layer of christian guilt (saw you Jesus on a shirt, I'm so sorry) will be my downfall.

[altruistic-meme]

okay this mood bullshit is honestly sooo annoying urgh

[theetherealbloom]

AS GOOD A REASON - CH. 2 | OBERYN MARTELL

Chapter Two: Let The Dance With The Devil Begin

Summary: You, who has made it her life's work to get retribution on those who mistreated and harassed you when you were a child. The scars on your body are a physical reminder of the suffering you endured at the hands of abusers, and they also provide the fuel for your years-long quest for retribution.

Paring: Oberyn Martell x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, MINORS GO AWAY, GoT is full of serious and harmful topics, mentions of SA, Rape (not the reader), Murder, Violence, Gore, War, Poison, Scars, Burns, Scratching, Su!c!de, AU, Age–Gap Romance, Angst, FLUFF, Eventual SMUT, Swearing, PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, Crying, Suggestive content, Flirting, Blood, War, Religion References, Nudity, Domestic Abuse, Incest, Prostitution, Weapons, Fire, Horror, Character Deaths, Rewrite Alternate Universe, Sex, Alcohol, Revenge

Word Count: 7k

A/N: Omfg. I took so long to write this I know T^T Thank you for being patient with me! I just decided to have a mini break bcs I was jet lagged from travelling and had to focus on my health for a little bit. 

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: The Albatross by Taylor Swift

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RED KEEP, WESTEROS - 300 AC

You spent two decades carefully avoiding forming deep bonds, all the while meticulously plotting your revenge. You studied their weaknesses, habits, and relationships, patiently biding your time until you could strike from close range.

You had noticed the lingering glances between Cersei Lannister and Jaime Lannister, their whispered conversations turning into passionate encounters. So when Cersei bore a child, rumored to be the result of her incestuous relationship, and as you witnessed Joffrey Baratheon growing into a likeness of his parents, you recorded every detail in your leather-bound notebook. It contained all the information about those responsible for the death of Elia Martell, ensuring no detail escaped your scrutiny.

Serena, a girl you befriended in the bustling stables, is a steadfast ally in your quest for vengeance. Together, you both meticulously gather intelligence, weaving through the whispers of the kitchen staff and the secrets shared in the shadowy corners of brothels. With her keen eyes and your shared determination, you stalk those who have wronged you, laying the groundwork for your calculated retribution.

In the heart of the Seven Kingdoms, the struggle for power rages on. Joffrey Baratheon, seated upon the Iron Throne, wields authority backed by the formidable House Lannister. However, his claim faces challenge from his uncle Renly, who, bolstered by the might of House Tyrell, presses his own bid for kingship. In this turmoil, Tyrion Lannister arrives in King's Landing, aiming to assert control, only to find himself at odds with his conniving sister, Cersei, now entrenched as Queen Regent.

As autumn blankets the realm and whispers of an impending winter linger, Westeros braces for the bitter cold ahead. Yet, instead of preparing for the harsh season, the land remains conflicted. Renly Baratheon's sudden demise alters the tides of allegiance, leaving the political landscape in flux. Meanwhile, Joffrey, with the backing of House Tyrell, emerges victorious in a decisive clash against his uncle Stannis, solidifying his hold on power.

The fates of many hang precariously in the balance. In the labyrinthine corridors of King's Landing, both Tyrion Lannister and Sansa Stark navigate treacherous waters, their survival dependent on their ability to navigate the perilous currents of court intrigue.

You had served Sansa since the day she was first betrothed to King Joffrey. Back then, she had been full of dreams—visions of knighthood, love, and a golden crown. But those dreams quickly soured, turning into nightmares as the Lannisters’ hold over her tightened. What was once a promising union became a gilded cage. They kept her in the Red Keep, a prisoner beneath layers of silk and politeness. 

Sansa clung to her “lady-like” pursuits to distract from the harshness of her reality—sewing, embroidery, poetry, and music. Her stitches were always delicate, her voice soft, yet behind her graceful demeanor, you saw the cracks. You were there when Septa Mordane led her through the Red Keep’s throne room for a lesson in history. It was meant to be a glimpse into the glory of the Targaryens and the rulers of old, but instead, Sansa’s gaze lingered on the dark stain where her grandfather and uncle had been butchered by the Mad King. Her face paled, and she pressed her lips into a thin line, haunted by the ghosts of her own blood.

One evening, as she sat embroidering by the window, she confided in you. “Do you think I’ll be able to give Joffrey sons?” Her voice wavered. “What if… What if I’m only able to give him daughters, like Jeyne Poole’s mother?”

You tried to find reassuring words, though even Septa Mordane's attempts had done little to ease her fears. “You’re young, my lady. You will bear many children in time.”

Her blue eyes, wide with fear, met yours, but she said nothing more.

The Hand’s tournament arrived, and Sansa, despite everything, seemed to sparkle for a brief moment amidst the finery of the lords and knights. You stood in the shadows, watching her as she watched them. Ser Gregor Clegane, The Mountain, was a towering presence, and you felt a chill run down your spine as he unseated Ser Hugh of the Vale, killing him in the dust of the joust. Littlefinger whispered dark stories to Sansa of the Hound’s past, tales of burned flesh and brutal lessons. You saw the way Sansa’s hands trembled as she absorbed the horrors hidden beneath the chivalry.

Yet, there were moments of fleeting happiness. Ser Loras Tyrell, the famed Knight of the Flowers, gave her a single rose before his tilt with Ser Gregor. She blushed under his attention, but you noticed how Loras’s gaze lingered not on her, but on Renly Baratheon, who stood just behind. That small act of kindness, hollow as it was, brought a rare smile to Sansa’s lips, even as the court applauded Sandor Clegane’s intervention to stop his brother’s rampage.

But that brief joy was drowned by the darkness that soon followed. When King Robert Baratheon died after a hunting “accident,” everything unraveled. Eddard Stark, honorable as always, tried to reveal the truth about Joffrey’s parentage, but it was too late. You weren’t surprised when Littlefinger betrayed him. You had seen the cunning in his eyes long before, the way he played everyone like pieces on a cyvasse board. 

Chaos erupted. Eddard’s men, loyal to the last, were slaughtered by Lannister guardsmen led by Sandor Clegane. You remembered Mordane’s voice trembling as she urged Sansa to lock herself in their chambers. But there was no hiding from the Lannisters. They took her.

You watched from a distance as Sansa was humiliated before the court, her innocence crushed beneath the weight of Cersei’s cold cruelty. She stood there, trembling, and you saw the beginning of a transformation. The girl who once dreamed of knights and love was slowly breaking, her innocence being stripped away by every sneer, every command, every cold laugh in the throne room.

You wished you could offer her comfort, but in King’s Landing, comfort was as fleeting as mercy.

The great Sept was filled with the hum of whispers, the heavy weight of tension hanging in the air as Eddard Stark stood before the court. His face, weathered by years of honor and battle, now looked hollow, beaten by betrayal. You stood in the shadows, where servants always stood, your eyes flicking between the high lords and the northern Warden. As the silence fell, Eddard knelt, acknowledging his so-called “crimes” and pledging loyalty to King Joffrey.

For a moment, it seemed the court might breathe again. Sansa stood nearby, her hands trembling. Hope flickered in her eyes—briefly. But Joffrey, perched on the Iron Throne like some twisted boy-king out of a nightmare, leaned forward with a smile sharp as a blade. His words fell like a thunderclap. “Bring me his head.”

Sansa's scream cut through the hall, raw and broken. She lunged forward, hysterical, her voice lost in a storm of pleading, but the gold cloaks restrained her, forcing her back. Her cries—“Please, mercy, mercy!”—rang in your ears, making your stomach turn. 

Ser Ilyn Payne stepped forward, cold and unfeeling as he drew Ice, the greatsword of House Stark. You could see the light catch the edge of the steel, and the last thing Sansa saw before she fainted was her father’s final, resigned glance.

You moved through the chaos as a shadow. Your duty to Sansa came first, so as the blood pooled on the Sept’s floor, you carried her from the carnage, her limp body heavy with grief. The days that followed were hollow. She barely spoke, her eyes vacant as you tended to her, making sure she ate, dressing her in the Lannisters' silks even as her soul remained buried in sorrow.

It was one of those somber evenings when she finally spoke, her voice so faint you almost missed it. “Do you… serve the Lannisters?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

You paused, setting down the tray of untouched food, meeting her tired gaze. “Yes, my lady,” you answered softly.

Sansa’s eyes flickered with something—confusion, maybe anger. “Have they always been this cruel?” she asked, her words trembling with an innocent horror.

You weighed your response carefully, then nodded. “From what I’ve heard, unfortunately, yes.”

Her lips parted as she considered your answer, but it was her next question that cut deeper. “Then why do you serve them?”

You lowered your eyes, your hands folding over the fabric of her gown, the lie of your position hanging heavy on your shoulders. “It’s something I wager on,” you murmured, your voice steady despite the unease in your chest.

Sansa, always perceptive, frowned. “Is that the only kind of wager you make?”

For a moment, you froze. Then you let a faint smile tug at the corner of your lips, the words “Unbowed, unbent, unbroken” echoing in your heart, though unspoken. “There was one time I bet my entire life on something,” you confessed quietly.

She looked at you then, truly looked, her tear-streaked face searching yours. “Did you win?”

Your smile faltered, but you met her gaze with a spark of determination. “I’m planning to,” you said, with a quiet promise hanging between the two of you.

KING’S LANDING, RED KEEP — 300 AC

The stone walls of the Red Keep felt colder that night, the flickering torchlight casting long shadows on the ancient stones. In a small, dimly lit chamber tucked away from the grand halls, you worked in silence, the weight of your plan pressing down like the calm before a storm. Every movement was deliberate, each thought sharper than the edge of a Valyrian blade. The game was already in motion, and you were setting the pieces in place.

You had long been underestimated—a mere servant, a shadow in the background of the powerful Lannisters, Tyrells, and Martells. Yet, you had seen the truth: the most dangerous players were often those who remained unseen. You were one of them, a silent force, blending into the background while carefully planting the seeds of destruction. The poison, subtle and undetectable, was your weapon.

A soft knock interrupted your focus. The door creaked open, and there stood Petyr Baelish—Littlefinger himself. His thin lips curved into a smile, but there was no warmth in it, only calculation.

“Ah, a quiet place for quiet minds,” he murmured, his voice smooth as silk, eyes darting around the chamber before settling on you.

You raised your head slowly, meeting his gaze with a calm that belied the storm brewing inside you. Littlefinger wasn’t a man easily intimidated, but neither were you. Two wolves circling, each looking for the other’s weakness.

“You seem to find yourself in many quiet places, Lord Baelish,” you replied, voice soft but pointed. “What brings you here?”

He moved closer, his steps light, like a predator stalking prey. “Just ensuring the right wheels keep turning, ensuring the chaos that follows serves the right cause.” His gaze lingered on your hands, noting the fine movements as you handled a small vial, the liquid within almost imperceptibly shifting.

You allowed a small, knowing smile. “Chaos... Chaos can be useful. But only if it’s controlled.”

His eyebrow raised, amusement flashing in his eyes. “Controlled chaos? Now, that’s an art.”

You carefully set the vial down, your voice lowering to a conspiratorial tone. “What if the chaos that’s already simmering were to boil over? What if, after Joffrey’s wedding, his reign came to an... unexpected end?”

Baelish didn’t blink, though you could see the subtle change in his posture, the slight narrowing of his eyes. You hadn’t suggested anything outright—it was the art of planting the idea, the delicate balance of nudging him without him realizing he’d been led.

He took a slow breath, his mind already racing. “And who, I wonder, would have the audacity to arrange such an unexpected end?”

You smiled, but didn’t answer directly, your silence speaking volumes. Instead, you moved the conversation forward, allowing the implication to sink in.

“The realm is already full of hungry wolves, my lord,” you said, your voice steady, your hands working deftly as you began to clear away your tools. “All it takes is a nudge in the right direction, and they’ll tear each other apart. No one will stop to notice who did the nudging.”

Littlefinger tilted his head, studying you for a moment longer. “Perhaps,” he mused, his tone as noncommittal as ever, “but wolves are tricky. You can never be sure which way they’ll turn.”

“That’s true,” you conceded, meeting his eyes directly. “But I’ve always been good at reading the pack.”

The silence that followed was heavy, each of you measuring the other, testing the boundaries. He wouldn’t act on your words immediately. Littlefinger was too careful, too meticulous for that. But you could see the spark in his eyes—the idea was there, planted, waiting to take root.

With a nod, he turned to leave, but paused at the doorway. “You have a dangerous mind,” he remarked, half admiration, half warning. “Be careful. The pack bites back.”

You gave him a knowing look. “Only if they see the one holding the leash.”

Days passed, and as you moved through the grand halls of the Red Keep, you watched everything begin to fall into place. Like a silent puppeteer, you pulled the strings without ever needing to step into the light.

Varys had been busy, moving pieces on the board that even you hadn’t expected. Ros had whispered in his ear, and soon after, Lady Olenna Tyrell had been brought into the fold. The whispers of a marriage between Sansa Stark and Loras Tyrell spread through the castle like wildfire. You had always known Varys to be a man of schemes, but even you marveled at how quickly he moved.

In the gardens, you overheard the conversations as they unfolded—subtle, quiet, but filled with power. Lady Olenna, with her sharp wit and keen mind, was already orchestrating her plans, likely envisioning a future without Joffrey’s cruel reign.

You stood in the shadows as Littlefinger passed by, his expression unreadable. He had heard your suggestion, and though you were not directly involved, you knew the idea had taken root. He would set things in motion, ensuring the chaos that followed would serve him—and you would remain unseen, untouched by the blood that would soon spill.

RED KEEP, WESTEROS – 301 AC

The War of the Five Kings dragged on, but within the Red Keep, the battles were far subtler, fought with whispers and veiled threats. Your life as a servant under King Joffrey's reign had grown increasingly unbearable. Between the relentless demands of court life and the constant fear of his cruelty, you found little time to care for yourself.

Your headache throbbed—a reminder that you hadn’t eaten since dawn, and the long days had begun to blur into endless nights. It wasn’t uncommon for you to push through these spells, but this time felt different. The world around you grew heavier, your limbs sluggish, and the gardens seemed far away.

Basket in hand, filled with fruit from the kitchens, you trudged through the Red Keep's gardens. The bright afternoon light stabbed at your eyes, worsening the pounding in your head. You tried to focus on your task, but each step felt more labored, and a cold sweat broke out on your skin.

As you rounded a corner near the overgrown hedges, your vision blurred. The world tilted. The cobbled path beneath your feet shifted into an unforgiving blur of stone and soil, and with a muffled thud, everything went black.

In that hazy in-between of consciousness, a voice pulls you back—familiar, though distant. “He would have liked you,” Princess Elia’s voice echoes in your mind.

“Whom do you speak of, my lady?” you had once asked her, back when the Red Keep still buzzed with life and not dread.

“My brother. Oberyn. He’s trouble, but even so, I love him dearly.”

For a brief moment, you can almost feel her presence, and the weight of the past rushes over you like a cold wave. You blink, pulling yourself out of the memory just as a different voice fills your ears. A deeper one, full of curiosity and something unreadable.

You woke slowly, your senses coming back in fragments: the scent of crushed grass, the cool air against your skin, and the distant murmur of voices. Your eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the filtered sunlight through the leaves overhead.

"Careful. Don’t rush."

The voice was deep, tinged with amusement. A hand—warm and strong—rested on your shoulder, gently holding you down. You blinked, focusing on the face above you, unfamiliar yet striking. Dark, sharp eyes, framed by lustrous and black with only a few silver streaks recede from his brow into a widow's peak. The emblem of a red sun pierced by a golden spear embroidered on his tunic caught your eye.

Oberyn Martell. The Red Viper of Dorne.

“Are you injured?” His voice held a soft curiosity as if you were some puzzle he intended to unravel.

You shook your head, still disoriented. "No, I... I must have fainted."

He raised an eyebrow, glancing at the basket of spilled fruit beside you. “It seems you’ve been overworking yourself. King Joffrey’s court, I assume? They’re not known for their kindness.”

A rush of embarrassment warmed your cheeks. You scrambled to sit up, but Oberyn’s hand remained firm.

“Take your time,” he said, his tone softening. “Even a servant deserves a moment to breathe.”

You weren’t used to kindness, especially not from someone of his stature. His reputation as a fierce and dangerous man preceded him, yet there was something else—an air of compassion, albeit hidden beneath his sharp edges.

“I’m... grateful,” you murmured, unsure of how to respond. “But I should get back to my duties. They won’t—”

Oberyn interrupted with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Let them wait. The Lannisters have their claws in many, but even a viper can strike when the time is right.”

There was a pause, a subtle shift in the air between you and Oberyn Martell. His gaze lingered a little longer than necessary, and though his words were casual, they held an undercurrent you couldn’t quite place. It was as though he saw something deeper in you, something more than just a servant tending to her duties. Fate, or perhaps something far more dangerous, had drawn his attention to you.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he stood upright, his dark eyes gleaming with a playful intensity. "You Dornish are known for our... passions," he said, his voice a low, deliberate purr. "But it seems fate has a way of placing beauty in my path, whether I ask for it or not."

You blink, unsure of how to respond, heat rising uncomfortably to your face. He stepped closer, his presence both magnetic and overwhelming. His fingers brushed lightly against your wrist, lingering there a moment longer than propriety would allow. "Tell me," Oberyn continued, his tone playful yet edged with something deeper, "does a woman like you often find herself fainting at the feet of princes? Or is this a rare occasion?"

Your breath hitched, panic flaring inside you, though you did your best to suppress it. Affection—let alone attention—was something you were unaccustomed to. His flirtation was like a wildfire, threatening to burn through the careful walls you'd built around yourself.

"I... I don’t..." you stammered, trying to pull your thoughts together, your mind racing. You weren’t used to being noticed, not like this, not by someone like him.

Oberyn tilted his head, his smirk widening as if he could sense the flurry of emotions raging within you. "Don't be shy," he murmured, voice lowering as his eyes roamed over you with quiet curiosity. "I can see there's much more to you than meets the eye." 

The words felt like a tease, a challenge wrapped in silk, and your heart pounded in your chest, caught between the instinct to flee or stand frozen in place. Oberyn Martell's gaze seemed to strip away every defense you had carefully built over the years, as though he could see straight through the mask of servitude you wore.

You forced yourself to take a deep breath, steadying your trembling nerves. This was not the time to panic, not in front of the Red Viper of Dorne. He was too sharp, too dangerous, and your heart fluttered at the way his presence seemed to unsettle the very air around you.

Without answering the prince’s flirtatious remark, you bent down to hurriedly gather the fallen fruit, your fingers clumsy as you fumbled with the basket. But even as you moved, you felt his eyes on you, watching every motion with an almost predatory amusement.

A soft chuckle escaped his lips as he crouched beside you, his hand brushing yours as he handed you one of the scattered apples. "You're in quite the hurry," he murmured, the smirk never leaving his face. His touch lingered, deliberately slow as he placed the fruit in your basket.

You rose quickly, trying to distance yourself, but Oberyn stood just as swiftly. Before you could retreat, he grasped your wrist, pulling it gently toward him. His movements were fluid, effortless, as if this were a dance he had long perfected. He raised your hand to his lips, his dark eyes locked on yours, and pressed a kiss to your knuckles—his lips soft, warm against your skin.

Your breath caught, panic fluttering in your chest like a trapped bird. Heat crept up your neck, your heart racing as you tried to pull yourself together, but his touch seemed to set your mind spinning.

Just then, Oberyn’s eyes shifted, narrowing as he caught sight of something—your scars, peeking out from beneath your long sleeves. His brow furrowed ever so slightly, curiosity flashing across his features. He tilted his head, about to speak.

But you jerked your hand away, the sudden movement sharp, almost frantic. "I should go," you blurted, the words tumbling out hastily. You gathered your things, your pulse still thrumming wildly as you turned on your heel, desperate to escape his piercing gaze.

As you hurried away, you could feel Oberyn's eyes lingering on your retreating form, his expression unreadable. Even in your rush, you couldn’t shake the feeling that the prince wasn’t done with you yet.

KING'S LANDING, WESTEROS – 301 AC

The sun hung high over King’s Landing, its golden light casting a deceptive warmth over the cool sea breeze that drifted in from Blackwater Bay. You stood with Marei at the edge of the courtyard, the bustle of the palace below and the hum of the city distant beneath the tranquil air. The garden was alive with color, a stark contrast to the heavy gloom that clung to those gathered at the banquet table.

Shae moved with a quiet urgency, filling a plate with food from the banquet spread. She placed it in front of Sansa, who sat still, pale and lifeless, her face void of any spark. Her slender hands rested on her lap, unmoving. It was as if she had already become a shadow, despite still breathing.

“You need to eat something,” Shae urged softly, her voice carrying both concern and exasperation.

Sansa did not stir. 

“Pigeon pie,” Shae offered, her tone gentler now, but Sansa’s pale lips barely moved as she whispered, “No, thank you.”

A sigh escaped Shae, but she quickly turned back to the table, scanning for something else. With a quick motion, she removed Sansa's untouched plate and placed a new offering in front of her. “Lemon cakes?” Shae asked, a glimmer of hope in her voice. Everyone knew Sansa's love for lemon cakes.

Sansa’s voice, barely a whisper, responded again. “No, thank you.”

Shae’s expression faltered. “You love lemon cakes.”

But Sansa remained unmoved, as if the world around her had lost all meaning. Shae’s shoulders slumped in frustration, her eyes flicking toward you and Marei before glancing at the entrance of the courtyard.

Tyrion Lannister entered the garden with deliberate steps, his short legs struggling to match the long strides of the men he was often compared to. His eyes, sharp and calculating, scanned the scene with quick efficiency. Despite his stature, you had learned well enough that Lord Tyrion Lannister was not a man to be underestimated. His mind was his sharpest weapon.

“Tyrion,” Shae called out to him with a sigh of relief. “Tell her she needs to eat.”

Tyrion approached the table, offering a small, polite smile. “My lady, you do need to eat.”

Sansa’s gaze remained fixed somewhere in the distance, her hands limp in her lap. “I don’t need to eat,” she said softly, without even looking at him.

Tyrion hesitated for a moment, glancing between Shae, you, and Marei. His expression was measured, patient. “Could I have a moment alone with my wife?” he asked gently, though his tone held the firmness of a command.

You exchanged a quick look with Marei before bowing your head and stepping away. Shae, however, lingered, her eyes flashing with concern and defiance. She crossed her arms, unwilling to yield.

“She needs to eat,” Shae said stubbornly, her eyes narrowing as she looked between Tyrion and Sansa. 

Tyrion met her gaze, his expression imploring, but Shae’s frustration was palpable. With one last glance at Sansa, Shae reluctantly turned and left the garden.

Tyrion took a seat across from Sansa, his eyes softening as he reached out to take her hand. His grip was gentle, but firm enough to draw her from her daze. “I can’t let you starve, Sansa,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with quiet compassion.

Sansa didn’t react. She stared past him, her blue eyes hollow, as if the world had dulled to nothing but gray. Shae, now at the far end of the garden, cast a furious glance back toward Tyrion, her anger simmering just beneath the surface.

A FEW DAYS LATER

KITCHEN KEEP, KING'S LANDING — DAY

The kitchen was a chaotic blend of sounds and smells, with servants rushing around, preparing the feast for the garden party. You focused on your tasks, slicing fruits and arranging them neatly, hoping the repetitive motions would calm the unease bubbling in your chest. The Lannisters' garden parties always came with tension—too many eyes, too many secrets.

Serena, ever observant, moved beside you with a conspiratorial smile. Her presence had always been a quiet comfort, an unspoken pact between two women wronged by the same family. She nudged your side playfully, her voice just loud enough for you to hear over the clattering pans and murmurs of other servants.

“Guess what I overheard in the gardens earlier,” she whispered, her eyes sparkling with the excitement of fresh gossip.

You glanced up, your curiosity piqued. “What is it now?”

She leaned in closer, her voice dropping even lower. “Tyrion and Lord Varys were having one of their secret little chats. Something about Shae.” She gave a sly smile before recounting the conversation she’d overheard, her voice adopting a mocking impression of Tyrion's measured tone.

“Lord Varys. Breakfasting with the king?”

Your hands paused over the fruit, recognizing the weight of that simple greeting. Serena continued, now mimicking Varys’ smooth, ever-cautious reply.

“I’m afraid foreigners aren’t welcome at such exclusive affairs,” she quoted, barely concealing a smirk.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the slight smile that tugged at your lips. Tyrion and Varys—always circling each other, testing the limits of loyalty and power. Serena’s impression was spot on, and the dry chuckle she added to Varys’ line brought the exchange to life.

“Oh, to be foreign,” she muttered in Tyrion’s voice before glancing around the bustling kitchen with exaggerated suspicion, mimicking Varys’ quiet amusement.

“Ahem,” she finished with a soft laugh.

The kitchen clamor drowned out any chance of someone overhearing, but you kept your gaze fixed on your hands, focusing on the fruit before you. "What did they say after that?" you asked in a low voice, not wanting to appear too interested but knowing that information like this was often a lifeline in King's Landing.

Serena's smile dimmed slightly as she continued, her tone more serious now. “They were talking about Shae. Varys warned Tyrion that she’s been noticed. That Sansa’s maid saw them together, and it’s only a matter of time before Cersei—and worse, Tywin—find out.”

Your breath hitched slightly. That was dangerous—too dangerous for a place like this.

You glanced up at Serena, who nodded grimly. “Varys told Tyrion his father has promised to hang the next whore he’s found with.”

Your stomach twisted, though you managed to keep your expression neutral. Information like this could be a weapon if used correctly. But it also carried its own risks, especially for someone like you, who lived in the shadows of these powerful people. You simply nodded and whispered, "Thank you."

KING’S LANDING GARDEN, DAY — 301 AC

The gardens of the Red Keep, beautiful though they were, could not ease the tension that clung to the air. The lush greenery and sea breeze seemed wasted on the gathering before you, where cruelty simmered beneath the surface. You moved silently among the servants, pouring wine, offering trays of food, your head low as your sharp eyes observed everything. No one here was truly safe—not even those who smiled and pretended otherwise.

You had learned long ago to watch, to listen, to see things others missed. And here, among the so-called lords and ladies, your simmering hatred boiled just beneath the surface. Revenge had a way of lurking in quiet moments like these, waiting for the perfect opportunity.

At the head of the table sat King Joffrey, his golden crown glinting in the sun like a mockery of all that was just. Around him, the key players of the realm gathered: Queen Cersei, her eyes sharp and watchful; Lord Tywin, stoic and commanding as always; Prince Tommen, innocent and ignorant of the malice around him; and Grand Maester Pycelle, old and leering.

But your attention flickered to Sansa Stark. Pale, withdrawn, her once-vibrant spirit all but crushed under the weight of her suffering. She sat beside her husband, Tyrion Lannister, who, despite his small stature, radiated an awareness far sharper than anyone gave him credit for. The tension between them was palpable, an unspoken grief they both carried.

Your heart tightened as you watched, knowing Sansa's pain was not unlike your own. Like her, you had learned to survive in silence, though your silence was of a different kind. The Lannisters had taken too much from you. They were going to pay for it one day, one way or another.

Across the table, Lord Mace Tyrell puffed out his chest, carrying a gleaming goblet, his voice filled with a pride that bordered on foolishness.

“From House Tyrell and the people of the Reach, Your Grace, it is my honor to present you with this wedding cup.”

He placed the goblet before Joffrey, who barely looked at it, his lips curling into a mocking smile.

“A handsome goblet, my lord. Or shall I call you Father?”

You noted how Mace Tyrell’s face flushed with both pride and unease. He bowed deeply. “I would be honored, Your Grace.”

As Mace withdrew, Shae moved gracefully through the crowd, setting a tray before Sansa. You saw how her eyes flickered toward the young girl, but there was no response from Sansa, no recognition of the kindness that once might have been there.

Then, the sharp voice of Queen Cersei pierced the moment, her words venomous.

“She’s the whore I told you about. The dark-haired one.”

Your blood boiled as you saw Shae stiffen. The insult cut through the air like a blade, but Shae, ever composed, turned to leave without a word. You noticed how Tywin’s cold eyes followed her, narrowing as she walked away.

“Have her brought to the Tower of the Hand before the wedding,” Tywin ordered, his voice devoid of any emotion, yet as sharp as a death sentence.

Tyrion’s face darkened. You could see the concern etched into his features, his helplessness as he tried to control a situation slipping further out of his grasp. Your heart raced, knowing the precarious game being played here—and how dangerous it was for all involved.

Shae’s departure was barely noticed as Podrick stepped forward, carrying a large tome. He placed it carefully before Joffrey, and Tyrion followed, a strained smile on his face as he addressed the king.

“A book,” Joffrey said, his voice dripping with disdain.

Tyrion clasped his hands together, speaking with calm civility. “The Lives of Four Kings. Grand Maester Kaeth’s history of the reigns of Daeron the Young Dragon, Baelor the Blessed, Aegon the Unworthy, and Daeron the Good. A book every king should read.”

For a brief moment, Joffrey hesitated. His sharp tongue seemed to fail him as the weight of the gift hovered in the air. But Tywin’s piercing gaze prodded him, and the boy-king forced a mocking smile.

“Now that the war is won, we should all find time for wisdom,” Joffrey said, his voice laced with scorn. “Thank you, Uncle.”

Tyrion bowed, but the tension between them crackled like a hidden storm.

Before anyone could breathe, The Mountain lumbered forward, carrying a sword swathed in black cloth. He laid it before Joffrey with all the reverence of a knight presenting a sacred relic. Tywin rose, his voice steeped in gravitas as he spoke.

“One of only two Valyrian steel swords in the capital, Your Grace, freshly forged in your honor.”

Joffrey’s eyes gleamed with an almost childlike excitement as he tore the sword from its sheath, its blade gleaming ominously in the sunlight. You felt a ripple of unease roll through the gathered nobles as the blade sliced through the air.

“Careful, Your Grace,” Pycelle croaked from his seat. “Nothing cuts like Valyrian steel.”

But Joffrey’s wicked grin only widened. “So they say.”

In a sudden, violent movement, Joffrey swung the sword down, cleaving the book Tyrion had gifted him clean in half. The sound of tearing parchment and splintering leather echoed through the garden. A gasp rippled through the crowd, but Joffrey was delighted with himself.

“Such a great sword should have a name,” Joffrey declared, his eyes burning with cruel glee. “What shall I call her?”

The crowd murmured suggestions, none of which seemed to please the boy-king. But then, his lips curled into a malicious grin.

“Widow’s Wail. I like that. Every time I use it, it’ll be like cutting off Ned Stark’s head all over again.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine. You saw Sansa freeze beside him, her face drained of color, her entire body rigid with the memory of her father’s execution. Across the garden, Shae watched, her eyes narrowing with unspoken fury.

You kept your head down, but the seething rage inside you boiled hotter. One day, they would all pay for this. The Lannisters, their cruelty, their arrogance—it would all come crashing down. And you would make sure of it.

KING’S LANDING GARDEN, LATE AFTERNOON — 301 AC

The preparations for the royal wedding between Joffrey and Margaery were endless, consuming the days and nights of everyone within the Red Keep. But while others concerned themselves with the surface duties, your mind was preoccupied with a far more dangerous task.

The thought of the Strangler stones hidden within Sansa's necklace gnawed at you. The pieces were already in motion, each step methodically planned. Your hands moved through the flowers you were tasked with arranging, but your thoughts were elsewhere, carefully calculating the next move in your plot to bring down King Joffrey without implicating yourself. 

As you worked alone in the gardens, the late afternoon sun blazed overhead. The sweat clung to your skin, and the heat forced you to roll your sleeves up just enough to reveal the faint, jagged lines of scars that adorned your forearms. The burn scars, remnants of your brutal encounter with Ser Gregor Clegane, were still a reminder of what you endured—and survived. The pain was still fresh, but it fueled your resolve. Spite, after all, was a powerful motivator.

You barely noticed the approaching footsteps until a shadow fell across your path. Looking up, you were met with the sharp, knowing gaze of Oberyn Martell. His smirk was playful, as it often was, but there was something deeper there—an intensity that sent a ripple of unease through you. 

"You work too hard," he said smoothly, his voice like silk. "It’s a crime to see such beauty covered in dirt."

You straightened, brushing your hands on your apron, trying to keep the panic from showing. "I have my duties, my lord," you replied, keeping your tone even. The way Oberyn looked at you—intense, almost predatory—made your heart race, though you tried to remain composed.

He crouched beside you, plucking a flower from the arrangement and twirling it between his fingers. His eyes flicked briefly to the scars on your arm, scars you quickly moved to conceal by rolling down your sleeves. But it was too late—Oberyn’s gaze lingered on them for just a moment, something unreadable flickering in his expression. 

The way he studied you wasn’t merely out of curiosity, but recognition. His next words carried a weight that hung in the air between you both. 

"There are stories... of a servant who once attended to Princess Elia." Oberyn’s tone remained casual, but you could feel the shift, the tension creeping in as he spoke. "They say she escaped the Sack of King’s Landing with her life. Barely."

Your breath hitched, but you forced yourself to remain still. You had heard those stories too. After all, you had lived them.

Oberyn leaned closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "Some say she vanished, swallowed by the chaos. Others claim she survived through sheer will, fueled by spite." His dark eyes locked onto yours, searching. "I wonder… do you know of such tales?"

The question lingered in the air, heavy with suspicion. You met his gaze, your heart pounding in your chest, but your face remained a mask of composure. "Many stories are told in King’s Landing, my lord. Few of them hold any truth."

Oberyn’s lips curled into a faint smile, but his eyes remained sharp, watching you carefully. "Perhaps," he murmured. "But then again, some tales are more dangerous than others." He stood up, still twirling the flower between his fingers, casting one last glance at your concealed scars. "Sometimes, survival speaks louder than words."

Before you could respond, the sound of footsteps interrupted the moment. Ellaria Sand approached, her eyes already on you. There was a possessiveness in her gaze, though softened by intrigue.

“So this is the woman who has caught my prince’s eye,” Ellaria remarked, her voice a low purr as she moved closer, her hand brushing lightly against Oberyn’s shoulder.

You bowed your head, hiding the inner storm brewing within you. "My lady," you greeted, though the tension in the air was unmistakable.

Ellaria’s gaze flicked to Oberyn, then back to you. “She is different,” she said, her tone intrigued, but there was an edge of caution in her words. “I wonder what it is you see in her, my love?”

Oberyn chuckled softly, his attention still on you. “There’s something about her,” he said, his voice smooth, yet laced with deeper meaning. “Something familiar.”

Ellaria looped her arm through his, drawing him closer to her side. “Familiar or not, I trust you know where your loyalties lie.”

Oberyn’s smile deepened, but his gaze didn’t waver from you. "Always," he replied to Ellaria, but his words were aimed at you, and the unspoken suspicion between you both lingered in the air, unsaid but undeniable.

As the two of them moved off together, your heart pounded in your chest. Oberyn's words, the way he had looked at you—he was starting to piece it together. He suspected who you truly were, but for now, he remained silent, watching. You returned to your task, but the weight of his suspicion clung to you. 

Everything had only just begun, and you were already in far deeper than you had anticipated. But like the scars on your skin, the memories of your past had shaped you into what you were now. And just like that day long ago, you would survive.

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