#or they could be meeting her under that premise at least

[hauntrcss]

“my mind costs more than pretty penny.” gaze remains downcast, certain to avoid any unnecessary contact. no distractions, that’s the name of this particular game. for helena, that’s the name of every game: for every day of her life, it’s about no unwelcome intrusions but rather connections that will only bring her further to reaching her ultimate goal of taking down the sicilian mafia. perhaps that’s what he will bring, & she certainly hopes so — otherwise what was the point of meeting up in the first place?

fingers take cautious hold of the porcelain cup resting before her, filled to its brim with the finest coffee that could be procured at their established place of meeting. It’s not the most adorned of cafes, but she had decided upon choosing that it would be acceptable for the purpose at hand. no frills. “ & my mind is not a place you want to be. did you have information for me?”

[lostalioth]

𝐬𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐬

→ premise: at the club where you danced it wasn’t unusual for you to have regulars, they were normally gross married men but there was one regular that stood out from the rest, your favorite. a grumpy ‘business’ man with a black metal arm.

→ pairing: mob!bucky barnes x dancer!fem!reader

→ warnings: smut | 18+, lap dance, choking, grinding/dry humping, nicknames [sweetness, sugar, princess], reader calls bucky mr. barnes & james, whore is used in a derogatory way once at reader, violent language used once, mention of a gun + description of it aimed at someone, mob!bucky but he’s described more as a ‘bussiness’ man sooo, and reader is described as dancing sexually for/on men.

→ a/n: kinktober 15

You were Bucky's favorite.

Now he’d never visited many clubs like yours for anything other than business meetings. The men he was making deals with often picked the spots, he merely indulged their requests so they'd be more willing to fulfill his and do business with him. After a client requests they meet at your club ‘the spades’ however he finds himself coming far more often than just his everyday dealings. All for the pretty little dancer wearing black and gold on stage.

Bucky swears the moment he laid eyes on you, that you were made for him. He made an arrangement with the owner to allow him to do his work out of the club sometimes. Part of that deal included that everytime he came in, he’d request you. If you weren't working that day he told the other dancers not to bother him, he wanted you, only you. And when you were busy the owner tried offering him the services of another dancer for the time being. Bucky simply threw the combined money it was to pay for his session and pay for the gentlemen’s session you were with to end. “I want her, just her” he explained leaning back against the cushioned bench in a private room he often occupied paying the other dancer no mind as she huffed lightly and walked away.

Unbeknownst to Bucky, you had taken note of which days he’d come in to do business and started to request those days to work instead of your regular schedule. Happily indulging the mysterious man's request for you everytime. The other girls were often pissy at you for it, not understanding why he never requested any of them. He was a very attractive man, far more attractive than any of your usual grimy regulars that they had to deal with. He often tipped you far above the price for a dance session as well, slipping a few extra hundreds into your bra with a cocky smirk.

The cycle has been going on for around 4 almost 5 months now and as each week has passed you learnt more and more about him. First it was basic stuff like his age and his name even his birthday as he came to the club on the day for it.

“You’re the only birthday present I need sugar” his face holding that signature cocky smirk although under his usual deep sometimes sarcastic tone you could hear the sincerity. “Guess I’ve gotta treat ya’ extra special for tonight’s dance huh?” You smile in return trying to ignore your heart skipping a beat.

Then eventually you learned things like how he always was packing a piece everywhere he went, but you had never felt it before cause he takes it off before you come to him. You learned where he kept it when one drunk guy got too aggressive with you when you tried ending his session because Bucky had walked in. The guy was pulling you back to him with an extra hard grip on your arm.

“Uh- sir you're not allowed to grab the dancers..” you explain, a slight edge to your voice you were nervous. He was grumbling something about how you weren't done and if he was gonna pay that much for a whore to dance then she should at least finish. You couldn't tell as it was all coming out a gargled slurred mess. Bucky had come over to break it up, or well break it up his way. Pulling his gun out on the guy, pointing it towards his head as he rested a hand on your lower back. “If you don‘t let go of her in the next few seconds, your brains are gonna be splattered across the stage and that dancer's feet up there. Do we understand each other?” He explained in an oddly calm tone, everybody else in the club was frozen, even the owner and the guards, they all knew not to mess with Bucky. Safe to say the man let go and hadn’t come back to your club after that. And you tried your hardest not to let bucky feel the fact your core was soaking wet as you danced on him after that altercation. He could very much tell, it was hard not to and it sent an ache straight to his cock, he loved that him protecting you and threatening the man got you all riled up.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ♤ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You were currently dancing up on the long runway stage that ran down the middle of the club, sexy slow music that was playing filled the room alongside drunk men hooting and hollering at you. As you bent over at the waist rolling your hips and showing off your plump ass to the crowd earning you even louder wolf whistles you notice Bucky walk in. The end of the stage facing the front door, you smile lightly. You tried to push it down but an odd happiness always filled your body when he came in, maybe it was just because he was more entertaining than any of your other regulars or the fact he was sweet on you. You didn't know what it was but you’d much rather entertain him than the hammered bachelor party that was sitting as close as they could be to the stage.

Snapping back up facing away from the group of men you walk back up the stage with a sway in your hips making your way off it. Bucky secretly loved it every time you’d leave what you were doing to come to him, he was your priority the second he’d walk in and you made the other customers know it. Grabbing a hold of his hand you drag him along behind you still swaying your hips softly in rhythm with the music.

Bucky never let anyone tell him what to do ever, let alone drag him anywhere but he swears you hypnotize him with your hips rocking side to side. If you asked him to in that sweet tone of yours while batting your eyelashes at him he’d kill someone, anyone in a heartbeat. You barely even have to drag him along as you make your way towards the private room he always used, using your grip however to pull him in the room, closing the curtain and placing him down on the velvet cushioned seat.

“Always know just what I want the second I walk in huh sweetness?” He coos, his eyes roaming your body as you sway around in front him giving him a whole 360 view of your skimpy outfit. You were wearing black and gold again, you wore the combination of colors more often once you noticed the fact it matched his metal prosthetic as well as when he told you they were his favorite colors on you.

“Of course Mr. Barnes” you smile at him, slowly making your way closer resting your mancuried hands down on his thighs running them up painfully slow. “I told you that ya’ can call me James, princess” he tsks and slightly shakes his head as his body relaxes under your touch. Bending over you lean in closer, your face inches away from his, his whiskey and cool mint breath wafting through your nose and your addictive perfume filling Buckys. “Okay Jamesss..” you drag out his name giving it an emphasis that makes his cock ache as it falls past your lips and his breath hitch in his throat. You smirk and spin your body around to continue dancing and rub your ass lightly over his thighs as your hands grip onto them. Slowly you snap back up to stand straight in front of him, your body between his now spread out thighs. Running your hands along your body as you dance, down your sides and over your ass as your hips move and whine. His hands brush over your hips and up your sides as you dance on his lap, even brushing over yours, goosebumps rising on your skin under his touch.

Swaying and spinning around again before you get too lost in his touch, making him drop his hands you turn to face him as you make your way closer again. Placing your knee down besides his large body you push your weight up and put your other knee down on the other side of him so your body is hovering over his lap. Leaning against the back of the bench he smirks as your hips gyrate and sway over his lap. Needing to feel your body and your skin under his hands again he grabs ahold of your waist pushing you down further onto his lap. “Might as well sit where ya’ belong sugar” he chuckles lightly, his hands not letting go of your hips as you keep on dancing on his lap. Hips grinding and body moving in tune to the music yet you were practically dry humping him now. Your hands push at his chest as you continue dancing, trying your hardest to not think about how good it feels to be almost grinding your cunt against his cock.

This isn't how you were meant to be dancing on him, and he certainly wasn’t supposed to be touching you as much as he was and yet from the moment he shook hands with the owner and made that deal those rules never applied to him. His right hand slowly drifts up your side over your chest and up towards your neck. Your eyes are locked with his as he wraps his fingers around your neck. You have to bite your lip to stop a whine slipping out, his grip not hard yet tight enough that you lose a bit of oxygen and your head starts to spin.

His jeans thighten as his cock throbs in his denim prison, “Fuck princess, wish we had far more privacy than this stupid curtain” he growls out. Your hips grind down harder against him in response, your core aching for pleasure now as your eyes screw shut. Bucky lets go of your neck only to grab ahold of your chin pulling your face down close to his. You’ve come to know that when he grabs your face he wants you to pay attention, pulling you closer almost like it's a secret. You open your eyes, your pupils so big there's barely a ring of their beautiful color left around them as you look at him. He smirks, dropping his voice to a whisper. “How much for you to just quit this dumb club and be my little personal dancer huh sweetness?” He asks, a cocky yet serious tone in his voice.

“What…?” You whisper in response, a bit fuzzy on what he was asking. “Quit and come live with me, be my personal dancer, ya’ practically already are princess” he explains further, your hips have not exactly stopped their grinding which only makes his smirk grow bigger. “i cant- i can't quit i need this job for the money” you stutter out yet you knew deep down he didn't really have to even offer you a penny and you’d be giving your two weeks notice and walking out that front door with him but you had to try your best to stand your ground.

“I’ll give you triple whatever the largest amount that you’ve made was sugar, just want ya’ all to myself..” the last part of his statement comes out in a whisper that you don’t know if you were meant to hear or not. A sweet smile spreads on your face as your hands run down his chest landing on his hips as you push yourself up, counting to dance on his lap.

“Then i do believe we have a deal Mr. Barnes”

He makes a clicking sound with his tongue and tilts his head, waiting on you to correct yourself.

“Jameesss” you coo in correction, affection almost dripping from your voice, giggling softly when his hand falls back around your throat and his grip tightens back up. A sound that makes Bucky's head spin and a matching smile form on his face.

→ a/n: i had so many thoughts for mob!bucky x dancer/stripper!reader’s dymanic that i got a bit carried away and i also wanna write for them again. also this wasn’t proofread

[minarisplaything]

I Know What You Want ft. Wonyoung

premise: Inspired by those "your birth month is your ex gf and your current gf" slideshows on tiktok. Might do more of these because they are light and fun.  

pairing: Wonyoung x Male Reader content warning/kinks: cheating, daddy kink, anal a/n: happy sunday, always lube up properly o7 audio version (note: audio version is without daddy kink bc i got too lazy to edit around it) wc: 2.4k

"Isn't she a little old for you?" Wonyoung asked, a hint of annoyance in her tone. 

"You sound jealous." 

She shrugged. "I'm not jealous. I just didn't realize Sunmi-sunbaenim was into robbing the cradle." 

"I'm twenty-one," you pointed out. Surely grown enough to make your own decisions on who you dated.  

"She's thirty-two," Wonyoung countered. 

You let out an annoyed sigh, "I'm not doing this with you today, Wonyoung. Why did you want to meet?" 

Wonyoung bristled at your directness, her posture straightening as she scoffed. "You start fucking some hag and you start acting brand new around me." 

"Some hag? Really? Wasn't it you who kept saying how much you adored Sunmi-sunbaenim?" 

"That was before she took what was mine."  

You let out a bark of dry laughter. "I'm not yours. I don't belong to you, Wonyoung." 

A healthy response would have been to accept the setting of boundaries and acknowledge their mistake. Which naturally meant that Wonyoung took your words as a challenge.  

"Is that right?" she asked, taking a step towards you. "You belong to her now, huh?" 

"That's right." Which wasn't exactly true. You didn't think you belonged to anyone but something about the entitlement she was acting with made you respond out of indignation.  

What you didn't expect was for her hand to reach out, manicured fingers sliding down to grasp your crotch. "Then why do I still get you hard?"  

"Wonyoung -- "  

A thin eyebrow arched itself, the picture of arrogance. "Are you going to deny it?" 

"Your delusional."  

"Am I?" She began to massage your cock over your clothing, and despite your protest, your cock was all too eager to respond to her familiar touch. "Are you telling me if I bent over right now you wouldn't fuck me against this wall?" 

God you hated her. Or at least you should. The reality was that despite your separation. Despite the toxicity that had existed in your relationship. Despite being in a happy relationship now. There would always be a part of you that was weak to her. To both her advances and her behavior. 

As if sensing your wavering disposition, her touch became heavier. "I'm not wearing any panties under this skirt," she said her tone taking on an innocent air. "Just the way Daddy likes." 

That was all it took.  

It was pathetically easy in the end for Wonyoung to get you to snap. Though, if anyone was going to be capable of it, it was going to be her. She knew you too well, for better and for worse. In fact, you wouldn't be surprised if her whole look today; the mid-thigh length skirt, the cropped blouse that was a size too small and hugged her frame as a result. She even let her hair down today so it'd be easy for you to grab it. Combine that with her lack of underwear and calling you daddy and, well, you never stood a chance.  

You surged forward, gripping Wonyoung's shoulders and spinning her to face the wall. She lead out a delighted fit of laughter as she arched her back, pressing her ass against your groin. Your hands moved to your buckle, shoving down your pants to free your cock from its denim cage. 

"I can't stand you, you know that?" 

Wonyoung giggled as she tossed you a look over her shoulder, "Whatever you say, Daddy." 

With cock in hand you used the other to shove her skirt up, revealing that she had spoken true in her words. You could see her bare pussy, practically begging for you. You bit your bottom lip, hating that the thought of missing this crossed your mind. "You were waiting for this weren't you?" 

"Can you tell?" Wonyoung smiled wickedly, "Can't you see how wet I am for you?" 

You could. And if you needed any further confirmation you ran your cock between her legs, coating it in her arousal. You had to stop yourself from delving into any further foreplay. This was just a one-time fuck to get it out of your system. At least that was what you told yourself. But as you slipped the tip of your cock into her and began to thrust forward, you were reminded of why it had been so hard to quit Wonyoung in the first place. 

"Oh fuck yes, Daddy," Wonyoung said, her back arching further. "You feel how you're stretching my tight pussy? You haven't felt that in a while have you?" 

You bit back the urge to tell Wonyoung that wasn't how that worked. Now wasn't the time for a biology lesson nor defending your girlfriend's honor. Instead you focused on stuffing her inch by inch, watching as her pussy swallowed more and more of you until you were pressed flush against her ass. 

"Oh, fuck," you groaned out, your head falling forward slightly.  

"It feels good doesn't it? It's perfect," Wonyoung cooed. "We're perfect." 

Your brow furrowed slightly. "Don't think I'm won over that easily." 

Refusing to give into the sentiment that she was suggesting you slipped your cock out of her before stuffing her again and again. You repeated the process, each time going a bit hard, a bit faster while making sure she felt every inch of your cock. The truth was it was fucking heavenly. Sex had never been the reason your relationship fell apart. And even now months later it was like returning to something familiar. Despite yourself you wanted to enjoy this, for however long it lasted. 

Your fingers moved to tangle in her dark, wavy locks, pulling her head back as her lithe body shook with your rough thrusts.  

"You like that, Wony? This is what you wanted right?" You taunted, giving into the moment as you seized back control.  

"Yes!"  

"You couldn't find anyone else to fuck you this good could you?"  

"Noo," she moaned. 

You tugged on her hair roughly, "No, what?" 

"No one fucks me this good, Daddy!"  Wonyoung cried out. 

You rewarded her diligent response with a spank on her fit ass.  

"Mmmfph!" She moaned, biting her bottom lip as you continued to fuck her roughly. You could feel her walls tightening around you, her juices already dripping around your cock each time you pulled out of her. The telltale signs that her first orgasm was on the horizon were there for you to see. The way her cheeks flushed, the way her mouth hung upon as she did her best to hold herself against the wall. All she needed was for you to push her over the brink.  

"Are you going to come for me? Come for daddy," you whispered against her the shell of her ear as you stuffed her. 

"F-fuck! I'm coming!" Wonyoung cried out, not even bothering with trying to contain her moans of pleasure. The look on her face was pure ecstasy and you found it was a look that, despite having near memorized it, it was one you missed. 

Her walls tightened around your length as her orgasm shook her body. You were relentless, continuing to fuck the top idol through her climax. One arm slipped around her waist should her legs go weak on her. By the time it was all over she had leaned forward, her face pressed against the wall, her eyes slightly glazed over as her body rocked with your slower thrusts.  

  As you looked at her perfect ass still pointed out to you, an idea popped into your head. 

"Don't move" you instructed her, though you weren't sure if she comprehended you. 

You slipped your cock out of her, ignoring the lazy "Hey..." That came from Wonyoung at your action. You were still achingly hard and now thoroughly coated in her juices. That would come in handy soon enough. You got down on your knees, spreading her firm cheeks. Her pussy lips were swollen from your rough fucking but that wasn't your target, instead your tongue was probing her asshole, much to Wonyoung's surprise. 

"W-what are you doing," she asked, the intrusion bringing her some of her senses back. Still, she made no move to stop you.  

Her inaction only emboldened her as your tongue worked her backdoor. In all the months the two of you had spent together. In all the spontaneous sessions that broke out between you whether it was loving or after a fight, this was the one hole that Wonyoung had never let you claim. In fact, she had been adamant about it every time you even mentioned it. But you had a plan for that now. When you were satisfied you withdrew your tongue and moved to test her hole with your index finger. 

"Really, what are you up to back there?" Wonyoung said, letting out a shaky breath. 

"Ssh, just relax," you instructed her. 

"You – fuck – you know that's off-limits," she returned. 

Now was your trump card.  

"Sunmi let me fuck her ass." 

A poignant pause hung in the air. It was as if Wonyoung was considering what you had just said. Though, given her actions thus far, you had a feeling you already knew her mind was made up. Wonyoung wasn't nearly as cut-throat as some made her out to be but she wasn't someone who took kindly to coming in second place. Least of all when it came to you. 

"Make sure you don't go to hard" she finally said. "And you better soak your cock, I'm not some stretched out hag." 

"Unnecessary," you chided her. Still, she was right on one point. You returned your tongue to her asshole, preparing it the best you could before moving back to your feet. Your cock slipped inside of Wonyoung again, giving her a few rough thrusts before pulling out and applying some more natural lubrication of your own as you spit on your cock. Finally you were ready. Well, as ready as you could be. Mostly your cock was just aching at the thought of finally being inside Wonyoung's ass.  

You positioned your tip at her entrance, gently beginning to push the head forward. "Remember to relax," you said, a hand on her lower back. 

"Oh, fuck," Wonyoung swore, her cheek pressed against the wall. "You're too fucking big." 

  "I thought you liked that," you taunted her. 

"Shut up," she groaned.  

You couldn't help but chuckle. There was the Wonyoung you knew. Not the princess she pretended to be in front of the camera. You continued pushing ahead, slow and steady as the head of your cock finally penetrated her.  

"Holy shit..." You muttered under her breath. 

"Fuck. Just....wait there a second," Wonyoung muttered, one long arm reaching back to press against your hip as she got accustom to the new stretch. 

You were more than happy to abide. Even just having past the head of your cock in her ass had you reeling. You knew that some of your reaction would be based on the novelty of it. On the fact that you were fucking Jang Wonyoung's ass for the first time. That you were the only person to ever do so. But the truth was it also felt far better than you could have imagined. It wasn't your first time. You hadn't lied when you said that Sunmi had taken you first. And, to be fair, you had loved it then too. But it had been different. You had merely experienced it as Sunmi rode you, in control the entire time. On top of that,t here wasn't the same history. As much as you hated to admit it, it didn't compare to this. 

"Okay," Wonyoung said, breaking you from your thoughts, "You can move." 

That was all you needed to hear. You pushed forward, inch by inch watching as her hole stretched around your cock until you made it about halfway down the length of your shaft.  

"This will have to do," you grunted. 

You began to move your hips, slowly at first as you rocked against her before adding more vigor. Steadily with drawing your cock before filling her backdoor again and again. Soft pants left Wonyoung as her nails dug into your flesh, her hand holding onto your thigh. 

"How does it feel," you asked her. 

"Like I'm being split in half," she groaned. 

"And?" 

Wonyoung was silent for a moment before a breathless, "...so good." 

"Yeah?" Your cock twitched inside of her. 

She nodded, her eyes closed, "Fuck yes. Fuck, your cock feels so good inside my tight little asshole." 

"That's right," you said, picking up the pace. "And no one will make you feel like this." 

"It's all yours," Wonyoung moaned. "Always yours, Daddy." 

Somewhere along the way you had transitioned to the one who was laying a possessive claim as opposed to Wonyoung. Whatever, you tossed it up to the heat of the moment. This changed nothing but it did motivate you to see this through to the end. After that it'd be like this never happened but until then her ass was yours. 

Your grip on her hips tightened as your pace increased, pounding her  backdoor. Wonyoung's hand dipped between her thighs, rubbing her clit as she chased her second orgasm.  

"Fuck!" She chanted, becoming more vocal as her climax drew near. 

"I'm going to come," you grunted. "I'm going to fill you up." 

Wonyoung didn't have the capacity to reply, instead her mouth fell open in a silent cry as her second orgasm washed over her. Not one to be a liar you finally managed to fit your entire length into her ass, just in time for your own release to hit you. Your cock swelled before spilling an obscene amount of cum into her bowel. As you pulled your cock out you watched your cum ooze out of her puckered hole.  

"Jesus christ..." You muttered, chest heaving.  The sight alone was damn near enough to make you want a round two. 

For once Wonyoung didn't have a smart comeback, instead slowly sinking to the ground in a heap, her cheek still pressed against the wall as she tried to catch her breath. Idly you couldn't help but wonder if this was how she imagined this encounter was going to go when she first confronted you. Maybe you'd get to ask her once some of her senses returned. For now you just wanted to bask in the pleasure of what had just happened without thinking too hard. 

TWO WEEKS LATER. 

"Un-fucking-believable." 

You stared at your phone, watching as the latest tiktok reel came across your screen. You watched as your girlfriend, Sunmi, and your ex-girlfriend, Wonyoung, completed a dance challenge together. Of course, Sunmi had no idea about your past relationships. Wonyoung on the other hand was well aware. 

And yet here she was, doing a dance challenge with the same woman whose boyfriend had been fucking her ass not two weeks earlier. 

You could only shake your head in disbelief and some mild concern. "What the hell are you plotting, Wony." 

[weepingchronicles]

Could you do a yandere Caitlyn kiramman from arcane x fem reader?

thank you for your request! sorry if this is ooc, i feel that i am not that good at writing for caitlyn but i tried. </3 also!! no s2 spoilers :)

content warnings: controlling and obsessive behavior, little bit of infantilizing, forced drugging, implied kidnapping.

❝yandere!caitlyn kiramman x fem!reader❞

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 Whether you were from Zaun or Piltover treats you with kindness. If you're from Piltover she thinks of you as an equal and might admire you to some degree if you are talented. If you're from the undercity she might have some reservations about you at first but as she gets to know you better she puts those thoughts aside and begins to see you as an equal and friend. For this though let's just assume you both are co-workers!

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 I think Caitlyn is so focused and goal-driven she will have difficulty realizing she likes you more than just a comrade or friend. It will start with longing glances, she spaces out just staring at you without even realizing she is missing orders from her superior. When others ask Cait what she thinks of you, she gets a bit distracted.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁"She's an excellent friend and partner. .! I could not imagine anyone else replacing her. I find her very admirable, her strength and her clever nature. The way she holds her gun, when she forgets a loose button on top of her uniform, the way her eyes widen when she-" and on and on and on. . .

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 It actually takes someone else to point out her obvious crush on you for her to realize. She is completely flabbergasted and in denial at first, "What! No way- what are you talking about? Yes, she is my friend but also my co-worker! That'd be completely unprofessional!"

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 But then she can't stop overanalyzing all her interactions with you. Whenever you enter a room her heart sinks to her stomach. God forbid you actually go beside her, her brain completely malfunctions in a way she has never experienced before. You're just so talented.. and beautiful. No! She just really, really, really admires you. It's not an actual crush..! Right?

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 Caitlyn had never really experienced romantic feelings for someone before, she has been so focused on her goals and proving herself she never had the time to. Of course, there was many people offering their hand for her but it was always met with a firm but polite 'no.'

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 She hated all the male suitors her parents tried to coerce her into meeting at least, to see if it's a match. To please her parents she would but every single one was awful. They saw her only as an object, a pretty thing to marry and show off as a trophy. A tool for power, not in the least caring for her dreams and aspirations.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 But you, you were so different. You were kind and actually cared for her opinions even if she tended to push the boundaries of her actual duties. You never gave up on her even when it felt like the world did.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 Welp, she couldn't deny it anymore, she in fact had a big fat crush on you. What to do next? Oh, pretend everything is normal and hopefully it goes away.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 But it doesn't. In fact it gets even worse the more she tries to conceal it. Stumbling over words like a blabbering fool as you attempt to talk to her, her co-workers laugh at her making her even more flushed!

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 It wasn't until one day her obsession with you truly began. It was one of Jinx's ambushes again and there were explosions, it wasn't good. It was very bad. Most of her peers had died unexpectedly, not even getting a chance to fight back. Caitlyn herself got injured but all she could think about was you.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 It took about an hour of searching the premises before she finally found you, stuck and unconscious under a pile of rubble. You looked bad, it struck a fear in Caitlyn, seeing you like that, she never wished to feel it again. She carried you herself to get some help despite limping and bleeding from her own wounds.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 Luckily you got help in immediate time and you came to in a hospital bed, Caitlyn herself passed out in a chair beside you with her head in your lap. You could see the dark bags under her eyes, you figured she must've not been getting enough sleep. Has she been with you the entire time you've been out of commission?

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 During your healing process which would be a long while, Caitlyn took a rare deprive from her work, also recovering her lesser injuries. She spent most of her time beside you, making sure you ate, bringing you things to keep you entertained like books, helping you stand to the bathroom for goodness sake. It still couldn't keep her entirely out of her work though, in fact it made her even more determined to find this 'Jinx' and get justice for you and her friends, of course. She was almost obsessed with the case and capturing Jinx, and it all stemmed from her growing protection over you.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 Caitlyn struggled to sleep, having nightmares of the explosion and you, your bloody body now mangled and unrealistically morphed into something terrifying. She'd wake up in fright, only to find herself sleeping on your lap with you sleeping sound. She'd brush back your hair, vowing to never let you get hurt like that again.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 All of this came to a climax when you were finally well enough to be released from the hospital. You were a bit rusty but you were antsy to get back to work, you felt so useless being trapped in a hospital bed.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 Caitlyn, however, was not ready for you to leave and go back to action. You were still so weak, what if something happens and you aren't able to react quickly enough? What if you die?

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 Cait could not stand for it and so she pleaded for you to reconsider, just a month or a week more! But you were adamant about heading back, no matter what Caitlyn said. So she gave in but she was not going to let you get hurt under her watch.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 She was like a shadow you could never get rid of. Always hovering around you and staring at you with those crystal blue eyes warily, waiting almost so she can step in and help you. Even if you were put in different groups, she'd stray just so she can make sure you're okay. Need some water? Oh, careful there's a rock there! Are you okay? Be careful. Be careful. Be careful.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 You could not handle it anymore, it felt not only suffocating but demeaning with the way she treated and looked at you as though you were glass.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 You snapped, yelling at her to leave you alone and that you're an adult, you are capable of defending yourself. After snapping you felt a bit guilty seeing her face. She looked completely shocked and almost like a kicked over puppy, those big blue eyes looking sad now. Caitlyn could only watch in silence as you walked away from her, trying to calm down. And for once, she did not follow.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 A couple days passed with no progress on the Jinx case and it seemed that Cait had finally gotten the hint and left you alone. You felt almost bad, when you were near she'd glance at you and quickly look away as if hurt. You didn't want to stop being friends, just that it was getting to a point of controlling behavior.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 You took it upon yourself to visit the Kiramman household, wanting to apologize and become friends again. You did miss her, you both had especially gotten close after spending so much time healing. Perhaps that is why it hurt so much that she didn't trust you.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 Caitlyn looked shocked when you showed up on her doorstep but let you in nonetheless, pretending everything was normal. She offered you tea and you agreed.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 Sitting both down, you finally let it out that you reacted too harshly that day and that you wanted to continue being friends. That you missed her.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 Taking a deep exhale after saying all of that, you waited for her reaction. Cait was serene and hard to read, not responding right away instead taking her teacup and sipping on her tea.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 "Please have some of your tea, it is imported from Ionia."

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 You stare at her a bit, is that all she had to say? Not even an acknowledgement or, hell, even a refusal to forgive you? You sigh and drink the tea anyways and she begins to actually speak.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁"You see, over the last couple of days, no, months that I have been by your side whilst you heal has made me have a realization." She glances up at you from her tea.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 "I love you." All thoughts disappear from your head the moment those words are uttered, so calmly as well. "And when you love something, you protect it. Your outburst at me the other day made me truly realize this, what you're doing to yourself- it's a cry for help. You are not fit to be an enforcer, it is too dangerous and with Jinx still out there.. I am afraid I can't let you leave again." Wait, what?

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 Just as she finishes speaking your vision begins to spin. You start seeing two Caitlyn's instead of one, the teacup in your hands wobbles and breaks in shards on the ground. Caitlyn tuts and stands up, grabbing your shoulders gently and laying you back down onto the couch before you could fall.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 "There we go. I'm sorry it had to be this way but don't worry, I will find Jinx and make her pay for doing this to you. Just rest, my dear."

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 Even then, Caitlyn stays by your side while gently caressing your cheek. Your vision fades and you fall asleep.

a/n: guys.. i may have went a bit overboard with writing this but it was more fun that i had thought! i hope i did yan caitlyn justice! <3 also this is kind of foreshadowing a little bit of s2 cait?? but in a alternative universe. also see how caitlyn's suitors just thought of her as an object and now she is doing the same thing to reader unintentionally.. parallels!!

[darkdevasofdestruction]

My Innocent Snowdrop ~ Oberyn Martell x Stark!Reader

Summary: The eldest Stark girl is forced to marry Oberyn Martell as a political alliance made by Cersei, but what she does not know is that the Prince of Dorne is a very loving man who easily falls in love with her and cherishes her deeply.

The wolves never strayed away from the North - Y/N told herself, staring up at the head of her father, rotting on that wretched pike. He should have rejected the spot as the Hand of the King - Look where it got him and all the men that came with them. Septa Mordane’s head was also there, staring up at the Sun... And poor Jayne Poole, being imprisoned and... Lord knows what is being done to her.

Lady was dead, Nymeria and Meria, Y/N’s direwolf, were long since away from their premises. All the Stark wolves were very much dispersed all over Westeros, with Sansa and Y/N the only unfortunate souls licking each other’s wounds in King’s Landing.

Y/N would think hard, if there was any good memory she had of this forsaken place. Perhaps the time that she saw Arya being taught how to ‘dance’ by the master. The castle, the courtyard... Maybe everything except for the flower gardens was completely awful - Just like the stench of Flea’s Bottom. A good memory would be when she cheered for Sandor Clegane during the journey for Prince Joffrey’s name day... While he was still Prince, at least. He was such a good man, despite that rough exterior he puts out - Though Sansa was afraid to even look at him, Y/N always felt safe around him. Ironically, the same could be said about Tyrion, the Lannister dwarf with that silver tongue and cheek to match him. She could could count on her fingers the amount of times he had saved her and Sansa from danger - And she wouldn’t have enough hands.

She missed the North so much. That harsh cold was soothing, and the whipping wind was a caress. She wanted to hear the lullaby of the forest and the beauty of the fauna and flora around. She wanted to feel the fluffy snow under her feet again, and see her North lights with her old friend, the bastard of Dreadfort. She was glad that her parents had no idea she would meet up with Ramsay Snow every fortnight, in the Wolf’s Woods - He might have been the craziest psychopath, she thought, but she hadn’t felt more alive than when they were running with their canine companions through the frozen forests.

“Alys, do you think we will ever see home again?” Alys Manderly was Y/N’s best friend since early childhood, they have been inseparable, just like Sansa and Jeyne. They were closer than sisters - She would call them soul-sisters, or something. She remembers Theon one time telling them to marry twins, so they would never be torn apart. For a while, they actually pondered that idea. “I hope so, Y/N. I hope so.” the dark haired girl hugged her friend dearly.

But perhaps there was room for celebration - King Joffrey’s name day approached again, and a another tourney would take place. Though Y/N encouraged Sandor to participate, he merely barked at her - One win was enough for the old dog.

This time, the festivity was even greater than before. There were many houses that wouldn’t join anymore, being at war with either Stannis or Renly - But at the same time, there were a few houses from down South that were going to arrive in grand maniere. Royal, noble houses from Dorne.

“Y/N, you are so beautiful!” Alys complimented her friend, who looked down bashfully and shook her head.  “Please do not jest so. You are far more beautiful.” Y/N went to fix her friend’s hair, before they went to the the stands. Sansa was to stay next to Joffrey and the other Lannisters, unfortunately for her, but the two friends were glued to the rails of the stands. They saw many a great knights - Until Alys gasped, and blushed powerfully.  “Y/N, look - That is the Prince of Dorne! Isn’t he so beautiful?!” Alys’s voice was chirped with glee - And the Prince proudly strutted by them - And then he stopped, right in front of them, with a beautiful deep pink rose into his hand, and grinning charmingly as every lady was cheering and chanting his name. Y/N didn’t dare, but Alys was almost bent over the railing, wanting to get closer to the man. “A beautiful flower for a beautiful lady.” the man said, and though Alys melted, his arm went directly past her, and in front of the Stark girl, whose eyes were wide. Her hands trembled, unable to reach out for the flower - And the man approached her, ripping the stem and putting the flower in her hair. “Much better.” his smile was so gentle and sweet, Y/N thought she would die on the spot. Instead, she reached out to the ribbon in her hair and tied it around his palm. “I pray that you will win, My Lord.” the Prince’s smile widened, and Y/N could swear that he, in that golden outfit of his, was radiating brighter than the morning Sun. “For you, I will. sweet rose.” with a wink, the Lord trotted away to end the grand finale of the tournament. “You’re SO lucky, Y/N! Prince Oberyn himself chose you!” Alys shook Y/N’s whole body, and the girl couldn’t help but let out a weak, amused exhale. “Calm yourself, Alys. It is just a flower, nothing more. He will not even remember that I exist.” the girl smiled gently at her friend, reassuring her - But she had missed the envious look in her eyes.

Just as he had promised, the Red Viper of Dorne had won the tourney - And for the remainder of the day, the Dornish retinue drank and cheered and sang songs - And many more other things that were only for adults to speak of. Y/n smiled, watching Oberyn kissing the woman she found out was named Ellaria Sand, the Prince’s paramour. She was a tall and slender lady, with sun-kissed skin, black hair like ebony, and dark, warm, kind eyes. They seemed to be very happy - And so was Y/N. A happy couple always made Y/N happy as well - It meant that there was still hope for people out there, even if she, herself, couldn’t see it.

Alys was more of a party person, whilst Y/N wanted nothing more than to run away and hide in her room, now that she knew Sansa was safe in her room, and people were actually enjoying the feast - But Alys was insistent, and she dragged her friend forcefully to the Dornish table, pushing away some of the drunker men so that her and her friend could sit down and pretend they belong there.

Lady Ellaria gave them a weird look, while the Prince seemed to be smirking in amusement - Not only for the evident desperation of the Manderly girl, but the way the Stark girl was hiding her face with her hands. “Alys - That was rude!” Y/N whisper-yelled at her friend, who outright stared at the Prince with starry eyes. “Let us return to our chambers, Alys - It is far too late for us to be out.” but Y/N’s pleas were in vain. “It is not every day that you get to meet a Prince, Y/N! Lighten up, it’s a party!”  the comment made not only Y/N, but the two lovers look at her perplex. “You... Do realise that... You are in King’s Landing. And you have met two Kings, a Queen, a prince and a princess... Right? And you see them every day.” the timid lady pointed out, shocked about her friend’s absolute moment of dumbness. “Well - Yes, I know - But none of them are so exotically beautiful, are they? The Prince’s skin is sun-kissed, and that smile was painted by the Gods.” hearing these affirmations made Y/N’s head spin in vertigo. Her eyes were cast down in shame, and her cheeks were pinker than the flower in her hair. “What an interesting pair we have before us, my love. An innocent and timid little snowdrop, accompanied by a bold and fierce rose. How intriguing.” the Prince was now focused on the two new-comers, though his arms were still snaked around his lover’s waist. “We are undeserving of such compliments, Your Grace.” Y/N spoke softly - Oberyn was so used to all the strong-willed and strong women of Dorne, that he completely forgot that shy little fawns like her existed. Shy, and very much traumatised, by the looks of it. His heart was almost swelling with dear, just looking at the girl. “Don’t be rude, Y/N - The Prince is giving us compliments, you have to accept them.” Alys grunted at her friend, before turning at the Martell Prince, batting her eyelashes dearly.  “I, uh... I just think that Her Grace is far more beautiful than I am.” her voice was like that of a little mouse - It amused the woman, but also, made her feel protective of her.  “Ellaria Sand is my name, little one. I am no noble, just a bastard of Dorne.” the woman smiled kindly at her. “Noble or not, it does not take away from your beauty.” Y/N retorted quickly - Ellaria and Oberyn shared a look, before looking back at them with mischievous smirks. “What are your names, sweet flowers?” the woman asked them. “I am Alys Manderly - And this is Y/N Stark. It is a pleasure meeting you.” though Alys looked at the Prince with lust in her eyes, but she did not once look at Ellaria.  “Beautiful names, just like the ladies having them.” Oberyn nodded. “Then, would the ladies wish to share our chambers tonight?” Y/N almost fell backwards off the bench from complete shock and fright. “A-Ah, n-n-no... W-We, uh... W-We were just, uhhh, retiring for the night! Yes -- G-Goodnight, Your Grace. My Lady.” Y/N shot up to her feet as if electrified, and though she jumped to the other side of the bench, her wrist was caught by Alys, and she was roughly pulled back on the seat. “Don’t be such a bore, Y/N! Let’s have some fun~! Lord knows, we need some distraction after everything the Crown put us through!” Alys’s mouth got slapped by the Stark girl, as she was given a warning look. Y/N was looking around for unexpected onlookers and eavesdroppers, like a skittery bunny during a hunt. “Watch your mouth, Alys. You do not know who is listening in. If you are not careful, your head will end up on a spike, next to my father’s.” Y/N had seen enough for a life time. The last thing she needed was to see her best friend being killed. There was only so many family members she could see dead, before she’d lose her mind. “Come on, Y/N, loosen up a bit!” but Y/N snatched her hand away, and rose to her feet, looking down at her friend with a simple look.  “I will be seeing you tomorrow at breakfast, Alys. Sweet dreams.” Y/N spoke curtly. “May you have sweet dreams also, Prince Oberyn. Lady Ellaria.” with a quick courtesy, the terrified beauty went rushing back to the castle and hid herself in the safety of her own room.

Although, safety was a great word - Only she knew the amount of times she had escaped assassination attempts. She hated sleeping alone - Anything could happen at night, when you are sleeping - Alas, she could not share a bed with anyone, even her own sister. The rules of King’s Landing were unnecessarily strict and harsh. She wanted home already.

The next morning was unusually quiet and relaxing. The weather was fine, the Sun was warm and the breeze just right. Somehow, during this beautiful morning, even the royal stench wasn’t as awful on the senses as usual. Y/N decided to have a plate of fruit tarts and find her peace in the flower garden, alone from everyone else. It was her hiding place - A little silly, she knew, but sitting down on the soft green grass and gazing at the myriad of colourful flowers was the only thing that made Y/N smile.

“My Lady has such a beautiful smile. You put the flowers around to shame.” Y/N found herself squeaking in shock - She had been found! What a shame. She had attempted to raise to her feet and made a little courtesy, but the Prince’s hand on her shoulder stopped her - Instead, he had opted for sitting on the ground next to her, and with a leisure smile, he snatched the tart plateau and popped a small strawberry tart into his mouth. “Not bad for something done in this place.” he tilted his head to the side comically. “Your Grace --” the girl began to speak to him, but was cut off by the man, saying his name instead. “I-I dare not.” “I insist, My Lady.” his brown eyes were so warm and welcoming, like a loving embrace.  “I dare not address the Prince so colloquially.” she spoke. “I am just a girl from the North.” “Your father was the Warden of the North. Your brother is the King in the North. You cannot tell me you are ‘just’ a girl.” he watched her shamefully hanging her head. “I have no achievement of significance of mine own. My sister Sansa is the beautiful one. She can embroider and seam like no other, and she sings the prettiest songs. My other sister, Arya, is a fantastic archer, and she learnt how to swordfight from a braavosi water dancer. Mother is the beauty of the Riverlands. Robb is the King in the North. Bran is... Well, was...The most capable climber... Before he got crippled... By the bad men... And Rickon is just a babe of three.” she spoke softly, yet the love and pride in her voice when addressing her family was evident. “And there, here I am. Y/N, the firstborn child of Eddard Stark and Catelyn Tully. The family’s disappointment - Though they would never admit to it.” she let out a self-deprecating exhale. “Your Grace is kind, but there is no need to waste your precious time with the likes of me.” “I beg to differ, young lady.” Oberyn frowned for a second. “There are not many who can catch my eyes, yet you certainly did. You are underplaying your self - I wonder why. Gorgeous - You are, beyond words. And your voice is sweet as a nightingale. I’d say you are just overly modest. Is it how they teach you in this place?” he ask, reaching his hand to her hair and absent-mindedly playing with a strand of her long, luscious red hair that shone auburn like the red rose of love and passion. “I have long since heard that the people of Dorne are the happiest. That they are free, and life-loving, and very confident. I can only guess this may come as a huge surprise for you. Although... You have also seen my sister-friend Alys, and she is the complete opposite of me.” the man hummed, hearing of the other girl’s name. “Ah, yes, that one. Rather impolite and a little arrogant, after you left. The Dornish may be lax and permissive, but we still do take into high regards our courtesies.” he seemed completely unbothered, but the girl’s heart froze. “O-Oh, my -- Please forgive her , Your Grace. She has been through a lot since we have come to this place... She - She thought she could find some comfort in the arms of a temporary lover. She meant no harm or disrespect.” although Y/N apologised profusely in the girl’s stead, only to see the Prince wave his hand dismissively, as if it was nothing. “You are far too naive and innocent for your age, little one. And the look in those beautiful eyes of yours makes me realise that you are already aware of that.” his finger reached underneath his chin, raising it up just a little bit. “Forgive my language, Your Grace, but I think the right word you are searching for is much harsher and down to earth. I am an outright simple idiot.” her delicate hand was placed over his, so she could move his hand away from her face. “That will not do.” he shook his head. “I found it rather amusing that you hate this place, and its people, almost as much as I do.” his smile was perked up again, especially amused once he saw the terrified look in her place. “Fret not, sweetling - All of Dorne feels the same. I have no reason to speak out your feelings in your stead. I respect you and your boundaries - Forgive me for teasing you. I find great pleasure watching your face turn the colour of your hair.” the girl could say nothing more, but she hung her head in defeat, hoping to hide her bashfulness with her long locks. “I am undeserving of your compliments, Your Grace - Though, I am grateful for your discretion.” her sweet voice made the man want to snatch her into his arms and plant kisses all over that snow-white skin of hers. People of the North truly were so pale - Almost sickly pale. Would she end up sun-burnt often, should she end up travelling in Dorne one day? That supple neck looked and her uncovered cleavage were so inviting - How was he to resist? The birds have started to chirp a pretty song, and Y/N found herself caring naught for her worries, and she closed her eyes and inched her face up to the sky, bathing in the caressing love of late Spring. “Does this bring you joy?” the man asked, and he saw her head nodding lightly. “It is one of the very few things that I can still appreciate without being punished for. It is not much, but these few moments of bliss are enough to make me forget for a while of the woes of life spent in the capital.” she sounded more at peace now, as if she wasn’t as guarded around him. Surely, the mutual hatred of this place and the Crown must have made her feel at ease. With a soft smile, Oberyn put his hands on her shoulders, and pushed her down on the grass. “How about now?” he asked, gesturing for her to close your eyes. “I... Feel a bit... Uneasy.” she admitted, embarrassed. “Are you afraid?” she let out a small, affirmative answer. “I will protect you, so fear not.” though a bit skeptical, Y/N closed her eyes again, and rested the back of her head on her palms, and she took a deep breath. For once, she forced herself to keep a clean, empty mind, and to relax. If the Prince of Dorne said he would stay on lookout, he would. Though, perhaps that was a weird way of saying that he protected her. Oberyn was laying on his side, next to her, and he was gazing at the beautiful lady as he stroked her velvety hair. Apart from her mother, she had never, once, felt anyone taking care of her so dearly. She loved this feeling so much that she was afraid she would get used to it, and by the time the man leaves for back home, she will feel all alone. She couldn’t afford to get complacent.

The Prince, however, thought of last night - He wanted to tell her that he did not believe Alys was a good influence on her, but why would she believe a complete stranger, over her sister-friend? Would she believe the suspicions of a seasoned man, over the pleading eyes of her faux friend?  Ellaria, too, was reticent, when she looked at the Manderly girl - She could smell the venom dripping from her tongue - The complete anti thesis from the innocent girl who seemed to fight so hard to remain good to the word. Was it to keep hope for her friend? Or was it that she wanted to believe humanity was not yet lost to her?

The party from Dorne had remained guest to King’s Landing for the whole week - Time in which Oberyn tried to get closer to the sweet dove, but could not, because she was always taken away by some one. Though irritating, it was to be expected. What a pity.

Or so he thought - For the Lannister Lioness herself came up with rather the interesting proposal - Claim an even more solidified alliance, through the knot of marriage between the Prince of Dorne and the firstborn daughter of the greatest House of the North. The Seven Kingdoms had to be kept tightly knit together, after all. Were it anyone else, Oberyn would have laughed in Cersei’s face, thinking she sent some lackey of hers to spy on him. Even if Y/N was forced to be a spy, he knew he could persuade her not to be afraid of the Queen Regent and her fearsome claws. For so many years, he had been opposed to marrying - He was very fine with his loving paramour and his children. He needn’t anything else. And even better, he needn’t have the wedding in this stinking city, for he could have it at his own, glorious home, in Sunspear. It was perfect.  The Queen had no idea how stupid she was. Or perhaps she wanted to get rid of the elder Stark sister, and claim monopole over the younger one in her entirety? Possible, as well. Only Lions knew how many lions they could tell, in a single minute.

Once Y/N heard the knew of her leaving with the retinue all the way down South, she felt faint - It was hard enough to get used to the climate and people of the Reach, let alone the deserts and scorching heat of Dorne? And the... Very friendly people as well. She had the tiniest glimpse of that whenever Oberyn passed by her, and would reach out to cup her face or quickly caress a lock of her hair. But Y/N was lucky she had not seen the dark look in Alys’s eyes - The Prince had seen it, and he did not like it. It would be fine though - She will be leagues away from Y/N, so there was no way of bringing her harm, or to his family by being a Lannister lackey.

Y/N felt absolutely terrified of Ellaria for a quick second - She felt like an intruder in their loving relationship. Like a homewrecker. She felt like she outright destroyed the peace and harmony of the whole country of Dorne. Or perhaps, she was simply fatalistic by nature - She wasn’t yet sure. But Ellaria was the sweetest woman in the world, and she hugged her dearly to her chest and kissed the top of her head. “Sweet little flower, worrying so much over nothing. It should be yourself you should be worrying about. Being traded off like an object of political means. You needn’t apologise to me. I pity you - But fret not. Oberyn is a good man. He will take good care of you. And so will I.” she remembers tearing up and hugging the woman tighter, thanking her over and over again for being so understanding and benevolent.

The wedding was not to be properly planned until a few months to come, under the pretext that the young girl has to get used to her new environment - To truly become part of the family. Simply put, it was Oberyn’s way of keeping the pressure off the girl.

Some of his daughters seemed interesting in the new girl, while some cared little or even less about her existence. Just another woman in his life, they said. How long she would last, it was only a matter of time.

The Prince made sure to keep her at the lust Water Gardens, where the palace was cool, and she could indulge in the warm waters of the numerous pools - Maybe play around with the children of the common folk, if he felt uncomfortable with the adults. The outfits, also, were completely different from what she used to where, even in King’s Landing, where the weather was mild. Now, she was given the most luxurious silks and linens, some more sheer or revealing than the others - She felt far too outrageous to leave her room like that, so she kept with the more modest clothes, that would hide her silhouette better.

Most of the time, however, she would spend her time in her room, doing various activities, be that reading Dornish books, or practicing over and over again strategies for the card game that Oberyn had thought her. She wanted to be a worthy opponent for the man - She had to live up to the expectations of a Prince, after all. Or, at least as close as she can get. Sometimes, she would embroider some of her dresses, and even some of the tunics that the Prince may or may not have intentionally taken over to her room. He had even taught her how to paint, and brought her all kinds of paints and paper, and though it wasn’t perfect, she had a particular fondness and skill in painting the flowers she would see in the gardens.

Once in a while, she would write letters - All addressed to King’s Landing. Of course, out of respect, she had Oberyn read and approve of them. She had written her sweet sister, to make sure she is okay, and she wrote to Sandor, her most unlikely friend, to see how he fared.  But the most beautiful envelope was directed to Alys. It was of rose gold colour, and inside, she had pressed various flower petals, and sprayed perfume on the letter - Which was written in cursive ink - But she had not sealed it yet. This one, especially, she would seal with a flower instead, so Alys would know who it was from, without a name being addressed.

The two sister-friends would shower each other in compliments and confessions of how much they missed each other, and would speak about the happenings of the countries they were in, or interesting rumours and gossips - Here and there, a little tricket would also be brought.

“This letter seems particularly tender, compared to the others.” Oberyn hummed, pacing around the room, pondering. “It is her birthday. In fact, it is the first birthday we spend apart. It must be hard for her, all alone in that lion pit. Who knows how Joffrey is torturing her.” she spoke lightly - Though she was still shy around the man, he cherished him deeply. Not once, did he try to pressure her - Instead, he was always gentle with her, and would never raise his voice around her, or speak foul.  “Do you love women, Y/N?” he asked in the most casual tone possible. “If yes, I can have any woman of your liking brought over for you.” it only made her cheeks flare up. “N-No, nothing like that!” she denied immediately. “You needn’t be cautious with me, sweetling. Men loving men, women loving women - People loving people - It matters little, as long as the love is genuine. You can tell me. I want to know the preferences of my lovely wife.” he always knew how to make her mind spin around. “No, Oberyn - Really, it is just a letter sent in good faith, on her name’s day. This is how we used to talk, even back in the North. My sister Sansa with her friend Jeyne were the same.” the girl explained, only to stop for a moment, as the man gazed at her as if she was the most innocent thing in the world. “Does it... Sound weird?” “I think it is sweet that you can express your love this way, my dear. I just fear what would happen if any of those stuck-up idiots would get the letter instead, and accuse either of you of... Unspeakable rule breakings, in the name of the Gods... Or something ridiculous like that.” he turned to look back at Ellaria, who was leaning on the door frame. “Will I be the recipient of these sweet words one day, little flower?” “Darling - Don’t tease her like that.” Ellaria sighed, rolling her eyes and snatching the letter from his hand. She scanned it quickly with her eyes, before she let out an exhale once more, and she shook her head. “Oh, sweetling... The world is not yet ready for such a mellow heart.” the look of distraught on her face made her reconsider, however. “Although... If you keep the letter anonymous, they should have no way of tracing it. Have you used different birds like we told you too?” the girl nodded. “Then, I suppose it should be fine. But be careful who you rely on.” the woman couldn’t tell her about her suspicions she had of her so-called best friend. How could she, when Y/N looked most alive, speaking of her dear friend? “Of course! Alys wouldn’t do me any evil. We have grown up together, closer than sisters. We always covered for and took care of each other!” she exclaimed, with new-found vitality in her eyes. “I will have this sent, then. Darling, why don’t you go with Y/N to the pools? It’s evening already, they should be warmest at this hour, and mostly empty.” with a sultry smile, the woman left the chamber, leaving the two alone. The Prince stepped in front of his betrothed, and bent slightly at the waist, extending his hand for her to take. “Will you join me by the pools, sweetling?” he rejoiced in the blush that graced her features, and the delicate feeling of her hand feathering his own. She had remained quiet, feeling bashful enough as it was, walking hand in hand like that with the Prince of Dorne - But thankfully, the guards were nowhere to be seen, and they were as alone as they can be. Private and intimate, and very much away from the eyes of the onlookers. 

She listened dearly to the proud and loving way in which he spoke of the Gardens, and their history, who created them and why. The loud and harmonious song of the crickets and the toads, even the rattles of the snakes. It was peaceful. The breeze was warm, and the sky was filled with thousands of colours, ranging from yellow, red, orange and pink, but purple and indigo as well - And many other hues in between. She had never been able to sit back and admire the sky like this in a while - Especially not since she’s been sent to the hell that the Red Keep is. When the day met with the night, and the stars were shyly peeking and twinkling, thought it wasn’t yet as dark as midnight - It was a breath-taking sight.

She was so lost in the sight that she didn’t realise the way the man besides her looked at her. He was gazing at her as if she was his most beloved person in the world. It was true, he held a deep love for Ellaria, and had fathered several children together - But he had never even thought about marrying her. Between the parties and the debauchery, the fun, the many men and women that shared his bed, and the amount of travels he partook in... But now, there she stood, before him, someone so completely different than anyone he’s ever met before. Different from all the treacherous people, the liars, the flatterers, the manipulators and what not.

She was so good of heart and innocent - As if she was living in a completely different world than his own. A world of complete peace and harmony, where people can do no wrong, and everyone is trustworthy and reliable. It only made him even more desperate to keep her safe from the cruel world. He wanted to keep her in this oasis, and keep the mirage of goodness for her to keep believing in. Little by little, she will find herself not only comfortable in her new home, but with them as well. With him, most specially, as he wanted her so badly.

Suddenly, a mischievous smirk played on his lips - He was so enchanted by her, that he couldn’t help himself. He threw his arms around her body and jumped into the warm water of the shallow pools. The little squeak of surprise, as she met with the water surface, made his heart beat faster. He stared down at her adorable expression, at her wet hair and the incredibly attractive way the light material of her dress revealed the shape of her body as it stuck to it so tantalizingly sweet. There was only so much the Prince could refrain himself, after the few weeks since she’s been brought to his country. His hands cupped her cheeks, and he leaned in to kiss those soft and pink flower petals of her lips. The few seconds of surprise in which she felt her body and mind frozen, completely dissipated, and Oberyn could feel her melting into the kiss. For just a moment, he let go to gaze at her awestruck look, before one of his arms snaked around her middle, holding her dearly, whilst his other hand was buried into her hair. He felt like being breathed into him - It was unlike anything he’s ever felt before. Passion and fire from Ellaria especially, but now, his heart was beating alive, and he felt tender and mellow. 

At some point, he was even afraid of getting greedy - Not only did he not want to scare his sweet little fawn away, but he also was afraid of how drunk he would get if he went even further, indulging in those lips of hers, and the smell of her flower perfume... That was how she deserved to smell - The stench of King’s Landing was finally washed off for good. He was never going to let her go back to that awful place. He hated it as much as she did. Were it not for the situation of the captive sister, or that devious bitch who calls claims to be her friend, then she wouldn’t have any further worry about that disgusting city.

Now, even more than before, he would come over to her chambers and would bring her new jewellery, all of them shining gold like the Sun, with precious stones of every kind and colours, and he would steal long and tender kisses from her. If he were gifting her a necklace, he would put it around her neck from behind, admiring how it embellished her flawless snow-white cleavage, and would embrace her from behind, leaning down to tickle her with soft neck kisses - She would always giggle from those. If there were rings, he would kneel in front of her and slid them on, before kissing each of her knuckles, the back of her hand, and then he would lean his face into her touch and kiss the inside of her wrist - She would get so bashful that she would get on the ground next to him and hug him tightly to her chest, whispering the sweetest confessions of love and care. And if he were to bring he any kind of hair accessory, be it a flower crown or pearls, a golden gem tiara, or a sheer veil filled with diamonds and zircons that would make her hair shine even more, then he would ask to brush her hair and he would fix the accessory in her hair himself, then tilt her head to kiss her forehead - She would put her hand over his, and cheekily bring his hand for her to kiss.

What he wouldn’t do to keep her away from all the horrors that waited them across the borders...

During the day, the two would play the newest card and dice game that was trending all around the young people - It became a trend, as she called it - And he had to admit, it was a nice game that combined strategy and luck rather beautifully. But better than that, he loved how she would make such adorable expressions when she would lose. He didn’t even imagine there could exist one with such awful luck, but she proved him wrong, times and times again, when out of 10 dices, none of them would depict the element she needed... For multiple rounds... For multiple games.

But he knew just how to make her forget about her lost games, by either going horse riding, or for a walk by the beach - Maybe even a little swim, if they so wished to. At evening, she would sneak by the shore and dance - But it wasn’t just any type of dancing, Oberyn realised - But spear dancing. After he showed off to her multiple times when training, it seemed to have inspired the little flower to practice herself. She was fast and agile, but more than anything, she was so graceful and elegant, with her flowing skirts spinning around her slender form, and her long hair flying with every move. More than anything, however, she was having fun. Never had he seen her grinning so widely and having fun with all her heart. She looked free - As free as a bird, allowed to sing at will and fly at win - Allowed to do anything without anything restricting her in any way. She had some difficulty with the weight of the weapon, but twirling around made it feel less than a feather. And her voice - The way she would hum whatever melody she was thinking of - Some familiar to the Prince, while some, completely foreign - Oberyn felt himself completely relaxing whilst he leaned on a tree and admiring her from afar.

Then, came the night, the most honeyed part of the day. The time when he either spends the most passionate hours in the flames of excitement with Ellaria, and perhaps even other participants - Or he stays in Y/N’s room, with her cuddled into his side as he strokes her hair and he reads her a book. She was sleeping so peacefully in his embrace that he could never bring himself to return to his own chambers. It was always wonderful, waking up to such a lovely woman by his side, especially when she’d snuggle even closer to him while asleep, like a little kitten.

Though she was still very much worried about her family scattered all over the Seven Kingdoms, and the on-going war with the Crown, she at least had found the closest thing to a feeling of peace and belonging, here, in Dorne, soon to be married to Oberyn, and good friend with Ellaria, his paramour. Getting even closer to the man, the two agreed to finally plan the wedding, and everything was as great as it could get. Y/N was happy and felt at home, and Oberyn was glad that his soon to be wife was had finally found a family in him, but also Ellaria, his many daughters, and all the citizens of Sunspear.

But in Westeros there can never be a moment of respiro, and much to his dread and anger, there was a letter he received - It was for Y/N, not for him, but she had long since agreed that he should read any letter she writes or receives, for safety purposes. She hated that she was still far too naive when it came to the harsh political affairs between the more powerful houses, so she was fine with someone who could handle this better to take care of these trivial things.

He had called his paramour to read this as well - He knew the Lannisters were the scum of the earth, but to think they would find something as ridiculous and innocent as Y/N’s friendship with Alys, just to bring them pain and exploit the Stark name... It was cruel, and the Prince was getting very quickly fed up with the lions. He had not forgotten, nor forgiven, the way they treated his dear sister, Elia, and her two children. He sure as hell won’t be lenient now. He needed his sweet revenge... Dorne needed the long awaited vengeance, and somehow, he shall have it. Especially on the perpetrator of all evils... The Mountain.

But how was he to tell Y/N about the contents of this letter, without alarming her, or making her feel guilty? In a way, he wondered if Alys was also a  conspirator to this ploy - Surely, she was, he thought. At first, he wanted to just throw the letter in the fire and ignore the matters from the Crown - But Ellaria had reminded him that Y/N’s own sister was helplessly caged in King’s Landing, and they could easily threaten to kill her, just as they did with their father.

That night, he had taken Y/N to bed with him, just like many other nights. Usually, he would be reading her a story, or tell her of some of his weirder adventures from his long travels - Or, on particularly sleepless nights, she would tell him about home and her interactions with her family, and how unique all of them were. This night, especially, as soon as he stepped inside her room, he saw her in one of those sheer, light pink night gowns - It was a pretty warm night, even this late - And she was at the table, painting. She was gracing a serene, happy smile on her face. As soon as she turned her head to look at her visitor, her smile widened even more, and her eyes lit up. “Ryn!” she called out his new nickname breathlessly, throwing the paint brush into the water glass and wiping her coloured hands. “What a coincidence, I was thinking of you!” she had become so much bolder and more honest with her feelings, it was very endearing. “I made this for you! I saw you liked the desert roses the most whenever we’d go through the garden - Thought I’d make something for you to hang on the wall in your room, if you like it.” quickly fanning the painting to dry faster, Oberyn went next to the table, admiring her creation. “I’m surprised, lovely, Y/N, you have become so good at this.” seeing as it had dried, he held up the long paper and admired it. “Just like the real flower - I’ll have someone hang it so I can see it every time I wake up. Thank you, sweet one.” he raised her chin slightly, before kissing her forehead.

He watched as she scurried to clean her hands properly, before taking a book and getting in bed, she motioned for him to come along faster. “I found this book that talks about the culture and history of many countries in Essos - And I have seen many a story about the Rhoynar, and the water mages and witches - I was so fascinated by it, and then I remembered, Nymeria was one of the Rhoynar, and most of the traditions from the Dorne of these days were brought by her and her people. Can you tell me more about it?” how could he ever decline a request from her, especially as she wanted to learn more about his own country? She was just so beautiful and lovely, he could not understand how could anyone wish her ill. “Of course I will, my sweet Snowdrop. Anything you wish for, I will do for you.” he sat on the bed and pulled her into a small kiss. “Before that, I have something to tell you.” he could see the anxiety form into her eyes, so he quickly brought her into an embrace, caressing her hair, reassuring her that she had nothing to fear. “We must leave for King’s Landing in three days.” Y/N looked up at him with confusion, yet he could also see the disgust she held for that place. “But... Why? I thought you said you hated that place.” “O, darling, trust me, I do. If it were after me, I would burn the whole capital to the ground, and all the people in it, beginning with the Lannisters.” he explained, and the girl nodded her head in approval - She would have done the same. “A letter had arrived from King’s Landing today, with the seal of the Crown.” the girl gulped in fright. “They had called for you to attend the trial of Alys Manderly, under the pretexts of adultery, seducing and indulging in... Unethical misconducts with at least a woman.” just like he had feared, the Queen had used their letters to accuse the Stark girl of indirectly going against the laws of the Faith of the Seven. “So... Alys is being sentenced for indulging with women... And their proof are our letters, yes?” the man nodded. “But I was in Dorne, and here it is not illegal. And they cannot prove anything from the time I was in the capital.” “If they want to, they can prove anything, with enough bribing. After all, they are not directly accusing you, but your friend, who is from a far less important family. Not to mention, if she is found guilty, by extension, so will you be, and by those stupid laws of the Church, they have every right to take you away and put you through very harsh conversion punishments, and maybe force you to renounce your family’s name and title and become a Septa, or join the Silent Sisters.” the gravity in the man’s voice made the girl feel as if her soul was sucked out from her body. “What does Cersei get out of this? If she wanted me dead, she could have done so when I was in the capital, not have me marry you, and be far away from her grasp, under your protection. Moreover, she couldn’t have known we would wait so much to legally marry. And if she wanted to threaten me, she has Sansa in her hands. Why go through all this trouble? I do not understand.” she asked, aggravated by all this mess. “The less Starks alive, the better. She did not want Sansa to marry Joffrey, but the King did, and because of that, she can’t change until someone better comes along - And there aren’t many families that can beat yours.” he explained. “Your brother is leading a rebellion, and you are allied with the region that is most likely to go against the Crown for vengeance. You could seduce me into joining your brother’s cause and take over Casterly Rock.” Y/N’s eyes went wide, and was about to protest, but got silenced by a kiss. “I know, I know, you would never do that. Surely, Alys would have told Cersei by now, and I, myself, know you would never even think of attempting something like that.” Y/N frowned and looked down, pondering and thinking deeply, and she sighed in utmost defeat. “I’m so sorry, Ryn. I shouldn’t have involved you in this. I was a stupid, naive little girl who hoped that, if I was away from them, they couldn’t lay their hand on me anymore.” her head was hung, and Oberyn could even see her eyes watering - She must have been feeling very angry and guilty. “I will go to King’s Landing by myself. You have enough on your shoulders anyway.” but the man scoffed and ruffled her hair. “Are you done speaking nonsense?” he asked, giving her a look. “I will not have my wife slandered, nor accused or prosecuted like that, especially not by that accursed family.” though he was serious, it didn’t seem to convince the girl. “I am not yet your wife, Ryn. You do not have to go that far for someone like me. I have only brought you problems since you have met me, and given you reasons for migraines. That is already far more than anyone would do for me... And I do not want to abuse your kindness.” she had tried to raise from the bed, but was pulled back by his strong hand. “You do not get it at all, do you? Or is that you do not want to understand?” he asked, putting Y/N on his lap. “It is you that I love.” Oberyn pulled the girl into a long and passionate kiss. “And I will have no one hurt the one I love.” he kept pulling her closer and closer with each kiss. The fire was suffocating her, but it also made her long for more. “I was unable to save Elia, but I will not allow those fuckers to lay their hand on you, my love.” Y/N was feeling her body and mind melting altogether in his embrace, and she was sure that, soon, she will transform into a puddle and slip between his fingers. “I am no saving Alys. I am saving you.” “Are you sure you want to go through all this troublesomeness, Ryn?” she managed to breath out, her brain almost blank, as his wet lips traced her neck veins. “I would go to the ends of the world for you, my darling. I would reach out and grab the Sun rays, to make you a shining crown, fitting for the Princess of Dorne.” the more his hands were roaming all over her skin, and underneath the sheer material of her night gown, the more she felt her blood scorching from within. “R-Ryn!” she gasped from embarrassment, the same way his compliments always overwhelmed her - In that instant, she felt herself being rolled on her back, and the only things she could see were his gorgeously chiseled visage, his sweet smile painted on those perfect lips of his, and those warm, loving dark eyes, that only ever looked at her with such deep emotion. “Hush, my love. Say no more. You are safe with me, so cease your worrying.”

Three days from then, the Dorne retinue had moved forwards towards the Capital of Westeros. Through the days, Oberyn looked seemingly unbothered, though both Y/N and Ellaria were on the edge, more or less, afraid for what was to come. No one willingly went inside the Lion’s den and thought they would get out unscathed. Still, the Martell Prince had no problem easing his two lovers, and comforting them - Even while inside the awful castle.

They had a good deal of food and wine to drink at the feast, but everyone new, the following morning at court, the Seven Hells would break loose. Y/N had told that night to both Oberyn and Ellaria about the many times she had to be held accountable at court, and how Joffrey had humiliated both her and her sister countless times. Also, she had told them how, despite Jeyne being Sansa’s best friend, she had a different treatment compared to Alys. Oberyn realised that even she suspected something was amiss, but did not stray away from wanting to save her.

This time, however, things were different. It was not inside the Castle’s court that they held the trial, but outside - Was it because of the fine weather? Or because it was far easier to have so many people outside, without too many voices echoing all at once and blending together? Y/N did not know, but she was extremely afraid. The young King was in the middle, on a large throne, and on either side of him were Cersei, and Sandor, Sansa and Tywin, and some other guards. Blasted thing, Y/N thought, Sansa was looking as awful as the day she had left her in this awful place.

“I have an awful feeling about this.” Y/N muttered, only to feel both Oberyn and Ellaria holding her hands. The Dorne envoy was somewhere up there, all on the same stand, watching  the trial unfolding, as Maester Pycelle was down, speaking of the sins committed, before Alys was dragged by two guards She looked ragged and tattered, and beaten up and starved. Y/N’s breath was hitched in her throat, and she immediately shot to her feet. Oberyn realised that any suspicion she ever had of Alys was destroyed by the mere visual of her abused childhood friend, and the pity and guilt she felt for putting her through it all, because of some minor indiscretion

“As we all know, we are gathered here to judge the actions of Lady Alys Manderly, and her unethical actions that go directly against the rightful laws dictated to us by the Sept of the Seven, ancient and brought to us so long ago, by the Andals.” Oberyn could see her small hands gripping the railing so tightly, and the way her chest was heaving up and down. “Septa Nadya has discovered letters written by Lady Alys addressed to Lady Y/N Stark, in which she confesses her love for the Lady, under the pretext of being childhood friends. She has abused the kindness of her Lady through the years and continued to endanger her by association. She has committed acts of manipulation and blackmail towards her liege Lady.” Y/N wanted to hit her head against the railing - Everything they were saying was almost word for word what Oberyn had warned her. “Septa Nadya has also caught Lady Y/N Stark sneaking out at night to go sleep at Lady Manderly’s chambers, which is improper behaviour for women of marrying age.” “What a load of bullshit.” Ellaria grimaced. “Girls are girls. Let them gossip the night away, for fuck’s sake.” it was obvious even she was pissed off by the ridiculous accusations. “Your Grace, these are the accusations against Lady Alys Manderly, and by default, Lady Y/N Stark, through association.” The Maester spoke clearly, despite his old age. “So this is a trial for two traitors of the Faith, not just one!” the King rose to his feet. “Lady Stark was in Dorne when these letters were sent. The laws of Dorne are different from the ones here, so she has nothing to do with these accusations.” Tyrion was the first to stand up for the girl. “Thank you, Tyrion.” Y/N muttered under her breath - the Prince rose an interested eyebrow - So the little wolf girl actually had some allies around the Crown, even if that ally was a dwarf Lion. “That does not take away from the sneaking around at night.” the King spat back. “Your Grace, Lady Stark had gone through many assassination attempts while staying here. I had personally escorted her to Lady Manderly’s chambers, so she would not feel afraid alone.” Sandor Clegane also spoke up for her.  “O, Sandor, you shouldn’t have.” Y/N gritted her teeth, suddenly afraid for a completely different friend - Whilst the Martell almost huffed in amusement - The Mountain was a ruthless piece of shit who mutilated, raped and abused to death his own sister and her children, but his younger brother was a good hearted loyal dog. How ironic. “That means all accusations against Lady Stark are null?” Cersei was the one to ask, and from the looks of it, Y/N was more or less safe.  For now. “Your Grace, what punishment do you find appropriate for Lady Alys Manderly?” the Grand Maester asked. “Any crime against the Faith is a great offense directly against the Crown as well. I say - Flog her to death!” murmurs and gasps were heard throughout the court - What was with that death sentence?! Over something as ridiculous as a girl telling her friend how much she cares for her. “YOUR GRACE, PLEASE -- I BEG OF YOU!! SPARE ME! HAVE MERCY! WE ARE JUST FRIENDS -- WE DID NOT REALISE HOW DIFFERENT THINGS WERE HERE, COMPARED TO BACK HOME, WHEN WE WERE CHILDREN! PLEASE, PLEASE, SPARE ME! SPARE ME!” Alys was on the ground, weeping and imploring the King to at least give a lighter sentence. Oberyn looked up, realising Y/N’s body was trembling, and her grip on the railing was even tighter. A single tear made its way down her face. King’s Landing truly was the city of sorrow. “GUARDS! UNFOLD THE PUNISHMENT HERE, BEFORE EVERYONE’S EYES - LET HER SERVE AS AN EXAMPLE FOR EVERYONE WHO DARES BETRAY THE CROWN AND THE FAITH!” Joffrey was smirking wickedly. Tywin looked seemingly unbothered, though he realised his own grandson was almost as mad as the Mad King himself, and he did not want another situation like that. Cersei, also, was annoyed that her own child was, once again, ruining her scheming by killing the people she was using. Tyrion was disgusted by his nephew’s behaviour, Sansa was too horrified to even watch, remembering Jeyne and seeing her instead of Alys down there... And Sandor... His eyes scanned for the Stark Girl, and upon seeing her, he felt pity. Only he knew how many times he saved her from the assassins and even those stupid guards like Meryn Trant. As the very same guard stepped forward with a large wooden rod, he readied himself before using all his force to strike the girl’s back. Her screams were shrill and raw, and with each him, Y/N was jolting as if she was the recipient of those aims.

“I DEMAND TRIAL BY COMBAT!” 

The whole court went quiet.

“I DEMAND TRIAL BY COMBAT!” the very same wavery voice shrieked out, her voice echoing loudly through everyone’s ears.  “Your King does not allow it!” Joffrey snarled at the woman. “No one has the authority to deny an ancient right like the trial by combat... Your Grace.” Y/N spat with disgust. She snatched her arms from both Oberyn and Ellaria and ran through the crowd, all the way down to the court, where she pushed Meryn Trant away from the girl. “Three days for now - I demand a fight to determine Alys Manderly’s fate. Choose your fighter, Your Grace.” each time she used the honorifics, she spat with mocking and disgust.  “You dare challenge me?!” the young King was getting angrier by the minute. “Your Grace, as the Stark Lady said, the trial by combat is irrefutable. Choose a fighter and we will prepare for the fight.” the Hand of the King, Lord Tywin Lannister, spoke up with a solemn grace. “Fine then. Ser Gregor - Step forward. Show Lady Stark and Lady Manderly that the authority of the Faith and of the Crown are far stronger than some silly girl friendship.” thus, the monster of a man, clad in heavy plate armor from head to toe, holding a longsword that must have been taller than even Y/N herself, and he strutted in front of the Stark girl, who stood tall, and looked at him with sternly, despite her heart dropping with fear. “So it is you they send again, isn’t it, you fucking monster?” the people gasped at the unlady-like vocabulary displayed by the Lady. “Do you find pleasure in killing young ladies? Is that why you so willingly volunteer to do all the dirty deeds the Lannisters order you to?” her voice was getting louder and harsher with each word. “First, you abused and killed your own sister.” Y/N spat at him. “Then, you dared to touch Princess Elia Martell.” she continued - both Ellaria and Oberyn were now on their feet, shocked by her recklessness - But whilst Ellaria was more frightened, the Prince was proud and satisfied - His sweet flower wasn’t afraid to speak up anymore. “You raped her! You ruthlessly cut her body in half! You outright destroyed her children!” she yelled at him. “And now, you would kill two other women, for no reason -- You must be jerking off to the thought of butchering us... Mayhaps you want to rape us too, don’t you? Then cut us in half? Or do you first rape after death as well?” the challenging of the Mountain made the man raise his sword up - Though both Tyrion and Cersei yelled out for him not to hurt the Stark girl, as it would go against the Law of the Trial by Combat, Y/N was quick to dodge, with a graceful twirl - And she snatched away the heavy sword of Meryn Trant, choosing a defensive stance in front of her friend. “So you even have against your Master’s rules, don’t you, you fucking deaf beast?!” lucky her, however, Sandor leapt from the stands and caught his brother’s attention, protecting her.  “LEAVE HER BE!” he roared, giving Y/N time to step away. “Is that how you rule over your guards, Your Grace?! You let them go savage and rampage everything in their path?! Where is the Rule of the Crown, then? Where is the abiding to the Faith?! Gregor Clegane is disobeying you, and you let him go! How is it any different from Alys Manderly’s case?!” Y/N yelled out, accusing the King, and by association, all the Lannisters. “IS THIS HOW IT WENT FOR ELIA MARTELL?! AND WHO KNOW HOW MANY OTHER COMPLETELY INNOCENT PEOPLE WHO HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH THIS WAR?! HOW MANY CHILDREN WERE SLAUGHTERED AND CARVED UP, WRAPPED IN LANNISTER BLANKETS, BECAUSE OF THE HEARTLESS WHIMS OF A TYRANT LEADING A BRAINLESS MONSTER?!” “ENOUGH!!!” King Joffrey screamed - His eyes were red with anger, and if he could, he would burn everyone alive in that place. “GUARDS - BEAT HER TO DEATH, RIGHT NOW!” “Not yet, you have not the right to do that - Your Grace. Wait three days, and if my fighter loses, then by all means, my life will be yours. Until then, it is mine own, and no one else’s.” as the King had his temper tantrum, realising he couldn’t touch the woman humiliating him, Y/N made a mock curtesy bow and spun around, pacing towards Alys and roughly grabbing her by the wrist, dragging her away from there, in the castle, to her own room. “Stay here. Don’t move.” she ordered, locking the door.

Y/N’s whole body was shaking like a leaf. She had never protested, or raised her voice, or acted violent in any way. She had never mocked or humiliated anyone, let alone, tried to stand up for someone like that, even putting her own life on the line.

How stupid could she be?

Frankly, she wanted to bash her skull against a wall and end it all, but she knew she had to come up with a plan, and fast. There was no way she could fight against the Mountain, of all people. She should have known it would be him... Hell, she didn’t even want the Trial by Combat, but seeing her friend being beaten up made her mind go array. Instead, she leaned back on the wall and looked up at the ceiling of the hall, trying to clear her brain and think rationally.

Where could she go now? What can she do? She only knows Tyrion and Sandor here, in King’s Landing, and neither would prove to be too great of a help. “You! How-- HOW COULD YOU DO SOMETHING SO STUPID?!” a familiar voice cried out, as rapid footsteps echoed - Y/N felt herself being pushed against the wall by weak hands. Her beautiful sister Sansa was crying in her chest, shaking and sobbing tragically. “You will die! How could you do that?! Was seeing dad die not enough?! Now you will have me watch you die as well?!”  “Sansa...” Y/N pulled her younger sister into a tight embrace, petting her hair dearly. “I don’t care about Alys! I don’t care about Jeyne either! I don’t care about anyone! Anyone can die - But you can’t! You can’t leave me all alone! I don’t want to be here anymore!” her voice was so broken, just like her heart. It shattered Y/N. If she could, she would kidnap Sansa and get the hell out of here, with the first opportunity. “Dorne and House Martell is known to cause problems for the Crown for hundreds of years. Might as well sneak you out and bring you back to Sunspear with your elder sister. You will see that she has taken quite a liking to the Water Gardens especially.” Oberyn’s amused voice betrayed none of his nervousness. Sansa had a glare on her face, looking at him. She saw him as the man who took her sister away from her. “Lord Martell, I would greatly appreciate it if you would not disturb my reunion with my sister, or imply such unseeming nonsense. I would not dare commit treason against the Crown and neither would Y/N.” somehow, the younger Stark child was able to keep her courtesies up. “Ahh, I see, so those pretty words run through the family, now that makes sense. You see, little flower, the truth is - Your sweet sister was happiest away from this place. I think that was obvious by what happened just moments ago.” Oberyn chuckled lightly. “Enough, you two. I am busy. I don’t have time for silly banters.” Y/N grumbled, prying her sister away from her embrace.  “Busy? And with what, might I ask? Surely, you won’t go train to fight the Mountain yourself, will you?” the girl did not look at him. “Ahh, you’re playing stubborn again. Do you like me reassuring you every time, or are you willingly forgetful?” “I will not have you dying to that monster, Ryn! I won’t let him take away someone important to me.” she snapped at him strongly. “Is that your declaration of love, sweetling?” this comment made the girl groan. “And who said anything about - Dying - Anyway? Do you think me so weak as to die to that meat brain? Surely not, otherwise I would get offended.” Oberyn tut-tut’ed at the girl playfully. “I don’t want to take chances.” came her resolute reply. “You created the perfect opportunity for me to get my vengeance against that thing who took Elia away from me. Whether you want to or not, I will have my revenge.” Oberyn stepped in front of her, gently picking her chin and raising it. “On the other hand, your bold declarations of today have turned me on so bad that I will have to steal you until tomorrow. Little flower, go back to your room, your sister is safe with me.” the gallant man with the mischievous smile easily picked his soon to be wife up bridal style and brought her to his room. The look on her face was almost hilarious, that’s how bewildered and embarrassed she was by him acting so forward, in front of her sister, no less. “Now, my sweet snowdrop, how about I show my love for you? It should serve as enough of a reassurance that I will win against that thing.”

The three days passed by far too quickly, and Y/N could only watch Oberyn train, or speak to Sandor and hopefully find out whatever weakness his awful brother might have had, that they could exploit. The outside court was, once again, the place where the Trial took place, and while the Mountain was already on the fighting ground, Oberyn was kissing and embracing Y/N and watching as Ellaria polished his spear. And coated it with the deadliest poison there was.

“Ryn, please, please, please - Promise me you won’t leave me alone. I can’t bare the idea of losing you.” her wet eyes made the man smile even more as he pulled her into another loving kiss.  “I won’t ever leave you, my love.” he put his forehead to her own, his hands on her cheeks. “I love you, Y/N.” “I love you, Ryn.” she held tightly onto his wrists, afraid of letting go. Still, it was thanks to Ellaria, who gathered her into her own arms, that she unclenched her fingers from around his hands, so he could get his weapon and go for the fateful fight. “Don’t worry, Y/N. Oberyn won’t lose. There is no other Red Viper in Westeros.” she petted her hair as the two watched the fight to death unfold.

Oberyn entered the fighting area by twirling around and showing off his agile and elegant moves - It almost looked as if he was dancing - Was it his way of showing Y/N that she has nothing to fear, and that the fight will be as easy as when she’d dancing around with the spear by the beach, and she’s smiling all happy and content?

He was taunting the Mountain, and parrying each and every one of his heavy blows. It was magnificent, watching the Viper mess around with his opponent, but every time Clegane would approach and hit, both Y/N and Ellaria would flinch and hug each other tighter.

The enemy was able to cut the spear in two, and even throw Oberyn to the ground - But it was the only damage he could do, as an enraged Prince impaled with ease the huge man’s torso, and even cut away at his leg’s tendons, making him kneel to the ground, before striking him even harder. The Mountain was laying flat on the ground, as Oberyn circled him, accusing him of the crimes he committed against Elia Martell, and kept ordering him to tell to the world who gave the wretched order - To prove that it was indeed Tywin Lannister.

“DON’T LOSE FOCUS!!!” Y/N shrieked at him, seeing the Mountain still twitching on the ground. Thankfully, the Viper took heed of the warning and dodged once the enemy tried to sweep him off his feet with his swinging arm. “RYN!!” it took every ounce of strength Ellaria had to keep the little flower away from the fighting ring, as Oberyn kept taunting and stabbing the Mountain, until finally, his last words became swept away into the stinking breeze of King’s Landing, and with one last defiant act, the Mountain had betrayed his former master.

“Tywin Lannister.” Gregor Clegane was dead, and so was the whole crowd, from shock. Only Y/N burst out of Ellaria’s arms once the trial was deemed finalized and the Martell Prince declared the winner, and she jumped in his arms, shamelessly peppering his whole face with kisses. Finally Dorne had received the confession and redemption of the perpetrator who committed such heinous, unforgivable acts against their beloved Princess. Now, it was only the Lannisters to bring to justice - Somehow - But all in due time. “I’m so not letting go of you tonight, my sweet Y/N.” the man couldn’t help but chuckle at the uncharacteristic display of affection from the otherwise timid and reserved lady - But it was, by far, the most endearing thing he’s felt. “Never let me go, Ryn.” how can anyone resist those sweet words, and those beautiful eyes of hers?

But Oberyn will soon learn that going against the Crown and getting revenge will prove to be far more devastating than he could ever imagine - Not for him directly, but for those dearest to him. The loss of the greatest Knight of the Lannisters must have been a huge blow, and they had to retaliate... Or that is what he thought at first... Though at the breakfast feast where only the select few members of the Royal family were invited, and the ones attending the Small Council. Everyone, but one, was shocked at what was to unfold.

They were supposed to just leave back home that day - How could things shatter so easily? Everything was under control, and they were the victors... How could the tides turn so quickly?

At the long table, King Joffrey and the Hand of the King were sitting on the opposite ends of the table. Oberyn, Y/N, Ellaria, Cersei  were on one side, while Varys, Tyrion, Baelish and Grand Maester Pycelle were on the other side. There were two more chairs left vacant, one on each side. Y/N looked at Oberyn and whispered in his ear, worried - Where was Sansa? Surely, as the future Queen, she would be there? Y/N then looked at the King, further up, at Sandor, but even he seemed to know nothing. Tyrion, as well, was simply drinking wine, not bothering to raise the covering platter from his dish.

“I see my sister is running late. Is it appropriate to begin our meal without the future Queen?” Y/N asked, her hands holding each other on her lap. “Clegane, why don’t you go by Lady Sansa’s room and see how she is doing?” Tyrion ordered the Hound. “I have not been informed by her maid of any illness.” Cersei spoke, slowly reaching for her cup of wine. She shared a look with both Tyrion and her father - A look of imminent danger. They were all suspecting something was wrong. “The food will get cold if we wait any longer. Perhaps my Lady wife has lost the track of time putting on make up or doing her hair. That is what pretty girls do, don’t they?” with a wave of his hand, the people at the table had to reluctantly begin the meal, taking off the covers of their plates.

An ear-piercing shriek, followed by the loud sound of a heavy chair colliding with the cold ground. All at once, the chamber was silent, save for the loud, ragged pants of distress from the Stark girl, whose eyes were glued to the contents of the plate before her, as she stood huddled and small, like a scared little mouse, absolutely terrified.

“You have declared war with the whole North, irredeemably, and now, with the South as well. Is this how the Crown knows to keep old alliances in place? Perhaps the Mad old King Aerys wasn’t as bad as we thought.” Oberyn rose to his feet, glaring at the oldest Lannister man, who couldn’t peel his eyes from the blasted thing that ultimately sealed the end of the Lannister House.

“Sansa...” there, on Y/N’s very platter, lay her own sister’s beautiful head. Her expression was fixed, terrified, in agony. “My sweet Sansa... What have they done to you...” powerlessly crawling back to the table, Y/N reached out and gingerly grabbed her sister’s head, hugging it dearly to her chest, sobbing in her still very soft red hair. “Who did this to you, my sweet Sansa? Tell me... And I will kill them with my own two hands. Who ever it is... No matter who it is... I will make sure to avenge you.” her voice was so low and serene, that it sent shivers to most of the people present. “I assure you, this crime has nothing to do with us. We didn’t want Eddark Stark’s death, nor Sansa’s. We did not want a war with the North.” Cersei’s desperate voice seemed to make Oberyn realise that although not herself guilty, King Joffrey was the culprit. “You were Queen Regent, and still allowed her father’s death to happen. It is your fault, as well as King Joffrey’s, that the North wants you all dead.” Oberyn felt himself re-living the very same moment he learnt the news of Elia’s death. He was enraged. “I will have Varys and Lord Baelish investigate her death.” Tywin waved his hand to the two. “The same way you investigated Elia’s death? Or the same way you ordered it?” the Prince slammed his fist onto the table. “The disobedience of a subject does not fall under my jurisdiction.” the old Lannister spoke up. “A leader who cannot control his subjects is a bad one.” Oberyn refuted immediately. “What is it, Sansa...?” Y/N’s soft voice made everyone silent. “Did you say... Joffrey? The bastard born of incest? The boy-King who is crueler than Maegor, and madder than Aerys?” that seemed to anger both the mother and the child. “It is your own fault that you had to retort to killing my father to get rid of those accusations. They only made you even more guilty.” Y/N looked straight at Cersei, with piercing eyes. “Out of all the Stark children, only Arya looked like father. Us, the other five, looked just like mother. You were in the same position. You were just too dumb to realise. Now, look around you - The whole Westeros knows your secret, yet you have the stupidity to create even more enemies. The North remembers, Cersei. I have long since wished for a lion’s pelt for a carpet. Might as well have more than one.” the Queen Regent shot to her feet and stormed in front of Y/N, only to have Ellaria get in between. “I do not think you are in the right to step anywhere closer to the Princess of Dorne.” it was a warning. “And neither of you has a right to slander and threaten the Crown.” she shot back immediately. “I have every right to do whatever the fuck I want. You took my father and sister from me, for no reason. Surely, you have forgotten... That your own twin brother and lover is being held captive by my brother and mother. Let us see how long does it take my mother to take the sword herself and put Jaime Lannister’s head on a spike, once she learns that her sweet Sansa met the same fate her as beloved husband. Let us see how long it takes Robb to ally himself with Stannis. Imagine King’s Landing... Against the North... The East... The South... And, perhaps, if that does not work, than the Targaryen girl with her three dragons... She is still in Essos now, isn’t she? And Essos is so very close to Dorne... I’m sure it wouldn’t be too difficult to go in search for her and get her over to claim her throne... So many possibilities... All very tempting...” Y/N spoke, not once blinking, not once extending her gaze else where, and once she was done, she turned around to leave. “DOG, DON’T LET HER LEAVE! CAPTURE HER AND THROW HER IN JAIL!” but the Hound did nothing. “DOG!” “Fuck the king.” Clegane spat, as he threw his weapon to the ground. “I am done doing the stupid orders of a brat.” “I AM YOUR KING!” Joffrey kicked his chair in his rage. “You are no king. You are just a fucking cunt.” he was the first to punch open the doors, and he stomped away, followed by Y/N and the Martells. “Sandor. Will you come with us?” Y/N’s soft voice called out, down the corridor. “No, little fawn. I’m done with this shit. Fuck this city and all the people in it.” the man growled, and the girl agreed with a hum. “But don’t you want to avenge Sansa?” Sandor stopped in his tracks. “I know you loved her.” she continued. “She told me she wanted to run away with you. Up North, back home. Said she only ever felt safe when she saw you. We have not forgotten the many times you saved us.” she felt herself being pinned to the wall. “Avenging her won’t bring her back to life!” Sandor growled at the girl. “I know. But I’ve lost too much to let those fuckers continue to live without facing the consequences of their actions.” Y/N’s was calm... Too calm. “I have a friend in the North. He is known for flaying people alive. He had shown me, once. I think it is time I polish up those skills.”  “And what would you have me do, then?” he let go of her. “You either become my guard and come to Dorne with me, or you go and join Robb in the war. Whether or not you want to fight, it is your choice, but I need someone I can trust up there. And I need to find a way to get Robb to ally himself with Stannis. He’s got a fleet. If Robb goes to attack the Westerlands again, threatening Casterly Rock, and Stannis attacks King’s Landing from Blackwater Bay... And if we attack from the South... There’s no way the Lannisters can win. We just need a good strategy, and a great many deal of people.” Oberyn had heard her speak this way for the first time. She wasn’t soft and shy anymore, nor was she erratic and desperate. Now, she was smart, collected and worst of all, grieving and war-driven. She had never been to war, but it was clear, all her trauma made her fearless. It was now that the young she-wolf was the most dangerous. “Fine. I’m going North. Your brother better not have me killed on the spot.” he scoffed, only to receive a pendant.  “Robb gifted it to me before I left for the capital. It has a small letter addressed to him. He will know. Tell him I had sent you. Tell them what happened. The North never forgets.” she explained the plan. “You have changed, little fawn.” he was the last thing the man spoke to the eldest Stark girl. “I am no longer a little fawn, Sandor. Not anymore.” thus, Sandor Clegane left for his horse, Stranger, and galloped North, while Y/N and the retinue for Dorne, including Alys Manderly, set South, only stopping by a distant part of the God’s Wood to set fire to what remained of Sansa.

She was far too beautiful to rot away. Best remain ashes, and let herself be carried by the wind and travel wherever she wants to. Now, she is no longer a caged bird. Now, she is free. The days in Dorne were no better, and Y/N kept herself locked in her room, staring helplessly at the wall besides her. She was heart broken, and only revenge could quench the rageful fire in her heart. Day in and day out, she sent out letters - The first, to her brother, Robb, informing him of Sandor’s arrival, and the ideas of allying either with the greatest force on which Renly was relying on, the Tyrells, or on Stannis’s army. Then, to Ramsay, learning more of Lord Bolton’s plans, and convincing him to strive harder to become legitimized and quickly take over the Dreadfort. Lastly, she had sent a letter to Tyrion. He was the only one from King’s Landing that she did not want to kill. He had told her that he was planning a certain one’s death, after being snubbed harshly for even thinking about becoming the Heir of Casterly Rock.

Though Alys was here, she did not want to see her. In fact, save for Oberyn and Ellaria, Y/N had not allowed anyone to enter her chambers. It was clear that she could not get over the shock of losing two of her family members in such a fashion, and for the most part, the only thing she discussed with Oberyn were war strategies - Unless he wanted to help the girl sleep and dismiss her nightmares, at least for the night, and he would pamper and spoil her until she would forget even her name. His sweet words and tender caresses, those passionate kisses and the culminating sounds were all but sinful secrets that will forever remain in her chambers.

Even so, she hardly smiled - And the idea of their wedding was long since forgotten, until one evening, as she was very comfortably sitting on his lap, she found herself telling him about the preparations. “I have made you wait long enough. Everyone needs a reason to celebrate these days - Us, most of all. I wish Sansa... My family... I wish they were here. But it’s fine. You are my family, just like they are, and Dorne is my home, they same as Winterfell.” “You are still hurting, my love. There is no need for you to rush or hide your mourning. You need to heal.” his voice was so gentle and loving, Y/N felt herself melting in his touch. “I know. But I was raised with very traditional and stuck up views. I have long since broken many of those sacred laws, but by mine own selfishness, I am invoking the marriage pact so I can have you even closer to me. Will you forgive me for my unbecoming selfishness, my sweet Prince?” his chuckled breath on her skin as he was kissing her neck made her fingers dig into his shoulder as she let out a sweet mewl. “There is nothing to forgive, my love. I am sure Dorne would be filled with joy. They will see the most beautiful Princess.” he smiled, looking up to her. “And as a wedding gift, I promise you, my love, I will bring you lion pelts for carpets.” for the first time since so long, a smile appeared on her face, and life seemed to return in those beautiful eyes of hers. “Really...?” she asked, breathlessly. “I may have killed the perpetrator who did those awful crimes against Elia, but it doesn’t take away that she is still dead, while the Lannisters are thriving, and well. Now, they have made my sweet Princess suffer and they killed her family. I will have them brought to justice.” her heart was beating so fast, and she was completely charmed. She almost couldn’t breathe anymore, that’s how excited she was, imagining the dead bodies of the Lannisters. “I love you more than life itself.” without even thinking, her heart spoke out. “That’s what I love to hear, my sweet flower.” he chuckled lightly before pulling the girl into his arms once again.

The wedding was fa more spectacular than any Dornish would expect - Was it because of all the pain and suffering they had to endure? Or because the region needed all the cheering up needed? Or, simply, because Oberyn loved Y/N so much that he wanted to spoil and pamper her with every resource available in his hands, fitting for the Princess of Dorne.

Either way, it did not matter - Ellaria was the one that Y/N wanted to help dress her in all the jewellery and expensive brocades and the linen embroidered with the shiniest golden threads and sparkly zircons. Her long hair, red like the Rhoynar Sun brought by Princess Nymeria herself, was embellished with the most precious brilliants and diamonds in existence. Her make up, also, made her lips red like the blood oranges that were ripe and sweet, but her eyes were dark and seductive, making them look even more attractive and piercing than they already were.

Her dress, also, was highlighting her gorgeous silhouette and her bossom, and it was of gold and orange - Fitting for the Princess of Dorne - And Oberyn, also, was wearing his best clothes, all in the same colours of the Martell.

The songs were so joyful and fun, all the people were having a blast, everyone was dancing and drinking and were excited to celebrate the happy marriage between their beloved Prince and the kind and beautiful Stark girl.

The two lovers, despite all the woes and sorrow in their hearts, found that, together, they could move on and find reason for happiness within each other. Not once, did they break apart from each other, their hands always together, fingers always intertwined, and they were kissing so shamelessly in front of everyone, without any care in the world.

But garments were of no use at night, and their bodies spoke every words that was left unsaid. There was no need for anything else, for the passion they had for each other was enough to be understood, and their love was like no other.

For many nights, the two were the happiest people in Dorne, and even through the letters, she had received many positive news - Perhaps there was still hope for a good future for the Stark family? Perhaps, there is even promise for peace? Who knew.

There was one person, however, who was very against everything going on, and her plans all ruined. There was one last act of vengeance that she could commit. 

One night, Y/N was drinking with Ellaria and Oberyn, and they were telling stories of old, and laughing about all the silliest things - Y/N especially wasn’t used to drinking so much so she was in an even gigglier disposition - But as long as she was in glee, and smiling, the two were content. A knock on the door made them raise their head, and as it opened, Alys timidly walked inside. 

“Alys - So good to see you. Here, take a seat, drink some wine with us.” Y/N smiled gracefully at her friend, kicking a stool for her to sit on. Alys could see very well that Y/N wasn’t the same shy girl from up North, but someone far more refined and fitting of her title of a Princess. And the way she was cuddled up into the Prince’s side was even more of an insult. “I dare not...” the Manderly girl muttered bashfully, looking down.  “Why are you acting all timid for, all of a sudden? Oh - Are you intimidated to sit with the Prince and his paramour? You were far more eager to bed them some months ago.” the Princess laughed shamelessly, making the girl keep her head even lower. “So King’s Landing was able to destroy even the most sociable of people. No surprise. Come on, you, just sit down and drink some wine with us.” Y/N sigh and rose to her feet, grabbing her wrist in an attempt to pull her on the chair - But Alys had brought her old friend into a tight embrace.  “Forgive me, Y/N, I have not been able to get over what happened at the capital. I’m still shaken up that I almost died back there... And were it not for you and the Prince to save me... I am so sorry I wasn’t able to celebrate your wedding as you deserved... I am a shameful friend...” the Manderly girl sobbed into the crook of her neck, making the Stark girl sigh and roll her eyes. “Enough of that. I don’t want to hear it. You either sit down with us, or you go back to sleep. I can’t see other reason for coming here.” but then, Alys whispered into her ear. “The Lannisters send their regards -” she thought she was being sneaky, coming over at night when she was drunk - What a fool. Before she could plunge the dagger hidden in her sleeve into Y/N’s torso, the Princess had already grabbed her wrist and threw her into the stool she had kicked earlier, making her stumble to the ground, allowing Y/N to grab the hand in which she was holding the weapon and she slammed it hard onto the hand laying on the table, which was keeping her up. “First of all - Fuck the Lannisters. Second of all... Fuck you.” Y/N chuckled, seeing Alys with huge tears in her eyes, groaning from the pain. “H-How did you -- How did you know?!” the Manderly girl shrieked at her, making Y/N cringe and rub her ears. “Sheesh, so loud, calm down already.” the Princess muttered, plopping back down on the comfortable couch. “Neither Oberyn nor Ellaria trusted you, from the very beginning. Every time they warned me of you, it had come to light.” she reached towards the bowl to eat some grapes. “Also - Tyrion told me you’re Cersei’s lackey. I had been on the lookout for you for... A while now.” “T-Tyrion?! The Queen’s own brother?!” Alys’s eyes were bulged wide open. “There’s no man who wants Cersei dead more than Tyrion, trust me on that. Which reminds me... Would you now tell me why exactly do you want me dead? You were safe here, which means whatever vendetta Cersei has against me, it could have been erased... So you have something personal against me. Why?” the girl asked, her voice mocking her, as she felt Oberyn embracing her lovingly. “She is jealous of you, my love.” Oberyn spoke, taunting the girl. “From the moment I wanted to bed you, but rejected her, she has had it out for you.” he chuckled darkly. “O, so the little peasant girl wanted your wealth and status, didn’t she? How quaint.” Y/N rolled her eyes, amused, but also disgusted. “IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN ME!” Alys yelled at her. “It should have been me...!” she started sobbing. “Cersei promised me she would marry me to you! She promised me wealth and status and everything I wanted, as long as I worked for her!”  “And you were stupid enough to believe her?” Ellaria snorted in disbelief. “Why would Oberyn ever marry someone like you?” Y/N asked in amusement. “Why would he marry YOU?!” the glare on her face made her look even uglier than before. “Because I’m cute.” Y/N laughed at her, only for her lover to agree. “Cersei thought she was being smart, creating a political alliance between the Starks and the Martells - But instead, she created an alliance that would one day come to destroy the Crown. Stupid bitch.” she shrugged at her. “Cersei would have never tried to marry you to me. Your House is nothing. Your name is nothing. Cersei isn’t smart, but she’s not that stupid either. She was only lucky I had fallen for this beautiful little lady over here, otherwise, I would have declined her offer too.” Oberyn planted a sweet kiss on the girl’s temple. “Lucky me, rather. You got me out of there, and you took care of me so dearly. I owe you everything, Ryn.” she leaned forward, her arms around his neck, pulling him into another sweet kiss. “You’re a woman worth loving and pampering, my love.” the man pulled her even closer to his body. “Just you wait until the Boltons skin your cunt of a mother and poor excuse of a brother -” Y/N immediately snapped up. “The Boltons are on the side of the North.” she corrected her, but by the look on her face, she realised otherwise. “Tywin bought Roose Bolton, didn’t he?” Y/N cursed under her breath, getting up to write a letter to her brother and to her bastard friend. “Not for long.” “The Boltons aren’t the only ones who support the Crown, you stupid girl!” Alys tried to shout, but she got ignored - For the most part. “The bastard son of Roose Bolton is MY friend. He is not loyal to anyone, even his father. Once he gets legitimized, he will kill Roose and will join our cause for good.” Y/N spoke, before looking up at Alys. “Which reminded me... Ramsay had always told me that, to get proficient at flaying, one must practice hard. I suppose it is high time I put in practice his teachings. I have to find out the other families that you claim are traitors to the Starks, after all.” Alys blanched on the spot. “Riri, will you help me out with her~?” that fakely sweet smile that Y/N had on her face made Alys even more terrified. This was not her old friend, Y/N Stark. This was a completely different person. “Gladly.” Ellaria got up from the couch and roughed up the Manderly girl, dragging her to the cellars. “Surely, you can go have your fun with her later. My sweet, innocent snowdrop aroused me too much, and I couldn’t possibly continue my night peacefully without some aid from my beautiful and lovely wife.” lazily extending his arm, he grabbed the girl’s wrist and pulled her back on top of him. “Since you ask me so nicely, I suppose I can make her wait a night... Or maybe two, to take care of my sweet husband of mine.”

[electricbathsalt]

Things I want to talk about/touch upon/see people mention more but cannot compile individual coherent posts about:

1. The fact Pops’ daughter apparently had a “falling out” with Pops (over her marriage??) that caused her to completely abandon the yakuza and maybe also cut contact with Pops (the dude is suspicious guys)

2. The fact that in the Overhaul-LOV initial meeting, Chisaki had to have intentionally chosen not to kill Mr. Compress.

3. The idea that many of Chisaki’s thought processes at least partially stem from his time in AFO’s facility. And of course, Pops.

4. How much Chisaki seems to lack a proper reaction to any sort of pain (He was beat to a pulp by Mirio & Midoriya, exploded himself, & got his arms cut off and I’ve never heard him so much as yelp) while still complaining about how overhauling himself hurts?? Yet he doesn’t show it.

5. (Highway scene) How Chisaki only screamed once the realization he wouldn’t be able to ever wake up Pops sunk in (isn’t confirmed but. I’m convinced).

6. The fact that there’s absolutely no way Chisaki wasn’t negatively impacted by being raised in the Yakuza. It’s simply inherent.

7. The blatant disregard Pops had to have had for both Chisaki and Eri’s well-beings to have designated Chisaki as her caretaker.

8. The endless amounts of potential for Chisaki & Dabi/Touya dynamics post-war, platonic or otherwise. (Multiple fics with this premise in my WIPs, lol)

9. The fact Chisaki seems practically incapable of holding a grudge. Like, think about it; is there a character you can say Chisaki genuinely, wholeheartedly hates and wishes the worst upon. You know what—what IS his opinion on Shigaraki/the LOV these days??

10. Realizing that in the initial Overhaul-LOV meeting, Chisaki literally just tone-matched them. Look:

Mr Compress says all that, and then Chisaki later explains:

Which, once you break down what Mr Compress said/how he said it, and what Chisaki said/how he said it… blunt statement of facts. Mr Compress told Toga how faded out the Yakuza have become with no sugarcoating, and Chisaki took that and said. “Well. Yeah.” But then when Chisaki did the same thing (blunt but true & valid criticisms of the LOV/Shigaraki’s leading skills (bc let’s be real, he was an ass leader at the time in terms of actual planning and execution)), the LOV got pissed. He pointed out all the relevant flaws and mistakes in Shigaraki’s leadership and then said it’d be better if he was the leader because he actually has a plan, and they got pissed at the mere prospect of serving under somebody else. Do you realize how much the story would’ve been altered if the LOV didn’t decide to just start attacking Chisaki here?? 💀 Sorry I’m exceptionally passionate about this bc the fandom gaslit me for a while into believing Chisaki was the one starting shit here 😔 but then I read it (a long time after I'd watched it in the anime) and was like. "what. he didn't initiate literally any of this shit. and everything he's saying is true??"

There’s probably more I could add to this but it’s getting long enough lol.

[blacknedsoul-blog]

Random Thought of the Day (VIII)

So, posh besties are finally canon, yay! Congratulations Annabel, you only had to die, get divorced, survive an assassination attempt and have about 4 or 5 mental breakdowns to make one (1) friend, that is progress! Hopefully the next one will take less effort.

That said, there are two things I want to dwell on here.

I should like to by your friend and Could we be friends?

This is not the first time we've seen Annabel ask or tell someone outright that she wants to be friends. It's the second.

Yes, Lenore is not only Annabel's wife, but -possibly- her first proper friend. And it's really interesting because these scenes show you two really different sides of her, even though it's a similar situation.

When she meets Lenore, Annabel comes across as a very confident person, full of confidence and absolutely charming. She is formal but approachable and straightforward about her intentions: "We can help each other".

On the other hand, at this point, Annabel is keeping the reasons she wants this friendship to herself, she seems nervous -even a little uncomfortable- and behaves much more awkwardly. She hesitates, chokes on words, doesn't quite know if what she's doing is appropriate.

If I had to think of reasons for this contrast, there are two.

First: Annabel when she has time to plan vs. when she has to improvise. She went looking for Lenore, probably had at least an entire night to think about what kind of person this mysterious woman locked in the attic might be and how to approach this conversation. On the other hand, this conversation with Prospero had to be pulled out of her sleeve after a lot of emotionally complicated moments, maybe it didn't occur to her that this conversation could actually happen, and she has no plan B if Prospero rejects the offer.

On top of that, Annabel knows better than anyone the risks of getting attached to someone in Nevermore.

Second, that the scene with Prospero functions in some way as a reflection of Annabel's feelings when she first meets Lenore: there's no reason to believe she was any better equipped to enter into a relationship with anyone at that point in her life than she is now. But in this scene, we -and Lenore- see what Annabel wants to show, the parts of herself that she may find most attractive or pleasing. Here, Prospero gets a glimpse of her awkward and uncomfortable side, and I'd bet that awkwardness was present in that first meeting with Lenore, it's just that she had a chance to think about it, rehearse it, and thus hide those sides of her character as well.

The thing that makes me think of it that way is this:

Annabel's first gesture to Lenore is to shake her hand, which she also mentions here:

She still doesn't remember doing it, but the idea behind it is more or less the same: Annabel associates this kind of formality with friendly or amicable gestures; a mixture of business dealings and affectionate promises.

Again, the same intention, but with a very different performance. One that makes me wonder what exactly her thoughs when she went to see Lenore.

The Introvert Who Adopts and the Extrovert Who Is Adopted

Another thing that got me thinking about this whole thing is that so far we've seen Annabel -a very introverted person- be the one to take the first step in getting into a relationship with someone: she's the one who asks the question.

The funny thing is that even though Lenore is an extrovert, it was the other way around, she never took the initiative to start a relationship with anyone: Annabel came to see her, Morella is her assigned roommate, Duke came to talk to her, Pluto was won in a Pokémon swap (and she didn't choose him, Ada threw him under the bus), and Eulalie and Bernice approached her first.

I can see why this would happen from Annabel's side; she's a person who moves in the shadows, someone who lives by appearances and isn't afraid to manipulate or deceive to get her way. Under this premise, explicitly telling the people she cares about that this is an honest relationship feels like something even necessary for the sake of the relationship and her own mental health.

But in thinking about why this is happening to Lenore, and going back and reading chapter 22 to do this little analysis, I remembered this scene:

And…I don't know about you, but I think I'm going to pin this one. For now.

[wisteria-prompts]

Thank you so much for doing my request it was so cute and I absolutely loved it. If it’s okay please could I ask for the same premise but with the upper moons 💙💙💙

*-Cracks Knuckles-* This is a tall order and I’m short as hell, time to climb.

TW for: Mentions of gore (Aizetsu), murder (Douma), and blood (Aizetsu/Douma)

Upper Moons Kissing Their Crush For The First Time

Akaza

The most gentleman-like out of all of them, and the softest with you.

Probably does it right after returning from a mission, but is more likely to do it if the mission is a success.

He confesses not with words, but with a kiss.

It’s a quick one, but it leaves you feeling breathless with how he poured every ounce of his feelings for you into it. His lips are cold, but it creates a delicious contrast between you two that has you wanting more.

His hands are barely touching you, afraid of not knowing his own strength.

You could feel just from his lips alone that he cared so much for you that it hurt, and he’d do anything to keep you safe.

“No matter if you feel the same or not, I will always protect you.”

He won’t let a loved one die in his arms again.

Douma

An absolute tease, you almost have to beg him to be normal for once…

Will do it on a whim, no rhyme or reason to it. He’s equally as likely to confess and kiss you anywhere, anytime. In front of his cult, while murdering some slayers, even while attending an Upper Moon meeting…

Yeah, Muzan wouldn’t be too amused by that one. It’s up to you to kind of steer or influence when and where he does it.

A little rough with the kiss, he does it after pulling you to sit in his lap, making sure to have a good grip on your hips so you can’t escape.

Not afraid to nick your lips with his fangs, as he enjoys the sight of your blood, the taste of you on his tongue…

“Well well, seems you’ve caught my attention, little one. Mind entertaining me for a bit?”

He won’t admit it’s more than just amusement fueling his actions.

Daki

You infuriate her with how you won’t get out of her head!

It’s just as infuriating how she can’t stop staring at your lips, wondering what you’d taste like.

She does it while still disguised as an oiran, you acting as her loyal attendant, during one of her less busy hours.

Practically pulls you to her by the arm and kisses you forcefully, pouring all her frustrations into it.

It’s rough, unpracticed, and maybe a little nervous. She prides herself on her image, being poised at all times, along with the years of experience she has under her obi belt. But when it comes to you? She falls apart.

You’ve picked apart her meticulously created self, and reconstructed her into someone who needs you so much it’s laughable.

“You…You better take responsibility for this. Make up for what you’ve made me do.”

Her words may imply that you owe her for tainting that image of hers, but really, she just wants you close.

Gyutaro

Voted least likely to ever confess his feelings. He’d rather fight all 9 Hashira at once than admit he likes you.

As always, it’s fueled by his sheer amount of insecurities and envy. He can’t fathom a universe where you’re interested in him like that, and so he refrains from so much as just hinting at his feelings for you.

It comes to light when Daki has had enough of all the pining and longing stares, and calls him out on it in front of you.

He freezes, doesn’t know what to do- until you reciprocate his feelings, admitting you’d always found him kind of cute.

“I don’t know what the hell you’re on, but…I’m not going to waste this.”

His lips are chapped, he’s got your head in a death grip, and he’s so tall you have to crane your neck a little too far back than is comfortable-

But it’s good, it’s enjoyable, and now you’re his forever. He makes sure to let you know as much.

He won’t let a diamond such as you go, now that he has you in his arms.

Kokushibo

He’d thought pursuits of the romantic kind were beneath him for a long time, ever since he turned his back on his wife and children all those years ago.

But you threw him for a loop, and suddenly, he’s finding himself becoming a romantic all over again.

Almost certainly plans the confessing and first kiss, a little too much to be honest. He just needs it to be perfect, for both you and him.

You’re led through the infinity castle by an elaborate trail of flower petals and candles, ending at his room.

He gives you a rehearsed speech of how you make him feel every day, how you linger in his mind all the time, and how he craves your presence.

“There is no one else worthy…of staying by my side. The only option…Is you.”

When you accept, he seals it with a kiss.

It’s deep, slow, and feels like it burns with passion. He’s surprisingly warm, for being a demon, but it’s pleasant.

You are his moonlight, who will accompany him for all eternity.

Sekido

It happens spontaneously, during one of his fits of rage.

You’re simply a bystander, there because you just…Always are. You’re always in his vicinity, playing a part in his day that he can’t help but reminisce about when alone.

He quickly tires of the pangs inside his chest when he looks at you, becoming infuriated when you smile so kindly at him, trying to calm him down.

It’s unceremonious, how he smashes his lips to yours just then, teeth clashing as he releases all his anger and raw emotion into the kiss.

As unexpected as it is, there is no doubt in your mind what he feels for you is real and genuine. He’s not the type to do this sort of thing, so take advantage of it when you can.

“You damn human…How dare you make me feel these things! What have you done to me?!”

You’re going to have to show him how to be gentle, because you’re the only one he’ll try for.

Urogi

He has plenty of places and ways he wants to kiss you, while singing to the world of his feelings for you.

But his favorite, that he reserves the very first kiss for, is the nest he’s built up in a tree

The only people who know it even exists are you and Urogi himself. He’s given you special privileges, so don’t take it lightly.

During one of the many times he flies you up there to hang out, he seems a lot more touchy and clingy than usual…But you brush it off, assuming it’s just Urogi being Urogi.

It’s not. He’s trying to butter you up, get on your good side before-

“Hey, you know you’re important to me, right? Am I important to you, too?”

Before you can even answer, his lips are on yours. It’s an eager kiss, and he feels almost…Desperate, for you to return the sentiment. As if he’s afraid you’ll reject him.

He really wants your love, and he’ll be ruffling his feathers non-stop the moment you say, of course he’s important to you.

You’re his lovebird, after all.

Karaku

He’s been trying for months to get you to take him seriously.

Honestly, it gets a little pathetic at certain points- He’s trying so hard to convey to you how much you’re on his mind, in his heart, and everywhere else in his life but it’s just not working.

You’re so used to his flirty and provocative behavior that it just rolls right off your back. You think he’s playing the same game he’s been playing since the first time he split off from Hantengu.

He’s frustrated, understandably so, to the point that he ends up taking you by the shoulders one night and plants a kiss on your lips so passionate and heated, that there’s no choice but for you to recognize his feelings.

By the time he pulls away, he’s the one that looks flustered and taken apart at the seams.

“J-just so you know…I really meant that. I like you. No games.”

A huge wave of relief comes over him when you finally accept him as he is.

He’s a demon of pleasure, and there is no greater pleasure than being yours.

Aizetsu

Another one who wouldn’t just simply confess to you. At least not through words.

He’s bound by endless sorrow- In addition to being unable to believe you love him, he also just doesn’t want to drag you down into this dark, negative world of his.

And yet…

And yet he finds himself holding you tightly, right after slaughtering a demon slayer who came much too close to taking you away from him.

“Please don’t be mad at me.”

He says, just before giving you the softest of kisses, hands gently holding your cheeks.

It’s feather-light, slow, almost hesitant. Just like him. Yet it’s also saying everything he’s ever wanted to say, but couldn’t.

It would be an incredibly sweet scene if not for the backdrop of blood and viscera around you two.

When you return the kiss, he supposes he won’t have to be both sad and alone anymore.

[jellycrusher]

Wolves and Lambs: Part 1

Alpha Max Verstappen x Omega fem!driver

Genre: Series, Omega verse, Enemies to Lovers, Romance, Eventual smut

Synopsis: Male Alphas are the ones who dominate motor sports all around the world, especially Formula 1. It is a well known fact. Females in general nor Female Omegas are never heard nor encouraged to join the sport since the 1950s. Well, up until now...

Word Count: 2.4k

Chapter's Premise: "How could I forget? The reckless rookie during FP1. Almost crashed into me."

Parts: W&L masterlist / general masterlist

"How does it feel to be the only female alpha here on the grid?" The reporter extends his mic to you during the last press conferences on the last F2 Grand Prix in Abu Dhabi.

Here we go again. "It doesn't feel any different. Everybody here puts out their all when racing and I do that too. Outside of race week, I could say that they're like my younger brothers. It's fun."

"Congratulations again for your promotion to Formula 1 for the next season. Do you have any expectations? Any goals coming in to next year?" At least this reporter is not sexist unlike the others.

"I have been the test driver for Aston Martin for almost two years now. I'm grateful that I've been given the seat alongside Fernando Alonso. Any expectations? I've seen how hard everyone works back in the factory. I hope we develop a better race-winning car. My goal is definitely to win a Grand Prix." You can't help but smile at the thought that your next career move is inching closer and closer now.

"Thank you very much. That's y/n y/l/n, everyone. Your 2023 F2 World Champion." You bid goodbye to the reporter while your Press Officer ushers you to the next reporter.

After your meeting with the Aston Martin Team, your assistant tugs your shirt to signal you to walk to Mike Krack, the team principal.

"Here comes our favorite female driver!" He enthusiastically opens up his arms to welcome you in a tight hug. "Are you ready for the next season?"

"All good. I'm itching to jump in the car and drive." You chuckle as he release you from the hug.

"Hello sir. I just would like to go through something with you." Megan, your assistant, clears her throat which caught the attention of your new team principal. "I just informed y/n that you are aware of her true classification. I want to know how do we handle it from here."

You freeze in your spot as you observe Mike's face. It was astounding that your team principal is still very much determined to add you to the lineup despite knowing that you are not an Alpha, rather an Omega. He assures that he didn't care about it but what he looks for in a driver is talent, grit, and passion.

All your former team in F3 and F2 were never made aware of this fact, even until now. You never had a problem with this secret since your heat haven't arrived yet. At 25, you were considered a very late-bloomer, Normally, one would have their first heat at around 17-20 years old. If you were asked, you prefer it to never arrive at all. Better that way, at least it won't affect you during your races if ever it comes unexpectedly.

Ultimately, you had to force your manager to be upfront with Mike Krack. She was hesitant at first but you knew it was inevitable. The first one is always unpredictable and is affected by your emotions. It's better if your contract stays intact and won't be affected by it.

"We'll keep it under wraps. Limit the people within our team. I know a few people in the media so if this gets out, we can control it. I'll do everything that I can to keep a talent such as yours." Mike pats your back as he noticed you keeping quiet at Megan's side.

It's a wonder that you were able to keep it a secret up until now. It's not that it's forbidden to have Omegas as drivers in motorsport. There were a few male Omegas and only one female Omega before. She drove for one season and retired on the next. It was a very brief stint. Since then, no female omegas were ever able to climb up to Formula 1. Well, not until you but it's a secret. For now.

Of course you want to make a name for yourself. Not just being the first female driver since the 50s but a female Omega. It's something to be proud of. Although, majority of the people are still against it and will surely doubt your talent before they even see it.

Most of the people in the paddock that are either managers, mechanics, presenters, race engineers, and PR officers are almost all Betas and a few are only Omegas; just to name a few. The drivers and team principals are almost entirely Alphas.

You remember Megan mentioned that two of the drivers on the 2024 grid are Omegas but you forgot the names. Well, she also painfully reminded you to keep your classification a secret from them so forgetting who's who is not actually a bad thing.

Back in your F3 and F2 days, whenever Alpha drivers would argue with each other and get rowdy, you could literally feel the effects within you. Shivers down to your spine, tightening chest, trembling hands. Used to having that kind of physical effect on you during those situations, you would just avoid any altercations with any of them.

You were dubbed "The Lamb" of the paddock, being the calm and collected driver out of all of them. In contrast to your nickname, you were like a wolf when you put on the helmet. You would obliterate every driver during every race, herding them to the side.

"I look forward racing alongside our new driver." You, Megan, and Mike swiftly turned your head towards one direction. The sight of the Spanish driver smiling made you freeze. "I've seen your lap times during one of the test drives at Silverstone. It's been the talk of the factory. You almost beat Max's record lap time on the track."

He's definitely an Alpha. The Alpha aura that the two time world champion exudes is definitely nerve-racking. Any other Omega should've felt this when they met him, for sure. It's good that you're used to being around Alphas that it's not obvious in your body language that you were affected.

You bumped fists with Alonso. "Let's not forget the impression you left on the other drivers on FP1 back in Abu Dhabi GP when 11 rookies joined the practice for the Driver Development Program. You drove my AMR23 like a beast and you were the only rookie who was able to put their car in the top 10. In P3, at that." Alonso chuckles, reminding him how the team radios of other drivers went when you were passing them on the track, as broadcasted.

"Thank you sir. Just wanted to show everyone who they might compete against." you replied.

"Oh you most definitely did." he smirks.

It was a comfortable welcome within Aston Martin. Even Lance Stroll, who took a break from Formula 1 to recover from his injuries due to a career-changing incident, worked with you and Alonso to work out the kinks in the car. Being the son of Lawrence Stroll, he won't leave his son out in Formula 1 in any kind of way. Plus, Lance is a familiar face back in karting days so his presence actually helps.

Days pass and it all felt like a blur. You were practically living in the factory when you made certain to be as hands-on as possible with the development of the car. When you sat in the car for almost 2 hours for the seat fitting, Megan basically bribed the other engineers to let you rest for once. The other employees nearby were laughing because Megan was pushing the other engineers away that you were hollering to come to you.

Come February, the day of the AMR24 reveal. It was the first event where you donned your green race suit in front of everyone. In the backstage, Fernando could notice the tenseness painting your face. Lance was also there with you two waiting. He smacked your back so hard that you almost cursed at him, warranting a loud laugh from Fernando.

The welcoming party for the F1 teams was held in Bahrain on the third week of February, just a few days before pre-season testing. Lance and Fernando accompanied you to a ballroom decorated elegantly from the floor to the ceiling where waiters are walking around to give hors d'oeuvres and champagne to people basically in dapper suits and sparkling dresses at every turn. F1 events never disappoint.

You gently push Lando and Fernando to leave you and to go mingle with sponsors and other people they know. Laughing at how close you got to the two drivers just after a few months of working with them. Fernando felt like a mentor and a father, while Lance felt like an annoying brother.

Multiple Alphas gathering in one venue is hurting your nose and making your head spin. As a temporary refuge, you occupy an empty seat at the bar and ordered an Amaretto Sour. It didn't take you two sips before somebody with a mild Alpha scent sits next to you. You look at the man through your periphery. Unruly hair so brown with soft curls and a gummy smile.

"Nervous on your first event?" he says, sliding his drink close to him after the bartender hands it out.

"Hm?" You swiftly turn your head at the man, still taking a sip from your drink.

"You're y/n, right? Aston Martin? I'm Lando Norris. I'm just wondering why a gorgeous woman like you is alone here at the bar?" he replies.

"Nice to meet you!" You offer your hand out to the Mclaren Driver and he shakes it. "Big events like this is not my thing. I'm just charging up my social battery right now. Fernando and Lance will likely pull me later to meet with our sponsors." You add while taking another sip to help mask the overwhelming scent of the venue.

"Tell me about it. It's an introvert's worse nightmare." Another man with an Australian accent pops up beside Lando, wrapping his arm on the man's shoulder. "I'm Oscar Piastri. Nice to meet you!"

Lando and Oscar turns out to be such a fun company to be with. They even introduced you to some of the drivers that were not so busy socializing with VIPs and sponsors; like Yuki Tsunoda, Daniel Ricciardo, Pierre Gasly, Esteban Ocon, Alexander Albon, and Logan Sargeant.

Lando was about to call Charles and Max when he spotted them from afar but you were quickly pulled away by Lance to do some rubbing shoulders with your team's sponsors.

"Hey! Why did you call me?" Charles pats Lando's back then proceeds to greet the others gathered around at the bar.

"I was going to introduce you to someone but Lance swept her away." Lando scoffs as he greets Max, who appeared behind Charles.

Max and Charles search the crowd for Lance and eventually spots the man with a gorgeous girl at his side in an emerald green long dress. "Remember the driver who got P3 in FP1 when we were in Abu Dhabi?" says Lando to the two men staring at your side profile while you were busy smiling and mingling with older men.

"Y/n Y/l/n, right? Aston Martin?" Charles said, still can't peel his eyes away from you.

"How could I forget? The reckless rookie during FP1. Almost crashed into me." Max sneers, turns back at the bar and orders a drink.

"Come on mate. Like you were not? You were too aggressive at that FP1. You drove like you were racing with us already. Even overtaking at the pit lane exit." Charles lightly slapped his hand on Max's chest, earning a laugh from him and Lando.

"Still. At the end of the day, she was too eager to prove herself that it came off as reckless." Max takes the drink that he ordered and turns back around to his fellow drivers.

"Come on, you were like that when we were young. Remember our inCHIdent?" Charles, Lando, and even Pierre and Alex laughed so hard at the mention of the adorable memory of Charles and Max's rivalry when they were young.

"Maybe you're just nervous that someone might be able to finally de-throne you from your seat, your majesty?" Lando chuckles.

"We'll see at the pre-season testing if she's all bark and no bite." says Max, staring at you like you're a lamb in a wolf hunt.

"The new season of Formula 1 is just around the corner. But before the lights go out in Bahrain, you'll see all teams hit the track in three rigorous pre-season testing days. It's the first chance to see how this season is shaping up."

It was so surreal to see your driver number 13 in big font on the side of your AMR24. This is the dream and it all starts with the pre-season testing. With only just one car per team to be allowed per day, it was decided that you will drive on the first and second day, and Fernando on the third day.

You could say that it was a bit difficult on the first day. The car was superb and fast, except for the porpoising. After driving almost 150 laps with all the porpoising and understeer, your back felt like cracked uncooked noodles. The makeshift bed in your room in the garage basically inviting you to sprawl down on it. Thankfully, the car got better on the second day.

Everyone was so busy to improve everything on the car that you barely mingled with anyone outside of your team. Even on the third day where Fernando was out on track, you were still discussing with the engineers on what to improve and what strategies to use on the first race in Bahrain a week from now.

After the pre-season testing, Megan made sure to empty out at least two days in your schedule to give you a break. You woke up at around 11 am and went down to the hotel lounge to spend some time reading. Oscar was about to go to the hotel restaurant but stopped when he saw you.

"What are you reading?" You looked up behind you when you heard a voice and saw Oscar in casual clothes.

"Nothing. Just something to pass the time." You replied as Oscar takes up the couch beside you. "Are you about to have lunch?"

"Yeah. Just waiting for Lando." said Oscar, keeping his eyes on you. Oscar paused for a moment, contemplating on continuing his train of thought. "I'm curious so I'm just gonna ask it now."

"What?" you ask, closing your book.

"Why are you hiding that you are an Omega?"

Next part: Part 2

[antlerclxws]

Charminghearts || Ghostface Headcanons.

(Imagine with me here, simply under different circumstances!)

- Red is the one to make the calls, voice modulator gifted to her by Maddox under the premise of simply pulling a few harmless pranks on her friends and on Chloe, no malicious intent, right?

- She always does it late at night, hissing out terrible jabs about their victim’s parents or who they’re related to by any means. (Ex; “One wave of your mother’s wand can’t save you from this, what a fairy she is.”)

- Chloe is the real one to do the killing, being sword trained and particularly fast, it becomes more of a game to her, even as something dark shifts in her the more the blood meets the blade.

- She might be the most unserious part about this whole affair, unable to stop herself from at least showing off one knife trick before ending the victim’s life. It ends up in her getting an eye roll from her girlfriend afterwards, “The last thing they see can’t be a knife trick! That’s dumb!” “It’s only dumb because you’re not seeing it!”

- Their ability to cover their crimes is practically uncanny, Red can cover their tracks faster than Chloe can make them and they often think of these events as ‘dates’ too. (Although more often than not they do go on real dates, these clean ups are like aftermaths.)

- Chloe does treat the killings as hunter hunting prey, an almost predatory behavior as she pushes open doors and tears down whatever’s in her way to get to the assigned victim of the night. It’s a scary sight that even manages to frighten Red at times.

- Their motive mostly hinges on Red, angry at her mother for keeping her from Auradon for so long and then pushing her out to be with them as if they won’t look at her like she’s some zoo animal. It made her angry, it made her lash out.

- Chloe follows Red like a lovely knight. When a Charming falls in love, they fall hard, and so deep it could border one something close to obsession if they’re not careful. It’s a thrilling feeling, killing under her girlfriend’s orders, even when it goes against every moral her mother’s storybooks have taught her.

- They often get told rumors about themselves, even when crossing the halls in Auradon Chloe gets stopped at least once to talk about it, with Red looking over her shoulder and sizing up the person. “Did you hear? Someone else was killed last night! I heard it was on the museum steps without the cameras even seeing them!” “Oh my god, that’s terrible.. isn’t it Red?” “Yeah.. I didn’t know people had the heart to do that.”

- Red is ultimately the mastermind to this endeavor, think Billy Loomis to Chloe’s Stu Macher. She is the angry one, the one who is lashing out, and there’s no coercion on Chloe’s part either. She loves her- they love each other, this becomes as normal as it can be for the two girls. They’re dedicated, and don’t see themselves getting caught in the future.

[qatheauthoress74]

Transformers One Spoiler Review

There are so many spoliers in this review. I am not kidding when I say go watch the film (five times at least) before reading this. Okay? Good.

I’m gonna be honest here. Growing up I wasn’t all that invested in the Transformers franchise as other kids were. I ocasionally watched a random episode of Transformers Animated or Prime whenever they were on TV back in the day but I wasn’t what you’d call a fan. All that changed after I watched Bumblebee (2018) on a whim and it changed my brain chemistry in the best way. Seriously, that film is still one of my comfort movies and I love it so much that I even began to write fanfiction again with several TF fics, including my Riding A Sunset story (https://archiveofourown.org/works/17648414/chapters/41617823).

But before Bumblebee, theatrical Live Action Transformer films had the infamous status of being bad to downright terrible for overusing bland human characters over the Autobots or Decepticons as well as being very inconsistent with their own established continuity. Not to mention making some characters act very out of character. Seeing a film like Bumblebee helped me believe that filmmakers are capable of telling a story that not only respects the lore but also genuinely cares about substance over spectacle outside of the well-made fight scenes. That was why I wanted to give Rise of the Beasts a chance when it came out but I was sadly a little underwhelmed. It is still better than any of the Transformer films Micheal Bay directed, but personally, that’s like saying the Eukrea 7 film “Pocket Full of Rainbows” is better than E7: Ao and the follow-up film trilogy, which isn’t saying much. Again, that’s just me and my biased opinion. Which is the whole point of this review.

But believe me when I say I did want to give Transformers One a chance. I was hopeful after learning it was going to be fully animated and would actually focus on the Transformers instead of some random humans. So, what kind of plot would the film be about it’s a prequel set on Cybertron?

Well…

Plot: The premise is the origin of the mighty leaders of the Autobots and Decepticons, Optimus Prime and Megatron, and how the two factions would eventually fight over control of their home planet, Cybertron. Both started as lowly miners unable to transform into vehicles like the other half of their race can and so are forced to work day in and day out in their underground home of Iacon City to collect the fuel source known as Energon. The reason they need to do so is because 50 cycles before the events of the story the leaders of Cybertron, The Primes, died in a war against an alien race called the Quintessons. After they were killed an important relic known as the Matrix of Leadership disappeared and it led to the Energon dwindling until it could only be found deep under the planet’s surface. Without Energon, the Cybertronians would perish, which is why Orion Pax (Optimus Prime’s identity before he became a Prime) wants to find out what happened to the Matrix of Leadership. The current leader of the Cybertronians, Sentinel Prime, is trying to find it out on the surface but has been unable to do so. D-16 (Megatron’s original name) would rather keep his head down but constantly gets dragged into whatever zany scheme Orion has come up with at the moment. Thanks to unintentionally antagonizing a Cybertronian named Darkwing the two get dumped into the lowest place imaginable and meet an overly talkative but friendly bot called B-127 (aka Bumblebee). There they discover a warped message from one of the fallen Primes, Alpha Trion, calling for aid. Orion sees this as an opportunity to find a clue to where the Matrix might be and convinces D and Bee to help him reach the surface and inadvertently brings along Elita-1, Pax and D’s former boss, who recently lost her job thanks to them breaking protocol to save another miner’s life. The four bots end up discovering Alpha Trion’s unconscious body and manage to wake him up. He reveals to them that Sentinel is not what he seems and tells them a horrible truth:

Sentinel was never a Prime and was the one responsible for killing the original Primes with help from the Quintessons.

And all of the Energon the Cybertronians have been mining was being given to the Quintessons by Sentinel as a form of hush money to keep them from revealing his true colors to the Cybertronians. The heroes later learn that he was also the one responsible for taking their cogs as newborns so they could never have the freedom to be anything else but miners. The story then goes to show how Orion, Elita, and Bee want to bring Sentinel to justice while D (who gets slowly consumed by his deeply suppressed anger) wants to seek vengeance against Sentinel for what he has done and kill him for his crimes. The story gradually unfolds as lines are drawn, and tragically, the beautiful friendship between Orion and D ends with them becoming bitter enemies under their new personas, Optimus and Megatron. The movie ends bittersweetly with Optimus inspiring his former fellow miners into becoming Autobots and bringing Energon back to the planet as soon as he was given the Matrix after he sacrificed himself trying to save Sentinel from D/Megatron’s wrath. He also gave the miners their T-Cogs back, restoring their freedom and autonomy. Optimus then sends a message to the Quintessons, telling them he and the Autobots will be ready to face them when they return. Meanwhile, Megatron forms a new faction consisting of the previous members of the dead Primes' High Guard and calls them Decepticons to remind themselves to never be deceived by anyone again.

Damn.

Characters/Voices: The film leans heavily on established lore from pretty much all of the comics, the Aligned Continuity, some Live Action stuff, and Transformers Animated. I wasn’t bothered by the celebrity voice cast. Don’t get me wrong, I will always choose professional VAs over celebrities anytime, but I genuinely thought everyone did a great job, especially Chris Hemsworth as Orion/Optimus and Brian Tyree Henry as D-16/Megatron. Henry said in interviews he was using his experience as an activist in college as inspiration for how resentful and angry D-16/Megatron sounded in wanting to change things and I say he succeeded. Hemsworth had done his homework by consulting with THE Optimus Prime himself, Peter Cullen. I personally like to believe Cullen shared his “how I became Optimus Prime story” which is summed up by how Optimus should “Be Strong Enough To Be Gentle.” The reason I think that is because I felt it in Hemsworth’s performance, especially at the end of the film. I loved how they gradually sounded more like Optimus and Megatron as the story progressed. Which is both amazing and heartbreaking at the same time because you could see from the start how close Orion and D-16 were to each other before learning about the truth. It gave me the same feelings after seeing other great friendships/sibling bonds like Vi/Power/Jynx and Moses/Ramses fall apart in Arcane and The Prince of Egypt. Also, was anyone else reminded of that scene from The Fox and The Hound Todd and Copper's promise of staying friends after seeing Optimus' flashback of his first meeting with D-16? );

Other standouts include Laurence Fishburne as Alpha Trion. He gave the Prime a grand presence that almost reminds me of James Earl Jones as Mufasa from The Lion King. RIP.

Scarlett Johansen was great as Elita-1, but I already had zero doubts since she had experienced voice acting before this film.

Vanessa Liguori did a great job of giving Airachnid a sinister personality.

And I have no idea who this “Jon Bailey” is, but he certainly gave Soundwave an “Epic” voice that I liked. ;)

Steven Buscemi as Starscream was a delightful surprise, even if I learned way more about Starscream’s kinks in this film than I would like, but hey, if he likes getting hit and choked, I won’t kink shame him.

Jon Hamm made me hate Sentinel so much. Give him an Oscar, please.

Now, the one actor who I was a bit wary of was Keegan-Michael Key as B-127/Bee. Bee has quickly become one of my favorite Transformers thanks to Bumblebee (2018), and I was worried Key would make him unbearable to sit through. But as I said earlier, the script (and possibly the voice director) made Bee come off as annoying in a “doesn’t know better” kind of way that almost leans to obnoxious but more akin to a hyperactive young adult who’s happy to have friends. Heck, the film even knows his voice could get annoying and made several funny jokes surrounding it. Also, the film knew to only have Bee talk too much during scenes that were supposed to be funny. When it came to the more quiet moments Bee was able to take things seriously as well as the rest of the characters.

And yes, I noticed Steve Blum was the racer announcer and archive guard. He did amazing as per usual. No notes.

Animation: I can’t stress enough how beautiful the animation for this film is. Industrial Light & Magic did an excellent job with the animation and I hope to see them do another Transformers film like this again. I loved the way Iacon City was designed.

The director, Josh Cooley, said the filmmakers were inspired by the Art Deco movement and you can see it from how the buildings look. It gives off a Metropolis meets Blade Runner in the best way. I also liked the way the roads and rail tracks would “magically” appear when someone was driving on them. And the way the planet’s mountains moved was also nice to look at.

And this is something that my mom liked while she watched the film was how Alpha Trion used sand to show the past and what happened to the Primes. (Who knew Alpha Trion was an Earthbender? XD)

One touch that I really like was when after the quartet learns of Sentinel’s alliance when the Quintessons you can see D-16 is sitting further away from the others and has his back facing them. A subtle sign showing the growing distance between him and the heroes. And the way his optics gradually changed from gold, orange, and finally to red was done very well.

Also, when Orion reunited with the miners he made sure to kneel so he wasn’t towering over them. It’s a nice way that show how humble he truly is compared to Sentinel and later Megatron.

And another thing was when D-16 shot Orion his left arm got destroyed. D-16 originally ad the Megatronus Prime decal Orion gifted him at the beginning of the film on his right arm, too. It truly feels like D-16 is destroying his old self in that moment.

Did anyone else notice that Shockwave and Soundwave initially had yellow optics and visors, but they were changed to red in the post-credit scene? They must've did it to match their new leader, which I'm sure Starscream was very "happy" about since he was originally leader of the High Guard and had red optics before Megatron. XD

I didn’t expect this film to get violent, but the shot of Megatron killing Sentinel by pulling him apart was brutal. The film did not kid around with its PG rating.

Nitpicks:

If I could complain about a few things I would say that I wished the film had a slightly longer runtime. At least 10-15 more minutes in the third act. I would’ve loved to see more of the final battle with the miners fighting Sentinel’s soldiers and Optimus vs. Megatron. I did mean it when I said Hemsworth and Henry killed it as Optimus and Megatron. But hey, if their performances were that good it definitely convinced me to go see the next film with them in it.

I would’ve liked to have seen other animals on Cybertron’s surface besides those metal deer but that’s just me.

Also, this is just a me thing again, but I kinda wished the miner characters (or minors XD) had more distinct voices. It’s just that since the Generation 1 cartoon, all of the Autobots were known for having unique accents like Ironhide’s southern drawl, Wheeljack’s Brooklyn accent, or Jazz’s smooth way of speaking. I mean, if the High Guard/Decepticons were allowed to have voices based on their original counterparts the Autobots should’ve had the same thing, ya know?

And how dare they tease me with namedropping “Medic Ratchet” but not actually have him appear in the film. I want my grumpy doc-bot. And Drift. I don’t think I saw Deadlock with the High Guard. Did anyone? I think I mostly just saw Seekers and Coneheads in the crowd shots.

HC/Theories:

The reason mining Energon was so dangerous had to do with Primus himself deliberately trying to halt it as much as possible. Think about it, Primus sent the Matrix of Leadership away before Sentinel could use it. I bet Primus didn’t want Sentinel to give Energon to the Quintessons which Sentinel ended up doing by making Cybertronians mine for it. Primus also probably made the mountains move while the group was on the train because we later learn it was full of Energon and not waste like Elita initially thought. Primus has been trying to undermine Sentinel’s plans all this time but probably couldn’t do too much damage as he didn’t want to hurt innocent Cybertronians in the process. And another thing to add is the fact that it looks like the planet itself is moving after Orion was dropped by D-16/Megatron so that Primus himself would bring him to the planet’s core and bring him to life as Optimus Prime because he knew the young miner was worthy of the Matrix.

I’m pretty sure Jazz became one of the first Autobots because he wanted to show his appreciation to Optimus for saving his life earlier in the film.

I like to think the reason why B talked so much in One was probably to make up for the fact that he barely talked at all in previous TF films. Though, there is another theory going around that in the next movie, the filmmakers are planning to make him mute which is why he talks alot in One. I seriously hope that WON’T happen because I’m sick and tired of Bee losing his voice so often. I know some later shows have avoided this, namely Robots in Disguise (2015) and EarthSpark, but I would seriously love the films to follow the same example.

Overall:

I love this movie a lot. I’m pretty sure if this was my first time seeing it instead of Bumblebee (2018) I think this would’ve altered my brain chemistry as much as that film did. If you haven’t seen this movie go watch it and if you have, go see it again. I WANT this movie to do well in theaters and not be a failure. The fact that it took us this long to get a film that captures the Spark of Transformers and be something both fans and newcomers can enjoy is nothing short of a miracle. We need Hasbro and Paramount to know this and Bumblebee are the kind of content we want to keep seeing and not the same movie with “Bayhem” over and over again.

Thank you. I’m already writing another blog about this movie soon. It’s going to be about why TF: One is a better Wish movie than Wish (2023). Trust me, it’ll make sense once I post it. XD

Keep on Writin’ and Rockin’

[97keanu]

Digital Angel

Premise: In chapter four, we finally reconcile these two nerds into speaking again. A new deal is struck, and our two hackers might just be able to find love along the way. That is, if Neo can quell his new obsession with watching you without your knowledge…

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Slowburn, eventual smut, loser!neo, perv!neo, goth!reader, hacker!reader, reader is trying to forget Neo existed, Neo is not going to let that happen, enemies to friends to lovers, stalking, obsession, themes of loneliness and longing.

Words: 2.4k

Read chapters 1-3 here! Be added to Neo’s taglist here!

Last night’s rain has begun to tame the heat of Chicago, which you now walk down without a care in sight. You bounce on platform heels that come up just under your knees, hair teased to delightful extremes, and a black lipped smirk that has strangers moving out of your way. You were sick of being holed up in your apartment for so long, waiting on some half assed ‘knight in shining armor’, or should you say, trench coat. Even though it still hurt that Neo ghosted you, after a few weeks, you had to move on. It was more important than any hacking case he sent you tonight, you needed to feel like yourself again, first and foremost.

You enter Club Hel and greet the bouncer, who of course asks where you have been. You shrug and give a nonchalant answer before moving towards the call of the dance floor inside. Nine Inch Nails blasts through the speakers, Reznor whispering all sorts of filthy things he would like to do to all who can listen. You find the beat in your body and join the other gothic souls trying to get lucky on a Friday night.

You grind into a girl who has bright purple hair and a lip piercing, she laughs along with you as you kiss along her neck and hold her hips into yours. Tonight was all about having fun, you’ve decided. Not to think about Neo and his stupid cute face and the way he has avoided you for so long. You instead, turn your attention to feeling the fishnets on the thighs of the girl dancing with you, and soon enough the wind changes and you’re happily dancing with someone else.

That’s what you liked about being here. That you were so free. Free to do what you pleased, enjoy others' company without even saying a word, perhaps even quell that deep pit of loneliness that has opened inside you with a kiss from a stranger. You do just that as someone else pulls you in, letting their drunken lips taste yours, red lipstick meeting your black ones.

You have no idea that while you forget your inhibitions, the person whose attention you want most is watching from the balcony…

———

Neo knew you were coming out tonight. He saw you getting ready through your webcam, and broke down and checked your IM’s to see where exactly you would be. That’s why he’s standing here, holding some kind of red liquid he doesn’t even really want to drink in a cheap black goblet. He leans his elbows on the balcony’s edge, looking down at the dance floor, watching as your lips connect with another’s. A part of him is pissed seeing this kind of behavior. He wants you all to himself, that much he has come to understand. The other part of him is turned on by watching your form move, tight black latex dress holding your curves better than any dance partner, the color glistening under the red lights.

Neo knows what he has to do. He has to get your attention, but he was never a good dancer. Or at least, he had never tried, he should say. This type of crowd was a place he had never been invited to before you, so the idea of going down there, working his way through the sweaty bodies, until he could plant himself there to grind against your lovely form, was a nightmare. He tried not to let his nerves get to him, instead watching you.

Despite initial jealousy, he knows he can’t be mad since you two aren’t officially dating, nor have you been on an official date whatsoever, no thanks to him. He was the one who got scared, who got too close to your flame that the warmth frightened him off. What could he expect from you? To have you wait forever? You were never the type, that much was easy to see. Instead, Neo finds himself appreciating that you kept doing what you do, being yourself in face of his rejection. It was really quite sexy actually.

He watches as you’re sandwiched between two other women, screaming out the lyrics to Love My Way by The Psychedelic Furs, full of life and laughter. Neo considers leaving, not ruining your night, letting you have fun with people your own age and all but forgetting about him besides the hacking projects you two complete together. Even that, he could try to turn away from, if it meant you more happiness. It was clear how down the whole situation had made you, too many nights spent all alone in your room, too many nights coming home early when you should have been out.

Letting you go would be the right thing to do.

But Neo has never done the right thing when it comes to you.

———

Your fair share of drinks have been bought for the night, and you feel the world around you move hypnotically. Your thoughts are lost in heavy bass and droning music, songs that you love coming on so you can shout your heart out without shame. You had almost forgotten that hole in your heart that had been consuming you the past few weeks.

That was until you felt a new pair of hands snake around your hips, fingers enjoying the feeling of the latex on your dress. You grind into the stranger as you have been doing, letting them feel your ass against them. To your surprise, they react differently than the other club patrons have been to such a move. Usually, you were being fondled and groped deeper when you invited it in such a way, but instead, the fingers of this stranger linger, slowly moving down your dress to touch your exposed thighs, almost marveling at how soft your skin feels there. Everything was perfect until you turned to see who this unusual, mysterious stranger was, your drunken eyes going wide with the sight.

There, in his best gothic attire(which wasn’t saying much), stood Neo. You looked into those dark eyes of his and could see there was caution there as well, as if he was unsure of how you would react to finding out your dance partner for the last minute or so was him.

“What are you doing here?” You blurt out over the speakers, confusion bringing your thin eyebrows together.

“Only place I knew you frequented.” He responded plainly, walking a bit as if to offer to find a better place to speak, knowing that a talk was in order.

You watch as he begins to move through the crowd of writhing bodies, and for a second you consider not following, letting him go after how cruel he’s been to you. Instead, you stomp after him on your platforms, wobbly after so many drinks.

You feel frustrated as he moves from you, making you physically chase after him now, not to mention ruining your night of fun away from thoughts of him by simply just being here. You two finally make it to a nearby booth, a few discarded drinks still sitting there, but Neo moves them to the side. You sit across from him, your chest bared and waist tight from your latex dress, putting you on almost full display in front of him. You hope he doesn’t think you dressed this way just for him to see.

“Look, I think an apology is owed…” He begins, looking around as if he’s nervous to be seen talking to you.

You almost scoff in his face. Who does this guy think he is?

”Um, yeah, I think it is,” you say bluntly, the liquor making you madder than you probably have a right to be in this situation. “You totally ran out on me.”

Once again, the thought that you two aren’t officially dating, so he doesn’t technically owe you anything as such crosses your mind. You throw that thought to the wind, you’re too pissed to care about the ethics of it all.

Neo hears your words, the tone in your voice, and looks down, fiddling with a black napkin that was sitting nearby. He opens his mouth to speak, his shoulders moving towards his ears as if to protect himself. He doesn’t know what to say, that much is clear.

“I just…” He tries to get out, but nothing more passes through his soft lips.

“Just? Just what Neo? Didn’t care if it hurt that you left without saying anything? Didn’t even want to come check on me at all? Just want to order me around to help you with your hacking, which I still haven’t seen a lick of pay from by the way.” You add the last part as an insult to injury here, crossing your arms underneath your breasts with a huff.

Not checked on you? If only you knew…

Neo clears his throat and puts a hand into the inner pocket of his trench coat. He pulls out a small, black bag. He passes it over the expanding space between the two of you on the table, then taps his fingers against it.

You say nothing, taking the bag and opening it. It was filled with cash, and from your short look through, enough to cover your rent for a few months or more. It was fair, for the work you’ve been doing. Your eyes glance up to where he sits nervously across from you.

“So, what? You grind up on me in the club just to hand me what you owe?” You say with snark.

“Hey, I seem to remember it was you who was doing the grinding.” He pipes back, holding up his hands in defense.

And in that second, you’re drunk enough to laugh out loud at the look on his face and the whole situation. This seems to calm his nerves for a second.

“Well, thank you, I guess,” You finally say, getting ready to stand and leave, seeing as there isn’t much else to talk about if he isn’t willing to talk about it.

As your hand moves across the table when you try to leave, Neo’s large one wraps around your wrist.

“Wait,” He starts, deep eyes looking into yours, a sense of pleading coming from him.

“You have every right to be mad at me. I shouldn’t have left when I did, and I especially should have reached out to you for more than just work after that night. I’m sorry.” He closes his eyes as he talks, as he’s afraid to see what your face will betray to him from being so open.

You say nothing, watching his eyes open, unable to contain seeing your reaction for that long, and you crack into a smile.

“Okay, okay. You’re forgiven,” You sit back down across from him. “But, I want to add a condition to our agreement.”

Neo nods along as you talk, almost ready to agree to whatever terms and conditions you have so long as you’re not mad at him anymore.

“And that condition is?” He says with wide eyes.

”That condition is,” You drag the moment out, looking down at the table before the confidence to say what you want comes. “I want us to be friends.”

Neo blinks, then blinks again, as if he hadn’t heard you right.

“Friends?” He says, as if the word is a foreign concept.

“Yep,” You say with a nod, holding out a black manicured hand across the table. “Friends. I want us to be able to talk to each other whenever we like without all the awkwardness. And I would appreciate it if we could go and hang out with each other sometimes.”

Neo’s hand nervously slides into yours, as if he’s afraid of what he’s gotten himself into.

“Go out together, sure, we could do that sometime.” He says, then looks down at the table. “But why?”

Now, it’s your turn to be confused.

“What do you mean?” You tilt your head, curious as to why he would ask such a thing.

“I mean,” He sighs out, then looks around again before speaking, then leans in. “I mean, why do you want to hang out with me? I’m hardly the type you usually go for if your dance partners for tonight were any hint.”

“I don’t ask my dance partners to go out with me during the day…Usually.” You say with a laugh, trying to make him understand that what happens here isn’t as deep of a connection as he thinks it is.

“But, I’m like ten years older than you, at least. And I’m not super into all this,” He waves a hand to the environment around him. “Goth-y kind of stuff. Not that there’s anything wrong with it…”

“I’m sure there’s a baby bat hiding in you somewhere, Neo.” You tease him, leaning forward as you speak. “Besides, I don’t care if you like the stuff I like. I just want someone to talk to…”

You don’t know if it was the liquor that made you comfortable enough to say that last part, or if your overwhelming need for true connection had finally come to a head, but you’re glad you said it. After you did, Neo sank back into the booth, thinking the whole thing over, before leaning in once more.

“Okay. Friends. I think I can manage that…” he says with a smile, a genuine smile that sneaks up to his eyes, makes his ears move with a tinge of delight at the concept.

“Friends it is.” You hold out a hand, and he takes it once more. “Now, as friends, let’s get our ass out on that dance floor!”

You yell with glee as Neo lets you pull him along back into the crowd, anger in each other forgotten. The promise of having a genuine connection with someone in this city was enough to sedate both of you into a more blissful night.

Still, you couldn’t help but kick yourself a little. You knew you wanted to be more with him, knew that you touched yourself just last night thinking of him, his name falling off your lips sweet like honey. But there was no way you could admit that this early. You still had no idea if he felt the same way.

[baddybaddyadardaddy]

a knife in the dark, pt. 2

[adar/oc]

read: part 1

Set in the "Awake, Arise"-verse (I'd recommend reading at least chapters 1-9 if you haven't already to get the history of these characters) PREMISE: Erenyë is reembodied in Valinor, but Mandos shrouds her memories of Utumno, hoping to spare her pain in her new life. But she is restless in Aman, sensing that something is missing... She boards a ship heading for Middle Earth, hoping to discover just what that is.

How could he know her name? How could he possibly know her name?

She recoils, dragging herself away from him, retching. There is a roaring in her ears—she feels an unrealness surrounding her, surrounding them, alone in this ash-covered glen.

She knows she has precious few moments to decide what to do; the blow she’d dealt, while hard, will not be enough to keep him unconscious for long.

With great effort, she drags him toward a scorched but yet still sturdy-looking tree and binds him with a length of elven rope Telemnion had given her before they’d set out from Pelargir.

That task complete, she scrambles a safe distance away, crouching in the dust, eyes fixed upon his twisted face. The oncoming dawn paints him with its cold light, and she studies him, every contour, every jagged scar, as though expecting to find answers written across his skin.

But she does not receive answers—only a jumbled mess of images and sensations that seem foreign to her mind but strangely at home in her body, as though her very bones remember them.

A voice—that shares his same tone and timbre—speaking a broken, bastardized language… twisted things, whispering in the dark… green eyes above her, eyes that mean home, but a home to which she can never return—they can never return.

The longer she studies him, the clearer one single picture becomes. She remembers his face, his eyes, swimming just above her, filled to their depths with anguish… and she remembers pain. A body-breaking pain, impossible to be captured by a scream. Her hands move automatically to her abdomen, the place from which it radiates. She does not understand, she cannot make any of it make sense.

She wraps her arms around herself, shaking, as he stirs across the glen.

His head lolls back against the tree, leaving his throat exposed. A pained, plaintive sound passes through his lips, and without warning, she imagines him beneath her, writhing in anticipation, his head thrown back against soft grass as she seeks with her lips for the place just above his clavicle, the one that makes him shudder in bliss—

No. She shudders. Not imagines. Remembers.

He lowers his head, reclaiming more of his consciousness. The sun is stronger now, and a soft, golden light begins to fill the clearing.

She has never seen him in sunlight. She knows that fact to be true. They had existed in darkness together—first a peaceful one, and then one that was wholly evil one. But how—when?

“Why do I remember you?” The question bursts forth with urgency.

He makes no answer, but a glassy sheen appears over his eyes, and with a shock, she realizes that he is on the edge of tears. At the sight of his distress, her feet move of their own accord—the need to go to him is a reflex over which she has no control.

As she draws near, she abandons any certainty she has ever had in her life, about her life. For she feels it now, greater than ever—this magnetic pull toward him, something that she knows she cannot fight. Yet she still cannot bring herself to trust it fully, and she maintains her firm grip upon the dagger.

He drops his eyes as she stands over him, and strands of his long, dark hair fall across his face, obscuring his countenance from her.

Frustrated, she moves the tip of the dagger under his chin, tipping his head back up, forcing him to meet her gaze. She is taken aback by just how haunted he looks. Could it be, she wonders, that he, too, is an equal party to the mystery at hand?

But as the moment lengthens, she reads a knowing look in his mournful, tear-stricken eyes, and an emotion that she would only describe as shame—and she concludes that he must know some awful truth about whatever it is that connects them.

Impatience overtakes her, and her own irate tears begin to prickle. “Tell me who you are,” she demands. “Tell me why I have these terrible memories… these visions of darkness and pain. You were there—why were you there?” Her voice breaks as her hand again moves to clutch at her stomach, as that throbbing, phantom agony returns. “How do you know my name?”

His eyes follow the movement of her hand, and his grey skin turns pale white.

“No,” he moans in horror. “That cannot be all you remember.”

She kneels before him, desperate, keeping the dagger poised at his throat as her other hand moves to grip him roughly by the neck. She puts her lips close to his ear, all but snarling the words.

“Tell me what you did to me.” She digs her fingernails into his flesh as hard as she can—ready to claw the answer out of him if she must.

He leans into the pain, pitifully, his face coming dangerously close to hers. “It was him,” Adar rasps. “He broke us both. He ruined our bodies and our minds….”

“Who?”

“Morgoth.”

She recoils, gasping at the name of the black foe, the one she’d heard spoken in hushed whispers in the streets of Tirion.

Adar weeps freely now, tears cutting tracks through the ash and dust upon his face. “He took us… his servants stole us from our home.”

“My home is in Valinor, in the Blessed Realm,” Erenyë retorts, but even as the declaration leaves her lips, she feels the unsteadiness of the statement, as the foundations beneath her world begin to crack.

“Your home,” his voice breaks. “Was Cuiviénen.”

@catz4ever @toddthekiwibird @eowyn7023 @mylovelylittleobsessions SPICY TIME COMES NEXT I PWOMISE!

[canarydarity]

(Happy Team Rancher week!! :D this is for today, the last day, AU fest. this is an au that I've had on the back burner for a while, but its for a ya book series I read in middle school and absolutely adore, and so I'm really glad I was able to finish this scene up and get it out here for the event!! The very basic premise is that Tango, Impulse, Skizz, and Etho are students at a teenage spy school. On their first ever field training mission, Tango meets Jimmy. Exceedingly, exceptionally normal Jimmy. Enjoy :) <3)

Hermitville looked as if every store-front was painted neatly on wooden slats and propped up from behind by a 2-by-4, its display perfectly weathered and distressed to look as if you could turn the cardboard handle and walk through the door of a family-run business, 75 years strong. But the fact was that you actually could do that—these were real stores in a real town, no matter how striking their resemblance to the set of every small-town-America movie in the world, ready to be broken down and disposed of to make room for the next.

The phenomenon was always made worse by how little Tango actually entered the town despite living 12 miles down the road from it. Its existence was just close enough to feel, parsable from the air like the scent of rain off asphalt, and simultaneously far enough to be alien to him, made all that much weirder by its small town charm, suffocatingly mundane and unconditionally normal. No strings, no contingencies, no Christmas dinners interrupted by last minute covert missions to foreign embassies. 

There were string-lights hanging between the lamp-posts, it was cute. Tango felt unbelievably itchy. 

The comm in his ear crackled. “How ya doing up there, Legacy?” 

Skizz sounded like he was enjoying himself entirely too much. It made Tango grumble a little under his breath, not caring if it was loud enough for the comm to pick up or not. Maybe if he was lucky, the others would attribute it to static. 

Or maybe they’d attribute it to Etho, giving he whined back, “I hate that code name.”

“Okay, Prodigy.” Tango cut in, knowing Etho would hate that one equally as much if not more. What could he say, he gets bitchier when he’s grumpy, and wandering around in the cold stuck in the state of perpetually failing his first CoveOps mission was certainly doing it for him. 

“Tang—”

Maybe he went a little too hard, though, if he got Etho to break protocol and use his real name over what technically counted as a confidential communications outlet. Oops.

“Tango,” Impulse interrupted—not overly-peeved enough at his friend to use his real name, just equally as hopeless when it came to CoveOps to the point he likely forgot they were supposed to be using code names in the first place. “Where are you, I lost you again.” 

Tango didn’t have to turn around and face the direction he’d last seen Impulse to be able to picture the frown that he absolutely wore. Besides, that would give up his cover, and staying hidden—unmemorable, ignorable, unnoticeable, any of those were fine—was just about the only field trait Tango had. 

“Over by the bank, Impy.”

“Well, wave your arms or something.”

Tango nodded at an old lady who was walking down the sidewalk in the opposite direction of him, glaring like they were in a store and Tango was sweating carrying too large and heavy a bag as he suspiciously made his way toward the door. She glared harder at his attempt of being polite and turned her head away as they passed one another by. Tango just really couldn’t get enough of that small town charm. 

When she was behind him he dropped the grin and responded, “That kind of defeats the purpose, now doesn’t it?” 

What could’ve been a break of static but was probably Impulse groaning cut through the comm and Tango winced. At least he was good at getting passed by, he imagined Impulse was failing to do even that at the moment. “Well, how am I supposed to follow you following Doc if—”

“He’s flipping,” Etho cut in, and Tango didn’t glance to the left at the park where Doc—their certifiably batshit insane countries of the world professor—was currently using every trick he’d ever been taught on how to lose a tail; not that he knew he was being tailed, he was just that vigilant. Constantly. Cause that was how every normal and well-adjusted person lived their life. 

Instead, Tango kept walking the way he’d been going, stopped to look both directions before crossing the street, approached the closest vendor and bought himself the first thing on the menu without stopping to look at what it was. 

Why on Earth Professor Beef thought the best way to ease them into the field of Covert Operations was to assign them to tail their most paranoid and least sane staff member was beyond him. He could imagine what Beef would say if Tango dared question this decision of his out loud: well you don’t have to get it, you just have to do it. Yipee, he was so glad to be taking this course. 

He couldn’t look for Doc, so he looked for Etho instead. He scanned the street, the sidewalk—hell, even the rooftops—but there was no sign of him. He was that good. 

Show-off, Tango thought as the vendor whistled to get his attention and he turned back with a smile and a thanks accepting a corndog. Nice. 

Tango headed off again, this time towards the park, the direction Doc had been going in, presumably, before he’d flipped. He saw Skizz amidst a sea of letterman jackets, smiling and laughing and miming throwing something with his hands; the crowd he’d accrued laughed with him, boys of all shapes and sizes slapping each other on the arm and guffawing over a guy they would all swear later that they’d had to have had a class with at some point. 

Their methods were different, but it was undeniable—mission one, and Skizz and Etho were good at this. They’d all known they would be. 

Tango wandered around for a while longer, ate his corndog and listened to the chatter of his fellow operatives over the comms, always keeping their updates on Doc’s position in mind and staying busy as he steered clear enough as to not get noticed but close enough he could keep his options open should an opportunity arise. 

In theory, the mission was simple: what soft drink did Professor Doc like to drink with his funnel cake at the Hermitville fall carnival? In practice, it was a lot harder than it looked. They’d all been students of Doc’s for almost 5 years, and while this meant they might know him well enough to predict his patterns in what was maybe a reasonable way, it also meant he knew them well enough to call out their first and last name if he spotted them—and to skip the questioning portion of the interrogation in favor of going directly into doling out detentions. 

This was their professor who used a trusted—and highly confidential—surgeon to give him a new face before the start of every school year for the sake of avoiding some long list of threats still interested in apprehending him that he constantly alludes to but never explains. And Beef wanted them to tail him. It’s not like they had any chance to succeed. And Tango was missing Below Deck for this.

The carnival was beginning to thin out, slowly, by the time anything interesting had begun to happen—at least to Tango. The square had one of those large metal things that looked like a lamp-post but actually had a giant clock in the center, and based on the last time he’d seen it and his impeccable internal clock, it could only be nine-fifteen p.m. It was like this place couldn’t get any more boring if it tried. Tango couldn’t stand it. Tango was jealous. 

He was cutting through the alley behind the town’s lonely diner, heading towards Skizz’s last known location, and was about to throw a line out over the almost eerily empty silence of his comm when Skizz spoke first. Something about the sound of his voice nagged at Tango, and it occurred to him before he opened his mouth to respond that he’d heard Skizz speak out loud, not directly in his ear. 

A second later, and it wasn’t just Skizz. At the first raise of Doc’s voice, Tango stopped walking and leaned as hard as he could into the brick. “I don’t even want to know how you got out and—actually, how did you get out?”

Tango only spent a moment questioning whether or not he was about to make a mistake before he leaned towards the edge of the alley until he could get enough of a picture of what was going on. Doc’s back was to him—thank god—but Skizz and Impulse were done for, the two of them sitting on a bench before their increasingly irate professor. Skizz was at his most diplomatic, sitting still and face severe with the kind of look that said I am listening to you and I understand. Impulse was cringing so hard at the having-been-caught that his left eye looked swollen shut.

Skizz raised one of his hands to halt Doc’s tirade—a risky move, but if anyone could pull it off it was Skizz. “Professor, if you’d just let me explain—”

“Explain what!” Tango winced with his friends in solidarity, even though he wasn’t the one getting reamed. “You’ve been following me for thirty minutes, which means you have to be—wait,” Doc said, as if a thought had suddenly occurred to him. “Wait a minute—where’s Beef?”

Tango watched as Skizz and Impulse—spies in training, yes, but still teenage boys at heart—shared a look with each other that gave away exactly what Doc needed to know. Skizz said: “Why I don’t know what you could mean, Professor, we were just—”

“Oh you—” From behind, Tango watched Doc shake his head to cut Skizz off, and then he did something kind of miraculous: he turned and tossed something—something shining and made of brown glass, something suspiciously bottle shaped—into the closest trash can. “Go on, now. Back, back to where you came from.” 

Tango stared at the garbage that couldn’t be more than twenty feet from him, even as Doc herded two of his best friends off of the bench and on into the night, the vague direction of the mansion; in his peripheral Skizz turned to glance at Doc and open his mouth, one more attempt at reason, before Doc departed one more and I’ll be giving you an extra credit assignment to really complain about. 

Tango honestly wasn’t even sure they were out of sight by the time he left the wall and the relative safety of the alleyway, not even considering the risk as somewhere inside he reeled at the thought it couldn't possibly be this easy. As he crossed the street, half of him expected to get scruffed by the back of his shirt and dragged all the way to his dorm, the other half expected to look inside and find the bottle to already be gone, even though his eyes hadn’t left the can, and for Etho to wander out of some shadow with it already in his hand. But the street was blessedly, amazingly quiet the whole time Tango made his way over. 

The garbage can was mostly empty even though the town had just had a carnival—because of course it was, towns like this probably didn’t produce any trash at all, Tango should’ve goddamn known—meaning Tango had to brace one of his arms on the lip of the metal can and hop slightly with his other arm outstretched to grab the bottle and pull it safely out of the trash. 

The condensation had made the paper labeling start to peel away in places, but the brand was still, for the most part, entirely legible—their mission was complete, and by Tango no less. He couldn’t wait to get back and rub it in Etho’s face. 

Tango tossed the bottle in the air and caught it, mood turning around for the first time all night—not even the 12 mile walk home in the dark could daunt him now. 

He turned around to begin his trek and found himself instead frozen immediately to the spot. 

There was a boy. 

Across the street, paused in the middle of the sidewalk and staring right at him, was a boy. And he’d seen Tango. 

Tango, whose only natural talent in CoveOps was going unnoticed. Tango, whose codename was cipher, after a joke Impulse made about his tendency for hiding in plain sight. Tango, who’d just rooted around in the garbage for someone else’s trash. 

The boy stopped to look both ways before crossing the street, even though it was now almost 9:30 pm and seemingly passed town curfew by how empty it’d gotten. There were no cars by sight nor by sound on this road or any of the surrounding blocks, but the boy looked to his right, then his left, then his right again before stepping off the concrete and onto the asphalt. There was even a moment of pause when his foot touched down on the road, and a slight furrow to his brow that had Tango imagining him thinking but there’s no crosswalk here! 

A better spy might’ve done something else—found the closest out, used the perfect excuse or expertly timed joke—but Tango just stood there, and watched the boy approach. 

“Hi there,” he said, a slight Virginia twang to his words that really drove home the all-American look about him, the swoopy blonde hair and lithe but athletic build—perfect for winning throws at football games or moral-gathering posters of government propaganda. 

“Do you….dig through trash cans often?” The prom king illusion shattered immediately as the boy cringed and shook his head, descriptive adjectives like polished becoming more awkward, perfect turning into endearing. “No—that sounded rude, I’m so sorry, I meant it as more of a joke, really…an unfunny one, I guess.” The rounder part of his cheeks pooled, filled deeply with blush. 

Tango opened his mouth, unsure what he planned to say, but then the boy went, “Oh my gosh, not that I judge that—or, well, maybe a little. But I—I’m sorry, and I shouldn’t, that’s wrong and, and—“ he paused abruptly, his head clearly moving faster than his mouth, the level of disaster that was this conversation running away from him and seeming far worse than it was when it’d started. 

“There are nicer trash cans, even,” He said when he opened his mouth again, and Tango nearly lost his mind, turned his laugh into a cough and wondered if all exceedingly normal people were so…cute. “Closer to the center of town. I can…show you where those are instead, if you prefer?” 

Tango couldn’t help his smirk. “You offering to take me on a tour of the nicer trash cans in town?” 

“I—“ Tango watched the boy's face buffer as all the things he just said caught up to him, and he looked down, bashful. After a moment, he smoothed out the embarrassment like wrinkles on fresh sheets and looked back up at Tango confidence renewed. “That or a milkshake, maybe?” 

The boat had stopped rocking, they’d made it to solid land, and the conversation righted itself and worked its way towards something normal—or at least, what Tango thought normal was supposed to look like. He’d never been asked something so simple as would he like to get a milkshake with a cute and utterly mundane boy. 

Things that Tango most definitely was not. His cover, on the other hand…

Right, his cover. In a logical and completely sane move, Tango blurted out, “I have a cat.” 

The boy blinked a blink that pushed his whole head back an inch from its force. “Ex…cuse me?” 

“I have a cat,” Tango repeated, begging his brain to fill him in on the rest of the reasoning behind why he said this particular thing at this particular moment. Were cats deathly allergic to milkshakes, or something? Well, screw his imaginary cat, Tango wasn’t! 

He said: “She…likes to play with bottles. I kinda grab them whenever I can.”

“Etho!” He added, and then mentally slapped himself upside the head. This was precisely why he wasn’t supposed to be anywhere near field work. “That’s my cat’s name, yup! Mhm, so, I’d take you up on that, but—“

“But you have to get back to your cat?” The boy said, his cheek bunched under one of his eyes like he wanted to believe that but had heard one-too-many a ridiculous excuse before and wasn’t quite sure. 

“Exactly.” Tango let out a breath. Jesus Christmas this was hard—where the hell was Skizz when Tango needed him? Oh, right. This was not at all how the night was supposed to go.

Conversation lapsed, but Tango failed to notice his opportunity for an out. The spy in him knew deep down that this was his chance to leave, to apologize for the lack of a milkshake and laugh off the fumble that was their interaction and begin his long walk back to school, knowing by the time the boy god home he’d forget all about having met Tango at all; the teenager in him stared at the freckle at the inner corner of the boys left eye. 

“Sorry, you’re new around here, aren’t you?” 

Tango continued staring. This was the third time the boy had apologized. 

“What makes you say that?”

“I’ve lived here…all my life?” His voice lilted higher at the end, almost like he was posing a question rather than making his case. “Everyone here has lived here all their life and I’ve…never seen you before.”

Tango has too, in a way. Home was a complicated concept for a spy; he may not be one yet, but his parents were—he knew enough to understand. It wasn’t like his childhood went untouched from the transient nature of spy work, a suitcase and go-bag always ready by the door. Even if he was the one being left and not the one doing the leaving, Tango knew flexible, he knew inconsistent. 

For years his most stable constant had been school, his mom in the headmasters office, Skizz Impulse and Etho. Where was home but here? 

He couldn’t say that, that wasn’t the cover. After years of being told I’ll be back soon with no indication of when soon was and little clarification of back from where and absolutely zero certainty that was something that could be promised, Tango resented lying. He wasn’t meant to be forming covers—he was meant to be locked in a lab somewhere, but one term of CoveOps at the start of sophomore year was a requirement. A requirement Tango would have to get through. 

Tango had never seen the boy before either. He didn’t know how to respond. 

“But, hey, I guess I’ll be seeing you around? At school?”

“No!”

The word was short and sweet, one syllable, something if the rampant apologizing was any indication the boy had not insignificant experience hearing. But his head tilted on the axis of his chin, lilting higher into the air and away from the middle of his chest—the dog that thought it’d heard a word it knew and was trying to determine if it was of the good or bad variety. “…No?”

Tango cringed. Probably visibly. “I’m…homeschooled,” was the lie, this time. 

“Oh, alright,” Tango hoped the drop in his tone was disappointment and not disbelief. He hoped the boy blessedly naive of the ways Tango was being false and not incorrectly assuming him indifferent to their chance encounter. 

Unwilling to bet on the chance and deeply reluctant to do what he knew a good spy should—remembering too many holidays gone remiss, and birthdays of the ill-get-you-next-year variety—Tango said, “I’ll be around, though.” 

The boy brightened, one of those artificial lamps that mimics sunlight where sunlight doesn’t reach, from darkness to light in mere seconds—like it was simple, easy. Ill so readily forgotten. 

“Good,” the word was delivered with an amicable nod. “Better get home to Etho, then.”

There was a moment of pause as Tango prepared to exclaim Etho?!? Suddenly in fear that he’d somehow found the one normal boy who wasn’t normal at all and was actually some sort of enemy spy, Tango accidentally blubbering his way through giving up national secrets he didn’t even know he knew—and then he remembered what he named his fake cat. 

“Right! Etho, yes…right, gotta get back to,” —had he given his fake cat pronouns?!— “yup! Okay, bye then.” 

Tango turned with great effort, his eyes shut and the rational part of his brain begging him to get a grip, his hands clasped tightly around the slightly icky with condensation bottle of soda that he’d come here to claim and by some miracle had. He hadn’t gotten more than a step or two away before the boy called, “Hey, what’s your name?” 

And Tango made possibly the stupidest decision of the night—despite all the competition, that’s pretty impressive, he knows—and called back, “Tango.”

“It was nice to meet you Tango!”

Tango smiled over his shoulder at the boy, walking backwards down the road he’d been so cautious to cross before, wanton joy on his face and something Tango didn’t dare to name, hands in his pockets. “You too,” Tango laughed. 

“My name’s Jimmy, by the way!”

The comm in his ear crackled to life after too long staying suspiciously silent before Tango could do anything about that, and he heard what he knew to be Etho saying, “Cipher, meet me at the corner of Pine and Cherry.” 

The sobering bucket of ice water dumped on your head after a particularly rough all-nighter, Tango felt his nerves wake up one by one; his spine was suddenly straighter and everything a little more on edge than it’d been a few minutes ago. He resisted the urge to scan the roofs and the streets and the shadows. He ignored the shame that said he just got caught doing something he shouldn’t have been; he kind of already knew that, but something in him also wished this had just been for him. Bye Jimmy, Tango thought in reply before saying, “Yeah man, on my way.”

Forget milkshakes and normal boys, Tango had some bragging to do. Other than to resent lying, if there was anything being the child of spies taught him, it was how to mask disappointment. 

He turned the corner toward Etho without looking back. 

[eugenedebs1920]

So I’ve been researching voter suppression and was planning on writing a whole, overly long, data driven, boring diatribe (still might) when I ran in to this. Rep. Takano lays it out better than I could.

Here is House Committee on Veterans’ Affairs, Ranking Member Mark Takano addressing Republican Committee members when voting to subpoena the VA for documents regarding registering veterans to vote.

9/10/2024

“Good Morning and thank you. Prior to our January 11 vote to authorize a subpoena regarding documents in the Committee’s investigation into sexual harassment at VA, this Committee had not voted to issue a subpoena since 2016. 

 When I held the gavel during the last two years of the Trump Administration, this Committee did not issue a single subpoena. There were plenty of occasions we could have issued subpoenas for the sake of performance over real oversight, but we chose to put veterans over politics.  

We relied on the independence of the Inspector General to thoroughly identify and investigate wrongdoing, and we chose not to interfere with ongoing investigations to score press and media hits. 

Yet now, the Republican Majority this Congress has threatened to subpoena VA on at least a dozen occasions for its supposed failure to comply with the Majority’s impossible requests. This severely cheapens this Committee’s oversight authority.  

We have been through this exercise several times before under the current Majority, and the script is highly predictable.  

The Chairman makes a vague, onerous, and overly burdensome document request of VA with a purposely unmeetable deadline. VA produces documents in response to the request.  

The Majority doesn’t like the answer they receive, screams that VA failed to meet their unmeetable deadline and then threatens to, or in this case goes through with, issuing a subpoena to compel VA to produce documents they don’t have, are already trying to produce, or have already produced.  

The question we must ask is why we see such temper tantrums from our current Majority?  It is not out of an earnest desire to acquire information and hold VA accountable for its failings. No, clearly it is not. Rather, this subpoena resolution, and frankly the hearing that will follow, is a red herring meant to distract veterans from the truth: that this Republican majority has absolutely nothing to show for its time in charge other than chaos, dysfunction, and paranoia.  

I hope the veterans who are watching see this subpoena for what it is, an anti-democratic and purely political effort to stoke conspiracy theories and ultimately suppress efforts to help veterans and their caregivers vote. Why does the Majority want to suppress the votes of veterans and caregivers? We should want all veterans and caregivers to be able to vote. With how much control elected officials wield over veterans’ health care and benefits, the stakes are enormously high for veteran voters, and their voices should be heard. It is dumbfounding to me that my colleagues would take issue with veterans exercising their right to vote, a right they served and fought for and sometimes died to protect.  

The Heritage Foundation, the same organization responsible for Project 2025, is using the Republican-led committees across Congress to suppress voter access.  

They have literally published a public-facing memorandum outlining strategies to frustrate efforts to encourage Americans to exercise their fundamental right to vote.  

But what makes this subpoena particularly weird and confusing, is that its underlying premise is that VA should not promote veterans’ access to voting, though it has been VA policy to do so since the Bush Administration. This policy was most recently renewed during the Trump Administration.  

Even weirder, the law underpinning this policy and President Biden’s Executive Order has been in place for thirty years. The National Voter Registration Act explicitly allows states to request that federal agencies or non-governmental agencies accept the designation as a voter registration agency.  

Pursuant to this law, VA is partnering with the state of Michigan to be a voter registration agency, but VA has considered partnerships with Kentucky, Georgia, Hawaii, Pennsylvania, and Nevada to help veterans access the polls.  

Yet the Majority is insistent that VA’s efforts constitute electioneering or some sort of partisan political effort to affect voting in swing states and districts. How is registering veterans to vote, no matter where they are, inherently partisan or political?  

Through the partnership with Michigan, VA is providing voter registration assistance to veterans in very limited circumstances when processing a change of address or during a Public Contact Team appointment. VA employees were given training by state officials, which included a review of prohibited partisan political conduct while assisting veterans with registration as required by law.  

If my colleagues are so concerned with states and agencies following the letter of the National Voter Registration Act, why aren’t they spending their time repealing it?  Instead, my colleagues are attacking VA for helping veterans register to vote. They are making a mockery of the Committee’s subpoena authority to the most anti-democratic end I have ever witnessed on this Committee. And I am frankly appalled that they have decided to go to these lengths to serve their political aims. This is not Congressional oversight. This is voter suppression.  

In the hundreds of documents VA has already produced for the Majority, there is nothing to indicate that VA has violated the law in any way. The only thing I am concerned about in terms of VA’s actions here is why they are not doing more to register veterans to vote.  

Later this week Congress is voting on the SAVE Act, which requires proof of citizenship before registering to vote in federal elections.  The Majority has no credible evidence that foreign citizens are voting in federal elections; in fact, this is already an illegal practice.  

But this Majority has proven that it will never be deterred by facts or evidence, so it is no surprise they are going to plow forward with this bill. I am opposed to it and will be voting no. But what’s shocking is that in their rush to block people from voting, my colleagues on the other side of the aisle have decided that blocking veterans from voting is just as important as blocking undocumented immigrants.  This subpoena is a gross and obvious effort to stifle veteran voter registration. This is voter suppression.  

But again, it is also a red herring, a distraction from the Majority’s inability to lead, their inability to govern, and their inability to accomplish anything meaningful for veterans.  

I certainly do not have veterans banging on my door demanding to know why VA is helping veterans register to vote. However, I do have service members stationed overseas contacting my office saying that they need better access to voting – an issue I am working on. I also have veterans and their providers asking me what our plans are to ensure VA has the resources it needs to continue delivering health care and benefits to those who have earned them. So, I must ask who does this Majority serve – veterans or Project 2025?  

I also must ask, to what end is this exercise? I have yet to see my Majority colleagues produce any legislation that actually addresses the issues we’ve spent countless hours of Committee time considering in hearings to help improve VA.  

All I have seen is wasted time on deeply flawed bills that have no outlook for becoming law because they are Project 2025 pipe dreams that will do nothing to actually improve VA or help veterans.  

Mr. Chairman, using the subpoena authority of the Committee to investigate conspiracy theories is beneath us and should never be considered.  

The Committee must hold itself to the highest possible standard, because abuse of the subpoena for political gain – especially when it implicates fundamental constitutional rights – is a very real risk.  

 By fear mongering and stoking conspiracies that VA is doing something nefarious by registering veterans to vote, my colleagues are showing how little they trust veterans to actually exercise their right to vote. But I will say to veterans: I know how smart you are, and that you will see through the Majority’s partisan efforts.  

And I know how powerful you are as a voting bloc… I have seen it and felt it.  

It is important for everyone to participate in the electoral process, including veterans.  And I encourage my colleagues to vote NO on this subpoena resolution. With that, yield back.”

There’s one party in America that encourages the vote. There’s one who does all they can to suppress it. What side do you want to be on?

[gghostwriter]

Entangled Strings of Fate

Chapter 1. Lighting stuck (and was caught in a bottle)

Spencer Reid x FOC

Summary: Caltech, Pasadena - Cleo considers herself a woman of logic. With an IQ of 158 and an eidetic memory, how could she not. But meeting Spencer, the boy genius to hers, had her believing in intangible theories like the invisible string and the fates. Now, if only he would notice the depth of her feelings. Set in Caltech, pre-season 1 and will progress from there. previous chapter || series masterlist || next chapter

“Luck is not chance, it’s toil; fortune’s expensive smile is earned” - Emily Dickinson

The day started off beat when the alarm for her 8am class didn’t ring and it continued to snowball since then. Rushing out the door with a piece of bread in her mouth, her bag strap broke into two. The vending machine around the corner was out of order. She stepped on gum while brisk walking to her next class. And missed the chance to borrow the last book copy of a pre-requisite read for another class. In retrospect, these could all be the fates and time setting the scene. 

“Excuse me, I was told by the librarian you borrowed the last copy of The Origins of Totalitarianism?”

A pair of eyes looked up at Cleo blankly from his cluttered library desk by the window. He looked young, younger than any university boys she’d seen around the campus. Locks pushed behind his ears, he was pleasing to the eyes. If the academic genius was the type and it was true for her. 

Cleo found herself rambling under his scrutiny. “I know I’m not supposed to know who borrowed which book due to personal privacy and the librarian shouldn’t have have told me anything even with my incessant questioning but I really do need the book for a pre-requisite.” 

“Actually yes, you shouldn’t have been given access to library records or been privy to any of those information. But I do have the copy you’re looking for,” he pointed at the mentioned book from underneath a precarious book pile. 

“Is it possible for me to borrow the copy for a while?” 

Silence.

“At least right now? I can read through it quickly and never have it leave your area of premises,” she pleaded, sitting down at the empty chair in front of him. “Please and I’ll never bother you again after that.” 

He quirked his eyebrow up. “It’s a 579 page book. You can finish it in one sitting and not compromise retention?” 

“Well, I do read fast and have an eidetic memory.”

Cleo blushed and averted her gaze. She knew better than to brag about her skills that would get her labelled as a freak of nature but she was past the point of no return. Flashbacks of the high school teasing and gum in her hair incident whirled in her mind. It could have been worse if not for her older sister, Thalia, by her side. A 5’3” terror of a protector specially when Cleo accelerated from 1st year to 3rd year which was her sister’s grade. 

The young boy slid the battered copy to her view point. “I actually don’t need it back right away. It’s more of a light reading.” 

Her eyebrows rose with intrigue. Any run-of-the-mill university student wouldn’t consider this type of book a leisure read. “I’m Cleo, by the way. Cleo Murphy.” 

“Spencer. Spencer Reid.” 

“Well Spencer, I didn’t think anyone would consider Origins of Totalitarianism a great book to pass time with. None of any college boys I’ve encountered, any way.” She started, looking around the various books on the table—from Chemistry, to Philosophy, to fictional classics in its original language. “Which begs the question, are you a genius?”

“I don’t believe that intelligence can be accurately quantified, but I do have an IQ of 187, an eidetic memory—like you, and can read 20,000 words per minute,” he rambled on. “Yes, I’m a genius.” 

Cleo couldn’t help but be impressed with his response. It was commonly estimated that one of the greatest theoretical physicist to ever walked the Earth, Albert Einstein, had an IQ of about 160 and here was a modern day genius that beat one of the greats by a mile in numerical value. A proficient reader can read 280-350 words per minute without compromising comprehension and she herself can read 625-950 words per minute, a feat on its own, but here was someone who made that skill seem so ordinary. 

“You’re taking up Political Science as an undergraduate for law school, correct?” His intelligent hazel eyes locking into hers. “And a genius too.”

She smiled. “What made you say that?” 

“Well, you mentioned that this book is a pre-requisite for your class. You also used the term personal privacy, have an idea that library information should not be shared and apologized for it to cover bases. You’ve also hounded the librarian for those details, getting on her nerves similar to how lawyers hound information to get the court hearing outcome that they want,” he paused, tapping his finger on the table like he was in further in thought. “As for the genius commentary, you didn’t seem surprised when I mentioned my IQ. You also mentioned that you read fast, probably not as fast as 20,000 words per minute but faster than the average reader. An eidetic memory and based on your favorite character keychain hanging from your bag it looks to be more popular for a 13-15 year old than a university student so you graduated earlier than average.” 

“Everything was almost right. Except the keychain, it’s not my favorite. It’s my older sister’s,” she looked at the keychain on her bag and chuckled. “I’d like to guess you’re in Caltech for a Ph.D, your interests on reading is too varied to pinpoint what but I’d say you have a BA in Psychology with how you intellectually guessed me.” 

“It’s not an intellectual guess. It’s actually called profiling,” he clarified. “And I graduated with BAs in Psychology and Sociology, recently. Currently acquiring my PhDs in Mathematics, Chemistry, and Engineering concurrently.” 

“So you’re a sophophile?”

“I prefer the term polymath,” he stated as he closed the book in front of him, seemingly wanting to focus on the conversation at hand. “Sophophile isn’t really a proper term is it? I don’t think I’ve encountered it in the dictionary.” 

“It’s more of an urban dictionary term, from the Greek origin of Sophia—wisdom and philac—love.” She explained as the 3pm bell rang. “Well then Spencer Reid, I’d leave you to your readings. Do you want to meet up for coffee tomorrow by Cecile’s at 10am? It’s this hole in the wall coffee spot just around the campus block.”

Spencer opened his mouth, seemingly about to disagree.

“As a thank you for lending me the book, I mean,” she rushed out, stuffing the book inside her bag as she stood. “And I’d like to hear more about your eclectic taste of light reading.”

He smiled, a full grin lighting up his baby face. If she thought he was attractive before, it was nothing compared to when he smiled. He was beautiful. 

Heart threatening to jump out of her chest, Cleo felt the times were trying to mark this moment as significant. A moment now engraved in her own mind. A chance meeting that altered the course of her life here on Earth as she knows it.

“I’d like that.” He replied.

And as it were pre-destined, their red strings of fate intertwined. 

———

Cleo was woman of logic, always hated the unknown and where all the impossibilities may lead. That was what attracted her to law, in the first place. Everything is clean cut, written on a piece of legislation with corresponding violations should there be a breach in right or contract. She Also liked her order and structure, clearly seen adapted to her surroundings. Her small personal collection, brought from her home library, of books organized in a Dewy Decimal System. Her number of shoes beside the entryway arranged by type, color, and height. And her  clothing arranged in the same manner. Her roommate, Raina, once jokingly asked if she had ever gone to the doctor to get diagnosed for OCD. It wasn’t that really, it was more of a result to her rigid upbringing as a member of the upper echelons of society.

Meeting Spencer has thrown her life into chaos. Her bed was made, yes, but various pieces of clothing were haphazardly thrown all around it. She was undecided on what to wear, an inconceivable act from someone like Cleo. Was it too casual to wear her favorite jeans or was it too dressy to wear her green maxi skirt. An IQ of 158 and she was unable to answer such a simple problem. Her phone rang underneath all her clutter, a reminder that she had 15 minutes left before the scheduled coffee meet. 

The walk to Cecile’s was an 8 minute walk, 6 minutes if she walked faster than usual. Which gives her a shy of 7 to 9 minutes to decide what to wear and exit her dormitory. She looked at the clock on her bedside table, 1 minute had passed since then. She sighed and reached for her own type of uniform—low rise jeans, long sleeve top, and her trusty black Converse—and she was out the door with 9 minutes to cover the distance. She disliked being late, no matter the setting, and from what she gathered Spencer was the same. 

Rounding the campus block, she spotted Spencer waiting outside Cecile’s. He had his hair, again, pushed behind his ears—possibly gelled slightly to stay in place. A polo tucked in his khaki pants that are slightly rolled to showcase his mismatched socks, scuffed black Converse, a light cardigan hanging on his wiry arms, and a brown satchel to finish the look. 

“Hey Spencer,” she greeted. Peeking at her wrist watch, she noted that she was right on schedule. A small success.

“Hi,” he greeted back with a his awkward smile and half wave of his hand.

As she stepped into the warm shop after him, she was greeted with the enticing smell of newly baked pastries and ground coffee. It was a Saturday, meaning the average university students were all asleep, hung over from Friday parties and booze. The shop was almost empty, sans one table being occupied by a staff. 

“So, what do you like? My treat,” she asked. No longer needing to look at the menu. This was her spot to decompress and people watch. Her order was always the same. She is ,after all, a woman of order and predictability.

“Just plain black coffee, filled only until a fourth of the cup.”

She thought that was an interesting choice of drink and specifications. She’ll have to ask him to explain that later on. She turned to face the cashier, a teenage boy with apparent bags under his eyes. “Hey Adam, one order of plain black coffee filled until a fourth of the cup and my usual, please.” 

“Hey Cleo, sure thing. My mom just baked a fresh tray of croissants, any interest on those?” He asked while ringing up her orders.

She laughed. “Like you’d need to ask, make it two for here and two to go.” 

“You didn’t have to buy me a croissant too, you know,” Spencer stated as they walked to the table by the window with their orders on hand. “The coffee is enough compensation for lending you the book.”

“I want to,” she insisted, sitting in front of each other. “Plus, the croissants here can rival the ones from Paris.” 

“Okay. But why two to go?” He continued to ramble on. “Scientifically speaking, pastries are best eaten after 20 minutes of cooling. They go through a process called starch retrogradation, with moisture from inside the pastry continuing to migrate outward and evaporate, leaving a moist interior and a nice crispy crust.”

“That may be true but those to-go pastries aren’t for me. They’re for my roommate, Raina, and he,” she pointed to Adam. “Is her boyfriend. Where’d you learn that interesting tidbit?” 

“From a pastry cookbook. I was trying to bake myself some pastries for whenever I need a sugar rush.” 

“You know how to bake? That’s charming,” she blushed. This specimen of a teenage boy couldn’t get any more perfect than he already was. “But I have to ask, why the specifics on your coffee order?” 

Spencer proceeded to scoop 7 spoonful of sugar to his coffee, seemingly showing her the answer to her question. 

With an eyebrow raised, she sipped her order—a flat white. That definitely answered her question. That much sugar added to coffee can have bad effects in the future, such as diabetes, when done regularly but she knew Spencer knew that so it was more a taste type of choice, she concluded as she slid the lent book across the table.

“Thank you again for letting me borrow the book,” she said. “It’s not my choice of light reading, per se, but it was a great read still.” 

“Then what would you consider as light reading then?”

She pondered over the question. With the large repertoire of books she has read ever since she was a kid, the inquiry was hard to answer with just one title. “It would depend on what I’m looking for really, definitely fiction, it is a great form of escape after all. If I’d want to stimulate my brain, I’d go for a mystery novel. If it’s for nights when I can’t fall asleep, The Little Prince in it’s original language always does the trick. And if it’s just to pass time, I’d say I gravitate towards contemporary fiction that tackles societal issues.” 

“You read in French?” He asked, clearly intrigued with the workings of her mind. 

“Oui, my family moved to France when I was a little girl due to business and my mother wanted me to learn French from the locals rather than subject me to non-native teachers. Do you also speak French?” It was also her mother who enrolled her to learn Russian, German, Italian and Spanish but she didn’t need to brag more than she already had.

He took a sip of his coffee and smiled. “I can read and understand French, Russian and Spanish but speaking it is a bit difficult. The accent comes off wrong and I’d like to think it’s because I have a lot of things to say so my pronunciation can’t keep up.” 

“I don’t see how that can stop you from speaking the language. If you’d like, we can talk to each other in French for your pronunciation practice,” she suggested. It was a great excuse to not lose connection with him. The boy who tugs at her heartstrings like no other. “Granted I can also communicate in Russian & Spanish but my accent for those two is a bit wonky at best.” 

Staring deeply into her eyes, she felt vulnerable and hoped that he couldn’t hear her heartbeat threatening to jump out of her chest.

“Oui, j’aimerais bien,” he replied. His accent sounding American still but Cleo thought it was cute nonetheless.

“Parfait,” she breathed out, unable to stop her large grin from spreading.