#the look in her eyes during the meeting with the white widow was just

[sophieseals]

My heart has been left on a bridge in Venice

[waltat04-kevinknight]

Just a sneak peek at a Jaune x Kali fic I'm working on

It was a somber day in Menagerie, as the previous white fang leader and loving husband was found dead with two sword stabs through his head. The entire nation was saddened and mourning the death of Ghira Belladonna. His now Widowed wife had locked herself away in her now empty estate and spent her days crying, that was until she heard a knock at the door. Getting up and walking to the door, she opened it and saw her daughter, and what she would assume was her friend.

“Oh hello Blake sweetheart and this is?” Kali asked as Blake looked at Jaune.

“Mom, this is Jaune, my friend from Beacon.” Blake replied.

“Hello Ms.Belladonna it's nice to meet you” Jaune says with a soft smile.

“Greetings Jaune, Blake I'm assuming you're here for your father's death..?” Kali asked, causing Blake to nod.

“I'm truly sorry to both of you for your loss” Jaune said, placing his hand on his chest.

“Thank you Jaune, I appreciate you coming along with me” Blake says walking inside her house leading Jaune in as well.

Kali led the two into the living room and sat down on the couch, while Blake and Jaune sat on the other couch.

“They still haven't found the murderer of Ghira all they know is that he was stabbed twice by a thin blade.” Kali says with a heavy sigh.

“What about Adam?” Blake asked.

“No he himself came forth and admitted that while he didn't agree with how Ghira ran things when he was in charge, he would never take Ghira's life.” Kali explains causing Blake to sigh and nod.

“Jaune, can you stay with my mom while I track down my father's killer?” Blake asked.

“Yeah of course, you focus on finding who took your dad's life” Jaune says as Blake hugs him.

The hug was short as Blake walked out of the estate and closed the door, leaving Jaune and Kali by themselves.

“I appreciate you staying with me Jaune.” Kali says, wiping a tear away.

“It's no problem Mrs.Belladonna, it's the least I could do” Jaune says, picking up a box of tissues and handing it to Kali, who would take a tissue and wipe her tears.

She smiles and throws the tissue in the trash can and looks back at Jaune, it takes a few seconds before she speaks again.

“Blake told me about how you lost someone during the Fall, are you doing alright?” Kali asked Jaune who was surprised by the question.

“I'm doing my best, it's all we can do. I'm not gonna say I'm over it but I have to move on someday.” Jaune says smiling.

Kali smiles back at him as she stands up and walks over to Jaune.

“I'll show you to the guest room.” Kali says walking to the hall, which Jaune follows her.

Once at the door Kali opens the door and Jaune walks in, setting his bag on the table. He looked around the room smiling and then turned to Kali. “Thank you Ms. Belladonna” Jaune says to her with a smile.

“Of course but please call me Kali” She says leaving the room and going to hers and once he was alone he laid down on the bed and fell asleep.

_________

A few days have passed Jaune helped comfort Kali with the passing of her husband and the two grew a small friendly bond, with Jaune cleaning up the estate and even cooking for Kali and himself. Jaune hummed as he walked past Kali's room and noticed the door was open and knocked on the door, which after a few seconds he was met by Kali. Wearing a nightgown.

“Oh hello Jaune what can I do for you?” Kali asked him with a soft smile.

“Sorry I saw your door open so I wanted to make sure everything was alright” Jaune says with a smile on his face.

“You're sweet” Kali says leaning against her door while staring into his eyes.

“By the way, Blake called saying she's made some headway into finding your husband's killer” Jaune says resulting in a soft smile from Kali.

“That's good” She says looking up at Jaune before looking away.

“No matter what I do Jaune, I can't stop thinking about Ghira…I miss him, I know I need to move on but-” Kali says before she stops feeling Jaune put a hand on her shoulder.

“No no I get it, it's going to be hard but I'll be here no matter what” Jaune says as Kali hugs Jaune tightly.

Jaune wrapped his arms around Kali as the two shared a tender deep hug for a few moments before they broke the hug off looking at each other.

“Jaune, would you mind staying in my room tonight? I could use the company” Kali asked him knowing he probably would say no and she wouldn't blame him if he did.

“Sure I-I don't mind” He said, which took Kali by surprise before she took hold of his hand and led him inside and closed the room door behind him.

Once inside the room he noticed how massive the bed was, then again Jaune remembered Blake told him how big and bulky her father was so his surprise quickly went away. Kali let go of his hand and sat on the bed and untied her robe letting Jaune see her lingerie nightgown making him blush and look away out of respect.

“Jaune, you don't have to look away” She said softly, “Please come and help me..~” She begged him.

“But you're Blake's mom I can't do that with you” Jaune says as Kali grabs his hand and pulls him on top of her.

“You promised you'd help me and what does your family never do?” Kali says, causing Jaune's eyes to widen.

“Never go back on a promise” He says making Kali smile.

“Besides, Jaune you've been nothing but help this past week…and I've couldn't take my eyes off you. I don't know why but you remind me of my husband in so many ways…” Kali says, placing her hands on his cheeks before pulling him in for a deep tender kiss.

Jaune didn't know how to respond until he found himself lost in the kiss as he moves his hands onto Kali's hips and turns causing Kali to down be on top of him as the two continue the tender kiss, while Jaune swirls his tongue around Kali's tongue starting to French kiss her. Kali was enjoying this, she didn't feel lonely anymore, she had someone here with her now and knew how to kiss so well. Kali would break the kiss and get off of Jaune still blushing as she bends over and takes off her lace lingerie panties revealing her slightly wet pussy to Jaune.

“C-Could you eat me out p-please” Kali asked shyly as Jaune stood up and walked over to Kali and put his hand on her kisses her neck while fondling her massive ass.

“Of course Kali” Jaune says guiding Kali back to the bed, laying her down and getting between her legs as he started to lick her milf pussy.

Once she felt his tongue lick her entrance she let out a breath while Jaune gripped her thighs and began to kiss, lick, and suck on Kali's pussy while Kali moaned loudly. He then mainly stuck to sucking on her clit as he shoved his tongue into her pussy making her squirm as she felt Jaune eat her pussy.

“F-Fuck I'm gonnn-!” She started moaning before she squirted over Jaune's mouth.

Jaune moves his lips away from her pussy and stands back up, a hard on in his pants in full view as he wipes his lips.

“T-Thank you for that J-Jaune” She says looking at him before her eyes notice his bulge in his pants.

She sat up and unzipped his pants and pulled down along with his boxers allowing his dick to fling out.

‘Oh God's his dick… it rivals the size and girth of Ghira's… and its scent’ she thought, smelling it as she could get enough.

She didn't wait as she shoved his dick into her mouth and began sucking like a rabbit in heat while she used one hand to jerk Jaune off while she gave him one wild blowjob. Jaune on the other hand bit his lip while watching Kali suck him off, the view of her big milkers bouncing only made him more horny for the Widowed milf. With her other hand she grabbed Jaune's hand and put it on her head, implying he wanted him to guide her, own her.

He put his other hand on her head and began thrusting, causing Kali to gag for a second before she adjusted to the speed Jaune was going at.

‘God's he's even rougher than Ghira was, he is perfect~!’ She thought to herself as she put her hands behind her head as Jaune kept thrusting using her mouth.

Jaune kept thrusting before he held her head against his lower area and cums in her throat and pulls his cock out of her mouth. Kali closes her mouth and swallows his cum and opens her mouth, sticking her tongue out seductively before closing her mouth again.

“Kali I want you to ride my cock and slam that fat ass on it until you can't no more” Jaune says sitting next to her well laying down next to her.

Kali felt herself get hotter from how he ordered her as she got on him immediately and lined his cock with her pussy and slid down on her as she shook her head while moaning loudly before slamming already down on his cock. She felt Jaune grab her head and pull her down into a deep French kiss as she started bouncing her massive ass on his dick just like he asked. She breaks the kiss as their tongues were inches apart as she stared into his eyes with a mix of lust and love while still slamming her pussy down on his dick, she could feel his dick stretching her more just making her bounce faster.

“F-Fuck fuck fuck fuck~!” Kali moaned as she kept riding Jaune's dick while Jaune moved his hands onto her hips making her bounce even more.

“Such an eager woman you are Kali” Jaune says as Kali had imaginary hearts in her eyes as she bounced even harder.

“Y-Yes I am~! Please fill. Me. up~!” She moans as she slammed down once more as Jaune moved his hands from her hips and back to her head and pulled her in for a kiss as he cums in her pussy, filling her womb up.

She slowly slides off his dick and gets off the bed and looks at Jaune's cum covered cock and bites her lip as she watches Jaune stand up and put his hands on her hips and kisses her, making him melt in his touch. She turns around and bends over placing her hands on the wall as she shakes her ass.

“Show me more fun… Daddy~” She said seductively as within a few seconds Jaune was behind her and shoved his dick back into her pussy, gripped her hips and began thrusting quickly and roughly.

Kali couldn't help but moan as Jaune used her pussy, and did she enjoy how rough he was being with her. She didn't care for soft sex she wanted it hard and rough, all boxes Jaune were checking.

“You're so wet, it makes it easier for me to rail this pussy made by the gods!” He moaned as he delivered a harsh smack to one of Kali's ass cheeks making it jiggle and Kali moan louder.

“Yes Oh God's fuck keep going~!” Kali moaned and Jaune did just that and kept thrusting like there was no tomorrow.

Jaune smacked her juicy ass once more, making her moan even louder as she looked back at him with a lustful seductive stare in his eyes. He kept thrusting and her stare only made him go rougher with her and after a few more moments he slammed against her cervix and cummed, filling her womb once again. He pulled out and back up falling onto the bed as Kali walked over to him and laid beside him and pecked his cheek and cuddled up next to him.

[writers-hes]

The Blind Man

You always knew Tommy as the cheerful boy who took care of you. He always knew you as the smart girl that he visited by the docks. The daughter of a prostitute, the son of a deadbeat father; a soldier who protected his country; a whore who protected him; a gangster who controlled Brimingham; and now, a wife. War changes people, you just didn’t realize that war could change you both. (angst, depictions of abuse, poverty, prostitution, canon-typical themes, death, war, time jumps, depictions of mental illness, abusive marriage)

They finally meet.

PART 1 / PART 2

PROTECTION SERIES TAGLIST | PROTECTION MASTERLIST navigation

BIRMINGHAM, 1919

There was nothing discreet with how you dressed. You were in all black, a black veil shielding you from the onlookers. Simon sent some money to Johnny’s wife, Beth, for a proper wake. His house was filled with white flowers and proper food. It’s the least he could do, that’s what he said. You were sitting beside the widow, trying to console her.

“Johnny used to talk about you alot,” she weeped. “‘That’s my girl! That’s my daughter and she’ll go places!’ That’s what he always said. He told me how you grew up in the brothel and how you were always willing to listen to his lessons in arithmetic.” Her eyes were red from crying and all you could do was console her. “Thank you for taking care of him…for taking care of us,”

“It’s nothing, Beth,” you assured her. “He let me into his bunker when my mum died,” you recalled. “He protected me from…from…as much as he could, you know?”

God. Just how many people could you lose in this fucking lifetime? First, your father but you’ve never really weeped for him. You never knew him. Second, your mum. She took care of you with how little she had. Third, Tommy. You never heard back if he was alive or not. Your protector. Fourth, Big Johnny. He’s always been the male figure that you considered as your father. Who’s next?

“I’m grateful for him,” you managed to choke out. You asked your security guards to go somewhere else, maybe a few feet or metres from the house. You wanted privacy. “I’m just so regretful to never have seen him and now he’s gone…”

Johnny died because of a rumble with some of the newer gangs in Small Heath. Some young lads mugged him on the way home and killed him. They threw his body by the docks where they thought no one would ever see him.

Your body suddenly fills with rage. Was this the work of the Blinders? Fuck. Why would they fucking do that? Beth excuses herself from you and you nodded. Picking on the rings on your fingers, you didn’t notice who sat beside you. 

“Seems like we only see each other at weddings and funerals,” You gasped, looking at the source of the familiar voice. How could you ever forget? She told you what you needed to do to survive. 

“Polly,” you gasped, extending your shaky hands towards her. “How have you been?”

“I’m good,” she replied. “Who would’ve thought, huh?” she asked. She lets you clutch her hand for support. “Where’s Simon?”

“He has business in Camden Town,” you replied. “He allowed me to go but there’s security around us right now. We can’t really talk, Poll—he’s going to, he’s going to—“

“I’ve handled it,” she said. “You can talk to me as freely as you would like, okay?” You nodded. 

“I’m sorry for…for leaving,” you whispered. Your voice wavers and you feel the wetness in your eyes. “I didn’t have a choice.”

“Darling…”

“He threatened to kill Tommy, Arthur, and John if I didn’t obey,” you confessed. “During the…the war,” You shut your eyes to hide from Polly. Her heart aches. You’ve always been reluctant to show your emotions but you are visibly hiding now. Cowering from the fear of rejection and of humiliation from Polly Gray. “He said that-that he knew people who could finish the job.”

“Don’t hide,” she coos. Your obedience was not in vain but she’d never tell you that. She didn’t want Tommy to act impulsively and she didn’t want you to lose what you already have. “How are you? You don’t need permission from a man, you know,”

“I know,” you nod. “You always told me but…Simon is all I have now. He trusts me and I don’t want to break that trust that I’ve worked so hard on. You told me to take advantage of everything and I am,”

“What have you been doing?”

“I have trusts, bonds, and investments to my name now. Simon couldn’t take them away from me. All sealed with a document that my lawyers reviewed,” you told her. Once a prostitute, always a prostitute.

“Johnny and I taught you well then,” she nods in approval. “That’s good. We miss you,”

“I’m sorry,” you said. “Where’s Ada? I’ve to thank her for the house,”

“If anything, she has you to thank. She’s been going there a lot since you left. She said she feels more at peace there,” Polly replied. “When are you leaving?”

“After the burial,” you replied. “I have to leave and go to uh, Italy with Simon,”

“For what?”

“Some…business thing.” you replied. 

“He’s showing you the world?” she asked, gesturing to your clothes. You knew it. It was too much for a funeral.

“Yeah. It’s too much isn’t it? I can-I can change into something else but, he likes these clothes,” you told her. “But can I—“

“No, you look good,” she says, stopping you from your worries. “You look like who you’re supposed to be,”

You look like who you’re supposed to be. If it was any other person, you’d be offended; but this was Polly. She always told you that you didn’t belong in Small Heath. “You’re too pure to belong here forever.” She’d always say. It’s funny, you felt like you never belonged in Simon’s world no matter how hard he tried to put you in it. 

You couldn’t bring yourself to ask about Tommy and his brothers. How could you? You were too scared to know the answer. If Polly didn’t mention it, it’s probably for the best.

“I do wish you’d visit us more but I know your circumstances,” she said. “I received the letter from Simon along with a cheque of a few thousand pounds,”

“Did you encash it?” you asked. 

“No,” she replied. Somehow, that gave you comfort. She couldn’t be bought. “I did it because I was so worried about what could happen to you. It didn’t have any details. It just said that he’d appreciate it if we cease all contact. He hasn’t hurt you, has he?”

“No,” you shook your head. Not yet. “As unimaginable as it all is, he has never. I truly believe that he loves me, Pol. He tells me every day. He heeds everything that I say or do and has never had a mistress but I feel so terrible because I don’t love him that way,” you confessed, feeling like the weight of the world just lifted itself on your shoulders. “I’m terrible,”

“You’re not,” Polly said. “I told you to take advantage of everything but I never told you to love him, did I?”

-

You went home that day feeling lighter. You could always confide in Polly whenever you needed. You were just so heartbroken to know that that could probably never happen again. Your servants have left now. You told them that you didn’t need them during the night because of how small the house was. They stayed at a lodging for labourers nearby; except for the guards. They came with you wherever you go, even if it was only at a distance. 

You were putting away the heavy gold earrings in the vanity in your room. It was dark, except for the lamp that you opened by the bed. 

“You should really change your locks,” Your head whipped, earrings falling on the ground. 

“Tommy?” you asked, rushing towards him in your most comfortable clothes. It was a long sleeved pyjama shirt that Simon owned. Tommy didn’t like it. “Oh my God. You’re here,” you breathed, shaky hands touching his arm. “You’re here…you’re here,”

“And you’re here,” he says, his voice void of emotion. He looked for the pressed flowers in the frame that usually sat on your vanity. It was gone. “You left,”

“I didn’t want to,” you said, removing your hands from him when you felt how cold he was.

“Did you plan on coming back? At all?” he asked. His rage blinds him. Why was he so cold and cruel? Why couldn’t he tell you how happy he was to see you again? He didn’t know how to handle his emotions. Years of longing…of heartbreak…of wondering if he could ever be good enough came down on him. 

“Tommy?”

“It’s just a funny thing, isn’t it?” he chuckled, lighting up his cigarette. “You leave, make your way into the world, and then expect things to be the same.”

You frowned. 

“It’s a funny thing. You promised to wait for me and you didn’t,” he spat. “All I ever looked at was your photo in those four years and you—“

“I didn’t want to leave, Tommy,” you whispered. 

“But you did!” he exclaims. “You left me! You…you left me and married someone else. You decided that I could never grant my promises and fucked someone else. Like a…like…”

“Like what, Tommy?” you asked, stepping away from him. “Like a whore?” He’s never thought of you like that before.

“I never said that,”

“But you thought it!” You sit on your bed. “You see me like how everyone sees me. Fuck,” you shook, shielding yourself away from him. “How could you ruin this for us?”

“No, I’m—“

“Then, what? What is it, Tommy? You come in here to my house and pick a fight. You can’t blame me for the choices that I made! I had no idea if you were coming back. What else was I supposed to do?”

“Wait for me,” he demanded. “I told you to wait for me. I’ve been building us everything that we ever wanted but you were just so impatient,”

“How could I if you never wrote back?”

You looked up at him through teary eyes. You finally gave him the chance to look at you. You looked older, despite the garb that you were wearing. The sparkle was gone. You looked up at him. He’s different. Detached, cold, and emotionless. The blue eyes that used to convey so much emotion were gone. He wasn’t letting you in like he used to. 

You both changed.

A shimmer on your neck catches his attention. It was his mother’s locket. You catch his eyes casting down on it. 

“I forgot,” you croaked, looking away. “I’m supposed to give this to you.” He wasn’t your Tommy anymore.

“No, you should keep it,”

“It’s okay,” you nod, removing the locket from your person and putting it on the bed. It was the first time you’ve ever removed it and it felt like you were removing a leash. “You own it. You should give it to someone else. Someone that’s…that’s not me,”

“Y/N…love,” he tried but you shook his head. “It always belonged to you.”

“We’re not the same people anymore, Tom. You look at me and-and it’s how everyone else does,” you cried. “Like a whore. I’m selling my body and my future for a life like this. Right? I don’t want to have this anymore,” you said. “We grew apart and we’re older now. We’re not the same people,” You don’t love me anymore.

There was hell and there was a place below hell. It was where he was. How could he be so cruel to make you cry? How could he insinuate that you were all the same? How could you hint that he doesn’t love you anymore?

“I waited for you, Tommy. Waited for you to write back and at first, I felt…sad. Then, angry. You think I’m so disposable. So replaceable, right?” you asked. “I sent you letters every week. You always told me you’d protect me but you couldn’t even send me a letter telling me that you were alright. You couldn’t even protect Johnny!”

Maybe if he told you that it was Polly who intercepted those letters, you wouldn’t be so mad at him. Maybe you wouldn’t think that he’d abandon you so easily. Maybe you’d know that you were the only face that got him out of the tunnels. Maybe you’d know that it was your name that made him feel good. Like your name was some prayer he’s worthy enough to say every time that he felt like he was underground again. But how could he hurt you more than he already did?

“You were the one who replaced me,” Maybe you’d finally know that he loves you and that, if you could have just waited a little bit longer, you’d never have to worry if your hair was out of place.

“There was nothing to replace.”

-

Tommy brews in anger. To Polly, to you, and to himself. He couldn’t tell you that Polly intercepted your letters. He didn’t want to cut your relationship with her too. 

“Fuck!” he roared. The barmaid comes in and asks Tommy if he was okay. He shrugs her off but seems intent on staying.

“Do you want me to sing for you?” she asked. He leans back, uninterested. 

“Sure,”

“Happy or sad?” she asked. 

“Uh, sad,” 

“It’ll break your heart,” she says, smiling softly.

“Already broken,” he muttered. Already broken. 

He sits there, unmoving. To be honest, he didn’t know why he was so mad at you. He was truly, utterly, and irrevocably alone now that you were gone. It wasn’t that he wasn’t used to being alone. He prefered it sometimes. Maybe it’s because he always expected for the two of you to be alone together. Like you always were. 

The fear of being unknown to you scares him. You’ve always known him—his whole heart and his whole soul. You’ve always known him but now, you’re gone. You’ll never know him the way you knew him. You were too different now and it rips through him like nothing else. You’ll never be there for him like you did. He’ll never know you like he did once. He could never pinpoint it but he hates how he was never enough for you. If only he could provide, if he could only protect, if only…

Here he thought he’d finally have a wink of sleep after four years. 

-

You were on the phone with your husband after Tommy stormed out in anger last night. You needed to be comforted, to be told that you were right and that everyone else was wrong. It was one of the few luxuries you allowed yourself when you were with Tommy but you were positive that you’ve lost him now.

“Are you alright?” he asked, concern lacing his voice. “I can always come down there, you know,”

“I know,” you nodded. “I just miss you,” 

“You do?” You could tell that that inflated his ego. “If it’s any consolation, I missed you too,”

“Do you think…do you think you can be here for the funeral?” you asked before you could even stop yourself. Why were you bringing him here when Tommy was around? Were you bringing him here out of spite? To make Tommy what? Jealous? But then again, was it a sin to ask for comfort from your husband? Tommy would never understand. He was quick to tell you what he thought of you yesterday. It was the first time he did it but you couldn’t get it out of your head. If to him, you were a whore, then a whore you’d be. 

It was the only thing you were good at anyway. 

“Of course,” he nodded. “This thing with Solomons is just shit work anyway. I’ll be there the day before. Will that be alright?” 

“Yes,” you whispered. Are you really willing to let him inside the fort you’ve built with Tommy? “I lost my mom’s locket today and I…” 

“You did?” he asked. He knew how important that locket was to you. You begged him to not take it off during your wedding. If only he knew. He bought you jewels but you never wore another necklace. “We can get you another one. Something that’s even more beautiful than the one you had.”

“I suppose so,” you sighed. “I love you,” 

“I love you too.”

And you weren’t sure if you were still lying. 

-

Simon arrives at your house sometime in the morning, before the sun rises. It was his first time seeing your house—being in your house. It was a small, shabby home with flowers. Have you always liked flowers? One of the servants opened the door for him and he entered. Poor you. Did you always live like this? 

He spots you reading a book on the couch when you look up at him.

“How was your trip?” You close the book and sit upright. “I hope it wasn’t horrible,”

“I’m here now,” he sits down, nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck. “You’ve been on my mind since you left. Is there anything I have to know?”

“I…I talked to Polly,” you confessed. The grip that he has on your waist tightens. “But we only talked about Johnny. She said that the police aren’t doing anything to know who killed him.”

“I see,” 

“But I left after that. I’ve never seen her since,” you said truthfully. “I told her that we couldn’t meet again,”

“Thank you for not breaking my trust,” he said, removing his grip on you. “You know it’s for us, right?”

“Yes, I know,” you nodded. This is wrong. This is all wrong. Why were you understanding him more? Are you only agreeing with Simon because you hated Tommy at that moment? What’s the sudden change? 

You were all gathered at Johnny's funeral. Simon was beside you, holding your waist protectively. Beth was a wailing mess by the coffin. They were putting him six feet under. Last night was the last time she’ll ever see Johnny’s physical body again. You were bowing your head down, trying to keep your tears away. Johnny had been the father figure and now, he’s gone too. 

The ceremony ends soon enough with Simon never letting go of your body. The Shelbys have noticed. Simon was basically hounding you so you wouldn’t have to talk to others. 

“I sometimes wonder if she stopped talking to us because she wanted to or if she was forced to,” Arthur said, looking at you and your husband. Ada was looking at Polly. They were the only ones who knew. They both agreed to never tell a soul because of how messy things could be. Tommy would wage a war if it concerned you. “The question is why is she letting him?”

Tommy walks to where you were. He clears his throat to make himself known. He watches your figure become rigid. Simon was looking at him, his hand still on your waist. If he could shoot this prick’s hand for even laying a hand on you—

“I’m Tommy Shelby,” he starts. “I just decided to come by and offer a quick greeting to your wife.”

“Of course, Mr. Shelby,” Simon replied, his voice was strained and you were scared. Terrified. “Y/N didn’t tell me about you. Have you, darling?” There was a threat in his voice.

“Oh,” you nod, licking your lips. Your voice was wavering. “Mr. Shelby i-is someone I knew when I was a child, darling. He left for the war and…and…”

“We haven’t seen each other since,” he finishes.  “I wish we could talk more,” Tommy added, confirming what he already thought. He didn’t spare you a glance and if he did, he didn’t make a show of it. “Mr. Coventry. Y/N,” he bowed, taking your gloved hand and kissing your knuckles. He walks away, leaving Simon’s anger and your anxiety behind him. 

Simon didn’t speak to you on the way back. You tried but he only dismissed you with a cold shoulder. When you arrived home, he dragged you by the arm to the living room. You watched while the servants dispersed to give you some privacy. It was funny how they always pretended that they knew nothing.

“Do you really think I’m fucking stupid?” he roared, his loud voice vibrating the walls of your home. “You talked to Polly Gray but didn’t meet Tommy. At all,”

“You have to believe me, Simon. I never…it’s my first time seeing him again!” you pleaded, scared for Tommy’s life—scared for yours. Your arm hurts but you have bigger problems right now. What was a little bruise anyway? “I didn’t even know if he was still alive,”

“Can you shut the fuck up?” he asked. “It’s like everything that you’re saying are…are lies! I gave you everything,” he spits. “I gave you and your friends money. If it weren’t for me, you’d still be in that fucking brothel fucking some twat who could never afford everything that I’m giving you. Is that what you want? Do you want to go back there?”

“Simon,” you tried. “I swear, I didn’t know he was still alive. Polly never told me. I—“

“Liar!” he says, stepping closer to you. He grasps your chin tightly, your head unmoving at the pressure. “I bought you. Don’t you dare fucking disrespect me. I own you,” 

“Simon, please…” you cried. “I swear to you I didn’t…”

“Shut up,” he spits. “You’re fucking disgusting,”

He shoves you to the floor and you cry. He leaves without looking at you. He didn’t apologise for what he did. It was the first time he showed you what you were to him. A property. You didn’t sleep that night; you were just on the balcony, looking at the docks, wondering what would’ve happened if you had just waited. 

-

The morning comes and you are tired. Simon just woke up and decided to stay with you on the balcony. 

“I’m sorry, angel,” he whispers. He wraps his arms around your shoulders. “I’m sorry for doing that. I promise to never do that again. I was just…so angry because Tommy Shelby came to us. Do you see why you’re not allowed to be here? Why I hate it when you’re in Birmingham? These fucking rats have no respect,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

“Simon, you said things,” you whispered, looking up at him. Tears stained your cheeks. Everything that he said replayed inside your head over and over.  What right did you have to demand his apology if he owned you? “You…”

Defeated, Simon sighs.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “You know that I’m doing this for us. I’m sorry,”

You could only nod wordlessly, blinking away the tears before they fall again. You didn’t notice the bruising on your jaw yet. You weren’t at the brothel anymore but up to what extent are you truly free? At the end of the day, you’re still weak. You still have nothing. At the end of the day, buttering him up doesn’t matter.

-

BIRMINGHAM, 1912

“One day, we’ll be able to buy those fancy, black cars and drive around London as much as we want.” Tommy said. He was in his work clothes, a greasy white shirt and his shaggy hair falling in different sorts of places. 

“We will?”

“Yes,” he nodded, his shoulder touching yours. You were just about to work when he pulled you away. He asked if you wanted to come with him to The Cut for a little while and you agreed, finding it hard to say no to him. “I’ll get you one and then, I’ll get you a horse.” 

“Don’t forget the house with a big lawn,” you giggled. 

“How could I forget?” he asked. “I’ll buy that first,”

“Would you hate me if things don’t work out the way we want them to?” you asked. “I’m just wondering,”

“Why wouldn’t it? We’re staying together,” Tommy said, casting you a confused look. 

“I mean, you’ll get a wife. I can’t live in the same house as her,” you said. “I don’t want to cause unnecessary problems for the two of you. I want her to be my friend too.”

“I’m not marrying,” he said. “Why should I marry? We come as a pair. Never one without the other. We won’t need anyone else,”

“That would be nice.”

“I get it,” he nodded. “You’re always my main priority. I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about all that yet. As long as you’re with me, I’ll be fine,”

“And if I’m not?”

“I won’t,”

“How are you going to do all this?” you asked. You always believed in Tommy.

“I’ll do everything,” 

“You’re a man of ambition, Tommy. Did you know that you can’t have ambition without being a little dangerous?”

He ponders. He’ll deal all of his cards and fold if it came to you.

There were a million things you wanted to tell him at that moment. He does, too. He looks at you so…lovingly and so naturally that it doesn’t seem like anything anymore. Tommy really didn’t fear anything, except when it came to you. He’s scared to tell you the truth because he might change the course of things. He’s scared to never fulfil all of his promises to you. He’s scared that he’ll never amount to anything other than a greasy boy that you took care of. 

He doesn’t say any of this, though, so he just smokes slow. 

-

BIRMINGHAM, 1919

“I have to do something about it,” Tommy told his brothers, taking a swig of his Irish whiskey. He was composed but his mind was running at a speed that he couldn’t quite catch up on. Were you happy in your marriage?

“Tom, it’s better if you could just let her go,” Arthur replied. “It’s not my place, hm? But we saw them yesterday. Maybe it’s for the best,”

“It’s not,” Stoic as ever, he looked ahead. 

“It’s a bad idea…” his older brother tried. “You’re fighting against a king. You’re not—“

“Why is everyone telling me that I can’t do anything? Why?” he asked. “I hardly recall asking for your permission, Arthur. You and Polly have been telling me what I can and can’t do.” 

“Tommy, think about it. With the fucking guns and taking on this whole…thing with her. It’s too big. So, just let it go, eh? You’ll get yourself killed,” John added. He knew of Tommy’s affections for you. Hell, he knew what Tommy meant. John discreetly watched you and your husband. You couldn’t maintain eye contact, you couldn’t speak freely without a stutter. It was so different from the Y/N that he used to know but Tommy couldn’t be persuaded. He was living on the edge of life in the war that it didn’t matter to him if he died or not. He’s free from the fear of death; he could do whatever he wanted. 

“I’m a man of ambition. You can’t have ambition without being a little dangerous,”

-

BANG! BANG! BANG! 

Tommy feels like the world was caving in. Fuck. He always hated sleeping, no matter how much he craved it. The darkness of his room and his closed eyes reminds him of the darkness of the tunnels. The walls and the tightness of the closed spaces; the unknown waiting on the other side. The lives he lost, the blood that his comrades spilled. He sits up, he hates how he couldn’t sleep because he’s always hearing the gunshots and the bombs in France. He hates being weak. Things were never the same and he so desperately wanted it to be. He couldn’t breathe—couldn’t think. He couldn’t see the faint lamp that burned on his bedside table. The ringing in his ears doesn’t subside. It was just fucking dark. 

He looks over his bedside table and reaches for your picture. You always seemed to calm him no matter where he went. No matter what he does, you always seem to ground him.

“Y/N,” he whispered, taking a swig of his whiskey. As if that would just conjure you. He was sometimes convinced that your picture was an apparition of the time when everything was quieter. When his world had no guns and bombs. When you two were together. He frowns, taking his head in between his hands and cries. 

If only he was stronger. If only he was rich. If only he could fulfil all of the promises he gave you. If only.

-

If there was anything he regretted, it was how angry he was when he went to your old house for your first meeting. He’s been waiting to be graced by your smile for years but he couldn’t control the anger that brewed inside him. He was so guarded after the war. But those guards seem to crumble around you, leaving him defenceless and vulnerable like a child. 

A knock on his door arouses him. It was currently just before the sunrise; that hazy blue period that calms him before everyone else wakes. He checked from his window outside but there was nothing. Another knock comes and he sighs, going downstairs to check. He puts his gun behind him. He opens the door and it reveals you.

You were shaking like a leaf when his eyes landed on your figure. 

“I don’t know…where else to…to go,” you whispered. He goes out and looks around to make sure that no one’s there. When the coast is clear, he takes your hand and guides you to the living room. He was hoping that no one heard anything.

“Do you need anything?” he asked. 

“Just…water, please,” 

“Did you walk all the way?” 

“Yeah,” he hears you say while he pours you a glass. “Sorry for disturbing you,” 

“It’s alright,” he tells you, giving you the glass. 

“Yeah,” you replied, drinking the water to avoid any sort of communication with your old friend. “Tommy?”

“Hm?” he asked, sitting in front of you and it’s so different it hurts. He used to sit beside you, knee to knee. He had to blink multiple times to clear his vision—to make sure that you were actually there. “What brings you here?”

“I…I…” you couldn’t say a single word before you broke into tears. It was then when Tommy actually looked at you, the bruising on your chin, your defeated stance. He trembles in anger but forces himself to let it subside and comfort you. “S-sorry,”

“Hey, hey. It’s okay, love,” he whispers, sitting beside you this time and rubbing circles on your back. “You don’t have to talk about it,”

“Would you still…would you still protect me?” you asked and you were aware of how selfish you sounded. “You’re right. I’m a-a whore,” you chuckled, looking away from him. “I know I’m being unfair…marrying Simon and then coming here…”

It appals him for you to think that he’ll ever stop protecting you. It disturbs him for letting you think that way because of one argument. 

Your chin was quivering as you tried to form a coherent sentence. 

“I thought…I thought I was free but he laid a hand on me,” you tried. “Gripped my chin and called me his property,”

You told yourself that it wasn’t Tommy’s fault. 

“All because you talked to me during the funeral,” you whispered. You couldn’t stop yourself and Tommy couldn’t stop himself from the emotions that linger. It’s not his fault. It’s not his fault that you loved him. 

“Let’s run away,” It’s all his fault. All his fault that he loved you. 

“Tommy��” you whispered, shaking your head. “Did you know…did you know why I stopped talking to you?” you asked him. He didn’t. Maybe the reason why he’s so angry with you was because he didn’t know. “When you were in France, he told me that if I continue any form of communication with the Shelbys…he’ll locate you and your brothers and have the three of you killed.” You reveal to him. “You always said you’ll protect me but I wanted to protect you too.”

Your broken voice was something that he’ll never forget. Your fragile figure was something that he’ll never remove from his brain. You were…miserable. How could you let yourself be miserable for his sake? How could Simon let you cry? How could he break you? You were so strong, the strongest he’s ever known.

“I will kill him,” 

“Tommy, no,” you whimpered. “I’m here to tell you that…that the best way to protect me is to forget about me,”

“You can’t do that to me,” Tommy replied, his voice stern. He was trying so, so hard. “Not when I waited to come home for four years.”

“It’s the best way,” you pleaded. “You can go start a family or…or do something else but if you really want to protect me, you’ll forget about me,” 

You were so defeated, your figure curled to your heart like you were protecting yourself from everyone. Tommy could see the stutter of your body while you tried to control everything.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he tried, blinking the tears away but failing. His resolve was crumbling; popping the joints on his knuckles to ground him. It was then he noticed your nail beds, peeled and crusted with dried blood. You must have been thinking about it for so long. “You’re not giving me a choice here, love,” You must have been hurting.

“He’ll kill you, Tom. I wouldn’t be able to take it if I am the reason why your body’s thrown at The Cut.” you told him. “I let you go once without knowing for sure that you’ll come back alive. I’ll make sure that this time, you are.”

“So that’s it, eh?” he asked. “Your bastard husband threatens my life and you let him control you.” he licks his lips.

“I’m sorry, Tom,” you told him. “That's all I could do. You’re a man…you could have the world. I’m a woman and I can’t have anything unless I make it. This is me making it.” This is me making sure that I’ll never have to think about you. 

You left in the wee hours of the morning and Tommy lets you go without a fight. He thought that he was the one doing the protecting, when you’ve been protecting him all along. You were his most tender wound. Battle scars from France don't compare to the pain he’s feeling in the darkness of the house. Should he run after you? Should he heed your advice? What if he kills Simon? Will you be free then?

“Her husband’s dealing with Alfie Solomons,” he tells everyone during a family meeting. “I’ll deal with Solomons myself,”

“You’re waging a war that is bigger than all of us, Tommy,” Arthur said.

“I’m not asking for approval,” he only replied, his voice was monotonous; suppressing his emotions as much as he could. He swallows. “Information about Y/N’s home life has reached me. She told me that the best way to protect her is to forget about her.” He confessed.

“Well, shit,” Ada replied. “Surely…”

“Surely, I won’t.” he said, voice stern and determined. “I’ll deal all of my cards if I have to. Do you get that?”

“Tommy, it’s a bad idea. She’s right. With the fucking inspector on our throats and Simon Coventry…you’ll get yourself killed.”

“I have decided,”

“Then, what’s all of this for, then?”

“Just letting you know.” he says, looking at everyone’s face of disapproval. 

When he exits the Garrison, Polly runs after him. She was determined to let him let you go for your safety. It was a sticky situation that Tommy was putting himself in. A semblance of power doesn’t mean that he’s powerful but he couldn’t seem to understand that. 

“Tommy, do you want to save her because you want to or is it because you have to prove yourself to you?” she asked him, grasping his arm. 

“Polly—“

“Do you love her because you do or do you only think you do because you need her? It’s alright to let her go, Tom. You have to realise that maybe she’s correct,” she reasoned. “The more you move, the more she’s constricted—“ 

“You took her away from me, Polly,” he spits. “How can I not love her when I need her beside me to even get a wink of sleep? Her picture was all I looked at in France. She is the reason why I’m alive—why I’m here. You took her away from me and I am taking her back. Does that look like love to you?” he demanded, shaking her arm away. 

“You want to know what blinds a man as smart as you, Tom? Love,” she says. “You’re making things—“

“So I am blind,” he shrugs. “I vowed to protect her and that is a vow that I’ll take to the grave with me, Pol. You could help or not. It wouldn’t matter either way but you owe it to me to try. At least,” 

A beat passes, Polly doesn’t speak. He nods to excuse himself, walking away as the blind man.

-

A/N: Thank you so much for reading. I’m so glad you’re still here.

Don’t forget to reblog / leave a comment if you liked it!

PART 4

TAGLIST:  @shelbydelrey @runnning-outof-time @duckybird101 @thenattitude @swordofawriter @litteltourtius​ @trixie23​ @everythingelseisextra​ @majesticcmey @liveat1am @dumb-wh @denabp16 @yvonna-chan @goldensunflowe-r @therosabel @hunnibearrr @dazecrea @daddyslittleattentionwhore @the-girl-wh0-cries-w0lf @dang-shawty-okay @dasia21 @tsenthusiast1920 @aces-tattooartist @panda-luminary @ttaechi @spencerrxids @i-heart-food @fudge13 @affabletimelady @heartcereql @ce1iat @notalxx @1800-queen-trash

[sycamorelibrary754]

Booked for the Day

Summary: During a visit to the New York Public Library, Yelena experiences an unexpected encounter that leaves a lasting impression.

Pairings: Yelena x Female!Reader

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: None?

A/N: Thanks to @yelenasdiary for helping me with a couple of the details. 

Yelena adjusted the collar on her faux fur coat as she walked alongside Steve down Fifth Avenue in midtown Manhattan. Energy filled the bustling city, and the trees were beginning to showcase the beautiful colors of autumn, painting the streets with their vibrant hues.

"Remind me again why I'm here, Rogers?" Yelena asked, her steps slightly lagging behind the super soldier.

"You dozed off during the briefing. It was this or a meeting with Fury," Steve replied, finally coming to a halt.

Yelena tilted her head and raised one eyebrow, a faint smirk on her lips. "I'm not exactly an Avenger," she remarked, her Russian accent giving each word a sharp edge. "What's Fury going to do? Give me a demerit?"

Steve rolled his eyes. "Come on," he said, gesturing towards the facade of the New York Public Library. “Notice the Marble Lions atop the two pedestals? They're called Patience and Fortitude," Steve pointed out as they made their way up the steps.

The widow paused and ran her hand over the smooth marble sculpture. "Let me take a wild guess," she said, "You were here on the day the library first opened?"

Steve chuckled. "Oh, come on. I'm not that old."

Yelena shot him a pointed look, prompting him to continue.

"I was here during the Great Depression when Mayor La Guardia gave them the names 'Patience' and 'Fortitude' to symbolize the qualities he believed New Yorkers needed to persevere through those tough times," he admitted.

"Mhmm," the blonde responded as she playfully tapped Steve's cheek. "That's what I thought.”

Stepping through the library's entrance into Astor Hall, Yelena couldn't help but be awed by its magnificence. The meticulously crafted white marble columns and majestic staircases evoked a luxury reminiscent of a bygone era. The pair ascended the stairs and walked through the McGraw Rotunda into the Rose Reading Room. Exquisite arches adorned the space, while the sprawling half-moon windows bathed the room in gentle, natural light. A stunning mural depicting the endless expanse of the morning sky floated across the ceiling. Steve began leisurely perusing the shelves, taking in the titles and carefully searching for his next read. 

What are you looking for?" Yelena asked.

"Hmm," he pondered, pulling his brown leather notebook from his coat pocket. "Bruce mentioned To Kill a Mockingbird, and Clint suggested 1984."

Yelena reached for the notebook. "Are you seriously planning to read all these books?

“Absolutely," declared Steve as he snatched the notebook back. "I want to know what I missed under the ice. Besides, haven't you ever heard of broadening your horizons?” 

“Back again, Steve?” A warm voice behind the pair suddenly said. 

“Hey, Y/N,” Steve said, embracing you with a hug, “Yeah, I've been on a roll lately.”

"I see you've brought a companion with you this time," you remarked, locking eyes with the blonde.

"Yes, this is Yelena, Natasha’s sister. Yelena, this is Y/N. She's the Chief Librarian."

"Nice to meet you," you greeted, offering your hand to Yelena.

"Pleasure's all mine," Yelena responded, grasping your hand. Your soft and delicate touch contrasted her scarred and calloused hands from a lifetime of combat.

"Do you need help finding something?" you inquired.

"Not at the moment, just looking around," Steve replied.

"I'm only here because America's ass is, in fact, an ass," Yelena exclaimed. "Ow!" she yelped as Steve nudged her in the side.

You smirked and suppressed a chuckle. Just then, you noticed a queue forming at the circulation desk – familiar faces from NYU returning to continue their dissertation research in the archival collections.

“Okay, you know where to find me if you need anything, Steve. And Yelena, it was lovely to meet you,” you said as you smiled and walked away. 

Yelena's gaze lingered on you as you returned to the cluster of students. Her eyes, a piercing shade of green, seemed to track your every move as you rejoined the group. 

Hey," Steve said, snapping his fingers in front of the widow's face. "No cursing in front of the Chief Librarian."

“Oh, please,” Yelena retorted. “You would be mad if I cursed before a teddy bear."

"I'm going to take a look around," he began, glancing at the shelves of books. "How about we rendezvous here in an hour?"

"Eye-Eye Captain Swear Jar," Yelena replied, giving the Super Soldier a mock salute.

"I understand now why Nat never wants to take you anywhere,” Steve deadpanned. 

*^~^*

While Cap continued to browse the shelves, Yelena decided to explore the rest of the library. True, the blonde was no bookworm, but the building was too beautiful not to admire. 

The rhythmic click of her shoes reverberated through the hallways, accentuating the pristine white Vermont marble floor. The grandeur of the architecture brought back recollections of the imposing Houses of Parliament and political palaces she had once covertly infiltrated during her time in the Red Room. It had taken a while, but she was gradually becoming accustomed to the freedom she now enjoyed. Moving through the building based on her own merits, she no longer had to skulk around every corner with a gun in hand and a knife strapped to her thigh. Soon, the joyful sounds of children's laughter filled the air and reached her ears.

As she followed the sound, the blonde turned around a corner and poked her head through the double doors into the Children’s Room. It was full of small white bookshelves and desks. A colorful animal mural decorated the walls, adding a cheerful touch to the room. Suddenly, Yelena caught sight of you once again. You were kneeling before two young children—a boy and a girl—pointing to five old stuffed animals in a glass case.

"This is the real Winnie the Pooh?" The little boy asked with wide eyes.

"It is!" you replied with a smile. "Christopher Robin's Daddy gave him Winnie the Pooh for his 1st birthday."

"Cool," the boy said softly, clearly in awe.

"And look, that's Eeyore, Piglet, Kanga, and Tigger," the little girl chimed in, finger-tapping the display case.

"That’s right! You must love Winnie the Pooh," you said, impressed.

"He's our favorite Disney character! I like it when he gets the Honey Pot stuck on his head," she giggled.

"Well, then I have a special book for you two," you said, bringing your hands out from behind your back to reveal a small tome.

"The House at Pooh Corner," the little boy said slowly, sounding out the words.

"Thank you so much!" The little girl exclaimed. 

"You're so welcome," you declared. 

You watched the children race back to their parents, joyfully clutching the book. As you steadied yourself to stand up, a ring-clad hand suddenly appeared.

Without hesitation, you clasped Yelena's hand and pulled yourself upright. "Thank you," you said gratefully.

"Your words to those children were sweet," Yelena remarked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"First grade is when kids take an interest in reading. I try to make it as fun and engaging as possible for them," you shared.

“Looks like it’s working," Yelena remarked, gazing around the Children's Room.

"Is this your first time visiting the Library?" you asked. "Steve's a regular, but I haven't seen you here before."

"Yeah, unfortunately, I don't get much time to read," Yelena replied, nervously playing with her rings.

"Understandable," you nodded. "I guess being an Avenger keeps you pretty busy."

"Oh, I'm no Avenger," Yelena dismissed. "I'm more of a... Freelancer. I show up when I'm needed.”

"Well, I'm happy you showed up today," you said with a smile.

Wow, your eyes were stunning. They sparkled with the most mesmerizing Y/E/C color, and Yelena couldn't help but be captivated by them. 

"Um, excuse me?" a tiny voice suddenly piped up, interrupting her thoughts as Yelena felt a gentle tug on her coat, diverting her attention away from you.

Looking down, she saw a young girl with curious eyes staring back at her. Her golden curls reminded her of her own at that age. The little girl spoke softly, almost mumbling, and stared down at her scuffed shoes, making it difficult for Yelena to catch what she was saying.

"What was that, sweetheart?" Yelena asked gently, crouching down to the little one's eye level.

"I said, are you an Avenger?" the little girl repeated, a hint of shyness in her tone. "You have the same shape on your belt buckle as The Black Widow," she pointed to the unmistakable red hourglass on Yelena's belt.

Yelena's gaze lingered on the intricately crafted belt buckle before she looked back up at the little girl standing before her. She had forgotten she was wearing it. Her fingers instinctively traced the contours of the hourglass symbol. It was a piece she had up-cycled into an accessory, a subtle nod to her journey and a means of reclaiming her narrative.

Yelena paused, struggling to find the right words. "Sort of," she finally managed.

The little girl leaned in, her eyes wide with curiosity. "How many bad guys have you fought?" she asked eagerly.

You quickly interjected, "Oh..."

But Yelena gently placed a hand on your arm. "No, it's okay," she reassured you before returning to the little girl. "I've fought many bad guys," she whispered with a small smile.

Her eyes sparkled. "I want to be just like you when I grow up."

“Oh, my,” Yelena said, taken aback. “Well, if you treat people with kindness and always try to lend a helping hand, then you can be whatever you want.”

The little girl stood there, awestruck, and whispered, “Wow.”

Yelena continued to converse with her until her mother called her from across the room. Yelena stood and looked at you, a grin plastered across your face.

"Now, who's the sweet one?" You remarked.

"Let's just say that when I was her age, I wasn't spending much time in the library," Yelena conveyed as she rose, wearing a solemn expression.

Your brows furrowed as you contemplated her words. "Everyone's journey is different. What's important is that you’re here now.”

Yelena nodded thoughtfully. "I do whatever I can to help girls reclaim their freedom," she explained, carefully selecting her words to convey the essence of her work in liberating widows, "In more ways than one."

Impressed by her dedication, you responded, "That is amazing, Yelena."

“Sometimes I feel like it’s not enough,” she confessed. “There are always more children who don’t have anyone to protect them, just like me when I was small."

"I understand,” you said, looking around the room. “Not everyone understands that the library represents their freedom. For so many, it is their only safe space,” you sighed. “I wish we could help everyone, but that isn't always possible.”

In a fleeting moment, the world around you seemed to fade away. Soon, the realization of the time broke the trance. "I need to head back to my office for a meeting. Care to walk with me?"

"Sure," she said, running a hand through her short, freshly cut blonde hair. 

As you both strolled through the magnificent building, you eagerly shared captivating details about the library’s 113-year history, collections, artwork, and the exquisite spaces often rented out for weddings and galas. You spoke animatedly, and your enthusiasm for the place was evident in every word. Yelena followed you back into the Rose Reading Room, where you had filled her mind with enough information to dominate a New York Public Library-themed game of Trivial Pursuit.

"Yelena, there you are," Steve called out, holding a small stack of books. "I'm all set. Are you ready to head home?"

The thought of leaving was the last thing Yelena wanted to do as she wrestled with the uncertainty of when she would have the chance to see you again.

“Sure,” Yelena reluctantly replied. 

As you bid farewell to both, you warmly hugged the super soldier, saying, "Happy reading, Steve." Turning to the blonde, you smiled and added, "Yelena, don't be a stranger.”

"I’ll do my best," she promised.

Yelena sighed quietly as you left, but Steve couldn't help but chuckle at the scene.

"What's so funny, stars and stripes?" Yelena asked.

Steve raised his hands in defense. "Nothing at all. I swear."

"Yeah, that's what I thought," she said as she walked out the door.

*^~^*

No, Tony. Absolutely not," Pepper said firmly as she walked into the lounge. Tony followed closely behind. The clinking of dishes was in the background as the team enjoyed their dinner.

"Come on," Tony cajoled. "You know there's no better setting for a gala than the compound."

Pepper folded her arms. "Except this isn't one of your 'The Sun Rose Today' parties where you all get drunk and try to lift Thor’s hammer. This gala marks Stark Industries' donation to New York City Public Schools, and I'm not sure the Chancellor of Education needs to see you doing the Macarena in one of your suits.”

"Ok, fine," Tony reluctantly conceded, "But let it be known that the Macarena is a time-honored classic."

Pepper rolled her eyes at Tony's comment before addressing the rest of the team. "Any ideas?"

"The Rainbow Room?" Sam exclaimed.

"Too formal," Pepper replied with a smirk.

"The Algonquin?" Bucky suggested with a shrug.

"Too old," Nat said, shaking her head.

"The Highline?" Kate suggested with a hopeful look.

"Too precarious," Wanda interjected with a concerned tone.

“The New York Public Library,” Yelena said from her seat at the end of the table.

Every gaze suddenly fixated on the blonde, as if she had been invisible until that moment.

“The Library is beautiful. They often rent it out for galas or weddings. I'm sure they'd love to host a Stark Industries event that benefits kids,” she said, glancing over at Tony, “Even if it meant he had to show up.”

"She's right," Steve nodded in agreement. "We were there today, it would be perfect."

"I’ll make some calls. Thank you, Yelena," Pepper said with a smile.

"Don't mention it," the widow remarked.

Yelena picked up her plate and headed towards the sink, with Steve following suit.

As they rinsed their plates, Yelena noticed Steve's smile and asked, "What now?"

"Nothing," he replied with a grin.

*^~^*

Despite her best intentions, Yelena felt overwhelming guilt as two months passed without her fulfilling her promise not to be a stranger. A continuous string of high-stakes missions and an unexpected journey to London with Nat to free a widow had left her with no opportunity to visit the Library. Nonetheless, her thoughts frequently drifted to you while in the field, a sentiment she would never be comfortable admitting. This inner conflict contradicted her rigorous training – maintaining constant vigilance, staying focused, and never letting her guard down. Yet, her sister was quick to notice the change in her demeanor.

Therefore, Natasha was inevitably concerned when Yelena failed to arrive at their designated extraction point on time. She was about to call Maria to ping her tracker when the blonde rounded the corner,  a Harrod’s garment bag thrown over her shoulder.

“Where have you been?” Natasha asked, irritation present in her tone. “We said 0200.”

"I'm here now. Relax, sestra," Yelena replied as she swaggered onto the Quinjet.

"What's in the bag?" Natasha inquired, springing up the ramp after her.

"I had to do some shopping," Yelena responded casually, trying to brush off the question.

"What's in the bag?" her sister persisted, reaching for it.

"Nothing that concerns you," Yelena retorted, stepping back out of reach.

Nat gazed at her with a skeptical expression, a single eyebrow arched in challenge as she uttered, "You think I can’t take that bag from you?"

Yelena locked eyes with Natasha, weighing the option of a physical altercation before letting out an exasperated sigh and handing it over.

“Ah, what have we here?" the redhead mused as she deftly extracted an elegant white dress from the bag, her whistle expressing her admiration. "I take it this isn't for some formal undercover operation?"

Yelena confessed, "It's for Sunday's Stark Industries Gala at the Library. I want to look nice, okay?”

"Ah, I see," Nat murmured, a knowing look in her eyes as she delicately placed the dress back into its garment bag. "This wouldn't have anything to do with a certain Chief Librarian, would it?"

Yelena feigned innocence. "I have no idea what you're suggesting."

Nat raised an eyebrow, a sly grin playing on her lips. "Whatever you say, Lena." She deftly punched in a sequence of buttons to power up the Quinjet. "But here's some news for you – Cap mentioned that she's confirmed for Sunday's event."

Yelena nodded, a flicker of excitement dancing in her eyes. "Good to know," she replied calmly, though a hint of a smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

*^~^*

Yelena hurried across the crowded New York City sidewalk, her eyes fixed on the ornate doors of the New York City Public Library. As the clock struck 7 PM, she reached out and pushed open the heavy oak doors, stepping into the serene interior. This was one occasion for which she was determined to arrive on time. 

The Parahélios Monstand white dress clung to her curves in all the right places, its V-neckline and flowing design accentuating her figure. The thigh slit hinted at the floral tiered skirt peeking out from underneath. Her entire outfit was highlighted by a stunning Valentino Clutch and graceful Fiorellini Gold Glass Heels, giving her a welcomed boost in height.

Adjusting the backs of her Starry Woven red and black earrings, she spotted the team mingling with the New York City Public School Board, but no sign of you. 

Yelena heard a familiar voice behind her. "She'll be here soon.”

The widow turned, only to be met by Steve standing with his hands folded behind his back. His impeccably tailored tuxedo garnished with a white pocket square.

"You know, I can't remember the last time I turned around, and you weren't there," the blonde groaned.

Steve chuckled. "You should be thanking me. Who do you think suggested to Pepper that Y/N attend this soiree?"

"Yeah? Well, let’s wait and see how the night goes before we declare you Cupid," Yelena quipped.

The evening began with a cocktail hour. Guests were treated to champagne and hors d'oeuvres. Then, everyone journeyed into the Rose Reading Room, setting the stage for the night’s festivities.

The Renaissance-style oak tables were now adorned with rich green tablecloths, each impeccably set with votive candles and white anemones. Overhead, twinkling lights recreated a breathtaking starry night on the ceiling, casting a mesmerizing green glow throughout the room.

The blonde reached the head table, where the rest of the team was already gathered, and found her designated seat. As she perused the evening's menu, you suddenly appeared.

"Yelena!" you exclaimed. "It's so good to see you. And look, we're seated across from each other. What are the odds?"

Yelena glanced down to the end of the table where Cap was sitting, and he responded with a smooth thumbs-up, causing her to roll her eyes. You looked beautiful in an elegant Navy floor-length short-sleeved evening dress. The textured floral rosettes and scintillating sequin accents immediately caught the blonde’s attention. 

“Yes, it is truly a coincidence,” Yelena said as she sat down. “It's good to see you, too. I’m so sorry I haven't been able to revisit the library. Working with this group of misfits…” 

“Oh, please,” you replied, waving her off. There is no need to apologize. I’m just happy that you’re here tonight.” 

“I am, too,” Yelena said, silently thanking the evening lighting for concealing the growing blush on her cheeks. 

Dinner was a delightful early fall vegetable salad and succulent braised short ribs. The gala's aura provided the perfect backdrop for a captivating conversation between you and Yelena. As you both immersed yourselves in the discussion, the blonde remained oblivious to the subtle glances exchanged by the rest of the team. Meanwhile, Natasha discreetly snapped a photo to share with Melina and Alexi.

As the speeches wrapped up, Tony and Pepper took the stage, presenting a check to the Chancellor of Education. Soon after, you and Yelena mingled with other guests in Astor Hall, where delectable desserts and lively music awaited.

Amidst the festivities, you spotted the New York Public Library President motioning for you to join him. Yelena's expression fell as she realized you would be pulled into work-related conversations and networking.

"I'll catch up with you later, Yelena—duty calls for me this time," you said with a playful smirk.

"No problem, see you later," Yelena replied with a casual wave.

"She's cool," Kate Bishop whispered. "Think you'll ask her out?"

"Think you'll notice that you're wearing two different earrings, Kate Bishop?" Yelena deadpanned.

"Dammit," Kate muttered under her breath.

Yelena laughed and strolled off, leaving Kate flustered.

*^~^*

Yelena wasn't usually one to hit the dance floor, but the elegant vibe, refreshing drinks, and company made her let loose. After begrudgingly joining Kate Bishop in the Bunny Hop, she finally sank into a chair, letting her blonde hair fall loose and kicking off her heels to give her feet a much-needed break.

Looks like you had quite a night," you teased.

Yelena shrugged. "You'd be surprised. This is nothing compared to a typical Stark Gala."

"Is that so?" you asked, arching an eyebrow. "I'll have to get the inside scoop from Steve."

"Mrs. Stark mentioned that you were the one who suggested holding the gala here. Thank you for thinking of us. It makes a difference for us to have all of you here."

"The library is incredible. It was the least I could do," Yelena replied with a gentle smile. 

A warm feeling tugged at your heartstrings and reflected in your eyes. After a long, contemplative pause, you gazed deeply into her eyes, and finally, with a sense of urgency, you uttered, “Come with me.”

Yelena's expression turned perplexed as she slipped back on her heels and followed you out of Astor Hall. The distant sounds of the party grew quiet as you ascended the stairs to the third floor and made your way down the hall of supervised reading rooms. Finally, you stopped in front of Room 319—The Pforzheimer Collection.

Yelena whispered, "Are we even allowed to be up here right now?"

"I am," you said with a sly smile. There's something I want to show you," you said as you pushed open the intricate mahogany door.

"This room is a sanctuary for English romanticism," you explained, delicately retrieving a first edition from the shelf. “I want to read you something from Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte`.”

Placing the book on a pedestal, you began to turn its pages with reverence, searching for a particular passage. As you did this, Yelena observed you closely, captivated by your presence. Your enchanting Y/E/C eyes scanned the words on the page, just as they had done countless times before.

Your eyes lit up as you found the passage you were looking for and read aloud: "I am no bird, and no net ensnares me: I am a free human being with an independent will."

After carefully absorbing every word, Yelena finally found her voice and spoke sincerely, "That was beautiful."

You nodded. “It’s the moment Jane finally realizes years of being treated like a thing, an object without feeling. Here and now, she declares her independence and fierceness of character.”

"Ah, that sounds familiar," Yelena remarked with a wistful smile, her gaze shifting downwards to the intricately patterned floor beneath her feet.

“It reminds me of you, Yelena," you explained, gently closing the book. Writers have poured their hearts out for centuries, trying to capture the essence of courage. But you? You embody courage in every step you take. You fought for your freedom, and now you do the same for others. That is beautiful.”

With her eyes locked on yours, Yelena leaned in gradually. Before you knew it, your lips met gently, like a delicate touch of a bird's wings gliding through the air. Your hands went to her hips as the blonde's arms wrapped around your shoulders. The kiss was unhurried, intense, and filled with intention.

You paused to catch your breath as you pulled away. "I think we should head back to the gala," you giggled—a warm flush creeping over your cheeks.

“In a minute,” Yelena smirked, caressing your cheek as your lips met again. 

*^~^*

Three months later 

Follow me this way," Yelena called, her voice carrying through the soft, falling snow as she led three young girls up the New York Public Library steps—a path she had taken with many newly freed widows over the last three months. Behind them, the iconic statues of Patience and Fortitude stood guard, adorned with festive holiday wreaths.

With practiced ease, Yelena guided the girls through the door. They gazed in awe at the grandeur of the white marble columns and staircases of Astor Hall. You greeted Yelena with a gentle kiss as they enter the Rose Reading Room. After introductions, you do your best to make your guests feel comfortable.

"We'll be happy to show you around whenever you're ready," you assured the girls.

“Why are we here?" One of them asked curiously. 

“You’re free to make your own choices now,” Yelena reminded them proudly. “And the library represents your freedom.“

Come on," you said warmly as you gently took Yelena's hand in yours. "We'll show you.”

[rattlyglitch]

Do it For Him.

Poison can come in all kinds of different forms. They can be flavorless or taste sour. Have the smell of something sweet or a chemical. Epel Felmier was commonly seen as the poison in his family though, the downfall of it. He was a child born out of wedlock from a woman named Estelle who had cheated on her husband with a widowed movie actor. Her husband left her when he found out she was having the child of another man and Estelle herself abandoned Epel to live with his grandmother and grandfather.

Epel had heard the story told by his relatives many times and was grateful beyond anything to his grandparents and made sure never to trouble them with his problems. He had never heard of his mother but at the age of three, he overheard his aunt talking with his grandmother. At the age of eight Epel understood the entire story of what his mother had done. There had even been a time he was yelled at for being “a poisonous child” and the children of the parents who saw him that way made sure to remind him daily of how their parents felt.

The early years of his life and the stories he heard of his mother made Epel hate Estelle Felmier. Before he hated her Epel had seen one of her pictures once in his life on accident after finding it in a storage room owned by his grandparents and Epel was now beyond thankful that he looked nothing like her and took on traits from his grandmother. Her hair was straight and black with some thin lines being a light green color that cascaded down her back like snakes in a dark river. Her eyes were brown and sharp while her skin was pale and almost white as snow. He used to think she looked beautiful when he saw her on the TV. But that love for the mother he never knew only lasted till he was nine. The day Estelle said that she never had a child and was happy that she was going to have a family was the day Epel's love for his mother died.

Her looks though and the personality Epel had heard others whisper of matched his housewarden perfectly. Estelle tried to be perfect in everything she did and even managed to become someone famous in the industry before she ruined her own life becoming a name not known by many besides the people who she grew up with. At least Vil was able to get others to see past Epel’s mother after he had shown the apple juice his grandparents made.

Business started up immediately after again and left behind the slow decline it had since Epel was born. Vil’s helpfulness whether out of kindness or by accident did help him see Vil in a better light than just a reincarnation of his mother just more beautiful but as a role model. Someone he could look at and see that destruction was caused by those in the wrong. Those who didn’t understand that didn’t understand beauty was more than a look and a tool but a weapon.

That was also why Epel was at the moment trying to mind his tongue as Vil tried to undo the knots in it after spelldrive practice. “I don’t understand how you get these ridiculously hard knots in your hair just during a stupid game. It’s almost like your hair is trying to fight the wind or something. It’s held up during practice too and somehow it still does this.”

Vil gave a tug with the brush at a knot causing Epel to wince. “Maybe we could try an’ get it undid tomorrow? That’ll be better than this.” Vil shook his head furiously. “We most certainly will not wait till tomorrow to get this knot finished. It will only cause it to become more tangled and worse than it is now.” Epel did his best not to groan and let Vil continue to work. “May I by chance try Roi du Poison. Possibly I will be more helpful?” Rook backed down when Vil shot him a glare.

“It is my job to make sure he will be ready before the event I’m taking him to. He must be perfect tonight. He knows as well as I do that this spell drive meeting with other teams could set him into a career in a professional sport.” Vil was right and Epel hated that he was right. Even if he wasn’t part of a professional spell drive team for long and wanted to help his grandparents out with their apple business if he could get a job like that then he sure would try his best to.

“I understand that but Monsieur Crabapple may wish to talk with someone else though that would better understand his likings. Not that you do not understand them, Roi du Poison.” Vil, who had now been able to brush through Epel’s hair with ease, simply sighed and released Epel’s hair. “I guess you are possibly correct. Do not take too long though Epel still needs to change out of his casual wear and into a proper suit.” Rook gave Vil a nod and the housewarden left without complaint.

“Thank ya, Rook. I do owe ya.” Rook gently ran the brush through Epel’s hair but quickly started to apply some kind of hair product to it. “Just because Vil is gone does not mean you may start speaking improperly. Know that this event is as important to you as it is to him. You can not act a fool of yourself as you are his guest. The only reason he agreed to attend this event is because you seemed interested in it.”

Epel was confused by what Rook said. “Vil told me the reason he wanted to bring me along was because he needed a spell drive representative and I was the best option.” Rook shook his head. “Vil is simply attending this because you showed an interest. This is why you, Epel must be perfect. If not for yourself then for him.” Rook finished whatever he was doing with Epel’s hair and removed his hands.

“You may now look Epel.” Epel looked into the mirror and away from his hair. The front of his hair had been pulled back into a braid that wrapped around his head like a crown held together with a golden apple hair barrette that had a bright red ruby as the apple and a brown crystal gem for the stem at the back of his head. “Now go and get dressed. Vil has most likely placed the clothes you are to wear on your bed.”

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7

(I totally got off task on working on my in progress Silver stories by making this au. It will be called The Poisoned Brothers. You will fid out the reason later on for this but I bet you already have some guesses.)

[thetormentita]

broken spear, crowned storm - chapter 2

peace is something so valuable yet so fragile.

Pairing: Original female! Baratheon x Baelor 'Breakspear' Targaryen

A/n: let's put some order into the Baratheon family tree! Valarr is just some jeaaaalous boy

Rate: Teen (+13)

“So, you are leaving.”

He doesn’t turn to face his own son, who had eluded every single white cloak or guard to, apparently, lecture him.

“Aye, just for a few days. Apparently I still have to make sure there are enough heirs to the throne in case you and I die.”

A moment of silence. Possibly the same thoughts he had during the meeting run through young Valarr’s mind.

“But there are enough! Mataerys, your brothers and their sons as well! How can—?”

His eyes spot the silken cloth, soft to the touch, with a small prancing stag embroided in it, resting in his cupboard, away from the rest of the world, and he takes it, carefully, before turning to face his son.

“I love my family with all my heart, starting with you and your brother, but you know as well as I do that things may twist, and the sort of ideal situation of our house may turn to ashes in case Daemon Blackfyre decides to start a war.”

Valarr Targaryen clenches his jaw, clearly upset at his father's words but understanding the gravity of the situation. The room is tense, the air thick with unspoken fears and the heavy burden of responsibility.

“Where are you going then?”

“Storm’s End. We need support, and right now the strongest army lies there. The Baratheons are proud, and possibly difficult to handle, but Lyonel Baratheon will not reject a good fight, and they will be flattered to host a Targaryen prince under his roof.”

“And how do you know they will accept? You look really sure, father.”

A sigh escapes his lips, a hint of longing and determination in it.

“It seems our house still has the need of heirs, and I will propose to lord Lyonel’s sister” clear surprise makes his eldest child raise both eyebrows, fighting to find any word to answer. “The lady Alysanne is a widow, married young to the then lord of Highgarden. I met her at the hastlitude of Storm’s End, some moons before the pasing of his then husband and a year after your mother’s.” Baelor bites his cheek, giving himself a moment to find the words he needs. “I do not intend to replace your mother with her, be aware of that. Lady Alysanne has gone through three pregnancies and with proper care here in King’s Landing she may be able to go through more and give birth to the heirs so seeked for your grandsire.”

He tries his best to hide his feelings towards the Stormlander, basically because he doesn’t know how she will react, but to think of her as a mere brood mare makes him sick.

“Did any of those pregnancies—?”

“I spoke with Bloodraven. Apparently she had a tough time as the lady of Highgarden and none of them were successful.”

“How can you be so sure that here she will start giving birth to babies?”

Baelor sees disconfort on his son’s eyes, and he can’t blame him. He may have felt the same if his own father had told him that he was to propose to another woman after lady Myriah’s passing.

“Intuition, my boy.”

Deep down, he refuses to recognize that a small part of him denies to accept that he is indeed scared of the future. Jena’s death had been hard, specially for both his sons, and created a necessity inside him he did not even know it existed. He had tried to fulfill it with his own duties and his family, sticking close to them, as if he was the concrete to keep the wall together.

But none had been there for him at that extreme. Nor they would be.

“I— I want to go there with you.”

“Valarr…”

“I want to, father.”

...

As soon as they leave the hut, claps of thunder announce the arrival of one of the biggest storms of the season. Despite being tradition in the Stormlands to pass each and every Autumn witnessing the destruction caused by the weather, they grew up used to it, and made to endure.

“We must hurry, m’lady. Maester Theomore said this one is going to be huge.”

Echoes of thunder along the bay give her goosebumps.

"Come on, let's get moving then," she approaches her mare and leaves the folded parchment in one of the pockets of the leathered saddle, carefully wrapping it first in a cloth to protect it from a possible wetting. One of the guards quickly reaches her side and helps her mount the palfrey, getting a polite and considered thank in exchange

As they leave the little fishermen village of Dawncoast behind, she closes her eyes for a second, enjoying the chill breeze announcing rainfall. With only the sound of the horses’ hoofs against the floor, and the branches of the trees dancing in a way that seems they are invoking tempest, Alysanne Baratheon can feel how each and every worry leaves her body, finally being able to be herself after all those years of pretending. She lifts her face just in time for the first raindrop to hit her cheek, smiling softly to herself. Shehad always found solace in the rain, a rare moment of peace amidst the chaotic world she inhabited.

A thunderclap echoes in the bay, as if the gods themselves were about to start a war.

Despite their efforts to avoid it, the downpour reaches their position sooner than any of them expected. Rain soaks through their cloaks, but Alysanne doesn’t mind. She is more than pleased with raindrops rolling down her skin.

When she was just a child, her lady mother used to tell her tales of old, legends of how the gods of the sea and thunder modeled those lands and its people, how their ancient seat, one of the most ancient fortresses ever built in the Seven Kingdoms, was built with spells, and promises of love, and bravery and defiance. Lady Elinor had cared for her four little stags as the most loving mother, but for her she kept a special tenderness, a recognition of the wild spirit and fierce heart that mirrored her own.

They are bordering the Howling Hill when a sudden lightning flash illuminates the landscape, turning their surroundings into a stark contrast of shadow and light.

“Fifty stags on your brothers getting mad at us, my lady.”

A cackle. Famed is the temper of the prancing stags, and still their own household has not get used to manage it for their own good. Alysanne is the youngest of them, the most accessible in times like these, and the one the guards and maids think they can trust when time comes to placate the fury of her kin.

The silhouette of the ancient seat of the Storm Kings shows itself, proud and untouchable. Its towering walls stand as a testament to time and tradition, drenched now by the heavens, but unwavering still. Aly nudges her mare forward, her eyes straining through the downpour to catch a clear view of the castle's gates, and before she can even notice, she has her escort surround her as a sort of unneeded protection.

Thunder rumbles in the distance as they approach the towering gates, half-anticipating the reprimand waiting for them inside.

“Open the gates! Open the gates for the Lady Alysanne!” the other guard shouts, and the guards upon the walls of the fortress rush to obey, maybe expecting a roar of anger from the youngest of the Baratheon siblings.

The rain goes heavier as they cross the fortress’ gates, the relentless drops soaking them to the bone. Once inside, Alysanne shivers, instinctively drawing the wet cape tighter around her shoulders with little effect, her mind only thinking of sitting by a flaming hearth and asking for some broth to warm her chilled bones.

“You just couldn’t wait, could you? You had to go out and risk getting sick” Lyonel Baratheon’s voice rings out, echoing off the stone walls of the hall. His blue eyes scan her with a hint of annoyance as some maids approach to take their dripping cloaks. “What were you thinking about?”

“It had to be done” she shrugs her shoulders, her piercing gaze meeting his, a clash of storms inside the very fortress that saw them grow up. “If we make haste, by the time Winter comes we will only have to worry about getting enough log for the hearths.”

Lyonel huffs, his frustration tempered by the understanding of Alysanne's relentless determination. Their father used to jest about them both being twins despite one being the oldest and the other the youngest of the siblings, and only the years she spent far from Storm’s End managed to soften the now Lord Paramount.

“Go and get changed before you catch a chill,” Lyonel insists, a touch of softness creeping into his tone as he raises a hand pointing to the stairs leading to her chambers. “We will talk later.”

Alysanne gives a curt nod before making her way up the stairs, her boots leaving wet prints on the ancient stone steps. The servants around her try their best to not slip and fall as she dishevels her hair, dripping wet, with little care. Once inside her chambers, Alysanne sheds her damp clothes, wrapping herself in a thick, woolen blanket by the fire as Rielle, her lady mother’s former maid opens the dresser and picks some clothes, leaving them over the bed for her to choose.

“Lord Lyonel was only worried for you, my lady,” Rielle speaks gently, tucking a lock of hair behind Alysanne's ear with maternal care, the old Riverlander being the only one allowed to look upon them all, carelessly roaming the fortress as if the stags were his own offspring. “Autumn storms are always unpredictable, and he cares deeply for you.”

Her gaze meets the woman’s dark eyes, silently, as in some kind of understanding. Compelled by Rielle's warmth, Alysanne softens, grinning faintly.

“If it were for him I would just rot by the window, sewing as the world outside forgets that I even exist.”

The woman’s tender hand upon her cheek comes as a surprise, but she finds herself leaning against the touch, swearing that if she closed her eyes the feel would be pretty similar to her mother’s.

“He’s not to blame, you know. His concerns come from love,” Rielle reminds her softly, and she has to give up, because that woman took active part in the birth of them all and nursed them against her breast anytime they felt like.

“Aly.”

He doesn’t even bother to knock, because Gowen knows she seldom locks her door— a habit, she suspects, left over from childhood. He steps into the room, shadows from the corridor clinging to his form like a cloak, the sound of his boots muted on the thick carpet as she gets her hair dried with a cloth by one of the maids.

“What is it?” Her voice is sharper than intended, but the storm outside makes her uneasy, and Gowen's abrupt entrance hasn't helped. For a moment she thinks she should apologise, because Gowen means no harm, he is still that young lad who had given her a dagger for her to protect herself on her way to Highgarden because none of her brothers could be there for her.

“The guards have spotted riders coming towards our gates.”

“So what? Give them shelter if they're weary or turn them away if they're not welcome," she replies, setting the cloth aside and slipping off the seat, her feet driving her towards the bed as she puts on the clothes picked by Rielle: a simple yet elegant gown of deep green wool, enough to spend the rest of the day locked in the fortress.

“They bear the king’s colours.”

Still with her hair wet, she pauses, looking back at Gowen with a mixture of disbelief and urgency until his words really reach her, making her rush out of her chambers, barefoot, only to quickly return to slip her feet in a pair of soft leather shoes. She hurries down the corridors, the echoes of distant thunder mirroring the drumbeat of her heart. Close to her rushes his brother, the youngest of the sons of the late Rickard Baratheon, who joins her as they near the main hall. His eyes, a sharp contrast to their stormy surroundings, carry the same urgency as hers. They only stop by the stairs, when the sight of the newcomers leaves her breathless.

Her eyes spot half a dozen men, all well armed but not well dressed for an Autumn south of the Kingswood. It takes her a moment to recognize the man leading them, the chiseled features and intense gaze unmistakable, once buried into the depths of her memories.

“Baelor Breakspear,” she breathes, a name almost forgotten as it rolls off her tongue, and the inquisitive blue eyes of her cherished Gowen meet hers, reflecting a mixture of confusion and excitement; now they would not have the need to discuss their preparations for the oncoming cold.

Once her heart settles, she keeps on with her path, quickly descending the stairs to join the group gathered in the hall as she keeps ordering the servants to prepare spare rooms for their unexpected guests. As she approaches, Baelor's eyes meet hers with a flicker of recognition, and a hint of a smile plays at the corners of his lips, making her heart skip a beat.

“Your Highness.” She curtsies once she reaches Lyonel, whose face reflects the same mixture of perplexity and curiosity as Gowen’s, and possibly hers as well. “Be welcome to our home.”

Baelor Targaryen inclines his head respectfully, his demeanor powerful yet carrying a weary grace. The man could compete with Lyonel, being only just a few inches shorter than her eldest brother, who keeps his hands at his back, trying to maintain his dignified posture despite the evident surprise.

She doesn’t recall the wetness of her hair until Lyonel’s side glance, quick as his sword, traces a drop falling from her temple.

“It seems the rain has caught us all off guard,” he observes, amusement gleaming in his eyes. “We are most thankful for your hospitality on such short notice.” His voice carries a warmth that matches the fire crackling nearby, and she finds herself oddly drawn to the depth of his gaze.

“Our doors are always open to those in need,” it is Lyonel’s time to show himself as the host he never expected to be. Clearly missing his bedridden wife, sweet Marya, he almost forcibly leans on her, trying to show their guests that Storm’s End did not forget hospitality after the Dance of the Dragons. “Come by the fire. Allow us to prepare hot water tubs in your rooms and some dry clothes before supper.”

The Crown Prince exchanges looks with a young lad as the rest of the party gladly obey. She notices how the young lad's eyes mirror the storm outside, a mixture of awe and expectation.

“What do we owe the honour to have you under our roof, Your Grace?”

Alysanne raises an eyebrow at Gowen, not noticing Lyonel’s simillar gesture. None of them had expected him to drop the big question.

“There are state matters that need to be discussed” Baelor hesitates only for a moment before responding, his voice steady despite the unexpected inquiry. “The Crown has a soft spot for the Stormlands and its fierce loyalty, and one of our goals is to ensure it lasts for at least another century.”

She realizes the gaze of the young man upon her, almost with a lack of decorum, only leaving her to observe her brothers, as a sort of analysis of them three. Only when her eyes spot the three headed dragon brooch upon his clothes she realizes that Baelor has not traveled alone.

“With your permission, we would like to go straight to the point, lord Baratheon.”

The lad stands straight, his stance reflecting a mixture of Lyonel’s and Baelor’s, as if he himself wanted to display an aura of authority.

“Then do speak your mind.“ Lyonel raises both eyebrows, almost urging them to reveal the purpose of their trip and spare them the formalities. Baelor exchanges a glance with his companion before nodding, silent, and place his dark eyes upon Alysanne.

"Our interest lies in the unification of our Houses," Baelor continues, his gaze unyielding and intent. “The Crown wants to count with the Stormlands in case of future wars to come, and with lady Alysanne to be its future Queen.”

[fl3shm4id3n]

𝓜𝔂 𝓦𝓲𝓯𝓮

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: @moonlightholland22​

𝐂𝐚𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨 𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐦𝐛𝐨 𝐍𝐚’𝐯𝐢 𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐞 (𝐬𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐝𝐮𝐛 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐞) 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐦𝐛𝐨 𝐦𝐨𝐦 𝐈 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ᴡɪᴅᴏᴡᴇᴅ! ᴊᴀᴋᴇ ꜱᴜʟʟʏ x Tayrangi��! ᴡɪꜰᴇ! ʙɪᴍʙᴏ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Tw: Death to child birth, past angst, reader isn’t very bright at first, age gap (Jake is 36 and reader is 22) 

Author’s note: I made Jake widowed for the fic to make sense, I hope this was to your liking :)

Masterlist

Jake had lost his Mate due to child birth, Neytiri was having a hard time delivering their last child Tuk. This birth was harder than the other times before, their was complications and their was only a chance that one would live. Jake had asked for Neytiri to be saved if anything, but Neytiri had chosen for Tuk to be the one to live. In the end, Tuk was the one that had been saved instead Neytiri. Her finals words to her mate was that loved him and their children, then passed on to Eywa. The children were divested by the lose of their mother and Jake had lost his mate. Their was no one to blame, this was natural death that most newly or experience mothers suffer. 

During the funeral on his mate, Jake held onto his new born child Tuk. He promised himself that he will love and cherish his children just as his mate did. Tuk was not to blame for this, no one was to blame but Eywa. No one knew why she did the things she did.

Time has passed, Jake was still grieving over his loss, he did not show it but his children knew better. They were also mourning the loss of their mother, but they knew that she would have not want them to be sad all the time. That night their was a ceremony and guests from another clan were coming over, so they had to attended the ceremony. Jake did not have the energy to go, but since he is to be the next reader, he had too.

The ceremony had began and the guests had arrived, they had been greeted by the clan as they stepped in. Jake wasn’t paying much attention until he spotted you. He did not stop staring at you as you had walked in with your parents, you were between Ikeyni and Tsentey. Who would of thought the most scary looking leader’s would create such beauty of a daughter. For sure you’d be their clan’s next Olo'eykte. 

During the whole ceremony, Jake did not stop looking at you like at all. his whole attention was on you. He noticed how nice you were to everyone, he thought you’d be like your mother or father but you were the complete opposite. Even though you had the same intimating white and red body paint with the bone headpiece. You honestly looked more angelic then scary, as if you were a gift from Eywa. 

You had been dancing with the other Na’vi, until you notice toruk makto looking at you. So you decided to pull him for a dance, so you went over to him and got a hold of his hands. “Come dance with me” you said with a smile, while Jake tried to refuse “no no it’s fine” he insisted but you weren’t having it, you then pulled him all the way to were the other na’vi’s were to dance. The whole dance you did not take your eyes off him and neither did him with you. 

After that night, Jake could not stop thinking of you, he then had asked your parents permission to court you, which they allowed. So he had began to see you more, you’d also had come to the Omaticaya village to see Jake, you had met his children who were just the sweetest kids you’ve ever met. You have been around children but just loved to meet people. As the time had passed he began to grow feelings towards you, like you did with him. You and Jake had got closer to the point that he had asked if you’d considered mating with him.

You accepted since he’d be your first ever mate, so again Jake went to your parents to get their blessing in allow you both to mate. Both Ikeyni and Tsentey had no issue in letting you mate with Jake, so again they allowed this to happen, but their was one thing you had to take into consideration. His children will and always have mother, and you would never replace that mother hey had. You accepted this since you already knew about the lose of Jake’s first mate. So before you and Jake could mate, it would be best to talk to the children about your relationship. The children understood the situation and they had no problem having you around since you were nice t them, so you technically got their blessings. So then you and Jake finally mated before Eywa.

At first your parents weren’t sure if they wanted you to leave, since you were their only child and not mention princess. You had promised that you’d come to visit them. When you had arrived to the hut you were greeted by the family who had been waiting for you to arrive. You had brought some of things with you, but their was two many things you had brought. Some na’vi had come with you to carry some of your things. Jake then talked to you about just having a few things here and the rest back home so when you went to visit, your stuff would be their. You agreed then send the Na’vi away back to home with your remaining things.

That was when Jake began to see more of you, you weren’t good with some domestic things. Such as cooking, hunting, or keeping the house in order. Turns out that you were basically pampered your whole life, both Ikeyni and Tsentey basically did everything for you. You were practically royalty. You may not have been good in those things, but you were great with the children. Most of your time you’d spend them playing with them all day until they got tired or hungry. You fed them fruit, but they needed more then just fruit.

So Jake had began to teach you how to use a bow and arrow, at first you didn’t want to since you didn’t find the point of it, until Jake explained how it is to hunt for food, so you began to learn. It was a bit hard at first but then you got the hang of it. When you’d manage to catch something, you’d get very happy seen that you did it. Next thing to teach you was cooking, you had seen your mother cook before so you knew a bit but just never did it yourself. So when Jake had began to teach you, it was tricky since you’d sometimes burn your finger. It was like teaching a child at first but you managed. You got the hang of things, you began hunting and cooking on your own, to you it was fun to do since you were doing new things. It made you happy seeing that you were able to do things for your mate and the kids. 

As the kids began to grow up, they had loved you like a parents, it was as if Eywa had sent them a mother, it’s true that you will never replace Neytiri, but they loved you as much as she did. You were always their for them, specially when they had began to go into teens, you knew that they were at an age where they needed guidance. You were very affectionate towards them, you never picked favorites since you just loved all of them equally. You never did favorites of any kind, it didn’t matter if one was more skilled then the other, you loved them all as if they were your own children.

At the beginning you’d be referred to by your name, but eventually they began to call you Mom. It was Tuk who had started to call you mom since she saw you as such, that night you had cried while telling Jake about Tuk calling you mom. Since then all the kids began to also call you mom. That made you even more happy knowing that they saw you as a mother, you knew that you will never replace their first mother, but you knew that the kids saw you as such. 

[akamikazae]

Im late af but!! I wanna know more about Natural born killers! Or Bokami! ♡

Ah! Thanks sm for asking Q ! ❤︎₊ ⊹ I shared a bit about Bokami here!

Natural Born Killers, Toji and Akami are my stinky lil dirtbags in this au. She’s just as done with jujutsu society as he is. She’s a ‘fixer’ of sorts. They meet at a dive bar one night, hookup, part ways, but they keep crossing paths. Sometimes they’ll work together, but for the most part they just pass the time until one of them wakes up in their seedy motel room to find the other gone, split town, some of the cash missing. Its a constant back and forth, until the day he dies. Both unwillingly to truly love again. I'm trying to write this one a lil different to fit the gritty, americana vibe I'm going for, so thats a fun challenge too!  

'Toji is a stoic man. The strong silent type. He only lives for the now, the money on his next job, the horse running the clock on the bet he just placed, the snarling snapping maw of the Doberman in the pit. There’s a weather worn look in his eyes, the crows feet and dimple beside his scar, a lifetime in those lines. Things they won’t talk about over a bottle of bourbon, sweet honey whiskey. Sat in his lap on the second floor balcony of the motel 6. Akami picking at a rust spot on the viridian paint of the iron wrought railing. Cigarette in her other hand, held to his lips so he can take a drag. They’re no good for each other but they’re plain rotten for anyone else.'

Akami grew up in a non-sorcerer family, she started seeing curses as a kid, she’d draw them in her coloring books over and over because they haunted her, her parents thought she was a monster-that something was wrong with her. They sent her to a boarding school in Kyoto. She ends ups finding out about jjk society and goes to school there for a bit. Kakashi is in this au, as a small unnamed background character bc he will always be her one true love! lol, He’s a distant relative of Satoru and they meet and fall in love, but the Gojo Clan doesn’t accept her as an outsider. I haven’t decided exactly why and how and all that, but on the day they’re supposed to marry he dies in her place. And she’s totally done with jjk society after that—which leads her to Toji.  

She didn’t plan to fall into this business. She had it made, fell in love. But she was no one, just another grade 1 from the sticks with no family name. Wasn’t enough for a distant relative of the kid with the six eyes. He had Snow White hair, no… silky silver… she doesn’t remember. He took her home for the Clan elders' blessing, hand in hand under the shinto shrine, but there was something in the sake cups. Akami doesn’t know if they planned to kill them both or only her; she spilled her cup when he convulsed, soaked between the ridges of the tatami. It was like battery acid in his lungs, smelled hot like a lightning strike. She can still taste his last breath. Made a widow on her wedding day. She could have been happy, but he’s gone, she is too. Or maybe she’s more herself than she's ever been. Only got to be someone else when she was with him, someone good, someone better. 

After Toji dies, Akami tries to put her life back together, moves to Shibuya, eventually gets stuck in the veil on Halloween Night. After being attacked by transfigured humans and running into Mahito she starts to fight back, and ends up aligning herself with Tokyo school. I do know that she see’s Toji again after he’s resurrected, but she’s not strong enough to hold his interest and he goes into Dagon’s domain instead.  —I toyed around with her and Kusakabe having a little thing during this time too, but I’m not sure. I do know that she dies in end, during the fight with Sukuna.

Thanks again for asking ! <3 wip ask game

[for-parker]

summary Peters and yours first mission is during the fight between Iron Man and Captain America. You know each other, having fought against small crimes in New York together before. But now, for the first time, you were on different sides.

word count 1800

tags peter is worried for reader, reader basically as a black widow, fem!reader, both of them are about 16 in this

a/n I thought this would be cute :)

Getting ready today was different than usual. Knowing that you weren't just about to fight anyone but some of the Avengers made you incredibly nervous. Merely a week ago Black Widow had approached you about it after finding you in the system of where she had come from. You'd managed to escape shortly after you'd turned twelve, some of your friends there had planned it.

Natasha - as she told you to call her - explained the situation to you and that basically you would be allowed to fight for both sides, as she would. Since you couldn't pick a side you decided to do as she said; fight whoever you have to.

Right now you were sitting in the car you had come in with Captain America, Natasha and the Falcon.

They were suspicious of you at first, understandably so when they found out you were barely seventeen.

"Alright, everyone that's here; I hope you know that you're going to be a wanted man after this," Steve explained and everyone nodded, one of the guys in the back shrugging, "Nothing new."

Wanda was the one to approach you right before you went to meet the others, telling you to be careful and that she'd watch your back. "Thank you, I appreciate it." She smiled and patted your back before concentrating on Steve and Bucky.

A short hand signal and you were all on your way to the helicopter in the middle of the airport.

Right as you're there someone lands next to it with a metallic clanking on the asphalt.

"Steve," Iron Man greets. He was taller than you expected and he looked intimidating. "Last chance to hand him over."

Steve shakes his head and tells his friend (you didn't know whether they still were friends, but there was some mutual respect that made you believe that) that he wouldn't do that, at which Bucky straightens up. Tony sighs and looks around with an annoyed glance, his eyes shortly setting on you.

"Enough of the talking. Underoos!" At the shout something way too familiar catches at Steve's shield and soon he lands on some kind of platform a few feet away. "Captain," Spider-Man (or Peter as you knew him) nods to the now annoyed blonde, "Big fan, Spider-Man." You keep yourself from chuckling at his awkward greeting to everyone and his short conversation with Tony Stark where he swoons over the suit. Why'd he have to be so cute?

When he lands in line with the team he'd be fighting for - which, sadly, turned out to be the opposite one - he seemed to realize your presence. The robotic eyes of his mask widened and you smirk a little before shrugging and turning your attention back to the adults.

It was a matter of minutes until the tension burst and everyone started targeting someone. Since Peter - who'd you originally planned to target - was busy with Sam and Bucky you start with James Rhodes (you'd done your research on everyone before and analyzed what was known of their fighting patterns).

He seemed reluctant to actually fight with the weapons the suit entailed which made you realize that none of the people involved in this fight actually want to fight. You were sure of your abilities but you'd never fought against someone in such a suit before.

"You a black widow, too?" He asks. You grin and nod, lunging forward and grabbing at the middle of the chest - where the arc reactor powering it sat.

He was quick to grab your wrist and throw you to the side, your body colliding with the white container standing there. Huffing you get up again, ready to keep him distracted from Captain America and Bucky, but he was gone already.

Angrily you run to someone else, your next target. Bucky and Falcon were inside but it didn't take long for Peter to be flown out of one of the glass windows by- a tiny drone? Whatever it was, it meant the guys could flee.

You weren't sure what to do now; you had started in their team but Natasha did specifically tell you to decide yourself who you'd want to fight for. You didn't end up coming to a decision and left to find Wanda.

While you were running to find her you notice movement from the corner of your eye and next thing you know Scott, or Ant-Man, is huge. He's towering over all of you and fighting against Iron Man, Iron Patriot and- Peter?

Smiling at the sight of him between all of the more experienced fighters you keep running, taking a different route when you nearly run into Vision.

It was too late because he noticed you, flying towards you in the weirdly graceful manner of his. Swearing under your breath you stop and shoot one of the electric shockers that came with your new suit.

Instead of catching onto him it went right through him and fell to the ground. "You can't fight me," he muses and lands in front of you. "I can try," you huff and run the last feet, jumping up to aim for his head and throat.

He did the thing from before and you landed on the hard asphalt. He grabs your arm, and twists it behind your back. Groaning from the pain you try ripping your arm away but he doesn't even budge. Why was everyone here some kind of enhanced being? Unfair, in your opinion.

But you wouldn't give up - this was your first real fight and you wanted to impress Natasha, who was fighting Hawkeye at the moment. You still for a moment to fool him, which surprisingly works, and harshly let your elbow collide with his face.

He groans and the look in his eyes changes. Instead of fighting back he lets you levitate in the air, making you incapable of moving. You scream when he effortlessly throws you towards the fight between Peter and the other three.

You land dangerously close to Ant-Man's foot (which was now bigger than you). The impact is painful and you're about a hundred percent sure you'd broken some ribs besides the other minor injuries you'd required so far.

Peter looks at you shortly and you notice the hesitancy in his body language, pausing mid fight. He seems to want to come and check on you but you throw a pained thumbs up and gather yourself before deciding to join your team partner.

"Hey!" Scott looks down and when he catches sight of you he reaches a hand down to let you climb up. With a thanks you do so and quickly land on his shoulder, where you can reach Peter who's been blinding Scott through sitting on the eyes of the mask.

It's dangerous but you do it anyway; jumping up and going to pull Spider-Man away. Iron Man is quicker though and grabs you by your waist to tug you off, "Go back to your team, kid."

Huffing you turn to punch against his helmet. He sighed loudly as your fists turned bloody from the hard colliding against metal but you didn't give up, continuing to try and do some damage.

"You're lucky you're so young, Jesus," he scoffs and sets you down on one of the containers nearby rather gently. Who knew he'd have such a soft heart? Peter yells a thanks at Tony and you smile at that.

Right when you're about to jump up again Scott miscalculates his movement and instead hits you with his hand. You're flying for a few frightful seconds and collide with some wooden boxes. This time you're not getting up again, your side hurting badly and your eyes barely staying open. There's a shout of your name but you pass out before you see who it is.

Peter watches with horror as you're flung towards the ground at an alarming speed. "You ever watch that really old movie? The empire strikes back?" He yells. The two older men grunt at another of his banal suggestions.

As he starts webbing Ant-Man's knees and arms though, they catch on and he hears a little compliment from Iron Man's side. Together they manage to make the other fall and he shrinks back to normal size upon impact of the ground.

"Mr. Stark, she-" Peter starts and points to your direction. He understands and grabs the boy by his arm, flying over to where you laid.

Landing softly Peter runs to your side, trying to shake you awake. His mentor lands next to him and runs a quick vitals scan of you - making sure there were no fatal injuries. "She's fine, just some small injuries," he reassures the boy (and himself, but that goes unsaid).

"Get her to the hotel, yeah? You're both done," instead of arguing as he usually would, Peter nods and thanks him. "Hey, (y/n). You gotta wake up." Groaning, you crack your eyes open, "Peter?" He nods and brushes your hair from your eyes. "Let's go, you did good. They don't need us anymore."

Nodding you try righting yourself but fall back to the ground with a pained wheeze. "Guess you need to carry me?" It's more amusing to you than it is to him when he grabs you under your knees and arms to lift you.

"Let's go."

-

You're laying in his hotel bed with your phone in your hand and his head on your stomach. He was on the phone with May, telling her about what he's been doing on this 'retreat'. You laugh silently as he makes up the events and he softly slaps your arm.

"Peter? Who's there with you?"

"Oh, uh, it's (y/n). She went on the retreat at the last minute." This earns you and him the next hour of necessary explaining of what you were doing there and how everything was.

When she hangs up Peter exhales loudly. "You're not in any pain, right?" Shaking your head you brush a hand through his hair, which was still a little damp from his shower. "Just a little sore." The strands were curling in the adorable way you loved and you wrapped one of the curls around your finger before letting go and continuing to pet him like a cat.

"You're so cute," you comment. He huffs, "I'm not cute."

With a fake offended gasp you nod your head, "Right. You're intimidating and strong, how could I forget." He rolls his eyes and giggles. As he's about to answer the door opens and Happy raises an eyebrow at the two of you. "Weren't you fighting each other back there?" You keep silent with your hand frozen mid air.

"I'm too old for this," Happy groans and turns to you again, "We're leaving in five minutes. If you're not at the car by then I'm leaving without you."

You're both laughing like crazy as you pack your stuff and get dressed, finding the whole thing highly amusing.

[istumpysk]

OPERATION ICEBERG: THE TIER LIST

THEORY:

Oberyn poisoned Tywin

TIER:

Low Probability: While not impossible, these theories are unlikely based on the current evidence.

[Tier list overview]

EVIDENCE:

First, what you need to know ->

Tywin Lannister was fatally shot by Tyrion Lannister with a crossbow bolt above the groin while in the privy.

Some believe Oberyn Martell poisoned Tywin before he was killed.

Second, the proof ->

Oberyn arrives in King's Landing with a single goal: to seek justice for Elia Martell and her children.

I came for justice for Elia and her children, and I will have it. Starting with this lummox Gregor Clegane... but not, I think, ending there. Before he dies, the Enormity That Rides will tell me whence came his orders, please assure your lord father of that. - Tyrion V, ASOS

x

He wants the head that spoke the words, not just the hand that swung the sword. - Tyrion IX, ASOS

Oberyn Martell was somewhat of an expert in the field of poison.

"To be sure, I have much to thank your sister for. If not for her accusation at the feast, it might well be you judging me instead of me judging you." The prince's eyes were dark with amusement. "Who knows more of poison than the Red Viper of Dorne, after all? [...]" - Tyrion IX, ASOS

Before the trial, Jaime learns his father is meeting with Oberyn and Mace Tyrell.

Oberyn's proximity to Tywin offers him a chance to possibly poison him.

"I fight with my left now. It makes for more of a contest. Where will I find my lord father?" "In the solar with Lord Tyrell and Prince Oberyn." Mace Tyrell and the Red Viper breaking bread together? Strange and stranger. - Jaime VII, ASOS

Oberyn shares foreboding remarks about Tywin with Tyrion.

"Your father," said Prince Oberyn, "may not live forever." Something about the way he said it made the hairs on the back of Tyrion's neck bristle. Suddenly he was mindful of Elia again, and all that Oberyn had said as they crossed the field of ashes. - Tyrion IX, ASOS

During Tyrion's trial, Pycelle mentions a poison that might be of relevance.

"Widow's blood, this one is called, for the color. A cruel potion. It shuts down a man's bladder and bowels, until he drowns in his own poisons." - Tyrion IX, ASOS

Tyrion thinks Tywin looks like he might have also consumed some poison.

"Let the gods judge. Ser Gregor Clegane will stand for Joffrey. He returned to the city the night before last, to put his sword at my service." Lord Tywin's face was so dark that for half a heartbeat Tyrion wondered if he'd drunk some poisoned wine as well. - Tyrion X, ASOS

Tywin was killed while on the privy.

He found his father where he knew he’d find him, seated in the dimness of the privy tower, bedrobe hiked up around his hips.

[...]

For once, his father did what Tyrion asked him. The proof was the sudden stench, as his bowels loosened in the moment of death. Well, he was in the right place for it, Tyrion thought. But the stink that filled the privy gave ample evidence that the oft-repeated jape about his father was just another lie.

Lord Tywin Lannister did not, in the end, shit gold. - Tyrion XI, ASOS

Tywin's corpse was notably foul-smelling and decayed.

The King's Hand was rotting visibly. His face had taken on a greenish tinge, and his eyes were deeply sunken, two black pits. Fissures had opened in his cheeks, and a foul white fluid was seeping through the joints of his splendid gold-and-crimson armor to pool beneath his body. [...] "I wasn't scared," the boy insisted. "The smell made me sick. Didn't it make you sick? How could you bear it, Uncle, ser?" - Jaime I, AFFC

In A Feast for Crows, we discover that Oberyn managed to poison Gregor before his own demise.

"He is so kind . . . but a headsman's sword is no fit end for brave Ser Gregor. We have prayed so long for his death, it is only fair that he pray for it as well. I know the poison that my father used, and there is none slower or more agonizing. Soon we may hear the Mountain screaming, even here in Sunspear." - The Captain of the Guards, AFFC

COUNTER-EVIDENCE:

For starters, all the "proof" above is flimsy as hell.

Next, this was not Oberyn or Doran's plan whatsoever.

"You mistake patience for forbearance. I have worked at the downfall of Tywin Lannister since the day they told me of Elia and her children. It was my hope to strip him of all that he held most dear before I killed him, but it would seem his dwarf son has robbed me of that pleasure. I take some small solace in knowing that he died a cruel death at the hands of the monster that he himself begot. [...]" - The Princess in the Tower, AFFC

x

"I am not blind, nor deaf. I know that you all believe me weak, frightened, feeble. Your father knew me better. Oberyn was ever the viper. Deadly, dangerous, unpredictable. No man dared tread on him. I was the grass. Pleasant, complaisant, sweet-smelling, swaying with every breeze. Who fears to walk upon the grass? But it is the grass that hides the viper from his enemies and shelters him until he strikes. Your father and I worked more closely than you know … [...]" - The Watcher, ADWD

If the argument is that Oberyn went rogue, then he's not even sticking to his own plan.

His intention was for Gregor to confess that Tywin gave the orders, kill Gregor, and then move on to the next target. Why would Oberyn hastily poison Tywin before that happened?

I came for justice for Elia and her children, and I will have it. Starting with this lummox Gregor Clegane... but not, I think, ending there. Before he dies, the Enormity That Rides will tell me whence came his orders, please assure your lord father of that. - Tyrion V, ASOS

When it comes to Elia, this is not Oberyn's style.

Oberyn needed Gregor to publicly admit his role in Elia's rape and murder, as well as the killing of her children. He wanted the crimes exposed to everyone, while openly disgracing and humiliating Gregor in the process.

I doubt Oberyn would find satisfaction in quietly poisoning Tywin without a public acknowledgment of his crimes.

He tossed aside the splintered spear and claimed his foe's greatsword. "If you die before you say her name, ser, I will hunt you through all seven hells," he promised. - Tyrion X, ASOS

Oberyn knows he'd be the prime suspect if Tywin were poisoned.

"To be sure, I have much to thank your sister for. If not for her accusation at the feast, it might well be you judging me instead of me judging you." The prince's eyes were dark with amusement. "Who knows more of poison than the Red Viper of Dorne, after all? [...]" - Tyrion IX, ASOS

During a Podcast of Ice and Fire, Elio M. García and Linda Antonsson dismissed the theory as "total nonsense."

I'm not about to listen to Elio and Linda's podcast, so here's a summary of what they said.

As an ASoIaF fan, you haven't known heartache until a chuckling Elio Garcia refers to your pet theory as "total nonsense," let me just tell you. Anyway, Linda does the bulk of the debunking, asserting that there's nothing about either death or even getting shot in the bowels that would magically undo the work of a poison that completely shuts down the excretory system -- since Tywin does shit as he dies, we can therefore deduce that the fatal constipation induced by Widow's Blood wasn't in effect. - boiledleather

(Out of all the things to say, that's her counter-argument, lol.)

Other things to consider:

This is utterly inconsequential; the story gains nothing if this is true.

I think it's critical that Tyrion was the one to kill Tywin and that Tywin wasn't already dying.

Doesn't him being on the privy suggest his bowels are functioning normally and not shut down?

Tywin's decaying corpse and foul smell are symbolic of his internal corruption and moral rot, not indicators of poisoning.

STUMPY'S THOUGHTS:

No smoking gun, no hard evidence, no definitive proof. George is much more explicit than this.

It's not a crazy idea, but it's unlikely.

VOTE:

I welcome discussions. Feel free to reblog, respond, or challenge my perspective—I won't be offended by any of it.

Please note, if "no" is the eventual winner, or if it's competitive, a second poll will be conducted to determine the proper location.

NEXT THEORY:

HS = HR

[The High Sparrow is Howland Reed]

[Main menu]

[6rookie-writer0110]

Don't go forward PT; 1

Yelena Belova x Barton Male Reader

Request - Yelena belvova x Barton male!reader where y/n is Clint's younger brother and his code name of White Knight. Y/n meet Yelena during Black Widow Y/n tag along with Natasha after civil war. He saw the fight between Nat and Yelena while he ate his snack. He was impressed that she almost beat Natasha, he also whispers to Nat that why she didn't mention she has a hot sister. He and Yelena get along well and they like each other.

You go with Natasha to Hungary, and while she is driving you are reading a Russian-English translation book. She would tell you what words you are saying wrong, which is a lot.

“Learning Russian is so hard!” You whined.

“Such a baby,” Natasha said.

“It's true. Plus reading Russian cursive is much harder” You said.

“You just don't know how to roll your ‘R’s and you need to sound confident when speaking Russian” Natasha said.

You rolled your eyes at her. You continued to read the book again she corrected you. But you and Natasha stopped to get gas for the car. She watched you grab snacks and she paid for them. Then Natasha drove to the city, and you follow her inside a building.

“Why are we here?” You asked.

“I’m looking for someone,” Natasha said.

You followed her into an apartment. Then Yelena aims her gun at Natasha then you take your gun, and aim it at Yelena.

“So... This is how Russians say hi?” You asked.

Yelena doesn't say anything but she glares at you and Natasha. Natasha does have her gun aimed at Yelena and you look at them.

“Y/n put your gun away,” Natasha said.

“But-”

“Y/n!” Natasha yelled.

“Fine!” You yelled.

You put your gun away and moved away slowly while looking at Yelena.

“I’m watching you, blondie,” You said.

Now Yelena and Natasha start to fight, you watch them. You are impressed by how they fight and you can see how strong they are. You start to move out of the way when they get closer to you.

“Do you need help?” You asked.

Natasha doesn't say anything and you keep watching. A few minutes later they stopped and you helped Natasha to stand up. You were going to help Yelena stand up but she didn't grab your hand. Natasha introduced you to Yelena Belova and Natasha told her why they are in Hungary. Yelena leaves with you and Natasha to the secret apartment.

While at the gas station, you are standing next to Natasha while Yelena is a little further away from you two.

“Why you didn't tell me, you have a hot sister?” You whispered.

But Yelena did hear you.

“There is stuff you still don't know about me,” Natasha said.

“I know. But I will always have your back” You winked.

Natasha smiled. You leave the shop with them and you sit in the backseat and start to eat your snacks. Natasha wanted to make sure the red room is destroyed and no one is in control.

“Y/n, you play with arrows?” Yelena asked.

“I don't play with arrows. I'm the best archer” You said.

“After his brother Clint” Natasha said.

“No, I'm way better than him,” You said.

Yelena couldn't help to laugh. You like how Yelena said your name and you start to smile.

You help Natasha and Yelena to find the rest of the black widows. Some were trying to take over the red room, but you helped them to stop it.

---

Natasha is talking to Clint in her hotel room. You met Yelena at a small diner and you sit across from her.

“I like your vest. It looks cool” You said.

“Right!? Such a cool vest. It has so many pockets that I can hide my knives” Yelena said.

She starts to show you all the pockets the vest has. Then she takes out a small knife and you start to smile at her.

“It's the first real thing I bought for myself, once I left the red room,” Yelena said.

“You made a good choice with a vest,” You said.

“I do have good taste,” Yelena said.

“Yeah you do,” You said.

---

You are in Norway, you helped bring items to Natasha. You are outside practicing your archery then a dagger went straight to the tree.

“Hello, white knight,” Yelena said.

You aimed the arrow at her.

“Hello Yelena Belova,” You said.

She starts to run and she dodged your arrow. You and Yelena start to fight and you are blocking her punches.

“Why do Russians fight to say hi!?” You asked.

“You are very dramatic” Yelena smirked.

You were going to punch her but she grabbed your wrist. She turns around and your arm is on her should and she is holding your wrist very tight.

“Argh!” You yelled.

She lets go and you are in pain.

“I told you, white knight, you need to be faster with your punches. If I was your enemy, I would have broken your arm and then make you tell me the information” Yelena said.

You wanted to be faster and stronger when you fight, you asked Yelena to teach you, and she said yes. You can fight but you have been relying on your arrows a lot.

“What brings you to Norway?” You asked.

“You are so nosy,” Yelena said.

You and Yelena smiled at each other. You and Yelena start to talk about stuff.

✫ ✯ ✬ ✬

You are in New York with Clint and you met Kate. You are helping Kate and Clint fight Echo on the roof. While fighting Echo then someone else joined in, and you can't tell it's Yelena because she has on a mask and she is wearing all black. Yelena kicked you and you fell on top of Kate, but you get up and helped Kate stand up. Yelena kicked Clint in the chest then he punched her.

You grabbed your arrow and bow and she starts to dodge it. Clint starts to fight Echo again while you and Kate fight Yelena. But Kate grabbed the explosive arrow and aimed it at the ground, a loud sound and bright light appeared. Everyone’s ears started to ring, but you tried to fight Yelena but she aimed the gun at you. You stopped then Yelena ran away.

“Who was that?” Clint asked.

“I have no idea,” Kate said.

Echo runs away and you are breathing hard.

----

Days later... You followed a lead and you are in shock it's Yelena. You found her in a hotel

“Why did you fight me and my brother?” You asked.

“Y/n, I was on a job and you ask too many questions,” Yelena said.

“Who hired you? I don't get why my girlfriend would take a job that would include killing my brother” You sighed

“Girlfriend? Y/n Barton, you think I'm your girlfriend?” Yelena said in shock.

Your heart starts to race and you just noticed what you said. She is waiting for you to say something and you are speechless... You try to come up with something but just couldn't come up with anything.

“Y/n, do you think I'm your girlfriend?” Yelena asked.

You walked away and leave the room. Yelena didn't say anything she just watch you walk away. You closed the door and run out of the hotel fast.

----

You are at Clint’s house and he is outside grilling the food. Laura is busy helping Clint and you are sitting next to your nephew.

“ Nathaniel, how do you ask a girl out?” You asked.

“Give her a cookie,” Nathaniel said.

He is three years old.

“She is a black widow, smart, I like how she says my name, smart I know I said it already but she really is. And she knows how to fight and I really like her a lot” You said.

You showed him a picture of Yelena.

“She is pretty,” Nathaniel said.

“Right!?” You said.

“What is love?” Nathaniel asked.

“Good question. Love can mean so many different things but it's someone you want to be forever with” You said.

“Playing games together?” Nathaniel said.

“Yes, I will want to play video games with Yelena forever,” You said.

“Wow!” Nathaniel smiled.

You spend time with Clint and everyone else. You start to play games with them and you get a text from Yelena. You showed it to your nephew.

“She texted me!” You said.

“Text?” Nathaniel said.

“She said hi to me,” You said.

“Hi!” Nathaniel said to your phone.

You start to laugh and he is just smiling.

✫ ✯ ✬ ✬

Yelena wanted to meet up with you. And you have been avoiding her for days, you are freaking out.

“Why did you want to meet here in central park? Oh no... You are going to kill me!?” You said.

“What!? No, I'm not going to kill you. We need to talk” Yelena said.

“About?” You said.

“You already know what I want to talk about. Why did you say that I'm your girlfriend?” Yelena said.

Now your heart is beating even faster.

“I-I... I like you a lot. I have feelings for you and I accidentally said that” You said.

“Are you serious?” Yelena asked.

“Yes, I'm serious. I really like you a lot” You said.

Yelena moved closer and you are thinking that she doesn't feel the same way. But what she did surprise you, Yelena put her hand behind your neck and kissed you. You start to kiss her back.

[viciouslyfilthy]

𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄'𝐒 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎 𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐓

🐀 {Basics} 🐀

Name: Quotittak Slinkbane.

Alias: retired Rat Mother; former Broodmother; giant rat; she-vermin; rat mom; Quo; Quoti.

Gender: cis female

Age: 200-400+

Species: Skaven

Zodiac: aquarius / aries / cancer / capricorn / gemini / leo / libra / pisces / sagittarius / scorpio / taurus / virgo / unknown

Talents/abilities: brute strenght (despite being a gentle giant, she is capable of things such as shattering rocks with a punch and lifting a whole chariot; she could easily snap a human's spine like a tree branch if she wanted to)

🐀 {Personal} 🐀

Alignment: lawful / neutral / chaotic / good / neutral / evil / true

Religion: She believes in the Great Horned Rat but she is not 100% devoted to it nor understands much about the chaos deity; it's just sort of a thing she's always heard about so it just kind of engraved in her mind without questioning it.

Sins: envy / greed / gluttony / lust / pride / sloth / wrath

Virtues: charity / chastity / diligence / humility / justice / kindness / patience

Languages: queekish; limited english.

Family: she likely has many Skaven descendants of her in the clans that get thrown in wars but she never really got to meet them ever since they were wee ratlings she nursed.

Friends: she doesn't have any for the time being, sadly.

Sexual Orientation: heterosexual / bisexual / pansexual / homosexual / demisexual  / asexual / unsure / questioning / other

Relationship status: single / dating / married / widowed / open relationship / other

Libido: sex god / very high / high (depends on mood)  / average / low / very low / non-existent

🐀 {Physical} 🐀

Build: twig / bony / slender / average / athletic / curvy / chubby / obese (?)

Hair: white / blonde / brunette / red / black / dark brown

Eyes: brown / blue / dark green / black / other

Skin: pale / fair / olive / light brown / brown / very brown / other

Height: under 3 foot / 3-4 foot / 4-5 foot / 5-6 foot / 7 foot / above 7 foot

Weight: under 100 pounds / 100-150 pounds / 150-200 pounds / 200-250 pounds / above 250 pounds

Scars: stretch marks on her lower belly (hidden by fur) & breasts; small scratches on her belly, back and tail from the ratlings being playful with her during her time as a Broodmother.

Facial Features: nothing much that stands out! She's just a giant rodent, her face is the average rat snout & short fur like most Skaven.

Tattoos: nope.

Supplemental: Quoti is disabled! As a result of the decades she spent in the same position making ratlings, her spine became twisted, malforming/misplacing some bones around her ribcage area; she requires a cane for support to properly walk and lean on. Unfortunately has to deal with chronic pain.

🐀 {Choose} 🐀

Dogs or Cats?

"Ohh... Quotittak never know-heard of smallthings before... want to care-love smallthings, yes-yes.."

Birds or Hamsters?

"So small-tiny! It is alive-live, yes? Ohhh! So-so small... like newborn ratling..."

Red or Blue?

She tilts her head, seemingly not understanding what is being asked of her.

Yellow or Green?

Same story. You might as well be speaking in riddles to her!

Black or White?

"Uhm..." she's getting uncomfortable, unsure if these words are supposed to mean something to her.

Coffee or Tea?

"...water, yes-yes?"

Ice Cream or Cake?

"Ohhh!! Sweet-things! Yum-yummy! Give-hand them to Quotittak, please-please?"

Fruits or Vegetables?

"More sweets! More-more!"

Sandwich or Soup?

"Yummy water..."

Magic or Melee?

"Quotittak not-not like fighting... but if must-need... to survive.... yes-yes.."

Sword or Bow?

"What-what that?" She sniffles the air.

Summer or Winter?

"Nice-warm... yes-yes! Quotittak sleep lots."

Spring or Autumn?

"Still giants shed! Like-like magic... warpstone cause-make this?"

The Past or The Future?

"Quotittak bad memory, yes... Quotittak look-see forward- always!"

[sakuramidnight15]

-DAC OC Information-

Character Bio

Name: Brendon Astlabor

(Japanese: ブレンドン・アストレイバー)

Romaji: Burendon Asutoreibā

Quote: “Do get ready, for things are about to get serious."

V/A: Natsuki Hanae (Japanese)

Gender: Male

Age: 18

Birthday: March 22

Star Sign: Aries

Eye Color: Pastel Blue (Left-Normal Eye), Light Teal Blue (Right-Beast Eye)

Hair Color: Soft Snow Grey

Height: 190 cm

Race: Inner Beast

Species: Glacial Widow Spider

Homeland: Revoltion City (4th Level District)

Family: Jose Astlador (Father)

Tiara Astlador (Mother)

Unnamed Grandfather

Unnamed Younger Siblings

Unnamed Relatives

______________________________________

School Status and Fun Facts

Dorm: Angelicana (@/multydoodles)

School Year: Third

Class: 3-B

Student no. 20

Occupation: Student

Pro Assassin/Hitman

Heir to the Astlador Clan

Club: Forensics Club (Leader), Gymnastics Team (Member)

Best Subject: Endurance Training, First Aid, and Lethal Poison Handling

Dominant Hand: Left (Secretly an Ambidextrous)

Favorite Color: Light Blue, Grey, White, and Light Green

Favorite Food: Blueberry Lemonade, Crepes (Chocolate with Strawberries), Fried Meat (Steak Mostly), Sake, Vegetable Stew, and Wine

Least Favorite Food: Jawbreakers, Sweet Candies (Mostly if their Apple-flavored), Goat Liver, Sourness, and Rib Meat,

Likes: Peace and Quiet (Mostly Indoors than Outdoors), Traditional Dancing and Music (Japanese or Korean kind), Playing Card Games (Specific with any), Ice Spiders with their venom (He doesn't mind if they bite him), Making Silk for Clothing, Agricultural Books,

Dislikes: Much of Clementine's Bullshit, Loud Noises (Only Indoors), Bug or Spider Haters, Too much Sunlight, Hiromi's Nagging, Wasting too much, Entering an overdose with his venom, Disorganization (Mostly),

Hobbies: Doing Assassination Missions, Studying Venomous Bugs and then Get bitten by them (Spiders Mostly), Making Silk for Clothing, Traditional Dancing with fans (Mostly), Reading Agricultural Books, Playing Card Games (Specific with any)

Talents: Inner Beast Sight, Beast-mind Takeover, Assassin/Hit men Skills, Venomous Acid, Tessen Skills, Stealth Master, Solidification Ability, Body Temperature Detector,

Nicknames: Bren or Ben (From his family and friends)

Widow (Assassin Nickname)

Brendon-senpai or Astlabor-senpai (From the freshmen students)

Benny (From Chloris)

Endo (From Allison, friendly tease)

Ren-Ren or Mr. Cool-fuck (From Clementine, annoys him the most honestly)

Ice King (From Akira)

Mr. 'Too-Frosty-Dick' (From Hiromi)

Other Nicknames:

N/A

______________________________________

Appearance and Personality

Appearance: Brendon has rather a tall and a muscular male bodybuild, though it looks rather slender and looks average for a male bodybuild at first. He has long soft snow grey colored hair which ties to an up and down ponytail style on a daily basis throughout his routine. Just like most of his inner beast companions, he too is also born with heterochromia. Pastel Blue colored on his left eye left while light teal blue colored in his right eye as his beast eye. Brendon is mostly calm with his manners though he seems to display a serious gaze.

Personality: Born as the eldest son in his family's lineage within the 4th level district of Revoltion City alongside with Clementine and Hotaru, apparently he would call his childhood rather colourless and full aside from his assassination training from his duties as a heir, apparently he's used to be emotionless and silent within his childhood lifestyle.

But after meeting Chloris back in the past during his those days thanks to his parents and grandfather of letting him having a normal life as a child, he then learns that things weren't so bad as he thought they would be. Alongside that he now has younger siblings to watch over, and in addition of meeting Clementine and her group. Brendon then slowly develop his emotions after the time passes.

Brendon is mostly mature within to the current timeline, though he isn't much talkative towards anyone outside of his circle but mainly he looks a bit cold from a different perspective but it shows that he's only like this is he's being normal and not having an attitude at anyone regardless.

Though he's just calm and collective but rather tends to be silent in his mood, seems to have regular common sense of mind but more in a neutral manner to keep this casual, with his usual group buddies such as Chloris however he's still the same but much more in emotion than being dull. Though he gets annoyed easily from anyone that is, such as from Clementine or Hiromi specifically, but much more from Clementine who often pushes his buttons a lot.

Beware not mess with him too much, because Brendon is the ice that cannot be thawed. Mainly he can control his anger but the look on his face alongside with his aura can explain much a lot that he's in an anger mood, whether it can be good or not but that's has to be avoided. He has dealt with many but wouldn't hesitate to warn some to avoid any necessary messes to be needed.

As one of the heirs within the inner beastial ranks, apparently he's still fun to be with if Clementine doesn't crack his nerves.

______________________________________

Trivia

-The name 'Brendon' means 'prince', and it is the anglicized form of the Irish name Bréanainn. While his surname 'Astlabor' means: 'A sharp-witted, optimistic being, A sharp-witted, optimistic being'.

-He's based from Yumi, from the Senran Kagura Series.

-He likes Traditional Dancing and Music in his room, apparently be knows how to dance with his other fans for the dance.

-Expert at card games, specific but can still play with them.

-Is mostly neutral with his dorm mates, but normally respects his dorm leader.

-Mostly reads a lot of agricultural books on his free time.

-He and Chloris had been childhood friends since elementary, but went separate ways at middle school. Then afterward they reunited in the same dorm afterward.

-He and Clementine had met a few times back during clan holding sessions. Apparently they used to be bitter terms to one another but not anymore. Though they still bicker a lot from time to time, and mostly fight hand to hand combat as well. Apparently, she's the only one who can push his buttons but they also respect each other as clan heirs.

-Does get along with Akira, although he doesn't understand Akira a lot sadly, but they both can agree with their annoyance with Clementine.

-Does not like Hiromi though, who often messes with him a lot on outdoor hunting.

-Allison considers him as his sparring partner from time to time in a friendly manner.

-Seems to know some of the half-myths or the other races aside from his own race. Such as Eldoris and Fursat within the Academy or Lynette and Freya within the other schools.

-Will get a strong heat stroke if he stays in the sun for too long.

-Back in the past after meeting with Clementine, he has surffered from a pierced through on his stomach from a wild beast stinger that resulted him to be injuired severely but Clementine has aided him and both of them escaped. Was hospitalized for four weeks.

-Has a pet male widow spider names Ru, apparently he safely kept back at home or there are days he mostly watches him over in his room.

-Is good friends with Himari though he seems to know a bit about her little 'split' issue that is.

-Knows how to cool off on summer days.

-Can create and sew silk clothing materials, especially on special occasions and events.

-His tone sounds rather neutral and calm whenever he talks, but when being provoked the tone and changes to a low and serious manner. Which is why I chose Natsuki Hanae to be his voice actor.

-Knows Fan Languages, though even it was used for women but uses it to pass the messages on his missions.

-Is mostly close with his main family and siblings, plus his grandfather.

______________________________________

(@deaths-academy-of-combat)

Next- is Chloris-

[hayzeelife]

Messing with the new girl.

Leksi's alarm goes off and she basically jumps out of bed to get ready. Excited for her first day at the weed shop she heads out to pick up her work shirt. As she's locking the door to her apartment she feels like someone's watching her. Trying not to make eye contact she pulls out her phone and pretends to text a friend while trying to get a look at the person. All she can tell is it's a shirtless guy with short dark hair and heavily tattooed. Trying to figure out what to do she starts walking to the street, less likely he'll try to rob her in a more open spot right? Tempted to make a run for the garage down the block, Leksi puts her phone away and takes a glance behind her. Suddenly he's right behind her.

This startles Leksi and he could tell but he casually asks if she's the new girl at White Widow. Confused on how he knew this she says yes and he asks if she likes the uniform. Who the hell is this guy and why does he know about her. Leksi tells him that since she hasn't picked it up yet she doesn't know, and even then it's just what her boss said to wear. He mentions he could put the logo on a jacket like hers, a cropped black leather jacket she's had since high school. Leksi must have been noticeably confused because her hesitation prompts the guy to finally introduce himself as Antonio, the owner of White Widow.

This information makes Leksi feel embarrassed for her assumptions about him. She tells him her name and he apologizes for startling her. They talk a bit about her knowledge of the city and he offers to show her around. Antonio asks Leksi if he can use her phone to call the valet. She asks what happened to his as she hands hers over and he mentions that his belongings got lost during his release.

Release? Leksi asks what he means and he explains he just got out of jail. Not wanting to pry but curious she asks what for. Apparently he didn't see the cop as he was lockpicking a car. They didn't seem to take him serious because he wasn't held for long. He calls for his car and they wait for valet.

While riding around he asks if Leksi's seen the Cat café. She did stop by on her first day exploring the city but it was closed. Antonio grinned and said "I'll open it for you." They pull up to the store and he runs in, hurrying to the back and meets Leksi at the front counter. "Hello ma'am." he gives her a boba tea and some sushi. As she's admiring the cats he grabs two doughnuts and hands one to Leksi, "Wait till we get outside." She was unsure about the doughnut now, why did he say to wait, what's wrong with it?

They step outside and he sits on the benches near the door. Leksi stands in the middle of the path, eats the doughnut and waits. She can hear Antonio trying to hide his giggling. Suddenly her vision is bright and colors become intense. Was there drugs in this doughnut? "Uhhhh." is all Leksi can say. "Don't worry, I ate one too, so you're not alone in this." he says, trying not to burst out laughing. "Oh great, That makes this much better." she says sarcastically, "So what's gonna happen?". He gets up and starts jogging around Leksi. "Nothing really, it's just a sugar rush, you can run fast, see?" She starts giggling at the way he's running, she joins him and they run in circles laughing until the rush wears off.

Antonio gets an idea and takes them to a garage, pulls out another car and hands keys to Leksi, "Not afraid of a little trouble are you?" He gets in the car beside her, "Follow me." he said, then speeds off, sure they were about to get hell for street racing, Leksi takes off behind him, trying not to lose him already. As they race through the city he's doing spins and driving backwards, disappearing then suddenly be back beside Leksi. She catches herself giggling at his antics. Not good. Leksi reminds herself of the reasons she moved to a new city and pushes the silly feelings she's having aside. Antonio pulls into the lot of Los Santos Customs, Leksi follows and he puts the cars away, offers a tour of the shop and calls a friend of his.

"Wolf maaan! Come to the shop and meet Leksi…… No that's not what I called my new bike." he turns to Leksi and grins, "She's a real person."

Uh oh, that grin, even if he didn't look at her, Leksi could tell his tone change when talking to or about her, sweet and low. He finishes his call and they walk the shop until a car pulls up. A guy with shades and a pink button up with rolled up sleeves steps out.

"Hi! I'm Wolf." He says cheerfully.

"Hey, I'm Leksi, a real person, not a bike." she chuckles at her own joke.

"Ohhhkay, you didn't tell me she was a smart ass too." Wolf says and they all laugh. Antonio makes a joke about Leksi not knowing how to roll and she snaps back with, "I asked you if you could show me where the stuff is at!" This makes him laugh, he seems to really enjoy picking on her. Leksi noticed the time and excused herself to turn in for the night. As she walked back to her apartment Leksi tried to process what happened. Having a first day of work become a joy ride with her criminal boss was something she did not expect.

🖤Evil Angel ~ Breaking Benjamin🖤

(part 3)

[heyitsjooooanne]

Just One

An elderly woman reflects on an impossible crush that she had during her youth.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

Author’s Note: I randomly put the poster for this short story together on Canva, but the design feels a little familiar.

If the design reminds anyone of anything in particular, please let me know because I'm still trying to figure it out, lol.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

"Rita, let me help you with—"

Rita shooed the younger man's hand away.

"I can handle it. I'm not dead yet, Paul."

Paul sighed and dropped his hand. In the thirty years since he met her, he knew better than to argue back.

He gently rubbed her back, then sat down at the dining room table only ten feet away from the kitchen sink.

The white kitchen was decorated with floral designs everywhere, starting with the tablecloth on the table, the curtains on the window in front of the sink, and finally, the dishcloths hanging on the oven handle.

Paul got up from the table and tapped the "on" button to turn on the TV that was on the wall adjacent to the kitchen sink.

After a three-second advertisement for a beer and wine hybrid drink, a sharply dressed woman appeared on the screen sitting behind a newsdesk.

"And this just in. Beloved legendary musical artist and producer Valentino Chen passed away last night at the age of 87. Mr. Chen was a widow for twelve years, but he did leave behind one daughter that he and his wife adopted in..."

Paul stared at the screen.

"'Valentino Chen'? Why does that name sound so familiar?"

Paul glanced at Rita, expecting her to jab at him for not knowing the answer, but to his surprise, she was looking down into the sink with tears welling up in her eyes as the water from the tap poured out next to her.

The steam from the hot water quickly flooded the sink, so Paul reached over and turned it off.

"Rita? What's the matter?"

She sniffled and wiped her tears with the back of her hand.

"I..."

She chuckled.

"Goodness. I feel so silly for admitting it after all this time."

She turned her head and gave him a polite smile.

"Valentino..." She chuckled again before resuming. "Valentino was, what would we say back in my day, 'kind of a big deal.' He was in a successful four-person pop-punk group for fifteen years, and it was during that time that I found out about him and..."

Rita giggled.

"My god, it's like I'm young all over again."

She sniffled again.

"I had a crush on him. Kids still say that, right?"

Paul nodded his head.

"And other variations of it, yes," he told her with a light chuckle.

Rita looked away and smiled softly, her eyes shining once more.

She turned to look at Paul again.

"You know the main character of my debut novel 'In My Eyes' was entirely based on him?"

"Lyle?"

Rita nodded.

"Damn. He was my favorite character growing up."

Paul crossed his arms and tilted his head.

"So... Did you two ever meet?"

Rita looked away and nodded her head.

"No."

She picked up the unclean dish and resumed washing it with the sponge.

"I was so naive back then. I liked him so much that I reached out to him three times in two years during that time, but he never responded back."

"Wow. You attempted to speak to him? A celebrity? That's pretty—"

"Delusional. I know."

"I was gonna say 'bold.' And... Maybe a little delusion—"

Rita tapped his arm with her hand.

"You rascal!"

She put a newly washed plate on the dish rack to her left.

Paul walked past her to grab the dishcloth hanging in front of the oven and came back to where she was.

He grabbed the wet dish and began drying it with the cloth.

"So, did he ever inspire any of your other work?"

"Well..."

She paused.

"Before that, his group inspired a short story about four young men in charge of a bakery. The story ended up being a commercial failure though."

"Is it online? I'd love to read it."

"I have it on my tablet. I'll show it to you later."

She handed him another plate.

"The story was my excuse to talk to him online. Although, I didn't tell just him about it. I told the entire group. And for a while, I..."

She trailed off.

She smiled and shook her head.

"I thought I was one of their inspirations back then."

"What gave you that idea?"

"Well," she handed him a bowl, "after I told them about the story, something about him was different. Of course, I chalked it up to coincidence. Someone like me couldn't possibly have any effect on him. And yet..."

She shook her head.

"So, you thought he was inspired by your writing?"

"Not necessarily. I vlogged book reviews back then. I would even get silly sometimes and reenact scenes from the books. You know, just to keep my channel more entertaining."

She sighed.

"And there was one book review where I went into this deep discussion on the complexity of human nature, and I still remember saying 'we can be brave, even if it's just for a few seconds,' in the video. I cringed while editing the video because of how stupid I thought it sounded, but I kept it in anyway. Fast forward to their next album four months later, titled, 'Just For a Few Seconds,' which had the theme of breaking free from society's expectations. They even made a tour out of it the following year. It also made them go from one hundred on the charts to number one in their musical genre practically overnight.”

"Oh, shit."

Paul set the cloth down on the counter.

"But that album title doesn't sound like a coincidence to me."

Rita chuckled and grabbed another bowl.

"I didn't think so at the time either. The album cover featured all four members pretending to eat sweets outside a cafe at night. Not exactly typical for their group."

"Given the album's theme, that sounds... Confusing."

Rita snickered.

"Their fans came up with all sorts of theories, but Valentino said no one ever got it right."

She handed him the bowl, the last dish, and turned off the tap.

"So, what about those two other times?"

Rita bit her lip.

"The second time was over a year after I sent the first message to the group. I finally finished the short story I had told them about, and I wanted to try reaching out to him personally. I didn't tell him I had a crush on him, which if I'm being honest, was practically gone by that time, but I wanted to thank him for being my inspiration anyway. And I couldn't live the rest of my life without at least trying to befriend him."

She turned her entire body and gripped the counter with her right hand to keep herself steady.

"So, I told him that he inspired my writing the story."

"Wait... What do you mean, 'writing the story'?"

"I just thought about what he would do. He would've written it no matter how silly it seemed. So that's what I did."

"He inspired you to write again?"

Rita nodded.

"Of course, stupid me unsent the message after two days. Then, two months later, I sent it again."

"And he never got it."

"I don't know. I deleted the unsent message, and the second attempt sat in my outbox for six months. There was no reaction to it. Not even a 'seen' sticker. I no longer had a crush on him by that point, so I figured it was time to move on. I deleted the message and that was that. But at least I tried."

She looked down and smiled.

Paul crossed his arms and looked around the kitchen.

Then his eyes got wide.

"Oh my god!"

Rita lifted her head.

"What is it, Paul?"

"Oh god, I'm so stupid."

He hurried out of the kitchen.

"Thank god!" she heard him say from the living room.

Rita narrowed her eyes and slowly walked over to where he was.

Paul, whose back was to her, held something in his hands.

"What's that?"

Paul turned around.

He brought an envelope to his chest.

"This came for you four days ago. I was gonna toss it because I thought it was spam, but thank god I didn't. The name 'Valentino Chen' is on the envelope."

Rita's heart skipped a beat.

Before she could protest, Paul opened up the envelope and took out a folded handwritten letter.

He held out for her to take.

She reached out and gently took it from him.

"I'll let you be alone."

Paul quietly walked out of the living room as she unfolded the letter.

Dear Rita,

She carefully sat down on the black sofa and adjusted her reading glasses.

I have no idea what I'm doing writing this.

And that's a little strange, isn't it?

I used to write song lyrics, and yet, I can't write.

However, I will try my best.

We've never been properly introduced, so...

Hi, Rita.

I'm Valentino Chen.

It's so nice to meet you.

You might not remember this, but you know that message you sent me and the boys back then?

We all read it.

Two of the guys even gave me hell for being more distracted than usual during rehearsals that week afterward.

And as for why I was so distracted?

Well, to be honest…

Other than rehearsals, you were all I thought about the following week.

Hell, the following year even.

And as cheesy as it is to say even in writing, just knowing that someone like you existed out there in the world changed everything for me.

You became my personal inspiration. My muse.

You were so pretty that I even had a crush on you.

And I just loved watching your book reviews and reading your writing.

I also read the message you sent to me the second time. Unfortunately, my assistant at the time accidentally deleted a third message you had sent to me months later, so I never had a chance to read it in full. But since the preview of it started the same way the previous message did, I can only assume you thought it had never been sent the first time and decided to send it again.

And I wanted to talk to you.

I really did.

But I was scared.

Scared I would never be good enough for you, but even more than that, I was scared of what everyone else would think if I spoke to you.

Additionally, I was in the States while you were in Europe.

So, I never gave us a chance.

I was a coward.

Don't get me wrong. I'm grateful for how my life turned out.

But I have just one regret.

And that's not taking advantage of your attempts to connect with me.

And I am truly sorry for making that choice all those years ago.

But as the saying goes, "Better late than never."

Which is why you're free to write a reply back or call the number I've left on the bottom of this letter. 

Or not. It's your choice.

But I would really love to hear from you.

So please consider it, at least.

Also, happy belated birthday.

It's your birthday today as I'm writing this. You mentioned it online back then, and I never forgot it.

91 is quite the accomplishment. I hope I'm blessed enough to make it to that age. God willing, maybe we'll spend it together.

All my love,

Valentino

P.S. Our album "Just For a Few Seconds" was mostly inspired by you. That's why our fans could never figure it out.

xoxo

Paul, who was sitting at the dining table in the kitchen, watched as Rita put her face down in her hands.

He immediately got up from the table and joined her on the couch.

He rubbed her back as she continued to sob quietly.

xx

[signalwatch]

Watched:  09/21/2023

Format:  TCM

Viewing:  Second

Director:  Douglas Sirk

Sometimes you just need a good cry.  This is the movie to make you do it whether you like it or not.

Way back in the mid-90's when I was going through film school, we, of course, had screenings of films.  The movies were curated and representative of a variety of eras, forms, genres, etc...  all tee'd up to illustrate whatever the instructors planned to discuss that week.  It's a weird way to do homework, but we saw some great stuff.  Also, I got to learn to sit with films that were never going to be my cup of tea, especially at age 19 or so.

One of the films shown was Imitation of Life, a 1959 melodrama spanning decades and following a young, widowed white woman, Lora (Lana Turner), who teams up with an African-American single mother, Annie (Juanita Moore), to jointly raise daughters of a similar age.  

It's actually a remake of a film I haven't seen from 1934, starring Claudette Colbert and Louise Beavers.  And one day I'll watch that one, too.

During the same meet-cute where Annie and Lora meet, Steve (John Gavin) appears as a photographer, indirectly getting Lora her first gig and - as this is Lana Turner - deciding to woo her.  Lora welcomes Annie and her daughter into their humble apartment, and as Annie settles into triple role of housekeeper, best friend, co-mother, Lora's dreams of success on the stage suddenly take off. 

At the half-way point, the movie escalates quickly.  We have a time shift to the end of the girl's high  school careers.  Lora's daughter, Susie (Sandra Dee), is a perky, happy rich blonde girl attending a nearby boarding school.  Annie's daughter, Sarah Jane (Susan Kohner), has matured into a lovely but bitter girl.  Early signs of her wishing to "pass" as white have grown, and now she's hiding her mother and the fact she's Black from anyone she can.

To put a point on it, the title has meaning!  As Lora is focused on her career, she misses what's happening with her daughter, with Sarah Jane and - finally - Annie.  She's been able to outsource her mothering role to her friend, running from job to job, and having no real interest in what's happening with Sarah Jane other than a detached view of her friend being upset.  But Susie herself is living in a world of illusion - believing she's falling in love with Steve, who's essentially treating her like his daughter or pal.  

Sarah Jane's story is paired with Annie - who can't do anything to help her daughter and stay in her life.  The dialog may be a bit clunky by 2023 standards, but in 1959 as much as today, this is some rough stuff to watch in the best way.  

SPOILERS

Look, Annie is slowly dying over the last 45 minutes of the movie, and nobody fucking notices, even as she's lying in bed.  Lora is preoccupied with Steve, her career, etc..., Sarah Jane has run off to the West Coast to live as a white woman, and Susie is convinced she's marrying Steve - and when that doesn't work out, she's going to run away to Colorado.

Annie can't save these people from themselves, and she can't be there for them anymore.  

Anyway, she passes - and you think you're okay, until the funeral and there's Mahalia Jackson.  And I was utterly wrecked.

Back in my college days, by the end of the film, the snobby film kids were largely locked in, myself included.  I think I was more invested this time than even on a first viewing.

Melodrama gets some side-eye.  We think of it as "soap opera" or low-class.  There's surely some misogyny baked into this take as this film, and many others aimed at women, were busily passing the Bechdel test decades before it was dreamed up - and this doesn't deal much at all with masculine interests or pursuits.  But at the end of the day, melodrama can be more universally understood than big concept pictures and the accessibility of the emotional content - when done well - can carry over complicated ideas.  This is a movie about challenges the audience who showed up for a Lana Turner movie* may not have been aware they were getting.

The movie is matter-of-fact about the world to which Sarah Jane is reacting, and her desire to want something other than the race-based class system into which she was born is understandable, if utterly tragic..  But the love of a mother being so great that she has to let her daughter go is some moving stuff.  You hope that audiences of 1959 (or 2023) understood their part in the tragedy.  Only in death is Annie truly appreciated.

It's Sirk, so every frame is gorgeous, and I half want to re-watch immediately to determine some of what he did to drive the story with camera and lighting - with astounding use of technicolor in mostly domestic, not-exotic locations or sets.  This is his final Hollywood melodrama, and I've only seen this one and All That Heaven Allows.  I'm curious to check out more.    

*prior to making this movie, Turner had been caught up in a sensational news story as her mobster boyfriend was killed by her own daughter who was protecting Turner from physical abuse.  Prior to that, Turner was considered one of the sexiest women in film (see: The Postman Always Rings Twice), and arguably Turner was continuing her run of doing quite well in this department with this film.