#hale-life 1

[iamjurmy]

this snark is the dog from hl1

[bleedingheartquotes]

Liz: Selkie, you can do anything you want. I have total faith in you. Selkie: Since when? Liz: Since Mom yelled at me.

[cakesplice]

lol i cant find mg fucking post where i was like "jen harding and judy hale is tokomaru" because actually i lied and theyre actually komahina

[welcometohale]

I miss my mom :/

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

POPULAR DEREK SIMPING FOR NERD STILESSS (please <333)

Sure thing!

Come Along Because I Love Your Face by cardel

(1/1 I 1,035 I General)

Derek doesn’t mean to stare, he knows it’s rude but he can’t seem to help it. The guy has been talking to his circle of friends for the better part of the lunch period and they’re all listening, riveted, just like Derek.

Hot Nerd Alert by alisvolatpropiis

(1/1 I 4,537 I Not Rated)

Derek can't believe he's actually doing this: taking a selfie snap of the guy he’s been crushing on for weeks to prove to Danny that one, yes, he really does exist, and two, he really is that hot and thus he is totally justified in being too scared to make a move.

Or you know, even talk to the guy outside of the class they share.

In his defense, this isn’t just any guy. This THE guy. Hot Nerd. The utterly adorable but still somehow insanely sexy freshman in his twentieth century American Lit class who he’s been lusting over since the first day of the semester. If there were ever a time for him to be that person who tries to be subtle while taking snaps of other people, this is it.

Game On by stilinskisparkles

(1/1 I 6,391 I Teen)

Derek first sees him from across the quad four days into fall semester. He’s sitting on one of the long benches, a marker pen in his mouth, grinning at something the kid lounging on the bench beside him is saying. When he laughs properly he pulls the pen out and throws his head back, his neck a long, lean line Derek is entranced by. He flicks the page in his book and highlights something, tossing the cap up in the air and catching it with his teeth.

Playing Hard To Get by stereksterek

(3/3 I 6,911 I Not Rated)

“Is that your best pick-up line?”

Derek was taken aback by the blatant call-out from his clearly intelligent mate, but if anything it just made him grin.

“I can do better.”

“Then why would you start with something that wasn’t your best? Maybe you’re not really that interested in me and could go and reflect on that somewhere else?”

Before Derek could refute his mate’s doubt with all the ferocity of his wolf, Stiles turned back to the bookshelf and continued searching for the book he'd been looking for. Apparently his mate wanted to play hard to get, but that was fine with Derek. He didn’t mind a challenge.

“Trust me. No one could be more interested in you than me.”

living in a movie i've watched by thoughtsandthings

(13/13 I 20,995 I Teen)

Stiles scrambles to his feet and holds his hand over his heart like he’s about to recite the Pledge of Allegiance. “I solemnly swear I will try my damnedest to woo the crap out of Derek Hale.”

Scott laughs and tosses a couch pillow at his head. “Deal."

Stiles and Scott shake on it.

But Then What... by Stoney

(3/3 I 24,343 I Explicit)

Senior year is almost over, and all Stiles needs to do is keep his head down to survive. A teacher calls in a favor, leaving him stuck tutoring Derek Hale, one of the most popular jocks in school and a member of a group of douchecanoes who have bullied Stiles for years. He's someone Stiles totally hates. Totally. Like, doesn't like him even a little bit. DEFINITELY isn't attracted to him.

Except that is a total lie. Fuck his life, seriously.

[ardafanonarch]

Hi there! This blog is a very cool concept.

If you feel up to it, I'd like to know where the idea of Maedhros as a diplomat and scholar comes from.

In fic he's often portrayed as such in Valinor, serving at Finwë's court, sometimes being close with Fingolfin, bring into linguistics, etc.

Thank you!

Maedhros the Diplomat (with an Addendum on Maedhros the Scholar)

[~3.4k Words]

Ah, Maedhros. A treasure trove of fanon for our first excavation. As this is also our first investigation of characterisation, let’s establish a structure for talking about characters.

There are two ways that we learn what a character is like from The Silmarillion:

The narrator tells us, either: a. with short, pithy statements (someone is “wise” or “steadfast” or “greatest”) b. with longer descriptions

We deduce character from their actions and their relationships to others.

Using this structure, let’s look briefly as what we know about Maedhros.

1a.

Maedhros isn’t “mightiest in skill of word and hand” like his father or “the strongest, the most steadfast, and the most valiant” like Fingolfin. He isn’t even noted as being particularly good at anything like his brothers Maglor “the mighty singer,” Curufin “who inherited most if his father’s skill of hand,” or Celegorm, Amrod, and Amras who were all skilled hunters. He’s not even noteworthy for any negative traits like Caranthir, “the harshest of the brothers and the most quick to anger.”

Despite being one of the story’s protagonists, and certainly the most narratively prominent of the sons of Fëanor, all Maedhros gets in this category is “tall”[1].

1b.

In this category, Maedhros gets more fully fleshed-out:

[At Lake Mithrim] Maedhros in time was healed; for the fire of life was hot within him, and his strength was of the ancient world, such as those possessed who were nurtured in Valinor. His body recovered from his torment and became hale, but the shadow of his pain was in his heart; and he lived to wield his sword with left hand more deadly than his right had been. The Silmarillion, “Of the Return of the Noldor”

Maedhros did deeds of surpassing valour, and the Orcs fled before his face; for since his torment upon Thangorodrim his spirit burned like a white fire within, and he was as one that returns from the dead. The Silmarillion, “Of the Ruin of Beleriand”

Perhaps one of the most striking descriptions of Maedhros comes from an abandoned alliterative verse poem, The Flight of the Noldoli (=Noldor), published in The Lays of Beleriand and dating to 1925 — about a year before Tolkien first put the “Silmarillion” into a prose format in the annalistic-historical mode of the published text.

... and Maidros tall (the eldest, whose ardour yet more eager burnt than his father’s flame, than Fëanor’s wrath; him fate awaited with fell purpose.) Flight of the Noldoli, lines 123-126

Fire, valour, pain, deadliness, wrath, doom. Taken alone, these passages don’t exactly suggest "diplomat and scholar," yet those qualities are a cornerstone how we often see Maedhros discussed and portrayed by fans. So why?

2.

Maedhros the Diplomat, at least, seems to be based on what he does in canon.

Pausing for a moment, what does it actually mean to be "diplomatic"?

Here’s from Merriam-Webster under diplomatic:

[…]

of, relating to, or concerned with the art and practice of conducting negotiations between nations: of, relating to, or concerned with diplomacy or diplomats.

employing tact and conciliation especially in situations of stress

And for diplomacy:

the art and practice of conducting negotiations between nations

skill in handling affairs without arousing hostility: TACT

It’s worth noting that the first use of the word diplomacy dates to the 18th century (1766) and the concept itself is somewhat anachronistic to the pre-modern world of the “Silmarillion.” However, it’s not difficult to apply the spirit of an “art and practice of negotiations between nations” to First Age Beleriand. We’ll also consider the secondary definition of “tact.”

The Case for Maedhros the Diplomat

Let's look at some times that Maedhros practiced diplomacy and was diplomatic:

1. Waiving his claim to the kingship of the Noldor in favour of Fingolfin:

For Maedhros begged forgiveness for the desertion in Araman; and he waived his claim to kingship over all the Noldor, saying to Fingolfin: ‘If there lay no grievance between us, lord, still the kingship would rightly come to you, the eldest here of the house of Finwë, and not the least wise.’ The Silmarillion, “Of the Return of the Noldor”

Is this an instance of diplomacy? Yes: resolving conflict by removing one’s own claim to a title.

Is it diplomatic? The dialogue seems pretty tactful — demonstrating deference, employing flattery and logic — and is definitely an improvement on Fëanor’s approach to the contested kingship!

2. Brother-wrangling

There are two significant instances of this in the Silmarillion:

resolving conflict

After an argument breaks out between Angrod and Caranthir over Angrod’s authority to act as messenger to Thingol, “Maedhros indeed rebuked Caranthir … But Maedhros restrained his brothers, and they departed from the council…" (“Of the Return of the Noldor”)

Is this an instance of diplomacy? Yes: removing threats to peaceable relations between rulers.

Is it diplomatic? Since we don’t know exactly how Maedhros rebuked Caranthir and restrained his brothers, it’s hard to say how tactfully it was done. Maybe.

removing to the Eastern march

There Maedhros and his brothers kept watch, gathering all such people as would come to them, and they had few dealings with their kinsfolk westward, save at need. It is said indeed that Maedhros himself devised this plan, to lessen the chances of strife, and because he was very willing that the chief peril of assault should fall upon himself. The Silmarillion, “Of the Return of the Noldor”

Is this an instance of diplomacy? Yes: again removing threats to peaceable relations between rulers. Also involves gathering followers. Notably, the strategy seems to have worked for as long as it lasted (that is, until Celegorm and Curufin found themselves in Nargothrond).

Is it diplomatic? Again, unclear how Maedhros executed this plan, but the narrator’s tone here is quite approving so it’s reasonable to assume that it was done tactfully.

3. Remaining on good terms with the other Princes of the Noldor

A few examples of this:

Continuing from the preceding passage, “he remained for his part in friendship with the houses of Fingolfin and Finarfin, and would come among them at times for common counsel.” (“Of the Noldor in Beleriand”)

Is this an instance of diplomacy? Yes.

Is it diplomatic? Yes: extra diplomacy points for taking it upon himself to go to them.

He (with Maglor) attended Mereth Aderthad, the Feast of Reuniting. (“Of the Noldor in Beleriand”)

Is this an instance of diplomacy? Yes, though showing up to the High King’s peace party seems like pretty bare minimum lordly behaviour, not exemplary diplomacy.

Is it diplomatic? We don’t know except through the absence of any evidence to the contrary. Since the Mereth Aderthad was overall a diplomatic success, it’s reasonable to assume Maedhros contributed to that success and stayed on his best behaviour.

He (with Maglor) goes hunting with Finrod. (“Of the Coming of Men into the West”)

Is this an instance of diplomacy? Sure: a leisurely hunting trip with the cousin whose kin you once killed (oops) is a good move.

Is it diplomatic? Again, lacking evidence to the contrary, reasonable to assume Maedhros behaved himself and the trip went off without conflict.

Remaining on good terms in particular with “Fingon, ever the friend of Maedhros” (“Of the Fifth Battle: Nirnaeth Arnoediad”). The anecdote about the history of the Dragon-helm (below), which has it pass from Maedhros to Fingon, additionally attests that these two “often exchanged tokens of friendship.”

Is this an instance of diplomacy? Yes: in particular, the exchange of tokens of friendship between rulers.

Is it diplomatic? Unless we imagine Fingon was himself tactless (which is contradicted by what we’re told about him elsewhere) and their friendship was built around being mutually despicable (see: Celegorm and Curufin), fair to assume this was all done courteously.

4. Making alliances

with the Sindar

We know that many Sindar outside Doriath joined themselves to and followed the princes of the Noldor, presumably including the sons of Fëanor. (The Grey Annals §48 in The History of Middle-earth Vol. 11: The Wars of the Jewels, and elsewhere).

with the Dwarves

In the preparations for the Nirnaeth Arnoediad:

... Maedhros had the help of the Naugrim, both in armed force and in great store of weapons; and the smithies of Nogrod and Belegost were busy in those days. The Silmarillion, “Of the Fifth Battle: Nirnaeth Arnoediad”

Also, from the Narn i hîn Húrin in Unfinished Tales:

[The Dragon-helm of Dor-lómin] was given by Azaghâl to Maedhros, as guerdon for the saving of his life and treasure, when Azaghâl was waylaid by Orcs upon the Dwarf-road in East Beleriand.

Azaghâl then sacrifices himself and his people at the Nirnaeth, making the Fëanorian retreat possible.

with the Easterlings

But Maedhros, knowing the weakness of the Noldor and the Edain, whereas the pits of Angband seemed to hold store inexhaustible and ever-renewed, made alliance with these new-come Men, and gave his friendship to the greatest of their chieftains, Bor and Ulfang. And Morgoth was well content; for this was as he had designed. The sons of Bor were Borlad, Borlach, and Borthand; and they followed Maedhros and Maglor, and cheated the hope of Morgoth, and were faithful. The sons of Ulfang the Black were Ulfast, and Ulwarth, and Uldor the accursed; and they followed Caranthir and swore allegiance to him, and proved faithless. The Silmarillion, “Of the Fifth Battle: Nirnaeth Arnoediad”

the Union of Maedhros

Perhaps Maedhros' most-cited and most famous act of "diplomacy":

Yet Morgoth would destroy them all, one by one, if they could not again unite, and make new league and common council; and he began those counsels for the raising of the fortunes of the Eldar that are called the Union of Maedhros. The Silmarillion, “Of the Fifth Battle: Nirnaeth Arnoediad”

And [Maedhros] gathered together again all his brothers and all the people who would follow them; and the Men of Bor and Ulfang were marshalled and trained for war, and they summoned yet more of their kinsfolk out of the East. Moreover in the west Fingon, ever the friend of Maedhros, took counsel with Himring, and in Hithlum the Noldor and the Men of the house of Hador prepared for war. The Silmarillion, “Of the Fifth Battle: Nirnaeth Arnoediad”

Are these instances of diplomacy? Yes: protecting neighbours, gathering followers, establishing partnerships, forming alliances with other groups of peoples, and organising a major offensive on a common enemy.

Is it diplomatic? Again, absence to the contrary and general success suggests Maedhros conducted himself tactfully in all of these dealings. One thing: I have seen a tendency in fandom to credit superior leadership and diplomacy on the part of Maedhros and Maglor for the fact that their Easterling allies remain faithful while Caranthir’s do not. Maybe; but bear in mind that’s a deduction, not something the text explicitly states.

I am sure there are other tidbits here and there to support the diplomatic ability of Maedhros, but I think we have enough here to conclude the Maedhros the Diplomat is a fanon characterisation with support it in canon.

The Case against Maedhros the Diplomat

So Maedhros was a diplomat; but was Maedhros an exemplary diplomat, as the prominence of his characterisation as such would suggest, or just an average one? Let us look at some of Maedhros’ diplomatic failings.

1. hubris, attempted deception

Look: we can’t neglect that Maedhros is behind one of the most disastrous failures of diplomacy in the First Age — his attempt to parley with Morgoth that ends up getting him captured.

Though not in the published Silmarillion, in the 1937 Quenta Silmarillion, Fëanor with his dying breath tells his sons “never to treat or parley with their foe.” (§88). (Christopher Tolkien drew from a later text, the Grey Annals (1950s), for the account of the death of Fëanor in the published Silmarillion where this command does not exist.) I cannot help but laugh at the fact that following this exhortation Maedhros immediately turns around and attempts to parley with Morgoth and outwit him.

Perhaps diplomatic relations with Morgoth are impossible, but then why accept the offer to parley at all? And what’s up with trying to beat Morgoth at his own game (deceit)? Honestly, Maedhros. Not your best moment.

We can say that he learned from this, but it does put into question the idea that Maedhros’ diplomatic training and excellence go back to his Valinorean days.

2. disdain of and aloofness towards another ruler

We saw how Maedhros restrained his brothers in the council where Angrod brought news from Thingol, but what about how Maedhros himself behaved at that council?

Cold seemed its welcome to the Noldor, and the sons of Fëanor were angered at the words; but Maedhros laughed, saying: ‘A king is he that can hold his own, or else his title is vain. Thingol does but grant us lands where his power does not run. Indeed Doriath alone would be his realm this day, but for the coming of the Noldor. Therefore in Doriath let him reign, and be glad that he has the sons of Finwë for his neighbours, not the Orcs of Morgoth that we found. Elsewhere it shall go as seems good to us.’ The Silmarillion, “Of the Return of the Noldor”

Fandom loves the line and I can’t disagree that it’s an epic mic drop. But was this really the most diplomatic thing to say? In the Grey Annals, it is said that “the sons of Fëanor were ever unwilling to accept the overlordship of Thingol, and would ask for no leave where they might dwell or might pass.” (§48). (Interestingly, there does seem to have been a point, before word of the kinslaying at Alqualondë was out, that Thingol for his part was at least neutral on them, saying, “Of his sons I hear little to my pleasure; yet they are likely to prove the deadliest foes of our foe” (“Of the Noldor in Beleriand”)). Arriving at a new place and refusing to treat with the person who claims kingship of those lands — and apparently for no other reason besides disdain of that person’s ability as a ruler — doesn’t seem particularly diplomatic.

3. not supporting a superior's initiative

We saw evidence of Maedhros cooperating with the other princes of the Noldor, but that doesn't mean he threw his support behind them at every occasion to do so. When Fingolfin — supposedly, thanks for Maedhros, High King and his superior — tries to rally the Noldor to assault Angband, almost everyone was “little disposed to hearken to Fingolfin, and the sons of Fëanor at that time least of all.” (“Of the Ruin of Beleriand”).

This statement is frustratingly vague so I won’t speculate much besides to suggest that there could be something suspect — and undiplomatic — behind failing to support the initiative of the High King to whom you so graciously ceded your claim.

4. Oath-related diplomatic failures (kinslayings)

The extent to which the oath is to blame for events is a sticky issue and not the subject of this analysis, but since fulfilling the oath is essential to Maedhros’ character, it’s impossible to avoid it entirely.

The narrator of the Silmarillion is actually quite generous towards Maedhros when discussing the role of the oath in his failings, so it’s no surprise that many fans are likewise generous.

For example:

I quoted above the passage about Maedhros taking “the chief peril of assault” upon himself and remaining “for his part in friendship with the houses of Fingolfin and Finarfin,” and it is perhaps the strongest evidence for Maedhros’ diplomatic excellence. It also ends with the ominous words: “Yet he also was bound by the oath, though it slept now for a time.” (“Of the Return of the Noldor”)

And when the concept of the Union of Maedhros is introduced, we are told: “Yet the oath of Fëanor and the evil deeds that it had wrought did injury to the design of Maedhros, and he had less aid than should have been.” (“Of the Fifth Battle: Nirnaeth Arnoediad”).

Both of these passages remind us that the oath — a vow to vengeance — is in the long-term at cross-purposes with cooperation and diplomacy.

This becomes especially evident when a Silmaril ends up in the hands of those who should be allies: other elves.

For Maedhros and his brothers, being constrained by their oath, had before sent to Thingol and reminded him with haughty words of their claim, summoning him to yield the Silmaril, or become their enemy. The Silmarillion, “Of the Fifth Battle: Nirnaeth Arnoediad”

The narrator pins this failure of diplomacy on the oath. But, as Maglor will point out in his final moments with Maedhros, the oath does not state how and when they must fulfill it. Is it a mark of a good diplomat to use “haughty” words in making a request? And what about what follows Thingol’s refusal?

Therefore [Thingol] sent back the messengers with scornful words. Maedhros made no answer, for he had now begun to devise the league and union of the Elves; but Celegorm and Curufin vowed openly to slay Thingol and destroy his people, if they came victorious from war, and the jewel were not surrendered of free will. The Silmarillion, “Of the Fifth Battle: Nirnaeth Arnoediad”

What do you mean, “made no answer”? The narrator explains this away by saying essentially that Maedhros was too busy to bother, but is it the most diplomatic to just… stop communicating with the king who had the Silmaril, and whose support would really be quite nice to have in the upcoming war? And what about Celegorm and Curufin’s decidedly undiplomatic threat? Long gone are the days of effective brother-wrangling, apparently. (So far gone, in fact, that by the time Celegorm carries through on his threat and the sons of Feanor attack Doriath, Maedhros seems to have deferred to Celegorm’s leadership.)

The oath is again blamed for Maedhros’ change of course regarding the Silmaril at the Havens of Sirion. Having initially “withheld his hand”:

… the knowledge of their oath unfulfilled returned to torment [Maedhros] and his brothers, and gathering from their wandering hunting-paths they sent messages to the Havens of friendship and yet of stern demand. The Silmarillion, “Of the Voyage of Eärendil and the War of Wrath”

As with the “haughty words” to Thingol, was “stern demand” the most diplomatic approach? Would better diplomacy have made a difference? Well, maybe. I don’t think the discussion between Maedhros and Maglor was inserted into the narrative without thematic purpose — and one of those purposes is, I think, to reveal the slippery space of conflict between obligation and choice; between that which must be done and how it’s done; between the morality of keeping one’s word and the morality of doing the right thing.

Does the oath itself turn an otherwise mild and affable Maedhros into someone haughty and stern? Or are those flaws he already had and which are brought to the fore by the constraint of the oath? Well, examine the evidence for yourself — and allow the imagination to roam.

Final assessment: Maedhros is a good diplomat, certainly compared to his closest kinsmen. But just like Maedhros isn’t the tallest (no, really, he’s not — but that’s another excavation), he’s perhaps also not the best diplomat on the political stage of First Age Beleriand.

[1] If we go beyond the published Silmarillion to the “Shibboleth of Fëanor” (in History of Middle-earth Vol. 12: The Peoples of Middle-earth), we learn that he was a red-head and apparently “well-shaped.” For an author who is notoriously sparse with physical description, Tolkien did seem to have a lot of ideas about what Maedhros looked liked!

Addendum: Maedhros the Scholar

“Diplomat and Scholar” do seem to go hand-in-hand in the fandom’s most popular versions of Maedhros, but I focused on the former for this Ask because there really isn’t much in canon to directly support Maedhros’ skill as a scholar.

The Noldor, as a culture, are loremasters. Fëanor, Maedhros’ father, was one of the most notable of these loremasters, even credited with founding the school of Lambengolmor, Loremasters of Tongues ( in the essay Quendi and Eldar in The History of Middle-earth Vol. 11: The War of the Jewels).

But, when Tolkien gives examples of elven loremasters, who, he says, were also “the greatest kings, princes and warriors,” he names Fëanor, Finrod, the lords of Gondolin, and Orodreth. No mention of Maedhros. And, when discussing which sons of Fëanor took an interest in language, he mentions not the eldest, but Maglor and Curufin. (Both in The Shibboleth of Fëanor.)

So there’s nothing in canon to suggest that Maedhros wasn’t a scholarly type, but it’s not something he’s noted for. His most remarkable trait remains “tall”.

[boldlyvoid]

Bigger than the Whole Sky

Aaron Hotchner x Reader

plot summary: what could've been isn't what would've been, she realizes that when she finds everything that love should've been in her boss, Aaron Hotchner, instead of her ex-husband.

Warnings: spousal abuse (physical and mental), infertility, self-esteem issues, friends to lovers, divorce, smut, pregnancy, found family

Part 1: Peter losing Wendy

Reader has been with the BAU for 2 months when she walks into the bullpen with a fat lip and a bloody nose. Her husband's been keeping secrets and breaking her heart for almost a decade now. However, it takes her 10 minutes to decide she's done with him.

Aaron has been harbouring a crush on our dear reader for as long as she's been on the team... he knew it would never go anywhere when she was married, but that crush goes from a hopeless dream to a heartstopping love faster than he could say "be mine."

Part 2: from Neverland to Wonderland (18+)

She went from dreaming about a life where she was a mom and she's loved and appreciated for who she is... to actually being appreciated, being really, truly loved and a mom of not just the baby Aaron has helped her make, but Jack as well.

Part 3: Electric Hearts

As it turns out, getting pregnant was the easiest part... The hard part is making sure Jack is okay with it and the team understands what it's going to look like when Hotch goes on paternity leave... and Peter's moms reaction to a grandbaby that isn't hers.

Part 4: Forever and Always

desk duty, new co-workers, bonding with Jack, decorating Juliette's room, baby showers and unwanted guests... the second half of this pregnancy is full of surprises.

Part 5: Next Chapter

Juliette Hale Hotchner is born

[b00inazkaban]

MASTERLIST #2

Navigation!

Let me know if there are any characters you’d like added and I’ll look into it! :)

Smut = **

What I will NOT write for under any circumstance: R@pe, incest, anything to do with pee or poo, hardcore bdsm or anything like that type of smut, kidnapping reader for love, anything stalker, abuse unless it’s for angst but I won’t go into detail about the abuse (though I will do like slapping/spanking for smut it cannot have malicious meaning behind it, and there is always consent for that)

Also let me put this by itself, pregnancy is also way off the table. It’s 6 feet underground. I understand it’s part of life and it’s beautiful , and that’s for people to decide but personally I find just the concept of that horrifying and gross. I do breeding kink yes, but no description of pregnancy. (No hate to pregnant people I just can’t stand the concept of pregnancy in any form.)

MARVEL:

☆ Tony Stark

☆ Steve Rogers

☆ Bruce Banner

☆ Natasha Romanoff

☆ Clint Barton

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☆ Loki Laufeyson

☆ Dr. Stephen Strange

☆ Peter Quill

☆ Gamora

☆ Drax the destroyer

☆ Rocket the Racoon

☆ Mantis

☆ Groot

Poly Requests:

STRANGER THINGS:

☆ Steve Harrington: Steve Harrington x FtM reader**

☆ Robin Buckley :

☆ Nancy Wheeler:

☆ Eddie Munson:

☆ Johnathan Byers:

☆ Argyle:

☆ Billy Hargrove:

☆ Mike Wheeler: Little!Mike x GN!CG!Reader

☆ Dustin Henderson

☆ Will Byers

☆ Lucas Sinclair

☆ Eleven Hopper

☆ Max Mayfield

☆ Jim Hopper:

☆ Joyce Byers:

☆ Dmitri Antonov:

Poly Requests:

HARRY POTTER/MARAUDER:

☆ Harry Potter:

☆ Ron Weasley: CG!Ron Weasley x Little!GN!reader

☆ Hermione Granger:

☆ Fred Weasley: CG!Fred Weasley x Little!Fem!Reader

☆ George Weasley: George Weasley x reader ; CG!George Weasley x LittleMale!Reader

☆ Neville Longbottom: Sub!Neville x Dom!Reader**

☆ Draco Malfoy:

☆ Blaise Zambini:

☆ Enzo Berkshire:

☆ Mattheo Riddle:

☆ Theo Nott:

☆ Pansy Parkinson:

Marauders Era or Lighting Era:

☆ Lucius Malfoy:

☆ Narcissa Malfoy:

☆ Severus Snape:

☆ Bellatrix Lestrange:

☆ Barty Crouch Jr. :

☆ Evan Rosier:

☆ Pandora Rosier:

☆ Zahara Zambini:

☆ Regulus Black:

☆ Sirius Black:

☆ Remus Lupin:

☆ Lily Evans:

☆ Marlene McKinnon:

☆ Mary McDonald:

☆ Dorcas Meadows:

FANTASTIC BEASTS:

☆ Newt Scamander:

☆ Thesus Scammander:

☆ Jacob Kowalski:

☆ Queenie Goldstein:

☆ Albus Dumbledore (young):

☆ Gellart Grindlewald (young):

Poly Requests:

CRIMINAL MINDS:

☆Aaron Hotchner

☆ Jason Gideon

☆ Spencer Reid

☆ Derek Morgan

☆ JJ/ Jennifer Jareau

☆ Elle Greenaway

☆ Penelope Garcia

☆ Emily Prentiss

☆ David Rossi

Poly Requests:

BRIDGERTON:

☆ Anthony Bridgerton

☆ Benedict Bridgerton

☆ Colin Briderton

☆ Daphne Bridgerton

☆ Eloise Bridgerton

☆ Simon Basset

☆ Penelope Fetherington

☆ Queen Charlotte (Young)

☆ King George (Young)

Poly Requests:

Queen charlotte x reader x King George

TEENAGE MUTANT NINJA TURTLES:

☆ Leonardo: NSFW alphabet

☆ Raphael:

☆ Donnatelo:

☆ Michelangelo: Mikey x Reader

☆ April O'Neil:

☆ Casey Jones:

Poly Requests:

Poly!TMNT x Fem!Reader; April 4-in-1; turtles are manspreading and you want payback 😚

Poly!TMNT x Fem!Reader; Casey tries to flirt with reader but she puts down the idea and the turtles are proud

TOP GUN:

☆ Pete Mitchell "Maverick"

☆ Bradley Bradshaw "Rooster"

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☆ Aro

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THE HUNGER GAMES:

☆ Katniss Everdeen

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How To Train Your Dragon:

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☆ Astrid Hofferson

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Across The SpiderVerse:

☆ Miles Morales

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Spider thoughts!

☆ Peter B. Parker

Spider thoughts!

☆ Hobie Brown

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Spider thoughts!

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Descendants:

☆ Mal

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MATCHUPS/MOODBOARDS:

☆ @thoughtfulcreatornight x Raphael matchup

☆ Anonymous x Remus Lupin matchup

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I’ve redone my masterlist because I was vey unhappy with my first one, and I wanted to add pictures to go with it! I’ll also be adding all my new work onto here and my old work will be on the first masterlist! Love y’all! 💗

[wardenparker]

The Viper’s Bride - ch 1

Oberyn Martell x female reader x Ellaria Sand x OC Co-written with @absurdthirst​

The second Prince of Dorne has lived under the illusion that he would not be forced to wed for his entire life. He has enough lovers and illegitimate children to make him a legend across Westeros, and the love of his soulmate Ellaria Sand to content him. But a contract between his brother and a lord from the north will catapult him into a match that may prove to be as complicated as it is intriguing. Especially when he learns that you already have a soulmate of your own.

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 9.9k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: terrible parents, age gap 10+ years, arranged marriage, classicism, cursing, food and alcohol* A slap! Mentions of menstruation, fleeting mention of a suicidal thought, threats of violence, bathing, so much foreplay, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, fingering (anal), MM coupling, MMF threesome, anal sex, oral sex (f giving and receiving), FF coupling, technically this is an orgy. Summary: Upon receiving news of your arranged betrothal, both you and Prince Oberyn of Dorne make your ways to the Red Keep for King Joffrey’s impending nuptials. However, his arrival to the city is significantly more playful than yours. Notes: Welcome to soulmate story number seven! This summer we are getting hot and heavy in Westeros with everybody’s favourite promiscuous prince. Buckle up, my darlings, because this one gets spicy right off the bat 👑💖

Oberyn frowns slightly as the oil slicked hands of the servant press into the arches and joints of Doran’s feet, making his older brother hiss in pain. It must be a harsh day for him, his wheeled chair a near constant as it is now too painful for him to walk even short distances. A far cry from the hale and hearty brother he had grown up with as the youngest of the Martell princes. He knows the oil is warmed, the scent of eucalyptus and mint filling the air as it is worked into the skin, hopefully providing some relief. “I can come back, brother. Let you rest.”

“This is important.” Doran insists, not dismissing either man from his presence. His own discomfort is a stark reminder of the sacrifices that must be made for the throne of Dorne. “You know the Baratheon boy is to marry.” The fact that King Joffrey’s mother is a Lannister makes him an unsavory topic between the Martell brothers, even as Marcella Baratheon plays in the water gardens a mere thirty yards away.

Stiffening instantaneously for a moment before he forces his body to relax, Oberyn despised the mention of anything to do with the Lannisters, including that bastard on the throne. Everyone knows the rumors and with the golden mane of the boy and the tales of evils he has done, he’s inclined to believe it. “Gods be praised.” He murmurs sarcastically, reaching for the carafe of wine and the spare goblet that had obviously been left in anticipation of his visit with the elder prince. “What poor girl is marrying that…king?”

“Margaery Tyrell.” The elder prince huffs derisively before leveling his younger brother with a serious gaze. “You are to attend the wedding in my stead.”

Rolling his eyes, Oberyn sighs heavily. It will be two weeks of hard traveling to reach King’s Landing. All for a wedding he does not wish to attend. “I will extend the Martell family’s feelings.”

"You will be gracious and accommodating." Doran warns, knowing that the Martell family's true feelings are not appropriate in any way to be expressed at a wedding. "There will be some other business for you to attend to in King's Landing which is far more important."

“Yes, there is that wonderful brothel down in Flea Bottom.” Oberyn muses, grinning at the idea of bringing Ellaria there. The last time he had come, it had been two years before he had met her.

"Oberyn." His brother's voice has a warning tone to it. "I beg you not to waste your time in brothels on this trip no matter how enjoyable a pastime it may be. There is someone you need to meet."

He snorts and shakes his head. “I have no interest in meeting boring nobles with their equally boring wives.” He tells him. “I’ll be with Ellaria anyway.”

"No, you won't." Doran jerks away from his servant in frustration and turns to fully face Oberyn. "I will not have that woman jeopardize the contract I have signed when the ink is barely dry. Leave her home, Oberyn. She will be here with open legs when you return."

Oberyn’s brow arches up dramatically. Doran has never had issue with Ellaria, even counting her as a confidant in his absence. She is the mother of four of his children and a member of the family despite there being no vows between them. His soulmate. “What contract?” He growls.

"Leave." He hisses at the young man who was tending to him and he backs off immediately, taking the pot of oil back into the interior of the palace as fast as his feet can carry him. "It was time, Oberyn," he intones seriously. "Far past time, but I have let you have your freedom as long as I was able."

“Let me have my freedom?” His hackles rise and his eyes narrow. “I have my freedom because I wish it.” He reminds his brother. “I am not the head of the Martells like you, and you have your heir.”

"I have one heir." Doran bristles, but the raised tension between the brothers is his own fault. A product of the tension and pain he was already feeling today. "If anything should happen to Trystane, it will be you on the throne. And though I have great love for my nieces, none of them can be a princess."

“Our house will endure like it always has.” Oberyn snorts, dismissing Doran’s concern. “If the time comes, I will marry Ellaria and claim my Sand Snakes as legitimate.” He takes a long sip of his wine, humming at the delightfully floral note.

"The chance for that has passed." It is Doran's turn to be dismissive, sitting back again in his wheeled chair and adjusting a cushion under his arm. "Your objections to marriage have been noted, brother, but it is time to make a respectable husband of you. Ellaria will understand. She is an intelligent woman, and I'm sure would not abandon you as your mistress." Oberyn prefers the term paramour, and though it is accurate now, it will be more complicated once things are settled.

“Brother, what have you done?” Oberyn demands, slamming his goblet down onto the table.

"You know exactly what I have done." There is no chance, in his mind, that Oberyn has not deduced that a marriage contract has been signed, but Doran still sighs heavily. "She is the only daughter of a noble family. The father let her go without a match for some time while her brothers all married, but her portrait is beautiful and he assures me that she is accomplished." Reaching for the wine glass that Oberyn has rejected, Doran takes a gulp rather than a sip. "And she has no marks, blessedly."

“The agreement was my soulmate or no one.” Oberyn hisses, his gaze turning withering. “I will not marry some cow faced northerner.”

"Every place is northern to Dorne," Doran waves one hand dismissively and sets the wine glass back down on the table between them. "The contract is signed, Oberyn. You will not make a liar or a fool of your brother by denying it, and I am not going to try to force you to spend time with the girl or even like her. But you will marry her and produce a legitimate heir." The contract is full of terms to be adhered to, and the fairly enormous size of the girl's dowry includes access to trade routes that will greatly benefit the people of Dorne. There is no downside to this arrangement in Doran's mind, aside from having to have this discussion with his brother.

Oberyn’s lips press together in a firm line and his chair scrapes back as he stands. “Then you fuck the girl.” He hisses. “For I will not be gracing her bed.” Turning on his heel, the prince storms away before he loses his infamous temper.

Doran breathes a sigh, reaching for the goblet again to drown his frustrations in the wine that his maester has instructed him to avoid when he is in pain. "Fuck it," he grumbles harshly. Oberyn is going to make his life a living hell anyway, he may as well be drunk for it.

******

“Marriage!” Oberyn scoffs angrily, pacing in front of the lounge where his paramour is currently sprawled. “As if I am some fresh-faced maiden. How dare he sign a contract on my behalf!”

"I smell Mellario behind it," Ellaria admits, watching him pace back and forth like a caged beast. Oberyn had come careening back into his chamber like a sandstorm and now he was seething. "Doran has never had issue with your arrangement before now, and suddenly he is concerned about heirs? I would not be surprised if her change has come."

“Or he cannot get his cock to rise.” Oberyn winces at the idea of his own cock not working, but with his brother’s declining health, he would not rule it out. “I will not do it.” He decides. “We will leave for Braavos if he decides to push the issue.”

"My love," Ellaria sits up, shaking her head. "If you leave here, I would follow. You know this. But you would still have four daughters you would not be able to see and we both know that would break your heart." His children are the most important thing in the world to Oberyn – everyone knows this – and Doran would certainly use them as a punishment for insubordination. "Exile is no choice, Oberyn. Even self-imposed."

Pausing mid-stride, his robes swish around his legs as he turns to stare at the woman who had been with him and by his side for nearly twenty years. “You would have me entertain this idea?” He demands, surprised she would consider this.

“I would not have you be less of a man than you are.” For all her complexities, Ellaria Sand is not the temptress or the snake that some make her out to be. Her genuine love for Oberyn is rooted in as much respect as it is passion, and their four daughters currently have a father that they can look up to as a good and wise man. “What is the worst this girl could be?” She poses the question carefully as he shifts his weight anxiously in front of her, and she folds her hands in her lap. “Ugly? That is not her fault. The sun and good company can make anyone more beautiful. Cruel? Doran has already said you do not have to spend much time with her. Or perhaps childish? Spoiled? Then you treat her like a child and send her to her chamber without a treat if she misbehaves.” There is anger in his face, which Ellaria hates to see, but she tries to be encouraging. Motherhood has taught her that encouragement can be a balm on almost any wound. “So you would be married. What does that signify? Nothing in so far as you and I are concerned. You are still my soulmate, my love. And the father of my children. She cannot change that.”

“You are my sun.” Oberyn reaches down and takes his lover’s hand to draw her to her feet. Pulling her against his body, his broad hand covers the small scar on her side, a knife wound that he had earned in the fighting pits. “My world.” He promises, leaning in and pressing his lips to hers in a passionate kiss, trying to rid himself of the idea of tying himself to another. Ellaria is his soulmate, which is why he had said that he would only marry the woman who bears his marks.

"And no one will ever change that." She vows just as solemnly, giving herself over to the kiss without restraint. There are parts of his world that she does not stray into, or they would have fought with Doran for the right to marry years ago. The elder Martell brother may not mind her as Prince Oberyn's paramour, but she is not what he would envision for a princess of Dorne, nor does Ellaria particularly want such a title. For Oberyn she might have borne the duty of it all, but he never asked that of her and she was grateful. Now, whoever this girl is that is being thrust into their life will bear that burden instead. Ellaria does not envy her the responsibility.

******

“My love, you must calm yourself.” Within the walls of your chambers, Raeden Stone knows that the two of you are safe. Your maid will not interrupt unless necessary and she is sworn to protect your happiness and well-being above everything else, including your parents. “Stop.” Striding across the room, the sword at his side clanks as he grabs your hands filled with dresses, and takes them from you. “We cannot flee under the cover of darkness like we are thieves escaping the sword.” He knows that if he is caught, he will be killed or sent to the Wall as well.

"I won't do it." The very idea is offensive, leaving the taste of burnt crumbs in your mouth and the feeling of insects crawling on your skin, so that even with Raeden clutching your hand all you can think of is being rid of the horrible sensation. This whole horrible situation. Your eyes are already red from tears, their dried tracks left on your cheeks and down your neck, yet still more threaten to spill over as he holds you still. "I won't marry a stranger and move halfway across the world. I won't leave you behind!"

“You will not need to leave me.” Setting the clothes down on the trunk that is meant to be packed for your journey to King’s Landing and then to Dorne, he cups your cheeks. “I will pledge to accompany you.” He promises, his dark eyes boring into yours. His heart aches but he had known this day would eventually come. “I will ride into all seven hells if need be to stay beside you.”

"Why can we not just tell them?" Your smaller hands wrap around his long fingers, holding tight to him as though he might disappear if you let go. "To marry my soulmate should not be such a shocking thing to do, surely?" Having gone over and over it in their time together, you know why. Status. For a young noble woman to marry a bastard of no consequence, soulmate or otherwise, would be unacceptable in any part of Westeros.

“I have no name to offer you, other than Stone.” Raeden reminds you, aware of his station. He had only become a trusted member of your guard when he had risked his life for you nearly three winters ago. No one knew of the shared marks on your skin. No one could know. “No coin, no land, no future.”

"I could be your future." The argument is an old one. Aged and worn like the stones in your floor. The fact that you would abandon your station and your family for him is moot now that your father has sold you. "Three brothers married wealthy wives and yet I am the sacrificial lamb to be offered up to the lecherous second prince of Dorne." The stories of the man's temperament and deeds preceded him, of course. Lusty and vengeful, the second son of House Martell was to be feared never spoken of above a whisper in polite company. And now you have to marry him?

“I have heard he is handsome.” Despite his own heart aching at the thought of another touching you, he has to make this seem like a good thing. “They say he will treat any in his bed respectfully.”

"He could be the most handsome man in all of Dorne and he would still not be as handsome as you." Soulful eyes the color of chestnut shells, plush lips, and a perpetually mischievous smile when he’s pleased, there is no one more handsome than Ser Raeden Stone. Firm muscles and an impressive strength make him as formidable on the battlefield as they do in the bedroom - a fact which you have kept mum about for years now. Raeden's broad frame and towering height envelope you fully when you wrap your arms around his waist and bury your face in his chest to muffle a sob. "I will never lay with him. Or love him. Not as long as I live."

“You will be his wife.” He swallows as he says those words. “You will bear his children, love or not. And I will protect you.” It will be his own special kind of hell, watching you grow with a child that is not his, marry a man who is not him. “You must not tell him, love.”

"How can you be so calm?" You demand, looking up at him with fear and hurt swimming in your eyes. "My father is sentencing me to stand at the side of another man and you...my love, I cannot believe you are accepting of this?"

“I have no choice but to accept it.” His voice hardens slightly. “If we try to run away together, we will be caught. I will be killed or sent to the Wall.” It rankles, but he had known that one day you would be married off. “I cannot protect you if I am dead or taken the oath.” He growls, shaking his head and leaning in to press his forehead against yours. “I cannot risk leaving you alone.”

"Only cruel gods would have given us to each other as soulmates without ever intending to allow our love." It is an unfairness of life that you have lamented more than once, but right now it feels as though a dagger has been plunged through your heart and twisted violently.

“The gods know of our love.” Raeden knows it, sighing softly. “We are together and we will still be together.” He kisses you softly. “I spend more nights in your bed than my own. It will be the same in Dorne.”

"I will not allow it to be any other way." Despite the fear of the unknown, the thing that you can cling to is the strength of your feelings for Raeden Stone. Since the day he arrived rather triumphantly in your life, he has been a constant and welcome presence and you will not allow any power to steal your soulmate from your side. "No prince from Dorne will ever keep you from my arms."

“There is my girl.” Raeden smiles, happy that you are calm again and he presses closer to you. “Now…do you wish that I take your mind off your worries?” He coos softly.

“I always wish for you.” Though time is precious now, as you leave for King’s Landing in just three days and the road is no place for a romantic interlude. Raeden will not even be allowed to ride in your carriage during the journey. His place as your guard demands that he protect you, not indulge in you. Although he is fully capable of doing both.

The grin that you have said melts you flashes across his face and he pulls back so he can remove his belt and sword. “Then let me make you forget about Dorne, forget about marriage and only think of me.”

******

The painstaking journey feels ludicrous, and your weary mother certainly has not made it any easier with her complaining. The decision for your parents to accompany you was entirely your father’s and even then it was only so that he could brag to his small group of friends that he attended the king’s wedding. If this were only about delivering you to your groom, he would have sent you with your guard and your maid and thought no further on it. As it is, you have spent every day sitting beside your mother’s lady’s maid in the cramped and uncomfortable carriage praying that you might get even ten minutes alone with Raeden before the end of the day. It has hardly happened, and you have found yourself near tears rather constantly. Ignorant man that your father is, he imagines you so delirious with joy that you are weeping for your good fortune. The truth could not be further away.

“Do not fret.” Your mother assures you softly. “We have long had daughters marry in Dorne or Dornish brides sent to us.” She reminds you. “While most will look their noses down at a Dornish man, we know he will treat you well.”

“I still do not see why this marriage is even necessary.” And since no one has offered you any sort of explanation, you’re inclined to just ask. “My brothers married wealthy women. We do not need the favour of House Martell. So I am forced to wonder again why I am being offered to them in sacrifice.”

“Change is coming to Westeros.” Your mother leans in, her words quiet and fervent. “Dorne is the last kingdom that still has royalty. You will not just be a lady, you will a princess.”

"I do not want to be a princess." You inform her flatly, ignoring the way her lady's laid looks aghast at your ingratitude. "My own maid had more freedom than I do. At least someone asked her if she wanted to be shipped south like chattel. And she was even able to say no!" Though Clarey had served you since you came of age, your own maid had been able to marry her soulmate and had recently discovered she was with child. Your father had considered himself quite magnanimous for not breaking up that family to send her to Dorne with you.

“You would have your father break his contract with Dorne?” Your mother asks, appalled at the mere idea. “You were born into a noble house. You have grown up knowing your father would arrange a marriage for you. Most are married at seventeen.” She clicks her tongue in disappointment that you are forever ungrateful for the time your father had allowed you to remain unwed. If you only knew the rumors that had swirled.

"If you always planned to marry me against my will then I wonder that you waited so long." Staring out of the carriage window, you can see Raeden up ahead, face drawn in concentration as he keeps constant vigilance over the route you are traveling. "Why not have signed me away to the Starks when I was born?" The bitterness in your voice is obvious. "Then I would have been a queen."

“You will watch your sharp tongue, or you shall be sent to your room without dinner.” Your mother hisses, sitting back and shaking her head. “Your father wanted to hold out hope for a soulmate.”

"I am not a child, as you so love to point out when it is convenient to you." The threat of no dinner is nothing when you have no appetite to begin with. It would be a blessing not to be stared at over a meager meal. "And you can hardly send me to my room when I haven't one. We will not even arrive in King's Landing before first light tomorrow."

Your mother’s hand strikes out, slapping your cheek with a sharp crack. “You will not shame your father and house.” She hisses. “I have long begged your father to marry you off, to stop giving into your childish notions, but no more. You will marry Oberyn Martell.”

If the impulse to cup your own cheek was present, you don’t give in to it, not wanting to show the satisfaction of acknowledging that she has caused you pain of any kind. At the moment all you can really think is that it is good Raeden did not witness your mother striking you, or he may have given himself away with his reaction. “At least in Dorne I will never again be forced to breathe the same odious air you have exhaled.” No one in all of Westeros could ever have mistaken your mother for your ally if they saw you interact in private – it is only her sickly sweet countenance in public that made others think that she had babied or favoured you in any way. More than once in your life you’ve wondered how such a hateful woman could even grow a babe let alone birth four of them.

“You will learn your place soon enough.” She promises you. “You are a woman, not a man.” Her disappointment in you pours off of her in waves. “Be thankful your father did not choose a fat, aging lord.”

“Fat and aging means he would die faster.” At least antagonizing your mother is passing the time, you decide, staring straight ahead at the pompous boil of a woman who has lorded herself over you for the last twenty-five years. “I think I would do very well as a widow.”

“I wonder if your bravery would falter learning that your guard will not be staying with you.” The sly, evil menace in your mother’s voice is clear.

“Of course he will.” Brazen confidence is the tone which drowns out your panicked fear, and you tell yourself not to look outside and give yourself away. That could ruin everything in less than one heartbeat. “He swore to Father to protect me and Father accepted.” If something had changed, surely Raeden would have told you.

“Hmmmm.” Her smile is acidic, her fingers twisting around her handkerchief. “You think you are soooo clever. That I did not know.”

“Honestly?” Honestly you really did not think for a second that anyone besides your former maid knew anything, but you swallow down the boiling acid in your throat and keep your chin poised to stare your own mother down. “I do not know what you could possibly mean.”

“I birthed you.” She snorts, a very unladylike sound. “You think I do not know when my daughter had decided to spread her legs and become a Stone’s whore?”

Of course the thing that bothers her most is that Raeden is a bastard – Stone, as they are named in the Vale – and not an actual concern of safety or care. “I can assure you, that is not the case.” Though saying it would be a waste of breath, nothing you have done with Raeden could mark you as a whore. Just a woman very much in love with her soulmate.

“At least you just bled.” She scoffs. “Not carrying a bastard in your belly.” She leans in, her eyes flashing with malice. “Behave. Or I will allow your father into my bed for the night and he will do as I say. Including making sure your precious Raeden rides home to the Vale with his lord, your father.” She threatens.

Though you have serious doubts that your mother’s cunt is magical enough to control your father’s thoughts, it isn’t a chance you’re willing to take. If Raeden is ordered to return to the Vale and you are forced to ride for Dorne without him, you are more likely to see the bottom of the seas than your marriage bed. “My Lord Father loves me and wishes to protect me,” is all you say in response.

“Your Lord Father will do what makes me happy.” She promises you with a self-assured smirk. “Especially now that I have convinced him to marry you off.”

“It was you?” You should not be so shocked. Her hatred for you has been obvious from the time you were a child and had never seemed to waver. Your father, on the other hand? Doting and indulgent, always picking flowers for you and bringing you books instead of suitors. Your brothers are strong men with discipline instilled in them. You had been allowed to read and dream and sing and ride at your leisure. Of course his sudden change of heart was down to your bitter, angry mother.

“Who else?” She sneers. “Your father would be content to keep you around until you are nothing but a spinster. You are already past your prime. Luckily enough, the Prince of Dorne already has eight bastards.”

The way her utter dismissal of you makes your blood boil is beyond explanation, but as you squeeze your hands together in the pockets of your robe, only one precious thought floats to the surface. “My only solace is that if I should ever see you again after this week, Mother, you shall have to curtsy to the person you despise most in the world.”

“I will not.” She hisses, glaring at you. “I will never bow to a little whore like you.”

“Oh, but you will.” A victory, even a small one, is enough to grasp at as you square your shoulders again. “When I am Princess of Dorne it will be required of everyone save King Joffrey himself. You included.”

“Bitch.” She hisses, glaring at you. “I should have drowned you the moment you slipped from my womb.”

“A regret you will live with forever.” If Knocking her from her wicked confidence is the best you can do in this conversation, you will not take that for granted, for your mother has always been a formidable enemy. “Now leave me to read, Mother. Lest you earn yourself another wrinkle and find your hair a shade greater than it was when we left home.”

“I will be overjoyed to not see your face every day.” She spits, hating that you don’t seem cowed by her threats. “Dorne will be eye opening for you. And everything you deserve:”

“As you say, Mother.” Without another word, you take the small book of histories from your reticule and open it to the place where you left off last night, too distracted by Raeden’s handsome face to give any more thought to words. False confidence is a thing you learned very well in the face of your mother’s vitriol, and apparently on this one occasion it has actually yielded a victory. You may still be terrified of your future in Dorne, but she never needs to know that.

******

“This city still smells like shit.” Two weeks of travel has left Oberyn irritable, grumbling as he pulls his horse up to the gates of the city. “Let us go find comfort and a bath.” He tells Ellaria, unable to stay in the carriage and deciding to ride ahead of the contingent of troops Doran had sent with him.

“At the brothel, my love?” She smirks at the suggestion, far less uncomfortable from travel than he is. “A bath, fresh food, and a good fuck will restore your mood.”

“Of course.” Oberyn scoffs. “I will not accept chambers in that keep.” He hates even being here and seeing it. Wanting to burn it down, considering his sister, niece and nephew died in that keep.

“Nor should you.” As a prince he should have the most resplendent rooms available, but they both know what would happen if Oberyn ever set foot in the Red Keep beyond the wedding in two days. “We will visit this Littlefinger you have spoken of?”

“I had sent word that we were arriving.” He chuckles, smirking at Ellaria because she knows him so well. “Tell me you don’t want a hot bath and an even hotter cunt?”

“If I am honest, I am ravenous for a cunt to bury my tongue in.” There is never any judgment between them, or jealousy, and Ellaria sighs indulgently at the idea of a slick cunt and perky tits to indulge in. “Will you share with me, lover?”

“Always.” Oberyn waggles his brows. “We will pick out a whore together.”

“A favorite pastime.” Ellaria laughs softly. She has not spoken a word about Oberyn’s intended bride since they left Dorne and she won’t until it’s necessary. His mood is volatile here in the northern capital and she does not relish his moments of anger.

“Silk sheets.” Oberyn groans, not willing to admit that he is weary of travel, but he needs to recover. Especially if he is to be meeting this bride. He had decided that the poor girl deserves to be told in person that he will have nothing to do with her.

“Silk sheets. Roasted meats. Wine. Berries and nuts fresh from their trees.” She giggles when his hand slips inside her dress to caress her skin. “And a pert ass for you to bury yourself in.”

“We could get two. A man and a woman.” He reasons, smirking at the idea. “Perhaps we will have Littlefinger line them all up for us to choose from.”

“As many as you like, my love.” After all, it is not as if the coffers of Dorne lack for funds. They have brought a fortune with them under Doran’s insistence that Oberyn shower his intended with gifts – and a second fortune to pay for the bills his natural extravagance will no doubt incur. “We will have whatever you desire. And when you have had your fill we will rest and then begin all over again.”

“Wine.” Oberyn decides, frowning despite thinking of nicer things as the two of them enter the walls of King’s Landing. “I will need a lot of wine.”

Their destination is not far, but the duo of Oberyn Martell and Ellaria Sand attract attention by virtue of their combined beauty and the onlookers who cluster to gaze at them make their journey last longer. Oberyn sends their driver off with the carriage to find stables nearby and Ellaria wraps her arms around him when he returns to her side in the steps of the building. “Do you hear the false moans, my prince?” She pouts in sympathy for the unsatisfied women inside as they cross the threshold together. “We will make them scream so they never forget us.”

Oberyn smirks, holding her hand with no shame. He does not hide Ellaria, she is his paramour. Much more than that, although that is something that is kept between the two of them, private at her insistence so she does not become a liability to him. “We will, my love. Every whore in this brothel will pout when you leave.”

“Very pretty pouts, I hope.” Ellaria loves a very pretty pout when the time is right. To be begged to come back to bed. To have a lover cry her name with such passion that their heart aches for more. She saunters into the brothel beside Oberyn with her head high and looks around as the prettily dressed woman at the entrance fawns over Oberyn. Everyone fawns over Oberyn, that is of little interest to her.

Oberyn eyes the cunts and tits on display, lifting a brow when he sees earrings through one woman’s nipples. “I see we are in the right place.” He smirks, watching as Littlefinger rushes over to the pair.

“Prince Oberyn.” Though he does not ever bow deeply, he does bow, eyes tracking over to Ellaria with an oily smile. “My lady. What an honour to be graced with your presence. What can we provide for you this morning?”

“My lady?” Ellaria scoffs, making Oberyn smirk and squeeze her hand. “We will be needing accommodations for the duration of our stay in King’s Landing.” Most brothels do not rent rooms and he is sure that Littlefinger’s establishment is no different but Oberyn has learned that his title and the gold of his coin makes things possible when they previously weren’t. “For now, until it is ready, we need baths and whores to join us.”

“The duration of your stay?” The man does not bother to hide his surprise, but smiles broadly like the showman that he is. “I will send someone to ready your accommodations,” he promises, hand on heart. “Our baths are this way,” Littlefinger motions deeper into the building. “Do you have a preference for who should join you or shall I send you a variety to choose from?” There is enough gold dripping from the Prince of Dorne that Littlefinger will unfold the world of pleasure at his feet if that is what he wishes, without worry for his ability to pay what is owed.

“Your choicest men and women.” Oberyn looks over to Ellaria for her approval. “Clean.” He insists, although Littlefinger’s whores are always of a higher caliber than most. “We will send the others away once we have chosen.”

“Leyth.” Littlefinger waves to a tall, buxom girl with orange curls down to her waist. “Tend to the prince and his lady for me,” he instructs her, obviously trusting that she can do the job. “Anything they need, you will acquire for as long as they are here, do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.” The girl called Leyth nods and smooths her thin skirt, looking between the beautiful prince and his stunning lady. “I will be happy to serve them.”

“Good.” The chuckle that bubbles out of Littlefinger is full of approval. “Take them to the baths and then fetch them food and wine.” He smiles at Oberyn, a thing dripping with false charm. “I will send you a selection of company to choose from.”

“Berries.” Oberyn adds, the need for fresh fruit after weeks on the road is great. Ellaria chuckles, well aware of his fondness for snacking, especially when he is fucking.

“Berries.” Leyth bats her eyelashes prettily as she leads the pair down the hall. “Do you prefer sweet things, your Grace?”

“Hmmmm.” He doesn’t answer one way or the other, although his gaze is sliding up and down her form and he reaches out to caress her ass through the sheer robe she is wearing.

She hums right back at him, playful but bidding, and slows her pace slightly to let him touch as they turn the corner to the bathing room. The deep bath in the floor sits full and waiting for paying customers, beautifully tiled with trays of soap and sponges for gently scrubbing skin. The oiled waters smell of flower petals, and two baths are even littered with the things. Leyth walks toward the bath of floral water with a sultry smile and a swing in her hips. “I will wash you with my own hands if that is your wish, after I fetch you food to break your fast.”

“What do you say my love?” Oberyn asks Ellaria. “Leyth and whoever catches our eyes?” He would love to see his paramour’s thighs spread for the orange haired beauty. “Or would you prefer to choose the woman?”

“You are lovely, Leyth.” Ellaria praises, already having decided that she likes this woman’s spirit as well as her figure. “We will see who else catches our eye when they arrive.”

“Show me your tits.” Oberyn commands the woman. Eager to see if they are as perky as they seem or if it is an illusion of the gown she is wearing.

Obedience is necessary to work for Littlefinger, but Leyth is lucky to have been given to this couple she finds so attractive. She slips the ties from her shoulders and lets her silken dress fall to the stone floor with pride. Her body is well worth selling and has given her a good living, so she proudly bares her large tits and curved waist to this prince when he demands it.

“Very nice.” Oberyn groans with a smirk. “They will look lovely bouncing when you ride my cock.” He predicts. “We can undress ourselves.” He promises, turning to Ellaria and pushing aside her own gown so he can cup her bare breast, tweaking an already hard nipple.

Ellaria moans happily when the girl excuses herself to fetch their food, and drops the traveling robe she was wearing to the ground immediately. “Lover…” she sighs, her body arching to seek Oberyn’s touch instinctively. “You were right about this place.”

“Of course I am right.” He teases playfully, leaning in and dragging his nose along her throat. “Now, we need to wash so we can be ready to play when the whores are brought in. I want to feed you fruit while a tongue is buried in your cunt.”

“Leyth is a beauty.” Ellaria disrobes easily and quickly, leaving her things scattered as she steps into the bath built deep into the floor. It is warm and smells sweet, like summer in the Water Gardens. “Pale, but I like her freckles.” She looks up at Oberyn with admiration as he shrugs off his own robes. “I like your freckles better, though.” Especially the one on the inside of his right thigh, high on his muscled leg where she can kiss it before swallowing his cock.

“Just like her tits are gorgeous, but yours have suckled four of my children.” His cock twitches and he kicks off his boots, throwing the loose, pale yellow shirt off and reaching for his leather breeches.

“Hers are bigger than mine.” Ellaria chuckles at the way he loves tits. “Enjoy them, lover. I know I shall.”

“You always do.” He chuckles, thanking the gods that his soulmate is just as adventurous as he is. “Maybe she will be the only one we choose for now.”

“Perhaps.” Sighing as she lays back in the water, Ellaria tilts her head and soaks her hair, enjoying the way she feels cleaner already. “Perhaps we will develop a taste for sun-red hair while we are here.”

“Whatever we develop a taste for, we will indulge in.” Oberyn does not mind sharing her, doesn’t get jealous because she is his sun and world. No one could break their bond.

“Come to me, lover.” She beckons him with both hands, pouting for him prettily. Now that travel is behind them, Oberyn is already cheerier and it lightens her heart. “Soak with me. It has been weeks since we had a bath.”

“With pleasure.” Stripped down, Oberyn strides over to the bath and starts to descend the stairs to join her in the deep tub.

Ellaria moves to him immediately, arms welcoming him home and lips finding his with a deeply satisfied moan. Her legs are around his waist as quickly as his hands find her ass, and his growing cock twitches against her soft skin.

Oberyn turns around, letting his paramour cling to him as he drops down onto the seat under the water. “I love you.” He murmurs quietly against his lips.

“As I love you.” Since the day they first spoke the words to each other they have not wavered, and Ellaria runs her hands across Oberyn’s skin reverently. “My warrior.”

“My sun.” Oberyn squeezes her ass and rocks her onto his hardening cock. “My world.” The passion between the pair has not wavered over the years, growing stronger in a way that could only be because of their soulmate bond.

“Oberyn.” No matter how many times she takes him, the stretch of his cock inside her takes her breath away. Her hands find his shoulders to cling to him as they find their pace, with his grip guiding her as she begins to bounce on his length in earnest.

“Too soon, my love?” He teases, knowing she is far more than adequately wet. She is dripping.

“Never.” She shakes her head before throwing it back, letting her moan ring out through the echoey chamber. “Never. I am always yours.”

Multi-tasking is a gift that Oberyn has. Results of a wandering spirit and a restless mind. It was one of the reasons he had joined the maesters and eventually left after forging eight links. He reaches for the perfumed soap and a rag to wash his lover.

They are fully enraptured with each other when Leyth returns, and she sets the tray down beside them before seeing about pouring two goblets of wine. It’s rare to have pairs of lovers visit the establishment but not unheard of, and she smiles indulgently, watching the passion they share for a moment before making herself known. “I can do that for you, your Grace,” she offers, knowing her employer will be upset if she neglects them.

Even with Ellaria impaled on his cock, Oberyn tears his mouth away from her lips and looks over at the woman. “Join us and bring the wine.” He orders. “Are the others coming?”

“They are right here.” Leyth slips into the water easily, taking the sponge from him and resumes the work of bathing his lady without missing a beat. Four women and two men all of varying ages and looks pour into the room behind her clad in next to nothing looking apprehensive.

“Do not be shy.” Oberyn turns Ellaria’s head and groans when she clenches down around him. “Any who wish to not join us may leave now.” He does not want someone who is timid.

The most tired looking of the women takes the youngest girl by the hand and leads her from the room with a respectful nod of her head, and one of the men bows before stepping out behind them. "Leaving us with five supple bodies to learn," Ellaria groans appreciatively. Between Oberyn's cock and Leyth's hands massaging her back as she washes her, this is surely already one of the seven heavens. One of the girls is the first to step forward, beautiful dark skin on display and bright eyes full of mischief as she easily discards her meager dress and slips into the water right away. She has heard legends of the second prince of Dorne and intends to find out for herself if they are true.

“Eager.” Oberyn chuckles and beckons her forward. “I like that.” His eyes slide past her towards the remaining man, tall and broad. His tawny skin clear and it’s obvious that his cock is starting to harden as he watches. “You—” he motions towards him. “Do you suck cock or like cock in your ass?”

"I like whatever you like, my lord." After all, is that not what he is here for? Being a man with a voracious appetite for pleasure makes him an asset in a place like this.

Oberyn growls, eyeing his cock tenting the loose trousers he is wearing. “Strip and join us if you are going to.”

Spacious as it is, there is not enough room for everyone in the bath, and the last remaining girl lays down bare on the edge after everyone has climbed in and patiently plays with herself while she waits her turn. There is plenty to feast her eyes on until one of them decides to bury their face in her pussy.

Twitching inside his lover, he kisses her gently and pulls her off his cock. “Go play, my love.” He urges her, knowing she wants to do more than just be touched.

"We may learn to enjoy King's Landing after all." Ellaria laughs, happily letting hands explore her skin. Leyth and the man gravitate toward Oberyn, and she is happy to drown herself in a sea of pussy until she is drunk on the sound of women's pleasure.

When he is close enough, Oberyn reaches down and cups the man’s cock firmly. “What is your name?” He demands, squeezing him gently and jerking him slowly.

"Cal, my lord." His eyelids flutter slightly at the firm touch, eager for more. "Or whatever you want it to be."

“Cal….” He smirks and presses his thumb against the head of the man’s cock. “Have you ever been fucked by a Prince?”

The way Cal shudders and his breath hitches is reverent, and he shakes his head as he tries to remember to breathe. "No, your Grace. But I would like to be."

He turns to Leyth, jerking his chin up. “Kiss me.” he orders, stretching his neck out and lets go of the man’s cock so he can slide his hand around him to press between the cheeks of his ass.

The room fills with moans as Leyth eagerly complies, licking into the prince's mouth with surety. She knows her skill and she hopes to impress, even pressing closer to him to wrap her own hand around his cock.

Oberyn hisses, his tongue sliding against hers happily as he finds Cal’s puckered hole quickly and starts to rub around the opening.Hands are everywhere as Cal lowers his head to lay kisses along the taut muscles of the prince's neck, one hand caressing his skin and the other groping for Leyth's breast to squeeze the supple flesh and play with her nipple. They are paired together often, when clients wish for a show, so he knows her body as well as any instrument.

“You are lovers.” Oberyn groans, pushing a finger inside the man’s quivering hole. On the other side of the bath, Ellaria and the ebony skinned beauty are tangled together in a passionate embrace.

"Sometimes." Leyth agrees, leaning over to give Cal a kiss without missing a single stroke of the prince's cock.

The sounds of heavy breathing and pleasure are filling the bathing room and he can feel the way Cal’s body squeezes his finger as he pumps it into him to stretch him out. “So do you want his cock or his tongue while I fuck him?”

"If I have his cock, I will feel every time you fuck into him." She moans at the idea, chest heaving with just the thought. "You will be driving us both wild with pleasure."

He chuckles and nods, pulling his fingers out of the other man. “Then get on your knees and let him slide inside your cunt.”

Kneeling on the bench where he had been sitting, Leyth presents herself easily for both men to appreciate and sighs out loud when the familiar stretch of Cal's cock presses inside of her wet heat. She knows that Cal is truly the one getting spoiled today and hopes the prince lives up to every rumour for his sake.

Oberyn can’t help but reach out and slap her ass and groans when her generous skin jiggles. “I will fuck you after I have had my fill of your lover.”

"He is insatiable," Ellaria offers, chuckling deeply before burying her face in the cunt nearest her talented mouth. Oberyn is not the only one with an endless appetite. It is one of the reasons that they have so much fun together.

“It has been two weeks.” He huffs, rolling his eyes. There hadn’t been any place to stop and fuck while on the road. He was pent up.

"No one here will complain, my lord." Cal promises, burying himself again in Leyth's cunt and groaning at her heat. "The stories of you are legend, and most of us are eager to know if they are true."

“They are true.” Ellaria pulls his tongue out of the cunt to purr her vote of confidence.

“Thank you, my love.” Oberyn chuckles and reaches for the oils that are kept on the edge of the bath for things such as this.

"Then we will add our praise to the stories that already exist." Soon Leyth will be able to do nothing but take the thrusts from the two men above her, but for now she meets each movement with a roll of her plush hips.

"We are yours for as long as you wish to stay." It is only half of a promise from Cal himself, having been instructed by Littlefinger himself to give Prince Oberyn whatever he wants, but at least now Cal can make the vow with pleasure.

Oberyn has no doubt that these people have been told to do whatever he or his paramour likes but he will only take what he deems right. “Only if I bring you both pleasure.”

"I cannot imagine you have trouble giving pleasure." Cal moans, bending over Leyth's back to present himself to the prince for the taking.

Coating his cock in enough oil to wash his entrance, the water in the bath sloshes as he shuffles closer and takes himself in hand. Pressing closer and pushing the head of his cock against the other man’s hole and slowly rolls his hips forward to break him open.

Cal curses, eyes rolling back into his head as the prince's girth fills him, and in turn pushes his cock further into Leyth's fluttering pussy. The bathing room may as well be their own private party in this moment, because of the large handful of people indulging in each other no one notices Littlefinger lurking by the doorway. True pleasure is rare in a whorehouse, so this is sure to be a lucrative visit for the proprietor.

Oberyn lets out a lusty groan when his hips are flush against the other man’s ass. “You do not flinch away.” He praises, wrapping his long arms around the man so he can cup Leyth’s generous breasts while he waits for the man’s muscles to relax around him.

“Pleasure is a gift.” Cal’s body shudders as he takes Oberyn fully, the stretch of him making the man pant and reach back to grasp the prince’s hip. “You have a very large gift, my lord.”

Oberyn chuckles quietly, pleased with Cal’s words and leans in to nibble on his ear. Enjoying the way he shudders again. “Let me show you what I can do with that gift.”

******

The Red Keep looms above you when you finally step out of your carriage, trying with all your might to block out your mother’s voice muttering indignities that your party was not greeted by a royal retinue at the city line. What utter nonsense. Your house is ancient and wealthy, yes, but certainly not royal and there is no reason for the royal Baratheons or Lannisters to pay you any heed. At least, outside the carriage, you can finally be more than a foot and a half away from your mother again.

“Alright, pumpkin?” Your father beams down at you before swinging off of his horse.

“Of course, Papa.” Of course not is the truth, but after days of spitting venom you are too tired to put up much of a fight. Besides, now that you know this is your mother’s doing, it is hard to be upset with your father for simply being a fool.

Your father beams at you as he steps beside you and offers you his arm. Not having an opportunity to talk much on the road, he wants to assure you. “I understand you are nervous because you have not been to Dorne, but your grandmother and her mother are from Dorne.” He reminds you. “And there is family in Braavos and across the Narrow Sea.” The long tradition of finding love outside the Vale is common, your father finding the free-spirited prince to be a far worthier match for you than some sniveling little lord grasping for favor. The idea that his daughter will be princess is also a factor.

“I shall visit them all at my earliest ability.” The idea of traveling to see family you have never met sounds infinitely preferable to spending even a minute in the presence of the prince you never agreed to wed, and for a moment you almost relax at the idea.

“I doubt your husband will allow anything other than you spitting out his heirs for the next few years.” Your mother scoffs. “You will be visiting his bed.”

“That is not for you to know or to decide.” You tell her, though the fact that she may be right makes you sick to your stomach. Two steps behind the three of you, Raeden could not have missed the comment but you cannot exactly turn to look at him.

Raeden keeps his gaze down, your mother’s words in his mind as he tries to decide if he had made the right choice. Perhaps he should have run away with you. He’s noticed the captain of your father’s guard eyeing him so he had tried to be as impassive as possible. His heart aches at the idea of you in the Prince’s bed, despite the rumors of his prowess and propensity for men and women, something that he shamefully shares with the Prince of Dorne. He had fought his attraction to the other men around him. Not even sharing it with you.

“My lord. My ladies.” A steward in the hallway bows to you dutifully and opens his mouth to welcome you to the Red Keep, but a swish of skirts and a silky smooth voice cuts him off from behind. “Lollard, I will greet my guests,” she instructs, sounding nearly severe before her voice pitches up to something delighted and seemingly terribly excited. “I was so pleased to see your banner approach that I could not help myself.” The woman declares, and you cannot tell if she means it or not. “Lady Margaery Tyrell,” she introduces herself with a broad smile. “It was I who sent your invitation. Welcome to King’s Landing, and to the Red Keep.”

“You are even more beautiful than your portrait, Lady Margaery,” your mother gushes, simpering to the woman who appeared to be several years younger than even you. “And how thoughtful of you to include our House in your nuptial feast. We are honoured.”

“It is I who am honoured.” She steps toward you with a smile. “To have the future princess of Dorne amongst my guests, and of course the ancient connection between our Houses makes us loving cousins, does it not?” The marriage of a Tyrell daughter into your House was four generations ago, but Margaery has never been one to overlook a string that might be pulled in her favour. At least not after her grandmother pointed it out.

Future princess of Dorne. Raeden’s fists clench at his sides as he tries to ignore the fury in his heart at that simple phrase. You will be a princess, and the gap between your stations will be more vast than before.

“We are flattered by such a personal welcome.” Beside you, your father is talking and patting your hand on his arm, but you barely hear him. Each time another person calls you princess or refers to the man who bought you, you feel closer and closer to being sick all over the floor. Or perhaps sinking in a wasting depression. If both are possible simultaneously, that may be the answer.

“Forgive me.” When you find your voice it almost cracks, but you put one hand to your stomach delicately. “I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Lady Margaery, but I am afraid I feel quite ill from weeks of travel. Would it be possible to be escorted to our chamber so that I might be well enough for a turn around the gardens later?” An ally – any ally – may be worth grasping, and you enjoy the way this young woman made your mother frown by not paying attention to her. For right now, though, you would do anything to be alone so that Raeden could visit you.

“Forgive me.” Margaery bows her head respectfully and gives a small, sincere smile. “My manners have forsaken me.” She gestures towards the keep. “Allow me to show you personally to your rooms. A light repast has been laid out for your pleasure as well.”

“How very kind of you,” you murmur, knowing you won’t touch a thing. The reality of your situation has stolen your normally healthy appetite.

Clever blue eyes catch the subtle grimace when she mentions food and yet she doesn’t comment on it. Sensing that you will have much to talk about, Margaery had invited you to stay in the keep as her guest after learning of your betrothal to Oberyn Martell. “This way.” She smiles and motions towards the left corridor.

Though you might not be fond of the games of society, you were raised in them, and you have sense enough that when the future queen offers you her arm you take it. That is how the first glimpse many guests to court ever have of you is strolling arm-in-arm with the woman who will become queen in two days time. It does not matter that you just met. It does not matter that she is chattering away politely while you simply smile your polite smile and nod. The future queen of the Seven Kingdoms and the future princess of Dorne paint a very pretty picture on their way through the halls of the Red Keep with your family trailing behind. If you weren’t so desperate to be alone with Raeden again and attempt to forget all this is happening, you might more fully enjoy the way your mother is green with envy.

______

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[cartermagazine]

Today In History

Clara “Mother” Hale, founded the Hale House, a sanctuary for drug-addicted and HIV/AIDS-infected babies in Harlem, NY—she was born in Elizabeth City, NC, on this date April 1, 1905.

Mother Hale was much more than a mother, a wife and businesswoman. She was a great humanitarian, a champion of the principles of self-determination and a caregiver of all caregivers.

Through her devotion to her own three children she was inspired to reach out to others in her community who were in need of nurturing.

“My daughter says she was almost sixteen before she realized all these other kids weren’t her real sisters and brothers. Everyone called me ‘Mommy.”‘

Hale was honored many times during her life. Despite the accolades, throughout the years, Mother Hale’s thoughts were always with the needy children who were brought to her for assistance. In 1986, she told Herschel Johnson of Ebony that, “I’d like for it to go down in history that we taught our children to be proud Black American citizens, and that they learned they could do anything, and that they could do it for themselves.”

CARTER™️ Magazine

[justpoliteconversations]

Breakdown [Isekai!Reader + (Legend x Marin)] (Part 3)

Everything has a price, and you're about to be reminded of that.

The indulgence is real.

Part 1 / 2 / 3 / 4

Masterlist

TW: Choosing not to display warnings. Read at your own discretion.

Disclaimer: Don't own The Legend of Zelda franchise. Linked Universe is the fan creation of jojo56830.

---

Nothing in life is free. Money, time, sweat, blood, tears, everything costs something. Equivalent exchange, as it were, though the rates of such things are not for mortals to decide.

Sitting across from Time, propped upright only by the assistance of multiple pillows at your back and neck, you were learning the cost of bringing a dream to life.

Fat. Skin. Flesh.

Looking down at the hands folded on your lap, it didn't seem real. They didn't look like your hands. Just days ago, you were hale and healthy. Fit even, after having spent months traveling with an enforced all natural diet.

But now, stripped of fat and flesh, patches of new and raw skin healing in discolored stripes, the weight of the consequences was coming down on your thin (too thin) shoulders. Looking into Time's eye, you could see the veiled grief, the quiet acknowledgement of loss.

You didn't like it. He didn't deserve to shoulder this burden you'd brought into the world. It wasn't his to bear and he damned well wasn't going to take responsibility where it isn't due.

You needed him to let you see Marin. But for that to happen, he needed to feel secure in your soundness of will. He needed to understand that just because you took responsibility for your actions, did not make you a damned martyr. You weren't them. You weren't his boys.

You weren't him. And Marin was not his problem. The ramifications of her existence was yours.

"I'd do it again." You said, keeping eye contact with the man, willing him to hear, to see, the conviction in every part of you. "This is not your burden, Time. I made a choice, fully understanding that I did not know the cost. And I stand by it."

You wanted to grab his shoulders. To shake the sorrows of loss and heroism from his silent gaze. To take that great weight from his shoulders. A weight he seemed so willing to grow with each lash of the heart, like the god-damned self-sacrificing idiot he was made to be.

This world should have let him retire when he put that sword back to the stone. He'd already paid his dues. Twice over. Thrice. They all had. These selfless, courageous boys without a thread of self-preservation between the lot of them.

They will take no more burdens upon themselves, if you can help it.

Time held your gaze, seemingly unmoved but for the gradual easing of his shoulders. You pushed your advantage, sensing the weakening of his own resolve. "This was my choice. I made it willingly."

His eye shifted, searching for weakness in your own resolve. You were tempted to straighten your back and feign strength you didn't possess, but decided against it. This was not the time for false bravo.

But still, you refused to give an inch. "I don't regret it."

"You may never walk again." Time said mildly, trying to get a rise from you with his blase tone. To pull forth resentment that did not exist. Marin was not deserving of your wrath for this, and the one's who were were well out of reach.

You'd simply have to accept that. One day.

"That will make traveling difficult. I apologize for the inconvenience. I'll do my best to recover quickly." You said back just as mildly.

His brow twitched at the blatant jab, but he kept his cool admirably. "See that you do." He tilted his head, still searching. Prepared to push even more. "The others would be very upset if you had to stay behind."

"But not you?" You countered, redirecting the implications behind his words.

He didn't bite. "Wind misses you."

It was a low blow, and you were sure the unimpressed blink you leveled at the man was evident enough of your judgement. He didn't back down though, instead meeting your stare evenly with his one eye.

You smiled, pushing through it, determined still in the face of his stubbornness. "I'd imagine not as much as Marin." His face was carefully neutral, and you knew you had him cornered.

"No." He said, face falling into it's usual serious frown. Or, more accurately, his newest mask.

You frowned back, narrowing your eyes at him. "I'm within my rights to see the woman I dragged into this world. So, unless she told you otherwise I'd like to see her myself." You told him plainly, knowing his answer. It's been what Sky had told you, what Four had told you. You'd yet to corner Hyrule or Twilight yet, their sixth sense pinpointing your predatory interest before you could ambush them.

Damned survival instincts. You couldn't help but admire them, despite the inconvenience.

"The situation is complicated."

"Then uncomplicate it for me, Time. I can't just abandon her after what I did." You bulldozed through, knowing that this was the man you needed to convince. Not Sky, not Four, not any of them. Just this one.

His face went neutral again, and you wanted to soften, wanted to ease back and let the man just be. You couldn't though, even if it hurt you to pick at his own insecurities.

You didn't want to hurt him, but you'd prefer this old pain to settle upon his heart like a worn jacket then to allow this new ache to wear blisters into his skin. It was your burden. He didn't need another scar across his weary soul.

He closed his eye, leaned back heavily into the chair and sighed deeply. Progress. You were wearing him down, slowly but inevitably. He couldn't keep Marin and you apart forever, no matter how hard he tried. But, for him to concede would be for him to relinquish ownership of responsibility.

You needed him to let go.

Finally, he spoke. "When you pulled her through the portal, she was only half formed. You both were." You had- not known that. No one had had the heart to tell you, it seemed.

Your voice nearly trembled. "Marin-"

"She lives." He grit his teeth subtly, pushing forward with forced evenness. "Hyrule managed to stabilize her, and Sky used a fairy on you. Unfortunately, she could only do so much for such extensive damage."

You nod, glancing down at your rail thin arms laying crossed upon the blanket before looking back to Time's gaze. He had been looking too, eye brimming with compassion and frustration both.

"We initially tried to keep you together, as you both seemed to take comfort from each other's presence." His frown deepened. "However, we quickly realized that was infeasible. Whatever had been happening before you exited the portal progressed further after prolonged contact."

He leaned forward, narrowing his eye and you tightened your grip on the blanket with weakly shaking hands. You'd barely the strength to keep the bunched fabric between your fingers. The weight of his stare nearly made you falter, but you held his gaze.

"She began cannibalizing your body, to continue building her own. We moved her to another room shortly after. She's still unconscious, though stable at the moment."

Your heart dropped, the heavy weight of realization bearing down on you with harsh clarity. "That's why you've been keeping Legend away, and you're keeping Four, Sky and Twilight at my side." Your hands shook harder. Your heart squeezed in your chest like a cold vice. "It's why Hyrule's not allowed to be alone with me."

The dark look that settled on Time's expression said everything you need to know. A quiet admission of choice.

"Ah." You huffed, mirthless. Your heart was shaking. "I've caused you unnecessary conflict." You grit your teeth, and bowed you head. "I am sorry, Link. For the hurt I have caused you and the others."

Tears nearly fell from your eyes as emotion gripped you, but you held them in with steadfast resolve. This was not the time, nor the place. Especially not now.

The goal remains unchanged, but now the stakes are higher than ever. The consequences of failure unfathomable. You could not falter. You could not afford to lose this battle.

"I accept the consequences. I will fix what I have broken. Please, take me to her." You said, determination rising forth like fire in your eyes, your expression, your whole being. Overcome with purpose so powerful it boiled hot in your marrow. "Let me see them."

You could see the moment he broke.

He nodded, the weight of years on his shoulders. "Okay."

---

Time carried you through the halls of the house, arms strong and unmovable under your diminished form. Whose house this belonged to you couldn't say, but it felt safe and warm, colored walls and thick carpet ripe with the comforting feeling of home.

A flash of color stole your attention and you managed to catch a glimpse of curling brown and forest green before it disappeared around the corner. The absence of footsteps gave name to the elusive figure, and another piece of your heart crumbled.

Hyrule. Maintaining vigilance over you in the only way he could (that Time would allow). Torn between his need to help, and his loyalty to Legend. Too sweet to push, too pragmatic to yeild. Caught in the tragedy of sacrifice, the curse and blessing both of his blood.

You had so much to atone for. So much hurt to mend.

You turned your head, pressing the side of your face to Time's collarbone. You whispered. "I'll fix this, Link." Your hand fisted weakly into his shirt, trying to imbue the strength of your will into the contact. "Thank you for protecting me."

His arms tightened around you, the movement so miniscule it was barely the tensing of muscles against your thin body. But to you, it was a pact, the promise of protection of the highest degree. A vow made in the shedding of blood.

You realized once more, that you would never leave this world. These men. This bond that had finally looped it's chains around you, anchored itself into your soul.

Your fate was sealed the moment you shed blood for them.

No. From the moment Wind had curled his hands around your fingers to encase a rupee. From the moment Wild had left the bright firelight of their camp to bring you supper. From the moment Wolfie had curled beside you, shielding you from the icy wind as pride kept you from the warmth of shared company.

There truly was no going back. There never had been. Not for you. Not for them.

What a fool you'd been.

What a God-damned prideful fool. To think you wouldn't fall in love with these perfectly imperfect men. These bleeding hearts, these righteous idiots.

You tightened your jaw, closed your eyes and breathed.

'I'm sorry, Legend. I'll be there soon. I'll fix this. No matter what it takes. I promise.'

---

I return to the shadows once more.

[capnsoyboy]

Fics So Good I Have to Share

Fear the Walking Dead

Say You Need Me - Troy Otto x Reader (AO3 series)

Marvel

Heart to Love - Bucky Barnes x Reader (AO3) My Little Love - Bucky Barnes x Reader (series)

Sharing is Caring - Bucky Barnes x Reader

Sorry, I Love You — Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

The Day After Yesterday - Bucky Barnes x TimeTraveler!Reader (series)

Warrior/Worrier - Bucky Barnes x Reader

When We Were Young - Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers (AO3)

Home- Kate Bishop x Reader

The Ghost of You - Pietro Maximoff x Reader (series part 1)

The Ghost of Us - Pietro Maximoff x Reader (series part 2)

Built From Memories - Natasha Romanoff x Reader, Yelena Belova x Platonic!Reader

Hand(s) Off Part 2, Part 3 - Steve Rogers x Reader (series)

Rockefeller - Steve Rogers x Reader

Timeless Lovin’ - Steve Rogers x Reader

Daisies - Thor x Reader

Three Times - Thor x Reader

Outer Banks

Broken - Rafe Cameron x Reader

I'd Choose You Over Anyone - Rafe Cameron x Reader

I Need Help - Rafe Cameron x Reader

Sweet Silence - Rafe Cameron x Reader

If We Go Down - JJ Maybank x Reader

Lie to Me - JJ Maybank x Reader

Not Like I’m in Love With You - JJ Maybank x Reader

Supernatural

Ghost of You - Dean Winchester x Castiel (AO3)

I'll Be Waiting for You - Dean Winchester x Castiel (AO3)

Sugar, Bee Mine? - Dean Winchester x Castiel (AO3)

Domestic - Dean Winchester x Reader

Never Say Goodbye - Dean Winchester x Soulmate!Reader (series)

Touch Starved - Dean Winchester x Reader

The Impala - Sam Winchester x Reader

Pythia - Sam Winchester x Reader (series)

Teen Wolf

Derek Hale Imagines - Derek Hale x Reader

Drawing the Life (1),(2) - Theo Raeken x Reader

Inked Wrists - Theo Raeken x Reader (series)

Teen Wolf One Shots - Multi-character x Reader

[buckybarnesss]

Bro, the noise I just made. I literally cannot stand the fanon for Stiles or Derek. It is so so soooo bad, I think these people literally have only seen the 2 hour sterek compilation. Every day I am like "who fucking told you people that Derek never smiles and has no sense of humor?"

Stiles gets turned into this big eyed, kitten twink who wouldn't dare to misbehave because he's the sheriff's son (the kid who gets drunk in the WOODS, and gets his dad drunk so he can steal casefiles!!)

Derek like... He is either completely useless and cannot dress himself for a date without fanon!Laura (do not get me started) telling him what to do, or he is so emotionally repressed and damage that he can barely handle someone kissing him without him falling to pieces.

LIKE. Derek smiles. Derek makes jokes!! Derek laughed at Stiles right before the pool scene. Derek knows how to use a cellphone and a laptop. Derek is a goddamn millenial, he knows what grumpy cat is. He knows he's hot, he has a mirror!!

Also... the man lived in New York fucking City. He's not afraid of crowds or talking to people or making out, he uses sex to get his way (Erica and the deputy at the front desk!!)

i know.

like, there's a period of fics that are usually from the s1-2 period that lean pretty hard on derek's dark, brooding and grumpiness from season 1 but of course he was like that. he was going through The Horrors during season 1. he was grieving laura, he was being retraumatized by kate and dealing with scott, stiles and fucking jackson.

he wasn't one dimensional though. his anger was a mask for all the fear, confusion and trying to be in control.

do you know how many fics i've read where people have stiles think about all the apparent physical violence derek has done to stiles as if he's always slamming him into surfaces? way too many to count and it's incorrect. off the top of my head i can count 3 times derek did something like that to stiles. the shove into the wall and slam into the steering wheel in wolf's bane both of which had a point to them. whether or not it was a good emotional response doesn't matter. what matters is that they were not random or part of derek's personality. he didn't just shove stiles into things every time he saw him. the wall shove in s4 with de-aged derek was a deliberate call back to that very instance in wolf's bane. it was literally coupled with the whole cousin miguel bit.

fandom doesn't like to acknowledge that derek hale isn't particularly violent over the course of the show. he hardly even wins the fights he engages in and he is often forced into fights knowing he cannot win.

our boy mostly ends up on the fucking floor.

derek also does make jokes. dry ones usually he thinks they are hilarious too. he thinks he's a funny guy. his dad joke game must've been off the charts, sorry eli.

he and stiles trade barbs a lot and he thinks stiles is funny. stiles amuses him and he indulges it a few times. he shows off to stiles too like a loser.

he likes to fuck with scott and stiles and enjoys taking the piss out of peter. he genuinely enjoyed fucking with liam in s4.

he's not a luddite either. he has a cellphone and we see him use it. i bet he plays games on it. i bet he plays candy crush and words with friends.

and fanon evolved to strip away that stiles is an asshole. he a violent little freak. he threatens people, he expresses regularly his desire to kill people or have them die, he cares about a very small selection of people in his life and if you're not in that circle than god be with your ass because stiles most definitely won't.

he loves and respects his father but this doesn't mean stiles respects the law which is why i don't know why the law enforcement route was chosen for him. stiles hates rules and boundaries. he chafes at them.

stiles casually helps kira and scott break into evidence to get her cell phone. he tells scott's fbi agent father to fuck himself. he got his dad drunk to get access to case files. he copies people's keys. he's a nosy shit.

the whole show started because stiles was a nosy punk kid who wanted to see a dead body.

but i digress.

fanon stiles had a lot of scott's characteristics projected onto him so they could bash scott. i know there's a lot of people who don't like scott which is fine or whatever but there are so many that do it so they can make a pinata out of a character they've extracted all the good points from and give to their favorite little white boy fav.

stiles "i will beat you with a bat" stilinski is a freaky little shit who will bite you.

do you know how hard i laughed when in s3 stiles and isaac genuinely just like could not stand each other? they couldn't be in the same room with out insulting one another and it was the complete opposite of stiles being oh so sensitive to isaac's past and history than straight up in 3b stiles the epitome of insensitive says to isaac something about still milking it (his abuse). stiles is a dick.

i also genuinely have umbrage with the pack mom trope that stiles gets saddled with. the way fandom has oft feminized stiles leaves a bad taste in my mouth too.

derek and stiles are both assholes and i love them very much.

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

Helloooo your recs give me life. You’ve probably done this before, but any recommendations for fics that include a brutally pining Derek and oblivious Stiles? Ideally canon-verse but aus are also loved. Thanks in advance!!

I'm sure I have, but I love pining in all fics. So I'm happy to make a million lists of it.

Fun by Halevetica

(1/1 I 3,889 I Teen)

Stiles convinces Derek to go to the annual Beacon Hills bonfire with him, with the promise of fun. What he gets instead are a lot of assumptions that he and Stiles are dating, and Stiles' too-eager dismissals, which are decidedly NOT fun for Derek.

Game On by stilinskisparkles

(1/1 I 6,391 I Teen)

Derek first sees him from across the quad four days into fall semester. He’s sitting on one of the long benches, a marker pen in his mouth, grinning at something the kid lounging on the bench beside him is saying. When he laughs properly he pulls the pen out and throws his head back, his neck a long, lean line Derek is entranced by. He flicks the page in his book and highlights something, tossing the cap up in the air and catching it with his teeth.

Written in the Stars by Quixoticity

(6/6 I 26,586 I Mature)

Derek Hale is a lucky guy. He's got a great family, good friends, and a fulfilling job as a tattoo artist.

He's also one of the twenty-five per cent of the population born with a soul mark.

He likes his life, but he's waiting for his soul-match. The odds of meeting them aren't great but hey, Derek's a lucky guy. He has faith.

He can't believe how good his luck really is when one day his soul-match wanders right into his studio, all long limbs and copper eyes. There's just one problem: Stiles is there to get his soul mark covered up. Permanently.

Mating Habits of the Domesticated North American Werewolf by lielabell

(5/5 I 35,458 I Mature)

Derek doesn’t do pining. He doesn’t. So when it becomes clear that Stiles is much more interested in having Derek as a new best friend than a boyfriend, he puts on his big boy pants and makes it fucking work. He becomes the best goddamn friend a spastic teenager could ever hope to have.

too busy being yours to fall for somebody new by whiry

(12/12 I 64,278 I Teen)

Stiles, worried that Scott may actually leave him behind because of his newfound popularity, is desperate to cling to something away from the drama of Lydia Martin's amazing parties and the woes of high school lacrosse. What he finds is Derek Hale, a guy who seemingly hates Stiles at first, but slowly, and insistently, becomes friends with him. As their friendship grows, Stiles starts to wonder if they could ever become something more or if pushing what they have will lead him to being alone for good.

All the Weird Kids (Know How to Take it Slow) by Ionaonie

(26/26 I 112,477 I General)

Stiles never thought being part of a werewolf Pack would end up being so normal. Even being around Derek had a degree of normality about it. Even if he was still an overbearing jerk most of the time.

When it all comes crumbling down by Littleredridinghunter

(18/18 I 216,191 I Not Rated)

Stiles is recovering from the Nogitsune. Erica is the only one that is really there for him, Scott's too busy rekindling his relationship with Allison and Stiles feels like he's falling apart.

When a near-miss with a kelpie results in an encounter that he could never have predicted, Stiles begins to think his life might be getting back on track.

He's wrong.

Stiles' life is so messed up he can't even begin to explain it, maybe it's time for him to finally do something for himself and get out of Beacon Hills. But where will that path lead?

With Stiles involved, no doubt danger and death won't be far behind.

[kitchenisking]

Day 1

Happy Passover! there will be a rec for everyday of passover so keep an eye out! Enjoy guys!😘

I could be anyone but your friend by devilscut - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 25,663, sterek)

The aftermath of the nogitsune's possession of Stiles has ended up in a very strange and almost unlikely relationship forming between Stiles and Derek Hale. After saving Stiles and regaining his alpha-hood while doing it, Stiles has come to only feel safe when around the werewolf. Sometimes when the memories and the panic attacks are too much they both need more than simple companionship or hugs. Stiles sometimes needs to let go of his control and Derek sometimes needs to take it into his keeping.

For better, for worse by Vendelin - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 13,336, sterek)

Derek and Stiles have been married for six years. Derek loves his job as a successful lawyer, loves his financial security and his large house. It isn’t until Stiles gets shot while working that he starts to understand that maybe Stiles isn’t loving their life as much as Derek is.

Keep the Demon At Bay by EvanesDust, idratherwrite - (Rating: T, Words: 7,485, sterek)

Stiles wakes up with four years of his life missing(fail). He also has a really hot boyfriend(win) and is friends with Jackson(undecided). He hasn't lost his memory for no reason, however, and the one responsible has plans.

Last Year's Predictions Didn't Come Out Quite As Expected by stilinskisparkles - (Rating: Mature, Words: 8,526, sterek)

A year ago if someone had told Stiles he'd be going to prom with Erica Reyes and that Derek Hale would be lounging on his bed watching him dither over outfits, gaze ranging from amusement to lust filled every other minute Stiles would have punched them in the face. Or maybe tossed holy water on them.

Big Days by crazyassmurdererwall (smartalli) - (Rating: T, Words: 9,692, sterek)

It’s an impulse really, inviting Derek to spend Thanksgiving with him and his dad. The Sheriff. Who once arrested him. It’ll be fine. Stiles is sure it’ll be fine.

Stay with me by Beautiful_noise - (Rating: T, Words: 2,740, sterek)

Derek gets a glimpse of the future in which Stiles has two biological daughters and that's how he knows he and Stiles are going to break up.

Baby You Got A Bright Future Behind You by werewolvesandarrows (nerdy_farm_girl) - (Rating: T, Words: 3,056, sterek)

Stiles loves going to the dentist. Loves it. He gets that it’s kind of strange, he does. Scott hates going to the dentist, hates it even more now that he and Kira have the twins and it costs like a million bucks or something every trip (or well, maybe not a million bucks but Stiles generally zones out once Scott starts to rant about money. He definitely doesn’t love talking about money). But Stiles is blessed to have a job with good dental coverage, and a visit to the dentist doesn’t usually come with a big bill. It does however come with hygienists and a dentist that are smokin’ hot.

What the Hell is a Stiles? by TheRealDanniX - (Rating: Not Rated, Words: 4,901, sterek)

A witch takes Stiles' memory while he's on the job and Derek gets stuck babysitting. Not that he really minds. In fact, it may be just what he needs.

One Door Closes by KouriArashi - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 27,794, sterek)

Derek knows that Stiles is too young for him, but Stiles doesn't agree. Eight years after Derek rejects him due to the age gap, they meet again where Derek has settled in Wyoming as a ranch hand, and Stiles is the new deputy, and still pissed as hell about the way Derek turned him down. Things don't go as either of them planned. (I'm sure a million fics have been written about older Stiles and Derek, but this one has cowboy Derek, does that help?)

This Entire Time by Itsreallyjustforresearch83- (Rating: T, Words: 1,982, sterek)

Lydia and Jackson were minding their own business when they stumbled across their Alpha and their Emissary acting very...couple-y. But when they brought it up to still-somehow-not-dead Peter, he just laughed and said it's not his place to share. 

OR

Lydia and Jackson think they discover something new and exciting, AKA the two idiots they've been watching dance around each other for the last four years FINALLY getting somewhere. Turns out, it's not that new of a thing and only Peter seemed to know about it.