#(like they are part of our lives whether or not we admit it)

[navybrat817]

Hold You Tight: Part 18

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Part 17 | Series Masterlist | Part 19

Chapter Word Count: Over 4.8k

Chapter Summary: You open up to Bucky before he meets your friends.

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, dubcon elements, heavy petting, tension, kissing, inner turmoil, backstory, reference to unsupportive parents, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: More Hold You Tight! Thank you for sticking with me! Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Waking up in Bucky’s arms felt different than it had the night before. This morning felt a bit easier and, dare you think, it was natural. A hand moved up and down your back, but it was more of a soothing motion than trying to turn you on. It was so comfortable that it almost put you back to sleep.

“Morning,” he whispered against your forehead.

“Morning,” you whispered back, waiting for him to inevitably start groping you. He didn’t. “Wait, you’re not dry humping me today?”

He let out a sleepy chuckle. “Not unless you want me to,” he teased, leaning back to gaze at you.

You looked at him, too. It was the most relaxed and well rested you had seen him look since you met. And the happiest. You being in the penthouse really made a difference in the dangerous man.

“Did you sleep okay?” he asked, brushing a finger along your cheek.

“Yeah,” you answered. You hadn't meant to fall asleep in the living room, but he didn't seem to mind. “Did you?”

“I did.” He sat up after a moment and stretched. “I’m actually kind of glad we didn't sleep in our bed.”

“Why is that?” you asked.

“Because we haven't made love yet,” he answered in a low voice.

You ignored the heat flowing from your core. “I’m kind of surprised you're holding out,” you said. With the way he always had to touch you and the filthy things that spewed from his mouth, he had to be a ticking time bomb.

Your reaction to him surprised you, too. It was just days ago when you wretched from just the stress of him blowing up your life and everything. Yet last night, you got yourself on his thigh with his encouragement and you willingly slept in his arms. Did that say more about you or him?

He sighed. “Once I have you I won't be able to stop. That’s how much I want you and will keep wanting you,” he admitted, separating himself from you more. “But I want your trust and forcing you into bed won't build it. We’ll be back at square one.”

You blinked slowly. Bucky pushed your boundaries one second and backed off the next. He tore through your walls and rebuilt them just as quickly. The man was a puzzle you feared you’d never figure out.

“It isn't just my trust that you want from me,” you said. That wouldn’t be enough for him. “You want me to love you.”

His eyes bore into yours and it felt like he was letting a wall down for you. “Yes, I do want you to love me,” he said, his voice thick. “I want a life with you and whatever exists beyond that.”

You swallowed. The air was too thick in the room, the emotions raw. He wanted you to love him even after you were gone from this world. “Your Pisces is showing again,” you whispered like it was a secret.

“Well, you did say I was intense, passionate, and I want to be close to the person I fall for,” he whispered, brushing a kiss to your lips and helping you slowly stand. “It shouldn’t come as a surprise to you.”

“I guess not,” you agreed, looking around. You hadn’t checked your phone at all since you went to his place. “What time is it?”

“Still early. Why don’t we have breakfast and then you can get ready for your day out?” he suggested.

That brought a smile to your face. “Yeah, let’s do that.”

His smile wasn’t as bright as yours as he led you to the kitchen and helped you take a seat at the island. “Eager to spend the day away from me?”

He sounded so sad you almost went to him to hug him. “I’m eager to spend the day with my friends,” you corrected him, watching him move around the kitchen with ease. “They’re kind of like sisters to me.”

“Sisters.” He paused and looked at you with a careful eye. “Do you realize you’ve never talked about your family with me? Not once.”

You kept a neutral expression, but you wrung your hands together in your lap. You were surprised it took him this long to point that out. “There isn’t much to say.”

He set two mugs on the coffee maker. “I think there is,” he said, facing you again. “You always mention your friends, your coworkers, Mrs. Crandle, and there’s always affection and love there, but never your parents. Why not?”

If he dug into your life the way he said he had, surely, he knew in some capacity. And it was too early to discuss them, but he would ask again later if you brushed it off. “Because they’re not exactly proud to have me as a daughter,” you sighed, trying not to reflect too deeply on that.

His mouth was set in a grim line. “Why not?” he all but snarled.

You shrugged and avoided his gaze. “I was just never good enough, you know? Whether it was my grades or sports or anything I tried, I was never… exceptional or special. Even when I did well at something it wasn't enough. It was always a toss-up between disappointment and indifference,” you explained. Your accomplishments weren't anything of importance in their eyes. “And when I said I wanted to be a florist I was pretty much told that my life was…” you paused. You weren’t going to cry. “A waste.”

“A waste?” The murderous expression on his face oddly brought you more comfort. “But you are exceptional. You lead with kindness and a good heart when it’s easier to be cruel or jaded. Your kindness saved my mom, and she knew you were special,” he said, shaking his head as he rounded the island. “It’s no wonder you never talk about them. It also explains more of why compliments make you feel uncertain.”

“It’s okay, Bucky,” you whispered.

Your parents weren’t bad people. They never raised a hand to you, and they gave you what you needed to survive in life, but not much else beyond that. No encouragement or affirmations of love. If you disappeared tomorrow, they wouldn’t know. You were invisible.

It was fine. You accepted a long time ago that you weren’t special in their eyes. The life you made in the city with your other loved ones was enough to give you a sense of family and it didn’t take away from the fact that you still loved your parents, but you refused to be like them. You’d still find ways to put kindness out into the world. You’d make others smile if you could. It wasn’t always much, but maybe it would make a difference in some way to someone.

And, well, who you were and what you did made a difference if you asked Bucky.

“It’s not okay,” he argued, framing your face. The intensity didn’t frighten you this time when you looked into his eyes. “And I’m so sorry I brought it up.”

“It really is okay,” you softly said, wondering how he got you to open up again. You would’ve had to talk about it sooner or later and there were people who grew up with much worse. “But you really think I’m exceptional? I’m just-”

He put his fingers to your lips, the thunderous look back on his face. “Don’t you dare say you’re just a florist or I’ll put you over my knee.”

Your eyes widened. He was serious. “I’m just… really hungry for breakfast?” you tried.

He exhaled deeply. “I’ll make sure you’re well fed,” he promised, going back to the task at hand. His shoulders were still stiff as he moved around. “When I compliment you, I mean it. And when I say you’re special or exceptional or anything else, I mean it. I won't let anyone make you feel less than what I know you are.”

Your chest tightened. “I know,” you whispered. The subtle threat to the cook for insulting your taste, beating up John for disrespecting you, he wasn't going to sit by and let people make you feel bad. Maybe one of the reasons he wanted to show you off to his loved ones was so you wouldn't feel invisible.

“Thank you for telling me, Kotyonok. I know that wasn't easy,” he praised.

“Thank you for asking,” you replied, allowing the warmth to settle in your chest.

“But I’m not asking your parent’s permission to marry you,” he blurted out, your eyes rounding. “They lost that privilege when they treated you the way they did.”

“They wouldn’t believe I was marrying you anyway,” you tried to joke. They would recognize immediately how out of your league he was.

“And they don’t need to come to the wedding either,” he snarled, carefully setting your coffee down in front of you when he looked close to throwing something. “It’ll be a small ceremony anyway. Just close friends and loved ones who matter.”

Your heart did a funny flutter. A small ceremony was exactly what you wanted. “Well, if my dad isn’t there, who will give me away?”

“Thor,” he answered without skipping a beat.

You burst out laughing, surprising both of you. The blonde would probably strut down the aisle. “I barely know Thor, but I feel like he'd probably shout something like ‘All rise for the soon-to-queen of the 107th’,” you mocked in what was a terrible impression of Thor.

Bucky laughed, too. “Not the best impression, Kotyonok, but you tried, and he’d probably say something exactly like that.”

“Well, whatever he says, I won’t walk down the aisle in some over the top dress. I want something beautiful, but simple. Same with the ceremony and reception,” you smiled. Something that was you. “And I get the final say in the flowers for obvious reasons.”

His eyes were full of love. Was he picturing you in a wedding gown? “As long as you get to be my wife, our wedding can be whatever you want it to be.”

Your smile slipped. His wife… You hadn’t shut down that you were going to marry him or pointed out how he was once again moving too fast. You even joked about your big day with him. “Um… breakfast?” Anything to distract you.

He had an easy smile on his face as he whipped up something quickly. Minus a quick thank you once he served it, you didn’t say anything else as you ate, and he didn’t push the conversation. Opening up a bit about your family and talking about marriage… Being in the penthouse destroyed your mental and emotional fail-safes.

“I should get ready,” you said, setting your finished plate in the sink and rinsing it.

“Me, too.” You felt him watching you. “If the weather’s nice tomorrow, we can have breakfast on the balcony. Maybe we can make it our routine on nice days.”

“Tomorrow?” you asked.

“If you want to spend the night again,” he casually replied, but you heard the want there. “Especially since we’ll be apart for most of the day.”

“Maybe,” you said. You had planned to just go back to your place once you got back from your day out. “We’ll play it by ear, okay?”

Disappointment showed for just a moment. “You said you’d spend time with me when you got back. That you’d let me know when you got back to the apartment so I could see you.”

“I did say that,” you agreed, remembering your promise when he tried to convince you not to go out today. “But maybe you can stop by the apartment. It could be fun.”

“I guess we’ll play it by ear,” he smiled.

You didn’t wait for him to follow as you went to get ready, but you did pause when you stood in the master bathroom. The left sink clearly belonged to Bucky. His toothbrush, cologne, everything was on that side. The right sink was yours. A toothbrush for you, a new bottle of perfume, deodorant, everything. It was like you were already living there.

You jumped when you felt a pair of lips on the side of your neck, your eyes meeting Bucky’s in the mirror. You hadn’t heard him come in, too distracted by your reality continuing to sink in. “I’ll miss you today,” he whispered, holding your hips.

“I’m not gone yet,” you whispered. You were there with him, in his grip. His touch would linger after he let go.

“I really hate having to share you,” he murmured, dragging his lips to your ear as your heart raced. “But I thankfully don’t have to share all of you.”

You gripped the sink when he snaked a hand between your legs. “Bucky,” you gasped.

“I know it’s selfish to ask when you’re spending time with your friends, but think of me,” he said, rubbing you through your pajamas and pressing his hips firmly against yours. Did being this close to you always make him hard? “Think of how much I want you.”

Your back arched when the metal hand moved to your breast and gently squeezed. You wanted to look away, but his reflection pulled your gaze to it. Trapping you, the way he had you trapped between him and the sink.

“Think of how much I need you,” he whispered, nipping your earlobe when you whimpered. The more he rubbed your pussy through the clothes the wetter the fabric got, the heavier your breathing became, and the more your head spun. “Can you do that for me?”

“Yes,” you whispered. It didn’t matter where you went or who you were with, he’d find a way to seep into your thoughts.

He moaned, his nose moving along your neck before he stopped rubbing you. “That’s my girl.”

You didn’t let go of the sink when he stepped away, your body slightly shaking as you came down from the high he built within. “And you’ll think of me?”

“I’m always thinking of you, Kotyonok,” he said, running a comb through his hair like he didn’t have a raging hard-on. “Always.”

You believed him. “Are you… going to take care of that?” you asked.

He glanced at his crotch with a smirk. “I probably should.” He leaned over and kissed your temple. “I’ll put some music on so you won’t have to hear me this time.”

“How considerate.”

“I’m a considerate guy,” he winked, leaving you alone in the bathroom.

“How do guys walk like that?” you muttered.

You waited until you heard the music start before you went through your routine. He’d likely moan your name at some point while he jerked off. At least he let you be so you could get ready and change into your dress. He said he wanted your trust, but he still found ways to touch you and wind you up. The tension was going to snap at some point and you wondered just how soon.

Looking at yourself in the mirror once you were ready, you tried to smile. You looked admittedly beautiful and felt confident for a fun day out. Did any of that have to do with Bucky?

You emerged after hiding in the bathroom long enough and stared as you saw Bucky in the bedroom. You half expected him to be in bed jerking off or doing something else, but he was dressed for the day. Head to toe in black with his hair slicked back, he looked impeccable as always. The expensive watch and pinky ring fit him well. Did he ever dress down? Why did he have to look so handsome?

“Wow,” he said when he caught you staring. “You look… so beautiful.”

“Thanks,” you said, your cheeks warm as he crossed the room toward you.

Your eyelids fluttered when he placed a gentle kiss on your lips and put something in your hand. When did he grab your phone? “Ray’s going to follow you from Addison’s place.”

It was nice that Ray would be the one to go today and not someone else. “Oh, okay,” you said, checking real quick to make sure you didn’t have any missed calls or messages. “You really know where Addison lives then?”

The subtle smirk made your throat go dry. “Let’s go.”

As he led you out, you wondered if Zemo also knew where any of your friends lived. He got to Mrs. Crandle, but didn’t harm her. Would he do anything else? Glancing at Bucky, the men almost seemed to be two sides of the same coin. The difference was that Bucky thought he loved you and he knew how much your friends meant to you.

A text from Addison came through and broke you from your thoughts. “We’ll be waiting outside!”

“On my way!” you sent back. “They’ll be waiting outside,” you told Bucky.

“The plus side of dropping you off is I get to meet your friends before Addison’s wedding,” Bucky smiled. “Do you think she’ll be the maid of honor for our wedding? I already know Steve will be the best man.”

Back to talking about your wedding day. “Most likely. And Dana and Gina as bridesmaids,” you said. They’d be so happy and would never know how everything came about.

“You know what would be fun? Cupcakes. All sorts of flavors so everyone has something they want, but we’ll have a small cake for the two of us,” he smiled more, reaching over to take your hand. “And we should have a two week honeymoon. Minimum.”

You almost choked on your breath. The man did say he wouldn’t be able to stop having you once he started. Was this the kind of love you deserved? Obsession? “That’s a long honeymoon.”

“It’s just a start,” he sighed happily. “Mr. and Mrs. Barnes. Sounds perfect, doesn’t it?”

You glanced at him. “Sounds perfect,” you whispered.

He brushed his thumb over your ring finger. “I just need to get the perfect ring on your finger,” he whispered.

You bit your lip and looked out the window. You could’ve brought him back to reality or pulled away, but you didn’t. You did, however, tense up the closer you got to Addison’s place. This was meant to be your fun day out, but it was going to be about Bucky because your friends would see him. They’d ask questions. They’d be excited and happy for you, too.

Once again there’d be no going back.

Bucky tensed up, too, when he parked. The girls were waiting on the sidewalk and you couldn't help but smile. It was good to see them. “Here we are,” he muttered, squeezing your hand. “And now that we’re here I don’t want you to get out.”

You took a breath. He couldn’t back out now. “I’ll think of you just like you said. How much you want and need me,” you promised him, giving his hand a squeeze this time. “And before you know it you’ll see me tonight.”

He took a breath, too. “I’ll count the minutes,” he said, getting out. You let out a sigh of relief when he went around and helped you out. He had your cardigan in hand, too. “And I have a surprise for you and your friends.”

“A surprise?” you asked.

“Hey!” you heard Addison call out. She waved happily when you made eye contact. “You’re here!”

“Hey,” you smiled, leaning into Bucky when he slipped his arm around you. “I’m here.”

Addison’s face lit up as you walked toward her with Bucky by your side. “Oh, my God. Is this him?!” she asked.

“Him?! Who is him?!” Dana questioned, sweeping an appreciative look over Bucky. She was in a happily committed relationship but appreciated a good-looking man when she saw one. “Who are you?”

“Yeah, who are you?” Gina added with a raised brow. Showing up with a guy wasn’t like you.

“Hi, I’m Bucky,” he smiled charmingly before he gazed at you. “Her boyfriend.”

Your face felt so hot you thought it would catch on fire. He spoke it into existence and made it happen. He weaved the threads of your lives to bring you to this point, to every point.

Addison did an excited little hop. “Yes! Yay! You’re her boyfriend!”

“Yeah, I’m her boyfriend. And you’re Addison, Dana, and Gina,” Bucky smiled, shaking each of their hands. Your blood froze. You never pointed out to him who was who, yet it was another reminder of just how much he knew. “It’s nice to meet you all.”

“AHH!” Addison’s excited shriek made you wince. “She mentioned you were coming to the wedding.”

“I am,” Bucky nodded.

Dana’s jaw dropped. “Hold on. A wedding date?! BOYFRIEND?! Holy fucking shit!”

“Why are we just now finding out you have a boyfriend?!” Gina chimed in.

Bucky held his head high. He was loving this, wasn't he? “Um, surprise?” you lamely spoke, taking in the sight of their shocked and thrilled expressions. They were so happy for you and it nearly made you cry.

Bucky chuckled again and held you tighter. “It’s kind of my fault she hasn’t said much about me. It’s still new and I’ve been selfishly monopolizing her time,” he said. They had no idea how true that statement was. “To be honest, I even begged her to hang out with me today because I love spending time with her, but she was really looking forward to hanging out with you ladies.”

The chorus of “aww’s” would’ve been sweet in any other setting, but he was putting them under his spell. “Okay, but seriously, why are you here with us and not hanging out with your new man?” Dana asked, looking over Bucky again. “I’m on your side, Bucky. She could totally ditch us and we’d get it. Really.”

“I promised him I’d see him tonight,” you said quickly, resting a hand on Bucky’s chest. You didn’t want him to take the bait your friend was unknowingly giving him.

“Yes, you did. And I know you’ll have a blast today,” he said, kissing your temple. “Wait, you ladies weren’t planning on driving or taking a cab, were you?”

“We were going to get an uber or something once my cousin got here,” Addison said.

“Oh, no, no. You can’t take an uber to the winery. That’s your ride,” Bucky said, nodding across the street when a limo pulled up. “My treat.”

You gasped. So did your friends. “Oh, my god. Bucky?” When did he arrange that?

“Surprise,” he smiled, sneaking in a kiss. “And you don’t have to worry about paying for drinks or your meals today either. I’ll make sure it’s taken care of.”

“Holy shit. Are you loaded or something?” Dana blurted out.

“Dana!” Gina hissed. You almost laughed. Dana had no filter, but she meant well. “What she meant was ‘thank you’.”

“It’s fine. Believe it or not, I actually own The 107th, but I don’t really like to brag about it.” Bucky casually shrugged. You stared at him before sneaking another glance at your friends. They were intrigued and completely buying what a ‘sweet’ guy he was. “There is one small catch though, if you don’t mind.”

Addison raised an eyebrow. “What’s the catch?”

“Kotyonok, can you hand her your phone so she can get a photo of us?” he asked, pulling you closer against him and curling his lips in a small smile. “That’s the catch.”

“Oh, my god. He has a sexy nickname for her and everything,” Dana loudly whispered as you handed your phone over.

“A free limo ride with paid food and drinks if we take a photo of you two together? That’s not a catch at all. That’s so sweet!” Addison held the phone up as you tried to put on your best smile. Like it was a normal love story. “One, two, three!”

You stood still for a few seconds before you stole a glance at Bucky. He was looking at you, too, and leaned in for a tender kiss. It was a loving gesture, but you knew it to be possessive, too. Your friends weren’t a threat to your relationship, but Bucky would have all of your attention if he had his way.

“He’s totally enamored,” Dana whispered again.

“I think they can hear you,” Gina whispered back.

“Okay, you two are so photogenic,” Addison swore, handing your phone back. Your breath caught as you swiped through the photos. You two looked like you were in love. How did the camera not catch any of your fear or uncertainty?

Your friends didn’t see it either. All they saw was a happy new couple. Maybe it was better that way.

“I’m not the photogenic one. She is,” Bucky smiled, giving you one more kiss. “Do you mind sending me those, please? Maybe I can frame one of them.”

You bit the inside of your cheek at the additional chorus of “aww’s”. “Sure.” You sent them immediately so he wouldn’t hound you for them later.

Bucky checked his phone when it went off. “Perfect,” he whispered. You thought your friends were going to swoon. “You’ll have to let me know how the winery is. I may have to do an event there in the future.”

Addison smiled and looked between the two of you. “Well, you could check the place out yourself if you want.”

Your heart plummeted and your best friend missed the pleading look in your eyes. “I don’t think-”

“Oh, I couldn’t do that. It’s your day out and me being there makes it feel like I’m crashing the party or keeping tabs on my girl,” Bucky said, rubbing your side.

Your mouth fell open. Were you in the twilight zone? All he ever did was keep tabs on you.

Glancing at the limo, you spotted Ray’s vehicle parked behind it. He couldn’t exactly get out and introduce himself without drawing suspicion because what excuse would he have to be there that your friends would buy? But he did say he could avoid being seen, and you had a feeling he’d still manage to keep a close eye on you today.

“Well, you know we’re going to spend the whole limo ride over hounding her about this new chapter of her love life,” Gina teased.

“I have no doubt,” Bucky winked. “I just hope I’ve made a good impression because she means the world to me and I know she values your opinions.”

“As long as you treat her well. Otherwise, we’ll have to get rid of you.” Addison gave him a hard stare before she smiled. “But I think it’s safe to say you’ve passed the first impression test with flying colors.”

You deflated a bit. That was what you were afraid of. It was better that way. It meant they were safe from Bucky’s wrath.

“I’ll treat her like a queen,” Bucky promised. Whether you wanted it or not. “My girl deserves nothing less than that.”

“You two really are a good looking couple,” Dana noted, wiggling her eyebrows. “I’ll bet the photographer snags some photos of you two at the wedding because how could they not?”

Bucky put a hand on his chest. “I’d love more photos of the two of us, but the focus should be on Addison and Brady since it’s their day.”

He knew all the right things to say.

“You’re too kind.” Addison smiled before her phone went off. Looking at the screen, she groaned. “Of course. My cousin’s just going to meet us there, so I guess we can go?”

“I’ll walk you over,” Bucky offered.

He dug his fingers in enough for you to feel it and you noted the stiffness in his stance as he walked you across the street. Sending you off with your friends was a lot for him, but he had to deal with it. With Ray close by he wouldn’t have to worry about your safety either.

“Thanks again for the limo, Bucky. That was really nice of you,” Addison said.

“No thanks necessary. Just have fun today and drink plenty of water if you do lots of sampling,” he said, pulling you against him before you could get into the limo with your friends. He looked so lost for a split second and immediately leaned into your touch when your hand rested on his cheek. “I love you, Kotyonok. Think of me,” he whispered.

You initiated a gentle kiss which he quickly deepened. It didn’t last long since he had to let you go, but it lingered for both of you. “I will, Bucky.”

You’d think of him after he helped you into the limo. He’d occupy your mind on the drive over. And you’d once again miss the other pair of eyes watching you as you tried to enjoy your day.

Let's hope the day is a fun one. Who is watching? What's Bucky going to do while you're gone? How excited will Thor be when he hears the big news? 😂 Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[ithebookhoarder]

Special Delivery (Spencer Reid x F!Reader)

Description: Something's different about Reid and no-one knows what. However, a surprise delivery to the BAU may just have the answer...

Warnings: Food references, mentions of mental health, mentions of medical procedures, references to smutty behaviour, Spencer being adorable

Masterlist

“Ok. Am I the only one who’s noticed something’s different with Reid lately?” Morgan remarked, watching as the said boy-genuis made his way across the bullpen and over to his desk. 

“Yeah,” Emily hummed, watching the young agent over the rim of coffee cup. She had to admit it - as much as it annoyed her - Morgan was right; Spencer has definitely been acting different. If anything, she was surprised it had taken them all this long to say anything. 

Normally, they were all over each other the moment they noticed anything even remotely different about each other. Hell, she’d barely taken a step off the elevator, after getting an extra few inches cut off at her latest haircut, before the team were quizzing her about possible life changes and whether or not they needed to be worried about her. 

It was a hazard of working with profilers for a living; it was almost impossible to keep anything a secret. No wonder they were all intrigued and slightly confused by the fact that none of them had been able to pinpoint what was going on with their friend. 

The most notable difference was the gradual disappearance of the dark circles under his eyes. Reid also seemed happier in general, less quiet and reserved when talking to others, and it was starting to make agents talk. 

Morgan and Emily stood up straighter as JJ walked over to join the unofficial gossip session. She took one look at the pair and knew immediately what they were whispering about. 

“Are you talking about Reid?”

“Oh yeah,” Morgan grinned, “my money’s on him having finally found someone.”

Emily choked, seemingly as a result of inhaling her coffee at the grand statement. “What?”

“Oh, come on, Miss ‘super spy’. Just look at him,” he teased. “He’s been distracted. He’s all goo-goo eyed and he’s been leaving this place at a normal hour. Like… tell me that doesn’t scream ‘I got a date’.”

“What? It could be loads of things. It doesn’t have to be a date, right JJ?”

“He’s probably just happy. We’ve all been getting more sleep lately and our paperwork is non-existent at the moment,” JJ murmured, reaching past the pair of them to grab for the coffee pot. She was clearly doing her best to try and put this line of questioning to rest. She’d always been the first to protect the younger agent she now saw as a little brother. “Besides, we all know he’s not interested in dating, he hasn’t been since…. Well, you know.”

Morgan groaned. “But what about the secret texts, JJ!” he protested, ignoring the look Emily shot him in return. “He’s been glued to that phone of his and keeps giggling like a school kid. Then there’s the lunches! I know he’s always been organised and likes things a certain way, but damn. His lunches have been like next level - and actually healthy? And I swear he’s had jello like every day.”

JJ rolled her eyes. “You’re basing your profile on jello? Is that it?” 

“Well, no I mean… did you not hear the part about the texting and the taking secret calls and the fact he didn’t come out for drinks last night-”

“-Can’t we just be glad for him? Whatever is going on, it’s good for him. Let’s just drop it, ok? He’ll tell us when he’s ready if there’s anything to share.”

“JJ’s right,” Emily echoed. “Reid’s just … happy. End of.”

By the way Morgan frowned it looked like it definitely was not the end of this conversation, but he never got the chance to argue. In fact, he was interrupted as the main doors opened next to them and a rather lost looking receptionist hurried through. 

Normally, this wouldn’t have been worth noticing but all three of them spun around at the sound of him calling out the name, “Agent Reid? uh… Is Agent Reid here?”

“Oh, uh, here!” Spencer shouted, soundly vaguely like he was taking roll call. It didn’t help that he shot his arm up in the air too, almost falling off his desk chair as he lurched to his feet and hurried over. “That’s… that’s me - and it’s Dr Reid, but it doesn’t matter. How can I help?”

“Oh, uh, there’s a Y/N at reception for you,” the unfortunate messenger managed, gesturing back the way they’d came. “I told them to wait whilst I came to check with you as they’re not on your visitor list-”

Spencer didn’t even let the poor man finish. He was already racing for the door before the man had even made it to the end of the sentence. Needless to say, the others were quick to follow, with Morgan smugly boasting “told you soooo” as he went. 

There was no way on earth they were missing this and considering Hotch and Rossi hadn’t arrived yet it wasn’t like they were about to get their asses handed to them for missing their briefing either. 

Despite the amount Spencer had told you about the BAU, you were still surprised by how different the FBI offices were to what you’d imagined. 

The offices were larger and the sheer number of people walking about in suits and carrying a side arm made you feel even more nervous, and that was already a problem considering you were stood there wearing neon blue scrubs, embroidered with jungle animals on the pocket. 

You were like a walking, flashing sign, screaming ‘outsider - does not work here’.  Thankfully, you weren’t going to be there long. You were only swinging by on your way to work, hoping to catch your utterly perfect - and utterly forgetful - boyfriend, before the start of your shift. 

Speaking of Spencer, you had only been standing there for possibly five minutes when you saw him barreling through the doors towards you. 

“Hey, Spence-“

“Y/N? Honey? What’s going on?” he gushed, hurrying over and taking your face in his hands. You could see his wide eyes frantically scanning every inch of you, looking for some kind of problem or sign that you were not ok. “Is everything alright? What are you doing here?”

You felt your cheeks warm at the sudden display of concern, very much aware of the scene your wonderful boyfriend was making. Spencer wasn’t normally the most affectionate in public, preferring to save those rare moments for when the two of you were alone. The fact he was so worried about what might have brought you to the FBI on a Tuesday morning was touching and made your heart swell. 

“I’m fine, Spence. Don’t worry-” 

“Then what are you doing here?” 

“You forgot something,” you soothed, pulling back and reaching into your satchel. It was impossible to miss the way his face reddened as you pulled out a neatly labeled Dr Who Tupperware by way of explanation. “I’m here because you were in such a rush this morning that you forgot your lunch.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, ‘oh’,” you teased. “I couldn’t exactly let you go hungry so I thought I’d drop it off on my way to work. I don’t start till later as I’m covering Amelia’s shift as she’s visiting her sister in Boston, so I thought I’d swing by.”

Sure, Spencer was an adult and you could have let him just buy something from the cafeteria or order something in for lunch, but considering how much effort he had gone to to cook with you the day before you felt bad letting it go to waste. 

He’d been so proud of the way the recipe had turned out, following the instructions and your guidance with extreme precision and care. The result had been a rather tasty looking dish - and it had the added benefit of being healthy too. You were always worried that Spencer seemed to think fast food, like Pizza, was a food group. Then again, he had been forced to be an adult pretty fast and had been in college so young that it wasn’t a surprise that no-one had been there to teach him about cooking and eating right. He had been too focused on his studies to even think about anything else.  

It was something he had been working on since you’d got together and now cooking had become one of your favourite date night activities. It didn’t hurt that you often ended up spilling food all over yourselves and needing to shower together - it was just a lovely bonus. In fact, your screensaver was now a picture of you and Spencer, covered in flour, and beaming ear to ear. 

“Thank you, that… that’s so nice,” Spencer stammered, “but I feel bad. You didn’t need to go out of your way and bring it to me.”

“As I say, it’s on my way to work. It’s no trouble.”

“Well, still-“

“Hey, pretty boy!” 

Spencer froze. 

“You gonna introduce us to your friend, or what?”

Spencer opened his mouth but instantly closed it again. You knew by the way he rolled his eyes and began muttering under his breath that whoever had shouted that had definitely been talking to him. 

You couldn’t help but giggle. “Pretty boy, huh?” 

“Don’t ask,” he whined, taking a deep breath as you looked over his shoulder and saw a small group of people now making their way towards you. “I should probably mention that I wasn’t sure how comfortable you were with me mentioning you, so I haven’t told anyone about us yet and those idiots are some of my team and I would say ‘run’ but they’re all faster than me.”

“Ah… I see. So I’m guessing that one is Morgan?” 

“Yes.”

“Well, no time like the present,” you cheered, turning and waving at the approaching trio. “Hi. Nice to meet you. I’m Y/N - Spencer’s girlfriend.”

“Wow. A girlfriend?” cooed Morgan, reaching over to pull you into a hug before the other two could stop him. To their credit, they looked slightly embarrassed by the display but they were clearly too interested in your identity to care. “And a doctor to boot? Didn’t know he had it in him. I’m Derek Morgan.”

“Oh, I worked that out. It’s good to finally meet you all.” 

The others were quick to echo the sentiment, with JJ and Emily quickly introducing themselves in tandem. They were also quick to invite you inside the office for some coffee, but thankfully you weren’t lying when you said you had to get to work. 

“You know how it is. People to take care of, medical cases to solve, lives to save - same old, same old. All I’m missing is a snazzy badge and I could be an FBI agent.” 

“Ha ha.” Spencer’s smile was genuine as you stole a kiss before making a dash for your car. However, you could see the nerves in his eyes at being left alone to face the great inquisition that now awaited him following the discovery of your existence. You were pretty sure the entire BAU would know about you before it even hit lunchtime. “I’ll see you later, ok?” 

“Of course. Just let me know if you’re coming home or if you’re off saving the world in another state - otherwise I can’t promise I won’t eat all the leftovers before you get back.” 

He chuckled. “Will do.” 

With that, you bid the others goodbye, making sure to agree when they asked (more like insisted) that you came to their family dinner on Friday night at none other than Rossi’s house. The rest of the team were going to be begging to meet you after this, and they were all bringing their families along too. 

If Spencer wasn’t comfortable with you going you were pretty sure the team would believe it if you said you’d got called into a last minute surgery, but you’d check later when you both returned to the apartment you now called your home. Either way, you were going to have to make something to take with you, just in case. 

As your grandpa had always said, there was no quicker way to someone’s heart than through their stomach. Or, as in Spencer's case, with an unlimited supply of Jello...

[metamatar]

Since the early days of British involvement with Zionism, Churchill sanctioned the dispossession of non-Jewish Palestinians by assuring that they have no voice in the affairs of their own land. “In the interests of the Zionist policy,” he stated in August 1921 as the government minister in charge of Britain’s colonies, “all elective institutions have so far been refused to the Arabs.”

A snapshot of Churchill’s stances on Palestine and race is found in the records of the 1937 Peel Commission hearings, convened to address a major revolt in Palestine. [...]

Horace Rumbold [...] asked whether Zionist policy is worth “the lives of our men, and so on.” And did it follow, he asked Churchill, that having “conquered Palestine we can dispose of it as we like?”

Churchill replied to that and similar questions by invoking commitments given when Britain captured Palestine toward the end of 1917. “We decided in the process of conquest of [Palestine] to make certain pledges to the Jews,” Churchill said.

Apparently skeptical, the head of the commission, William Peel, asked Churchill if it is not “a very odd self-government” when “it is only when the Jews are a majority that we can have it.”

Churchill responded with a blunt argument of might: “We have every right to strike hard in support of our authority.”

The historian Reginald Coupland nonetheless told the hearings that the “average Englishman” would wonder why the Arabs were being denied self-government, and why we had “to go on shooting the Arabs down because of keeping his promise to the Jews.”

Peel, similarly, asked Churchill if the British public “might get rather tired and rather inquisitive if every two or three years there was a sort of campaign against the Arabs and we sent out troops and shot them down? They would begin to enquire, ‘Why is it done? What is the fault of these people?… Why are you doing it? In order to get a home for the Jews?’”

“And it would mean rather brutal methods,” added Laurie Hammond, who had worked with the British colonial administration in India. “I do not say the methods of the Italians at Addis Ababa,” referring to Benito Mussolini’s Ethiopian massacre of February 1937, “but it would mean the blowing up of villages and that sort of thing?” The British, he recalled, had blown up part of the Palestinian port city of Jaffa.

Peel agreed, and added that “they blew up a lot of [Palestinian] houses all over the place in order to awe the population. I have seen photographs of these things going up in the air.”

But when Peel questioned whether “it is not only a question of being strong enough,” but of “downing” the Arabs who simply wanted to remain in their own country, Churchill lost patience.

“I do not admit that the dog in the manger has the final right to the manger,” he countered, “even though he may have lain there for a very long time.” He denied that “a great wrong has been done to the Red Indians of America, or the Black people of Australia,” by their replacement with “a higher grade race.”

[gay-dorito-dust]

Remy fic for @littlekidsteve

It has only been a little while since you and Remy had managed to escape the void along with Electra, Laura and Blade before biding them farewell, all the while you and Remy took a long walk as you both tried to figure out what you were going to do now that you were free.

Out of everyone you and Remy were the closet and so the idea of saying goodbye to one another after everything felt wrong, Remy had become apart of you as you became a vital part of him, so much so to the point neither of you could fathom an life without the other being apart of it some way or another.

‘Got any plans now that we’ve escaped the void?’ You asked him and he hums while shuffling his playing cards, a habit you noticed he had whether he was in need of a distraction or in deep thought.

‘I have been in the void for so long that I didn’t think I’d ever get out mon Cher, nor would get out so I made my inescapable prison a home, so all this is…rather new to me.’ Remy admits as he looked over at you with a soft expression before nudging you with his shoulder. ‘You have lived a life before the void, I think you’d be better suited for that question.’

You chuckled as you rubbed the back of your neck. ‘Yeah well I’m pretty sure they’ve pruned it by now, so I’m just as lost as you are and I haven’t been in the Void nearly as long as you have.’ You told him and Remy couldn’t help but chuckle as he went to grab your hand, intertwining it with his own. ‘Then we shall find a way to navigate our new life, together.’ He promised as he then brought your hand up to his lips before softly kissed it.

‘You promise?’ You asked.

‘I promise mon Cher.’ Remy echoed and suddenly everything felt like it was going to be okay, the void was long behind you both as the future was on the horizon, waiting for your both to take it

And soon enough with time and patience you and Remy found yourselves in your own little apartment -that was funnily enough not far from where Wade, Blind Al and Logan lived- and living a quiet, domestic lifestyle, just like you had wanted for a long time but couldn’t due to certain circumstances. You couldn’t help but smile softly upon first seeing Remy with an peaceful expression on his face as he slept, he looked beautiful and at ease with everything that you found yourself admiring him in silence, not wanting to ruin this moment by sneezing or shifting your weight and waking him by accident.

‘Wade is right. You are beautiful.’ You muttered lowly as you memorised his face and the way the light from the window made his skin glow an almost golden hue, making him look ethereal, as you took the time to appreciate the way his eyelashes kissed the apples of his cheeks. Remy was a handsome man and you were in no shape or form to deny it when you were more then aware of this face since the moment you met, but it wasn’t his physical appearance that drew you in but more or less his heart and his ability to light up anything that he touched, and soon enough you found yourself falling for the Cajun Frenchman more then you’d originally thought.

Remy has consumed your every waking and sleeping thought, claimed your body and heart as his own with how his eyes never seemed to leave you the moment you entered the room, smiling at you warmly before cross over to stand next to you for the rest of the day while occasionally showing off a new card trick he learnt. Even during combat Remy would stay close by to keep you safe when he felt that someone was getting too close for comfort by throwing one of his kinetically charged playing cards at them, and when you look over at him he just winks at you and continues the fight.

‘I can sense you watching me mon Cher.’ Remy said as he smiles cheekily, opening one eye to look at you as he brought a hand behind your head, pulling you in for a brief but sweet kiss before pulling away to look at you. ‘Am I really as beautiful as you say?’ He adds in a whisper as though he didn’t want anyone else to hear your conversation.

‘You can’t be blind to your own beauty can you Remy?’ You asked as you moved a hand to rest upon his chest, tapping your fingers against his skin in an unheard rhythm.

‘I’m not, I just want to hear you say it.’ Remy replied as he found his eyes wandering across your face with fondness and admiration. You couldn’t help but laugh as you rested your head against his chest, nuzzling into him. ‘You are indeed beautiful Remy Lebeau, the most beautiful man I have ever laid my eyes on.’ You admit as you look at him, pressing a kiss to his chin as you felt his arms tighten on you, restraining you from moving away from him.

‘You flatter me Cher, but it is you who’s the most beautiful.’ Remy says as he presses a kiss to the top of your head, breathing in the shampoo and conditioner you used and closing his eyes, never having the luxury of experiencing peace before in his life but finding himself falling in love with it as fast as he did with you. Remy felt as though he could stay in this bed forever with you but knew with your plans for later today he wouldn’t, though that didn’t stop him from doing whatever he could to keep you in his arms.

‘Wade, Logan, Laura and their friends are coming over soon.’ You murmured.

‘I know.’ Remy relied.

‘We should get up soon.’ You continued.

‘I know.’ Remy repeated as he kissed your head again, cuddling you further into his chest. ‘We’ll get up soon, but for now can we just…stay here, please Cher.’ He adds in a plea and you couldn’t help but feel yourself slipping into sleep the longer you stayed in Remy’s comforting and strong arms.

‘I guess five minutes wouldn’t hurt.’ You said as you nuzzled yourself into his neck, kissing it. ‘Then we’ll have to…to…wake.’ Before you could finish your sentence you had found yourself fast asleep as Remy smiled down at you. ‘I’m sure they won’t mind Cherie, they’ll understand.’ He says before joining you in dream land.

Bonus:

‘Where the fuck are they?!’ Wade shouted as he, Logan, Laura, Al, dogpool and the rest of his friends stood outside in the hallway to yours and Remy’s apartment after banging on the door for the past five minutes.

‘They’re probably still asleep, best we leave them be before we fucking wake the rest of the apartment complex.’ Logan said, side eyeing Wade as he sifted the welcome gifts in his arms.

Wade pouts and just as they were about to leave, a rugged and scruffy looking you and Remy opened the door to greet them as Wade laughs. ‘You two looked like as though we’ve interrupted something between you two.’ Wade the leaned towards you to whisper. ‘Is the French dick that good?’ You glared at him as you flicked him on the forehead, watching him as he winced and rubbed his forehead with a pout.

‘We may or may not have overslept thanks to someone.’ You nudged Remy in the side as he smiles cheekily and brings an arm to your waist, tugging you into his side. ‘Guilty as charged.’ He said proudly as you both stepped aside for everyone to enter your shared apartment before joining them, happy to have known such weird yet beautiful people.

[k-hippie]

K-505 LIFE & DEATH - WELCOME TO RAVENWOOD

So, you made your k-505 basegame update ? ( see previous post ) Excellent ! And you already downloaded k-303 and k-606 updated just for you ? ( see previous post ) Great ! Now, let's talk about the new expansion terrains and urban k-505 mod for Life & Death :)

Welcome to Ravenwood, where life and the afterlife hang out together. This little town might look all quaint and charming. Now, whether you’re living with ghosts, working under the Grim Reaper itself, or just hanging around for the vibes, Ravenwood is ready to accommodate. We’re really hoping you’re here for more than just those haunted trees, though—because frankly, they’re as weird as they are creepy …

Ramparts and flower bushes, trees and paved streets. As usual, we did our best to make this little place better. With or without the Grim Reaper's approval. Hell, we just revamped the place and left as soon as we could :D

Even we know there will be tiny updates to do in the coming weeks, we tried to bring a bit of depth. This place is now beautiful and no Lord Vampire ( hello Vlad ! ) no Death and no ghost ( tree or cowplant ) can argue against it and claim a refund ( ha! talk about a loophole ) because once you see Ravenwood with this k-505 overhaul, there's no going back ... :D You are warned !

We brought ramparts that look like they’ve survived a thousand hauntings, lush flower bushes that’d make any ghost jealous, and revamped the streets with cobblestones just begging to be strolled by mysterious figures at midnight ;)

With the Grim Reaper’s silent nod ( or maybe just his lack of objection ), we’ve given the place a full facelift—adding textures and details that even Vlad might have to admit are an improvement.

Now, between haunted trees, ghostly cowplants, and whatever else wanders these streets at night, Ravenwood has the polished but spooky glow it deserves. And hey, if any ghouls want a refund, they’ll have to take it up with Grim itself ( because yes : we have some agreement indeed ) :D

Are you ready to get a deeper and immersive gameplay ?

PLEASE, do not forget : delete the existing K-505 BASEGAME files and replace them with the ones ( dated as 11112024 ) provided in the previous post. Do not panic, the grassy and groundy parts are still dated 08082024 because untouched since this date :)

As usually, have fun ! xoxo everyone :)

download Ravenwood k-505 mod

...

[johnhwatsonblog]

Alright… Here goes all or nothing, I suppose...

Sherlock. Sherlock. @artofdeductionbysholmes

Do you remember the first time we sat here? I was… nervous. Nervous about you. Nervous about being with you, about whether I could keep up without making a fool of myself, about whether we’d even last this long. Nervous about… everything, really. And here I am... Nervous again. Though this time, for a slightly different reason.

Fifteen years ago, I sensed that you were throwing me a lifeline I desperately needed, and I was right. You gave my life purpose by pulling me into the madness, and I guess that says more about me than about you… But I never really had a choice after that. Nor did I want a different choice. I was hooked.

I didn’t realize back then how much I’d come to need you. How much I’d want to be part of the chaos, the mysteries, the danger… and of you. How much I’d want to be part of us.

I thought I was just tagging along for the ride, just a guy trying to fill the gap in your life. If anything, I had no idea how much you would fill mine. I had no idea what I was stepping into. You weren’t the distraction I thought you were—you were the reason I started breathing again, living again. And I didn’t dare admit that to myself until it was almost too late.

Sherlock, I’ve spent fifteen years beside you, in the middle of all the chaos, through moments when I thought I'd never see you again. I’ve spent fifteen years not knowing how to handle being properly us. But every single time, I couldn’t walk away. I didn’t want to walk away. Because it was always you, Sherlock. You. It was always the way you made me see the world differently, the way you needed me even when you didn’t know how to show it. And even when we almost lost everything… I still needed you. And I think… I know I always will.

Perhaps I shouldn’t bring up Mary right now, but it’s important that you understand this:

I loved her, yes. She was everything I needed at a time when I was looking for stability, for peace, for someone to build a life with. And for a while, that’s exactly what I thought I wanted. She gave me the family I didn’t know I wanted, the kind of love that was steady and real. But, as much as I loved her, it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t the same as you, Sherlock.

You and I—what we have—it’s, I don’t care how cliché this must sound, it’s different. It’s not just a love built on quiet moments or the comfort of shared days. It’s something that shakes me to my core. Every time I’m with you, I feel like the ground beneath me is shifting. It’s unpredictable, thrilling. It’s essential.

There’s a force between us that pulls me in, whether I’m ready for it or not. I never expected to need you as much as I do, but that’s the truth of it. You make me see the world in ways I never could have imagined before you walked into my life.

With you, I’ve never felt more alive, more like I’m part of something far greater than myself. You’ve turned my world upside down, in a way I never thought I needed, and I know I can’t live without it.

The love I have for you, Sherlock… that’s the one that truly shakes the foundations of who I am. It’s the kind of love that changes everything. And I think I’ve always known, deep down, that it was never really a choice. Not for me.

You’ve been the constant in my life. Through everything we’ve been through, you’ve been the one thing I can rely on. Even when you were… away… I sought you out and found you. You were—and are—ingrained in my very existence. And I’ve realized something crucial in the last year: I will never want it any other way. Nothing matters to me more than this. I just want you.

And I know I’ve never been good at expressing this, but Sherlock… I’m asking you now, in this place, of all places—where it all started, where we began as just partners—to be. To be officially more than just partners for the rest of our lives. I'm ready to make that vow.

I promise you I will never take you for granted. That I will never hurt you as I have before. That I will spend the rest of my days proving to you that I am worthy of being in your life.

Here I am, hoping that you allow me at least this convention.

I guess what I’m asking is….

[chantillyxlacey]

i've seen a lot of takes (i am using the word 'take' absolutely neutrally here; and i'm specifying neutrality bc i have started to see that word as having inherently negative connotations in this context and i have no idea if that's just a Me Problem but i figured specificity couldn't hurt)

okay, that got away from me, let me start again

i've seen a lot of takes about The Damsel that have to do with idealization being another kind of dehumanization and how she's Like She Is because you/TLQ are projecting a fantasy onto her and sanding away any traits that don't fit into that fantasy and rendering her into little more than a vessel for your/TLQ's wish fulfillment

and i don't necessarily think that's *wrong* either-- but i think that's also not the complete picture, and that only looking that that half of the image does kind of tend to paint TLQ in an unfairly bad light

because the thing is, in The Damsel's route, TLQ is ALSO being reduced to an archetype just as much as The Damsel herself is! The Princess becomes the quintessential fairytale fair-maiden-in-distress that exists only to be rescued by a knight-in-shining-armor; and TLQ-- if you allow them to be guided entirely by The Smitten-- becomes that quintessential fairytale knight-in-shining-armor that only exists to rescue the fair-maiden-in-distress

The Damsel says over and over, explicitly, that "I just want to make you happy!" and The Smitten in this route is equally preoccupied with making HER happy-- he even says it directly if you start deconstructing her. every other part of his identity has been subsumed to revolve entirely around her just as much as the reverse is true for her.

(speaking of the Deconstructed Damsel, i've also seen Smitten's reaction to that touted as him not caring about her agency-- but again, i always read that as him being unable to see any flaws in her rather than being pleased with the idea of her being biddable, specifically. if you halt the deconstruction his reaction is "she's ALWAYS been perfect" -- he'd think that no matter what she did or said, because his identity revolves around her the exact way that hers revolves around him/TLQ)

even the actions that lead to HEA fit into this, i think-- i read that moment as less The Smitten lashing out at her because she didn't live up to his fantasy-- it still happens even after she's said "i guess we can stay, if that's what you want"-- she's giving The Smitten what he wants, but he's still distressed because SHE'S not happy

i think it's more The Smitten feeling that HE hadn't lived up to HIS half of their shared fantasy. if she's not happy with the idea of "all we need is each other" then it must be because HE failed somehow. if she needs or wants more than him, it must be because HE is not enough.

if he was just better at playing his part, if he just offered her more, if he was just clearer about his devotion--

"if we just showed her the contents of our heart, she'd be happy"

that's not to say that what The Smitten does in HEA isn't incredibly toxic for both of them-- it definitely is, and it clearly makes both the Princess and TLQ miserable. "everything she doesn't know she wants" is a bad mindset to approach a relationship with, whether that mindset is reached through controlling selfishness or a desperation to appease (and i definitely think Smitten is motivated by the latter-- it's no coincidence that we arrive at HEA through a literal and fatal act of self mutilation)

he's definitely the antagonist of HEA, in that he is what TLQ and the Princess and the player need to overcome, but he's not a VILLAIN (which i think is most clearly illustrated in the moment where the Princess admits she's unhappy, that she's never been happy here, and his reaction is to GIVE UP instead of lash out harder)

i never got the sense that The Smitten was ever putting any blame on The Damsel-- he always considered *himself* to be the problem-- he puppeteers TLQ just as much as he does the Princess, even if we can't hear him while she can, and he asks TLQ/the player through her "isn't this enough? isn't this what you wanted?"

which in and of itself is an unhealthy way to approach a relationship-- blaming oneself for every bit of conflict or lapse in synchronicity is just as harmful as laying all the blame on the other person. there IS no blame-- sometimes people disagree or have conflicting needs or desires, and that's not anybody's "fault" because that's just how people and relationships WORK.

...can you believe i wrote out all of this when my original intention was to lay out an entirely different point about a read on The Damsel/HEA routes that wasn't about relationships at all?

OKAY!

THAT GOT AWAY FROM ME LET ME START AGAIN

so i don't think that looking at The Damsel/HEA through a lens of "what does this say about relationships and expectations and respecting other people's agency" is incorrect-- clearly i have a lot of thoughts about that lens!

but i wanted to offer another one that i haven't seen yet:

The Damsel/HEA route as a commentary on what makes a satisfying narrative

if you play out The Damsel route just single-mindedly taking actions to free her-- it's kinda dull, isn't it? like-- it's not without its charms! The Smitten is silly and entertaining and the Narrator's exaggerated pettiness is very funny! but ultimately, that's about it.

potential sources of conflict are brushed aside-- if you took the blade with you, you just drop it and it gets forgotten; the Damsel's hand slips right out of the manacle with no effort or harm; when the Narrator locks the basement door, every 'choice' you make just magically unlocks it right away. and then you're outside, what you wanted to do from the start. ...so what do we do now?

nothing, actually. the chapter ends, and there is no chapter 3. the game itself continues, but that ending feels about as substantial as the Narrator's "Good Ending" where you follow his instructions without question and accomplish his goal immediately.

if you DON'T take either of the actions that lead to one of Damsel's chapter 3's, there's very little variation in The Damsel's story-- pretty much all of it comes down to slight differences in dialogue. there's no "the princess kills you" outcome. the closest thing to an alternate end to The Damsel is if you deconstruct her-- and even then, it feels like less an "alternate route" and more like-- a cheeky acknowledgement of the lack of substance, because that isn't a bug, it's a feature!

but if you introduce conflict-- either in the more direct sense by slaying The Damsel or in the more interpersonal sense by highlighting a mis-match in her and TLQ's desires-- suddenly the story opens up! there are a bunch of new possibilities and a bunch of new outcomes, and all of them are more interesting than "you achieve your goal with trivial effort, hooray!"

Even if you wind up finishing HEA on a note that is superficially very similar to the easy end of The Damsel's route-- you leave hand in hand with her, the narrator conceding defeat, and the last image of her before TSM takes her is a warm, tender smile-- it FEELS so much more like a genuine happy ending-- even though the Princess' face is still streaked and stained from her tears. BECAUSE of that.

it's one of the most heartwarming moments in the game, and one that has made me misty eyed every time i've seen it, and it's BECAUSE of the conflict you had to go through to get there.

conflict is what drives a compelling narrative, is the takeaway. it precludes PERFECT endings, perhaps, but not happy endings-- it's what makes those imperfect happy endings feel substantial and earned.

even the dinner and the board game contribute to the idea-- the description of the food is some really lovely writing, to the point where i sat through and listened to it all again even though i knew nothing really happens during it-- but *nothing really happens during it*. it doesn't move the narrative forward-- you're just as hungry as you were when you started. it just stalls the story in place, and every time you go through it again it's less satisfying until it's outright unpleasant. the description of the meal also notably gets simpler each time, and less detailed-- there's only so much that you can say about it before you run out of things to describe.

the board game is similar-- the way that it's described the first time you play even sounds like the description of an exciting story! and then the board resets, and you do it all again just the same. and so on. the game/story stops being exciting and the wins or losses stop feeling like they mean anything-- because is conflict really conflict, is a challenge really a challenge, if you're always tracing the same path, always making moves where you already know the outcome? it becomes "a slog towards the end"

and this is how i tie the idea of "what Damsel/HEA has to say about relationships" and "what Damsel/HEA has to say about narratives" together:

ultimately, the statements can be summarized the same way "whether in a narrative or a relationship, 'perfection' is unattainable, but you wouldn't actually want it anyway"

conflict, substance, variety

in a relationship there will always be differences of opinion, differing goals etc-- variety between the members of the relationship, knowing and sharing this substantial and non-superficial information about one another, navigating the resultant conflict-- that's what allows the relationship to grow and deepen, and what allows the people in it to grow as individuals as well.

in a narrative, or in Narratives, as a whole, conflict is what makes things HAPPEN, substance makes them feel like what happens MATTERS, like something is being communicated, variety means that you're learning or considering something new-- and those are what make a narrative capable of impacting a person, of changing them, of being remembered

[chaoticwriting]

FENTON CRIME FAMILY 4

-Wayne Manor, Gotham-

Damian straightens out his shirt a little as he stands in front of his siblings. He doesn't know why nor would he admit that he is a little nervous right now. They are currently at the theater room waiting for whatever Damian has prepared for them. Except for Dick and Jason, all of the siblings are here.

Tim: Would you explain to us already why you want us here?

Damian: Silence Drake. I am gathering my thoughts here.

Steph: Ugghhh, just tell us already. I am already close to cracking up Cass to confess who she is hanging out with.

Cass: No you aren't.

Steph: Yes, I am.

Duke: Umm, guys. I think Damian is ready.

Suddenly the lights turn off and the projector starts to show a slide show.

Damian: So, I thank each one of you for making time to come to this meeting today.

Tim:*Whispering* Oh wow, he must really need our help if he even thanks us for just being here.

Damian:*Glaring at Tim* As you all are aware, I am going out on an outing the day after tomorrow. Although I am sufficiently trained in proper dressing up, I would like to have a second or maybe third opinion.

Steph: You mean fifth opinion? Cause there are like 4 of us here.

Damian: It is a figure of speech, Brown. I'm sure you are not stupid enough to not know that.

Tim: I think he is trying to insult you but that sounds like a praise to me.

Duke: It's because you are a weirdo. How about we get back on track? So, what do you want our opinion on?

Damian turns the slide and a selection of clothes appears.

Damian: I need you to give me your opinion on which set of clothes are the most suitable for my outing.

Cass: What is the specific criteria for the selection?

Damian: I want the clothes to flesh out my features more.

Duke: As in making you look more handsome?

Damian: Yes.

Tim: Why do you need to look more handsome? I thought you are just going for some outing?

Steph: Shit! Don't you see it, Tim? He is going on a date. Look at those clothes. Those are the clothes that he only wears if there is a special occasion.

Duke: You are going on a date? With who? Does Bruce or Alfred know?

Damian: I already told Alfred about my outing. I am holding off on informing father of this event until there is any further progress. As for who, it is none of your concern.

Tim: Wait. Then why do you want our opinion on what you wear?

Damian: Because all of you have experience in relationships before. I would have invited Grayson if not for his fashion sense.

Duke: Fair warning, though. I am not good at these clothing things. It is usually Isabella that chooses my clothes.

Damian: Of course I know that. But given you are in a relationship with Ortiz for a long time already, I would assume her sense of fashion has already rubbed off a little on you.

Steph: Wait, so we are just gonna ignore that he is going on a date? Aren't any of you curious?

Tim: I already got her files. Name is Dani Fenton. 15. No school. Lives in the Bowery. Her sister is the therapist that Bruce is seeing. Has a brother. Her internet history is very clean. Like super duper clean. Almost tailored to make it seem like that.

Duke: Chances it is forged?

Tim: Likely. But I can't seem to find anything about her. Whether it is physical or online.

Cass: Are you sure she is safe?

Damian: Yes.

Steph: I'm not gonna stop you from romancing her but considering who you are the son of, we might need to prepare just in case.

Duke: Oh yeah. Hopefully she isn't anything like that. The last thing we need is another rogue in Gotham.

-Crime Alley-

Red Hood: So, why do you want to meet?

Spectre: I have information that you might want.

Spectre (Ellie) throws a file with a big red 'SECRET' on it onto the table. Red Hood picks it up and opens it.

As he flips through the pages, his breath becomes more ragged. His eyesight slowly turns more green and he could feel his blood pumping at a higher rate as his anger slowly builds up while reading the file.

Especially when he reads the part where they are part of the government. How dare the government do this? Not only are they killing people, they also label them as non living.

Red Hood: What do you want me to do with this information?

Spectre: It is up to you really. Since you are technically a hero, I decide to give this information to you first. However, do know that if you wish to take action, please do it quickly. A lot of "people" wish to have a piece of them.

After Spectre says that, she stands up from her chair and goes out of the room. Red Hood watches as the young gang leader leaves his office. Eyeing the file, he will call the Outlaw tomorrow. There is a government base to be blown up.

[writerfromshikahr]

----------------------------------------------------------

Lath’halani - Lucanis X Rook Fanfic

----------------------------------------------------------

Lucanis knelt, examining the small flowers scattered across the ground. Their vibrant pink petals caught his eye, delicate and striking.

“Whatcha found?” Bellara asked, her curiosity piqued.

“These flowers, they’re beautiful.” Lucanis’s gloved fingers brushed the petals with care.

Bellara leaned over his shoulder, her eyes lighting up. “Oh! I know what they are. In Dalish they are called "Lath’halani", it loosely translates into "Love's Healing". The story goes, if you give them to someone special, they’ll always take care of your heart, and you.”

“A flower can do all that?”

“Well, not literally,” Bellara admitted. “It’s just a myth, but a romantic one! And sometimes, we all need a little more tenderness in our lives, right?”

Lucanis stood, levelling her with a look. “I’m a Crow, Bellara. What part of my work screams ‘romantic’ to you?”

She grinned impishly. “Which is exactly why you should pick some and give them to....” She stopped abruptly, her mouth snapping shut.

“Give them to who?” He frowned, waiting.

“Well,” she began, shifting awkwardly, “Look, you didn’t hear this from me because I don’t like to gossip—”

“Could have fooled me,” he interrupted dryly. “Go on.”

Bellara forged ahead, unbothered. “But I’ve noticed... something between you and Rook. The way you two sneak glances at each other, honestly.... it’s adorable. Like one of those stories where they don’t kiss until chapter thirty, but the tension is delicious. She’ll probably tell you, one star-filled night in Treviso, that you’re the only person who’s ever made her feel safe. And, in the end, you’ll save each other. Classic.”

“You got all that just from me looking at someone and smiling?” Lucanis muttered.

“Uh-huh.” Bellara’s energy remained as bouncy as ever. “I swear, I’m writing this down later. The Assassin’s Promise—a tale of love, danger, and...”

“Bellara,” he cut her off, his tone sharp. “If you write anything about me, I’ll swap your sugar for salt the next time I cook.”

“Fine, fine,” she relented, though her grin said otherwise. “All I’m saying is maybe you should pick some flowers for Rook. Take them back to the Lighthouse. I think she’d love them.”

Lucanis regarded her for a long moment, then knelt again, plucking a few blooms. He wrapped them carefully in his handkerchief and tucked them into the small pouch he usually reserved for poisons.

“I knew it!” Bellara squeaked, clapping her hands.

Lucanis shot her a look and sighed, “What exactly did you know?” His tone was flat, but a flicker of curiosity lingered.

“That underneath all the grumpiness and doom, you’re just a big softie. A romantic at heart!”

Lucanis rolled his eyes so hard that Bellara feared they might stick.

“I assure you, Bellara, whatever you think you know, you don’t.”

“Mm-hmm. That’s exactly what someone in denial would say.” She clasped her hands behind her back and practically skipped alongside him as they headed back to the Eluvian. “You’re going to give those flowers to Rook, aren’t you? You should. She’d love them. She’d look at you with those big, doe eyes and probably blush to her ears. So sweet.”

“Bellara…” His tone carried a warning, though it lacked bite.

“But I digress,” she continued breezily. “If you’d rather be the brooding type who stares longingly across the room and never acts on his feelings, that’s fine too. Classic slow-burn. Delicious tension. So much angst.”

Lucanis stopped abruptly, fixing her with a flat stare. “Do you ever stop talking?”

“Not when it’s this much fun.” Her grin was unapologetic.

For a moment, Lucanis debated whether or not to toss her into the nearest river. Ultimately, he decided against it, if only because she’d probably swim back with more commentary. Instead, he shook his head, whispered something in Antivan to himself, and resumed walking.

Bellara trailed behind him at a respectable distance or perhaps a strategic one, but she couldn’t resist one last parting shot. “Just think about it, Lucanis. You, Rook, flowers, romance… a story for the ages!”

Lucanis didn’t dignify her with a response, though his fingers brushed the pouch at his side, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

[daeneryscel]

this is an INCREDIBLY disingenuous take, which doesn’t shock me in the slightest despite season two utterly destroying the fanon perception of alicent many have made up in their minds.

rhaenyra did not want to marry laenor, book or show. it is a direct consequence of viserys’ inability to be anything other than a complacent door mat, and daemon attempting to sully rhaenyra’s reputation in the hopes that viserys will marry her to him. the only husband she chooses is daemon.

the show did her far less justice in that it created a storyline of rhaenyra being given a ‘choice’ or at the very least the ‘illusion of choice’ before being forced to marry. the situation leading up to it is roughly the same minus that aspect is the book. i have no doubt in my mind that viserys would have concocted some scheme to bring the velaryons back into the fold regardless of rhaenyra’s reputation being put into question, but i digress. i’m not here to talk about hypotheticals.

rhaenyra has no intentions of not ‘doing her duty’ or ‘not sacrificing herself enough’ in this endeavor. this person is purposely misleading with their usage of only part of the quote (the one that fits the narrative they want to push). below is the dialogue for the scene this person is talking about:

the conversation, as this person so eloquently put, is not about rhaenyra wanting to ‘fuck whoever she pleases.’ it’s two teenagers put into a predicament they don’t want to be in; one because she both does not want to marry and wishes to find love with someone else, and the other a closeted gay man with no interest in women. the full quote is, “that we perform our DUTIES to our fathers, then each of us dines as we see fit.” rhaenyra had no initial interest in not having trueborn children with her husband. this is further proven with the season one episode seven line, “i had hoped to bear your [laenor’s] children.”

another point i’d like to make is WHY exactly is it seen as such a character flaw to not want to be looked down upon, or taken advantage of? to want freedom and flights of fancy and the ability to be happy? a certain someone DID her duty, and she wasn’t happy. she SACRIFICED everything, and she still wasn’t happy. she ultimately decides to gift her sons on a silver platter to the enemy in her pursuit of protecting her daughter and granddaughter; after a conversation where she admits that she was jealous of rhaenyra, for finding that happiness she herself was unable to grasp. this is not a moral failing on rhaenyra’s part. i don’t care what the in world ethics are of any given situation, i’m not going to sit back and look at a system meant to hurt women and root for it, whether my favorite character supports it or not. whether i deem it the ‘safest’ option (it isn’t) for my favorites lives to continue. how is anyone meant to break the wheel if they continuously allow themselves to be stepped on, or god forbid uphold it for their own personal gain?

‘i’m supposed to root* for her?’ you don’t have to root for her. you’re not obliged to. you’re not going to be burned at the stake. you’re not special for siding with overt female subjugation because the only women you deem to deserve better are those who perform their duties unwillingly and sacrifice their bodies and minds in the process. those who don’t fit into mold of the patriarchy be damned, the imperfect victims that they are, the ‘bad’ women of society.

[thatswhatsushesaid]

if i had a nickel for every time i encountered some version of the following observation in the mdzs fandom:

"i'll never understand why fans of jin guangyao and jiang cheng and xue yang keep insisting on defending these characters' virtues. you can just admit that your favourite characters are assholes and terrible people. it's fine. why are you defending them."

i could probably buy myself a packet of some really sick edibles the next time i hit up the dispensary. but more to the point, what truly frustrates me about this observation (aside from the implicit arrogance that seems smugly baked into it every time i stumble upon it) is how completely it misunderstands what villain and antagonist fans are doing when we discuss the positive attributes of our favourite characters. it's the assumption that what we're doing must always be about defence, about arguments, about insisting that the characters we like are Good, Actually, And Here's Why--when in reality i have never, ever, ever encountered a fan of any of these characters who has been interested in definitively declaring that any of them are good or bad people. like that just straight up hasn't been part of the conversations we've been having with each other.

like, what you are interpreting as us "defending a character's virtues" is very often just us literally stating how the characters' actions have had a positive impact on other characters' lives, or the world more broadly. or we are just trying to compare acts of cruelty/violence committed by one of these characters vs the acts of cruelty/violence committed by the protagonist and his inner circle, to draw inferences about one or both characters, to better understand them and the story and how they illustrate various themes, whether mxtx meant for them to appear in the text or not. it's just... analysis. and yes, a core competency when it comes to literary analysis means being able to critically defend your arguments using examples from the source material.

jokes about the jgy or jc stans and "defence squads" aside, it's not about defending individual characters, because the characters don't need a defence, because they're not real. but the work we've all collectively put into examining these characters, and contextualizing their actions within their circumstances within the source material, is certainly real, and it makes sense that we'd want to step up and defend our work when people who disagree with us choose to misrepresent our arguments.

[456x001]

okay huge essay incoming:

and this is based off a post i saw earlier by my awesome mutual @midnight--sadness (her blog is awesome btw) where she talked about gi hun’s ability to forgive in ho. so i’ll start off by prefacing some of the great points she made about gi hun’s trusting nature and his selfless ability to forgive others:

we’ve seen time and time again how trusting gi hun is even if it’s to a fault. it’s simply in his nature to trust and love and to care about other people in the selfless way he does. given that, i think he could forgive in ho. if he sees in ho actually working to make a change and make things right for the betterment of others that have been wronged by the games (and whether or not in ho will or actually even wants to is what we’ll be getting into later), i believe he can forgive him. despite all the horrible things he’s done, despite the unforgivable, irredeemable mistakes he’s made. he’s more than justified in not forgiving him but i’m just saying he might because if anyone could it’s gi hun. he’s made the point time and time again that he isn’t like the masked men and would never become hateful in the ways they are.

now let’s talk a bit about gi hun’s relationship with young-il. gi hun's worry for young-il during the games is so raw and heartfelt. he’s not just strategizing or playing to survive-he genuinely cares about young-il's well-being, even in a scenario where survival often demands selfishness. his willingness to risk everything to make sure young-il was okay shows how deeply gi hun values connection and loyalty. in ho, as the frontman, watches all of this unfold. seeing how much gi-hun cared for his alter ego “young-il" must have left a mark, even if in ho wouldn't openly admit it.

when the truth comes out that young-il and the frontman are the same person it's going to hit gi hun like a ton of bricks. gi hun will have to reconcile the caring, vulnerable young-il with the cold, calculating frontman. it will once again challenge everything he believes about people and their capacity for change. in ho, for all his control and detachment, won't be immune to this confrontation either. gi hun's unwavering belief in him as young-il could be the thing that cracks his carefully built armor.

this dynamic is so layered with unspoken emotions, unacknowledged bonds, and so much potential for heartbreak and redemption. it’s no wonder they gave us at the edge of our seats. now here’s the crux of the discussion. do we think gi hun’s belief in young-il's goodness, his inherent belief in the goodness of people could be enough to pull in ho back toward redemption?

we don’t know the answer to that yet, but i will say this. we’ve seen the final defying act of the villain sacrificing his life at the end for the greater good many times before. however, redemption doesn't always have to end in self-sacrifice. it could mean in ho finding a way to dismantle the system from the inside or choosing to protect gi hun and others while carving out a new path for himself. gi hun's belief in young-il could serve as a bridge for in ho to reconnect with the part of himself that still values humanity, without needing to face total destruction.

in a show like squid game tragedy feels inevitable but in ho's complexity gives him the potential to break free from that cycle of the self-sacrificial villain. if the writers explore his humanity further, there's room for a story where redemption and survival coexist— where he doesn't have to lose his life to find the good within himself.

it’s okay to hope. even in a world as bleak as squid game. personally, to me that feels a lot more compelling than the trope of self sacrifice that we’ve seen in the past. it gives in ho a chance to truly live with his choices, grow from them, and navigate the complexities of redemption, rather than taking the "easy" way out of a grand gesture. it’s a more challenging story to tell for sure but it would also feel satisfying.

i know it may seem like i’m trying to paint a fairy tale but here’s why i think it could work.

squid game thrives on subverting expectations. taking in ho down a path where he survives, changes, and potentially becomes an ally or disruptor within the system could be far more groundbreaking than another shock-value death. it could challenge the audience to grapple with forgiveness and morality in ways that are more impactful than a tragic ending. gi hun's unwavering hope in humanity could become the key to helping in ho see his own worth and capacity for change. in ho is such a layered character, and his survival would be more shocking in a show as grim as squid game. it would challenge the bleakness and give the story a deep emotional payoff. the shock value of how he survives and redeems himself could carry as much weight as a tragic death.

i really value the complexity and emotional depth in this show gives us in within the narrative and i can’t wait to see how hwang dong-hyuk continues to challenge the bounds of storytelling and reach beyond the obvious in season 3 as he’s done with these past two seasons.

[ddejavvu]

you join the team and hangman gets real shy with you and everyone is like

:O what have you done :O

and you're like

idk

and hes just like heart eyes

bc i LIVE for hangman being whipped and all nervous around his crushy wushy

MY LOVE MY LIGHT MY SAVING GRACE THANK YOU FOR THIS

--

Reassignment is a struggle. It's temporary, or, it's meant to be, but if things go well with your new team, you may be a permanent fixture. So you're a little nervous stepping onto the tarmac, all things considered.

You'd only managed to meet one person from your new squadron so far, a good-natured, kind man named Jake. He had seen you wandering along the hallway, directing you to Admiral Simpson's office when you'd explained your predicament. You don't spot him on the tarmac now, but you're not sure how many people are on the team.

There's a dark-haired woman that you can see, and she notices you, too. You aren't sure whether they've been shown pictures of you, but your last name is patched into your uniform and the helmet under your arm is branded with your callsign. A flash of recognition shows in her eyes, and she starts towards you.

"You're Y/N Y/L/N?" She quirks a brow, and you nod, smiling kindly.

"Nice to meet you," She grins, a brilliant expression on her pretty face, "I'm Natasha. Callsign Phoenix."

"Phoenix," You gush, "I like that. I'm supposed to join you for a hop today?"

"Yeah, we heard about that!" A man steps up beside you, cocky smirk on his face as he holds out a hand, "I'm Coyote. You're supposed to fly with Hangman, right?"

It wasn't ideal, being stuck in someone's backseat. You're used to flying, but this squadron wasn't in need of a new pilot, and you've been trained for both seats.

"Oh god," A man beside you groans, mustache a burnt red, "That's unfortunate. I'm, uh, Rooster. By the way."

You cock your head to the side, shaking his hand, "Rooster. What's wrong with that?"

"He's... difficult." A shorter man pipes up from your left, sticking his hand out, "Fanboy. He's just arrogant, that's all. He thinks he's the best, so it's hard to work with him if he feels like you're working against him. Hopefully he doesn't give you too much of a hard time."

Your heart sinks a little at the prospect of being paired with someone who didn't take kindly to partnership. You're resilient, sure, but there's only so much you can tolerate.

"Don't look now," Phoenix mumbles, leaning in close so no one can hear, "But he's coming out now. Just stand your ground, we can handle him if it gets too much."

You nod near-imperceptibly, waiting until you can hear the thunk of his boots on the asphalt before you spare him a glance. To your delight, the sweet, smiling face of Jake greets you, his cheeks already dusted a rosy hue.

"Y/N," He greets, southern drawl as sweet as sugar, "You're part of my squadron?"

"Your squadron," Rooster scoffs disapprovingly.

""You two know each other?" A tall man inquires, dark skin and pretty eyes, "I thought this was your first time here, Y/N."

"It is," You nod, exchanging a friendly smile with the man and glancing down at his name tag: Fitch, "But I ran into Jake yesterday in the hallway. He helped me to Admiral Simpson's office."

"Oh he did?" Fitch cocks his head to the side, a shit-eating grin thrown at Hangman, "Oh, that's so nice of you, Jake."

"I'm so glad you think that, Payback," Jake sneers, grin more menacing than any glare could be, "Now if you'll excuse us, Y/N and I should get comfortable with our new ride."

Jake crosses the rest of the tarmac until he's beside you, his hand coming to press against the small of your back just as it had yesterday. He's developing a habit of leading you around, and you reach his plane shortly, both of your names stamped on the side.

"I've never flown two-seater before," Jake admits, brushing a hand over his printed callsign, "This'll be interesting."

"Oh, why now?" You frown, fitting your helmet over your head, "What changed?"

"Uh," Hangman's eyes widen, and you think you've asked the wrong question. He answers, though, it's just sheepish.

"Admiral Simpson thinks it would be best if I had someone else with me in the air," He starts, choosing his words carefully, "Because he has observed some, uh- daring maneuvers from me. And he thinks that I might benefit from having someone else's safety to consider."

"You're too reckless," You realize, and you can't help but giggle, "So I'm your babysitter?"

"Let's not call it that!" Jake laughs, blush intensified, "Let's call it partners. Deal?"

"Deal," You grin, eyes twinkling similar to his own, "Partners."

"What the fuck?" Fanboy spits, watching from afar as Jake helps you into the jet, letting you grab his hand and brace your weight on his arm, "Did he get possessed, or something?"

"She hasn't slapped him yet," Rooster ponders, "He must be keeping himself in check."

"Is that Y/N?" Natasha turns where she hears Bob's voice nearing behind her, nodding with a growing smirk on her face.

"Yeah, that's her. And that's Hangman."

She points to Jake, who's leaning into your seat, concern evident on his face as he helps you adjust the position of your harness.

Bob's face falls, scrunching into a frown, "He's... helping her?"

"This is gonna get interesting, boys," Phoenix grins, eyes narrowed at Jake who's still grinning sweetly at you, "Hangman's got a crush."

[vervainandspritz]

TASTE OF SHAME

Thomas Shelby x Reader

Part three

Warnings: Dark!Thomas Shelby, manipulation, abuse, non-con/dub-con, gaslighting, violence

A/N: Sorry it took so long. I'm absolutely the worst. Another part coming in shortly

A/N2: COMMENT AND REBLOG PLEASE!

Y/N woke up feeling different than usual. The deep sense of looking forward to something was exciting. Was.. new. Y/N knew it was perhaps one of Tommy's games and not a gesture of kindness in any way, but the idea of going shopping with Ada was nevertheless exciting.

She woke up early, got appropriately dressed, and secretly hoped she wouldn't see him this day at all. It was supposed to be about her. Just today.

Only a bit before eight she went downstairs, slowly looking around to find out whether Mr. Shelby was still home or not. The Arrow house was awfully quiet, like always when Charlie was still sleeping. He wasn't a loud child, but his precious giggles were warming up the overall cold and soulless building enough to breathe some life into it. He was making it sufferable to live in.

Y/N was quiet, mindful not to wake him up as she smiled at the staff, nodding kindly while passing by. Hearing voices from the living room, she made her way through the doorways only to see Ada along with her husband, Freddie.

”Good morning, Y/N” The older woman said with a smile as soon as she saw her. The questioning glance followed after the greeting which made her chuckle. Before she could say something, her man spoke up himself.

”He would never let the two of you go on your own. It was either me or John and Arthur, so trust me, Lady. It's a better choice as it is!” Freddie spoke with an amusing drama and thick Brummy accent, making his wife swat him in the shoulder jokingly.

”He's not wrong” She admitted, sighing, and glancing sideways at her husband.

Y/N nodded lightly, smiling at the genuine contact between the two of them. It was refreshing and.. comforting, to see a glimpse of real love in the hollow walls of the Arrow House.

”It's okay. I don't mind at all” She reassured, gratefully. Her cheeks were rosy with excitement. ”I really appreciate the two of you taking me to the city. It's been... A while.”

Ada winked at Y/N before coming up closer and grasping her hands.

”Lovely then. I'd never say no to shopping with one of the ladies! It's the best time. Especially that we have a set of hands to carry our bags, indeed!”

They chuckled lightheartedly, walking to the corridor to put on their jackets along with the rest of proper clothing. Luckily, the day was nice enough to not need an umbrella.

”Let's get to it then” Y/N said as Freddie opened the door, gesturing for them to go first. Leaving the building, Y/N managed to spare one last glance towards the black, wooden door barely visible from the doorway. Mr. Shelby's office.

~~

The day was going well. Genuinely, for the first time in a long time she could honestly say it. Laughing out the tension which has been slowly gathering on her mind felt wonderful and the company of Ada and Freddie just reminded her how much she missed the careless giggles and fast heartbeat she used to feel back then.

Back when she wasn't someone's belonging. A selfish whim.

Buying all the gear was fun, trying it on and posing even more. Especially once they were done, and Ada suggested buying more clothes.

”We shouldn't,” Y/N said quietly, grabbing Ada's forearm lightly. The older woman rolled her eyes, narrowing them.

”Come on, Y/N. We're spending his money. The least he can do is pay for us!” She let out a laugh which held the mischievous hint, one she shared with all of their brothers. No matter how similar or different Shelby siblings were, they all had it.

She thought for a moment, feeling the unpleasant worry again. Her feelings were raw and visible in her eyes, fully on display as always.

”I don't know,” She said, quietly, stopping in her tracks. Ada picked up on the way her voice broke just a little bit. Moving closer she grasped her shoulders.

”I mean it. Plus, he literally GAVE me money to pay for our stuff.” She was convinced. ”Tommy is my brother, Y/N. He knows me well enough to know better than assuming I'd buy just the necessities.” Y/N shifted uncomfortably, searching in her gaze for the truthfulness to sooth her own anxiety. Looking in Ada's blood irises, she found it. But she wasn't sure just yet. ”...and Thomas loves everything about horses ever since he was a little boy. He's well aware of how much the gear would cost, honey. Yet he gave us way more.” This time her voice carried less humour, wanting to give her the comfort she needed along with reassurance.

Finally, Y/N nodded slowly, looking around and noticing that Freddie gave them some space to talk, stepping aside to smoke a cigarette yet paying attention enough to keep them safe.

Her gaze danced along the shops with bright and bold letters above the entrances, designed to encourage wealthy women to come in and spend their money. Eventually she met her friend's blue eyes again.

”Okay” She agreed, letting out a chuckle as Ada clapped happily before grabbing her hand and pulling them towards the luxury shop.

”Here we come!” She squealed and Freddie just shook his head with amusement, following them closely.

It took about half an hour to get her going. At first it was the Shelby sister who twirled between the alleys in the fairly big shop, touching and gasping over the beautiful creations. All kinds of materials, hundreds of breathtaking colours with even more breathtaking cash tags attached to them made Y/N feel uneasy, but with time... Ada's enthusiasm infected her too.

So they both giggled like young girls, trying dresses on, making funny gestures and blushing furiously as they saw themselves in the big mirror.  So unused to such a luxury, Y/N's eyes shone brightly when she saw the girl in her own reflection. So different from the one she used to see a couple long months ago.

”We're absolutely getting this one,” Ada said suddenly, ripping her out of the train of thoughts. Slowly gazing over the creation, Y/N let out a sigh, picking on the cuticles of her fingers. Looking down she swayed lightly, biting her lower lip, but before she managed to speak up, Freddie joined his wife.

”I must agree,” He said, keeping his expression serious before Ada elbowed him in the side lightly. ”You look like a real high class lady now,” He added, less formally with a small smirk, grasping Ada's hand.

Y/N blushed, so unused to any kind of male attention.

”Thank you. I hope he won't be mad.” The other part of the sentence was said quieter, almost to herself, but unfortunately all of them heard.

Plastering a fake smile onto her lips, she went back to change before they checked out, and got on the way as it was already fairly late. Clouds thinned one the sky, letting everyone see the glimpses of sunset kissing the horizon in a manner so dreamy, Y/N couldn’t help the little smile on her lips as she watched the whole scene through the window. Shopping took a bit longer than expected, as Ada planned out the whole day, making them visit all the ladies' favourites in the city centre. After coffee and sweet souvenirs from the local bakery, they took a walk around the better part of Birmingham before heading back. Around fifteen minutes it took, before Freddie was parking the car on the gravelly driveway. Sighing, Y/N looked down at her hands, knowing the great day was pretty much over now that she was here. Slowly, she moved to get out of the car, grabbing a few of the bags as Ada and her husband did the same. 

The Shelby sister noticed the shift in the air as she moved closer to Y/N rubbing her shoulder with a half smile.

“It was a wonderful day, wasn’t it? We need to do it again soon.” She said, before dramatically lowering her tone. “Next time definitely just us, without any of them,” She gestured towards Freddie with a chuckle, taking the edge off a bit as the tension loosened.

Y/N nodded, agreeing immediately as she loved the idea of having a way out every now and then. Wordlessly they walked up the stairs, greeting one of the maids after making the entrance. She took Y/N’s coat, hanging it for her once she realized Mr. and Mrs. Thorne weren’t staying. 

“Once again, thank you for the outing. I’m looking forward to the next time,” The younger woman said with a genuine honesty in her voice, revealing how much it actually meant to her.

“Anytime,” Freddie responded, winking as he grasped Ada’s hand once she hugged Y/N.

“Of course.” She added, turning around as they started walking away before stopping once again, “Oh, and tell Tommy you’re home already, will you?” And with that, they were gone. 

Y/N considered seeking out Tommy right then, but she was tired from the outing and wanted to change into a more comfortable dress to lounge at home. Once in her room, she was increasingly tempted by her soft inviting bed. As soon as she settled in her soft sheets all her new things still in the shopping bags became distant memories, just like the thought of making her way to Mr. Shelby’s office. Exhaustion overtook her tired mind and before she knew it, she fell asleep. 

Hours passed, and on the other side of the house, Thomas was sitting by his desk. A half empty glass of whiskey stood to his left, as he slowly sipped on it with no rush. He lost count of all the paperwork he’d done today and the end was still nowhere to be seen. Taking off his glasses, he rubbed his eyes which became tired from all the reading and writing. 

Suddenly the silence of the room got interrupted by quiet footsteps right by the door. Tommy glanced at the clock, realizing how late it already was. Without knocking the door knob turned as the wooden door gave way to a familiar silhouette. 

Y/N rubbed her eyes, as she walked in. Her feet bare against the cold floor which wasn’t too pleasant, yet useful in a way to keep her awake. 

He watched wordlessly, after putting his glasses back on. As she slowly moved from the doorway towards his desk, eventually slumping into the armchair. She avoided his eyes, feeling guilty with the unintentional disobedience.

So the silence stretched into longer seconds as she picked on the hem of her dress. 

“Had fun?” His voice cut the air eventually, seeing how she struggled with finding anything to say. It was hoarse from the lack of talking for many hours, even lower than usual which she found intimidating.

But on the other hand, was there anything about him which wasn’t intimidating to her? The answer was obvious.

“I’m sorry I didn't come right away. We were late, and.. And I was tired. Before I realized it, I was sleeping.” She said quieter, feeling as she was walking on thin ice that might break at any given moment, pulling her into the freezing, cold water. The stillness that never ceased to surround him was terrifying at times. To her, Thomas Shelby was a complete mystery. His way of carrying himself reminded her of a volcano, so still and quiet just to blow up with a never ending stream of force. So the silence was… chaos really. “I’m sorry, Mr. Shelby”

Her voice, so quiet and submissive, danced around his mind. Mixing with the whiskey he drank, twisting and moving in different directions and causing the weird stirring he felt. Something that started becoming familiar, dangerously enough. His lips stretched into a small grimace, not quite enough to become a proper smile. Another thing that made him, him. All the small things she learned to become aware of, cautious and deliberate while slowly walking between the mines in his head. The boundaries that were constantly in motion for any kind of comfort, making it impossible to learn their placement. So she walked through the dark.

“I asked if you had fun, Dove,” 

His voice came out soft, at least softer than expected which almost made her gasp in a way. Her eyes flickered up, meeting his cold gaze. His eyes never seemed to lose the ice, but every now and then the blizzard seemed more gentle. She looked at him for a moment, her eyes wide, moving around his features.

“Yes, it was a.. A great day.”

He leaned forward, moving a bit closer with a sigh. 

“It makes me sad that you don’t listen, Dove.” He started off, making her feel bad. “But I'm willing to forgive you, yeah? You didn’t mean to be bad after all.” His voice was soothing, smooth like butter, to which she nodded eagerly, also leaning forward, subconsciously wanting to please him.

“Yes, I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry,”

The corner of his mouth twitched again.

“I know you are,” He sighed, letting his gaze drop onto her body. Slowly moving lower till the desk blocked his view on the rest. “You will start coming to my office again. Spending time with Mr. Shelby,” The words would suggest it was a suggestion, but his voice absolutely proved to her it wasn’t one. He told her what would be happening from now on, and she had to listen. Y/N remained quiet for a bit before clearing her throat.

“Okay” She mumbled in her typical manner. His gaze was making her feel almost naked despite the appropriate clothing she wore. Instinctively she covered herself a bit more, almost making him groan.

The little things she was doing. The pink blush dusting her cheeks as she squeezed her thighs together, along with the innocent body language caused the familiar stirring in his core again. Thomas sighed, feeling as his manhood grew in his briefs and skin became hot. Breathing a little deeper, he leaned back. 

Tension in the room thickened as the shame coated her mind at the way he looked at her. 

Getting up abruptly, she moved behind the armchair.

“I will.. Go to sleep. I’ll come to your office tomorrow, I promise.” Y/N stuttered out as she started walking back towards the door. Thomas tilted his head up, watching as her hips swayed as she walked. Letting out a deep breath he nodded, tutting.

“Y/N” He stopped her in a raspy voice, but she didn’t turn around to meet his gaze. “Don’t forget to take your bags from the living room,” Thomas added, picking up the still lit cigarette, as he threw it into the fireplace. She just nodded, twisting the doorknob as she left.

Thomas stared at the dark wood of the door, as his fingers wrapped around the soft material in his pocket. Soft, pink lace.

He could say a lot about Y/N, but he had to admit she had a good taste in the lingerie she bought. 

@mrsnms @randomcreator-09 @omgsuperstarg @hatethis29 @usaguisenpaisblog @priyajoyy @vanessyyyu @hottestgirlintheworld @iilovedonnatartt @hagarsays

[novaursa]

The Dragon's Right (6)

- Summary: It was by grace of the gods that firstborn child of Viserys I and Aemma was born a boy and he lived. And all of the rest, scholars will later say, is by power of something more malevolent in kind.

- Pairing: male!reader/Rhaenyra Targaryen

- Note: For all the parts of this story, visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top.

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Word count: 7 000+

- Previous part: 5

- Next part: 7

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

The hour was late, the Red Keep quiet as the court had retired for the night. You sat awake in your chambers, the faint light of a candle flickering beside you. The endless routine of court life had left you restless, your mind too heavy with thoughts to find sleep. You had become accustomed to the dull rhythm of politics and responsibility since your return to King’s Landing, but the weight of it all still gnawed at you.

You ran a hand through your hair, trying to shake the weariness that had settled deep in your bones. Just as you considered whether to rise and take another walk around the room, the door to your chambers creaked open without warning or announcement.

Expecting your uncle Daemon, as was often the case, you sighed inwardly, preparing yourself for another round of complaints about Otto Hightower’s growing influence or another suggestion to join him in the lower city for some ill-advised adventure. But when you turned, you were surprised to see Rhaenyra standing in the doorway instead.

Her presence filled the room instantly, her usual quiet grace now tinged with something more urgent. Her violet eyes met yours, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. There was something in her gaze that was both familiar and unsettling, a mixture of affection and determination.

"I needed to see you once more today," she said softly, closing the door behind her as she stepped into the room.

You frowned slightly, worried by the intensity in her voice. "Rhaenyra, it’s late. If someone sees you—"

She shook her head, cutting you off as she approached. "I don’t care," she replied, her voice firm. "I spoke with Alicent."

At the mention of her friend, your frown deepened. "What did you say to her?"

"I told her to stay away from you," Rhaenyra said bluntly, her tone laced with a mixture of frustration and jealousy.You sighed, running a hand through your hair again. "Rhaenyra… you and Alicent are close. You shouldn’t—"

"I know," she interrupted, a flicker of regret crossing her face. "But I couldn’t stand it anymore. The way she tries to get close to you, the way she looks at you... It drives me mad."

Her confession hit you like a blow, and you could see the turmoil in her eyes, the battle between her loyalty to her friend and the possessive jealousy she couldn’t suppress. You stood, taking a step toward her, unsure of how to navigate the storm of emotions that now swirled between you.

"Rhaenyra," you began carefully, "I don’t want you getting into trouble because of this. Whatever the situation is between us, it doesn’t need to affect your friendship with Alicent."

She crossed the distance between you, her eyes never leaving yours. "I thought about it all day," she whispered, her voice softer now. "About what we talked about earlier. About us."

Your breath caught in your throat as she stepped closer, her presence overwhelming your senses. "I thought about it too," you admitted, your voice low. "But we have to be careful."

"Do we?" Rhaenyra asked, her tone challenging. "We’re Targaryens. It’s in our blood. Why should we deny what we feel?"

Before you could answer, she closed the final gap between you and, without hesitation, climbed into your lap. Her fingers brushed lightly against your neck as she leaned in, her lips finding yours with a fierce determination that sent a shiver through your entire body.

The kiss was soft at first, tentative, but quickly deepened as you gave in to the emotions you had been trying to suppress. Your hands instinctively moved to her hips, holding her in place as she pressed herself against you. The warmth of her body, the scent of her hair, the feel of her lips—it was intoxicating, and before you knew it, you were trailing your hands up her back, pulling her closer still.

Her lips parted under yours, and the kiss became something more—more urgent, more desperate, as if the floodgates you had feared had finally broken open. Every touch, every movement was an exploration of the complex feelings that had been building between you both for so long. You could feel her fingers tangling in your hair, her breath quickening as the kiss deepened further.

The world outside disappeared as you lost yourself in her—your sister, your blood, your equal. The lines between love, desire, and duty blurred until they were indistinguishable, leaving only the two of you, caught in a moment that felt inevitable.

Eventually, you both pulled back, breathless, your foreheads resting against one another as you caught your breath. Rhaenyra’s fingers traced along your jaw, her touch gentle yet possessive. There was a softness in her eyes now, an affection that spoke of something deeper than mere attraction.

"How can we stop this?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to steady your thoughts, but when you opened them again, all you could see was her—Rhaenyra, your sister, your equal, the one person who understood you in ways no one else ever could. You reached up, brushing a strand of her silver hair behind her ear, your thumb grazing her cheek.

"I don’t know if we can," you admitted softly, your voice filled with the weight of your confession. "But we have to be careful. Father would never allow it. The court, the Faith… they would try to tear us apart."

Rhaenyra’s eyes darkened with defiance as she leaned in closer, her lips brushing against your ear. "Then let them try."

The fire in her words ignited something in you, something that had been smoldering for so long but now burned brightly. You kissed her again, softer this time, more deliberate, as if savoring every moment.

When you pulled away, you smiled down at her, your fingers tracing along her arm. "You’re dangerous, Rhaenyra."

A smirk tugged at the corners of her lips as she met your gaze, her eyes gleaming with a mixture of mischief and affection. "I learned from the best."

You chuckled softly, shaking your head. "We need to be smart about this."

"I know," she whispered, her tone more serious now. "But I can’t help what I feel. And neither can you."

You held her gaze, the weight of the truth settling between you. There was no going back now. Whatever lay ahead—whether it was the ire of the court, the disapproval of your father, or the dangers that came with your newfound connection—you both knew that this was a path you had chosen.

The atmosphere in the small council chamber was tense the next morning. King Viserys sat at the head of the table, his brow furrowed in thought as his advisors gathered to discuss the ongoing matters of the realm. Corlys Velaryon, ever the advocate for action in the Stepstones, was the first to speak, his deep voice cutting through the quiet murmurs of the room.

“The situation in the Stepstones cannot be ignored any longer, Your Grace,” Corlys began, leaning forward in his seat. “The Free Cities are growing bolder by the day, and their pirates choke the trade routes we depend on. If we do not act soon, it will become more than a mere annoyance—it will be a full-scale war, one we are not prepared for.”

Viserys sighed heavily, his eyes weary. This had been a topic of constant debate for months now, and the pressures of dealing with the Stepstones weighed heavily on his shoulders. “I understand your concerns, Lord Corlys,” Viserys said, his voice tired but steady. “But sending men and ships to the Stepstones will require resources we cannot easily spare. And with the situation at home—”

“We cannot afford not to act,” Corlys interjected, his tone more urgent now. “The crown’s strength is being tested on multiple fronts. If we do nothing, we will be seen as weak, and those who oppose us will seize that opportunity.”

Viserys leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples as the weight of the council’s concerns pressed down on him. He knew Corlys was right in many ways, but the thought of yet another conflict on the horizon was one he dreaded. Before he could respond, Tayland Lannister spoke up hesitantly, his voice carrying a note of caution.

“Your Grace… there’s another matter that requires your attention,” Tayland began, glancing nervously around the table before continuing. “Dorne… it seems there have been reports along the borders again. They’ve been unusually quiet since Prince Y/N returned to the capital with his dragon, but now there are whispers of movement once more. It’s… concerning.”

Viserys’s expression darkened as he turned to Tayland, the mention of Dorne stirring up memories of the years-long skirmishes his son had just returned from. “Are you suggesting,” Viserys said slowly, his voice tight with barely restrained frustration, “that my only son should be sent back to wage another campaign against Dorne? After everything he has already sacrificed?”

The room fell into an uneasy silence. Tayland shifted uncomfortably in his seat, clearly regretting his words. “No, Your Grace, I… I only meant to say that the situation is escalating again. But I agree, it would be unwise to send Prince Y/N back into that… turmoil so soon after his return.”

Viserys’s hands tightened on the arms of his chair, his frustration evident. “He has just returned to us, to his family. I will not send him back to fight a war that may never truly end. There must be another solution.”

Lord Lyonel Strong, always the voice of reason, spoke up after a brief pause. “Your Grace, I understand your desire to protect your son, as do we all. But we must acknowledge the importance of securing our borders. Dorne is unpredictable, and if they sense weakness, they will strike. However, sending the prince to face them again is not a long-term solution. We cannot afford to jeopardize the king’s only male heir every time a threat arises.”

Lyonel’s words hung heavy in the air, and the other council members nodded in agreement. The stakes were high, and while Y/N had proven himself a capable warrior, his constant involvement in these dangerous conflicts was not sustainable for the future of the realm.

Grand Maester Mellos, who had been quietly observing the conversation, cleared his throat and added his voice to the discussion. “Lord Lyonel speaks wisely. Prince Y/N has more than proven his worth on the battlefield, but his place is here, at court, preparing to take on the responsibilities of the crown. We cannot risk his life in prolonged skirmishes. It is the duty of the crown to ensure stability for the future.”

Viserys exhaled slowly, nodding as he absorbed the council’s words. “You’re right, all of you. My son has done more than enough for the realm, and I will not send him to fight these endless battles again. We must find a way to secure our borders without sacrificing my heir.”

Corlys, though still eager for action, seemed to understand the king’s concern. He leaned back slightly, his tone more measured now. “If we do not wish to send Prince Y/N back into the fray, then we must consider strengthening our defenses along the Dornish border. More men, perhaps. More fortifications. A show of force to deter any further incursions.”

Lyonel nodded in agreement. “A strong presence on the border may be enough to keep Dorne in check, at least for the time being. It would send a message without committing the prince to another campaign.”

Viserys seemed to take comfort in that suggestion, though the weight of his decisions still sat heavily on his shoulders. “Very well,” he said quietly. “Begin preparations to reinforce our forces along the border. We will not provoke Dorne, but we will not be caught unprepared.”

The council members murmured their agreement, and the conversation turned to the practicalities of mobilizing the necessary men and resources. But as the discussion continued, Viserys’s mind remained elsewhere—on his son, on the future of the realm, and on the difficult choices that lay ahead.

After the meeting adjourned and the council members began to filter out of the room, Viserys sat in silence for a long moment, his thoughts troubled. The kingdom was constantly in a state of unrest, with threats both near and far, and though he longed for peace, it seemed ever elusive.

The days in the capital had begun to stretch into a monotonous blur of courtly duties and council meetings. You found yourself restless, confined by the expectations of your role as the king's heir. The small council had agreed to a strategy to secure the borders of Dorne and strengthen the Stepstones, but to your growing frustration, it was Daemon, not you, who was being sent to deliver the message and oversee its execution alongside Lord Corlys Velaryon, the Sea Snake.

You had spent years on the battlefield, earning your place as a warrior and a leader, and now, to be told that you were needed in the capital rather than on the front lines gnawed at you. Duty was one thing, but to be sidelined while others carried out the work you were more than capable of handling left you feeling as though you were trapped in a gilded cage.

It was on one of those restless days that you found yourself walking through the Dragonpit, the familiar scent of dragon leather and smoke filling the air. Your feet carried you forward instinctively, until you rounded the corner and saw your uncle, Daemon, preparing for his departure. Caraxes, his blood-red dragon, loomed behind him, stretching his wings as if eager to take flight.

Daemon, as always, looked at ease, his armor gleaming under the dim light of the pit. He was speaking with a handful of his men, issuing last-minute orders before mounting his dragon. His casual confidence only seemed to stoke the fire of your frustration further.

“Off to war again, are you, Uncle?” you called, your tone sharper than you intended as you approached.

Daemon turned, a knowing smirk already forming on his lips when he saw you. “Aye, someone has to keep things interesting while you play the dutiful prince in King’s Landing,” he said, his voice laced with that familiar mix of teasing and challenge.

You frowned, coming to a stop in front of him. “I should be going with you,” you said bluntly, your hands flexing at your sides. “This strategy was mine as much as anyone's. Yet here I am, stuck in the capital while you fly off to handle things.”

Daemon raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by your frustration. “Don’t tell me you’re starting to enjoy the council meetings, nephew. Perhaps court life is growing on you after all.”

You shot him a glare, but Daemon only laughed, clearly enjoying your irritation. “It’s not a matter of enjoying it. I’ve fought in Dorne, I know the terrain, the people. I should be there with you.”

Daemon’s smirk faded slightly as he regarded you more seriously. “You’ve already done your duty in Dorne, Y/N. The realm can’t afford to lose its heir over another skirmish. That’s why Viserys wants you here. Someone has to keep the peace while I make sure the Stepstones don’t fall into chaos.”

You clenched your jaw, unwilling to let the matter rest. “I’m not made for sitting idly by, Daemon. I should be out there, doing what I do best.”

Daemon’s expression shifted, and for a moment, there was a flicker of something close to understanding in his eyes. He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Believe me, I know how it feels to be sidelined, to be told that you’re too valuable to risk. But you have something bigger to worry about. You’re the heir to the Iron Throne. If you fall, if something happens to you, Viserys loses everything.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but Daemon cut you off with a knowing look. “I’ve fought in more wars than I care to count, and I’ve seen men die for less. But this—what you and I are dealing with now—this is about the long game. You’ll get your chance to fight again, trust me. But for now, the capital needs you. Viserys needs you.”

You sighed, the weight of his words sinking in. As much as you hated to admit it, Daemon was right. Your place, as frustrating as it was, was here in King’s Landing, keeping the peace and preparing for the future. The realm needed stability, and as much as you longed to be out in the field, your father had made it clear that your role as heir took precedence.

Daemon clapped a hand on your shoulder, his usual cocky grin returning. “Besides, someone has to keep an eye on Otto while I’m gone. Can’t trust him to keep his hands clean without us watching.”

You smirked despite yourself, shaking your head. “You’d rather see me fight in council chambers than on the battlefield?”

“If you can survive a meeting with Hightower without strangling him, I’d say you’ve already won a battle,” Daemon quipped. He moved past you toward Caraxes, his dragon shifting eagerly as his rider approached.

As Daemon mounted the blood-red dragon, he cast one last glance over his shoulder. “Don’t worry, nephew. I’ll make sure the Stepstones stay under control. You just keep things from falling apart here.”

With that, Daemon urged Caraxes into the air, the dragon’s powerful wings beating against the wind as they lifted into the sky. You watched them go, the weight of your frustration still heavy in your chest, though tempered by the reminder of your responsibility. You knew Daemon was right, but the desire to join him still burned in your veins.

As Caraxes disappeared into the clouds, you turned away, your mind already shifting back to the politics of the capital. There was no escaping the duties that awaited you, no matter how much you longed for the freedom of the battlefield. For now, the capital would be your battleground, and courtly intrigue your sword.

You could only hope it was enough to keep you sane until you could fly into battle again.

The afternoon sun bathed the gardens of the Red Keep in a soft, golden glow. The air was warm, and a gentle breeze rustled through the leaves of the trees, bringing with it the faint scent of roses and lavender. Rhaenyra sat on a cushioned bench beneath one of the larger trees, surrounded by her handmaidens, who were engaged in quiet conversation. Beside her, Alicent sat with her usual poise, though the tension between them was palpable despite the pleasant setting.

Since their argument a few days ago, the two friends had yet to fully resolve the unspoken rift between them. They had, for now, put their differences aside, but there was an underlying awkwardness that neither seemed eager to address directly. Rhaenyra, for her part, felt torn between her loyalty to Alicent and the possessive protectiveness she now felt toward her brother. Every time she looked at Alicent, she could feel the jealousy simmering beneath the surface, though she did her best to hide it.

Still, today, Rhaenyra felt lighter, happier. It had been a few days since her last encounter with her brother, and the memory of their shared kiss, their stolen moments of intimacy, filled her with a warmth she hadn’t felt in a long time. She had missed him terribly in the years he had spent in Dorne, but now that he was back, she felt whole again—more than whole, even. There was a secret between them now, something precious and exhilarating that only they shared. It was a feeling that made her heart race and her thoughts drift to places she dared not speak aloud.

Alicent, always attuned to her friend’s moods, noticed the change in Rhaenyra almost immediately. She had observed over the past few days how Rhaenyra seemed… different. There was a lightness in her demeanor, a quiet joy that hadn’t been there before. Despite their recent argument, Alicent couldn’t help but feel a mix of curiosity and concern.

“You seem happier these days, Rhaenyra,” Alicent remarked, her tone casual, though her eyes searched Rhaenyra’s face for any hint of what might have caused this change. “More at ease than you were a week ago.”

Rhaenyra glanced at Alicent, her expression neutral for a moment before a small smile tugged at her lips. “I suppose I am,” she admitted, leaning back against the bench, her fingers absentmindedly playing with the hem of her gown. “It’s good to have my brother home again. I had forgotten how much I missed him.”

Alicent smiled, though there was a flicker of something behind her eyes—something Rhaenyra didn’t miss. “He has been a calming presence for all of us, I think,” Alicent said softly. “The court feels… steadier with him back.”

Rhaenyra nodded, though her mind wandered to thoughts that had little to do with the politics of the court. Her happiness, her newfound sense of ease, had little to do with the stability of King’s Landing and everything to do with the intimate moments she had shared with her brother. The kiss they had stolen, the way his hands had moved over her body, the way they had whispered to each other in the quiet of the night—it filled her with a secret kind of joy that made her pulse quicken just thinking about it.

But she couldn’t tell Alicent that, of course. She couldn’t tell anyone. It was a secret she held close to her heart, something that belonged to her and her brother alone. And yet, as she sat there in the garden, surrounded by her handmaidens and her friend, Rhaenyra felt the weight of that secret pressing down on her, urging her to protect it at all costs.

Alicent’s voice broke through her thoughts. “It’s good to see you like this,” she said, her tone soft, almost wistful. “You’ve always been so strong, Rhaenyra, but… there’s a lightness about you now that I haven’t seen in a long time.”

Rhaenyra glanced at Alicent, her smile widening slightly. “Perhaps it’s because I’m no longer alone,” she replied, though her words held a double meaning that Alicent could not have understood. “It’s been… good to have him near. To be reminded of how much he means to me.”

Alicent nodded, though Rhaenyra could sense the unspoken tension between them. The argument they had about her brother still lingered in the background, and while they had put it aside for now, Rhaenyra knew that it had changed something between them. Alicent had always been loyal, always supportive, but there was no denying that her interest in [Your Name] had stoked Rhaenyra’s possessiveness.

“I spoke to my father recently,” Alicent said after a moment, her tone more subdued now. “He mentioned how important it is for your brother to find a suitable match. I imagine the court will soon begin pressuring him.”

Rhaenyra’s smile faltered slightly at that, her heart tightening at the thought of her brother being married off to some noble lady for the sake of alliances. She knew his duty as heir, just as she knew her own, but the idea of sharing him with anyone else made her blood run cold.

“I’m sure the court has its plans,” Rhaenyra replied carefully, her tone measured. “But my brother has never been one to let others decide his fate for him.”

Alicent glanced at Rhaenyra, a knowing look in her eyes. “Perhaps not. But you know as well as I do that duty often outweighs personal desires in our world. Your brother will have to marry eventually.”

Rhaenyra clenched her jaw slightly, trying to keep her voice calm. “Perhaps. But that doesn’t mean he will let them choose for him.”

A silence fell between them, the tension from their previous argument rearing its head once more. Alicent, ever observant, seemed to sense the shift in Rhaenyra’s mood and quickly changed the subject, offering a soft smile. “Regardless, it’s good to see you happy, Rhaenyra. You deserve it.”

Rhaenyra returned the smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. Internally, she was still reeling from the conversation, her mind racing with thoughts of her brother and the future that seemed so uncertain. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing him, not after everything they had shared. And though she knew the court would try to force his hand, she was determined to protect what they had.

As the afternoon wore on and the sun began to dip lower in the sky, the handmaidens began to gather their things, preparing to leave the gardens. Rhaenyra stood, her mind still swirling with the weight of her secret and the unspoken tension between her and Alicent. She couldn’t shake the feeling that her brother’s return had changed everything—not just for her, but for the future of the realm.

The darkness surrounded you, thick and suffocating. You knew you were dreaming, yet the world felt all too real, pulling you back to the brutal, violent past you had tried so hard to leave behind. The scent of blood and smoke filled your nostrils, the familiar roar of battle echoing in your ears.

You were back on the Dornish border, where the sun beat down mercilessly on the rocky landscape, turning the sand beneath your feet into a blinding sea of heat. But the heat wasn’t what bothered you. It was the blood, the endless blood that stained the ground, your armor, your hands.

Before you, Silverwing loomed, her massive form casting a shadow over the battlefield. Her scales glimmered in the sunlight, a majestic and terrifying sight as she snarled, her jaws open wide, ready to unleash hell upon your enemies.

The clash of swords, the cries of dying men, and the acrid scent of burning flesh assaulted your senses as you gripped the reins, your heart pounding in your chest. You had been here before, so many times. Leading men into battle, commanding them, killing for the crown. But this time, it felt different. More vivid. More terrifying.

Dornish soldiers surged forward, their spears glinting in the sun, their faces twisted with rage and desperation. You shouted orders to your men, your voice hoarse from the strain of command, but your words seemed to be lost in the chaos around you. The Dornish were relentless, their numbers overwhelming, and despite the strength of your forces, you could feel the tide turning.

With a roar, Silverwing reared up, her wings beating against the air with enough force to send men stumbling backward. You felt the bond between you and your dragon pulse through your veins as you urged her forward. With a deafening screech, Silverwing descended upon the enemy, her massive jaws snapping shut around a group of Dornish soldiers.

Blood sprayed across the battlefield as Silverwing bit down, her powerful teeth tearing through armor, flesh, and bone with sickening ease. The sound of the men’s screams was lost beneath the thunderous roar of the dragonfire that erupted from her mouth, incinerating everything in its path. Soldiers who had been advancing toward you moments before were now nothing more than charred corpses, their bodies reduced to ash.

You watched, horrified, as Silverwing tore into another group of soldiers, her claws ripping them apart with savage efficiency. Blood splattered across the sand, pooling in thick, dark puddles that soaked into the earth. Limbs were torn from bodies, men reduced to nothing more than broken pieces of flesh and bone, and still, the Dornish kept coming.

The heat of the dragonfire was unbearable, searing your skin even from where you sat atop Silverwing. The stench of burning flesh filled your lungs, choking you, but there was no time to think, no time to feel anything but the cold, brutal instinct to survive. You spurred Silverwing forward, her massive body plowing through the enemy lines, scattering men like leaves in the wind.

But it wasn’t enough. No matter how many men Silverwing killed, no matter how many bodies littered the ground, the Dornish soldiers kept coming, their faces twisted with hatred, their eyes filled with the desire to see you dead. You felt the familiar knot of fear tighten in your chest as the enemy began to close in around you.

Suddenly, one of the Dornish soldiers broke through the chaos, his spear aimed directly at you. You had only a split second to react, but it wasn’t fast enough. The spear pierced your side, the sharp pain exploding through your body as the world spun around you. Blood poured from the wound, hot and sticky against your skin, but you barely had time to register the pain before another soldier was upon you, his sword raised high.

Silverwing roared in fury, her massive jaws snapping shut around the soldier, crushing him with a sickening crunch. Blood sprayed across your face as the man’s body was ripped apart in Silverwing’s teeth, his screams cut short as his skull was crushed like an eggshell.

The battlefield was a nightmare of blood, fire, and death. Everywhere you looked, there were bodies—some charred beyond recognition, others torn apart by dragonfire and claws. The ground was slick with blood, the air thick with the stench of death. You felt the weight of it pressing down on you, suffocating you.

You tried to command Silverwing, to take control of the chaos, but your voice wouldn’t come. The pain from the spear wound throbbed in time with your heartbeat, making it hard to breathe. Your vision blurred, the world around you spinning as you fought to stay conscious. But even through the haze of pain, you could still see the carnage—Silverwing tearing through men like they were nothing more than playthings, their bodies breaking and burning beneath her fury.

You were losing control, and you knew it. The battle was slipping away from you, and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

And then, suddenly, you were falling. The reins slipped from your fingers, your body tipping forward as the ground rushed up to meet you. You hit the sand with a bone-jarring thud, the impact driving the air from your lungs. The world went black for a moment, the sounds of the battlefield fading into nothing.

When you opened your eyes again, the first thing you saw was blood—so much blood, pooling around you, soaking into the sand. Your own blood. You tried to move, to push yourself up, but your body wouldn’t respond. You were trapped, helpless, watching as the battle raged on around you.

Silverwing roared somewhere in the distance, her voice filled with rage and pain. You could feel her, feel her fury, her desperation to protect you. But you were powerless to help her, powerless to stop the nightmare unfolding before your eyes.

The last thing you saw before the darkness claimed you was the sight of Silverwing, her jaws clamped down on another group of Dornish soldiers, their bodies breaking apart like twigs beneath her crushing teeth. The blood sprayed across the battlefield, the screams of the dying filling your ears.

And then, there was nothing.

You woke with a start, your heart pounding in your chest, your body drenched in sweat. The room around you was quiet, the familiar walls of your chambers in the Red Keep reassuring you that you were no longer on the battlefield. But the images of the nightmare lingered—Silverwing’s fury, the blood, the death.

You ran a hand through your hair, trying to shake the feeling of dread that clung to you. It was just a dream, you reminded yourself. Just a dream. But deep down, you knew that it was more than that. It was a memory—a memory of the horrors you had witnessed, the lives you had taken, and the toll it had taken on your soul.

No matter how far you ran from it, the blood and fire of Dorne would always haunt you.

The sun was high in the sky, casting a warm glow over the Red Keep as you walked alongside your father through the expansive gardens of the palace. King Viserys had been spending more time with you in the past months since your return from Dorne, and today was no different. He seemed eager, almost desperate at times, to enjoy moments of quiet between the demands of his reign. 

You had always admired your father’s ability to maintain a sense of peace amidst the political storms that often raged around him. But lately, something had shifted. As the days passed, you found yourself becoming more aware of the subtle signs of wear and tear that the Iron Throne had wrought upon him.

As you walked, you couldn’t help but notice the slight tremble in your father’s hand. It was barely perceptible, but you had spent enough time in his company recently to know that it wasn’t just a passing weakness. Your brows furrowed in concern, and you finally spoke up, your voice quiet but laced with worry.

“Father,” you began, glancing at his hand, “are you feeling well?”

Viserys looked at you, startled by the question at first, but then smiled in that familiar way of his, as if trying to reassure you of something he could no longer be certain of himself. He flexed his hand slightly, noticing your gaze.

“I’m fine, truly,” he said, though his tone was too quick, too eager to dismiss your concerns. “It’s nothing but an old man’s ache. The last cut I suffered from sitting the throne seemed to have gone deeper than usual… into the muscle, I think. It must have caused the tremble.”

You frowned, stopping for a moment to face him fully. “The Iron Throne should not wound the king, Father. I fear it has done more harm than you’re letting on.”

Viserys waved a hand, brushing off your concern. “The throne is sharp and unforgiving, yes, but I’ve sat upon it for years. It’s nothing more than an old man’s ailment. Nothing for you to worry about.”

But you couldn’t let go of the unease that gnawed at you. You had heard the stories, how the throne only cut those who were unworthy, how its jagged edges served as a constant reminder of the heavy price of rule. And now, seeing your father—the once strong, vibrant man who had ruled the realm with a steady hand—reduced to such a state, it made you wonder if the cost of the throne was truly worth it.

You glanced down at your father’s hand again, the faint tremor still there. Silent for a moment, you felt a heaviness settle in your chest as you considered the prospect that one day, the Iron Throne would be yours. It was a thought you had pushed aside for years, choosing instead to focus on your duties as a warrior, a protector of the realm. But now, standing here beside your father, the reality of it felt closer than ever.

“Is it worth it, Father?” you asked quietly, almost to yourself, though the question lingered in the air between you.

Viserys looked at you sharply, his expression softening after a beat as he realized the weight behind your words. He sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly as if burdened by more than just the crown. “Is it worth it…” he repeated softly, his gaze distant as he looked out at the gardens. “The Iron Throne… it is a heavy burden, my son. There is no denying that. But we don’t take the throne because it is easy, or because it is what we wish for ourselves.”

He turned to face you, his eyes tired but full of the wisdom of years spent ruling. “We take the throne because it is our duty. Our legacy. We are Targaryens, and the realm looks to us for leadership, for stability. That is worth more than the cost.”

You remained silent for a moment, pondering his words. The duty of being heir to the throne had always been something you accepted but never truly embraced. You had spent years on the battlefield, finding comfort in the clarity of combat, where there were no endless whispers of court intrigue or delicate balance of politics. But ruling… ruling was something different. It required sacrifice, constant vigilance, and endless compromise. And it required you to sit upon that cursed throne, the one that had already begun to cut into your father’s flesh.

“I understand the duty,” you said after a moment, your voice measured, “but I can’t help but feel that ruling is more than just doing what is expected of us. You’ve always been able to manage the demands of the crown, but I fear I lack your patience. I don’t know if I can find that balance.”

Viserys smiled gently, placing a hand on your shoulder. “You’re more like me than you think, Y/N, though I know you’ve never desired court life. You’ve always been happiest on the battlefield, away from the games of politics. But ruling is its own kind of battle. And, just like on the battlefield, you must find the right strategy.”

You chuckled lightly, though the weight of his words didn’t escape you. “I’ve always preferred the battlefield, where at least I know who my enemies are.”

“That’s the trick,” Viserys said, his smile widening. “In court, they may not hold swords, but the battles are just as dangerous. And the price of losing is far greater.”

You nodded, understanding what he was saying. The thought of navigating the intricacies of the court, of having to make decisions that could affect the entire realm, filled you with a sense of dread. But this was the reality of your position. One day, the crown would pass to you, whether you were ready for it or not.

Viserys seemed to sense your unease and gently changed the subject, steering the conversation away from the future you both knew was inevitable. “Have you been adjusting well since your return? I know the transition from the battlefield to the court isn’t an easy one.”

You sighed, glancing around the garden before looking back at your father. “It’s… an adjustment. I’ve managed, somehow, though it’s been difficult to find my footing. Everything here feels slower, more drawn out. There’s no sense of urgency like there is in battle.”

Viserys nodded thoughtfully. “Court life can feel stifling at times, I’ll admit. It isn’t what you imagined for yourself, I’m sure.”

You gave a small, humorless laugh. “No, it isn’t. But I’ve accepted my place. I know what’s expected of me.”

Viserys squeezed your shoulder gently, his expression softening with affection. “I know, my son. And I also know that this is not the life you would have chosen for yourself. You’ve always been a warrior, someone who thrives in action. But a good king finds balance. He learns to fight the battles that can’t be won with a sword.”

You glanced at your father, seeing the weight of years of rule etched into his face. His words, though meant to reassure you, only served to remind you of the impossible burden that awaited you. You couldn’t help but wonder if you would ever find that balance he spoke of—if you could ever be the ruler your father believed you could be.

As you walked together in the garden, your mind drifted back to the Iron Throne, to the cuts it had already inflicted on your father. The price of rule was steep, and as much as you tried to push the thought aside, you knew that one day, that same burden would fall upon you.

But for now, you would follow your father’s guidance, learn what you could, and prepare for the day when the realm would look to you to sit upon the throne that demanded blood as its price.

The evening was late, and the Red Keep had settled into a quiet stillness, with only the occasional flicker of torchlight and the distant echo of footsteps from the night’s watchmen to break the silence. It was during these hours that you found your way to Rhaenyra’s chambers, as had become your clandestine routine. Your secret meetings, hidden from the prying eyes of the court, were the only times you both could truly be together—free from the weight of duty and expectation.

The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of candles casting long shadows across the walls. You could hear the gentle rustling of the curtains as the evening breeze slipped through the cracks of the window. But none of that mattered. The moment you entered, your attention was solely on her—Rhaenyra, lying in wait on the bed, her eyes bright with the same fire that had been between you since your first kiss.

Without a word, you crossed the room and claimed her lips in a feverish kiss, your hands cradling her face as you pressed her down into the softness of the mattress. The world outside, the pressures of the throne, the burdens you carried as the heir to the realm—all of it disappeared in her presence. Here, in the dark, it was just the two of you, and nothing else mattered.

Your body moved instinctively, pressing closer to hers, the thin layers of clothing between you both doing little to contain the heat of your shared desire. Rhaenyra responded eagerly, her fingers tangling in your hair as she pulled you closer, her breath coming faster with each kiss. You could feel her heart beating in time with your own, the intensity of the moment building as your hands roamed over her body.

She broke the kiss for a moment, her eyes locked onto yours, filled with the same fierce affection and need that mirrored your own. "I missed you," she whispered, her voice soft but filled with the weight of truth.

You smiled, brushing a strand of silver hair from her face. "I’m here now," you whispered back before capturing her lips once more, your kisses growing deeper, more urgent.

As you pressed her further into the bed, her hands moved down, her fingers grazing the waistband of your trousers before slipping inside. The sensation made you groan into the kiss, your body reacting instantly to her touch. She worked with practiced ease, her hand moving slowly as she freed your manhood from the confines of your clothing.

The moment her fingers wrapped around you, the world seemed to narrow to the sensation alone. Your groan deepened, your forehead resting against hers as you allowed yourself to get lost in the moment. The heat between you both was nearly unbearable, the need to be closer, to feel her entirely, overwhelming every other thought in your mind.

"Rhaenyra," you breathed against her lips, your voice hoarse with desire.

She smiled, a soft, knowing smile, and kissed you again, her hand continuing its slow, deliberate work. The pressure built quickly, your body responding to her touch with an intensity you couldn’t control. Her thumb brushed against you in just the right way, and with a final shudder, you felt the release you had been so desperately chasing.

You groaned against her lips, your body trembling as you spilled yourself onto her thigh, the tension that had been building finally giving way to sweet relief. Your breath came in ragged gasps, your forehead still pressed to hers as you tried to regain your composure.

Rhaenyra smiled at you, her expression one of both satisfaction and tenderness. She brought your face back to hers for another kiss, soft and slow, as though savoring the moment. Her fingers trailed through your hair as she pressed closer to you, the warmth of her body a comfort in the quiet aftermath.

You opened your eyes, your heart still racing, and kissed her forehead gently. "It’s my turn," you whispered against her skin, your voice filled with both affection and desire. "To return the favor."

Rhaenyra’s eyes gleamed with anticipation as you began trailing kisses down her jawline, your lips brushing against her neck, lingering there as you felt the pulse of her heartbeat beneath your lips. She sighed softly, her hands gently pulling at your shoulders as you moved lower, your mouth tracing a path along her collarbone, then down her chest.

Your kisses grew slower, more deliberate, as you moved further down her body, your lips brushing against her stomach, feeling the soft curve of her skin beneath your fingertips. Every touch seemed to draw out a deeper sigh from her, her body relaxing beneath you as she surrendered to the sensations you were creating.

When your kisses reached her womanhood, her breath hitched, and a low moan escaped her lips, her fingers tangling in your hair as she arched slightly beneath you. You felt the heat of her, tasted the subtle sweetness of her skin, and your only thought was to please her, to give her the same release she had given you.

Rhaenyra’s soft moans filled the room, her fingers tightening in your hair as you continued your ministrations, her body trembling with every kiss, every touch. The sounds of her pleasure only spurred you on, the bond between you deepening with each passing second, each shared breath.

As you looked up at her, seeing the way her eyes fluttered closed in pure satisfaction, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself. There was no one else in the world who could make you feel the way she did—no one else who could understand the depth of your connection. And in that moment, you knew that nothing, not even the demands of the court, could take this from you.

This was yours. She was yours. And for now, in the quiet intimacy of the night, that was all that mattered.

[narcissisticsmoker]

The house hums with warmth and festivity—golden lights twinkle from the Christmas tree, laughter and the low murmur of conversation spill from the living room, and the faint scent of mulled wine and cinnamon lingers in the air. It’s perfect, picturesque, exactly how your family would want it to be.

But then there’s me—the uninvited guest, stepping through the doorway like a storm, dressed in a black, tailored suit that fits perfectly against my frame. My tie is loose, my shirt open just enough to suggest that I’m here to take, not ask. The moment I enter, the energy shifts. The light, airy mood darkens imperceptibly, and even though no one notices, you do.

You’re wearing a red dress that clings to you like a secret, every curve outlined, every movement deliberate, though you pretend it isn’t. The neckline is high enough to appease the room but low enough to catch my eye—an invitation you won’t admit you’ve sent. Your hair is swept up, not a strand out of place, but I already know how it will look tangled, messy, with my fingers buried in it.

Our eyes meet across the room. You freeze for just a second, your lips parting as if to say something, but you catch yourself. Instead, you turn back to the polite conversation with your cousin, though your hand trembles as you lift your glass.

I smirk, cutting through the crowd with calculated ease, exchanging pleasantries with people whose names I don’t care to remember. My focus is singular. You. Every glance, every fidget, every subtle shift of your body betrays you. You want me here as much as you want me gone, and we both know it.

When I’m close enough, I let my hand brush lightly against the small of your back. It’s a touch so subtle no one else notices, but you do. I hear the sharp intake of your breath, see the way your shoulders stiffen as I lean in, my voice low, private, just for you.

“You’ve been a good little angel tonight,” I murmur, my lips brushing against your ear. “Playing the perfect daughter, the perfect sister. But I know exactly what you’re thinking. And it isn’t very innocent, is it?”

Your head turns slightly, your eyes meeting mine, wide and defiant. “You shouldn’t be here,” you whisper, though your voice trembles, betraying you.

I chuckle softly, my hand pressing just a bit firmer against your back. “Oh, but you knew I’d come. That’s why you wore this dress, isn’t it? Pretending to ignore me while your body begs for my attention. Don’t lie, baby. You’re mine tonight, whether you admit it or not.”

Before you can respond, I take your hand, guiding you through the house with calm confidence, as if this was always the plan. The quiet hallway feels like another world, the soft glow of lights dimming into shadow as I pull you into the guest room and close the door behind us.

The second the lock clicks, I’m on you. My hands grip your hips, spinning you around and pinning you against the door. My mouth crashes against yours, hard, demanding, leaving no room for argument as my hands roam over the silk of your dress, bunching the fabric in my fists.

“You’ve been teasing me all night,” I growl, my voice rough as my lips trail down your neck, leaving marks no one else will see. “Smiling, laughing, acting so innocent while I’m standing there, watching you fall apart under my gaze.”

Your breath is ragged, your body arching into mine, but I grip your wrists, pinning them above your head. “No,” I whisper against your skin, my teeth grazing your collarbone. “You don’t get to touch me. Not yet. Tonight, I’m in control.”

I drag my hand down your body, slow, deliberate, feeling every inch of you tremble beneath me. The hem of your dress is pushed higher and higher until it’s no longer between us, and the soft gasp you let out when my hand slips beneath it only fuels me further.

“You’ve been such a good little angel out there,” I murmur, my voice dripping with dark amusement. “But here? You’re mine to ruin.”

I take my time, teasing you, pulling you closer to the edge and then stopping, making you gasp, making you beg. “Do you hear them?” I whisper, my lips brushing against your ear as I keep my rhythm slow and relentless. “Your family, just a few rooms away. Do you think they’d still call you their sweet little girl if they saw you like this? Writhing under me, gasping my name, begging me to take you harder?”

Your response is a broken moan, and I smirk, gripping your thigh and pulling you closer, deeper, until the sound of your breathing drowns out everything else. I push you further and further, building the tension until it breaks, leaving you trembling and undone against the door.

But I don’t stop. Not yet. My hands grip your hair, pulling your head back as I murmur against your lips, “We’re not finished, baby. Not until I’ve taken everything from you. And then, you’ll go back out there with your hair a mess, your dress crumpled, and my marks all over your skin, pretending to be their perfect angel again.”