#don't let the narrative hand-wave that away

[sketching-shark]

For as much as I've already gushed about how Journey to the West really stands out as a great work of literature, given the current state of popular "redemption arcs" it really can't be said enough how awesome it is that the og classic makes it impossible to ignore the various crimes of all the pilgrims and why they needed to go on a redemption journey in the first place.

Like it contrast to your typical broody jerks where the plot bends over backwards to pretend their various war crimes and all their victims don't matter, actually, just look at what JTTW gives us. You have a murder monkey who reminds us that he loves killing people every other chapter. You got a literal and metaphorical pig man who freely admits to eating a ton of people in addition to committing sexual harassment. You got a giant cannibal who also ate countless people and even wears a lot of their skulls as his own personal goth necklace. You got a dragon who may or may not have committed arson in addition to trying to eat at least one other guy. Even the holy monk went out of his way to get some guys tortured to death. They all explicitly suck in such fun and interesting ways even while trying their best, and THAT'S a good part of what makes their story so fun and satisfying to read.

[azrielbrainrot]

You Take Me Higher

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Description: What happens when you run into Azriel at a bar after a long mission?

Warnings: Smut, Public Sex

Word Count: 4220

Rating: 18+

Notes: This is basically pwp except it's part of a new universe I'm working on. Still, you can read this as a standalone since there's no actual plot here. I just felt like writing mindless smut since "She Laughs Like You" is so plot heavy. Hope you enjoy <3

Spy!Reader Masterlist

You normally don't come to Rita's, preferring calmer bars to the loud and suffocating club, it's too much of an assault to your senses. But your friends had invited you enough times for you to accept, not wanting to turn them down again. You hadn't seen them in a while after a particularly long mission outside of the Night Court so it was nice to catch up with them even if it meant dealing with the headache that always follows your trips here.

You'd seen the High Lord and his Inner Circle as soon as you arrived. Their commanding presence allowing your eyes to find them immediately among the rest of the club goers. Upon seeing them, seeing him, you almost regretted coming out, not knowing how to act around him outside of work or your escapades and definitely not wanting to do it in front of so many people.

You decide on a simple wave, nodding discreetly at him and the rest of his family, turning your attention back to your now gushing friends after they wave back politely, making sure you didn't linger on his hazel eyes or the unbuttoned silk shirt, keeping up with the “friendly acquaintances” narrative you've crafted for yourselves. Intending on keeping away from him for the rest of the night.

Azriel seemed to have a different idea as he signaled for you to follow him not even an hour later. And, as soon as you excused yourself from your friends and stepped out into the hallway, he grabbed your hand, intertwining your fingers and discreetly guiding you through a back door, to a dark alley behind the popular bar. Your back was against the wall and his lips on yours, hands roaming all over your body, before you could even question him or get a good glimpse at him under the moonlight.

“Azriel,” you whine, trying to get his attention away from your neck, where he has been leaving tiny bites followed by soothing open-mouthed kisses, effectively making you lose your mind. Your hand tightens around his collar at a particularly hard bite, one you're sure left the imprint of his sharp canines on your supple skin.

Just when you were about to call out to him once more, thinking he didn't hear you or was choosing to ignore you, the shadowsinger finally lets out a hum against the column of your throat, at last acknowledging you were trying to talk to him.

You swallow before speaking, trying to get rid of the dryness in your mouth. This backfires as it only makes him use his grip on the back of your neck to pull you even closer to him when he feels the movement, and a moan leaves your mouth before you find your words.

“Someone could see us,” you push through the desire steadily building inside you, trying to be the voice of reason, but you barely get the words out as he keeps nibbling on the soft skin of your throat, making you struggle to hold onto your composure.

When he simply lets out another amused hum before continuing to mark up your neck - to the point you're not sure the glamour magic you can use will be enough for covering them up - you tangle your fingers around the strands of dark hair and pull hard, effectively getting his attention. He grunts softly but allows you to move him away from your neck, and you're finally able to meet his eyes for the first time since he's taken you to the alley.

Your heart stalls in your chest when you take him in. Pupils blown out behind half-lidded eyes, the beautiful hazel almost imperceptible in the midst of all the desire. Dark hair messy, falling into his eyes, and shirt half undone from your tight grip on his collar, the illyrian marks you've grown to love peaking through. He was breathing heavy, chest rising and falling rapidly as he took advantage of the break you've given him to catch his breath.

The sight almost makes you forget your protests, brain going numb at the raw hunger reflected on his face. He's always been mesmerizing, you've been caught by his beauty ever since the first time you met him all those decades ago, but in moments like these you sometimes have trouble believing he's even real. He's like a God walking among mortals.

Azriel smirks when he notices your eyes glazing over and your scent deepening with arousal, taking the opportunity and leaning down for another, slower but equally passionate kiss. He's been so focused on your neck that he barely even tasted you since you've been outside. He wants to take his time with you for a moment.

Your mouth opens for him immediately, melting into him and releasing the grip you had on his dark locks in favor of grabbing the back of his neck, pulling him impossibly closer to you, needing to feel all of him while he explores your mouth.

Eventually, you break the dizzying kiss again, your senses catching up to you in between the desire fogging up the air. He lets out a sound suspiciously similar to a whine and leans his forehead against yours, barely moving a breath away from your lips. Resigned to hear what you have to say before being able to continue indulging in your enticing taste.

“We'll get caught if we stay here,” you whisper, lips brushing against his soft ones with every word.

You needed to keep your head leveled, wanting to avoid getting caught in such a risky position by any of the drunk party goers or, even worse, your High Lord. You don't even let yourself wonder what anyone would think if they found you tangled up with someone who is technically your superior, outside of a bar of all places. You'd both be in a lot of trouble.

“I won't let anyone see us,” he assures, and as the words leave his mouth, the dark shadows always accompanying him start swirling around the both of you, as if corroborating the statement. “I can keep us well hidden.” He finishes the sentence with a chaste peck on your lips and moves back to look into your eyes, searching for any doubts and waiting to see your response. Always so respectful even in the throes of pleasure.

You bite your lip, holding his gaze as you realize what he's implying. It's not that you would consider yourself a prude by any means but you've never done anything like this in public. Well, aside from the first night that started it at all, but the circumstances had been completely different then. Drunk fae could stumble out through the back door at any moment here, it could even be one of your friends or his. There was no anonymity in one of the most popular bars in Velaris. This might be the most irresponsible thing you'd do.

And, as much as that's true, you can't deny the heat spreading in your belly at the suggestion, the wetness pooling between your legs.

Azriel is looking at you like he could eat you whole, and you're more than aware of his abilities, of the delicious pleasure he can bring you. He wouldn't lie to you either, if he promised he'd keep you hidden then you know he will follow through with it. You'd trust him with anything.

Without the danger of really getting caught, what's stopping you from letting this irresistible male have his way with you right here? You'd be a fool to deny him and yourself the pleasure.

Your lips are back on his before you can talk yourself out of it, wrapping your arms fully around his neck and letting him take charge. He gets the message quickly, grabbing your waist and pressing you against him, letting you feel his bulge on your stomach, so close to where you need him most, making you both moan into the kiss.

Azriel has never been anything short of passionate when fucking you, always giving it his all and completely drowning you in mind boggling pleasure, but today he's acting differently. His rough touch is hungrier, greedier, as if he couldn't get enough of you no matter how much he took. It feels like he's untamed in his desire and it just so happens that he desires to have you.

His hands move all over your body, soon finding their way under your dress so he can grab at your thighs and pull you closer. You let yours wander down his chest, taking advantage of the mostly unbuttoned shirt, raking your nails softly over the tan skin.

When he abandons your mouth and starts leaving kisses down your jaw, moving to the slowly healing love bites, you notice the shadows have thoroughly covered you when you try to look around, suddenly aware of the loud music.

They're acting as a protective barrier to the outside world, the same way they hide him when he's in enemy territory fulfilling his Spymaster duties. Any last bit of remaining doubt evaporated with the realization. He's never been caught after all.

You let your head fall back against the brick wall, letting out a breath that soon turns into a moan when he bites into your throat hard at the same time his hand finds your folds, teasing the sensitive skin through the drenched fabric of your panties. Feeling him grin against your skin at the reaction he pulled from you.

“Always so ready for me,” he praises and then licks a stripe up your throat, tilting your head further back to reach your chin and connect your mouths once again. You accept him greedily, grinding down on his hand, needing him to touch you properly.

After all the attention he's been giving you and the thought of trying something new with the enticing male, your underwear is absolutely soaked through and you need him to take responsibility for it already. You feel like you'd been doused with hot oil.

Thankfully, he seems to take pity on you, pushing your panties to the side, moving up and down to gather some wetness before slowly starting to circle your clit in time with each lick of his tongue into your mouth.

He's swallowing the desperate sounds trying to escape past your lips and your nails start to dig into his shoulders, trying to ground yourself somehow. You'd be embarrassed at how close you already were if this wasn't Azriel. Each stroke of his scarred thumb against your sensitive clit was taking you higher.

He stops his movements as if sensing how close you were. You were about to protest when he also breaks the kiss, needing him to keep touching you, but hold your tongue when he pushes your dress up to your waist, exposing your soaked underwear to the cold night air. He curses softly as your scent reaches him.

“Keep this up for me, pretty.” His voice was deeper, rough with pleasure and restraint.

Your body catches up to the order before your mind has the chance to, doing as you're told and holding onto your dress so he can have an unobstructed view of you. He breathes out a “good” without ever taking his eyes off the wet fabric clinging to your folds, the praise and need in his eyes only adding fuel to the fire burning inside you.

Azriel gets down on his knees between your legs, now eye level with your cunt as he pulls the panties right to the side, his other hand reaching up, encouraging you to part your thighs so he can feast on the mouth watering sight in front of him.

You can't help the cocky smirk when he lets out a low groan at the sight. You had bought the white skimpy lace in hopes he'd be taking it off, you just couldn't have predicted it would be happening in a dark alley behind this bar.

He looks up at you then, holding your gaze as he leans closer to your heat, licking you from hole to clit, making a show of moaning at the taste. Your hands move to grab at his hair instantly, letting your mouth fall open in a silent moan as he repeats the action.

Your legs threaten to give out when he starts kissing and sucking, not wasting a single drop of your wetness. His thumb circles your hole as he moves to tongue at your clit, swirling it around once, twice before his finger is filling you up.

He throws one of your thighs over his shoulder, diving into your cunt. Soon adding another finger and pumping both into you, getting you ready for him. You start grinding your hips against his face, chasing his fingers, his mouth, the mind numbing feeling he's giving you. He hums into you, the vibrations making you tremble and let out an embarrassing mewl of his name.

You don't know how he can have this effect on you, this male could probably make you melt into a puddle with a simple look. He pulls away with a harsh suck so he can watch his fingers move in and out of you, can watch the wetness almost dripping down your legs and his wrist, replacing his tongue with a scarred thumb, the rough texture so different from his wet tongue, adding an extra bite to the pleasure.

You only notice your head was thrown back against the wall, eyes closed as you chase your orgasm, when you hear him call your name. Eyes moving down to meet his dark ones again.

“I need you to cum on my fingers so I can fuck you, alright?” You nod, half delirious already, even though he's barely gotten his hands on you. You'd do anything he told you to.

It doesn't take long before a familiar knot starts tightening in your lower belly, your walls clenching around his fingers. He starts nibbling at the soft skin of your thigh, leaving marks similar to the ones decorating your neck and chest. Mumbling sweet praises against your skin, words you can't even focus on with the blood rushing through your ears.

Your orgasm catches you by surprise, making you almost lose your balance as your eyes roll to the back of your head and your mouth opens in a silent scream, hands trying to find purchase on his shoulders and his hair, forgetting about the dress and holding onto his instead. His hand abandons your clit so he can grab onto your waist, helping you stay up.

He keeps his fingers moving slowly as you come down from your high, breathing heavily and letting out soft gasps. As your mind clears up, he leans over to leave one last kiss against your heat before taking his fingers out carefully and standing up. Grabbing your chin so he can kiss you once more, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

You pull away with a tug on his lip. The orgasm only made you hungrier, you wanted to feel him inside you, stretching you out. “I need your cock, Az.”

“So greedy,” he moans, though you can't figure out if disapprovingly or otherwise. He moves one hand to start unbuttoning his pants so he can free his painful erection at last. You follow the movement, saliva gathering in your mouth involuntarily at the tantalizing sight of his hard, leaking cock. He pumps his fist around it, relieving some of the need. You swallow, moving up to meet his gaze when you feel the intensity of his stare.

He's probably thinking the same thing as you. Remembering how his heavy cock feels against your wet tongue, moving down your throat. You see him grab the base of his cock harder, internally debating if he wants to let you suck him off or fuck you. Your cunt clenches at the thought and apparently the sentiment is clear on your face, the desire written there enough for him to make his decision as he grabs onto the back of your thighs, lifting you up against the wall.

The movement has his cock press right against you, feeling the hardness slide across your sensitive heat. You grab hold of him, not resisting giving him one teasing stroke before guiding him to your hole, needing to have him inside you desperately.

Azriel starts pushing in slowly, stretching you out deliciously. It doesn't matter how many times he fucks you, it will always take you by surprise. You've never had anyone fill you up so well, it almost seemed impossible how he even fit inside you sometimes.

He takes his time filling you up, knowing your body well enough to recognize any twinge of discomfort. In this position, it feels like he can go in deeper, the angle hitting every sensitive spot.

When he finally bottoms out, Azriel presses his whole body against yours, holding you up with his own hips and moving one of his hands over your chest so he can tug the front of the dress down and give your neglected breasts some attention as you adjust to him.

You can feel your walls flutter around his cock, moaning out his name when his mouth finds its way over one of your nipples.

Feeling more than ready for him, you push your hips against him, urging him to finally fuck you. He chokes out a breath, taking a vengeful bite at your nipple, as you move yourself on him, pulling his hips back to thrust back into you, feeling you clench around him. His mouth abandons your chest and meets yours again, hands tightening around your waist as his thrusts' rhythm increases.

It's like all the hunger from before comes back tenfold, his grip most likely bruising your skin as the sounds of wet skin slapping against each other fills the alleyway, your moans rising in tempo with each snap of his hips.

Just as you start losing yourself in the pleasure, one of his hands comes up to cover your mouth. You still let out a muffled whine when he slows down to warn you, whispering in your ear, “The barrier the shadows create isn't completely soundproof. You need to be quiet for me.” You whine in response, making him add, “Alright?”

You almost forgot where you were, and that anyone could walk by you at any moment, but in the heat of desire, the fact only makes you wetter, hips moving of their own accord against him, prompting him to pick up the pace.

“You said we wouldn't get caught.” The last thing you want to focus on right now is to keep quiet when he's making you feel so good.

“We won't,” he moves back to look into your eyes, “Unless you want us to.”

Maybe it's the drinks from before or the way his cock throbs inside you, but you almost wish someone would see you, so they would know you're the one this bewitching male chooses to fuck, you're the one making him cum time and time again, it's your name he moans out in pleasure.

The possessive feeling coils around your heart, a feeling you have no right to have. You have no sort of claim over him after all, but luckily he doesn't let your linger in such thoughts, and starts fucking you hard and fast again, effectively pushing all thoughts out of your mind.

“Gods, you feel fucking perfect,” he growls against your ear, making you let out a long muffled moan. He draws his cock out almost completely before slamming back into you, just so he can hear the gasp that still escapes through his fingers, before picking up the pace again, keeping to shallow thrusts.

His hand moves from your mouth eventually, confident you won't scream too loud, or simply not caring if you do anymore. Both of you get lost in the feeling of each other, tongues battling inside your mouth, your hands roaming all over his shoulders, coming up to tangle in his silky hair. Time almost stands still around the two of you as you hide in his shadows, completely separated from the outside world.

You start getting closer, and knowing you won't be able to hold out for much longer but wanting him to finish with you, you move your trembling hand down his back, finding the raised skin where his wings meet his back and tease them over his shirt.

Illyrians are extremely protective of their wings and you know how sensitive they are, so when he let you touch them around their base for the first time, you were more than flattered even though you can't fully run your fingers over the leathery skin yet, and you're almost sure this isn't the most sensitive spot. You know this is a big step for him, considering all the trust issues you've seen him display, so you don't mind being patient.

Your fingers barely make contact before he's growling and his pace falters, nails digging into your skin. You'd caught him off guard, but he recovers too fast, pushing you even harder into the wall and speeding up, fully intent on making you both fall over the edge now.

“I'm so close,” you breathe out, feeling yourself right at the precipice.

“Me too,” his thrusts turn even more erratic, confirming his words. And with another snap of his hips, you're falling over the edge, moaning out his name with no care for who hears it.

He follows you soon after, thrusting deeper and grinding into you, pumping you full of his cum as the both of you ride out the mind numbing orgasms. You don't remember the last time you came so hard, every nerve on your body is alive with pleasure, if it hadn't been for his hold on you, you don't think you would have been able to stay up.

His lips find your pulse point after a bit, leaving soft kisses around as you massage his scalp, watching with amusement as his wings twitch softly. You would stay in this position for the rest of time if you could, everything just falls into place in these soft moments between you two.

Unfortunately, you get a stark reminder of your surroundings when you hear the back door open, the music filtering through it. You tense immediately, suddenly hyper aware of your compromising position. Azriel leans away from your neck to look into your eyes, his serene expression and the way his wings cocoon around both of you calming you down.

Just as he promised, whoever stumbled out of the bar didn't even suspect you were hidden in the shadows, walking out onto the main street as if they were alone. When you don't hear any footsteps anymore, you let your head fall back against the wall, finally relaxing and breathing a soft, “Fuck.”

He watches you for a moment before speaking up. “We need to get out of here. People are starting to leave,” he tells you, a glimpse of amusement behind his words.

You nod in agreement, knowing he's right but, even after your scare, still hesitant to let go of him, reveling in the warmth of his skin against yours and his soft touch for as long as possible.

The longer you've been sleeping together, the harder it is to accept that outside of the bedroom you're nothing more than acquaintances, you wouldn't even call him your friend. Aside from moments like this or the rare occasion of running into him when you're working, you don't see or talk to him at all.

You always find yourself missing him, not only his body. That's something you need to hide from him, the implications would be enough to have him call off this agreement between you. There is no space for feelings in it, both of you made it very clear from the beginning. You should do yourself a favor and end it before the fluttering of your heart morphs into something more dangerous but you can't bring yourself to even consider it.

He pulls out of you gently, none the wiser to the internal conflict raging inside you. Getting you down from his hold and carefully helping you stand on unsteady legs, muscles still spasming faintly. A rag appears through his shadows and he helps you clean yourself up with it before even worrying about himself, making sure your dress falls back into place as well. You were truly playing a losing game with him. How could you not fall for Azriel?

When you're both decent enough, he calls his shadows off and you put up a glamour around yourself, hopefully masking his male scent clinging to your skin.

“I need to find my friends and let them know I'm leaving.” You try to think of excuses, knowing they'll know you're running off with someone but praying they can't figure out who.

He nods at you, looking over your body with an indecipherable look in his eyes as he takes note of his marks disappearing. “I'll wait for you here.”

“What?”

“My family is used to me sneaking off in the middle of outings,” a smirk grows on his face as he adds, “And I'm not done with you quite yet.”

taglist: @tinymarklee

[hermanoga]

My last argument before Yingdu drops : Shiguang will get a Happy Ending Beginning at the end of Link Click

translation : Waiting for you to come and want me!

Come and marry me!

The song that plays at the end, it contextually and thematically intertwines the narratives of the older couple and Shiguang together. It talks about perseverance, memory, time, waiting, love (quintessential themes of Shakespearean sonnet!) and a promise to be together till the end.

The song is called Shíguāng Jiāohuì Wǒ De or "What Time Has Taught Me"

This time, I'll quietly watch you leave Don't look back Just let the tears drown me ceaselessly After so long, I still don't understand What I should've done in that moment Would everything change because of that? That naive me of yesterday Left behind too many inconclusive answers All the people I hold dear, thank you for having appeared in my life Smile and have faith The you still innocent in my heart With unwavering conviction, go forth and chase The moment when your heart's desire nears I've gotten used to it, flipping through All that time has slowly walked through Every single brand new day Please shine brightly and wait for me I watch as it all scatters in the wind I turn back once more Stubborn and unyielding, I stride forwards Oh, it's as if the shadow of time is pulling me by the hand Outfitting myself with you and my courage Even if we, insignificant as we are, cannot correct those mistakes As long as we dream in earnest, we can still love each other deeply Smile and have faith The you still innocent in my heart With unwavering conviction, go forth and chase The moment when your heart's desire nears I've gotten used to it, flipping through All that time has slowly walked through Every single brand new day Please shine brightly and wait for me The people that have left, the people before your eyes The ones that laughed and cried with you Go forth with courage and embrace Every single hypothetical of growing up The reversing, the receding Between parallel and intersecting lines, find a release What's been frozen in frame, what is cherished They're what time has taught me Every memory — the wonderful ones, the ones I've bid farewell to They're what time has taught me

Now let's look at the lyrics of 'The Eye' (even though, the visual significance is also very important, it complements the lyrics)

I wish that I could tell you the truth I've seen it a million times I stopped painting excuses red Even if I'm trapped in a rewind Rewinding right in front of the eye I ran towards the end of the line I heard your voice but missed you in time I followed every end of the signs But the clock tower bell only struck nine When the sun sets on this side of my mind And I thought it was snowing Only when the ashes fell on the film in my hands Did I know There will be a fire when it all unfolds We should bury the treasure along with all we know But I couldn't save you I couldn't make it to you Trapped in endings I don't want you to know So long to a bursting wave of blinding lights But we fought the tides, we fought the tides Till the river dried We splash velvet dye in the sky Standing still in front of the eye I still remember the way you danced under heavy rain Hold out your hands and embraced When clouds never seemed to fade away away away away Rolling thunders in disguise No matter how hard we looked in the lost and found We never could shine the moonlight underground To the point where we got sick of pretending like we are saviors Till we learn to carry on There will be a fire when it all unfolds We should bury the treasure along with all we know But I couldn't save you I couldn't make it to you Trapped in endings I don't want you to know So long to a bursting wave of blinding lights But we fought the tides, we fought the tides Till the river dried We splash velvet dye in the sky Standing still in front of the eye So the clock tower bell only struck nine And we followed every end of the signs If I heard your voice and caught you in time Are you with me to the end of the line? Are you with me to the end of the line Are you with me to the end of the line Are you with me to the end of the line Are you with me?

The narrative of this song is still waiting for the response, it's not over yet. Yingdu will increase the tension and I will love (crying) it.

I have already argued so much on this, this is the most prominent (and my favourite) parallel example I wanted to remind myself and others again. Joi, Shiguang!

[monster-disaster]

[orc] Tasha

orc!Tasha x human!Reader Good to know: smut

Summary: You and Tasha meet in the museum after the visitors leave.

The museum is buzzing with life. The sound of footsteps and quiet conversations echoes against the carefully polished marble floors and tall walls. The place is lit by the sun streaming through the glass dome at the top of the lobby. Everything is bright and lively. You can't help but smile at the sight of people coming and going through the grand entrance. Most of the visitors are tourists with backpacks and cameras or families with excited kids running around their parents' legs. You really love days like this. When everything is busy and you don't even notice how quickly the time passes while you work.

You are standing at the reception. Your hips against the counter while you wait for your next group. Your fingers play with the brochures in your hands. "Your break is over already?" You recognize Tasha's voice immediately. Your heart jumps into your throat, and excitement runs through your spine. You almost scowl at your own reaction. "Yes," you clear your throat, letting yourself look at the orc a few steps away from you.

Tasha stands tall and confident. The black trousers she wears stretch on her legs, following the firm line of her bottom. Her white shirt is similar to yours, tucked in under the belt adorning her slim waist. The fabric highlights her broad shoulders and muscular arms. The sleeves are folded up to her elbows. Your gaze pauses at the swell of her breasts. You try to tell yourself you are only looking at her name tag and the security company she works for above the plastic card, but you are lying.

Damn, nobody should look this good in a simple guard uniform.

"My eyes are up here, little human." Damn it! "I know," you gasp, snapping your eyes up to her dark brown ones. Her tusks make her smile even more smug as she stares at you intensely. You feel the heat creeping up to your face. "I have to go," you continue after a few silent seconds. "You know, work and…" And? She is amused at your flustered state. It makes everything worse for you. "Okay," she smirks. "I will see you later." "Yeah," you breathe out. "Yeah."

The museum is like a maze where the walls are adorned with carefully curated artworks, artifacts, and information displays. Spotlights illuminate the exhibits on your way through the rooms full of history. Each room you enter presents a new chapter in the narrative of human creativity, achievement, and knowledge. Sculptures, skeletons, and hundreds of years old items follow you among the columns as you lead your group.

The group of kids you guide are excited and loud. Their teachers are constantly busy to keep them in line. They have dozens of questions about everything you show them. The weight of history hangs in the air, and you are more than happy to connect them with the past and its wonders.

You can't help but notice Tasha every now and again, even though the children around you keep you occupied most of the time. You see her helping the visitors and doing her job while stealing a glance or two your way.

The female orc can barely tear her eyes away from you. Happiness and enthusiasm radiate off of you in thick waves. You smile and laugh as you talk about history. Her chest warms up at the sight. And she can still see your flustered state in her mind. She wanted to steal you away from the crowd to a dark corner where nobody could disturb you.

Hours pass by while both of you are busy with work. At some point, Tasha has to go back to the security room and check on the cameras while her coworker goes on their break. She sits at the desk, watching the black and white screens. She notices you here and there, guiding your group through the exhibitions. She feels almost ridiculous.

You caught her eyes the first day you started working at the museum. You were excited and sweet. And you stuttered every time she talked to you in the first few weeks. She couldn't get enough of you.

And she still can't.

Her thoughts are soon disturbed by the quiet knocks on the door. "Come in," she calls out.

The voice is muffled by the door, but you still know it's Tasha, and your nerves immediately jump to the roof. After she caught you staring at her chest, you hoped you could avoid being alone with her for a few days until your humiliation lessened.

Well, no such luck.

"Hey," you greet her quietly, stepping into the room and closing the door behind you. "Oh!" Tasha is surprised but happy to see you. "Did you miss me?" She smirks. "No," you reply. "Yes." Her smile widens, and you already feel hot in the small space. You want to stay alone with her and run away at the same time. "How can I help you, Meggy?" She asks in the end. "One of the kids lost one of their shoes somewhere," you tell her. "Could we rewatch the recording?" "A shoe?" "Don't even ask," you shrug. "They are kids. It happens." "Okay," the orc hums, still surprised. "But yeah, we can look for it, sure." When she turns back to the monitors, you move closer to see the screens too. As you lean over her shoulder, her scent hits you across the face. She smells like the shampoo she probably uses on her dark red hair that highlights the soft green shade of her skin. It's spicy with herbs and something else you don't recognize. "Do you have any idea where they lost it?" "They said they had it when we saw the dinosaurs." Tasha nods.

You know you should focus on the screen, but it's harder and harder with each passing second. Tasha's scent fills your senses, making you forget why you are even here in the first place. Your fingertips tingle with the need to touch her hair. Her red locks are in braids and twirls with beads around them. And now that you are so close to her, you notice the light freckles across her cheeks. They are just a few shades darker than her skin. You force your eyes to move back to the computers. You don't need her to catch you staring at her again.

"There," you gasp out, leaning over her broad shoulder even more to point at the little kid. They take off their shoes for no reason at all, and when one of the teachers calls out for the small group, they run after their classmates without looking back at the shoe.

You only notice how close you are to the orc when you turn your head to look at her. Your upper body is pressed against her shoulder, and your faces are just a few inches away from each other.

Blood surges in your veins, and the room seems even smaller. "Thanks!" You squeak, and without looking back, just like the kid, you run out of the security room.

A long week goes by without you and Tasha talking to each other for more than a few words. The museum is busy with schools coming for their yearly field trip and people trying to enjoy their free time and learn something new. You guide groups through the exhibitions several times a day.

You meet the female orc again for more than a few minutes on a Friday night. It's already late, and you are one of the few who are still in the museum. It's quiet and peaceful. You always enjoy going through a few rooms after the doors close in front of the visitors. You often find something new and interesting. It's like the museum changes every now and again without anyone really noticing it.

"Didn't you see that enough times already?" The familiar voice asks from behind you. Your gaze from the painting goes to the orc immediately when you turn your head to look at her over your shoulder. You shrug. "I like it." "You should go home, little human, I'm sure you are tired." "I'm on my way to the changing room," you tell her, but none of you move. Your eyes are locked, trying to come up with something to continue the conversation. "You know," she starts, looking around the room. "I never really looked around here." "What?" You are shocked. "What do you mean? You work here." "But I'm always busy with the visitors." "I can give you a private tour if you want?" You suggest. Tasha has to force her thoughts to stay on the right path. When you say private tour, she imagines entirely different things. "Only if you have time. I don't want to keep you here." "No, it's fine. I have nothing to do." A grimace pulls on your lips. Maybe you shouldn't admit you have nothing to do on a Friday night.

So you and Tasha continue your way through the rooms. You stop here and there to show things to her and talk about their past. You bombard her with names, dates, and locations. There are times when the orc worries that you don't even breathe while you talk but never tries to stop you. She often sees you with visitors but has never seen you this close while you speak with so much passion. It radiates from your voice.

"I have no idea how you can remember so many things," she says after a while. You look at the sculpture in front of you, but she watches you. Your eyes are bright, and your smile is constant. "I talked your ear off, didn't I?" You grimace, starting to feel guilty. "I'm sorry. I-" "Don't be sorry," Tasha cuts in. "I enjoy it. It's sexy." Heat rushes up to your face at her last words. "Well," you clear your throat. "Thanks?" She laughs at your reaction. You can barely look at her. She moves closer. "Do I make you nervous?" There is no point in lying. "Yes." Your eyes fall on the plastic name tag on her chest. "Is it good or bad?" Tasha is amused and too entertained with your current state. "Good." "Can I kiss you, Meggy?" Her next question makes you forget how to breathe. Your head snaps up to look at her. "Yes," you croak out. There is no way you could say no to a woman like Tasha.

She leans closer, and in the next second, her lips are on yours. The kiss is gentle and slow. She lets you warm up to her closeness. Her tusks are hard and, at first, a bit strange against your skin, while her lips are soft and warm. She licks your lower lip once, twice, three times, and before she can do it for the fourth time, your mouth opens. Her tongue slips against yours, and her arms curl around your waist to pull you closer. The kiss gets heavy and searing.

"Oh," you breathe out after a few seconds. "Oh?" She asks back, smirking. "I need more than that, little human." The moan out of your lips before you can stop it. Her brow lifts with interest. "Do you like it when I call you that?" She asks. "Yes." "How much do you like it?" She already knows the answer but wants to hear it from you. "Very much," you clear your throat. You can't think straight when the orc is so close. Her arms are still around you, and her breath fans over your face. "Do you get wet?" She asks shamelessly. "Tell me, Meggy, does your pussy clench when I call you little human?" "Yes," you reply, barely louder than a whisper. Your breathing is heavy and ragged. Your fingers tug on her white shirt, opening a few buttons until you can clearly see a part of her breasts. She doesn't wear a bra. "Show me," she says, putting her own hand into yours. "Guide my hand to your pussy, Meggy. Let me feel your wetness and your hot cunt."

Oh god.

Your fingers curl around her wrist. Your hold is weak and trembling as you easily pull her hand under the waistband of your skirt. "Ah-ah," she hums. The orc flicks your clit through the thin fabric of your panties. She can already feel how wet you are, but she wants more. She wants to feel your flesh, wet and hot, under her touch. Tasha doesn't have to say anything else. You lead her hand into your panties until you feel her warmth on your aching cunt. She draws a few teasing circles on your clit, watching your reactions. Your eyelashes flutter as your mouth falls open with a silent moan. Your fingers tighten around Tasha's arm to keep yourself on your feet. Every twist and rub of her fingers sends you higher and higher. Your thighs close on her hand until she can barely move.

It doesn't stop her, though.

"Fuck, Meggy," the orc groans. "You soak my hand. I can smell your pussy, you know that, right?" Oh god. Your reaction is barely noticeable, but she can still see it. A bit of shame and much more hunger glint in your hazy eyes. "The c-camera," you gasp out, looking over her shoulder to the small device hanging in the corner. "Don't worry about it, sweet girl," Tasha replies, leaving your clit to slide through your folds until she reaches your entrance. Your whole body shudders with anticipation. "They can see nothing from this angle." There is a big part of her that wishes otherwise. The orc wants a video of you coming undone in her hands and clever fingers. "Fuck, Tasha!" You cry out when she pushes inside. Your nails dig into her skin. One of her fingers is enough to stretch you. The heel of her hand rubs against your clit. You don't even know where you should concentrate anymore. "It's okay, little human," she hums against your ear. Her voice is deep and smug. "Cum on my hand. Make a mess on my finger so I can taste you." "T-Tasha!" Your scream is hoarse and ragged. Your eyes fall shut when the burning coil in your lower stomach snaps with force. Your muscles twitch with pleasure, and for a long second, you can't even breathe. "So sweet," Tasha hums, watching you the whole time. You are even more beautiful during your orgasm than she imagined. And she imagined it a lot. "My sweet girl, my pretty girl." The orc eases you down from your high softly and slowly. Her embrace cocoons you into safety and warmth while her voice brings you back to reality. When you open your eyes, you see her lifting her finger to her lips, licking down your juice, shining on her green skin. Your blood already feels like lava in your veins, and the sight doesn't help. "You taste as sweet as you look," she says, leaning down to kiss you again. You can taste the faint taste of yourself on her tongue. "Tasha," you breathe out her name but can't continue. You are not sure what you should say. She just made you cum in front of a camera, even if you are safe behind her large body, in the museum where both of you work. "Come home with me?" She asks, helping you out. "We could order some food, and if you are okay with it, I would really like to taste your sweet pussy." Excitement bubbles in your chest again. Your pussy throbs with the need to let Tasha do whatever she wants to do to you. "Okay," you force an answer out through your tightened throat. "I would like that too." A smile spreads across her face and softly tugs you against her side. "That's my sweet little human."

- Masterlist Meriad Masterlist Patreon + extra chapter

[snowy-vee]

ALL MINE (5) Re-Done. MUST READ AGAIN

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DAILY CLICK!!!!

DON'T STOP TALKING ABOUT PALESTINE JUST BECAUSE THE STRIKE IS OVER! NOBODY WILL BE FREE UNTIL EVERYONE IS FREE!

oblivious loser bsf! ellie williams x posesive popular bsf!fem reader

INDEX

n/a: I'VE CHANGED THINGS AND I MIGHT'VE FOUND INSPIRATION after watching 'You' again, if my narrative seems like Joe's, so sorry, I am obsessed with the man. BARE WITH ME, much shorter chapter then the one before

You were running, feeling the sweat drops sliding down your face. Your legs felt tired, but you knew that if you stopped now, you’d likely collapse on the ground. Still, you kept increasing the speed on the treadmill, wanting to challenge yourself more.

“Are you done? We need to talk.” Jesse was beside you on another treadmill, but he was still, just leaning against it, watching you. You stopped the machine, gradually reducing the speed.

“I hope this isn’t bad news. I’ve had to put up with a lot from those two this week; I don’t plan on hearing from you that everything’s going wrong now,” you said before starting to drink water to hydrate your dry throat. The truth was, you had started frequenting the campus gym much more than before because it was unbearable to hear Ellie talk about Dina or see Ellie and Dina acting cute in the apartment.

Acting like it didn’t bother you was becoming a very difficult task, and there were times when you would simply cut Ellie off mid-conversation and lock yourself in your room. The next day, you’d have to lie about something. You couldn’t bear the thought that the small plan you had with Jesse would fail. You had been helping him with things like knowing where Dina was at any given time, if she was excited about some new show, if she had any other favorite candies, or to keep Ellie busy so he could have some alone time with Dina.

While Dina’s visits had been decreasing, you still saw her around the house. That wasn’t enough for you; she had to disappear from your lives.

“I’ve been thinking that maybe you should participate more too.”

“I already do. It’s not easy keeping them away.”

“No, I mean you should start seducing Ellie,” you frowned at his words, confused about what he meant. “I can win Dina back, but likewise, Ellie could give it a shot, as both are currently single and Ellie’s interest lies solely with Dina, I think.”

You nodded slowly, seeing the point of his words. You hadn’t thought about also having Ellie eating out of your hand; she had to desire you as much as you did her.

“Well, Ellie and I are going to my vacation home next weekend for Spring Break. I can try something there; we’ll be alone for two days before my family arrives.”

“I know. I have a date with Dina that and this weekend.”

“A date?”

“Well, she’s coming to my house to help me study,” Jesse clarified, handing you your bag. “Keep me informed if anything changes between you and Ellie.”

“The same goes for you” you grabbed your bag and waved him goodbye as you left the gym.

Whistling, you went through your phone, swiping insta stories ¡Bingo! They were on a date in some place so you had the house by yourself for maybe a couple hours. The bus took it’s time to arrive but the trip to the apartment was quick.

You were going to shower, sleep and maybe fantasize a little bit. You could wake up on a Saturday morning and start scheming from the very first ray of sunlight.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

And you did. Your whole week revolve around Ellie and being in her space more than anything, pleasing her, hanging out with her, making excuses just to have her by your side.

“I just need some help to prepare things for the trip” you would say declining the call of Dina on her phone while she was in the shower “I want to have a great time, I’m so tired of studying all my free time”

“I can help, yeah” Her voice sounded a little muffled because of the water running, you were mesmerized looking at her figure, at least, the shadow. “I just have to let Dina know, we’ve made plans, maybe you can tag along?”

You? Tag along? Why did it had to be you the one tagging along and not Dina? You huffed in annoyance.

“Can you pass me my towel?”

“You could always get it yourself, I’ve seen you naked before”

“I don’t want to wet the floor!” The water stop running and she popped he head and her arm, waving it so you could give her the towel. You were fast to leave the phone where she left it before, you threw the towel at her.

Sighs left your dry mouth as you remember. It’s been hard this week, so hard to balance cheer practice, studies, keep Ellie around, keep Ellie’s phone close, keep Jesse informed, keep Dina away, make Jesse inform you, stay pretty, stay consistent, don’t stop the motion.

The Friday morning, you were in the library, first time of the week that you actually spent time alone. Not fully since you met Jesse at first to talk about them and after collecting and exchanging information you went to the furthest table to study and concentrate in your work.

Now you were gathering your books and laptop because Ellie had sent you a message saying she was going home already, that she was going to pick you up, that you should be ready. You saw her at the door, but she wasn’t alone and seemed to be arguing with the other person.

With every step you took, you could see more of the other person’s face, it was Dina. They both fell silent the moment you opened the door and greeted them, Dina looked you up and down and turned her attention back to Ellie “Please don’t stop talking to me this week, we’re both angry about different things and it’s best if we calm down and talk another time”.

And with that she walked into the library bumping your shoulder on purpose, you opened your mouth offended and turned to Ellie “What is her problem with me? Just know that I’m holding back because it’s your something, but otherwise…”

“I don’t even know if we’re still a thing” she muttered grabbing your backpack and starting to walk “Come on, we need to pack our bags for the Easter trip.”

You nodded looking inside the library as Dina and Jesse seemed to be studying together while laughing, you couldn’t be happier. The plan was working, but it wouldn’t be complete until Ellie and Dina broke up completely.

When you got home, you went into your room and saw that your bed was full of clothes and your travel bag was almost full. You sighed as you got down to work and finished packing your bag and cleaning your room, once you finished you went into Ellie’s room only to find her lying on top of the pile of clothes. “What are you doing? We’re supposed to be out of here in less than two hours and I remind you that you’re supposed to drive there.”

“I don’t even know what to put in.”

“Ellie, you’re like an NPC, you always wear the same clothes, just put three pairs of trousers, five shirts, one pair of pyjamas and two swimming trunks, we’ll swap clothes if we have to.”

“I’ll pass, how about I stay here? I wouldn’t want to spoil your holiday with your family.”

“No way, you’re family too, my mother loves you as if you were her daughter, I’ll help you!”

‘Like a daugther soon to be in law’ you thought, pushing her to the edge of the bed and starting to look through her clothes to see what she could and couldn’t wear. It didn’t take long and Ellie took the opportunity to clean her room and prepare some snacks for mid-trip.

Soon you were both changed into comfortable clothes and inside the car ready for the journey. Oh, what a trip this one was going to be ¿Ellie and Dina upset with each other? The cream decorating the cupcake ¿You maintaining her occupied so she could barely have time to check on her phone and lose contact with Dina while Jesse did his thing? Cherry on TOP.

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[capacle]

I keep thinking of the double-edged sword of partial success.

On one hand, they do help move the story forward. On the other hand, coming up with complications every time can be taxing.

That got me thinking: what if we reversed the way we look at partial success?

See, a partial success is usually seen as taking away from a full success. It is a ‘success, but…’.

You start with the assumption that you did the thing, but then you take a step back and inject a cost, a complication, or a choice.

I love it, but it can be overwhelming.After the 6th partial success in a row, you're like: “You convince the prince, but… I don’t know, you twist your ankle or something, I don’t care. Let’s move on.”

I've tackled this problem in different ways. Mechanizing it, hand-waving it, offering prompts and tables… They work, but I kept exploring. And that led me to the idea of looking at partial success from the other end.

What if we did the opposite? What if we started from a failure, and built up towards success with costs? Would it help with narrating partial success if we could pick and choose a few costs to work our way towards success?

So in my current project, I adopted this.

You roll 2d6 and need to get a 10+ (which is hard). If you don't, you can buy your success by spending different resources.

Let's see an example:

With a determined yell, I lunge forward, my blade slicing through the air towards the guard. I roll a 7, not enough for a successful strike. I spend one Vigor, representing the sharp sting of the guard's counterattack grazing my side. I also spend one Gear, as my sword hums with a magical energy. Lastly, I spend 1 Resolve. The guard's strength has caught me off guard, a flicker of fear igniting in my chest. With vigor, gear, and resolve combined, I reach the threshold, turning my near miss into a solid hit.

You see what I see?

It feels like you conquered a hit, instead of having your success tainted by costs, although it is technically the same thing.

Is it just me?

Looking at my resources and spending them as a little puzzle to get to my success threshold made the act of incorporating these costs into the narrative more natural to me.

Perhaps the feeling that you are investing into a success is a more powerful incentive to do so?

Anyway, I thought it was pretty exciting to explore this concept. So much so that it ended up being the core of a new game. And I’m itchfunding it right now!

If you want to see this mechanic (and some of its cool variations) in action, check it out!

[beegomess]

Our good looking boy || Kendall Roy

Summary: Continuation of "But I see her, in the back of my mind" - Things have changed a lot since that day, since he finally realizes. Warnings: A little sad and sentimental, but very deep with touches of love and cuteness. In this story there will be no Rava or any of the children. - word count: 8.4k

Kendall wandered around the deck with that distant and loaded look, as if every thought was trapped in an infinite cycle. Since Naomi had left - or rather, had been strategically sent away - he seemed more thoughtful than ever. Logan had played his card with surgical precision, and Kendall knew it. The old patriarch always knew how to manipulate the pieces in his favor, but this time, the thing seemed more personal.

The echoes of Logan's words hammered incessantly in his mind, each sentence loaded with disdain by Naomi and an almost enthusiastic acceptance of you. "She's a mess, Kendall. It always was." It wasn't just about pleasing his father, but now, given the reality of a son on the way, it seemed that he had to decide which narrative he would choose for his own life.

You, in turn, also felt the weight of the environment. Logan was surprisingly welcoming to you and your pregnancy, but you knew that nothing in this world came without ulterior motives. Was he happy? Yes. But only because it served his interests. It wasn't the love of an anxious grandfather - it was strategy, pure and simple.

Wanting to escape the suffocating pressure of that yacht, you decided to explore one of the nearby cones. The smaller boat left you on an isolated beach, the sound of the waves echoing on the coast. It was the kind of scenario that should bring peace, but Colin, always obedient to Logan's command, followed you like a constant shadow.

The sunset dyed the sky with warm tones, but you could barely appreciate it with Colin a few steps behind you, always attentive, always there. The noise of his footsteps in the sand was annoying, almost suffocating. Finally, he stopped and turned to face him.

- Colin, you know... what do you think about waiting for me on the boat? - You tried to sound gentle, throwing a forced smile. But the security guard remained motionless, like a statue, without any reaction.

You crossed your arms, staring at him for a long moment.

- It's okay, really. There's nothing around here but some seagulls and... insects. I can certainly handle it alone. - His voice was a little firmer this time, but Colin remained still, impassive.

You were about to be more direct, maybe even angry, when a voice coming from behind cut the air.

- All right, Colin. I'll stay with her.

You turned quickly to see Kendall standing there, hands in her pockets, her face illuminated by the golden sunset. He had that half-sided smile, casual and confident, as if the tension of the moment was nothing. Colin hesitated just a second before nodding and walking away, returning to the boat.

- But what... shit. - You babbled to yourself, staring at Kendall with indignation. He just laughed, a low and hoarse laugh that carried a mixture of fun and tiredness.

- I knew Colin would annoy you. - Kendall shrugged, her eyes playing to study your reactions. - I thought you were going to explode at any moment.

- He's just... I don't know, I don't know, very quiet, I think. - You narrowed your eyes, but there was a slight smile at the corner of your mouth.

- Well, now you have the best company. - He gestured vaguely to himself, as if it were obvious. - Besides, I needed a pretext to run away from my father.

You laughed, even against your will, and began to walk through the sand, letting him accompany you. The sun continued to go down, dyeing everything around in warm and soft tones. For a moment, the tension between you seemed to dissolve in the quiet scenario.

- So, what's going on? - you asked, without looking at him directly, your feet sinking into the soft sand.

Kendall hesitated for a moment, as if he was carefully choosing the words.

- I think... I needed some time away from everything. From him. - His voice came out softer than you expected. - And from me, maybe.

You nodded with a slight smile, trying to soften the weight of the moment.

- Well, you chose the right place.

Kendall stopped for a moment, her eyes fixed on the sea, as if she were looking for answers in the waves that broke incessantly.

- I don't know if I can get away from everything, you know? - He sighed, running his hand over his face with a tired gesture. - But, for some reason, here... with you... it seems easier.

Her answer came low, almost in a whisper, as if she spoke more to herself than to him.

- At least you have options.

Kendall immediately turned her face to you, her expression confused and somewhat alarmed. He was silent for a moment, as if processing his words before asking, carefully:

- What do you mean?

You looked up to find him and took a deep breath, as if you needed to gather courage to continue. Then, a faint smile appeared on his lips, loaded with a mixture of irony and resignation.

- Well, having a child of yours was not exactly the best strategy if my intention was to keep Logan as far away as possible. - His voice carried an almost playful tone, and Kendall let out a short laugh, a little tense, but genuine.

- And now? - you continued, looking at the sea. - Now I can choose which movie to watch, but I can't even choose my security guard.

Kendall shook her head, laughing softly.

- He's not that bad.

- Oh, of course. I'll remember this the next time he follows me to the bathroom. - You rolled your eyes on purpose, and Kendall laughed more openly this time.

The brief moment of lightness was interrupted by the sound of the waves hitting the stones. You sat on the sand, feeling the cold texture under your hands, and he did the same, settling next to you. The silence settled again, but this time it seemed more comfortable, as if both were allowing themselves to be just there, without needing to say much.

- I'm sorry... for everything. - Kendall broke the silence, his voice low and loaded with a weight that he seemed to carry for a long time. He kept his eyes on the horizon, unable to look directly at you.

You watched him for a moment, noticing the tension on his shoulders, and replied softly:

- All right, Ken.

He didn't react immediately, but when you mentioned:

- I'm sorry for Naomi too. I know you like her.

Kendall kept his gaze lost in the sand for a while, as if the words he needed to say were buried there, hard to reach. Finally, he broke the silence, the hesitant voice:

- Naomi... - He stopped, as if saying her name was harder than he expected. - I... like her. I mean, I liked it.

You arched an eyebrow, turning your head slightly to look at him.

- Would You Like It?

Kendall laughed without humor, rubbing her face with her hands.

- I don't know. I think so. Or maybe it's more about what she represents, you know? She was... simple, at first. Without all these... expectations.

- Oh, of course. Because dating a Pierce heiress was super discreet and uncomplicated. - You answered with a hint of sarcasm, the corner of your mouth rising in a half smile.

Kendall looked at you and, for a moment, seemed surprised, but soon smiled, a true smile that was not often seen.

- Okay, point for you.

- Thank you. - You replied, leaning slightly as if you were accepting an invisible trophy.

He took a deep breath, looking at the sea again.

- It's just that, with her... I could be a mess and it seemed that everything was fine, you know?

You were silent for a moment, reflecting on what he said. Then, he replied, with a softer tone:

- Maybe because she's also a mess.

Kendall turned her face to you, surprised by the frankness, but couldn't avoid a low laugh.

- Fair.

- But do you know what I think? - You continued, crossing your arms and looking at the horizon. - I think, deep down, you don't want someone who just accepts the mess. You want someone to help you organize things.

He was silent, but the tension on his shoulders seemed to decrease a little. Then, he looked at you sideways, a playful smile emerging.

- How do you know so much about what I want?

- Intuition. - You answered, smiling back.

There was a moment of pause, a comfortable silence. Then, Kendall looked at her belly, now slightly visible under the fabric of the dress, and changed the subject almost abruptly:

- Have we ever thought of a name?

You laughed, shaking your head and raising your eyebrows as if you were evaluating the situation.

- Oh, us? I didn't know we were a team now.

Kendall raised her hands in a gesture of surrender, with a half-innocent, half-complicit expression.

- Well, I'm here now.

You narrowed your eyes, but the smile that formed on your lips denounced that you were not really irritated.

- Right, then. Let's listen to your brilliant ideas.

He tilted his head, pretending a thoughtful posture, and it took a few seconds before speaking with false seriousness.

- Okay. What do you think of... Logan?

You burst out laughing before he could even finish.

- Not even in a million years.

Kendall made an expression of false outrage, but there was a glint of fun in his eyes.

- Why? What's wrong with honoring your grandfather?

You turned slightly to him, still laughing, and shook your head as if that was too absurd to deserve consideration.

- Because I want our son to love me. I don't want to be the person who put "Logan" on his birth certificate.

The moment between the two of you was quiet, almost magical. The sunset dyed the sky with shades of orange and gold, bathing everything around in a soft and welcoming light. The conversation flowed naturally, full of occasional laughter and comments that ranged from irreverent to unexpectedly sincere. It seemed that, for a moment, the weight of Logan and his manipulations was forgotten, left behind along with the distant sound of the waves breaking gently.

Kendall, with her cap tilted to protect her eyes, kept a smile that seemed more genuine than any other you remembered seeing on him. You, in turn, let out light laughter, the wind playing with the thin fabric of the dress you wore. The conversation extended as if time had stopped, and, because you were so immersed in each other, you didn't even notice the small boats that passed by, much less the camera or cell phone that, in one of these boats, captured the moment.

The image that emerged from that stolen click was not just a photograph. It was a narrative in itself: you and Kendall sitting side by side in the sand, he with a half-slanted smile, looking at you with something that the lens translated as admiration. You, with the light dress revealing a glimpse of the bikini and the subtle outline of the pregnancy that was still a secret to the media, seemed to be in full peace. The paradisiacal scenario around only intensified what that photo suggested - a happy, intimate couple, enjoying the moment before the arrival of a new chapter.

When the photo circulated, it came accompanied by headlines that carried all the weight that the surname Roy brought with it. "New heir Roy on the way: A new piece on the board of the Roy dynasty," declared the headlines, in a sensationalist tone, as if the baby you carried was another strategic move in the family's endless power war.

The media turned that image into something bigger than reality. For the world, she was the perfect portrait of harmony and happiness: two future fathers in love, expecting their first child.

Back on the yacht, the mild weather you and Kendall carried from the beach seemed to spread throughout the environment. You went up the stairs with quiet steps, still smiling at something he had said on the way. Kendall, adjusting the cap to protect herself from the sun, seemed for a moment oblivious to the weight of everything. It was as if, for a few hours, the problems had been forgotten in the sand.

But then Roman appeared, leaning on the handrail with his cell phone in his hands, showing off an annoyingly satisfied smile. His tone, loaded with sarcasm and that characteristic malice, soon interrupted what was left of serenity.

- Look who came straight back from a family sunscreen commercial. - Roman began, leaning to display the phone screen. - I don't think someone from the Pierce family will like to see this.

The phrase came loaded with a sharp sarcasm, but there was also a touch of subtle resentment in her voice, a reminder that Naomi was still part of the scenario, at least in theory.

Kendall furrowed her eyebrows and took a step closer.

- What are you talking about? - He asked, already with the cautious tone of someone who knew that nothing coming from Roman could be something simple.

Roman turned his cell phone to both of you, revealing the photo that was already circulating everywhere. There you were, sitting on the beach, illuminated by the sunset. Her light dress showed the discreet contour of the pregnancy, and Kendall, although with the cap covering part of her face, had an evident smile as she looked at you.

You froze for a moment, the smile faltering on your lips before disappearing completely. His eyes turned to Kendall, who stared at the screen with an expression difficult to decipher.

- What the fuck is this? - You asked, your voice lower than you intended, but still loaded with disbelief.

Kendall ran his hand over his face, an exasperated sigh escaping before he answered.

- This... is an invasion. Damn, how did they get that?

Roman shrugged, his expression impassive.

- Spying, taking pictures, calling you the perfect couple... you know, the basics. Oh, and perfect couple was not exactly my opinion. This is Page Six stuff.

You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to contain the growing irritation.

- This is going to explode, isn't it? - You asked, already knowing the answer.

Roman snorted.

- Explode? This is already a supernova. Waystar's shares have probably risen ten points since this was published. Oh, and I bet dad is loving it.

Kendall finally took her eyes off her cell phone, her tense expression as she looked at you.

- I... I don't know how this happened. - He started, but you interrupted him with a look.

- How did it happen? Kendall, we are in the middle of the Mediterranean with your whole family, being observed as zoo animals. How do you think this happened?

He opened his mouth to answer, but Roman cut him off.

- My bet is: dad. I mean, he was just waiting for a good photo to turn this into a prime time soap opera. And, look, congratulations, you're rocking the main roles.

Kendall gave Roman an angry look, but said nothing. Kendall finally spoke, her voice lower, almost an outburst:

- That shouldn't have happened. Not like that.

Kendall murmured with her gaze lost on the horizon. The sun was already beginning to hide in the sea, but the tension that hung on the deck seemed to grow every second.

You sighed deeply, crossing your arms while facing the same sea, trying to organize the thoughts that insisted on exploding like waves.

- Well, now it happened. And it won't be easy to get out of this narrative. - Your voice sounded more controlled than you really felt. Taking the cell phone, he tried to make a call, but the device only indicated the lack of signal. You snorted. - Signal shit.

Without wasting any more time, she turned on her heels and began to climb the stairs with firm steps, determined to solve the situation in the most practical way possible. Kendall and Roman exchanged quick glances before following you, each with their own intention.

On the way, you almost bumped into Karolina, who was rushing down with the tablet in her hands. He took the chance to approach the woman:

- Karolina, I need a helicopter now. - Her voice had urgency, but it was measured, as if she were holding an explosion.

Karolina stopped at the same moment, her eyes widened by the surprise. She seemed to hesitate for a second before asking:

- Is everything okay with the baby?

The question, full of genuine concern, had the effect of a fuse. Kendall and Roman, who were right behind you, stoped immediately, as if they had witnessed something dangerous. You, on the other hand, closed your eyes for a second and took a deep breath before letting go:

- Karolina, if I hear one more word about this baby, I swear I'll start to believe that he is a direct heir to the throne of England. It's okay with him. I'm not well, but thanks for asking.

Roman held back his laughter, biting his lip and looking away to his cell phone, while Kendall gave his brother a warning look, who completely ignored.

Karolina, visibly disconcerted, took a step back.

- Sorry, I just... didn't mean to...

You sighed again, running your hand over your face, already sorry for the harsher tone.

- Sorry, Karolina. It's not up to you, I'm just a little... tired. - Your voice softened. - But I need to go back to New York. Can you get that for me?

Karolina nodded quickly.

- Yes, of course. I'll take care of it right now.

She walked away, relieved to leave the scene. As soon as she disappeared, Kendall continued to follow you.

- Why are you coming back now? - he asked, a tone of subtle frustration in his voice. - It will only give them more reasons to talk even more about you, about me...

You entered through the bedroom door and turned to face him, exasperated.

- Ken, I don't care what they're going to say. How long will this story last? One week, maybe less. - You opened the closet and started looking for something to wear, while continuing: - What I can't do is stay here. Staying at this damn dinner with Logan, pretending that all this wasn't just another step in his stupid plan to force us to be together.

Kendall leaned against the door frame, crossing her arms and watching you with an indecipherable expression.

- He can't force us to do anything.

You turned to him, incredulous.

- Oh, no? He managed to make Naomi leave and put us in this position where even a photo on the beach becomes a headline about the new generation of Roys. Do you really think this is not his work?

Kendall didn't answer right away, she just lowered her eyes for a moment, as if she didn't want to admit that you were right.

- Kendall, I'm exhausted. And all this is only making things worse. I need distance, even if it's just for a few days.

Kendall took a deep breath, as if she was processing what you said.

- Okay, if you think it's better this way...

- It's better for me. - You answered firmly, already separating your things.

Kendall didn't move from the door frame, even after the silence that indicated that the conversation should have ended. He stood there, as if he was internally debating something he couldn't say out loud. You noticed, but preferred not to pressure him.

As he put his things in the small suitcase he had taken, the sound of Kendall's heavy breathing seemed to fill the environment. Finally, he broke the silence.

- I'll go with you.

You stopped folding the dress that was in your hands and turned to face it, surprised.

- What?

- I said I'll go with you. - He repeated, his voice firm, although the look still hesitated. He uncrossed his arms and took a step into the room. - If you're going to get out of this circus, then I'll go too.

- Kendall, that's not... - You started, but he raised a hand to interrupt you.

- Listen, if I stay, I'll end up being dragged to some more Logan talk, plus some dinner where he makes me feel like a 15-year-old boy who only wants his father's approval. - He gave a short laugh, without humor. - At least if I go with you, I can pretend I have some control over my life.

You stared at him for a moment, trying to understand if he was serious. He looked like it.

- This will seem even more suspicious, you know that, right?

- Yes, I know. - He put his hands in his pockets and shrugged, the typical carefree gesture he used when he wanted to hide how he really felt. - But, honestly, I don't care anymore.

- What about Naomi? - You asked, your voice low.

He looked away, hesitating for a moment before answering.

- If she hasn't understood until now the kind of chaos that is my life... then maybe she will never understand.

The silence that followed was heavy, but not uncomfortable. You realized that he was really serious, and, as complicated as it was, there was something comforting in the idea of not facing all this alone.

- All right, then. - You said, going back to put your things away.

He smiled sideways, that typical smile of someone who is getting into trouble.

When Karolina returned with the confirmation that the helicopter would be ready soon, Kendall already had her things ready. Roman, who watched everything from the door, did not miss the chance to mock.

- Mom and Dad running away at sunset. That would be cute, if it wasn't so... pathetic.

While you were getting on the helicopter, he took one last look at the yacht. A mixture of relief and tension seemed to cross his face.

The flight to New York was silent. You kept the headphones, ignoring any attempt at conversation, and took advantage of the occasional naps to ward off the thoughts that insisted on invading you. Kendall, realizing his disposition, did not try to break the silence. The only constant sound was the slight buzz of the cabin.

Before landing, you made a point of organizing everything with Jess. Kendall would get off the plane minutes after you, to prevent the two from being seen together and feeding more sensationalist headlines. He agreed, with that same apathetic nod that didn't inspire confidence.

But, of course, the plan didn't last. As soon as he went down the steps and stepped on the track, flashes began to illuminate the dawn, turning the moment into a movie scene. Your heavy coat covered your body and, for a moment, you thought that the wool and leather barrier would be enough to create the distance you needed. Then, he felt his hand. The warm palm resting on the curve of his back was the sign that he was right there.

Kendall went down to your side, as if it were nothing, her shoulders relaxed, the expression of someone who was above the confusion you knew it would cause. The indignation was already starting to bubble in your chest, but you held it until you got into the car. And again, he contradicted the agreement. She entered the same vehicle as you, delivering to the media exactly what she wanted.

As soon as the car moved, you took off your sunglasses and stared at him in disbelief. He seemed indifferent, looking at his cell phone as if the tension next to him was non-existent. The silence in the car was dense, loaded with unsaid words, until the vehicle stopped in front of a building that you recognized immediately. It wasn't your apartment. Not even his. It was Naomi's.

Kendall looked up from her cell phone, the confusion evident in her expression.

- What... - he started, but you cut him off before he finished.

- Get out of the car, please.

He blinked, stunned, as if he had misunderstood.

- What?

- You heard. - His voice was firm, but there was something in his eyes that he noticed, even before you continued. - Kendall, I won't participate in this circus. I won't be the piece you use to make an impact on the media or your problems with your father.

- That's not it... - He tried, but you raised your hand, interrupting.

- So what is it? Do you want to do it right? I'll tell you how. Go up now and solve things with your girlfriend. Finish, explain, do whatever you want, but don't drag me into it while you don't have the courage to deal with the mess you created yourself. Because, I'll tell you something, Kendall: I don't deserve this.

His voice trembled a little at the end, but the hardness was enough for him to be silent. He looked at you, incredulous, as if he didn't recognize who was in front of him. You kept your gaze firm, ignoring the tightness in your chest that seemed to get worse with every second of hesitation.

Finally, he got out of the car.

The doors closed with a muffled sound, but the impact reverberated inside you. When the car started to move again, the tears you were holding began to roll. You turned your face to the window, watching the city lights mix with the water in your eyes.

Deep down, you knew you had done the right thing. Maybe it was the only way to solve that once and for all. But the loneliness that remained in Kendall's place was deeper than you expected, as heavy as the certainty that, at that moment, he had to choose: face the consequences or continue to hide from them.

______________________________________

Time passed with an unexpected speed, bringing subtle but profound changes. Since that definitive night, you and Kendall have kept emotional distance. The interactions were punctual, limited to the needs related to the baby. He, however, insisted on being present in other ways. Daily messages and frequent calls showed his effort, although he rarely crossed the line of what was strictly necessary - at least, not directly.

Between these attempts, he let out personal information, casually mentioning his relationship with Naomi. It wasn't something you completely understood, nor did you want to try. For you, it seemed like a strange, almost mechanical connection, that kept them connected for some reason that he never explained, and you never asked.

When the birth of his son approached, however, Kendall's posture changed. He stayed close, postponing appointments and abandoning any trace of his usual inconstancy. In the hospital, on the day of delivery, I was there next to you, visibly nervous, but focused. In the following days, he refused to walk away, insisting on spending nights at his house to help with the baby.

Those nights showed a side of Kendall that you didn't expect. The fragility he hid so well seemed to dissolve when he held the little one in his arms, cradling him in the silence of dawn. He had a patience that seemed to contradict everything you knew about him. And, no matter how much you resisted, it was hard not to feel something when you saw him so devoted to that role of father.

The months turned into two years, and the baby now walked and babbled his first learned words. During this time, Kendall's visits became frequent, almost natural. He wasn't just a present father; he seemed to want to prove something to you - and maybe to himself.

On Logan's birthday, when the elevator opened, and before you could hold it, your little son escaped from your hand, running through the wide and imposing corridors of Logan's apartment. His heart tightened for an instant, but his contagious energy and joy were irresistible, even when he escaped his reach.

- Dad! - his little voice echoed through the main room, full of guests and a buzz characteristic of any Roy family event.

Naomi was next to Kendall when she heard the child's voice. She saw the little boy with black hair and almond eyes cross the room until he grabbed Kendall's pants, which made the man look down with a smile that she rarely saw.

- Hey, champion! - Kendall said, bending down to take him in her lap with ease. - How are you, huh?

The boy gave a hot giggle, holding the fabric of Kendall's shirt with small and safe hands, as if that were the safest place in the world.

Naomi watched the scene with a neutral expression, but couldn't help but smile when she heard the boy's laughter. There was something disarming at that moment. For a moment, she even played with the little hand that held Kendall's collar, swinging it slightly while the boy let out more giggles.

But then she saw you. You appeared in the distance, crossing the room with firm steps, discreetly elegant. She wore a fitted dress, in a sober tone, combined with classic shoes and impeccable hair. You carried a presence that Naomi could not ignore.

You stopped in front of them and, with a polite smile, greeted:

- Naomi. - Her voice was calm and gentle, but there was an underlying firmness.

- Hello. - Naomi replied, trying to look relaxed, but feeling uncomfortable with the sudden proximity.

- Kendall. - You then addressed him, with the same courteous neutrality.

- Hi. - He replied, his eyes resting on you for a second longer than expected.

Before the silence became embarrassing, you turned your attention to the little boy on Kendall's lap.

- How about we congratulate Grandpa, huh? He's waiting for us. - His voice had an affectionate tone, which immediately attracted the boy's attention.

With an excited smile, he stretched out his arms to you, and Kendall handed him over without hesitation. The proximity of his hands while transferring it to you was brief, but loaded with something that Kendall felt and could not define.

Naomi noticed. She always noticed.

You went towards the other room, the little one in your arms, and Kendall watched for a moment before resuming the conversation with one of the guests. Naomi remained quiet next to him, but her mind was distant.

Later, feeling out of place, Naomi walked away from the party. Exploring the apartment, he found a quiet room decorated with classic furniture and book shelves that probably no one had ever touched. The walls were adorned with framed photographs. One, in particular, caught his attention.

It was a photo of you with Kendall and her son on the beach. The sunset light made the tones of the image shine in a soft gold. You were kneeling in the sand, helping the little one build an improvised castle, while Kendall was standing next to her, holding a blue bucket and smiling at the scene with a serene expression. There was something almost utopian in the image, a calm and simplicity that Naomi would never associate with the Roy family.

She stood still, staring at the photo, when she heard an unexpected voice.

- Nice picture, isn't it?

Greg's voice made her startle slightly. She turned around and stared at him. He was standing still, clumsy, but smiling, holding a glass of wine with both hands.

- I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. - He continued, not noticing her initial discomfort. - It's just that... well, that's rare, you know?

- What's rare? - Naomi asked, her voice calm, but with a touch of impatience.

Greg pointed to the photo with a movement of his head.

- They. I mean, Kendall and... well, his family. - He took a sip of the wine and continued, without noticing her expression closing. - You know, it's kind of unexpected, right? Seeing Kendall like this. Like, look at that. He seems... happy.

Naomi arched an eyebrow.

- Happy?

- Yeah. I mean, look at this! - Greg pointed to the photo again. - That's what people call "margarine commercial family". You know, those ads where everyone looks so... adjusted? I don't know, it's just... beautiful. Don't you think?

Naomi remained silent, diverting Greg's eyes back to the photo. There was a feeling of weight in her chest, something she didn't want to admit.

- Are you new here? - Greg asked, abruptly changing the subject, as if he suddenly realized that he was talking too much. - I don't remember seeing you before.

She gave a small smile, but there was something forced in him.

- Maybe. - She answered vaguely, wanting to avoid more conversation, but Greg seemed willing to continue.

- So, what do you think of old Logan? Intimidating, isn't it? - He gave a nervous laugh, trying to ease the mood.

- He's exactly what I expected. - Naomi said, dry, still looking at the photo.

Greg was speechless for a moment, but before she could try another approach, she took a step back, indicating that the conversation was over.

- Excuse me. - Naomi said, leaving the room before he could answer.

As she walked back to the main hall, Greg's comment echoed in her mind. "They form a beautiful family." The simple, almost naive words hit her in a way she didn't expect. She felt displaced, an intruder in something that seemed inevitably destined to solidify without her.

When returning to the main room, Naomi looked for Kendall with her eyes. When he found him, he let out a sigh, almost imperceptible, but full of exhaustion. He was next to you, next to the staircase that led to the rooms. You talked with a disconcerting lightness, and she noticed his soft smile in response to something Kendall said. It was probably something about your son and Logan, since they both looked in the direction of the two.

His son was on his grandfather's lap, with his small hands absently holding Logan's tie. He was already showing signs of drowsiness, his heavy eyelids starting to close, while Logan seemed more proud than ever, a rare trace of tenderness on his face always calculated.

Naomi looked away when you approached to catch the little boy, adjusting him in her arms with a naturalness that only habit and love could bring. It was the moment she took advantage of to walk to Kendall, who watched the scene with a slight smile on her lips.

- Ken, I'm a little tired. I thought maybe we could go now. - His voice was calm, but there was a hint of expectation.

Kendall turned to her, the smile disappearing, replaced by a polished neutrality.

- Oh, of course. - He hesitated for a second before continuing. - You can go, I'll stay a little longer. It's all right.

Naomi felt her heart sink for a moment. Before you could answer, you returned with the little boy asleep in your arms. He was heavy, and his plummy cheek was crushed against his shoulder. The long eyelashes rested on his soft skin, and he breathed with the quiet rhythm of someone who is completely safe.

Naomi forced a smile when she saw her approaching, but inside she felt a growing discomfort, an irritation that didn't make sense rationally. She knew you weren't to blame for the situation, but that didn't make it easier to contain the flame of frustration that grew in your chest.

- I'm on my way. - She said, the fake smile still on her face. Then, with a slightly sharper tone, he added: - But don't worry, Ken will stay a little longer.

You noticed the tension in the sentence and responded promptly, trying to dispel any discomfort.

- Oh, it won't be necessary, Ken. I'll put him to sleep, don't worry. You can go, if you want.

His voice was gentle, almost careful, as if each word was chosen to avoid friction. But Kendall, already bothered by the way Naomi had spoken, cut the conversation before she could continue.

- No, I'll stay. It's okay. - He said, the tone firm, although controlled. Kendall took a brief look at Naomi, then forced a smile at you, visibly trying to keep the balance in the situation.

You nodded without contesting, giving a small smile before walking away with calm steps. He went up the stairs, leaving the two to solve what was necessary.

Arriving at the guest room, you found the dark and quiet space, illuminated only by the soft light that came from the corridor. The little one slept soundly, his face serene, completely oblivious to the tension that hung downstairs.

Carefully, you bent over the mattress, trying to put him on the bed without him waking up. He took off his little shoes and fixed the uncomfortable details of his clothes, covering it with the soft blanket. For a moment, he remained there, watching him sleep, as if the simple act of looking could protect him from anything that tried to disturb him.

While you took a deep breath, seeking in the tranquility of that room a relief from the tensions of the day, Naomi adjusted her coat over her shoulders as she approached the elevator. The tiredness stamped on his face went beyond the wear and tear of the party, reflecting months of unresolved feelings that now seemed too heavy to ignore. She heard Kendall's footsteps behind her, but kept her gaze fixed ahead, as if gathering strength for what was to come.

- You don't have to accompany me. - Her voice came out firm, almost cutting, as if she wanted to end any conversation before it even started.

Kendall ignored the tone and continued walking to the elevator, pressing the button to go down. The silence between the two was oppressive, so dense that it seemed to consume the confined space as the elevator went down. When the doors opened in the parking lot, Naomi walked quickly to the car that was already waiting for her.

But before she could open the door, Kendall finally spoke, her voice full of frustration:

- What's going on with you? - He stopped a few steps away, crossing his arms in a defensive posture.

Naomi froze for a moment, her hand still on the car handle. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as if he was trying to contain an explosion. Then, he turned slowly to face him, his gaze sharp as a blade.

- Really, Kendall? Don't you have any idea?

He rolled his eyes, releasing a dry, almost cynical laugh.

- Look, if it's because of today...

- It's not just because of today! It's always, Kendall! - Naomi interrupted, anger finally overflowing.

Her tone echoed through the empty parking lot, and he frowned, visibly uncomfortable.

- That's not fair. - He countered, shaking his head as if he wanted to dismiss the accusations. - You know it's not like that.

She gave a bitter laugh, crossing her arms to protect herself from the cold - or maybe from it.

- Kendall, you're so blind that you don't even notice how she dominates you. - Her voice trembled, her eyes shining with tears that she refused to let go.

He raised an eyebrow, confused and clearly irritated.

- She's my son's mother, fuck! - He exclaimed, his voice louder than he intended.

Naomi took a step forward, pointing at him as if she physically wanted to make him understand.

- I know that! - She shouted, her voice even louder, reverberating through the space. - I know this better than anyone. But do you think that's all? You can't even look at her without... without something changing in you.

He blinked, taken by surprise, but soon tried to defend himself:

- That... that doesn't make any sense.

- Oh, no? - She interrupted, her eyes fixed on him, a mixture of hurt and fury. - You still love her, Kendall. And no matter how hard I try, how much I want it to work, I'm not her.

He opened his mouth to protest, but the words died before leaving. Because, deep down, he knew there was truth in her words. Naomi saw his hesitation, and that only confirmed what she already knew. She took a deep breath, trying to regain control of herself, but her voice broke as she continued:

- I'm not enough. I've never been.

- That's not true. - Kendall finally managed to say, although the conviction in his voice was weak.

- Don't try to convince me of that. - She replied, shaking her head. - Maybe you don't even realize how much she's still in you, but I notice. Every time you look at her. Every time you talk about her.

She looked away, her eyes now fixed on the floor.

- I deserve more than that, Kendall.

He took a step forward, the expression softening slightly.

- Naomi, that... it doesn't have to be like that.

She laughed without humor, shaking her head.

- But that's how it is. It always was.

The silence between the two was deafening. Naomi took a deep breath, trying to recover the little dignity she still felt she had. She took one last look at him, got into the car and closed the door before he could answer. The vehicle left slowly, disappearing in the darkness of the parking lot.

Kendall stood still, her hand running through her hair, her face tense with a mixture of frustration and guilt. Her words echoed in his mind. And, for the first time in a long time, he allowed himself to consider them.

The return to the apartment was immersed in thoughts, so much so that Kendall barely noticed the people around her. He didn't hear what a guest said when passing by him and completely ignored a comment from Greg in the hallway. When the elevator doors opened, he went straight to the room where he knew you were with your son, but stopped at the entrance.

The half-open door allowed him to see the little boy deeply asleep in bed, while you were sitting in a nearby armchair, your face serene and lost in thoughts. The soft light of the lamp made everything seem almost unreal, as if that scene belonged to a world he always wanted, but never knew how to reach.

He stayed there, just watching. Something in the silence, in the simplicity of the moment, seemed to break him in a way he didn't expect. When you noticed his presence, you looked up and met his eyes.

You knew something had happened. The way he kept his hands in his pockets, his shoulders slightly drooping, denounced this. Carefully, you got up and walked up to him, tilting your head towards the corridor. He followed you without saying a word.

Outside, the bedroom door remained ajar, forcing the two to speak softly. But even if it wasn't necessary, there was something in the atmosphere between you that made the words soft, almost hesitant.

- Is everything okay? - You asked, your voice low, but full of concern.

His eyes went up to yours, and for a moment, he didn't answer.

- Naomi looked upset when she left.

He let out a sigh, running his hand over his face.

- She finished everything.

You blinked, surprised, your forehead frowning slightly.

- Oh... Ken I'm sorry. Really. - His voice was sincere, but it also carried a caution that he noticed.

Kendall let out a short and humorless laugh.

- It's okay. I mean... it's not, but... - He hesitated, seeming to choose the words. - I kind of knew it was going to happen. Maybe I just didn't want to admit it.

You tilted your head, your eyes studying his face.

- Did she tell you something?

He looked at the floor, his shoulders tense.

- Yes. And do you know what's worse? It's just that she's right.

You were silent, waiting for him to continue.

- She said I've never really been there with her. That I was trying to fill a hole... and that part of me was still stuck in something else. - He paused, raising his eyes to find his. - She was talking about you.

Your heart seemed to stop for a moment, but you kept your serene expression, even though your hands were tight next to your body.

- Ken... - You started, but he interrupted you.

- I know. I know what you're going to say. That it's too late, that it doesn't change anything. But I need to be honest, at least once in my life.

You looked away, trying to organize your thoughts.

- And what exactly do you want to tell me?

He took a deep breath, the words seeming to weigh.

- That I think... that I never stopped loving you. And that it scares me like hell, because it means I spent so much time trying to get away from it... trying to get away from you. And I just ended up losing myself even more.

Your heart was racing, but you kept the tone steady.

- Ken, I don't know if... if this is something you really feel or if you're just trying to find something to hold on to now.

He shook his head, the clear frustration in his eyes.

- That's not it. I know it looks like it. But it's not. I just... I needed to say. I don't expect anything from you, I don't expect you to forgive me or that we go back to what we were. I just needed to get it out of me.

You were about to answer, but your son's sleepy voice interrupted the tense silence that hovered between you and Kendall.

- Mom... I want to go home. - He appeared at the door, rubbing his eyes with small fists, confused and still half lost between sleep and the real world.

Kendall's face changed instantly. All the tiredness and vulnerability he showed moments before evaporated, replaced by an expression that was difficult to describe: a mixture of tenderness and a softness that you rarely saw in him. Without hesitation, he went to the boy, bending down to stay at his height.

- Hey, champion. - He said, his voice low and comforting. - It's late, right? Shall we go back to bed?

The boy denied with his head, extending his arms towards his father. Kendall took him in her lap effortlessly, and you observed the way he held him, as if the boy were the center of a universe that he was still trying to understand.

Kendall's gaze crossed with his for a moment. There was something in his eyes, an unspoken question, or maybe a request. "Home," you knew, meant your apartment, not his. But still, the weight of that word reverberated on you. House. Something that seemed as unattainable as it was simple.

- All right. Let's go home. - Kendall replied, lightly squeezing the boy against his chest.

Before relaxing completely in his father's arms, the boy murmured, with a low voice:

- Can you read me a story today, dad?

For a moment, Kendall seemed to hesitate. Maybe it was a surprise, maybe it was something deeper, but soon he looked at you, almost seeking permission. You just nodded.

- Of course. - He answered, his voice loaded with a heat that looked new.

The boy sighed, resting his head on Kendall's shoulder, and the three went down the stairs in silence. The party environment was already almost empty, the sound of the conversations had turned into a distant murmur. You noticed how Kendall kept her son firmly in her arms, instinctively protecting him. It was a side of him that you knew existed, but that you rarely had the chance to see so clearly.

And then, as you expected, Logan appeared.

His smile was discreet, almost too subtle to be called a smile, but it carried that expression of victory that you learned to recognize. He looked at Kendall holding the boy and then at you, with a calculated glow in his eyes.

- It was great to have you with us today. - He said, while Márcia, next to him, nodded politely. - You have a beautiful family.

There was an instant when Kendall was simply silent. You saw his jaw muscles contract as you looked at your father. It was an internal battle that you knew well. Logan didn't make compliments for no reason, and the words, although said softly, carried the weight of a clear manipulation.

- I'm glad you made the right choice. - Logan continued, the paternal tone coated with something sharper. - That's what the boy needs. From a father. From a mother. You two together.

The silence became almost unbearable. You noticed that Márcia kept talking to you about something trivial, but her attention was completely focused on Kendall and his father.

Kendall finally spoke, and his voice was colder than you expected.

- That has nothing to do with you. - He said, looking directly into Logan's eyes. - I hope you know that.

Logan tilted his head slightly, as if he wanted to show false respect. But the smile was still there, like someone who knew that, in the end, things always went the way he wanted.

In the car, while you were returning to your apartment, the silence was almost palpable. Kendall kept the sleeping boy against her chest, her eyes fixed on the darkness beyond the window. You knew he was processing everything - his father's words, his, yours. And you were too.

His words still echoed in his mind. "I never stopped loving you."

You tried to push them away, but it was impossible. There was something in the way he said them, in the vulnerability he tried to mask and in the look he gave while he spoke. And then there was this side of him - Kendall who read stories to his son, who carried him as if he were the most precious thing in the world. You knew this side existed, but seeing it so present stirred something deep inside you, something you thought you had buried.

In the apartment, Kendall put the boy to bed carefully, the movements so delicate that they seemed to belong to a different person. You stood at the door, watching as he fixed the blanket around the small body and took the book that was on the bedside table.

The boy just muttered something incoherent before closing his eyes. Kendall, even so, started reading. His voice filled the space in an almost mesmerizing way, and you realized that you couldn't move. There was a tenderness there, a kind of love that he didn't know how to express otherwise, but that was there, undeniable.

Eventually, you left the room, but the image of him was engraved in your mind.

In his room, while changing clothes and getting rid of the annoying accessories, thoughts kept coming in waves. There was something in Kendall tonight that seemed... different. Or maybe it was you who was changing.

When he returned to the boy's room, already barefoot so as not to make noise, he found Kendall sleeping. He was squeezed in the tiny bed, uncomfortable, but completely oblivious to it. The book rested open on his chest, and the boy was nestled next to him, breathing quietly.

You approached, taking out the book carefully. Your hands trembled slightly, but you ignored it. He fixed the blanket on Kendall's legs, which were out, and, for a moment, stood there, looking at him.

The broken man, confused, but trying. Trying to be better. Trying to be something that maybe he himself didn't believe he deserved.

You turned off the lamp and left the room in silence, but the weight of that moment was with you. And maybe it would stay forever.

A/N: Another one from Ken because he's been my obsession lately, hehe. Hope you like it! masterlist xoxo, bee!

[circe69]

𝐓𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐈𝐧 𝐇𝐢𝐦 - 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐

narrative: you get kidnapped by graves, and ghost rescues you (in a very aggressive/sweet manner) part 1 warnings: mentions of kidnapping, injuries, blood, gunshots/guns tags: ghost bringing you coffee, being in tight spaces with him, sweet flirting/shameless flirting, talk of late-night meetings.

a/n: I have this idea of this version of Ghost being younger, maybe early 20's, having just entered the military. I like to think that before he became a "super killer", all he wanted to do was protect and save. And when you came along, I think he saw it as an opportunity to finally save someone who really needed him. In the comics, Ghost lost everything and everyone he ever had, and I like to think he'd find it worth his while to try and save someone again. Just one last time.

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You woke up that morning, drenched in sweat and tears soaking your striped pillow. It wasn't the best circumstances, waking up from a nightmare in a room you don't recognize. The weather wasn't helping either, dark storm clouds only a few hundred feet above you and rain causing a visible downpour outside your window.

You dreamt that Graves hadn't let you go, as if your brain was giving you the second option of "what if Ghost hadn't rescued you?" and gave it to you in full, gory detail. Every ounce of you felt disgusting, dirty.

Reaching out to touch your face, you pulled it back and smiled slightly at the lack of blood. Either it had dried up, or the tears washed it for you, flooding away all the revolting liquid that you wished wasn't there at all.

Turning the knob to enter your small room again, you opened the door and your jaw dropped at the sight before you.

Turning the knob to enter your small room again, you opened the door and your jaw dropped at the sight before you.

Turning the knob to enter your small room again, you opened the door and your jaw dropped at the sight before you.

Ghost.

Was sitting on your bed.

"What are you doing in here?" You screeched, crossing your arms over your shoulders in attempt to hide your bare chest.

He jumped up from where he sat on your bed, "I was waiting for you." His tone was quiet, not as stressed as you were. You were slightly thankful for it, the balance between the two of you was perfect, even if you'd never admit it to anyone else.

"Yeah well, I was in the shower."

His mouth stretched into a smile, showing his whitened teeth against his dark pink lips. "I know."

You felt your cheeks flush, and even though the statement should've caused you to tense more, you felt your shoulders relax and slowly drop from the cross they were in, your arms now resting on either side of you.

"Oh."

He sat back down on the bed, reading your face that was now comfortable and not as scrunched up as it was seconds before. One leg crossed over the other knee, and his hands folded together on his lap, fiddling with the small metal bracelet underneath his gloved wrist.

"How are you feeling? Did you sleep okay? Sometimes the AC-"

You interrupted his rambling, "I slept fine. Great actually." Even if it was a lie, in some way, you really did sleep better than you had in a while, feeling safe being underneath the same roof as Ghost. As crazy as it sounded, and maybe if you didn't even realize it yet, he was something you'd longed for, and had for quite a while. Just someone to stand behind, someone to watch first instead of doing everything yourself.

"You look great," he paused to clear his throat, "Better, I mean, then last night."

You smiled at his awkwardness. You could tell small talk wasn't his forte, but it made it better. More genuine, you thought.

"Thanks."

It wasn't until now that you realized you were still standing, dripping wet in a towel, with Ghost staring at you, and you staring back. It wasn't seductive, nothing in his dark brown eyes alluded to anything else except for "I'm glad you're okay."

"Well, I need to," you waved a hand at your towel-clad body, signaling you needed to get dressed. Ghost nodded, clearing his throat once more to clear the silence. "Right, well, your coffee is on the table in the break room. I'll be waiting in there for you when you're done." He made a fist and held it out to you. A fist bump?

You chuckled at his poor demonstration of the gesture, but secretly loved it. He might've been raised by wolves, you were sort of convinced he was, but the fact that he was trying was enough for you to want to do anything for him.

You bumped his fist back, trying to make yourself seem more enthusiastic than you really were, in some way you thought the act in and of itself was Ghost trying to do the same thing. It made things less scary than they were, and even though you were stuck in a nightmare last night, you wouldn't have wanted to be woken up to anything, or anybody, else.

🕊️ ┈┈┈┈ 🕊️┈┈┈┈ 🕊️

After getting dressed in clean, fresh clothes, that somehow smelled like Ghost, you made your way to the break room to grab your morning drink and hopefully get some answers about what you were even doing here.

To your surprise, everyone in the Task Force seemed extremely kind, so kind, in fact, that you thought something must be on your teeth or dirt on your clothes, and they're trying to make you feel better out of pity. But maybe that's just how they all are. Killers by night but sweethearts in the day.

You walked into the break room, the door squeaking upon entrance, and met face to chest with an extremely tall man. Looking up, you felt like you almost broke your neck just trying to make eye contact.

"Y/N, that's König, our best sniper," you heard Ghost get up from his seat and make his way over to you and the hooded beast standing in front of you.

"He's a bit shy, but he means good." Ghost said while patting König on his back, making him jump slightly. "Hello," you tried to say, making as small talk as possible. Not that you were scared, per say, but you wouldn't ever want to get on his bad side.

As König made his way past you and out of the break room, Ghost handed you a cup of hot coffee. "How did it stay hot this whole time?" You spoke, taking a long sip and closing your eyes at the warmth.

"Heated it up over the stove," he stopped to drink his, "It's better that way."

You pursed your lips together, humming in curiosity. "Hey, um, I had a few questions for you, or maybe someone else."

Ghost's eyebrows shot up through his mask, and he turned to lead you to a small, round table. "Ask away."

Clearing your throat, you were slightly nervous. This wasn't a parent-teacher conference, or a job interview. You were about to ask questions regarding the military, regarding your father. It was a big deal.

"Well, I remember you mentioning that Price, your captain, told you that my father put him up to the job of finding me," you began, rubbing a finger on the cold table.

"Yes, that's correct." Ghost said assertively. He was serious when it came to business matters, or maybe he was just serious when it came to you.

You scooted in, nervously placing your hands underneath your thighs. "Well, the strange thing is, I haven't spoken to my father in ye-"

All the sudden, the lights flicked off, and there were multiple gunshots from outside the break room.

"Y/N, get down." His voice was deep, quiet so that only you could hear it. You dove underneath the table, wrapping one of your hands around the leg. Ghosts' gun cocked as he walked up to the door stealthily. He opened it on his brain's command, perfect timing, always. Watching him walk out was like watching someone walk into a burning house. There was fire everywhere, bullets flying across the width of the door, passing him by just an inch every time.

"Ghost!" You screamed, making him turn around immediately. He walked in, shut the door, and threw the table off of you, picking you up into his arms. Just like he carried you to your room the night before, he ran you into the nearest closet and pressed you against the wall. You felt brooms and brushes poking your back, and they dug deeper as Ghost entered the small closet, closing the door behind him and caging himself around you, hands on both sides of your head.

He tore off his mask and slid it on your face, as a way to conceal you better. The smell of him was all you could think about, it surrounded every inch of you. "Please stay quiet." He whispered right next to your ear, making you involuntarily shiver. You nodded, and the only reason you could do that instead of responding with words was because he was so close, he could feel you nodding against his body.

He stayed like that, hovering only a few centimeters above you, chest flat against yours, until the gunshots stopped. What confused you the most was that he stayed with you, he didn't go out to kill all of the people who were trying to kill him. He was protecting you, back faced to the door, ready to give up his life for you.

You looked up into his eyes, and waited until he looked down into yours. They were careful, maybe scared, trying to find something to calm him down. Searching for something in yours to tell him that you're still here, and you're okay.

"I think it's safe to go out, Ghost." You whispered, scared to speak any louder. Not because of safety reasons, but because your personal bodyguard looked like anything above a whisper would make his head explode.

He removed his hands from the wall behind you, but gently put them back after a second and looked you in the eyes. "About your father, I know what you were about to say. And I know, you haven't seen him in years and it's impossible that he would even know where you are, s how-"

"Wait, so you knew about all of this?" You interrupted, slightly pushing Ghost away with a hand on his chest.

"Yes- well, it was a theory."

You weren't sure how to feel. If he had known, why wasn't he fixing it? Was he talking to people? Making sure you were safe?

"Well? Did you find anything out? Is it really just a theory or do you have information?" You crossed your arms across your chest, and popped a hip out, accidently landing a foot directly on top of his.

He smiled, "Easy, tiger," he kicked your foot off of his playfully and placed a boot on your sneaker. "I'm working on it."

"What does 'working on it' mean?" You pursed your lips together and raised your eyebrows, waiting for his response.

His hands left he wall for good, and he started to walk out when you realized the entire troop was out in the break room, congregating around a table and pointing at a digital map. You pulled Ghost back inside by his wrist, "What are you doing! They're gonna think we were up to something!"

He picked you up again while you were still mid-protest and kicked open the closet door, carrying you bridal-style into the break room.

"Well, well, well. Congratulations to the happy couple!" A Scottish man spoke, and you recognized him as the reckless driver from the night before. Soap, was it?

"Thank you, thank you, we're going to Hawaii for our honeymoon actually," Ghost said as he didn't even stop to talk to the rest of his team, and you slapped his chest for his comment. A few of the guys laughed, some just stared and smiled. As Ghost carried you out of the room, he set you down gently a few feet outside of the door into the main hallway of the base.

"Meet me in my room later tonight, say around, 10?"

You gasped, putting a hand over his mouth and looking around to make sure no one heard him. "Are you insane? Why in the world would I do that?" Your words indicated that you were fed up with everything about this man, but the smile on your face said otherwise. You were excited, exhilarated at the thought of sneaking out. You felt like a teenager again, like a little kid "escaping" from your mother when you see an old friend from across the grocery store.

"You want information, don't ya?" He said slyly. His British accent was always strong, but the Manchester in him really came out when he was shamelessly flirting with you.

You clicked your tongue a few times, "That's true, I suppose."

"Well, I suppose I'll be seeing you at 10 PM tonight." Ghost started to walk away, towards a meeting or a training session, you were sure.

"Isn't that awfully late?" You yelled to his back, taking a few small steps after him.

"You'd be there 'till around that time anyway, wouldn't ya?" He said from over his shoulder, and your cheeks flushed with hot fire. Your mouth opened, but you found no response to the statement that you knew was absolutely true.

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taglist! - @hauntingtherosebush @bunkvo @lialacleaf @lainphotography @ryunniez @mildlyhopeless

[lacyscabinet]

Willow Waly

A/N: okay so I'm not dead (to the people who asked me that in my inbox, I see you) 🙌🏻🤗 but I have no inspiration to write requests, I'm in deep emotional despair and I don't want this blog to slowly die soooooo enjoy this nat x ghost reader fic 🤍 the song I quote in the fic is "Willow Waly" if you don't know the song then you probably haven't seen the hunting of Bly manor (would recommend!!)👀👀👀 written in about 15 minutes while I was bawling my eyes out 🎀

Summary: reader is a ghost that hunts an old mansion in Wiskayok and Nat is dumb enough to break in and face her destiny :) also special thank you to Shauna for being an amazing narrative expedient :))))) (people with cars are cool @pinkmoonzzz)

Special thanks to @jollyreginaldrancher my favorite typo spotter 🤍🤍🤍

WARNINGS: death!, reader is dead, Natalie dies.

Enjoy 🤍🤍

"Isn't it violation of..."

"Shauna" Natalie said with a stone cold gaze, fiddling with the straps of her backpack while sitting in Shauna's passenger seat "That house is empty from like...a decade"

Parking her car at the side of the road, Shauna's head tilted and looked directly at Natalie "Yeah because of that story old people tell kids to scare them away" she chuckled "Scary ghosts"

Natalie's brows furrowed, she didn't know what Shauna was talking about at all "What?" she asked in confusion, causing Shauna to let out a big sigh "Guess I'll have to tell you the whole story then" she spoke with a fake mysterious tone, causing Nat to roll her eyes.

"A family moved there in the 70s, mother, father and daughter, I'm talking about rich ass people that ended up gambling all their money way, and, one night, the daughter was killed, they found out the parents did it, apparently she was dating someone and her parents didn't approve their relationship" she took a deep breath. "The legend says that the girl's ghost is still there attempting to kill everyone who gets inside the house to find herself a new lover" she finished off with a dramatic voice

"Damn" Nat exclaimed "Wiskayok has lore, who would've imagined" she said giggling before going back to her usual cold stare "I'm not scared, and it's a free place for me to stay, my father was a real asshole today" Natalie said as she opened the door and got up from her seat, turning on the torchlight and pointing it in the mansion's direction.

"I told you you could stay at my place" Shauna scoffed.

Natalie just shook her head, it didn't matter how much her friend insisted, she couldn't help but feel like her presence would intrude. So she just plastered a small smile on her lips and a wave of hand before closing the door "Thanks for the ride Shauna"

And now that Shauna was driving away, she was alone.

Walking towards the ruined wooden door, she could hear the porch cracking under her feet, screeching and almost crumbling under her weight.

Once the door was reached, she opened it with ease, multiple years of sneaking into places led her to mastering her bobby pin tecniques.

And the second the door was halfway open, she immediately realized that she was wrong, the house wasn't empty at all, several pieces of furniture and decorations still adorned the inside, covered in dust and cobwebs, carrying signs of the time passing while everything remained still and frozen in time, untouched.

That's when the unsettling feeling kicked in.

Taking a last look outside, she started to think that maybe it wasn't a good idea, but what was left for her outside? a bridge? a street? the trailer?

The allegedly haunted house seemed more welcoming than any of the above.

So she closed the door behind her.

Deciding to explore the remains of the house, she felt like she was transported back in time, the calendar dated back to 1975, and after entering the huge kitchen, she didn't fail to notice the old toaster and other visibly dated furniture.

Until her eyes landed on something. Something she wished she never saw.

"Holy shit" she whispered, looking at the knife holder, noticing one single big kitchen knife missing.

It sent chills down her spine, especially after what Shauna told her, so she backed up and decided to go upstairs and find a place to get some rest, trying to ignore it, it's not real anyways, or at least that's what her mind kept telling her.

Turning around, she noticed a big fancy wooden staircase that headed upstairs, old and dirty blue carpet guiding her way up as she cautiously walked up the stairs, noticing the little intricate details.

And then.

Blood.

Big stains of blood caught her attention as she reached the second floor, her breathing grew heavier as she thought about whatever it could be, some animal hunting a prey and leving traces behind?...in Natalie's mind it made sense. After all it was just a legend. Right?

But as her eyes shifted she started noticing that the blood trailed from the top of the stairs to a closed rusty door.

She was already inside the house, curiosity taking over, the urge to explore was too much, she didn't believe in ghosts anyways, but the thought of exploring a crime scene was thrilling enough to convince her to go further.

So she took a couple of steps foreward and opened the door. Instantly regretting it, eyes meeting an unmade and messy bed on the wall right opposite to her, her eyes immediately landing on the sheets, they were almost completely covered in blood.

Natalie gasped in horror, torch falling on the ground and her trembling hands reaching up to cover her mouth, wide eyes darting away from to obscene sight and a grimaced expression written all over her face.

And then she heard it, a soft mumble, a hum, a weak broken whisper echoing both in the room and in her terrified mind, it took her a while to realize that it came from upstairs.

The attic

She didn't understand why, almost as her feet started moving on their own, she found herself climbing up the tiny ladder at the end of the corridor, pushing open the small door on the ceiling and finally reaching the attic.

Now she could hear it vividly, someone was singing, but even there, she couldn't see who it was, some old boxes blocking her view.

" We lay my love and I beneath the weeping willow, but now alone I lie and weep beside the tree..."

The stranger's voice trembling and on the verge of tears, almost sobbing.

"Singing oh willow waly by the tree that weeps with me, singing oh willow waly till my lover return to me..."

Nat's hands trembled, curiosity replaced by fear and fear replaced by terror in a matter of seconds.

"We lay my love and I beneath the weeping willow, a broken heart I have, oh willow I die, oh willow I die"

The stranger kept singing. Louder.

Taking a deep breath Natalie quickly got back to the second floor, not even hesitating for a second and immediately sprinting out and running for the door, the creature's chants echoed throughout the whole house, making Nat's head spin as panic filled her whole body, almost making her legs give out as she ran down the stairs.

"Singing oh willow waly by the tree that weeps with me, singing oh willow waly till my lover return to me..."

Finally she could see the door, finally grasping onto some hope, but of course it didn't last long. Because as soon as she tried to open it just like she perviously did to get in, she relized that it wouldn't budge. It was locked.

Curses left her mouth as she kicked and threw fists at the door, her only result a bruise on her knuckles.

Tears of frustration streaming down her face as she started to feel a presence getting closer and closer to her, hunting her down and refusing to let her go.

Then, all of a sudden all the rage, the panic, the desperation and the misery she felt were replaced by a feeling of extreme emptiness and coldness, she felt lighter as if her body was slowly detaching from her soul, even though she swore she didn't take acids that night.

And then she heard it. Closer then before.

"We lay my love and I beneath the weeping willow, a broken heart I have, oh willow I die, oh willow I die."

[viktoriaashleyyx]

Chapter 2 is here!

This is a pro Tamlin, anti Rhysand self insert revenge fic. All characters belong to SJM, but she wasn't treating them right. Tam x reader, Tam x Rhysands Sister (OC), First person narrative. This will also reference Elucien and Neris in the future but we aren't there yet.

This one is mainly fluff.(?) (I am not sure what tw to put on this) mutual bathing. Making out. They accept the mating bond, no smut that's next.

I would love to hear any criticisms.

Ch1 Ch3

Chapter 2:

We sat there for a long while, until we were interrupted by the grumbling of his stomach. I looked up at him with wide doe eyes “you're hungry.” Not a question. We never got a chance to accept the mating bond before I left, and I remembered this tradition. I scoured the realms and planned what meal I would prepare for him first. I learned how to cook the best meal of every town I had visited. I knew exactly what I wanted to prepare for him and had even packed the ingredients in my bag. I had held all hope that I would finally make it home and I was right.

“You don't need to worry about that.” he breathed, his strong arms still wrapped around me.

“It doesn't have to mean anything if you don't want it to, you have to eat. But if I am being honest I have looked forward to this meal since the day the bond snapped into place.” I consoled him.

“I am no longer the man I was when you left. Amarantha, Feyre, Hybern and Lucien have broken me.” His arms finally released me and he pulled away. The pain in his eyes, he was utterly alone here and he believed he deserved it. “I am a monster, now, Sky.”

Good, I've developed a monster fucking kink. No wait, now is not the time to say that thought out loud. I grabbed his face in my hands and looked him in the eye “Do you still have love in your heart for me?”

“Always. I would die for you. I would burn this world to the ground to find you again, now that I know you're alive.”

“But would you live for me? Would you heal, and rebuild? Would you face and confront your traumas and mistakes, and atone for those you hurt in the interim? Would you rebuild your, no, our court and work to regain the trust of our people?”

His emerald eyes looked deep into mine before he muttered a soft “yes, all of it.”

“I will accept nothing less. You are good, you are kind. I know your heart. You are deserving of love. Allow me the right to make my own decisions. Now I am going to make you food.”

He didn't argue any further, just looked in my eyes, searching, as if waiting for the punchline, waiting for another cruel joke. What has my horribly cruel brother done to him? “I love you, Tamlin. I always have. I am home now, please allow me the pleasure of proving it to you.” I spoke softly, burying my face in his neck holding him once more. He embraced me again and I could feel a few tears dropping onto my shoulder.

“I’ve missed you so much,” Tamlin admitted with a raspy broken sigh. I looked at him, with star bright eyes and a wide smile.

“So you agree? I am home? And you will let me make you food, knowing what it means?” almost too excited, I asked with a big smile. His face relaxed and he allowed himself an amused half smile.

“If you wish, I will gladly accept.” Relief poured from his voice.

“Yay! Now help me clean the kitchen so I can cook, I have all the ingredients in my bag here.” I requested, no, commanded excitedly. With a wave of his hand the kitchen was spotless. “If you are able to do that, why is the manor such a mess?” I scolded.

“I missed the last Calanmai, and the one before that Lucien stood in for me.” he answered, “it's been a rough few years. My power is dwindling.”

“We are gonna have to fix that, aren't we?” I said bluntly. He took a seat at the small table in the middle of the kitchen and watched as I prepared to make him the best stew I had ever had. “You have a lot on your mind, speak freely as I cook, I will keep my questions limited.”

“I killed her.”

“Who? Amarantha?” I asked, he nodded his head. I put the knife down and walked over to him, wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him deeply. “I am so proud of you.” He looked at me like he hadn't heard those words in a very long time, it broke my heart.

I returned to the stew, “I could never hurt your brother. If he were anyone else, I would've killed him a long time ago, but he was the closest thing I had left of you. He died in the hybern war, and through everything I should've left him. His mate, my ex, Feyre destroyed my court and I knew that if it had been me laying there no one would've batted an eye. Feyre screamed and pleaded for me to revive him. I almost had the strength to walk away, for 300 years I mourned you, I will admit I had lost hope of you ever returning. But that hope sparked one last time and I revived him. I told her to be happy, but it was for you.” I had so many questions, stories we would need to catch up on, but that's not for now.

“You should've let him rot.” my response was gentle enough, brother or not, Rhysand was a selfish brat who never utilized his daemati powers for anything that didn't get him what he wanted. A spitting image of our father. “But you've always had a kinder heart than me, Tamlin.”

He released a sad chuckle at my words as if to say ‘I know.’ “The lady of Autumn had the baby all our mothers were stressing about, Lucien, he became my closest friend. And yes, he did look like Helion.”

“No” I gasped.

“And Beron knew it. He treated him cruelly and dropped him at my border. I took him in almost 200 years ago. It's only recently with the events of Amarantha and Feyre that he's left, but he stops by every now and then. If a male with long red hair and a golden eye stops by, don't hurt him.”

I giggled “so you do remember me well. Thank you for the heads up.” I poured him a bowl and sat it in front of him. He held my gaze for a minute, still in disbelief. Any hope he did have when he woke up this morning, couldn't compare to what is happening now. He slowly picked up the spoon and began eating.

“This is delicious, what kind of meat is this?” He asked between bites.

“Bear.” I answered.

He was filthy, his hair matted and his clothes ripped. As he ate I grabbed a wooden hairbrush I found and began to work out the knots, gently. He savored every bite and when he finished, he leaned back almost to show how good it felt and to allow me to finish detangling his long blonde hair. When I was done I pulled his head back ever so slightly just to leave a kiss on his forehead.

He took my hand, guided me around to face him and pulled me onto his lap straddling him. “Thank you, it's been a long time since I've felt a gentle caring touch from anyone. It means more than you realize.” He admitted, but I could tell, he was holding back, putting on a strong facade. He needed me just as much as I needed him, that much was true.

“Good thing I have no intention of letting you go anytime soon.” I breathed, my eyes drifting from his to his lips. I had always heard that men go absolutely feral by this point, does he not want me? Why is he being so cautious? I leaned closer and he got the hint. His lips met mine, gentle at first, his gorgeously muscled arms wrapped around my waist. I bit his bottom lip playfully, and he smiled, amused. He deepened the kiss, his hands traveling up my back to pull me closer, my hands tangling themselves in his gorgeous blonde hair. I pulled away, “You could use a bath first.”

He grunted “you're probably right.” Most would take offense to this, but he knew me, he knew my blunt outbursts were merely observations and meant nothing more. Generally, he found them amusing. He once explained to me that he hated having to guess everyone's thoughts and moods all the time, he's not a daemati, and my willingness to admit what I was thinking, so clearly and straightforwardly, was a breath of fresh air for someone growing up in a royal home.

He led me up the stairs to his chambers. My attention wandering from the destruction around me, to the beautiful strong hand holding mine. As we entered the large room he called his, I was taken aback in pure astonishment of what hung over his bed. My mouth gaped open as I stared at the painting. “Just the rumors of your artwork has gotten me into a lot of trouble. I’ve never let anyone else in here.” There, hung above his bed was the picture I had painted of my own wings. I spent weeks, no, months perfecting it until it looked like my actual wings were encapsulated in the canvas. He had always complimented them and when I started to excel in my art, he requested this specifically. Most days he would sit next to me and point details out and give me direction and praise.

“You still have it.” was all I was able to mutter.

“Why would I ever get rid of something so perfect?” he smiled at me. I shook myself out of awe and tried to focus. Bath, that's right.

“Do the hand waving and clean this room too,” I demanded as we entered the connected bathroom. A large white tub with golden clawed feet sat in the middle, and I searched through the cupboards for the soaps and oils. I tried to divert my gaze as he undressed and climbed into the warm water he had conjured. I would say every inch of him was sculpted by the gods, if I hadn't met the gods and realized what ridiculousness they actually engaged in. “Now dunk under and wet your hair so I can wash it.” I sat at the head of the tub, scrubbing shampoo into his scalp and massaging oils into the length. He purred in approval. This is everything I have wanted, to take care of him, and for him to care for and protect me. I hated the fighting, the battles, the training and being dirty and covered in blood that wasn't mine. I was good at it, but every night I would lie down and dream of my life at the Spring court. I would dream of having a big comfy bed, a daily bath, and his arms wrapped around me. I wanted to spend my days painting, dancing, singing or just annoying him while he completed trivial tasks only he deemed important.

He rinsed the soaps out of his hair and drained the water. I was still lost in my thoughts of what I had missed, had I truly gotten it back? He wrapped a towel around his waist and helped me to my feet. I stood before him and looked up at him, hoping the wonder and love I was feeling translated to his understanding. “Thank you, my love, you have helped me feel like I'm worth something again,” he admitted, looking down to me and running a gentle hand along the side of my face. He was so much taller than me. “I think it's your turn.”

True, I don't remember the last time I was able to bathe properly. He re filled the bath with slightly hotter water this time, and I began to peel off the layers of leather and chain I had collected off the monsters I killed. He turned his gaze out of respect and I giggled.

“Am I really that bad to look at?” I teased giving him a sly smile. “You can drop the gentleman act, I know you want to look”

He gave me a cautious smile, his gaze fixed on my eyes “forgive me love, the shock is still settling, it all seems to be happening so fast… but I don't want it to slow down.”

“3 centuries of waiting is too fast?” I teased as I lowered myself into the hot bath. I sighed as I cherished the feeling. I grabbed a rag with some soap and started scrubbing my face, working my way down. He took my place at the head of the bath and began carefully undoing the intricate braids I kept my black hair in to preserve the length that touched my waist and keep it out of the way. I finished scrubbing my body down and leaned my head back, enjoying the feeling of his gentle hands massaging the shampoo into my scalp. I always loved my men with long hair because that meant they knew how to help me care for mine. It was as if we were washing the past 300 years off eachother, to start anew. As he finished I dunked my head under and he reached for my wings.

He grabbed a fresh washcloth, wet it and added a small amount of soap and oil. He carefully stretched out my wing as I allowed him and began running the warm rag across the entirety of the dark sensitive skin. My eyes rolled back, I could climax just by this feeling alone. No one, save for him, has ever been this gentle with me. I let out a soft sigh and opened my eyes to catch his. He stood next to me, soft towel in one hand, the other extended to guide me up and out. I took his hand and stood up, I tripped getting out and fell straight into his chest. We both giggled as I corrected my footing but not pulling away. His hands rested on my back holding me up.

His loving and amused face turned to concern. “It's been so long, my love, I don't know if I can hold back if I loosen my restraint. I want you so badly, but I don't want to hurt you.”

I smiled and pulled his head down closer to whisper in his ear “I like it rough.”

And with that he wrapped his hands around my waist and picked me up, I locked my legs around him and kissed him, hard and passionately, as he carried me over to the bed.

♡♡♡♡♡

Tag list: @ladythornofrivia @rin-u-pos @rcarbo1

Lmk if you want to be added to the taglist.

[luminousbeings-crudematter]

I can have my favourite bed time story which is " one of the 141 is picking me up at the hotel bar/ already in the airport and oh look at that we are in the same hotel" bonus points to my brain when it goes into unhinged territory, bc it's not at all a coincidence that you both stop at the same hotel. You are just to nice of a distraction to let go for now

see i love this, because Ghost and Soap fit into this deranged narrative by default, but you know who would really masterfully orchestrate a meet-cute after meticulous planning?

He makes you nervous, and you don't know why.

He's cute. His hat and headphone combo make him look young and approachable and hip, and it doesn't hurt that he smiles so wide that deep, gorgeous smile lines appears around the corners of his eyes. You should be counting your lucky stars - you've got the company of this heart throb on your 7-hour flight...but your instincts tell you that something's not right. You ignore them.

He talks to you a lot - asks you so many questions about yourself that you're starting to think of this as a date - but he's equally as generous on information about himself: Gaz. Army. Special Forces. The real special forces, he smiles mischievously. Going back home for a few weeks.

You end up telling him about yourself too. Went to Uni in the UK, so you're back now that you can afford to properly do the touristy stuff. He recommends a few cities and you thank him profusely - ever grateful to have recommendations from a local. When he jokes about happily being your tour guide, you laugh and brush him off.

He's kind enough to wake you up when the flight attendants arrive with lunch, you think you're going to die when you realise you'd fallen asleep on his shoulder. He waves your apology off immediately. You have lunch together and it does feel like a date. He's respectful and kind and funny, he listens intently, asks meaningful questions, and he's pretty.

You part ways at immigration. He wishes you the best of luck with your troubles, and you tell him to keep out of it. No promises, he responds easily. (You're disappointed when he doesn't ask for your number, but it's fine, you tell yourself. No point anyway. He's home to relax and you're going to be touring the country.)

So imagine your surprise when he's at the hotel breakfast buffet the next morning. You walk up to him tentatively, hands clammy. Did he...follow you? No. No, that can't be right, you never told him where you were going. But then? Coincidence? Has to be, he doesn't seem the creepy type.

He seems genuinely surprised to see you, and your doubt dissipates a little.

You end up having breakfast together, and he tells you how he'd completely forgotten that his mum was away. He's a bit shy, clearly uncomfortable as he admits that he'd found being in the house by himself a bit quiet, too lonely, and had checked himself into the closest hotel he could.

You're skeptical, but you believe it just enough for him to successfully convince you that - now he's got nothing to do but wait for his mum to return - he really wouldn't mind showing you around, actually! It's his city after all, and you do want that authentic city experience that only a local could give you, don't you? Ah, the tourist-y spots are all overdone and gauche, love, he'll show you the real city.

Three nights of playing tour guide and bodyguard and boyfriend, and he's sinking into you in your hotel room, one he's effectively moved into.

Been waiting for my cock in your greedy little cunt, yeah? Know you've been touchin' yourself to me every night. So fuckin' tight, love, you've been keeping her tight for me? Been months since you've let anyone in her, have you been waiting for me?

[searchingsomewhere]

All Too Well: Cursed Narrative, 14

{"And I don't know what I'm cryin' for. I don't think I could love you more."}

Cursed Narrative Masterlist

Part 13

poly!Gojo x OC x Geto

I like to think of Satoru as being the embodiment of "touch her and die".

-Nero

CW: Some spice.

Miho fastened her earrings in place. The hotel lights around the bathroom mirror were blindingly bright, glinting off the simple gold chain around her neck. The deep red of the silk dress she wore stood out against her pale skin, complimenting her hair and eyes. Miho bit her lip at her appearance, smoothing down the silk fabric around her stomach. She actually really liked the way the dress hugged her shape in a flattering way. It was both just form fitting enough and not too tight. She fiddled with the neckline nervously. It wasn't a plunging v neck, but it certainly showed more cleavage than she was used to. Her high heels clicked against the tile as she walked out of the bathroom.

Suguru, dressed in a flowy shirt and high waisted pants, was helping Satoru with his black tie. Inky dark hair fell down his shoulders. Satoru had his head tilting back, muttering something about ties being useless. The white haired Sorcerer wore a black dress shirt and slacks, her favorite look on him.

"The strongest man in the world and you can't tie a tie," Suguru muttered, tugging the tie into place.

Satoru rolled his eyes, glancing over at Miho. "I don't need to- Oh."

Suguru looked over at her. His hands slowed to a stop. Both men raked their eyes over her body, clinging to her curves. Miho's face flushed and she bent down to dig in her suitcase for her clutch.

"D-Don't stare," she scolded them, "It's embarrassing."

"You look amazing," Satoru said, kissing her quickly on the cheek.

Suguru said nothing, instead prying his eyes away from her to finish Satoru's tie. His lips were pressed into a line. He avoided her gaze, moving to sit in the chair by the end of the bed.

"The plan," he said, shifting the conversation to the reason they were there. "Let's go over it again."

"Right," Satoru said, "How many of them are here?"

"They're all trying to suppress their Cursed Energy, but I can sense at least eight Curse Users throughout the conference hall."

Satoru and Miho would appear in the Conference hall with the other members of Jujutsu society, making appearances. Miho wiped her sweaty hands on her dress as they approached the door. Satoru took her arm confidently, smiling down at her as he pulled his blindfold into place.

"Nervous?" he asked.

"Yes," she admitted. The entire plan put her on edge. And on top of all that, coming and going together in front of all of these people...the rumors that would start...

"It'll be fine," Satoru said gently, "Just focus on the mission. I'll take care of everything else."

She nodded, stepping through the double doors. The main conference area was filled with other Sorcerers. Some of them she recognized from the school, like Yaga, Mei Mei, and others. Shoko raised her glass to them from across the room, fitted in a lovely black dress. Miho smiled and waved to her. All eyes landed on them. Or, on Satoru, that is. She understood how it looked. The Six Eyes with the Sealing Sorcerer. The best addition to the Gojo clan. Her hand tightened around his arm. Even if she was interested in having biological children, they would never feel the weight of this room the way she did.

Conferences like this were mainly an excuse to talk politics. Miho had never been interested in that the same way Satoru was. Being the man he was, it was a good opportunity to throw his political weight around, slowly changing the way Jujutsu society worked in the ways he wanted it to. He happily chatted with a few other gentlemen, hand sliding around her waist. Everyone had heard of the attack. Miho waved away their sympathetic looks with a sheepish smile.

"How's the stab wounds?" Shoko asked, smoke puffing out her mouth as she leaned forward to inspect Miho's stomach.

"Like it never happened. You're truly amazing," Miho said, hugging her.

"I'm just glad you're alright," Shoko said, "Don't ever let me get another call like that, okay?"

"I'll try."

Shoko offered her the dark drink in her hand. Miho took it and drank it quickly. It was whiskey. The burning made her cough slightly, but took the shakiness from her hands.

The phone in her clutch buzzed. Miho checked it quickly. Suguru's name flashed across the screen.

They're on the move.

She snapped the phone shut and dropped it in her clutch, leaning over to interrupt Satoru's conversation. Miho bowed her head respectfully, apologizing.

"I'm so sorry, but I'm stepping out for a bit to check on the veil. I'll be back."

Satoru nodded to her with a smile.

There were six seals located around the conference building, all emitting a veil to keep Cursed Users out. It would be normal for her to slip out to check on them. When she had checked them earlier in the day, Miho had found all but one of them had the requirement to keep out Cursed Users. Suguru was waiting for her in the back hallway. He nodded to her. With the sheer amount of energy in the room, as long as he didn't use any technique, he'd be invisible.

Suguru walked ahead of her, keeping her behind him. "They must have gotten a signal you two were here."

"You think they're targeting us?"

He pulled a knife from his pocket. "I think they're targeting you to get to Satoru."

Miho swallowed thickly, following him down the hall.

"Let's dispatch them quickly, then."

----

"Zenin, you old bastard," Satoru said casually, throwing his arm over the older man's shoulders. "How's Megumi? Oh, wait, I forgot you don't have custody."

The old man, Naobito Zenin, scoffed, shrugging him off. "You seem awfully jolly this evening, Gojo. I heard about Miho. It's a shame what happened."

Hot anger flashed through his veins. He could kill that old bastard right there. No doubt he'd have to kill everyone else in the room. Taking out the head of one of the most powerful clans wouldn't come without consequences. He could do it, though. Satoru kept his face neutral, instead nodding in agreement. "She's a trooper, that's for sure. You should have seen the look on the guy's face when I caught him."

"Hopefully you taught him a lesson," Naobito said evenly.

"I did. But you know," Satoru said, leaning down to speak closer to the old man's ear, "After the first few fingers went, he started speaking some interesting nonsense."

Naobito was silent at that.

"So, I have a little proposal for you, Naobito," Satoru continued, turning to face the rest of the conference. Even from his position towards the back of the room, he could spot several Zenin family members mingling. Miho's cursed energy flared up suddenly from somewhere in the building.

"And what's that?" Naobito said, nose in the air.

Satoru leaned closer to him. The air inches from Satoru grew thick. He had to keep himself in check. Any more, and the whole room would grow wise to what he was doing. Naobito stiffened. His crossed arms shook, unable to move. Just a little tighter. The older man grunted softly from the pressure of being squeezed a little too tight.

"If you ever touch Miho or Megumi again," Satoru said lowly, "I'll kill every single person in the Zenin clan."

"P-Preposterous," Naobito coughed.

"And I'll save you for last. So you can watch thousands of years of Jujutsu tradition die out in a single night."

Satoru sat up, releasing the old man from his hold. Naobito began to cough violently.

"You- You dare threaten me-" Naobito raised his voice.

Satoru tugged one corner of his blindfold up, peering at him with a glowing, raging eye.

"I'm warning you. As a favor. Next time there will be no warning."

Naobito opened his mouth, but closed it. His hands tightened into fists. Satoru turned to walk away. Over his shoulder, he said,

"Oh, and by the way. Miho's taking care of your friends."

----

Back in the hotel room, Suguru sat down in the chair by the bed while she went to the bathroom. It was probably a little suspicious that she never returned to the conference, but Satoru's story would cover her absence. For all they knew, renewing seals and veils were awfully tiresome. Miho took out the clips keeping her hair up, letting it fall down her shoulders. Renewing seals wasn't nearly as exhausting as burning talismans with Cursed Users trapped inside. That was the only way to take care of them without causing a stir.

She reached behind her to unzip her dress. Her fingers barely brushed the zipper. Goddammit, she sighed and reached around a different way. It somehow seemed even further down from that direction. How the hell did I do it earlier? Finally she huffed, sliding out of her shoes to walk out into the room. Suguru looked up at her, surprised. He was sipping from a glass of whiskey.

"Can you unzip me?" she asked, looking down at her hands.

He nodded and set the glass down. Instead of giving her time to turn around, he simply pulled her between his legs. Miho bit the inside of her lip as his hands ghosted her hips, searching for the zipper. Sitting up, he was eye level with her bust. Hazel eyes flickered up to her and way.

"F-further back," she stuttered.

He moved closer, so close she could feel his breath brush against her skin. Finally he found it, pulling it down just enough for her to reach it. Okay, now turn and walk away. Her feet wouldn't move. Planted right where she was, between his legs, goosebumps raising on her skin from his breath. He waited a moment, hands on his knees. Inquisitive eyes looked up at her. Miho swallowed. What am I doing?

"Miho," he said quietly.

His breath was so close to her. Just inches. Suguru lowered his gaze, tracing the curve of her breast. She was swaying. Miho placed a shaking hand on his shoulder.

"You've barely spoken to me all night," she said.

"I don't want to say something I'll regret," he said.

"Like what?"

"...That you look beautiful in this dress," Suguru said quietly. His lips gently ghosted the valley of her breasts. Miho's heart jumped and she gripped his shoulder tight. Against her skin, he added, "...Or the things I'd do to see you out of it."

A breathy sound left her at his confession. Lost for words, she only bit her bottom lip as his lips trailed down, pressing against her breast. His tongue darted out, trailing just under the neckline of her dress. Suguru looked up at her through lidded eyes, darkened with something that made her heart thump loudly. His hands wandered up her legs, massaging her hips. Watching her, he moved his mouth to tease her clothed nipple with his teeth until it pressed pointed through the silk. Miho moaned quietly, fingers tangling in his hair.

"I..." she started hesitantly.

Suguru raised his head, hands moving to her waist.

"One word, and this stops," he said huskily, "All you have to do is tell me no, Miho."

But she couldn't. She wanted it. Wanted him. So desperately now, standing so close, with his mouth pressed against her. Breathing hard, Miho cupped his face in her hands. She leaned down, pressing her lips to his.

[inevitablysomber-dark]

Butterfly (Chapter 1)

Dark! Topper x Reader (Nicknamed Butterfly)

Warning: This story delves into emotional turbulence, exploring themes of intense heartbreak and characters navigating complex feelings. It includes depictions of infidelity and betrayal within romantic relationships, addressing mature themes such as trust issues and personal growth. Substance use, particularly alcohol, is portrayed in contexts that may be unsettling. The narrative centers on a dark romance with potential toxic dynamics, where characters face internal conflicts and external challenges. Series Masterlist

Thinking back to the day I officially met Topper, it all started at one of Cynthia's fancy gatherings. My family owed Cynthia a huge debt of gratitude. She had believed in us when our business was struggling, and thanks to her support, we now had a successful enterprise on Figure 8 that was quickly expanding nationally, living among the other Kooks.

Cynthia approached us with a smile that seemed a touch forced amidst the lively party chatter. "Butterfly, dear!" she exclaimed, her voice cutting through the buzz of conversation. "I'd like you to meet my son, Topper."

Standing beside his mother was Topper—tall, handsome, but with a hint of tension that didn't quite match his charming smile. I was aware of the rumors circulating the island—his recent split with Sarah, the Kook Queen, over her fling with a Pogue named John B. It seemed unlikely he'd be eager to play tour guide around his family's estate. Sensing his hesitation, I offered him an easy way out.

"You don't have to," I said gently, trying to be considerate.

Topper looked genuinely taken aback. "Why wouldn't I want to show you around?" he responded, a trace of amusement in his voice despite the sadness I sensed earlier. He reached out his hand towards me. "I'd be happy to show someone as lovely as you around our place."

His unexpected warmth caught me off guard, and I couldn't help but smile. Taking his hand, I nodded, "Alright then, lead the way."

The tour of Topper's home was more extensive than I had anticipated, and I couldn't help but be impressed by the immaculate surroundings. Topper seemed genuinely engaged in showing me around, his attention to detail both surprising and endearing. By the time we reached his room, I felt like I'd gotten a glimpse into his world.

As we stood there, he opened up about his recent breakup with Sarah. His voice carried a mix of regret and acceptance as he recounted how heartbroken he had been. "Looking back," he confessed, "I should have seen how unhappy Sarah was with me. I miss her, but I know she deserves better."

I nodded sympathetically, struck by his mature perspective on their relationship. "It takes strength to let go," I said softly, feeling a pang of admiration for him despite the rumors that had surrounded him.

Topper chuckled, a brief moment of levity in the midst of our serious conversation. For a moment, our eyes met, and then he leaned in, closing the gap between us with a gentle kiss.

A moment passed before I realized Topper was kissing me. I pushed him away, surprised. Before I could ask what he was doing, he interrupted me with profuse apologies, saying he didn't realize what he was doing.

I let him grovel for a moment, then raised my hand to stop him. "It's okay, I understand," I said, trying to ease the awkwardness.

Topper looked relieved but embarrassed. "I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to overstep."

I nodded, feeling a mix of confusion and flattery. "It's fine, Topper. Let's just...head back to the party, okay?"

He nodded earnestly. "Yeah."

We both laughed nervously, the tension between us dissipating slightly. As we walked, he kept up a light chatter, asking about my interests and sharing stories about his family and hobbies.

When we returned, my parents were engaged in conversation with Cynthia. She greeted us warmly, and Topper smoothly reintegrated me into the group. I felt a wave of relief and was thankful when he took Cynthia’s attention and moved on to the rest of the party.

Since then, Topper seemed to make more of an effort to catch my attention. It started with a simple follow on Instagram, him casually liking and commenting on my posts. Soon, my friends noticed and began teasing me about whether Topper and I would become a thing. I tried to dispel the rumors swirling around and dealt with the ire of those who had hoped to swoop in after Sarah and Topper's breakup.

While I was fending off the vultures, Topper started DMing me. We began having insightful and engaging conversations, eventually swapping numbers and moving our talks to the phone. The desire to quash rumors dwindled as we grew closer, and only my closest friends knew about our budding relationship.

As time passed, Topper started inviting me out, taking me out on dates, and introducing me to his friends. I had heard stories about the trio and their antics, but when I met them, they seemed harmless enough. Though Rafe did strike me as intense.

Eventually, Topper asked me to be his girlfriend. And while our relationship felt a bit strained at first, he grew more comfortable around me, showing increasing affection over time. That's why I chose to ignore the trolls on social media who claimed I'd always be second to Sarah. Topper had convinced me that I was his one and only.

Out of the blue, Topper started to back away. It felt like he wasn't putting in the effort he used to in our relationship. Whenever I asked him about it, he insisted everything was fine. At first, I wondered if it had something to do with me asking Cynthia for help with university, but as time passed, that explanation seemed less convincing.

One day, I went over to Rafe's house to pick up him and Kelce, who had been drinking. I found Ladybug, one of Sarah's friends, sitting by the pool looking troubled. Curious, I approached her and asked what she was doing there.

"Just waiting for Sarah," Ladybug replied with a sigh.

A knot formed in my chest. "Is she on her way now?"

"Yeah, but she's running late," Ladybug explained, her voice trailing off as I tried to process it all.

Deciding to give Topper the benefit of the doubt, I walked into the house to find him goofing off with his friends. He looked genuinely surprised to see me, almost like he hadn't just called me thirty minutes ago asking for a ride.

My suspicions grew when Topper suggested I go home insisting he and Kelce could stay the night. Before any plans could solidify, Rafe, holding a couple of beers, intervened and promptly kicked Topper out. I never thought Rafe had issues with alcohol, but his drug problems weren't exactly a secret.

After processing everything, I finally confronted Topper, asking him outright if he wanted to break things off, thinking he might be looking for an out.Maybe wanting to get back together with Sarah. His response caught me off guard—he pulled me close, kissed me deeply, and insisted he couldn't imagine life without me.

Relieved, I relented, hoping things would improve. For a few days, Topper showered me with affection, making me feel like I was his whole world again. But before long, he started to withdraw once more, leaving me uncertain about where we stood.

Things took a turn for the worse after the Cameron Party. I went with Topper, but he vanished after just 15 minutes. Concerned, I searched through the crowd and eventually headed upstairs. There, I found Rafe standing near the bathroom. Before I could say anything, he motioned for me to stay quiet, putting a finger to his lips.

"Hey," Rafe whispered, his tone playful, "Trying to catch a mouse in here."

I raised an eyebrow, glancing around skeptically. "A mouse?"

Rafe chuckled, his eyes scanning me up and down. "Yeah, pesky little thing. By the way, if you're looking for Topper, he bailed a while ago. Said he was feeling sick."

My stomach tightened with unease. "Was he alone?"

Rafe smirked knowingly. "Yep, just him."

Since then, Topper barely hung out with me, if at all. When we were together, he was jittery and jumpy, as if someone is constantly after him. He spoke to me as if I was breathing down his neck, which became so aggravating that I stopped asking to hang out altogether. With no effort from his side to reach out, all communication ceased for a while.

I started questioning our relationship. I asked Cynthia what was going on, but she insisted that Topper was going through a phase and advised me to give him some time and wait it out. So that's exactly what I did.

Imagine my surprise when John B. approached me wide-eyed and wild, with the most gut-wrenching news.

“Topper is cheating on you,”

[heartbreakprincewille]

Okay, I was just thinking about a legal justice plotline in S3(meaning Wilhelm and Simon essentially having legal proceedings against August) and I don't think that we will get this in S3 at all but it's really really interesting to think about nevertheless.

Because usually in queer stories, coming out solves all the problems like a magical, fix-it-all solution and the mains live happily ever after. But YR heavily leans on realism and even if the S2 ending is an ambiguous but fitting ending for a queer show (sort of a coming out montage), it does not work for this show.

It has been repeatedly said by the cast and crew that Wilhelm's problem is not being queer, it's being a prince. The systemic traditions weighing on a person who can't even grieve his own brother without being shoved into empty traditions and a PR machiavelli. A person who cannot even fall in love with another person without a thousand worries crossing his mind in every move. A person who tried to confide in his own cousin but his privacy got shattered in front of the whole world instead. It's not that Wilhelm being queer itself is a problem. Instead the domino effect it would bring to people around him is the problem. And that's why it was such a task for Wilhelm to get his mother on board for the idea of a relationship with Simon- because everyone (and it includes Kristina) will try to enforce the heteronormative narrative again and again on him, pretending like his feelings don't matter because in the end, it's easier for them. It's easier for them to live in their centuries-old metaphorical gilded cages and try to enforce the traditions on the royal family itself because the monarchists and the rich (old AND new) thrive under the "stability" the monarchy provides to their social stature and their bulging pockets. Even August's motivations towards the crown are two-fold: he's not only in a constant want of power, but he is also a firm believer in continuing traditions and he directly benefits from the monarchy running as it is. And having the power in his hands will let him ensure that his own estates and rich-people solidarity is never threatened again.

But Wilhelm emerges as an anomaly in the system- he will not tie himself down to hollow traditions. And it threatens everyone's stability, which leads to the denial- and the swirling wave of change calms down. But then Wilhelm starts refusing all the traditions and eventually retracts the denial- and the wave hits all of them like a storm.

And Wilhelm trying to seek justice through the legal machinery is not only very poetic (a prince trying to seek fairness in a democratic system because the monarchy inevitably fails him), but it will also rock the boats of so many people. They will finally get to understand that rich and powerful people also have consequences for their actions and their safety nets can blow away no matter how much money they throw away to keep themselves afloat.

I can understand one argument that August is also young and maybe legal consequences will be a bit extreme for him. But, like, any other common person will be blown apart by the system despite being innocent, why is he any exception? If human lives have equal value, why their actions should be treated differently? I would still like August to have a chance at a realization of the severity of his actions rather than facing legal consequences, but I also do want him to face the legal mechanism or atleast face the fear of having legal consequences for his actions. These two things can co-exist. Simon can easily be torn apart because of the whole dealing thing, and no one would come and save his ass for it. It's the biasness for me.

Overthrowing the monarchy or letting August have a redemption arc is just not possible in a single 6-episode season. It will simply be unnatural to the progression of the story. However, atleast in my head, Wilhelm and Simon seeking justice through a legal system can bring the consequences into action without the added labour of scrapping away a deeply rooted institution or changing the way a person's psyche works.

[ikeprinces-stuff]

🤍[𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐂𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭]❤️

A/N : Finally!! The series is out!! With its 9th chapter and already preparing for chapter 10 then y'all gonna know, who my Romarin is and where the hell did she came from? Have fun my lovely potatoes! 🥔❤️✨

Pairing: Leon Dompteur x Romarin ?????? (OC)

Warning: Uhh.. disturbing scenes? Idk how to encrypt the presence of blood without saying that blood gonna be mentioned somewhat with some small gory graphics...

Word count: 3k... Huh? Not 4k this time? Weird...

Tags: [no pressure, let me know if you wanna ba added or removed] @reborn-elven-spirit @chirp-a-chirp @citrusmornings

Series: Rhapsody Of Life

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

"Not here today," she whispers softly, her voice barely breaking the silence as she gazes at the empty space where the violin used to weave its magic in the warm embrace of the sun, right by the fountain.

“Maybe she left,” Rio muses, his eyes scanning the bustling town square for any sign of the enchanting violinist. But the bookstore employee, shaking her head with a hint of melancholy, replies, “I don’t think so. She always said how much she adored it here, how she felt at home among the roses. It’s only been a little while—surely she wouldn’t just change her mind like that.”

Rio raises an eyebrow, skepticism etched across his face. “Even if she did leave, who would she tell? It’s not like itinerant musicians send out formal notices about their comings and goings. They live a life of spontaneity, remember?” He has a point, and as she glances around the square, a wave of longing washes over her. She had cherished every note of that mysterious musician's playing and wished she could hear it just once more before she embarked on her own journey.

“Or maybe she just took a vacation!” Rio jokes, a playful grin lighting up his features. “Being an itinerant musician must be exhausting. I wouldn’t blame her for needing a break after pouring her heart into that violin day after day. Don’t you think?” His wink elicits a laugh from her, a spark of joy amidst her worry.

“That’s a sensible theory,” she concedes, her heart swelling with hope. “Whatever the reason, I genuinely hope she’s well wherever she is. She brings happiness to so many with her music. It would be a shame if she were alone.”

With a shared sense of longing for the unknown violinist, they begin to walk away from the town square, books in hand and thoughts lingering on the enigmatic figure who had captured their hearts. They couldn’t shake the memory of her vibrant performances, drawing in crowds who, like them, were unaware of the serendipitous magic that had graced their town since she first arrived in the Kingdom of Roses.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

The midday sun cast long shadows across the courtyard as Leon, his brow furrowed, pushed open the door to the Domestic Faction office. The air inside hung thick with anticipation, the eyes of his faction members—including Vernard—drilling into him with an almost palpable intensity.

"Well?" Yves finally shattered the silence, his voice laced with a familiar urgency. "How is she?" The unspoken name, yet knowing who the pronoun belongs to, hung heavy in the room.

Leon’s jaw tightened imperceptibly. "She's awake," he stated, his voice betraying a subtle undercurrent of concern despite the firm tone he tried to maintain. "But the wound…it's deep. Healing will take time."

A beat of silence followed, then Jin, leaned forward. "Now that the dust has settled somewhat, I think we're all owed an explanation. Don't you agree?" His gaze, sharp and probing, never left Leon's face. The other members and Vernard shifted, their expectant eyes mirroring Jin’s.

Leon exhaled slowly, the weariness of the past night etching itself on his features. "Okay," he conceded, the single word a weight settling in the room.

°•°

The narrative that followed was a stark, stripped-down account of the previous night’s chaos: the ambush, Romarin’s unexpected and self-sacrificing intervention. As Leon spoke, a wave of disbelief washed over the room. Even Vernard, who had warned of potential trouble, seemed stunned by the details.

“They were trying to kill her?” Yves finally exclaimed, his voice a mix of shock and outrage.

“That is the most plausible explanation given the circumstances,” Leon replied, his voice clipped.

Jin tilted his head, his mind clearly working through the pieces of the puzzle. "So, a rescue operation gone wrong, yet she ended up saving you instead? It's... inverted.”

Leon's jaw tightened. "If she hadn’t stepped in, I’d be the one nursing a dagger in my back." His tone was cold, the underlying gratitude a stark contrast to the frustration simmering beneath the surface.

Licht, ever perceptive, tilted his head, "So... she really saved your life.” he said it not as a question, but as a statement.

Yves’ brow furrowed, his mind racing with questions. “But why? What was she doing surrounded by those men? Who were they and what was their objective? Something's fishy happening."

"I didn't get a chance to ask her." Leon’s tone was brisk “She needs rest after waking up, it'll be better to wait until she's ready to talk.” His gaze swept over his members, a steely resolve hardening his features. “But we'll get the answers. One way or another.” The unspoken threat hung in the air, heavy and palpable.

Vernard straightened, a flicker of eagerness in his eyes. He took a step forward, but Leon caught his movement from the corner of his eye. "Stay where you are, Vernard," he commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument. His gaze then shifted to Licht. "Licht, come with me."

Licht, with no words, immediately rose to his feet and followed Leon out the door, leaving Vernard staring after them with a frustrated glower.

The moment the door clicked shut, Vernard unintentionally had a sad look on his face, causing Yves and Jin to notice.

"Come on, Vern," Jin drawled, a playful glint in his eyes. "Just because Leon didn't want you tagging along doesn't mean he's angry at you." He paused, his smirk widening. "Though… weren’t you keeping a little bit too close of an eye on his woman, and without him knowing, too?”

“He was what?” Yves sputtered, his gaze snapping to Vernard, his expression a mixture of surprise and suspicion.

“I wasn’t spying!” Vernard hissed, his cheeks flushing slightly. “I was... I was watching over her... Discreetly,” he added in a near whisper, his voice dropping to a barely audible murmur.

Jin and Yves exchanged a knowing look, a silent conversation passing between them. "Yeah, right, 'discreetly.' that's code for 'totally spying.'" Jin said, the gentle sarcasm laced in his tone.

“No, it wasn’t!” Vernard insisted, a hint of defensiveness creeping into his voice. “And if I wasn't ‘spying,’ as you call it, then Leon wouldn’t have made it in time to save her.”

“At least this spying was put to good use” Jin said with a soft sarcastic laugh again.

"Jin, stop repeating it. It's not becoming funnier by the second," Yves interrupted, trying to steer the conversation away from Vernard’s obvious embarrassment.

Jin’s expression changed, the playful teasing fading, replaced by a more serious mien. “If you truly believe Leon is angry with you, then do something to change his mind about it.” His words were firm, a challenge to Vernard’s sulking demeanor.

Vernard remained silent for a moment, his jaw tight. Then, without a word, he pushed his chair back roughly, striding out of the office with a frustrated determination.

Yves sighed, turning to Jin, his gaze filled with doubt. “Leon isn't actually upset with him, right?”

“Doubtful,” Jin replied, his voice a touch too calm, a telltale smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "But you know Vern. He likes his drama and overreacting, even when it’s not warranted. If he believes Leon is angry, then he’s going to believe it, regardless of what we say.”

Yves sighed, shaking his head. "You just want to see what he'll do, don't you?"

"What makes you say that?" Jin asked, his smirk widening into a full-blown grin, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

"Think she's gone, yeah?" Forren mumbled, back glued to the grimy cell wall, eyes fixed on some imaginary point in the distance. It was like he was talkin' more to himself than anyone else.

"Dunno, right? But she better have," Gale spat, surprisingly sure of himself considering the iron bars keeping him company. "Stab was for that other guy. She jumped in like a fool, plain stupid. Serves her right, the dumb broad." He rubbed the side of his face, which was still throbbing somethin' fierce. "That guy shouldn't have gotten in the way. Now I'm stuck here, all thanks to that... that lowlife."

"But... what happens to us now?" Arrin asked, his voice laced with worry. He looked from Forren to Gale, but neither of them bothered to answer. They'd pulled off the job, yes, but getting caught after was a right mess. Now, they were stuck, and nobody knew what was coming next.

Suddenly, the clack of cell locks echoed, and the heavy door groaned open. All three of them, like puppets on strings, snapped to their feet, bracing for whatever the hell was coming. A man with hair like a silver wolf, all cold crimson eyes, swaggered in. Forren, Gale, and Arrin traded confused glances, this new man a total mystery. Then the second figure appeared, familiar face, and their expressions went from confused to stone cold.

“Oh, look who the cat dragged in,” Forren sneered, slang dripping from his voice. “Prince Charming himself.”

Gale, still rubbing his jaw, chimed in, “Ain’t got nothin’ for you to be buttin’ in on, pretty boy.”

But Arrin shot them a look sharp enough to cut glass. “Watch what you say, you idiots!” he hissed, his voice low and urgent. He wanted them to shut their traps now. It finally seemed to click for the other two as they took a second look at their ‘intruder,’ noticing a shift in his presence, a kind of regal air they’d missed before.

“From your silence,” Leon spoke, his voice even and calm, “I gather you’ve absorbed something rather shocking, haven’t you?”

The three remained silent, exchanging nervous looks. Their smart mouths seemed to have vanished the moment they realized they were facing not one, but two noble beasts. The silver-haired man wasn’t just some guard; he was a prince. Suddenly, their earlier bravado felt pathetic. They’d been acting like a pack of hyenas, but now, they felt like sheep staring down beasts.

“We told you before…” Forren started, trying to sound tough, but the fear was obvious. “Our beef’s with the bird, not you. We ain't looking for trouble.”

Leon’s voice hardened, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “You tried to kill an innocent, defenseless woman in the dead of night, without even a decent excuse. What kind of trouble do you think you aren’t in?” He was picturing Romarin’s terrified face.

“‘Tried’?” Gale repeated, a flicker of something in his eyes. “She’s still kickin’?!”

“And what if she is?” the second man, Licht, said, his voice like ice. “What difference does it make if she’s breathing or not?” The cell fell silent.

“Why were you targeting her?” Leon finally asked the question that had been burning in his mind. Predictably, he got no quick answer. “What did she do to you to make you go after her like this?” Still nothing. His patience was wearing thin, but he held it together.

“Do we need to persuade them a little more forcefully, Leon?” Licht asked, glancing at his older brother, a clear threat in his flat tone.

“Not yet, Licht,” Leon replied, his voice dangerously soft, his gaze locked on the trio. “Though what you did is unforgivable, I’ll give you a chance. Confess and maybe save yourselves some pain. Or,” he took a step closer, “one of you gets to pick how Prince Licht here persuades the others to talk.”

A fresh wave of unease washed over the three prisoners. Leon’s calm tone was more terrifying than shouting. Was he serious, or just playing games? They exchanged hesitant glances. After a long, silent standoff.

Leon sighed, turning his back on them, signaling his departure. The trio remained oblivious to the grim fate awaiting them once the king left the dungeon.

“Wait…!” Arrin, the shortest of the three, blurted out, his voice agitated, desperate to get Leon’s attention. Leon turned back, his expression expectant. “She… saw something—”

But before he could finish, Forren yanked his arm. “What the hell’s gotten into you? You goin’ soft on us?” he hissed.

Gale backed him up. “You know what happens if we start flapping our gums!”

Arrin yanked his arm free, his voice low and intense. “Oh yeah? And you’d rather just pick your preferred way to die, huh?” That shut them up. “If you haven’t figured it out yet, he hinted she might still be alive. If she was dead, things would be a whole lot worse. He’s taking this personally.” Forren and Gale exchanged surprised looks. “He’s giving us a way out. I’m choosing to talk, to keep us alive.”

“And how’s that gonna guarantee we walk outta here?” Forren questioned, still skeptical.

“Just trust me,” Arrin said, turning back to Leon and Licht, who were patiently waiting.

“So?” Licht prompted, his calm demeanor feeling like the quiet before a storm.

“She… we… were paid to take out the woman because she… witnessed something,” Arrin stammered, fighting to keep his nerves in check.

“What did she see? Spit it out,” Leon demanded, his patience finally fraying.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

The aftermath clung to Romarin like a shroud. Three days. Three agonizing days since it happened, and finally, blessedly, her limbs weren't entirely leaden. She managed a shaky sit-up, propping herself against the plush headboard of a bed far too grand for her.

Her gaze drifted to the enormous window dominating the wall to her right. A knife of golden sunlight sliced through the heavy drapes, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. Then, a flutter. A tiny, brown sparrow landed on the sill, its bright eyes peering inquisitively into the room.

A bittersweet smile touched Romarin's lips. That little bird… a painful symbol. Freedom. Something she missed. Her whisper was barely audible, a sigh given voice. “...I wish I was you right now.”

The soft click of the door pulling open startled her. "Good morning, miss," Marlene's voice, polite and measured, filled the space. The maid, her starched apron crisp, wheeled in a laden cart. Romarin's eyes widened at the sheer volume of food. She pushed herself up further, a gasp escaping her lips. “Hey, hey, hold up! What’s all this for?!”

Marlene’s expression was the picture of innocent duty. “Your breakfast, miss?” she stated, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, expertly arranging silver cutlery and steaming dishes.

Romarin gestured wildly at the feast. “But… Mar, come on! This is way too much!”

Marlene’s smile deepened, a hint of something knowing in her eyes. “His Majesty ordered me to make sure you’re well-fed, miss. Very particularly.”

Romarin groaned, burying her face in her hands. “Ughh… I swear, I want to punch that arrogant git’s face in.”

Marlene’s voice suddenly took on a playful lilt, mimicking someone else’s tone. “Oh, right. His Majesty also said something about you maybe, just maybe, mentioning your burning desire to rearrange his handsome features. He said you’re more than welcome to try… after you’re back on your feet, of course.” Marlene’s eyes twinkled as she slid a plate heaped with fluffy scrambled eggs toward Romarin.

A slow smile spread across Romarin's face. Permission to punch Leon? Well, that was something. “Alright, alright, that’s… that’s a decent incentive, I’ll give him that.” Her gaze fell back to the extravagant breakfast. A sigh escaped her lips again, this time laced with disbelief. Years spent scraping by, her violin her only lifeline, earning just enough to stave off hunger for another day… Now, this spread could feed her for a damn week. She stared at it hesitantly, her stomach rumbling a confused protest.

Marlene, noticing her hesitation, picked up a silver spoon brimming with steaming broth. She held it out towards Romarin. “Now, open up, miss. I’m not leaving this spot until you’ve had at least a little something. Your body needs the energy to recover.”

Romarin actually laughed, the sound a little rusty. “You know, the last time someone insisted I eat like this, I was about nine years old and refusing my greens.” She finally parted her lips, accepting the spoonful.

Marlene chuckled, a gentle sound. “You must have had a strict mother when you were young.”

Romarin’s smile faltered, a flicker of pain crossing her features. “Yeah… maybe that’d be the case… if I had a mother.” The last part was a bare whisper, the joy draining from Marlene's face.

“Oh… miss… I… I’m so sorry…” Elsie stammered, her hand flying to her mouth.

Romarin shook her head, forcing a lighter tone. “Don’t be. It’s not like I’m still crying about it.” She picked up the bowl of soup, taking another spoonful herself.

Elsie’s brow furrowed. “But… that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt at all, does it?”

Romarin met her gaze, a curious light in her eyes. “You’re right. What got me was… the other kids in the orphanage, they were always wishing for new parents. Me? I was just obsessed with figuring out why I didn’t have any. Seemed like a weird thing for a little kid to be so hung up on.”

A familiar voice, laced with a hint of amusement, cut through the quiet. “That’s why you decided to leg it from the orphanage then, wasn’t it?” Both women turned sharply towards the doorway. Marlene immediately straightened, offering a respectful bow. “Your Majesty,” she murmured as Leon strolled into the room, a charming grin stretching across his face.

Romarin raised an eyebrow, a wry smile tugging at her lips. “Bit good at jumping to conclusions, aren’t we?”

Leon just shrugged, his hand ruffled his hair casually. “Just a wild guess.”

“Yeah, a ‘wild guess’ you stated like it was stone-cold fact, even though I never breathed a word of it.” Romarin challenged, a playful glint in her eyes.

Leon nodded his head towards the door, a silent dismissal. Marlene gave a quick, curtsying bow and slipped out of the room, leaving them alone. Even then, Leon didn’t approach the bed like he had before. He just stood there, his presence filling the space, a silent question hanging in the air.

"How you holding up today?" Leon asked, his voice casual, but his eyes holding a sliver of concern as he watched Romarin.

Romarin just sighed, a long, drawn-out sound that spoke volumes. She was glued to the window, her gaze fixed on the empty spot where the sparrow had been just moments ago. Another sigh escaped her.

"Town feels a million miles away," she mumbled, her voice low. "Miss chucking bread at the pigeons. Stupid, I know."

Leon nodded slowly, understanding dawning in his eyes. Three days cooped up inside – even for someone healing from a slice – was probably driving Romarin nuts. She was the type who seem to be practically vibrated with restless energy.

Suddenly, they both spoke at the exact same time. "I've got some things to ask—" They broke off, a shared chuckle bubbling up between them. They exchanged a quick look, the tension easing a fraction.

"Ladies first," Leon offered, gesturing with his hand.

Romarin shook her head, a playful glint in her eyes. "Nah, you go ahead. You're the one with the big title."

Leon grinned, playing along. "Well, as your benevolent king, I command you to speak your mind."

"Wouldn't be proper for a commoner to jump the queue in front of royalty," Romarin retorted, a smirk playing on her lips.

"Oh, so now you're all about proper?I bet you would've been so polite if I'd dropped the 'king' bomb on you the first time we met?" Leon's tone was laced with good-natured sarcasm.

Romarin's comeback was instant. "If you had, I’d have thought you were just trying to impress me with a fake title,"

"Good point," Leon admitted, a chuckle escaping him.

The playful banter faded, leaving a pocket of silence. Lately, these silences had been happening more and more. Quick chats, followed by stretches of quiet that felt… different. Leon didn't like it. It felt like a distance was creeping in, a gap he didn't know how to bridge.

He shifted, breaking the quiet. "Why didn't you say something about what you saw?" His question was direct, catching Romarin off guard. But a flicker of understanding crossed her face. She knew what he was talking about.

"Let's just say Lady Luck took a day off on that exact day," she said, her voice tinged with bitterness. Her gaze drifted back to the window, her eyes losing focus, becoming distant and sad with a ghost of a smile touched her lips.

A memory flickering in her eyes. The grand hall, the echo of her violin soaring through the air, the warmth of applause washing over her. A magical bubble, something a girl like her rarely got to experience.

Then, the memory fractured. The bright colors leached away, replaced by shadows. Screams tore through the silence. The sickening thud of steel on flesh. Moonlight glinting off swords, stained a horrifying red. Figures in black, faceless and menacing, surrounded by bodies lying still and broken.

One of the figures turned, just for a second… and the memory snapped shut.

"Didn't really register what I saw at the time," Romarin said, her voice flat. "My legs just… decided we were leaving. Guess they had more sense than my brain back then." She tried for a light tone, a joke, but the underlying pain was raw and undeniable. "Smart feet, dumb head."

Leon's voice was low, serious. "And ever since then, they've been after you."

Romarin just sighed, confirmation hanging heavy in the air.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Leon pressed, his voice softer now.

Romarin finally met his gaze, her expression a mix of vulnerability and defiance. “The usual excuses would be, ‘I didn’t want to worry you,’ or ‘I didn’t want to drag you into my mess.’ But every time I thought about opening up to you, all I could think was, ‘What would you do about this?’ and ‘You might just leave me to rot.’” Her eyes searched his, trying to gauge his reaction.

Leon stared at her, a hurt look in his eyes. "You thought I'd ditch you?"

Romarin didn't answer, the silence a clear enough reply.

"Gotta be rational, right?" she said, a sharp edge to her voice. "Stay out of things that aren't your problem. Things that could get you killed."

Leon's expression hardened. “If being rational means turning my back on someone I care about, or anyone in distress, then I’d rather be crazy,” A slow smile spread across his face, genuine and warm.

Romarin's breath hitched. Her eyes widened, her heart hammering against her ribs. Someone he cares about. The words resonated deep within her, a warmth spreading through her chest, chasing away the chill that usually clung to her. Leon's smile felt like the sun breaking through the clouds, not a playful tease, but something real, something meant for her. For the first time in ages, a lightness bloomed inside her, like a caged bird finally taking flight. But a small, nagging voice whispered a warning in the back of her mind. Stop this. Don't.

Just then, a sharp knock echoed on the door. Leon turned, his gaze flicking towards the sound, the moment broken. He walked towards the door, not noticing the small sigh that escaped Romarin's lips.

He spoke to someone on the other side, his voice muffled. Turning back to Romarin, he gave a small, almost apologetic sigh. "Hey, Romarin," he called out, a hint of surprise in his voice. "Looks like you've got visitors."

Romarin raised an eyebrow, a knot of curiosity tightening in her stomach. Visitors? Who…

[paisholotus]

Be Something Greater

Now Playing: I feel like I'm drowning~ Two Feet

Narrative

Vivica Robertson , now 24, stands by her car looking up at the house. She can see Bruce in the window. She gives a small wave. Bruce returns Vivica's wave. He then finishes loading his gun. Bruce walks down the drive to Vivica. He smiles gently.

"Hey, love, how are you?" She asked, hugging him tightly. He wraps his arms around her waist and hummed taking in her scent. "You still trying to get kicked out of the entire ivy league." She asked, pulling away. Bruce shakes head, smiling, "Turns out you don’t actually need a degree to do the international playboy thing." Vivica playfully scoffed, "playboy my ass. Don't make me get you." She laughed looking down at her shoes.

"Bruce, I don’t suppose there’s anyway I can convince you not to come" she said, lowly, looking into his eyes sadly. Bruce looks at her coldly. "I'm going to this proceeding stand for my parents." He said, glaring down at her. "Bruce, you know I loved your parents. What Chill did is unforgivable." She said, placing her hand on his shoulder. "Then why is your boss letting him go." He asked, folding his arms. Vivica dropped her hand and looked at him shocked, "what?" She mumbled. Bruce shakes his head, opens the car door. She gets in the car heading towards the golden spires of Gotham.

"Love, I swear I didn't know that. I promise. I would have asked him about it if I knew. I'm sorry." Bruce stares out the window in silence and nods. Vivica pulls into the parking lot of the courthouse. Bruce looks at her through the strained silence. "Viv, this man killed my parents. I cannot let that pass." Vivica almost says something but doesn't. She leans over and kisses his lips softly, cupping his jaw. She pulls away slowly and looked into those blue eyes that held pain and anger. "I love you, Bubba." He cups her cheeks and smiled lowly. "I love you too. But, I need you to understand." He said, almost pleading.

Vivica looks at Bruce and nods grabbing his hand. Bruce nods back. Vivica opens her door and starts getting out. Bruce slips out his gun, placing it on the ground behind the front wheel of Vivica's car as he gets out. A small bureaucratic proceeding. A five person Panel. Brucesits amongst the observers. Watching the back of Vivica's bosses head, she glares at the man as she squeezes Bruce’s hand.

Finch, addresses the panel. "Finch given the exemplary prison record of Mr.Chill, the 14 years already served and his extraordinary level of cooperation with one of this office’s most important investigations... we strongly endorse Mr.Chill’s petition for early release." The lawyer said. The Chairman nods, consults his paperwork.

"Chairman, a member of the Wayne family is here today..." Bruce studies his weathered face. Vivica also glares at the man, as she rubs her thumb over Bruce’s knuckles. Does he have anything to say?" The chairman asked. Chill notices Wayne’s cold eyes. Has to look away.

Bruce rises, walks out, all eyes on him. Including Vivica's. Vivica looks at Bruce confused as they walked out. Bruce moves to vivica’s car. Picks up his gun, stuffs it up the sleeve of his overcoat. Waits. Vivica looked down at Bruce’s sleeve despite the commotion her heart dropped as she looked at him, her eyes welling up. The side exit opens and two cops come out. A shout goes up from the press men around the front of the courthouse.

"They're taking him out the side!!" They yelled. Reporters swarm around the building as Chill emerges. "Joe! Hey Joe!!" Someone yelled. This one catches Chill’s eye- blonde, local t.v. type. Bruce’s hand drops to his side as he moves... he’s breathing heavy... thinking... deciding...

Vivica steps in front of Bruces gun and looked him dead in his eyes. She stared at him and slowly grabbed the gun putting it in her bag. Her heart was completely broken. It's one thing to be angry at that man, but to make up for it by killing him. Wouldn't be something he'll be able to take back. And, it's not the Bruce Vivica knows or grew up with.

"Falcone says hi!!" She thrusts a gun at Chill’s chest and fires. Chill drops to the ground. Bruce and Vivica stop in their tracks. Reporters dive for cover. Cops jump on the blonde reporter, pinning her...Bruce stands fifteen feet away. Face asuncomprehending as the night. Chill killed his parents. Vivica moves to Bruce, pulling him away from the chaos.

"Come one, Bruce. Come on, we don’t need to see this." She says, as they get in the car and leave. Bruce sits there, hands in his lap staring out the window. Vivica glances over at him, then pulls over and turns to him. "Are you okay, Bubba?" She asked gently. "All these years I wanted to kill him. Now he’s gone. Now I can’t." Vivica looked at him feeling herself getting angry.

"You don’t mean that." She said thickly. Bruce looked at her bitterly. "What if I do, Vivica? Chill killed my parents.They deserved justice!" Vivica looks at him, appalled. "You’re not talking about justice, you’re talking about fucking revenge. And, this isn't you talking." She said angerly. "Sometimes they’re the same." She scoffs and shook her head, laughing in disbelief. She looked at him with a serious glare.

"They’re never the same, Bruce.Justice is about harmony... revenge is about you making yourself feel better in that moment. That’s why we have animpartial system. IF YOU WOULD HAVE KILLED HIM YOU WOULD HAVE BEEN NO BETTER THAN THE MONSTER THAT MURDERED YOUR PARENTS!" She yelled.

Vivica pulls out into the street. "Well, your system of justice is broken-" Bruce starts to say but is cut off. "Don’t you tell me the system’s broken, Bruce! I’m out here everyday trying to fix it while you mope around using your grief as an excuse to do nothing.You care about justice..?" Vivica yanks the wheel. Vivica's car screeches across two lanes, onto an exit ramp.

The streets below are dark, crowded and threatening. "Look beyond your own pain, Bruce." Vivica gestures at the filthy streets. Down dark the alleys shadowy figures conduct business. "This city is rotting. Chill is not the cause, he’s the effect. Corruption is killing Gotham and Chill being dead doesn’t help that it makes it worse because Falcone walks. He carries on flooding our city with crime and drugs...creating new Joe Chills... Falcone may not have killed your parents,Bruce, but he’s destroying everything they stood for..." She mumbled, stopping the car.

They pull up in front of a basement club. "They all know where to find Falcone..." She gestures at club. "But no one will touch him because he keeps the bad people rich and the good people scared." She says looking at Bruce. "And, what chance does Gotham have when the good people do nothing?" She whispered, poking him in the chest.

Bruce looks down at her finger. "I’m not one of your "good people", Vivica. Chill took that from me." Vivica looks at Bruce then slaps him. Bruce does nothing. Vivica slaps him again and again... Nothing. She stops. Tears flowing.

"You’re no better than the rest." Vivica points at the gun. Looks into Bruce’s eyes. "I don't know who the hell I'm looking at." She huffs as tears falls down her cheeks. "You're not Bruce Wayne. You're not my bubba. Your father would be ashamed of you." Bruce stares at Vivica feeling like he just lost another part of him. He opens his door, but is stopped when he is pulled back in the car. Vivica looks into his eyes and lays her forehead against his. They looked into each other's eyes knowing it was over. But, he understood what she was saying. 'I love you.'

Bruce watches Vivica's car disappear. Turns to look at the line of ships in the harbor. He makes his way to the water. Takes out his gun. Turns it, the light off it's metal. Bruce, with contempt, flings his gun into the black water. Bruce turns and looks around, a homeless man warming himself at a flaming oil drum.

One of many homeless clustered around the docks. "Round here dressed like that, means you got something to prove. Man with something to prove is dangerous." The homeless man said. Bruce stares at the man. Thinking. Takes out his wallet removes the money, hands it to the homeless man.

"For what?" The man asked confused. "Your jacket." Bruce drops his wallet into the fire. The homeless man laughs. Bruce pulls off his tie, throws it into the fire. He pulls off his overcoat. Bruce looks at the homeless man, who has removed his own. They exchange clothing. "Be careful who sees you with that. They’re gonna come looking for me." Bruce said smiling.

Bruce wanders the stacks. A horn sounds. Bruce’s eyes lock onto the ship preparing to leave. Bruce runs towards it through the shadows...

"Sometimes you have to leave to find yourself or to do something better."