#red rose young adult

[aleksandrasieczka]

“Red Rose” przypomina o zagrożeniach, o których powoli zapominamy | recenzja 

Wiatr wył niemiłosiernie, a jego zawodzenie zdawało się coraz mocniej wdzierać do mieszkania. Z każdym kolejnym podmuchem żarówki w żyrandolu przygasały miarowo, by po chwili rozbłysnąć jakby nic się nie stało. Początkowo myślałam, że to umysł płata mi figle i światło wcale nie gaśnie na ułamek sekundy. Następny huk był jednak mocniejszy, a zwykle przytulny pokój zalała fala ciemności. Idealnie w momencie, gdy na jednym z serialowych ekranów załączyło się nagranie Rochelle, a jej krzyk zgrał się z zawodzeniem w prawdziwym świecie. 

I wtedy już naprawdę chciałam się pozbyć telefonu albo chociaż wszystkich zainstalowanych na nim aplikacji.

Gdzie “The Ring” spotyka “Black Mirror” 

W jednym z odcinków, gdy atmosfera jest już prawie tak gęsta, że można ją ciąć nożem, Taz nawiązuje do japońskiego horroru: - Lodówki, telewizory, taksówki nie zabiją cię. To nie jest “The Ring”. Nic nie wyskoczy z ekranu - mówi z pełnym przekonaniem, ale my nadal możemy mieć pewne wątpliwości. Brytyjski serial young adult wielokrotnie wodzi nas za nos balansując na granicy gatunków i możliwych rejonów, w jakie fabuła może zmierzać. Kamera telefonu skierowana w przestrzeń niejednokrotnie ukazuje sylwetki bez twarzy, które próbują wydostać się na zewnątrz. Światy się przenikają, trudno wierzyć nawet własnym oczom. Czy tajemnicza aplikacja faktycznie pozwala na kontakt ze zmarłymi? Czy ci zmarli są tymi, za kogo ich mamy? A może to kolejny serial o hakerze jeden do jednego przeniesionym z meksykańskiej teen dramy “Control Z”? 

Moje pierwsze wrażenia skłaniały mnie ku bramce numer trzy. Zapowiedzi produkcji, choć znacznie bardziej mroczne, mimo wszystko nie wskazywały na nic demonicznego, co wymaga skorzystania z wody święconej, a kto inny miałby się zainteresować zwyczajnymi nastolatkami. Jak bardzo byłam  jednak w błędzie… “Red Rose” nie zabiera nas bowiem do świata elit, pokazując idealne życie bogatych dzieciaków, którym ktoś mógłby zagrażać. Zamiast tego nie tylko zarysowuje trudny wiek dorastania, ale i zmagania, które bynajmniej nie powinny ich dotyczyć, a jednak stanowią powód do wstydu czy zaburzeń poczucia własnej wartości. Nic dziwnego - w Bolton znają się wszyscy, a każdy sekret może z prędkością światła wylądować na językach całej społeczności.

Ant przyłapuje matkę na kupowaniu taniej wódki, Wren jest wytykana palcami za morderstwo, którego dopuścił się jej ojciec, a Roch naciąga kaptur na głowę coraz mocniej i mocniej, żeby tylko nikt jej nie poznał, gdy odbiera paczki z jedzeniem. W domu żadnego się nie przelewa. A jednak pewnego dnia ta ostatnia dostaje link do aplikacji z zapowiedzią jej nowego, lepszego życia, które zdecydowanie za bardzo będzie przypominać odcinek “Black Mirror”. Zacznij od selfie, mówi aplikacja, i natychmiast przetwarza jej zdjęcie ukazując ułamek swoich możliwości. “Upiększona” filtrami twarz rozświetlona złowrogim uśmiechem spoziera na nią z ekranu telefonu. 

Roch wcale się nie uśmiechnęła. 

Tam ktoś jest i czyha 

Cały problem polega na tym, że “ten odcinek” jest znacznie bliższy naszej rzeczywistości niż mogłoby się na pierwszy rzut oka wydawać. Chociaż “Red Rose” nijak przypomina TikToka czy to interfejsem, czy przeznaczeniem, to przemyca pewne niepokojące kwestie, które już teraz oddziałują na dzieci i młodzież. Pod płaszczem niewinnej aplikacji, która zaprasza do różanego ogrodu i nanosi “upiększające” filtry na awatar użytkownika, kryje się narzędzie do sterowania ludźmi naruszające ich prywatność. Rochelle dość szybko uświadamia sobie, że Red Rose widzi każdy jej ruch i słyszy każde jej słowo. Ingeruje w jej smsy i udostępnia za nią posty. Nagrywa nieproszona czy wykonuje inne operacje bez jej wyraźnej zgody. Ale czyżby właśnie bez jego zgody? 

Bo przyznajcie, ile razy zastanawialiście się, czy właśnie te uprawnienia, które dajecie aplikacjom w związku z dostępem do plików czy wykorzystaniem wbudowanej kamery nie sięgają znacznie dalej niż tylko do jej niezbędnych funkcji? Zakładam, że obecnie już nie za często. Może te kilka(naście) lat temu, gdy jeszcze dało się wykonać twardy reset telefonu poprzez wyjęcie jego baterii. Teraz również przyzwyczaiłam się, że skoro dzięki aplikacji mogę udostępniać zdjęcia czy wykonywać je za jej pośrednictwem, to po prostu muszę dać jej te standardowe uprawnienia. Standardowe, choć w nieodpowiednich rękach naruszające naszą prywatność dokładnie w ten sam sposób, co Red Rose. Standardowe, bo do tego jesteśmy przyzwyczajeni. 

Nie jest powiedziane wprost, czy uprawnienia aplikacji kończą się wraz z chwilą, gdy znikają z naszego ekranu. Red Rose działa w tle, w ukryciu, chowa się, gdy ktoś niepowołany patrzy. Bo doskonale wie, że patrzy. 

Duchy czy deep fake?

Twórcy serialu bynajmniej nie budują tej historii w oparciu o wizje z nieodległej przyszłości. “Red Rose” jest bardzo mocno ugruntowana w obecnych czasach - i jeśli chodzi o zachowania nastolatków, i działania aplikacji. 

Skrzętnie upatruje sobie tych, którzy mają coś wstydliwego do ukrycia i bierze to na zakładnika, ciągnąc postać w dół, coraz bardziej w bezdenną otchłań. Bohaterowie są na wskroś normalni i pogubieni stosownie do wieku. Ant ukrywa swoją orientację seksualną nawet przed przyjaciółmi, a uzależnienie matki jest powodem do wielkiego wstydu. Wren i Noah uczą się bliskości, choć sami nie wiedzą, gdzie zaprowadzi ich los. Czekają na wyniki egzaminów, które albo otworzą przed nimi drzwi do lepszej przyszłości, albo zaryglują je na dobre. Roch żyje w sferze marzeń usiłując w ten sposób uciec od życia, które nie jest dla niej łaskawe. Ojciec ledwo wiąże koniec z końcem po tym, jak jej mama odebrała sobie życie, a teraz to właśnie jej głos, za którym tak tęskni, wydobywa się z aplikacji, zachęcając do zwierzania się i budowania zaufania. 

Za sprawą technologii rozszerzonej rzeczywistości użytkownicy są w stanie - posiłkując się słowami samej aplikacji - odsłonić to, co ukryte. Doprowadza to do iście horrorowych scen, gdy przed naszymi oczami pojawia się postać bez twarzy nieobecna w realnym świecie. Ale twórcy idą dalej. Gdy do Rochelle zaczyna docierać, że jej mama nigdy nie rozmawiałaby z nią w ten sposób, decyduje się odprawić egzorcyzm z użyciem internetowego poradnika i wody święconej, który bynajmniej nie odstrasza tajemniczej postaci. Zdaje się ją przyciągać. Jest coraz bliżej i bliżej gotowa wyłonić się z ekranu i pochwycić przerażoną nastolatkę. - Taz, na pewno masz rację z tym “The Ring”? - chciałoby się zapytać. Za jakiś czas telewizor zaleje fala czerwieni, z której wyłoni się Rochelle, a jej rozdzierający krzyk rozlegnie się echem. - Ale jesteś pewny? - zapytajmy jeszcze raz. 

Zaczynamy się wówczas zastanawiać, czy to deep fake z klonowaniem obrazu i głosu, czy faktycznie “Red Rose” skręca w kierunku demonicznych sił wdzierajacych się do telefonu. Prawda jest jednak jeszcze bardziej niepokojąca. 

Idea, która nie umiera 

Chociaż serial “Red Rose” nie przeciera żadnych nowych szlaków ani w temacie young adult, ani zagrożeń czyhających w internecie, to ma kilka asów w rękawie. Przez cały serial utrzymywane jest uczucie niepokoju potęgowane przez to, co nam bliskie - z telefonu nagle rozlega się muzyka, światła w domu gasną, a temperatura gwałtownie spada. Wszystko, co jest podłączone do internetu, może stanowić zagrożenie. Dodatkowo twórcy bawią się formą m.in. zapuszczając chóralną wersję piosenki “Barbie Girl” sprawiając, że nigdy nie była aż tak przerażająca i bardzo zgrabnie budują świat oraz realnych bohaterów. 

Prawdziwy jest wstyd Anta, który zbliża się do matki jednej z ofiar aplikacji, żeby poczuć ciepło ogniska domowego. Namacalne jest to, jak gubi się Wren - jej matka próbuje ułożyć sobie życie na nowo, z dala od byłego męża, na którego życie dybie wielu. Bardzo mocno działa poza, którą przyjmuje Rochelle - twardzielki, która rozpada się na milion kawałków. Nie ma tym bardziej nic udawanego w tym, jak zachowuje się Noah. Z jednej strony jest niesamowicie mocno zaangażowany w relację z Wren i chce się o nią zatroszczyć, z drugiej uważa, że jest “tylko wystarczający”, co ciągnie go w dół.

Red Rose wie o tym wszystkim. Najpierw gromadzi dane, a później wykorzystuje powszechny dostęp do internetu, żeby wwiercić się w głowy swoich ofiar i zasiać w nich spustoszenie. Prowadzi je na sam kraniec granicy obłędu diametralnie zmieniając swój obraz z “miłej” aplikacji, która pyta jak się czujesz i czego pragniesz, by - gdy już ci to da - zmusić cię do wykonywania dla niej zadań. 

Możesz próbować ją usunąć, dostać się do jej kodu, odkryć prawdę, ale jej idea nigdy nie umrze. Na świecie zawsze będzie ktoś, kto będzie chciał przekroczyć granice - niezależnie od tego, czy Red Rose bazuje ściśle na technologii, czy zagląda w sfery spirytualne.

[madmaxified]

‼️descendants rise of red spoilers‼️

DO YOU THINK THAT THE REASON BRIDGET IS MAD AT ELLA AND HASNT SPOKEN TO HER IN YEARS WHEN THEYRE ADULTS IS BECAUSE WHEN THEY WERE AT THE DANCE ELLA LEFT BRIDGET ALONE TO GO DANCE WITH CHARMING AND THATS WHEN ULIANA PRANKED BRIDGET BECAUSE ELLA WASNT THERE TO PROTECT HER AND BRIDGET WAS ALONE AND AFRAID AND PROBABLY THOUGHT ELLA LEFT HER ON PURPOSE AND WAS IN ON THE PRANK AND BLAMED HER FOR WHAT HAPPENED AND THATS WHY ELLA DOESNT WANT TO TELL CHLOE ABOUT IT BECAUSE SHE FEELS GUILTY ABOUT IT

[cozy-kit-cafe]

plush book self-care

[letoasai]

Will work for food

DP x DC An idea that's probably been done before but... here it is again.

~~

It was not an ideal setting for this. Out in the open, debris being their only cover. An unnatural storm closing in. The area had been evacuated but there was still no telling how many civilian eyes could be on them at this very moment. 

The League was scattered, making this current group a touch at odds while away from the majority of their normal teams. 

Batman stood with Red Robin, Flash, Superboy, and Raven. It wasn’t a bad lineup, but things were getting dicy. 

A monster had appeared, a creature foreign to most of them. With it came storms of all kinds, winds, hail, rain. It was a mess but there was nothing natural about it. The hail shattered the pavement. The winds were picking buildings up off their foundations. The blue lightning went without saying. The ice was changing the terrain. The temperature changes were disorienting to most of the heroes.  

Worse was the fact that this creature seemed to be able to duplicate itself, spreading the chaos out to a much wider area. They were having trouble even touching the thing let alone capturing it. 

“Are you sure about this?” Batman asked, a deep frown etched into his face as he watched Raven mark out a summoning circle. 

“It’s the only idea i have.” She said bluntly, shivering from the sudden chill. “That thing is not of this realm. We need something else not of this realm to subdue it.” 

“I hear what you’re saying but summoning a demon to deal with a demon still leaves us with a demon.” Flash said, seeing the flaw in this plan. 

“Unless you know this one personally or something.” Red Robin offered, his voice exhausted. 

“It’s not a demon.” Raven said, tone irritated but it wasn’t like any of them were having a good day. “Depending on how you want to look at it, it’s far worse than a demon. That thing came from the Infinite Realm.” 

Superboy just grunted once, watching her put the finishing touches on her spell circle. “You said that in a tone that said it was in capital letters. What’s the Infinite Realm?” 

“Bad news and something we shouldn’t freaking touch.” Raven answered swiftly. She stood, eyes going over her work. 

“Then what the hell are we doing?” Flash asked quickly, all of them tensed as the wind started to pick up again. If a hurricane was thrown at them, there was little they’d be able to do about it. 

“Raven.” Batman’s voice was serious. “You’re sure?” 

“It’s all i’ve got.” She repeated. “This is not a problem this realm was meant to handle on short notice. We need help.” 

There were several things in that one statement he didn’t like. “Who are you summoning?” 

Raven was looking rather pale herself. “The Ghost King. The King of the Infinite Realm. I’ve heard word that he can be bargained with so… we’re gonna give it a shot.” 

She didn’t wait for permission from anyone else to throw in their two cents on the matter. She threw her hands out, alien words no one else understood on her lips. The chant repeated and the summoning circle began to glow a green that the present Bats didn’t care for. 

It crept up the walls of the summoning circle in oddly pretty patterns before a gaping void opened on the ground. Silently, a figure rose into the circle from that same void. The king was smaller than they’d been imagining the last minute or two. He was human shaped and sized, a black crown floating several inches over his head. He was a wispy figure, face hidden by a large hood but there were strands of white hair floating around their shadowed face. He’d had nothing but a smoky looking tail when he’d first appeared but that had now split into solid looking legs. 

Given his size, he seems like a young adult, but it was hard to say for certain without seeing his face. 

“Woah.” Red Robin muttered, Superboy agreeing with the sentiment. 

��Heroes?” The Ghost King wondered, voice soft and lethargic. “Interesting.” 

Raven bowed her head in a show of respect. “Your Majesty. I apologize for the abrupt summons. We have a dire situation and are willing to make a deal for your help.” 

“A deal…” His voice echoed gently. He spoke as if raising his voice would shatter the very air around them. “That’s not something to choose lightly. What do you want from me?” 

Raven swallowed, her body rigid with nerves. She was almost relieved when Batman took over. 

“As i understand it, we have a being from your realm here in ours. We are underprepared to deal with such destruction and-” 

“Of my realm?” The King interrupted softly, head tipped a little as his attention turned to Batman. “Who?” 

Flash laughed nervously. “We’re not on a first name basis or anything but the guy seems to control the weather.” He pointed up and the sky above them was darkening the longer they spoke. 

The King made a noise like he’d clucked his tongue and it struck all of them as a very human kind of gesture despite his title. 

“I can handle that. Your deal?” 

Raven inhaled again, this obviously being the part she was dreading. “Blood, i have the blood of the Demon Lord Trigon-” 

“Pass.” 

That drew everyone up short. The others didn’t exactly understand the significance of Raven offering her blood but it clearly wasn’t something she’d expected to be declined so quickly. 

“My soul then….” Raven muttered. 

“Raven, no!” Superboy hissed. “The fuck!” 

Batman was also eyeing her unhappily. “Absolutely not. You are not Constantine.” 

Fortunately for the heroes, each of which was ready to revolt for such a barter, the Ghost King waved the thought away. 

“Nah.” He tugged on his hood a little and Batman realized he was likely brushing away one of those white strands of hair from his face. “That’s the thing about being the King of the Infinite Realm. Souls come to me one way or another in time. No need to preorder them.” 

Raven’s shoulders sagged, eyes shifting as she rapidly tried to think of something else she could offer. 

“What do you want?” Red Robin asked before anyone else could say something stupid. “You’re the one that’s going to fight this threat for us. What’s a good deal?” 

The King turned to him and stared. They could only assume he was contemplating his answer when he hummed quietly. “Food.” 

“Wha…” Flash muttered. 

The Ghost King just nodded. “Food from your realm. It’s been…a long time since i’ve eaten.” 

“Really? Like we could go grab you a burger and that would be cool?” Superboy asked, a touch suspicious, but the King just nodded.  

“Deal.” Raven said before anyone would make it worse. “A meal for returning this threat back to your realm.” 

The King nodded again, and each of them backed up several paces when the walls to the summoning circle broke apart and the King stepped out. For the briefest of moments he seemed to nearly stumble under the gravity of actually ‘walking’ but he got over it quickly enough. 

“Can we offer you any assistance?” Batman asked. 

The King shook his head. ���No.” He wandered off towards the storm, the floating crown on top of his head seeming a little larger. He moved confidently and with purpose. “Oh Vortex…” He called, walking into the winds. 

He sounded young, but all of them agreed immediately that they never wanted to hear him beckoning them the same way. His tone was dangerous, and he walked right through a car that had been flung in his direction. 

“Cool.” Red Robin muttered. 

“Simmer down, Red.” Superboy muttered. All of them wanted to follow, but with the unstable weather and a literal Ghost King wandering about, staying out of the way felt like the best option. Of course that didn’t mean they weren’t dying of curiosity. 

Flash moved to stand beside Raven, making sure she wasn’t about to topple over because of the power it must have taken to summon a king from another dimension. “You good?” 

“Yeah.” she breathed out a sigh. “Honestly, this was an unforeseen best case scenario. You should really go get that food for him.” 

Batman moved to her otherside, hearing the voices over comms noticing a shift in what was happening. “You think it will be over that fast?” 

“Yes.” 

“Well-” Flash looked up at the sky that was rapidly clearing. “Yep. I’ll be right back.” He was gone in a blur but it was hard to believe a change was happening so quickly. 

“Has it even been a full minute?” Superboy asked. “I mean, damn…” 

“Someone better have been recording visuals.” Red Robin muttered. “We are absolutely missing something amazing.” 

“He’s the King of the infinite Realm.” Raven said. “It’s the realm that connects every other realm and it is as the name implies… infinite. He rules it. I don’t even think Trigon would dare mess with him.” 

Batman had his arms crossed, still listening to the amazed chatter over comms. “Should it be suspicious that all he wants is food?” 

“He made the deal.” Raven shrugged. “He could have asked for anything. Literally.” She stopped speaking when the hooded king returned. He was floating this time though only a foot or two off the ground. He didn’t look tired or dirty or anything. 

Just the same ethereal otherness he’d arrived with. “Done.” He announced. 

“What uh- happened to the guy?” Superboy asked, pointing vaguely at where the storm had been raging. 

The Ghost King just dug into his cape and pulled out…a thermos. “Souped him. He’s gonna have a little time out.” 

“Oh my god, i have so many questions.” Red Robin whispered. 

The thermos was put away and Batman was suppressing his own urge to ask a dozen questions over what just occurred. They’d been struggling with the Infinite creature for hours and countless lives had no doubt been altered. Clean up would take weeks if not months and this Ghost King handled it in minutes. 

“My food?” 

“On the way.” Raven said immediately. “Flash is one of the fastest men on the planet. He’ll be right back.” 

The King nodded and looked around before moving to a pile of bricks that had once been a fence. He sat down and waited, somehow looking regal among the wreckage. 

“So… I’m Red Robin.” Batman looked up again when his son was sliding closer to introduce himself. “Superboy, Raven, Batman.” He gestured and the King’s hood shifted as he followed Red Robin’s introduction of them. “Is there something we can call you or is your Majesty the most appropriate?” 

The Ghost King sat in silence for a moment before reaching up to lower his hood. The shadows that had hidden his face disappeared revealing a young man only a little older than Tim. Maybe around Jason’s age. His hair was indeed white, and was braided down the nape of his neck save for the tufts of hair that floated around his face. 

His skin was pale, and Batman thought it might have been gray or even blue in different light. His ears were pointed and his eyes were a haunting green. 

With the hood out of the way, the crown lowered to sit on his head. 

“Phantom.” He finally answered. “You can call me Phantom.” 

Raven bowed her head again and Red Robin beamed. “Thank you for helping us! We literally couldn’t have done it without you.”

Phantom nodded again but without his hood to shield him there was something shy about the action. 

The Flash reappeared in a cloud of dust, two bags of fast food in one hand and a collection of drinks under the other arm. “I got a little of everything!” He announced. “Got some burgers and some chicken nuggets and fries and onion rings. There’s one of those little apple pies in here somewhere too.

Phantom took the bags with a small smile and set them beside him so he could go through them. Superboy helped with the drinks, setting everything down so Phantom could have his pick. There were three different sodas, a lemonade, and a water. 

It wasn’t fancy and probably wasn’t a fair trade of a meal for his services but he didn’t seem disappointed. 

In a flash of rings made of light, Phantom transformed. The otherness of him was still there, but instead of a noble king of a realm, a young…very living human was in his place. Black hair instead of white was still braided down his neck and the strands around his face hung limp instead of floating. 

Those eerie green eyes were now blue but that– oddly enough– was not the most startling thing about his transformation. He wore a large hoodie and jeans but his feet were bare. 

His hands and feet were almost skeletal, and his face was gaunt and starved looking. His eyes were slightly sunken and his skin was a sickly kind of pale. 

He looked emaciated, but there was the smallest of smiles on his face when he ate one fry and then another. He took a sip from every drink offered to him and then took a bite out of the burger. 

They couldn’t help but stand there and watch, all of them transfixed over what they were seeing. 

Phantom took two more bites before wrapping up the rest of his burger and placing it back in the bag. 

“Not to your liking?” Flash asked, voice small. 

Phantom licked his fingers and shook his head. “No, it was good. I’m just full. I’ll take it with me and eat it later when i’m hungry again.” 

Batman could only imagine the size of his stomach. Stopping now was probably the healthiest thing he could have done if he wanted to keep the food down. He cleared his throat. “Are you alright?” 

“Mhmm.” Phantom nodded, the rings of light appearing again. He was back in his healthier looking ghostly form. That was an oxymoron, wasn’t it? A healthy ghost form… 

“You’re still alive.” Raven whispered, stuck in her shock. “The living shouldn’t… The Infinite Realm isn’t…” 

Phantom’s lips tipped up in a smile. “You’re right, but wrong. I’m both. I’m dead. I’m alive. I’m balance.” He paused for a moment. “I haven’t been in a living realm for a while… guess i’ve been neglecting that side of me. Thanks for the food, it was a good deal.” 

He was gathering up the bags he clearly planned to take with him. 

“You should come back.” Red Robin spat the words out, likely before giving them any real thought. “I’ll take you to lunch. I’ll take you like… all the time. I am not going to pretend to know what you have going on but… shit, Agent A would disown me if i did not offer to feed you.” 

Phantom looked cold briefly. “Agent… A…?” 

Red Robin winced, “Code name for my grandfather. He’s an amazing cook.” 

“Red Robin.” Batman scowled at him. 

“Oh, what? He’s gonna give you the look for you not being the one to offer.” Red Robin said unapologetically, but the explanation had Phantom softening again. “What do you say? Lunch? Do i have to summon you?” 

“Jesus, Red. Let him actually decline or accept.” Superboy was snickering. 

Phantom looked between them, the confusion on his face clearing up after a beat. A piece of paper appeared between his fingers. It had some kind of squiggle on it none of them could read at a glance. He handed it over to Red Robin. 

“Have that on you, say my name. I’ll find you.” Phantom said. “I should…eat again.” 

“We…appreciate you helping us.” Raven added quickly, determined that they make a good impression. 

Phantom’s look grew warmer again. “It was fun.” With his bags and drinks in his arms, he wandered back over to the summoning circle. “I don’t mind helping when the trouble is severe and you were right. This particular problem was mine to clean up. Sorry about him, by the way. Vortex is an asshole.” 

Superboy and Flash both snorted. “Thanks anyway.” 

Phantom nodded at them again, floating in the middle of the circle before his eyes glowed that bright, toxic green again. He slipped inside the void and disappeared as quickly as he arrived, the remains of the summoning circle erasing itself. 

“So… That happened.” Flash muttered, not sure how they were gonna put this in a report to the rest of the League members. Batman wasn’t so sure either. 

“I can’t believe you were just hitting on the Ghost King, Red.” Superboy laughed. “I mean… Lunches?”

“What?” 

Raven was on her phone. “I am already telling Nightwing.” 

“What!? Hey!” Red Robin was looking between them. “I wasn’t hitting on him. You leave Wing out of this!” 

“No way.” 

“You asked him on a date, man!” Superboy grinned. “All the titans are going to know about this in the next hour.” 

“You guys suck!” Red Robin growled, his face a flame. 

Batman just sighed. “There’s clean up to do. Get to work.” 

He definitely did not need to think about his son’s audacity, coming onto a King of an entire realm. Where did he even learn that kind of behavior?

~~

Masterlist

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Jacaerys returns to Dragonstone after spending some time in Winterfell. He comes back looking differently…and has learned some new things 😏👅🐱

Request: 9 for Jacee ‘’Where have you learned to do that?’’

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (f receiving), slight fingering, assumption of cheating

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

Months have gone by since the prince Jacaerys left for Winterfell to gain House Stark and the North for the cause of his mother, Queen Rhaenyra. His visit should have been a short one, but Cregan Stark insisted he spent more time in the North. According to his letter, Lord Stark had taken a liking to him and wanted Jacaerys to get a true experience of the North. He said that getting closer to the northmen would help gain their support. 

Life on Dragonstone was lonely without him. A part of yourself was missing. 

You spent time with Baela and Rhaena, helped Lucerys get more confident with his dragon, played with Joffrey when no one would. You were in the early stages of a civil war, the adults didn’t have much time for the young boy. The Queen was grateful for your help. 

A few days ago, after you got back from riding your dragon, a raven came from Winterfell — a new message from Jacaerys saying he should be expected to return in the late afternoon. 

Excitement bubbled in your stomach. 

Rushing to your chamber, you didn't want to greet him smelling of dragon. You shed your riding clothes as a handmaid helped you fill your tub with hot water. She added rose oil to make your skin soft and you made sure to scrub extra hard with the brush. You wanted to look nice for Jacaerys. 

After bathing, you put on a clean dress and asked Baela for help with your hair. She was the best at braiding. 

‘’Do you think he missed me while he was away?’’ 

Behind you, Baela chuckled as she twisted your braids and pinned them. ‘’I wouldn't doubt it, Lady Y/N.’’ 

Hearing a dragon's roar, you jumped and went to your window. The air was gloomy, making it difficult to see through the horizon. You bit your lip, searching for an olive green shape. Although he was a small dragon, Vermax’s red wings were easy to discern in the skies.

You glanced over your shoulder to Baela. ‘’They’re here.’’ 

She finished your hair, ensuring every strand fell perfectly in place, and you descended the stairs with Baela on your tracks. 

As you reached the great hall, you saw the Queen and her children standing near the painted table, accompanied by a hubbub of voices. Lucerys talked animatedly about sword practice while a very excited Joffrey was jumping on his feet, excited to see his big brother. Rhaenyra told them to quiet down and give Jacaerys some air, which made you laugh. 

The sound caught their attention, and Jacaerys' eyes shifted to you. 

He had grown since he left — his shoulders broader, his stature more commanding. His once pin-straight hair now cascaded in soft curls that framed his face perfectly. He looked nothing like a Targaryen anymore. 

‘’Jace,’’ you whispered, a smile lighting up your face as you approached him.

For supper, a small feast was held in his honor. Daemon and Rhaena joined you for the meal, raising their cup to Jacaerys’ return. 

When the hour started to get late, you and Jacaerys retired to your chamber. Half-way there up the stairs, he pulled you into a corner of the staircase and kissed you the way he had been dying to since he got back. You pulled a moan out of him when your teeth glided against his bottom lip, and circled your arms around his neck as his hands were gripping your hips with a strength that was new. 

A voice came from the staircase below — probably one of the servants —, prying the two of you apart. You giggled against Jacaerys' shoulder. 

Once you reached the privacy of your chamber, Jacaerys shut the door and drew you to him again as he kissed along your jaw and down your neck. You moaned under the touch of his mouth, melting against him as your fingers worked on each other’s clothes, pulling at the laces and buckles until they fell off your bodies and onto the floor.

You tried to not step on your dress as you walked back to the bed, then let your shift slip down your shoulders and pool at your feet, leaving you fully naked. 

‘’Gods.’’ 

You blushed as Jacaerys followed down your neck to between your legs, taking his time to admire your body. You had never felt truly desired before him. Only objectified — as were all women in Westeros.  

‘’Do you like what you see, my Prince?’’ you asked, his eyes finding their way back to yours. 

Jacaerys didn’t respond. All he did was gently push you down into the bed. 

You expected him to get on the bed too, but to your surprise, he kneeled at the end of it and pulled you close to the edge. A frown drew between your eyebrows as you looked down. You opened your mouth to ask what he was doing on the floor, but the words got caught in your throat as Jacaerys kissed the inside of your thighs. 

It was something new, but not disagreeable.  

Then, he pushed your thighs further apart and pressed the sweetest kiss right over your slit, causing you to squirm. 

‘’Jace, what are you—’’

Your question died on your tongue as he peaked out and flicked your clit, sending a jolting sensation up your core. Jacaerys didn't stop there — he was far from finished with you. He laid his tongue flat and licked a fat strip up your entrance to your clit, stirring a gasp from your lips. 

Your reaction made him smile, encouraging him to pursue. He took a second lick of your cunt, then captured your clit between his lips to suckle at. You let out a mewl of pleasure, your hand traveling down your body to clutch at Jacaerys's soft hair. He alternated between sucking and licking at you, the room filling with obscene noises as your legs tightened on each side of his face, caging him. 

Releasing your clit, Jacaerys slid his tongue between your folds, tasting your arousal on his tongue. You've had his fingers inside you, but never his tongue. Arching your back, you pushed against his face, asking for more. And Jacaerys was happy to give it to you, adding a finger to the mix and pushing deeper inside you.

With your free hand, you clutched the sheets, biting your lips and holding back the moans that wanted to slip out. Had Lucerys’s bedchamber not been so close to yours, you would not have held them back. But y0u didn’t wish to scar his young ears. The poor boy would not be able to look you in the eyes again. 

Jacaerys withdrew his tongue and added a second finger, moving the former back to your clit and making a slobbering mess all over you. 

The rush of pleasure filling your body intensified and you rolled your hips into his face with abandon as your orgasm snapped. Your husband’s name left your lips in a delicate whimper, throwing your head back as he lapped at you, taking everything you were giving him. 

Easing your hands off his hair, you slowed your hips down. 

Jacaerys took the cue and left your pussy alone. 

‘’Where did you learn that?’’ you asked, looking down between your legs as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. 

He rose to his feet and fell back on the bed with you. ‘’The North.’’ 

Your heart sank, and a knot formed in your stomach. Thoughts raced through your mind, thinking he had bedded another woman. You would have never thought that he would commit infidelity.

Seeing the concern etched across your face, Jacaerys reached out to gently cup your cheek, his touch warm and reassuring. ‘’No,’’ he said softly, his eyes searching yours for understanding. ‘’Not…’’ He shook his head. ‘’Never.’’ 

His words washed over you like a wave of relief.

‘’Northmen, when they get drunk, they talk a lot. About their hunts, about their horses, about the things they do to their women in bed. I didn’t know women could be kissed there, but I wanted to try it. Did you…did you enjoy it?’’ 

A smile curled on your lips as you looked at him. His physique may have changed while he was in the North, but inside, he was the same nervous boy you wed in the spring. 

You nodded slowly. ‘’Can you do it again?’’

—

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[fefairys]

this is one is important as fuck i see so many people not understand this and it drives me crazy

"Sburb ruins, mythic challenges, and personal quests generally tend to come off as shallow busywork, stage props, or set pieces in a spurious Hero's Journey. Rose either faintly glimpses this truth at this early stage, or she's just hitting her rebellious teen stride. Either way, she doesn't take the surface value of the quest seriously at all, and only wants to smash it apart and loot the secrets. My sense is that the average reader reacts to this impulse unfavorably. Because readers watch the formula play out so often, they are trained heavily to respect the journey of the hero, to anticipate and crave its fulfillment, to see it as something verging on contractual in their relationship with a story. So a gut-response to this recklessness is like, "ROSE, NO! STOP THAT! You simply must complete your quest and play the rain!" What comes with this view is the feeling that her evolution as a character is only being delayed for a bit while she gets some anti-narrative foolishness out of her system, and then we'll get down to business and watch her do her quest, play a whole BUNCH of rain, and reap the narrative satisfaction. There's just one problem: she never does that. This candy-coated Kiddie Kwest is at no point ever taken seriously by Rose or the narrative itself, nor should it be.

When trying to parse character arcs, we look out for certain beacons. So when we hear "play the rain," we're like, ah, GOT IT. That's Rose's arc. Once she finally gets over this destructive teen bullshit, she can wise up, play the rain, and her arc will be finished. Wrong. This is almost a red herring arc. Her quest on this planet, its patronizing presentation, its intrinsic shallowness, is a mirage surrounding her that represents a fully regimented series of milestones for achievement and personal growth, much as society dubiously presents to young people in many forms. The true arc-within-the-arc is actually an upside-down version of what it appears to be. What Rose is doing now, which seems to be misguided recklessness taking her further away from the truth of herself, is actually better seen as a good start to her real journey: breaching the mirage of regimented growth, exposing it for the charade it is, and pulling the truth out of it. The real conflict in her arc comes not from the fact that she refuses to take it seriously, by destroying it and taking shortcuts. It's the opposite. It's that, upon trashing her planet, she continues to have this nagging sense that she should be taking this quest seriously, much like how a young adult may have a nagging sense of guilt that they aren't "being an adult right" by the time they approach adulthood. And this nagging, unanswerable guilt arises from the truth that the regimentation of adulthood is completely fake. It was always a mirage. Learning this, making peace with it, is part of the growing process for many, and it is for her too." -Andrew Hussie

intrinsically queer as fuck, too, btw

[roosterforme]

Aim for the Sky Part 29 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley returns home to good news and an exhausted wife. Making plans for the future is something he lives for now, but thoughts from his week in Fort Worth seem to linger.

Warnings: Angst, adult language, body image, DILF Roo, masturbation, oral sex, smut, pregnancy topics, lactation kink

Length: 3100 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

"Sweetheart," Bradley sighed. His heart rate finally calmed down after trying several times to reach you by phone. "How are you? How's the Nugget?"

You were quiet for a beat before saying, "We're okay." You did not sound happy, and it was probably because he'd missed several of your calls over the past few days. It wasn't like he meant to, there was just a lot of work and other distractions for him here. 

"Yeah? Not amazing?" He couldn't tell if your laugh was one of annoyance, so he plowed on as he stood from the steps outside the barracks, still sweaty from his run. "I'll be home the day after tomorrow, and then I'll take care of Rosie and everything at the house."

You sighed. "First thing we need to do when you get home is talk."

Bradley froze, brow creased in concern as his hand froze on the door handle. "About what?"

Another soft beat of silence. "We'll figure it out when you get back."

"Figure what out?" He didn't know if you were intentionally being vague, but it was irritating him a bit. "Can't we just talk about it now?"

"Shit." He could hear Rose starting to wail in the background, and it sounded like you dropped your phone. "Roo, I need to go. She had another blowout. I love you."

"I love you, too, Baby Girl."

The call ended before he got to tell you about his week. He was hoping you'd ask him about work, but you didn't even check to see if his first few days fully engrossed in his new role were going well.

You were either stressed close to your breaking point, or something else was bothering you. He went back inside to hit the shower, but his thoughts lingered even when the hot water streamed along his skin. Like there was something he was supposed to remember. He couldn't focus on any one thing, which was irritating in itself. He was ready to head home and get back to work in North Island, but he also wanted to make sure he left Texas with everything in order. He and the admirals needed to make their final selections tomorrow, and then he would know who would be joining him in San Diego in a few weeks.

In his opinion, there were ten exceptional pilots here that would be a good fit at Top Gun. Indigo and Rex were at the top of the list with very promising careers ahead of them, and Bradley was looking forward to eventually joining them in the air.

He really wanted to get home to you and Rose, but he had to get through a dinner in his dress blues first. The young pilots would probably be surprised when he finally joined them for a drink.

When he eventually got into bed, he looked through all of the pictures of his daughter on his phone. There were hundreds of them, which seemed impressive for someone just a few months old. Then he scrolled through wedding photos. And then honeymoon photos, not all of which were rated PG.

"Oh, I remember that night," he murmured to himself when he got to a beautiful collection of pictures of you with your ass in the air, looking back at him over your shoulder. "I remember it very well."

Jesus. You looked so good in these photos, it was absolutely insane. Even the PG ones were hotter than hell. But when you wore that red bikini? Perfection. And now he was hard and already searching for the video you and he made together many, many months ago.

He jerked off in the extra long twin bed, getting harder as he watched the recording of him spanking you and calling you his filthy slut. Then he came all over his abs, thinking about how many times he took you rough in his barracks room in San Diego early on in your relationship. When he thought about the Craftsman house he bought for you more than for himself, he couldn't stop smiling. You made it the first home he had since his mom died. And now he had a daughter.

Counting his blessings was pointless when he knew they all came from you. One more long day and he'd be home with his family. He couldn't stop yawning as he cleaned himself up, and he passed out for the night as soon as he was under the covers.

The next day was a flutter of activity. There was a classroom session in the morning that Bradley had to lead. He wasn't used to talking so much and actually found it exhausting. And everywhere he looked around the room, he could feel indigo eyes on him.

Then the afternoon was filled with flight analysis which solidified in his mind the pilots he wanted to select. After a quick conversation with the admirals when everyone else was dismissed, they were all in agreement.

Later that night at dinner, Bradley got to announce to everyone who had been chosen. There were definitely some unhappy expressions, but he was met with Indigo's smile as she shook his hand after the champagne had been served.

"Congratulations," he told her, juggling his champagne flute to his other hand. 

"Lieutenant Commander," she replied. "You'll have to let me in on the secret of the best bar in Coronado so I know where to hang out in a few weeks. You found the best one here on your own, after all."

He had to chuckle. He hadn't been back to that bar since his first night in Texas, despite the best efforts of some of the officers. "I have no doubt you'll find it without my help."

She released his hand, eyes roaming his face before settling on his mustache. "I'm sure I will. Are you sticking around for another drink?" she asked hopefully when he set his empty glass on a passing tray.

"Early flight tomorrow morning," he shrugged. "And I'm still not used to this time zone, so I shouldn't. I don't want to miss it."

She nodded once as he turned to leave, and her parting words stuck in his mind. "I can't wait to see you at Top Gun, Lieutenant Commander."

Bradley was going to have to keep an eye on her. He didn't want her trying to gain any sort of advantage over the others. Her gaze was warm on his back as he headed to the silent barracks alone.

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

The flight to San Diego was turbulent. You would have hated it, but Bradley slept the whole time like a pro. He should have spent the time reading his notes for work on Monday, but he decided it was more important to get a nap in so he could let you rest for the weekend. He had everything planned out on his mind, including making dinner tonight and taking Rose and Tramp for a beach walk tomorrow. That would give you sufficient time to rest.

He was expecting you to look worn out, but when he rushed through baggage claim to find you, he was still surprised by what he found. Rose was crying in your arms, and you looked on the verge of tears yourself. You were wearing one of his ratty shirts he reserved for days he was doing yardwork, and you had on his sweatpants which were rolled up and tied at your waist.

"Baby Girl," he called out, drawing your gaze to his. There was spit up on the burp cloth draped over your shoulder, and Rose seemed to cry louder the closer he got. "Are you okay?"

When you started nodding, it quickly turned into you shaking your head as he got close enough to wrap his arms around both of you. Bradley was immediately lost in the sweet smell of his daughter as he buried his nose against her fuzzy hair and inhaled. He let his lips trail soft kisses along her forehead before taking her from your arms.

"Tell me what's wrong," he whispered, kissing your lips. "Tell me so I can fix it."

He hushed Rose and kept his face close to yours as you cried softly. "Nothing's wrong. Or maybe... I don't know, Roo. I'm fucking pregnant," you sobbed.

Surely he'd misheard. "What did you say?" he gasped, arm wrapping around your waist, pulling you in tighter as you cried and nodded. "You're seriously pregnant?"

"Yes."

"Holy shit." A dizzying smile curled along his lips. "Hell yes!" This was incredible news as far as he was concerned, but you were still crying as your face came to rest against his chest. Then his stomach lurched, because he'd missed several of your calls this week. You must have known for days as you'd been trying to reach him.

He bounced Rose gently in the crook of his arm, listening to her cries soften until she settled against him as well. "Sweetheart. You're not happy about this?"

Your tear streaked cheeks drew his lips as you looked up at him. "I don't know, Bradley," you whispered, voice harsh. "I just don't know what to think at all. I'm sure it happened in La Jolla, when I was supposed to be on the pill."

When your voice broke on a fresh sob, Bradley led you toward his duffle bag which had appeared on the baggage carousel, and he scooped it up seamlessly. Somehow he kept both of his girls close all the way to your red Bronco, his heart hammering the whole time. He was obsessed with his role as a father, and to him this was a best case scenario. He just needed you to understand how he felt about this.

After buckling Rose into her car seat, she was immediately asleep. Then he laced his fingers with yours, leading you around to the passenger side door, kissing your forehead.

"I love you, Sweetheart," he promised, tipping your face up to meet his eyes. "And I'd love another baby. Is this what we needed to talk about?"

"Yeah," you whispered. "This week was so long, and Rose has been miserable. And I could barely reach you on the phone, and-"

"I'm home now. Let me take care of my family." He let his hand trail down to your belly as he kissed you hard.

Once you were buckled in as well, you were sound asleep before Bradley had the Bronco out of the airport loop. By the end of the weekend, he would have your doubts about baby number two erased, replaced with the joy he felt over growing his family. 

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

You weren't sure how he managed to get both you and Rose inside the house without you waking up, but he did it. Hours later, you rolled over in bed, eyes cracking open when you heard Bradley playing with the baby in the living room. Your whole body ached from exhaustion, but it was your tender breasts that sent you to find them so you could get some relief.

The fact that you still didn't know how you felt about the positive pregnancy test now that Bradley knew about it as well just added to your fatigue. It was almost too much to consider at the moment. Another baby. Another smaller baby crying at night. A chorus of cries, and two babies spitting up.

When you found your shirtless husband laying on the floor with Rose giggling as she balanced on his chest while Tramp licked his face, you couldn't help but smile. He was singing a ridiculous song and tickling her sides. You felt guilty for being so scared about having a second child when you let your fingers rest on your tummy and watched him. He was a natural. Sometimes you felt like you were struggling through parenting, but Bradley made it seem so easy.

"I know it's a lot of responsibility for someone so small, but you're already getting your first rank promotion," he murmured, leaning up to kiss her cheek. "Big sister Bradshaw, you need to report for duty next year."

When you found yourself laughing, Bradley met your eyes and smiled. "How was your nap, Mommy?"

"I feel a lot better," you replied, yanking your shirt over your head, drawing your husband's gaze to your chest as you unhooked your bra. "How did you get her to calm down?"

Bradley looked a bit dazed as he stared at your bare chest. "The Nugget just missed me," he murmured, breathing a little heavy. His cheeks were tinged with pink as you reached for Rose to feed her. "Holy fucking shit, Sweetheart. We're having another baby." You nodded a bit helplessly, feeling so overwhelmed as your daughter latched on to eat as soon as you were sitting on the couch. "Two Nuggets," he said, petting Tramp as he stood. "And another year or more of my wife lactating."

You were dreading the weight gain and nausea and lack of sleep, but when he looked at you like this, it was hard to feel unappealing. Bradley's eyes were absolutely fixed on the beads of milk rolling down to your belly as Rose eventually switched sides.

"Can I have a turn when she naps?" he rasped, adjusting his gym shorts, absolutely unashamed. "It's been a week. I need it."

Soon enough, you had him in bed, practically curled up on your lap with his lips all over your breasts. "We're supposed to be talking about plans for another baby," you whispered, loving the scrape of his mustache against your skin. "I have a lot of concerns."

Bradley moaned, releasing you with a soft pop. "We can talk while I enjoy you," he promised. "What are you concerned about?"

He ran his nose along your taut nipple, and you moaned his name. "Bradley. One baby is expensive. How are we going to manage two? And we'll need to get another crib. And I have to make an appointment with Dr. Morris. And I can't believe you got me pregnant again while Rose is still a baby."

His lips grazed along your sensitive skin, and you were helpless to do anything but let your fingers thread through his hair. "What's so hard to believe?" he whispered. "We worked at it for months to have Rose, so this seems fair. And it's not like I can keep my dick out of your pussy. It was bound to happen whether you missed a pill or not." His tongue was warm as he lapped at you, his big hand splayed low on your belly. "I couldn't be fucking happier."

"Bradley," you gasped, back arching at his touch.

"We'll figure it out. I promise," he crooned. "Two babies. I'm so in love, Baby Girl. And you'll be nice and round again soon. Holy hell."

You didn't want to point out that your belly was still chubby and your hips were still round. Not when he was praising everything about you and the situation the two of you were caught up in. Two babies. Two. He was whining your name and rubbing himself against you, and next thing you knew, he had you on your back, legs flung over his shoulders. 

He ate your pussy, taking his sweet time about it while his thumb traced your tattoo. He drew out your orgasm slowly. His lips were latched onto your clit as his big hands kept you spread wide. "Missed you. Love you," he hummed, kissing his way along your slick. "Making me a Daddy all over again, Sweetheart."

"Roo," you whispered, keeping him where you needed him with your hands in his hair. "Daddy."

You came on his face, pussy needy and clenching at nothing before he shoved his cock inside you. The feral sound you made as your orgasm intensified, gripping him as he groaned and grunted in your ear, was loud enough to wake Rose from her nap. But you couldn't stop when he made you feel so good you nearly blacked out.

"I love you. And Rose. And our perfect baby we haven't met quite yet."

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

By the end of the weekend, you were smiling more. The naps you were afforded by having Bradley back home definitely helped, he could tell. But you seemed more at ease with the idea of two children close in age the more you and he talked about it.

"We have some options," he whispered, kissing you as you snuggled up with him on the couch on Sunday night. The episode of Real Housewives of Beverly Hills was playing in the background, but he'd lost interest in it before it even started. "We can move Rose to the bedroom by the stairs, or we can turn that into nursery number two."

You crinkled your nose. "That's so far away from our bedroom."

"But we can't move Rose upstairs yet."

"No way," you agreed. "Maybe they can share a room?"

"Hmm. That would make it easier for Tramp to nap with both of them at the same time."

Your laughter made him feel so much better as he snuggled you closer. He could happily fall asleep like this until it was time to go to work tomorrow.

"Oh," you murmured, "I didn't even ask about your time in Texas."

Bradley immediately pictured startlingly blue eyes as you laced your fingers with his. "Was good," he replied, realizing just how much busier his life was about to become. A new role at work and a new baby. Students to teach and two kids at home.

"Tell me all about it," you murmured, stifling a yawn.

He found there wasn't much to talk about other than Indigo and Rex, and he didn't want to bore you. "Maybe I was a bit stingy, but I only invited ten pilots to come to Top Gun. Two will more than likely make it through the program. The rest... we'll see."

"Who are the two that will make it through?" 

Your yawns grew in intensity as you closed your eyes, and he knew you needed to get plenty of sleep. Bradley kissed the tip of your nose, figuring you would be asleep before he finished his sentence. "Rex and Indigo, but Indigo is the best."

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

Baby number two! The Nuggets are multiplying! Roo needs to keep his head in the game if he wants a happy wife. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 30

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@furiousladyking

@godsfavoritebabe

@bethabear12

@halo-mystic

@sherlockstrangewolf

@theamuz

@khaylin27

@glenpowellluver

[beautifulsenpai]

I have a request if you don’t mind doing it!

Lovestruck Endeavor x Recovery Girl’s Grandson

Endeavor is deeply in love with Recovery Girl’s grandson that works with her in U.A, a quirk that is related to her, and has…some man tits. Endeavor would give the male reader presents like red roses with heart balloons attached to them, expensive jewelry and would bring male reader their favorite food every time he visits male reader in the nurse’s office to show his love for him. Male reader doesn’t feel the same way for some reasons, the age gap is a reason, Endeavor is 45 and male reader is 20 but male reader doesn’t want to hurt his feelings, so he has to go along with it.

You could add some parts as well, maybe non-con?

✧˚ ༘ ⋆HIS NURSE | LOVESTRUCK ENJI TODOROKI

endeavor has a pretty big crush on recovery girl’s cute young grandson.

tw/cw. male reader, age gap, dubious consent kissing and groping, reader is 20 in this fic, enji being a creep

senpai’s note. wanna request a fic, or headcanon? look at my requesting rules before requesting darling. sorry for taking a long break. rules/requesting, masterlists

(name) sighed as he plopped down onto the recovery girl’s office chair that he had taken over for the time being. recovery girl was taking a long-needed break, and (name) took the position to fill for her, since both of them have the same quirk. the job was going fine, even sometimes fun.

taking care of injured or sick students was a highlight of his day, it felt nice to see the kids get better, and it’s funny how flustered they can get when (name) has to give them a kiss to treat their wounds. it was truly nice until he met endeavor, the current number-one pro hero.

(name) had bumped into endeavor in a hallway in U.A. endeavor was truly memorized from his presence, from how (name’s) pouty lips were pink and plumped that looked so kissable to his nurse uniform that hugged his waist nicely, showing off his curves. neither of them didn’t say anything, (name) felt too awkward while endeavor was busy admiring his beauty.

after that encounter, endeavor couldn’t keep his eyes off (name) and wouldn’t leave him alone. every opportunity that endeavor had, he would visit (name) in the nurse’s office. he would bring him lunch, yummy desserts, or even luxury gifts. this surprised (name), especially when did endeavor to find out that he had a sweet tooth. endeavor even allowed him to address him by his first name.

later on, (name) figured out that the scary man had a crush on him, endeavor never told him that so he put the pieces together and the result is endeavor having a crush on him. (name) felt flattered, but he didn’t feel like it wouldn’t work. first of all, he thought that endeavor was a married man. second of all, (name) was still a young adult while endeavor was in his late middle age. lastly, he just felt uneasy around the man.

but, the kind-hearted man he was, he continued to let endeavor to do as he pleased, even if he had to suffer. back to the present, (name) rocked the chair side to side with a frown plastered on his face. the other pro heroes/teachers invited the nurse to have lunch with them since they���ve gotten along great for the past week.

that was a nice gesture, but he sadly declined. he didn’t want to see or interact with endeavor. endeavor would’ve most likely joined his comrades since he thought (name) would be there. he kept coming up with excuses for why he couldn’t join his new friends, and it was getting tiring. some were true, and some were lies.

(name) sighed once again as he looked towards his desk, eyeing the bouquet of roses lying there that endeavor purchased for him when (name) arrived in the morning. he recalled how endeavor told him that “the roses are as gorgeous as him”. the flattery and the gift did make his cheeks go red. (name) hummed, he should remind himself later to get a flower pot with water for the roses.

unexpectedly, there was a sudden knock on the door. (name) attention turned from the flowers to the door. was it a student? he continued to observe the door until he (name) finally responded, “come in”. he wouldn’t have spoken if he had known who was behind that door. the wooden door slid open slowly to reveal endeavor with a slight blush on his cheeks, while one of his hands was occupied with something.

he was wearing his hero attire, but the beard and mustache that were made of fire were missing, showing off his massive scar on his face. (name’s) eyes slightly widen as well as his mouth. he quickly stood up, accidentally knocking pens and pencils off the desk from the chair colliding with the desk.

“e-endeavor! hello! g-good to see you again! i thought you joined with the others for lunch!-”, (name) nervous stammering was interrupted. “i’ve told you to call me enji”, enji stated in his low voice that sent shivers down (name’s) spine. “r-right..”, (name) muttered while a bead of sweat rolled down his cheek.

“i had heard that you weren’t joining with the heroes.”, enji spoke as stepped inside the nursery. he stood in front of (name), his tall figure hovering over his petite frame. (name) nodded, “yes, i have too much..p-paperwork to get done!”, he answered as he pointed back to the stack of papers that were sat on top of his desk.

he glanced at the stack of paper, and (name) was indeed telling the truth. enji nodded, he understood. enji stared back at the nurse as he lifted a pink cloth that wrapped around a bento box to (name). (name) eyed the bento box with a brow raised. he was hesitant to grab it, but he took it regardless. “fuyumi made it just for you”, enji added as he looked away his cheeks flushed red.

(name) knew fuyumi, well not exactly. enji had talked about his kids to him and they sounded lovely. the only child (name) who had interacted with him was shoto. shoto only came to him when he was wounded, and he hardly got to know him. shoto was highly serious and clear-headed, but there was some sweetness about him, and that is what made (name) take a liking to him.

(name) smiled warmly at the bento box, he wondered if enji had talked about him to his kids. “could you please tell her that i highly appreciate it, i’m sure it tastes delicious!”, (name) giggled as he smiled brightly at enji. enji eyes slightly widened and his cheeks burned brighter as he felt his heart beating loudly. “hm..”, enji hummed.

after that, enji left the infirmary to let (name) continue his work, and eat the food in the bento in peace. he was grateful, as soon he took a bite of the food, he thought he would die of joy. the food tasted delightful. if he ever met fuyumi, he would ask for some recipes from her.

‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🎀 ⋅ ˚✮ 🧸

the sun has started to set, all the students went to their dorms while the heroes had their hero duties to attend to. (name) had already finished with his lunch, and it was delicious. (name) was busy typing away on the computer that was on the desk. papers, folders, pencils, and pens were scattered around the desk.

he was too invested in staring at the computer screen to realize the infirmary door slid open and someone walking in. footsteps were coming closer to him, but (name) didn’t notice, until two large hands grasped onto his shoulders. (name’s) typing had come to a halt, his eyes widened as he shuddered in his chair, and he felt his heart stop beating from the scare.

“relax (name), it’s me”, enji reassured him as he gently rubbed (name’s) shoulders to comfort him. (name) sighed in relief but he continued to be on edge. how enji was massaging his shoulders made him feel uneasy. he couldn’t just tell enji to stop his actions, that would just be impolite, after all, enji was just being affectionate.

“s-sorry, you startled me..”, (name) trembled as he tried not to focus on what enji was doing. his eyes looked somewhere else besides enji as sweat beads started to form. the awkward silence was finally broken. “i’ve bought you a gift”, enji stated with a hint of delight in his voice. (name) wasn’t surprised.

now and then, when they both bumped into each other or if endeavor visited the infirmary, he would have a gift in his grasp for (name). whether it be something thoughtful or something luxurious. (name) had told him many times that he didn’t want him to spend his hard-earned money on him, but enji was stubborn as ever and wouldn’t listen.

“you did wha-”, (name) didn’t even finish what he was going to say. the chair was turned around quickly by enji, making him release a shriek. (name) was faced with enji revealing a black medium-sized jewelry box that was topped off with a white ribbon. endeavor slowly opened the box, revealing a sparkling continuous oval diamond necklace.

(name’s) eyes widened, his mouth agape slightly as he stared at the gorgeous and expensive necklace. he couldn’t accept the lavish gift, but endeavor wouldn’t let that happen, (name) couldn’t refuse if he wanted to. enji saw how (name) was memorized by the luxuriant gift he happily bought for him, and he smirked with pride.

“here, let me assist you with placing it around your neck”, endeavor requested with a small smile present on his face. (name) hesitated, but agreed. “o-okay..”, (name) muttered as he slowly rose from the chair, and turned around for endeavor to have easier access to his neck. endeavor didn’t waste this opportunity to look at (name’s) backside.

he looked at his neck he desperately wanted to mark to his waist that he could easily snatch, and then to his plump ass that he extremely wanted to place his hands onto, he bet that it felt soft and squishy. endeavor pushed those thoughts away to focus on his task, putting on this gorgeous necklace around the most beautiful man he ever laid his eyes on.

endeavor carefully removed the necklace from the box, as he safely grasped it. he gently placed the necklace around (name’s) neck as he made sure not to accidentally harm (name) and then fastened the clasp securely. as the necklace was finally around the male’s necklace, endeavor smirked in pride.

knowing that his wealth would “impress” (name), and his money would take care of him for the rest of his life swelled him up with honor. the thought of (name) being his adorable househusband, taking care of the house while enji would shower with him luxury would make his face flush, and even sometimes a boner.

(name) reached for the necklace, his hands roamed the necklace carefully, fingers intertwined with the diamonds attached to the necklace. maybe..he was wrong about enji. (name) didn’t mention this earlier but he thought that enji was a weird old man that had an obsession with him.

it’s just a silly crush that enji would forget about. (name) smiled fondly, “thank you enji, it’s lovely-”. oh, how (name) wished he took those words back. endeavor craned (name’s) neck upwards to try to meet his face level as his lips met (name’s). (name’s) eyes widen in horror, his body flinches as his felt endeavor’s big hand gripped onto his hip.

endeavor’s eyes were shut as he focused on the kiss, he felt like he was on cloud nine. this was like a fairy tale, this was finally happening. how badly (name) wanted to push the man away, and slap him..but the outcome of it. call him selfish, but he doesn’t want to see the large man heartbroken, he wouldn’t live with himself if he was the cause of the endeavor’s depressive behavior.

the fear of the one interfering with the endeavor’s hero work. (name) shook those upset thoughts away as he hesitantly kissed back, closing his eyes. endeavor noticed it made his cheeks turn pink. (name) had finally fallen in love with him as much as he does with (name), that’s what endeavor has thought. (name’s) heart was pounding, and his knees started to feel like jelly.

endeavor realized (name’s) state. he quickly pressed (name) to the wall, trapping him. a grunt left (name’s) lips but that was swallowed up by the kiss. (name) tried to hold himself up. his hands grabbing onto the walls to prevent himself from falling. (name) felt disgusted with himself, he shouldn’t let this man take advantage of him, but he’s allowing him.

endeavor’s hands were placed on (name’s) hips, rubbing them up, and down as their kiss was getting heated. the intimate touches were making (name) hot and bothered, and he was whimpering from the sensation. endeavor’s hand continued to roam (name’s) body until his hands landed on (name’s) ass.

(name) gasped, and endeavor quickly invaded his mouth with his tongue. (name) was taken back by the sudden intrusion, but didn’t complain or even push the man off. tears threatened to spill from (name’s) eyes, endeavor’s tongue was a bit big for his mouth to fit in so he would gag at times.

their tongues tangled together fighting for dominance, but it was endeavor who was doing that crap, he wanted to take full control as drool leaked from (name’s) mouth. (name) was panting in the open-mouthed kiss, this will soon blow over, right? this silly “little” crush?

[reiderwriter]

The One Thing You Can't Have

Pairing: Spencer Reid × Female Reader (DBF! Spencer × Hotchner! Reader)

Summary: After five years away, you move back to your hometown. Reconnecting with many of your father's friends and coworkers, you start to get suspicious when you lose multiple pairs of panties. Or; Spencer risks it all by stealing Hotch's adult daughter's underwear. And maybe her heart, too.

Warnings: Day 15 of Kinktober - panties, mentions canon character death, age difference (ten years), panties, underwear kink, underwear stealing, masturbation, sexual fantasies discussed, PinV Sex, clitoral stimulation, partial creampie, mentions of emergency contraception

A/N: It is done! I shit you not the writing time on this is longer than most of the fics I've ever written, it took me so long that I don't have any other fics prewritten for Kinktober now and have to spend the day hastily writing them... But it was worth it. As always, you can find all my work in my masterlist and all my kinktober fics here. My requests are open until the end of the month, so if there's a specific fic you want, don't hesitate to let me know!

With your family the way it was, you'd dealt with a lot over the years. Aaron Hotchner loved his wife and kids, but that hadn't been enough to protect you from George Foyet. When your mom and kid brother had gone into protective custody, you'd been away at college, and apart from a protective detail, they'd not seen fit to move you anywhere special at all. Foyet was so caught up on your mom that he'd forgotten you existed.

When you got the call from your dad that Foyet was resurfacing, you'd known in your gut that you had to go back. You'd ditched your handlers and driven through the night but when you arrived at the house you'd grown up in, all you could see was police lights and caution tape.

You'd run as fast as you could into the house, but a pair of strong arms grabbed you and lifted you away as you screamed and sobbed. Derek Morgan held you firm as he tried to calm you, but you barely registered his words.

"My mom is in there, my dad too, and Jack, let me fucking go, Derek." You'd only stopped raging when they'd bought out the first body bag. And then the second.

The anguish that filled your lungs stole your breath and you didn't know it was you screaming until your throat was red and completely sore. Another set of hands led you away and into an ambulance, skillfully anticipating your needs.

"Y/N, look at me. Look at my eyes, we're going to breathe together, okay?" Staring up into his dark eyes you suddenly remembered that you needed the air to breathe, his calm voice bringing you back to life.

He was wearing an FBI vest but you'd never seen him before. Not a surprise since you'd avoided everything to do with your father's job for the last five years. You only really knew Derek from when he'd been sent to deliver the news to you about Foyet's initial targeting of you.

The Man in front of you was young, but still older than you. He was tall, but he'd shrunk himself down into the space, leaning over you so that he was the only thing you could see. He looked tired, but he was the only thing for miles around keeping you grounded and you clung to him in desperation.

"My Name is Doctor Spencer Reid, I work with your dad. You're Y/N, right?" His voice was soft and even, like he was taming a temperamental animal. Even though you knew what he was doing, trying to calm you so he could deliver a devastating blow, you let him do it, drinking in each word as total calm swept over you. You nodded at him and waited for him to continue.

"Your brother is fine, he's at your aunt's house, he didn't touch him. Your dad is in the hospital and they think he's going to pull through, but he was stabbed a few times so he's going to be weak for a while." You searched his eyes for the words he wasn't saying as panic rose in your body.

"My mom, where is my mom? Haley Hotchner, she's… She should have been with Jack, where is she?" The look in his eyes was enough to tell you what in your heart you already knew. Your mom was in that bag and your family was broken, again.

You don't know what happened next, but you knew you were bundled up in Spencer Reid's arms and clinging to him for dear life. You knew he'd somehow got you to your aunt's house, and you knew he'd stayed until you were ready to let him go. Even years later you don't know how long he'd held you. Maybe only minutes, maybe hours. He had let you sit and grieve, finding small comfort in the contours of his body.

After that, college wasn't a priority for you. Your brother was only a baby, and he needed you around, so even the three-hour drive upstate seemed too far to be away from him. You stuck around, taking your courses as remotely as they'd let you for the semester and struggling for it.

Your dad felt guilty, of course. For your mom, for the derailing of your life, and for the way he had to keep leaving because that was the job. In all honesty, you didn't mind being home more at that time.

There was Jack, who was great, and your Aunt was so much like your mom that sometimes it was like she was still with you, even a little bit. And there was Spencer, too.

After it had become evident that you were going to fail the only required course you were taking that semester (algebra was your enemy), your dad had sought out the only person he knew with a good grasp of mathematics and no weekend plans and roped them into tutoring you. Which meant that your weekends were suddenly fully booked by him.

He seemed a little different from the first time you’d met him, but that was a given considering the circumstances. He held himself a little taller, and more relaxed as he talked about the kinds of equations you were supposed to use and formulas you were supposed to memorize. He was attentive but not too close, and he’d shown up with shorter hair and now that you could see more of his face, more of his neck, you found yourself getting distracted by the oddest things. The stubborn but small stubble on his neck, the way sweat trailed down his face, the movement of his Adam’s Apple as he swallowed, the way the breeze from your open window tousled his hair.

It took you a distractingly long time to realize that you were physically attracted to him, but when you did realize, it was suddenly all you could think about. You spent most of your days working on math so you’d have some excuse to call or text him. The mornings before your lessons together you’d taken to hogging the bathroom long enough to shave, wash and dry your hair and apply a natural but still skilled amount of make-up. You were surprised that neither of the big bad profilers had caught onto the stench of your puppy love, because you were dripping with desperation.

He never budged of course, too oblivious or too noble to lay a hand on an eighteen-year-old. Or just smart enough to know not to lay a hand on his boss's daughter.

You certainly weren’t making it easy for him though.

“Spencer, what do you think of my outfit today? I’m going out with some friends from high school tonight for a meal, do I look okay?” You’d twirled for him innocently, knowing full well the speed of your spin would throw your already short skirt up past your panties for a split second.

“I don’t think I’m the best person to ask about clothes, Y/N. Maybe ask your dad.” His flush was evident enough that you knew it had worked but his hands were rigid by his sides and he carefully guided you back to the topic at hand.

It turned out that after a semester of tutoring, you’d become such a whizz at mathematics that you’d passed with flying colors. You’d been so excited to tell Spencer that you drove straight to Quantico, using the family pass your father had given you for emergencies to gain access. Spencer didn’t know what hit him when you launched yourself into his arms and wrapped your legs around him, but he’d somehow stayed upright as you buried your face once again in his neck.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, Spencer! I got an A, the Professor was so shocked by my improvement that he asked me if I’d cheated. When I dropped your name, he freaked.” Spencer’s eyes were wide and blinking frantically as his hands struggled to find a place to hold you. You’d worn another scandalously low skirt and it seemed the only way to pry you off of him was to put a hand on or dangerously close to your ass.

You enjoyed watching his internal struggle, and so did quite the number of FBI agents, until your father spoiled the fun by walking out of his office to check the commotion.

“Y/N Hotchner, get down from there, now.” Your father rarely raised his voice at you, choosing a softer approach to parenting than many would expect. That meant that on the rare occasion that he did feel the need to speak up, you shut your mouth and listened. Detangling yourself from Spencer’s arms with an awkward smile, you tried your best to nonchalantly bounce over to your father and explain why you were there.

He motioned for you to follow him to his office, and you complied, letting one ear stay clear to focus on the sound of Reid being teased by all of his coworkers about the scene you’d just caused.

Your dad didn’t exactly scold you for the incident, so much as he tried to insinuate that you should head back home, and then head back to college, too. With months between you and the Foyet incident, he’d been hinting at letting you get back to your life for a while, but your stunt with Reid had him suddenly addressing it more overtly.

To say that your family dinner that night was a pain in the ass was an understatement.

“Y/N, Daddy said you went to his work today!” Jack had started the conversation, and you knew the tactical warfare was beginning.

“That’s right, buddy! I had to thank Spencer for helping me with my schoolwork.” You smiled at your brother before turning a suspicious glance toward your dad, who sat peacefully eating his dinner. The fact that you were even all eating together should’ve alerted you to something going on behind the scenes.

“Uncle Spencer is the best!” It wasn’t Jack’s fault he’d just given your father the best ammunition he could’ve asked for.

“Do you agree, Y/N? Do you think your Uncle Spencer is the best?” He was using his calm interrogation voice and you hated it.

“Dad, please, he’s not that much older than me, it’s weird for me to call him Uncle.”

“He’s ten years your senior, Y/N. You know that right?” You didn’t move as your eyes locked together with his, as he seemingly asked a more serious question in the subtext. You weren’t ready to answer it though, and so you buckled under the pressure, looking away first and eating the rest of your meal in silence.

Without saying much of a goodbye to any member of your father’s teammates, you decided that it was about time you continued with your life, not letting the actions of George Foyet hold you in a standstill any longer. You went back to college full-time, got your degree, and got a job in a city near your college town. You came back home regularly, but in the five years since your mother's death, you hadn’t talked to or heard from Spencer Reid.

Job opportunities were better in D.C. though, so after growing up and having some time away, you came right back to your childhood home, ready to start over. It was only temporary, of course, and you had a job lined up, but apartments were so hard to come by, especially ones that were actually livable, that you needed to do a lot of searching to find one that felt right.

So your dad’s home it was. With Jack a bit older and constantly away at school or clubs or friend’s houses, and your dad’s schedule the way it was, you’d practically got the house to yourself. And after living alone and with female roommates for half a decade, you’d almost grown too comfortable in your own skin. The summer between your move and the start of your new job was hot and sticky, and you found yourself taking more and more cold showers after your morning workouts.

Normally at 11 a.m., you had the house to yourself, and you’d happily stroll around in a small towel and dry yourself off. If your father or brother were home, you’d cover yourself up a bit more, sure, or just head to your room quicker, obviously.

So emerging from your shower, the last thing you expected was coming face to face with Doctor Spencer Reid sitting on your couch, the one that was directly on your path between the bathroom you’d just emerged from and the room you needed to be in. You cursed your father and his practically-sized apartment as you floundered your way through a greeting of the man you hadn’t seen in five years.

“Spencer, hi. What... What are you doing on my dad’s couch?” You clutched the towel close to your body, trying not to shiver as he trailed his eyes over your body, eyes just as big and wide as the last time you’d seen him.

“We were on our way to a local crime scene, he went to grab something from…” His voice trailed off as he pointed towards the master suite where you could now faintly hear the sound of your dad on the phone to someone.

“Right. Great. I should probably…” You gestured to the room and quickly started making your way toward it, trying not to visibly cringe at the most awkward post-shower interaction you’d ever had.

“What are you doing here?” His voice shot out quickly, and you whipped around so fast, that you almost panicked and dropped the towel completely.

“Oh, I… Did my dad not mention? I got a job at a company nearby, so I moved back. I’m staying here with Dad and Jack until I can find a decent apartment.”

“Oh, wow. Well, it’s nice to have you back. It’s been like five years since you left, right?” His tone was bright and he was nodding his head, but the words set fire to your nerve endings as you remembered that you’d practically run away from him. Even after half a decade, he was having a physical impact on you.

“Yeah, that sounds about right. You have a good memory.”

“You know, I get that a lot.” His grin ignited something in your chest, and you gathered the laundry you’d left on the sofa and quickly excused yourself before you could prove yourself more of a idiot than you could already make a case for.

Spencer watched you go, wondering just when Hotchner was going to emerge from his hiding place to attack him for so openly ogling his half-naked daughter. He stood on the spot staring at your door for a moment too long before dragging his eyes away. Unluckily for him, what he found on the floor had him panicking all over again.

“Y/N, your forgot…” He grabbed the lacy material in his fingers and went to open the door before stopping, realizing that you were probably completely bare behind that door now. The thought sent him into a tailspin, and he once again stood clueless for a beat too long with a pair of your freshly laundered panties in his hands.

He considered dropping them back on the floor, but he didn’t want them to get dirty again after you’d washed them so nicely. He should’ve just left them on the sofa for you to find later, but when Hotch’s voice grew louder and clearer behind him, fear took over and he shoved them into the closest hiding space he could find. His pocket.

“Callahan found something for us at the ME’s office, she’s meeting us at the precinct, let’s go.”

And just like that he was out the door, and he had officially signed his own death warrant.

You never noticed that the first pair went missing. When it became a pattern though, you did become suspicious. Three pairs of underwear in thirty days seemed a bit much, and unless your building's laundry machines were eating them, you had no clue where they could've been.

It's not that Spencer even meant to do it any of the times he did. But when he'd returned home that first day, overwhelmed with the caseload he'd been handed and found the offending item still right there in his coat pocket, the blood had rushed straight to his head.

He'd spent a half hour in agony staring at them, trying to smooth them out so they wouldn't get crumpled, his dick twitching at every slight movement he made. It had been quite a few months since he'd had sex, never really one for casual hook-ups. But if the result of several months of celibacy was stealing underwear then he thought maybe it would be best to have sex sooner rather than later.

He couldn't resist the temptation. Popping the button of his pants, he'd taken his cock in his hand and worked his way up and down his shaft imagining you dropping that towel. He imagined you wearing the panties and nothing else as you replaced his hand with your mouth, desperate to please. Taking the panties in his hand, he began directly masturbating into them, wishing so needily that you were still inside them.

When he shot his load, he soaked them through, and the shame that overcame him was intense and swift.

You never realized that he'd somewhat avoided you after that, doing his best to stay away for fear he'd let his perversions rule his actions. You had somehow made yourself unavoidable though.

The first time he saw you again it was at one of Rossi's family get-togethers. It had been years since you'd seen some of the members of the team, so you were really looking forward to it. Plus, Rossi had boasted of a recently installed pool and jacuzzi within his invitation, and you were excited to check them out with the fine summer weather actually staying fine.

You'd brought your bikini with you and changed in one of the ground-floor bathrooms, wrapping another towel around yourself before you finally made your way to the pool. But once again, wrapped in a towel, you'd come face to face with Spencer Reid.

"Y/N, I didn't know you were coming." He looked like a deer caught in the headlights, and this time worked especially hard to not let his gaze travel all over your skin. He regretted his entire existence as he realized he'd have to hide his micro-expressions around countless profilers, some of whom were present and accounted for when you'd last been seen together.

Derek was going to give him hell.

"Yeah, Uncle David invited me! I'm so excited for the jacuzzi, I haven't been in one since college."

"You call Rossi 'Uncle David?'" The thought had tickled him, humor sparkling in his eyes as he finally smiled at you.

"Why yes I do, and if you're not careful, my dad is going to make me start calling you Uncle Spencer again." You skipped off merrily after that, leaving your spare clothes and your discarded ones in the bathroom Reid had obviously been waiting for.

His smile soured as he realized the impact of your words. Uncle Spencer. Huh. Some fucking "Uncle" he was. He washed his hands thoroughly, having spilled some kind of drink down himself before greeting you, as his eyes fell to the pile of clothes you'd left neatly in the corner.

He tried to tell himself he couldn't do it again, but curiosity and arousal lit up his entire body and carried him forward. Jeans, a t-shirt, socks, and shoes were left tidily discarded, but he couldn't obviously see any underwear. There was a second pile of neat clothes and he looked at that one thoroughly as well, but after a minute it was evident that you'd hidden your unmentionables from clear sight.

He heard the happy cheers and smiles from outside, and painstakingly attempted to pull away, but he couldn't. Rooting through your things, he found them. He found two of them, really. The used underwear you'd likely just taken off, and the fresh pair you were going to change into. Spoiled for choice he sat in a stasis, mentally cursing himself for being so stupidly horny.

It would be wrong to take another pair. And certainly wrong of him to take the clean pair which you'd instantly noticed were missing when you tried to put them on to wear them.

The used pair though. He held them delicately in both hands, the slip of material not as fancy as the ones he'd used before, but somehow more enticing.

Letting his cock rule his thoughts he brought them up to his face and inhaled deeply, and it was like a bomb going off in the back of his head. He had to have them.

Organizing the bathroom into the exact layout as he'd found it, making sure not even a hair was out of place. The panties were safely in his pocket, and he took a minute to get his body physically and mentally under control before exiting the bathroom and rejoining his friends.

The next time he'd taken some, they'd really been handed to him like a gift. One month back at home, and you felt slightly stifled by the overbearing presence of your father. You needed a nice, messy night out, and you sure got it.

The friends you'd reconnected with had taken you out to a slew of clubs, and by the end of the night, you were tripping and stumbling into anything and anyone in your path. It was as if you were magnetically drawn to every object in your way, unfortunately, one just happened to be tall and lean and caught you before you could tumble off again.

"Y/N?" He looked down at you, confused as he took in your intoxicated state.

"Uncle Spencie!" You relaunched yourself into his arms, reminiscent of that day in the bullpen. "Uncle Spencie I can't believe you're here!" You giggled into his neck as you buried yourself there, pressing a kiss to the nape of his neck as you pulled away to grin at him again.

"Y/N, how drunk are you?"

"How you are drunk, huh? Why don't we ever ask that question?" You sent yourself into a fit of giggles as your friends watched the scene play out behind you.

"Girls, this is Doctor Spencer Reid. My daddy is his boss. Isn't he cute?" Your arms still wrapped territorially around Spencer, you introduced your friends who cackled approvingly at your drunk shenanigans.

"Y/N, you need to let me go, the others…"

"Others? Is daddy here? AARON!! AAAAROOOOOO-" He clamped a hand over your mouth and moved you to the side of the road to hail a taxi as fast as possible. Apologizing to your friends, he quickly stuffed you into the cab and gave the driver your address.

"Uncle Spencer, I just wanted to see my daddy and his other friends. Why are you being so mean?" The exaggerated pout on your face had him dragging a hand down over his face as he struggled to pull a seatbelt over you.

"If your dad had seen you wrapped around me like that, he'd have killed one of us."

"Both of us," you nodded and giggled. Your short dress was riding up your thighs, the leather seats of the car feeling unbearably hot and sticky under your skin. You shifted uncomfortably a few times, your underwear eating into your skin in an uncomfortable manner.

"Y/N, what are you doing?" He sternly whispered the words into your ears as he grabbed your wrists. It was too late though, you'd already worked your underwear down your thighs enough that they'd reached your knees and then fallen around your ankles.

"It felt bad, I didn't like it." You leaned your head back and let your legs hang open slightly, just enough that Spencer could see the taxi driver angling for a look.

He snapped a hand between your legs, closing off the view before snatching up the underwear from the floor and pocketing it. You didn't know nor care though, the motion of the car rocking you off into a deep sleep. He'd ended up having to carry you up to your apartment, getting you ready for bed, and leaving just fast enough for Hotch to not catch him hanging over his unconscious daughter.

And he had a third pair of your underwear.

He spent his days wondering just what the fuck was wrong with him, and his nights jerking off to your scent, wondering just how willing he'd be to climb into bed with you and if he'd have the strength to say no.

He was normal enough in your interactions with one another. You'd seen each other at various case celebrations, at parties hosted by the team members, which that summer were high in total. You couldn't resist the temptation to flirt with him, but it was only when the two of you were well out of earshot of anyone who might frown upon it. You didn't think he even noticed that's what you were doing anyway.

Spencer did notice. And he kept noticing and was disgusted by how much he wanted you. You were Hotch’s daughter. He’d seen pictures of you as a child, he’d held you while you cried over your mom and the stress of having to be a responsible adult after everything happened with Foyet, he’d known how much you hated having to grow up quickly when you had Hotch for a dad, and he felt gross that despite all of that he wanted to fuck you so badly that he’d resorted to petty thievery and letting you flirt with him under your father's nose.

It was towards the end of your summer at home when you finally noticed the missing pieces. You'd even almost mentioned it to your dad before thinking it through a bit more. If it wasn't some laundry mix-up, he was going to go full FBI on every man who came close to you, and that was a risk you weren't willing to take.

In the end, you were thankful you said nothing.

The BAU team had been out on a case for ten days, the largest amount of time they'd been away since you'd moved home, and you'd decided to greet them as soon as they returned, congratulate them on a job well done.

You knew they were already heading to their regular bar after they finished their paperwork, but you had some morale to boost in the meantime, so a donut delivery plus enough coffee to stay awake for hours was in order.

They'd practically thrown themselves off the jet and into the box of donuts, each of them thanking you for the happy greeting after what had to have been a hard time away.

"Y/N, you didn't have to do this, but thank you. The team really appreciates it." Your dad had looked at you with a proud look before showing you up to his office, letting you wait on his couch until everyone was finished.

You got bored quickly and asked if you could help with anything, which is how you became your dad's errand-runner. He sent you to the printer to pick up papers, you'd run to get him more coffee from the pot twice and he sent you to ask the others about their progress. Which was totally fine had they not looked like paperwork-writing zombies on the verge of collapse.

"Y/N, head down to Spencer's desk, he should have a file on the geographical profile I need." He hadn't even glanced up to ask you that, but he did shout a thank you out the door, so you suppose he could be forgiven for now.

Bouncing down the stairs you noticed Spencer was deep in the middle of reading some files, doing that speed reading thing you'd heard him talk about but never witnessed.

"Spencer." He didn't look up, too focused on the words in front of him. "Spencer, my dad needs a file."

"Go-bag. Reading, give me a minute." He still hadn't even glanced at you so you pulled yourself around his desk to search for his go-bag yourself. It was on the floor, and you pulled it towards you, settling down on the floor to open it up and look for the files you needed.

You probably should have had more reservations about rooting through Spencer's things because just as you pulled the zip fully open, it seemed like his eyes shot wide and he threw his head in your direction, finally distracted from his work.

"Wait, don't look in-" He whisper-screamed the words at you frantically, but it was too late. The first thing your hand had closed around in the bag was small and delicate and somewhat rumpled, and your hand had a mind of its own pulling it out into your lap so the two of you could see it.

Your panties. One of your missing pairs of panties was in Spencer Reid's go-bag.

Both of you sat there for a few moments, neither of you moving, the eye contact not breaking one second as you both stared at each other in fear and surprise.

He cleared his throat quietly and whispered down at you, "I can explain…" but he didn't get a chance as you swiftly grabbed the file you'd come for - helpfully pulled into plain view by your rustling about - hid your panties back in your own pocket, zipped his bag up and swiftly ran all the way back to your dad's office.

You sat on the couch for the rest of the afternoon, no longer eager to do chores. Spencer had your underwear. He'd stolen it. He'd taken it across the country with him. He'd…You didn't know what he was doing with it, really, but you knew that every image of him with them had the most dirty, exciting, disgusting thoughts running through your head.

You grabbed your things and quickly headed out after that. Penelope caught you by the elevator as you made to leave.

"No, sweetie, where are you going? I thought you were coming to celebrate with us after this, I was so looking forward to having the fun Hotchner around, not the grumpy, serious one."

"I'm just going home to freshen up. I smell like coffee and Quantico, which when you're not nose blind to it isn't the most optimal scent." You promised her you'd see her there, and with a quick glance back at the office, where Spencer was sat tense, looking like he wanted to either run after you or shout something across the room, you left.

By the time you'd arrived home, there were ten missed calls on your cell, and you didn't have to even speculate about who they might be from because there were texts too.

Spencer: I'm sorry, I'm really sorry, call me when you get this.

Spencer: I know it's weird and I'll understand if you hate me, but please talk to me.

Spencer: Please don't tell your dad.

You'd scoffed at that last one as if you'd ever have been that stupid. But you didn't reply or call him, letting him suffer in silence.

This entire time, you'd been operating on the basis that Spencer Reid didn't see you the way you saw him. That he didn't think of you as an adult but as your father's daughter. And now you were confronted with the truth that he was just as fucking lustful and horny as you'd been since you met him at 18? You weren't letting this opportunity pass you by.

Taking the panties out, you stared at them again, trying to figure out just what he'd been doing with them. You recognized them as the pair you'd lost on your night out, bright red and lacy, eye-catching, and definitely yours. He hadn't even tried to lie to you about that, but how willing would you have been to accept the fact that Spencer had stolen someone else's panties? Or been gifted them? Probably not very.

You'd assumed you'd left this pair in the taxi, not entirely sure how you'd ended up in the car in the first place or why you would decide they were uncomfortable right there. Now you had sudden recollections of Spencer also being there, and suddenly your actions made sense.

He'd not only taken your panties, he'd taken your used panties, and it looked as though he'd used them even more. You decided not to think too closely about how he had used them.

But he'd also got you home safe, making sure your things were stored neatly and tucked you into bed nice and tight. And then he'd stolen your panties.

Thinking about it was frustrating but there was nothing else in your mind at that moment. Spencer taking them out secretly to look at. Spencer smelling them. Spencer wrapping them around his big cock and stroking himself to the thought of you.

You wanted to know precisely what he'd done, and you intended to find out.

Penelope called you as soon as they'd left work, and sent you the location, too, and you decided it was time to get ready to mess with Spencer.

The dress you'd worn on the night he'd stolen your panties was freshly laundered. Usually, you wouldn't wear anything so risky in front of your father, but he'd likely only be there for an hour or two before leaving you be. You pulled out a fresh pair of red panties as well, hoping to jog Spencer's memory a little bit to entice him to talk.

With a quick make-up retouch, you climbed into your car, and within twenty minutes you were walking into O'Keefe's.

Miserably, Spencer couldn't come up with an excuse to stay home quick enough and was tumbled into the car by Derek and Penelope. He had a feeling, too, that he wouldn't be able to leave early, either, which was only confirmed when you walked in wearing that dress.

His hopes to sit and nurse his non-alcoholic cocktail peacefully at the edge of the booth are shattered as he watches you saunter over. It clings tight to your skin, twisting around every peak on your body, revealing every part that he'd spent the last few weeks dreaming about.

He was screwed.

"Hi, Dad! Hi everyone!" You smiled innocently enough, but your sickly sweet smile turned on Spencer was an omen, and he suddenly wanted to be down on his knees begging for forgiveness. Or something else.

Instead of sticking by your dad's side, you make your way to Spencer and force him to shuffle further into the booth so you can sit next to him. It's cramped and you're on the edge still, so you let your hand rest on his thigh for a beat too long as you join the conversation.

"What did I miss?"

"Just talking about the craziest things that have happened to us on cases."

"Reid was propositioned by a prostitute once," Derek chuckled.

"Please, Reid has been propositioned by multiple prostitutes, multiple times." Penelope and Derek continued to joke and giggle about the younger man's apparent cluelessness to flirting.

"I guess they just assumed you were a pervert, Spence. I wonder why they'd think that?" His eyes shot wide as you snuck your hand into his pocket under the table, watching to see if anyone else had noticed the bold actions.

But you looked away from him quickly and didn't let your hand spend too long there, sliding it out slowly, feeling up his leg as you went. He took another sip of his drink before shifting uncomfortably in his seat. His cock had been rudely awoken, and he didn't want it to stay awake, so he attempted to let it fall into a less obvious position.

But as he shifted he felt something else in his pants, and curiously he put his own hand into his pocket. You'd returned your stolen underwear to the thief.

He took in a shaky breath and held them inside his pants while he willed himself to calm down. Partly because you were in public and partly because your dad was present. He almost had himself under control when you decided it was time for your next move.

"I need to go get a drink, I'll be back soon." You stood and pushed away from the table, bouncing away swiftly. He watched you go from the corner of his eye and then had to do a double take as you pushed yourself up against the bar ordering your drink.

You stuck your ass out, not enough to make it look intentional to anybody but him, but just enough so he could see the red underwear you had on underneath your dress.

He downed his drink and made his excuses before making his way right to the bar where you stood.

"What are you doing?" He demanded, so close behind you that you felt his breath in you before you heard his voice.

"Buying a drink, what does it look like I'm doing?" You scooted your ass back until it was pressed up against his crotch and he groaned, hard and loud in your ear.

"Y/N, you can't do that, your dad is right fucking there."

"I sure hope my dad isn't fucking over there, that'd really be a sight I didn't want to see." He shut his eyes for a second, taking a deep breath before he put his hands on you. Grabbing your hips, he walked you closer to the bar so that your ass was no longer on display, nor touching him in any way, then he moved to your side and left only one hand firmly touching your back so you knew not to immediately try something else again.

"This is your last warning. Now, you're going to order that drink and then you're going to walk back to that table like a good fucking girl, or so help me god, I will show your dad just how much of a slut you're being." His voice was a dark growl and you felt your panties growing more wet with each syllable, nodding instantly as the bartender came over.

For a minute, he'd genuinely thought that had worked. You'd ordered your drink without another word and then turned back to the table and walked nicely, having pulled your skirt back down a little bit. He'd thought he'd won until the second he'd sat down when Aaron Hotchner had grabbed his coat and stood up.

"Spencer, you're not drinking? Can you drive Y/N home tonight? I’m leaving now, and I’m sure she doesn’t want to leave so early.” You watched as his jaw twitched, taking only a second to compose himself before he agreed.

“Great, have a fun night sweetheart,” he said, kissing your head, before turning out and leaving with Rossi.

“Now, Spencer, what was that you were saying about good behavior at the bar? It was really so very interesting to me and I’d love to hear more.”

You spent the next half hour draining your drink and his self-control, stroking a hand down his chest as the others comfortably ignored your purring at him. He answered all your questions coldly, but every time your hand trailed a little bit too low he stopped it with a heavy hand and a warning look, letting you know that you were still getting to him.

Once you’d finished the first drink, you got up and moved to the bar once again, making sure that his eyes were on you completely as you swayed your hips on the way over. You pulled exactly the same move as you had earlier and made sure he knew you were going to be hard to handle the entire night.

When you returned, he was the only one left at the table, the others having scattered to the dance floor, the bathroom, and the bar. Taking the chance you climb directly into his lap.

“What’s wrong, Spence, you’re looking so lonely over here?” You rest your hands on his shoulders and let your ass fall to his lap, grinding down gently to feel him underneath you.

“How could I be lonely when you’re out here throwing yourself at me like a cheap whore?”

“Oh, we’ve already established how much cheap whores love you today, Spencer. Why would you be so surprised that I’m having the same reaction?”

The others slowly started returning so you pushed away from him for a second, straightening your clothes before they noticed anything amiss.

“Y/N, I need some youthful arm candy, come to the dancefloor with us!” Penelope pulled you from your seat and you laughed as you followed her, sending a wink back over your shoulder to Spencer.

He sat grinding his teeth as you continue your games on the dancefloor, swaying your hips suggestively, not sparing him a single glance as you practically exposed yourself on a dancefloor. He decided he’d let you have your fun and then march you out quickly. He moved his timeline up exponentially the minute he saw a man saunter up behind you, whispering in your ear before walking you over to the bar.

Downing his drink, he made his way to your side, pulling you away from the man quickly.

“We’re leaving now.” He said, leaning down to your ear as he grabbed your coat and pulled it around you.

“Man, what do you think you’re doing?” The man who had pulled you away was visually drunk, looking rough and dangerous as he leered down at you.

“She’s not interested and she’s too young for you anyway.” He said, very close to flashing his badge to get him to back off.

“What, you her dad or something?” He scoffed, but you turned on him with a wide smile as you leaned your head back against Spencer’s chest.

“He’s my daddy, actually.” With a wink, you left the bar, letting Spencer chase after you as you walked directly over to your car. Throwing him the keys, you jumped into the passenger seat.

“I’m taking you home now, you’re being reckless, you’ve had too much to drink.”

“Reckless how? It’s not like I’m the one who has been stealing my boss' daughter's panties for the last month.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You jacked off into my panties and now you’re pissed I caught you…wow.”

“Can you just shut up? I’m sure your dad wouldn’t like me to tell him how you put them back in my pocket tonight, right?”

“Was that a threat, Spencer?”

“If I was going to threaten you, Y/N, you’d know.”

“You’ve changed, you know. Since I was a teenager. You’re different now.”

“No, I’m not. I’m very much the same.”

“You’re hotter now. I don’t know how that is possible because fuck did I want you back then, but now…” You let your eyes trail down his face as he continues to drive, jaw tense. His side profile had always been pretty, but with the bags under his eyes now more pronounced, you thought about what it’d be like to trail your mouth down his neck, what you would give to sit prettily on those lips of his.

Your tongue darts out to wet your own lips, as the fantasies grow to fill the car. Suddenly it’s his hands between your legs, making you moan like the whore he’d accused you of being earlier, it’s his tongue down your throat as he fucks his fingers into you, completely ruining you.

When you pull over, you’re certain that he’d heard your thoughts, because you didn’t recognize where you were at all.

“Spencer, this isn’t my dad’s house.”

“No, it’s mine. Get out of the car.” Suddenly obedient, you do exactly as he tells you, jumping out of the car as swiftly as you can and letting him march you up the stairs, right through his door and all the way to his bedroom. He pushes you forward gently but with a firm enough hand that you know he wants you on the bed. He doesn’t touch you any further as you prop yourself up on your elbows, but moves to another part of the room, grabbing something from a drawer before throwing it at you. Throwing them at you, you supposed, because when you looked down, you found your other pairs of missing underwear on your lap.

“I’m sorry for being so fucking dirty and disgusting, but you need to stop saying those things to me before I do something we both regret.”

You don’t reply, sitting and breathing heavily for a second before pushing your body further up the bed and reaching down. His eyes drink you in as he watches you hook two fingers underneath the underwear you’re wearing and drag them down your legs, not caring that he can see everything. You let go of them as soon as they’re hanging off your leg, holding them out to him.

“Peace offering?”

He’s on you in an instant, crawling on top of you so he can shut you up with his mouth, his hands, his whole being. You welcome him greedily, letting him take control as he pins your hips down underneath his.

“Little slut, you want me to fuck you so bad?” He says, a hand at your chest, pinching your nipple hard through your dress as you moan and writh underneath him. “Throwing yourself at your father’s friend like this, huh? Must be a little whore.”

He doesn’t let you respond, shoving two fingers into your mouth as you obediently wrap your lips around them and start sucking. Pushing your dress up, he groans at how wet you already are for him, swiping a finger over your clit carefully as you moan around his fingers, the vibrations shooting straight to his cock.

Lifting his hips, he unzips his pants in a second, not stopping to contemplate the consequences of his actions. His cock is pressed against you, gripped in his hand, but it’s hot and it’s heavy and fuck do you need it inside of you. He teases you with it as you whine around his fingers, trying to top from the bottom and grinding your hips up into him. He removes his fingers from your mouth reluctantly so he can hold your hips down.

“Spencer, don’t fucking tease me. Please just fuck me now.”

“Are all of you Hotchner’s this fucking bossy?” You roll your eyes, ignoring his question as you move to grab ahold of his cock, lining it up with your cunt and pushing it in slowly. A hand over yours stops you before it can get any deeper.

“Wait, I haven’t put a condom on yet.”

“Then you better make sure you pull out before I have to tell my dad exactly who it is that made him a grandaddy.” His hips snap up into yours then and with a few shallow pumps he’s fully sheathed inside of you as you scream at the feeling. You’d spent years thinking about this moment, but you’d never imagined he’d fill you so perfectly, stretching you out in all the best places.

His fingers return to your clit, working you up into a frenzy as you arch up into him, wrapping your legs around him to allow him better access. He growls into your ear with each thrust, before grabbing fistfuls of your ass and dragging you to the edge of the bed.

He pulls out quickly, repositioning you and holding your legs open wide as he stands between your legs, lining his cock up and pushing into you once again, immediately regaining his pace. He lifts one knee onto the bed, again pushing your legs down into the bed and opening you up further to him. The new angle hits deeper inside of you than you were sure anyone had ever been, momentarily leaving you breathless and soundless, listening only to the noises coming from your cunt.

Wet slaps of skin against skin, the arousal trickling down your leg to stain his sheets.

You regain your breath just as he knocks it out of you again, pushing you over the edge as you cum, hard, on his cock. Your head goes dizzy as you struggle to come down from the bliss he’d pulled you up into, legs twitching as he continues pounding into him.

You’re vaguely aware of some loud moans and screams, and it takes you an entire minute to realize the sinful noises are coming straight from your mouth.

“Fuck, Spencer, so fucking good for me, you made me feel so good, thank you.” His hips stutter inside you then, and you feel a heat flood you.

“Shit,” he pulls out quickly and sprays the rest of his load over your pretty black dress, falling down on top of you and reclaiming your lips passionately. You stay locked together in that embrace for god knows how long, rolling around back and forth in his bed until he finally detaches himself, pulling your clothes off and throwing a large old t-shirt over your head before grabbing you like an oversized stuffed toy and leading you into the depths of oblivion.

When you wake up in the morning, the pounding in your head is exaggerated considering you hadn’t really drank that much the night before. It takes you a shocking amount of time to realize that the pounding wasn’t in your head though, but instead a loud banging against Spencer’s door, ordering him to open up

You’re so comfortable though, you try to ignore it. Until your father’s voice is pouring through the paper-thin walls.

“Spencer, open the door, right now, or I’m kicking it down. You have five seconds.” The Spencer in question shoots out of bed immediately from beside you, scrambling to pull on pants and make his hair look like you hadn’t been tangled in it all night before running to the door.

You similarly panic around the room for a second, searching for a hiding place and grabbing your phone before settling on the absolutely genius position of under the bed.

You hear the confrontation like it’s happening right over you.

“Aaron, I really think you’re going to regret this.” David Rossi’s voice is calm, trying to talk some sense into your father, but he isn’t having any of it.

“Where is she? I told you to drop her off at home when she was finished drinking, but she wasn’t there when I woke up.”

“I can explain…” Spencer trailed off, and you cursed the man for being such a bad liar. That line hadn’t worked on you, either, so you doubted it’d work on your dad. Opening your phone, you check the time. 11:47. You quietly cursed yourself as you opened the multiple messages from your father.

You decide to help Spencer out by replying to one of them now.

“Hey, Dad. I ran into an old friend last night, and Spencer made sure we both got back to her’s safely. I’m still at her apartment, but I guess I forgot to text last night because I was so tired, sorry for worrying you!”

You heard his phone ping with the message, heard the tense silence as he read the message slowly, and heard the incredibly loud ping of your own phone, screaming from inside Spencer’s room as he replied.

Unfortunately, your dad hears it, too.

Pushing past Spencer, who in his defense is doing a great job of taking a stand by slowing down your father momentarily, Aaron Hotchner bursts into the room just as you poke your head up from the side of the bed.

“Morning, Daddy.” You try, hoping to sweet talk your way out of this whole situation.

“Living room, now.” He says, hesitating for only a moment. “You’re dressed, right?” You almost laugh at his pathetic tone before considering the situation, just nodding and walking out behind him as you try to make Spencer’s shirt cover more of your body than it originally did.

There’s a gleam in Rossi’s eye as you walk past him, head hung in embarrassment. You sit guiltily on the couch, and Spencer finds his way next to you, and you suddenly feel like two children about to get the scolding of a lifetime.

“What were you thinking?” He demands, and you grow suddenly angry at the indignant tone of his voice.

“Dad, I am 23 years old, I do not need a lecture for spending the night out.”

“I wasn’t talking to you, sit down. Spencer? Anything to say.” You slump back into your seat and wait for the answer just the same as your dad is, but it doesn’t come.

Instead, you feel a blanket being thrown over your legs, and it isn’t until then that you notice how cold you’ve been. He takes the time to wrap the material around your body, making sure you’re comfortable before he even thinks about looking up at your dad.

“Hotch, what is it that you want to know?” He levels his stare with your father, and it seems to dampen his anger a little bit. They’re having a silent war right now, in some kind of expressive language that you’ve never been able to decode, and somehow, it seems that Spencer is winning.

“Did you use protection?” Your sharp intake of breath is about all the answers your father needs, and you realize how majorly you’d fucked up by letting the conversation get this far.

“Dad!” you shout indignantly. “That is frankly none of your business.” He doesn’t look at you though, not even sparing you a glance as his eyes stay focused on Spencer, trying to figure out something you’re not even sure of yourself.

“For god’s sake, Dad, I’ve been in love with him for five years.” All the eyes in the room snap to you then, and if you hadn’t been feeling shy before, you certainly were now.

“Y/N, you’re barely an adult.”

“I’m sorry that’s entirely rich coming from the guy who had a child straight out of high school. I’m an adult, which is why I’m allowed to make my own mistakes and decisions, and I’d really prefer your support instead of your judgment.” Your father tries to speak again, to protest some part of what you just said, but unlistening, you groan in frustration and just climb directly into Spencer’s lap.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Spencer panics below you for a second, before resting comfortably on your legs, far enough down that he is spared your father’s dirty looks.

“Aaron, I think you’d better hear the girl out. She reminds me a lot of someone I know, so hard-headed these youths of today are.” You are intensely thankful for Rossi’s presence then and you send a thankful smile his way, just as your dad grumbles.

“Uncle David is right, you should listen to Uncle David.”

“Until a few days ago, you were calling Spencer “Uncle Spencer” so I’d be quiet if I were you, Y/N.”

“Heard.” He pauses for a second to think, the years finally etching into his skin as he breathes out a sigh of relief. You suddenly feel bad for not being home when he woke up, and you can only imagine how it must’ve felt to not know where you were, or if you were safe after everything that he’d already been through.

“I’m not against this, I suppose. But I swear to god if you ever go missing on me again, I will have an entire agency out for you.”

“You know where I’ll be, Dad.” He nods then turns to Spencer.

“You’re going to take her to a pharmacy in the next three hours to get emergency contraception, and then the both of you are going to come - fully clothed - to my house. It’s been a while since we had a family dinner.” You smile brightly up at him, and within another minute, it is just you and Spencer in the apartment alone.

You looked back up at him shyly and tried to awkwardly climb out of his lap, but he pulled you right back into him.

“For the record, I think I’ve only been in love with you for 37 days. Is that okay with you?” All of the confidence drains from your body as you struggle to find the words.

“In my defense, it’s not that I didn’t love you back then, it’s just that you were so young, I think I never considered it. And when I realized that you had those feelings, I felt so guilty about it, I never stopped to let myself think about what else I was feeling. And then you were gone and I didn’t have to think about it again, and then you came back, and I’ve been doing a lot more thinking now, and I think that-”

“I think that you should shut up and kiss me, Spencer Reid.” You said.

“Heard.” You giggled as he pressed his lips up into your own, pulling you further down into him as he held you tight. You didn’t come up for air for a long while, drinking as much of him in as you could as he gave you his heart.

“You know what this means?” You said, finally pulling away with a gasp.

“What?”

“You don’t have to steal my panties anymore. I can just give them to you now.” He lit up red underneath you and groaned as you laughed at his pained expression.

“As long as you never mention that to your father, I think we’ll escape this job and lives intact.” He said, a faraway look telling you he was likely running probability on those ideas right at that second.

“Just remember, my dad has two weapons and the ability to move you halfway across the country should he choose to.” You pressed your forehead against his, chuckling once again at his pained expression. “But also remember, that I’d happily follow you anywhere, Reid.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Hotchner. Oh, no, that was weird. We’re going to have to get you a new name sooner rather than later.” You gasped as he lifted you in his arms, standing and carrying you back to the bedroom.

“Spencer! What are you doing?”

“We need to go brainstorm some new names, too weird to call you Hotchner. And I do all of my best thinking in bed.”

“Really? I do mine in the shower,” you teased, holding tight to his shoulders as he continued forward.

“We can definitely try that next.” He said, carrying you through the door, and closing it shut behind him, hoarding your attentions for the rest of the morning.

[gremlingottoosilly]

König with a kidnapped reader who’s into dark romance that for some reason isn’t reciprocating his affections? He’s seen your search history, the books you read, and the social media posts about ‘how you want a man like that’ and when he basically gives it to you, you’re not acting like how he expected you to react? He’d thought you be a lot more willing and not to freak out like a normal person would, but it’s like what they like in fiction ≠ real life.

He doesn't understand. He studied the books you were reading -- all of those weird young adult slop, everything about an innocent woman in hands of a dangerous criminal, mod boss or a serial killer who is also a CEO in his free time. Studied the things you liked - dark romance, red roses, kidnapping you to give you the best night of your life and then lock you up in his basement until you're in love with him. Could even wear a different mask - maybe something tight, showing a bit more face. Maybe putting a collar on you - your social media likes suggest that you enjoy this kind of thing. Oh, but real life is so much different from the stuff you used to like in your books and internet fiction. The actual kidnappings are scary, horrible, a fate you wouldn't wish to anyone - but you're stuck here now, with a guy who believes you need him. That you wanted this, that you needed this. The guys acts like you asked for this. pulls up your tumblr posts and nudges your face into the screen, making you read it out loud and, well, shit. You truly did wanted this, in your head. Not in real life though. Konig is still trying to put on an act. Quoting your favorite romance literature, repeating the same actions as the main love interests. Hoping that you will break down eventually, finally understanding your undying love for him - but you keep crying and begging to be let go every time he fucks you. Even when he shoves alcohol down your throat, making you more susceptible to his desires, you will only stop struggling as much, finally allowing him to touch you if only for a little bit. He will drop the act - not the kidnapping, of course he wouldn't let you go, but he will try his best to make your life just a bit easier. Allows you to roam around the house, brings you more gifts. It buys you the books you like so much, although now you finally understand why the stubborn main characters didn't want to fall for their obsessed romance.

[charlotteking23]

The Lion's Lamb - Chapter 6 - MV1/33

Max Verstappen x reader

The Lion's Lamb Series: Aesthetics, Ch.1, Ch.2, Ch.3, Ch.4, Ch.5, Ch.7, Ch.8

The couple had finally arrived at the location Max had planned for their date.

They had pulled up at the marina, surrounded by multiple huge yachts that you could only dream about ever owning.

A drown slowly took over your face as the man in front of her opened the door that led down to the boats.

"Where are we going?" You voiced your thoughts.

The blue eyed man just smirked at you but didn't answer as he continued to pull you down the dock until they finally stopped in front of one.

Max had helped the young woman onto the boat before walking over to a man standing by the boats main entrance.

The unknown man was attractive. That's obvious. He had to be around your age or Max's, brown hair and green eyes.

The two shared some words before the unknown man smirked at Max before handing home something.

"Have a lovely evening," the man smiled at the pair before getting off the boat and making his way towards the dock exit.

"That was my friend Charles," max said with a slight sigh as you looked on in confusion on what just happened, " he's letting us borrow his boat for the night."

Charles Leclerc, the formula one driver for Ferrari, had been more than happy to let his friend borrow his boat. Specifically after finding out it was for a date.

The Montesquieu had known the Dutch driver since they were children, and like many close to him, had noticed a change in his friends behavior recently.

He knew, like Daniel, that someone, a woman, had cause this. His suspicions were confirmed when he had asked the Ferrari driver to use his boat and Charles wouldn't let him until Max told his what exactly for.

The world champion was reluctant to mention his little lamb, but the Montesquieu wouldn't hand over his keys until the Redbull driver finally caved.

The small mention of his date to Charles was all it took and he immediately regretted saying anything after seeing the stupid grin on his friend's face.

He had wanted to keep you a secret. To keep you to himself for just a little bit longer.

Now two people know about you and now, one of them knows what you look like.

The couple had walked out onto the front deck, where the Dutchman had arranged a single table for the two.

The table was draped with a white cloth, simply decorated with a small bouquet of red roses. The candle was surrounded by candles, and fairy lights softly illuminated the boat deck, creating a romantic aura.

"You did this?" you asked, wide eyed and mouth open.

No one has ever gone to this length for you. Usually, the men you saw back at home would take you on a cheap date in hopes it was enough to get into your pants.

Max wasn't that type of man. While they had only known each other for a short period of time, you knew in your heart that he was one of the good ones.

"I did have some help," made said shyly, never having done anything like this for someone before.

For most of his adult life, woman had just thrown themselves at him, wanting the fame and fortune that came along with being attached to his name.

He had also never truly been interested in anyone before. Besides the occasional one night stands, no one had ever been able to divert his attention from racing. Until now.

The couple had taken their seats at the table, your smile never once leaving your face. Just by looking at how happy the simplest thing, like a romantic dinner, made you, caused the Dutchman to feel a mix of happiness and sadness.

In that moment he realized that no one had treated the beautiful girl in front of him the way you truly deserved to be treated.

"No one's ever done anything like this for me before," you shyly looked at the handsome blue eyes man.

"You should always be treated this way," max leaned slightly across the table between them, caressing your cheek softly.

Looking down, trying to hide the blush that had erupted across your face.

"how was your work trip?" you quickly changed the topic.

Max leaned back in his chair, happy with the yours resorting towards him

"It was almost perfect," he said.

"Almost?"

"I was missing something?"

"What?"

"You."

You giggled at his words, thinking it was just a line he says to all the girls. Little did you know, he had never said those words before, let alone truly meant them.

"Where were you this time?" You again changed the subject.

"Saudi Arabia," he states before leaning onto the table, speaking quickly before you have time to divert the conversation again, "why do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Brush off the compliments I give you."

"Because," you paused, scrambling to find the words, "why focus on words that are only words. Usually there is no meaning behind them, they're just words."

Max quickly gets up and walks around to your side of the table, kneeling down in front of you, gently taking your face in his hand.

"Every word I say is nothing less than the truth. You may not know me well, but if there's one thing I'm not, it's a liar.

I want it to be clear that every word I say is full of meaning," his deep state into, what felt like her soul, told you everything you needed to know.

The intense and truthful look in his eyes had your mouth open and eyes starting to water.

You never had anyone look at you the way he was looking at you now. Pure admiration, affection, and dare you say it, love.

You didn't have any words to say. You had been left completely speechless and in a split decision, You leaned forward and kissed him.

Max was taken off guard, not truly expecting the beautiful girl to make the first move.

He quickly recovered, responding to the kiss, pulling you closer to his body. You brought your hand up to his shirt, bringing him as close as possible, deepening the kiss.

The American girl had always dreamt about having your own movie scene kiss. The type of kiss you read about in books that caused butterflies to ignite in your stomach. But this was reality.

Fireworks

That's what you felt. Your entire body erupted in tiny fireworks like tingle. You couldn't help but think that in that moment, reality was so much better than any book or movie.

Max wanted to hold you in his arms forever and to never let go. He felt, in that moment, if he lost everything, he wouldn't care.

His fame, the money, his seat, he could lose it all and still be a winner if he could only have you in his arms for the rest of his life.

If he died right then, he'd die a happy man.

The two broke away, but kept their foreheads together as they continued to catch their breath.

They stayed in this position for a while, just enjoying being in each other presence before Max finally interrupted.

With a quick kiss to your forehead he pulled away saying, "let's eat."

Dinner wasn't awkward after the kiss, if anything, they felt closer than ever before. The entire night they because more touchy with each other.

They were expressing their emotions and feelings openly, something the driver had never done before. With you, it felt natural, that he could finally be himself without judgement.

Max had dropped the girl off back at home, but not before giving you a loving and long goodnight with a promise to talk to you tomorrow.

The Dutchman couldn't keep the smile off his face, replaying the kiss over and over in his head.

As he opened his apartment door, he was instantly ready to go to bed so he could see you, once more the next day.

"Well, look who's finally home," Max sighed, resting his head against the now closed front door at the sound of the familiar voice in his home, "where have you been? It's way past your bed time!"

The Dutchman turned around to see, not only Daniel Ricciardo with a devious grin on his face, but also Charles Leclerc and Lando Norris sitting in his apartment.

"I knew I shouldn't have given you a key," Max muttered to himself about the Aussie, "why are you guys here?"

"Imagine my surprise when little Charles," said man shot the Aussie a glare at exposing him, "called to tell me that you, young Maxine, asked to use his yacht for a date. Why didn't you tell me about it?"

Sighing, Max took a seat on one of his living room chairs, "because you would behave exactly like this."

"I'm more hurt that you didn't tell me."

"Luckily you had Charles who can't keep his mouth shut to tell you," the Ferrari driver help up his hands in defense at the Dutchman's glare.

"It's not my fault you're so secretive about this girl," Charles says, "the secrecy about this mystery girl makes us all curious."

"And you?" Max says, looking at the youngest driver in the room, "What's your excuse?"

"I'm just nosey," Lando states with a huge grin while shrugging.

Max's frustration with his friends was interrupted by a text from you in question at the moment.

You: Did you make it home safe?

Max: yes

You: Are you okay? You're being a bit short with me.

Max: I'm currently being interrogated by my friends about you.

You: I didn't realize you kept me a secret.

Max: I wanted to keep you to myself as long as possible little lamb.

He couldn't help but smirk at the 3 dots appearing they quickly disappearing on the screen.

"That!" Daniel yelled, catching the blondes attention again, "that right there is the reason why I want to meet this girl! In the short time you've known her, she's made you smile more than I've ever seen in the years I was your teammate."

"Why are you hiding her?" Charles eyebrows furrowed at his own question, "she's absolutely stunning, so you can't be ashamed of her. She always seems to be a sweet, intelligent girl."

"She doesn't know who I am," Max mumbles out.

"How?" Lando asked with wide eyes.

"She just doesn't. She's from the U.S. and you know how F1 handy really reached them well," everyone nodded in slight understanding.

"But why hide her? Why not tell her?" Charles asks.

"Because I've gotten so much shit these past few months after winning the World Championship. People have dictated shit about me without actually knowing me. I want her to get to know me as Max, not Max Verstappen, the newest f1 World Champion."

It was quiet for a second, all the drivers understand how he felt. The silence didn't last too long because the McLaren driver couldn't stand the awkward silence or the seriousness of the conversation.

"So what does she think you do for work?" Lando asked

Max chucked before saying, "she thinks I work for a car company which makes me travel to get investors."

"Shit, you didn't necessarily lie mate," Daniel said, "my issue here now is that you said I'd be the first one to meet her and the fucker Charles met her before me! This is so unfair!"

Taglist: @shelbyteller, @smithieandy, @fangirlforever2000, @herexpertcollector, @vip-access, @genevieve-blr

[platinumshawnn]

Bound by Blood and Fire — Benjicot Blackwood x Tully!oc (pt ii)

A/N: hi! I really dragged my heels on writing this next part because I love to procrastinate. I actually cut a scene from this because it was already running pretty long. Also a *brief* little masturbation scene randomly weaseled its way in there, lol sorry. Content warning??? I did my best to proofread but I probably missed stuff, also please know that I’m aware Oscar is a brunette in the show, he’s a redhead in the books ✨

Synopsis: Elmo and Oscar Tully arrive at House Blackwood to be debriefed on the finalized terms of Serra’s and Benjicot’s betrothal. Tensions among the houses rise as Serra receives support from her father and yields to giving Benjicot a chance. As their engagement is announced to the other houses, news of murders in King’s Landing highlights the broader conflict looming over them.

General content warnings: MDNI — 18+, adult language, mentions of blood, violence, and war; era related sexism and gender based harassment/discrimination, sexual content, mild depictions of family based violence, implied suicide ideation.

Word count: 8.8k

BBF Masterlist

backward

Serra Tully could only describe Benjicot Blackwood as repulsive if she had to use one word — the kind that made her nauseous, gray in the face sick at the very idea of him.

"To my dear Lady Serra, who I am told, has a tongue as sharp as her needlework. Pray, let's hope she proves as skilled with her wifely duties as she is with her embroidery."

His voice, paired with that stupid smile haunted her as she lay down in bed that night, struggling to find sleep with her eyes stuck to the ceiling. Paired with brother’s laughter, the comment was more horrifying as her face burned with embarrassment — if it were possible, she would have left right then and there; packed her belongings back up, and returned to Riverrun. But she knew that upon arrival, her father would have been furious and only dragged her back. 

“Have you no honor?” Her father would sigh, frustrated and red in the face. 

Even with all the pleading and reasoning, this was not something she could talk her father out of -- this wasn’t some feast, some meeting of the Lords. This was a marriage pact that he and Kermit had meticulously planned out and negotiated, and there was no amount of foot-stomping or yelling she could do to undo that. At some point during her sleepless night, haunted by the smug grin of Benjicot, did she consider the idea of running away and living in the trees -- but she had no survival skills for the wild and knew she wouldn’t last a week out there. She had considered fleeing to the North, but from the stories she had heard of its cold, harsh winters, she knew she wouldn’t thrive there. And King’s Landing had become no man’s land and she didn’t want to be stuck there during these times. It would only be a matter of days before her father and brothers somehow heard of her presence there, either way and would have her dragged right back. 

The only comforting thought would be the arrival of her family, despite her anger towards her oldest brother and father, she felt it would be of comfort to at least have a face around that she recognized. And Oscar -- her dear, little brother Oscar would at least be neutral and she could convince herself someone was at least on her side. 

She had only been lucky to catch brief bouts of sleep, lasting no more than a half hour each time before she was startled awake by a shout from the distance; once again, awake and staring at the ceiling, before she was roused by a young girl who looked about her age as the sun rose. Its light streamed in through the windows, bringing with it warmth, a nice break in the dreary weather that had been terrorizing the Riverlands for weeks. 

She had dressed with assistance from the same girl whose name she had learned was Grace, her gaze out on the fields and limbs heavy with exhaustion, needing several reminders to lift her arms or to move throughout the process. As she had finished dressing, she was summoned for breakfast, nodding feebly and barely audible as she thanked Grace, before the young blonde girl had nodded and withdrew from her room. She wasn’t even hungry, but she went regardless. 

Still, even at breakfast, as she poked at the eggs on her plate that had been paired with fish, did she imagine what would happen if she were to flee. Would anyone notice? If so, how long of a heads-start would she get before they came searching for her? Would they even search for her? Or would they just accept things as they were and betroth one of her younger cousins to Benjicot in her place? She wondered who it would be if they did, maybe Rose? Elisa? Elisa, even at the tender age of ten-and-four was already beautiful, with her long blonde her and light eyes, an exuberant young woman…

“My lady?” 

Her head snapped up to where another young guard stood opposite of her at the other end of the table, staring at her. Her gaze instinctively scanned down the length of him, a habit to observe that she had — young and handsome in the face, Serra wondered if it was just custom at Raventree that the staff and its people were all striking and easy on the eyes. He stood silent, waiting before he spoke again upon a receiving a simple hum and raise of her brows in acknowledgment, “Your father and brother have arrived. They are in the yard if you would like me to take you to them.” He said, voice deep and smooth as velvet. 

Her gaze dropped to her plate, her stomach churning in rejection at the thought of eating anything more than the three bites she had managed to take. She nodded, standing from her seat with a loud drag of the heavy chair, removing the napkin she had placed in her lap and dropping it over the plate. Folding her hands at her abdomen, she walked around the chair and table to approach the young guard who watched her movements, “Yes, please.” She softly said. 

He turned with a curt nod in her direction, only a few paces ahead as he led her through the doors and into the halls, the walls of the keep otherwise silent aside from their footsteps as they walked out the front doors. He led her down the steps, heading towards the gardens onto a path where they turned right onto, before soon met by the familiar sight of the back of her younger brother’s head; his red hair shone in the sun, dressed in his finer clothes with his back to her as he spoke to another guard, gesturing to the pastures that stretched out for miles. With a nod to the guard who stopped abruptly, she offered a hushed ‘thank you’ before hurrying past him. 

“Oscar!” She called, his head whirling towards her voice. 

A smile lit up his face at the sight of her, apologizing to his companion. He hurried towards her, a brisk walk as he reached out to meet her hands that stretched out towards him, relief washing over her as she tore her hands from his and hugged him.

“Sister?” He laughed, obviously confused by the sudden gesture. 

Though Oscar did not push her away or even cringe away from the gesture, instead awkwardly embracing her with a pat on her shoulder, she sensed his confusion. She pulled away, met by his curious gaze, sighing, “It is good to see you again.” She said, taking one of his hands in hers, “It is good to have a face I recognize here.” She admitted. 

Oscar let out a breath, chuckling and squeezing her hand, “It is good to see you too.” 

“Come, walk with me.” She said, dragging him around as she walked past him and grabbing his elbow with her right hand, “Tell of your journey. How are things back home?” She asked, excitedly as bright eyes stared at her brother, giddy. Oscar laughed once more and allowed her to lead, walking alongside her as they followed the path away from the house. 

“It has only been two days.” He said, teasing her. 

“It feels as though it has been weeks.” She said, waving him off with her free hand. 

His nose scrunched with a smile, rolling his eyes at her theatrics. They walked, her gaze on his face, more than happy to hear of anything but her engagement for the first time in days. He caught her up on the events that had transpired in her short time away, everything down to an alleged spotting of Brackens at the borders between lands; hiding in bushes, but that their cousin and his friends had seen them. A fleet of Blackwood men had pushed them back and issued a warning, according to her brother. She hummed, nodding along and smiling brightly as they walked, content to get out of the cursed walls of Raventree; it almost felt as though nothing had changed and the whole betrothal was nothing but a nightmare. She could have even convinced herself this whole trip was nothing more than just a friendly drop-in. 

“What of Grandsire?” She blurted out, interrupting him while her hand clutched Oscar’s forearm as they walked, his head turning towards the entrance of the estate, scanning as though he was worried someone would overhear as he cautiously eyed the guards that seemed to stand at every corner. His shoulders lifted subtly in a shrug, gaze not quite yet returning to her as she looked straight ahead and followed his pace as they walked. 

“He is not well, as you know.” He reminded her, though it was not new news to her, the man had been on his deathbed for what felt like years, “But…” 

“But?” 

Oscar shrugged again, his head turning finally to look straight ahead as well, scanning along the path that was surrounded by lush greenery — Raventree’s yards much better maintained than theirs back home.

“I heard him and Father and Kermit speaking a few nights before your departure, from the hallway…” Oscar began to explain, her head turning to look at him, his eyes casting a side glance at his sister, “He wishes to support Aegon’s claim to the throne. However,  you know our father’s stance. And Kermit’s.” Oscar said, his words slow and hushed to a volume only they could hear, his head turning fully to look at her.  

If times were different, this kind of betrayal could have had more serious implications — the very act of overthrowing their grandfather, the Paramount Lord of Riverrun, undermining his authority, his very word. If times were different, he might have even pushed for punishment by death if it was in his authority, being that he had been such a hot-tempered man as long as she could remember — he’d maybe seek out another heir, not that he was short of any. But instead, he was just a mere man now, sickly and on his deathbed, aged and too frail to even raise a hand. Serra nodded, silently. 

Serra preferred Oscar’s presence more than Kermit’s. He understood the value of comfortable silences, not filling them out of obligation with empty comments. When he did speak, it was of intelligence, conversations that had sincere depth to them, knowledge and wisdom that flowed so effortlessly. There was no awkwardness, no prying to get an answer. He understood that sometimes she just preferred not to speak. She felt that any tension that clung to her shoulders melted away and she could breathe in his presence and that she could speak freely. 

“Brother tells me you are not happy about your betrothal.” Oscar stated, his eyes ahead as they walked among the gardens, her own drawn to the bushes of flowers just beginning to bloom, silently sighing at the subject, “Your groom, I suppose.” He added, though there was a lilt to his voice that hinted at his own amusement. 

“I take it you knew of their plans.” She pointedly accused, turning to look up at him on her right. 

She could see the corner of his mouth turned up in a half-smile, his shoulders shaking with a laugh, “And you did not think to warn me?” 

“I did not think you would mind…I believe Kermit himself suggested the uncle of Lord of Frey -- Aldean, I believe his name was. A widower, fifty-and-two years of age.” He explained, still teasing his older sister, who did not share his humor over the matter as she abruptly stopped, pulling her arm away. He turned to look at her, met with a frown, “Oh, come on, sister. I only jest.” Oscar said, reaching for her to encourage their walk to resume, however, he sensed her seriousness over the matter and realized there would be no continuing their walk anytime soon. Not until she’d gotten this out of her system.

���I do not find that very funny, Oscar.” She stated. 

“My apologies, sister. I didn't mean to upset you.” He sighed, turning to face her. “But I truly did not think it would be much of an issue.” 

She let out a curt laugh, her expression one of bemusement, “That I would be sold off to the highest bidder, as nothing but a broodmare? Condemned to a life of squeezing out as many heirs as possible?” She ranted. Her brother appeared horrified by her words, eyes widening as he stared at her, mouth agape like a fish out of water. He closed his mouth, blinking rapidly a couple of times and composing himself.

“I assure you that is the last thing Kermit and father wished for you.” He sincerely tried to reason with her, stepping towards her. 

“They’ve condemned me to a life of misery, forced to marry a man who despises me, Oscar.” She snapped, her voice a hiss. “A man who only means to humiliate me and drag my name through the mud for no reason at all. He made that very clear in front of Kermit last night, and he laughed! This…monstrosity was not born of honor or respect, but rather a man’s pride and their want for more power, I am just some pawn to entertain that idea.” 

Oscar hesitated before grabbing her upper arm, beginning to drag her further down the pathway of the garden suddenly, hushing her as he glanced behind them towards the guards who appeared to have been alerted to her rant and had eyed her as she spoke. They crossed the yard, and though she attempted to wriggle from his grasp she was left unsuccessful, confused, and angry as he dragged them another several feet before releasing her, “What do you think you’re doing?” She snapped, stumbling back a step when he released her. He looked at her. 

“You’ve every right to be angry, but need I remind you you’re a noble-highborn lady, sister.” He suddenly interrupted, her mouth open and ready to spew more angry rants. “Do you understand what that means? You’re invaluable, especially now. Especially amidst a war that hangs at our front doorstep, that is sure to bring bloodshed that neither you nor I could ever comprehend. Now I am sorry that Benjicot is not the match you’ve always wished for, but you are a highborn lady-- you have as much a part in this as any of us. I do not mean to scare you but pull your head out of the ground.” 

She gawked at him, eyes wide and processing his words, reflecting on events of the past few weeks. Surely, she hadn’t been naive enough to think that the moment Aegon took the throne as a usurper, she hadn’t expected any less -- that a war of some degree would happen and her brothers and father would be called to the frontlines. But something about the urgency of his tone, the underlying fear there both in voice and face, sent shivers down her spine as she deflated. 

“Sister, listen to me. This was not an easy choice for either of them, I have listened to them these past weeks. But please try to see reason-- this is a time of uncertainty…of fear for even the toughest of men.” He said, closing the gap between to grab her hand, holding it between his as she stared at him, a frown of confusion etching itself into her features, “There are rumors from Kings Landing of Prince Lucerys’ death, some saying that it was one of the King Viserys’ own children who have slain him…”

“What?”

 Kinslaying, in the walls of King's Landing.

“Listen to me!” He snapped in response to her interruption, sighing. “Rhaenyra means to build an army, we have been called upon. The Blackwood’s too, Serra. We will be expected to march to war any day now..” 

She began to withdraw her hand, turning to look back at Raventree and trying to recall where they had entered the gardens from, beginning to hurry from their spot in the yards, “I…must see the father. Surely, these are just rumors.” She muttered, turning from her brother, Oscar’s face falling as he watched after her in a state of despair, his eyes filled with worry as he clenched his jaw, fighting the urge to say anything more than a quiet plea of her name. 

He had said enough. 

—

Serra stood by the doors of the grand hall, watching as her father and Samwell quietly conversed among themselves for what felt like eternity. Stood silently, clinging to whatever corner she could without getting in the way as the house staff rushed about, preoccupied by last-minute preparations ahead of the feast confirming their betrothal to the other houses — in a mere, short hours, everyone in the Riverlands would know that she and Benjicot Blackwood were to be married; a Tully to a Blackwood. Everyone from Raventree, to the Brackens and beyond once word spread. Her father would be sure to make it an occasion to be celebrated, as grand and extravagant as he could muster in these times. 

There was a moment where he had caught her eye, mid-conversation with Samwell. If pride and joy could be embodied into the form of a person, she could have assumed it would have been him right then, a broad smile on his face and looking at her as though she could do no wrong;  as though she had just ended the war before it could even take place and that of any others in the future — she wondered how diluted he had to have become since leaving Riverrun, convincing himself she’d wanted any part of this — Enough that he could suppress his supposed guilt and smile at her like that? 

Serra forced a tight-lipped smile in return while burying any hint of anger that bubbled inside her, instead maintaining her polite attitude and quiet as she allowed the two older men to finish their conversation in the meantime. She clutched her skirts and tucked herself as far out of the way as she could, picking at her nails and watching as the room came together, adorned in hues of burgundy’s, silver, and grey, lavish and extravagant.

It was only once the arrival of guests had begun did they break apart, all smiles and handshakes as they parted ways, that her father turned and made his way towards his daughter. That same soft smile that radiated pride on his face while he reached out for her hands, “My little dove.” He greeted, taking her hands into his as he looked her over, “I hope your journey was a smooth one and your brother’s company to be kind.” Elmo said, his voice laced with sincerity as he eyed his daughter; his gaze prying at the last half of his sentence. 

She drew in a sharp breath, voice small amidst the noise as she replied, “It was…tolerable. Long.” She admitted, her gaze following a young servant boy who barely looked of age as he rushed in with utensils to be laid out at the table, his eyes straight ahead. 

His stare remained on her, scanning her face and noting the tension in his daughter’s features, a contrast to her usually calm demeanor as he gently squeezed her hands to regain her attention. She looked back at him suddenly, gaze dropping to their hands with her mouth pursed, his eyes trying to find hers, “My dear,” he said, head lowering slightly as his concern became palpable by her uncharacteristic behavior. “Something troubles you.” He pointedly stated. 

He watched her shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath, one that was held and let out from behind clenched teeth. She looked up at him and once again in the direction of the table where a young girl was placing down napkins, straightening them with meticulous accuracy to ensure that each piece of fabric was placed identically; the red stitching catching her attention…

“Come, let’s walk and find somewhere to speak where there might not be as many distractions,” Elmo stated, releasing one of her hands and beginning to guide her in the direction of the doors with one arm coming around her shoulders. 

Serra looked up at him, nodding as they walked. She withdrew her hand from his and found his elbow, her other clutching at her skirts to pull them away from her feet, a measure to keep from tripping over the fabric that reached the toes of her shoes; her head down and allowing her father to guide them, offering pleasantries to a pair of councilmen they passed. He led them around the corner and down a hallway, Serra’s shoulders relaxing with relief as they’d found quiet — the hum of workers and chatter, a faint hum in the background, birds chirping from the yard, and the occasional shout from children playing somewhere in the gardens. The hallway was lit by natural lighting from the still bright skies, lined with windows that were almost thrice the size of her; their ledges up to her waist as they walked. After a few minutes of peace and using the opportunity to breathe for the first time since that morning, Serra was reminded of her conversation with Oscar, her eyes out the window to her right and stiffening again. 

“Tell me what bothers you, dove.” Elmo suddenly said from her left, her hands clasping together around his elbow; fidgeting with a ring on her right hand. 

“You did not tell me you were summoned to war.” She stated, turning her head to look at her father, whose features softened and morphed into a look of sorrow. 

“Because we haven’t…not yet, at least.” Elmo honestly replied, watching his daughter’s face intently, searching for any sort of emotion that could pinpoint her feelings, even a twitch of her lip or a squint. “I did not think it to be of any concern. I figured you would…become too engrossed in your wedding planning.” He continued, letting out a sigh as he covered her hands with one of his own, her own two hands enveloped by one of his with ease. 

“Why send me away now?” She asked, voice quiet and childlike. “Why not let me stay? Help somehow?” 

“You are helping, dove— by being here.” He assured, stopping their pace to pause in the middle of the bridge that overlooked the yards. He looked at her, “This is how you help. By being here— the sacredness of marriage and creating alliances that will help us in the days to come, that is your battle. Securing our house’s future, my dear girl.” He softly said. 

Her eyes stung with tears that welled up as she sucked in a breath, a flurry of emotions swelling in her chest— the anger, grief for what could have been if things had been different, the sadness. The fear and dread. 

“I know this is not what you wanted and I am sorry for placing you in this position against your will. And I am sorry for putting the needs of our house over your happiness,” he said, taking one of her hands into his and squeezing it gently as he lowered his head, ensuring he was eye-to-eye while they spoke, “But I know you will be safe here, even when I cannot be here to see to it myself.” 

“And what of you? Of Kermit and Oscar?” She asked finally, “Of grandfather?” 

Elmo’s mouth pursed into a line, stress lines creasing themselves deep into his face, “I will continue acting in your grandfather’s place, he’s too…old and senile to act in his better judgment. I would sooner deal with his weakened wrath than that of Rhaenyra’s dragons.” He muttered, patting her hand, “Kermit is to marry Lyanna Grey and Oscar to Margaery Chambers by year’s end.”

She looked away, looking back out the window behind her and towards the fields beyond the gates of Raventree, an ache in her chest at the thought of her brother’s facing the same fate she’d been doomed to; forced into a loveless marriage, “Is this what mother would have wanted for us? To marry strangers, without knowing what it was to be loved in return?” She quietly asked, unable to meet his gaze as her head turned and she found herself staring at her feet, fidgeting under his stare. 

Her words could have broken his heart then and there, the sight of his daughter so distraught. Duty aside, Elmo Tully had never been a cruel man and loved his children dearly. 

“No…” he admitted honestly, “she would not have.” He quietly added.

Serra let out a laugh under her breath, a bitter sound as she slid her hands from his and fidgeted with a stray fabric on her skirt. Elmo watched her for a moment, “And what comes from this marriage? What do we receive?” She asked, her tone changing to one more resembling anger, shaking as she spoke and looked up at him. 

He pondered his next words, a deep breath being exhaled from his nose, “We have promised military and territorial support to the Blackwoods in addition to your dowry. They in return have promised a trade agreement for routes directly between the two houses, resources controlled by their house, and their military aid. They’ve promised troops and weaponry.” Elmo slowly explained to not overwhelm her, running through the negotiation that had taken weeks to come by. “Benjicot has promised to keep you safe and act as your sworn protector, which is the most important thing to me.” 

Serra’s hands flung up with a sharp laugh, hardly able to believe his words as she turned and neared the ledge of the window, “And what might he protect me from, other than him?”

Her father stood back for a moment as she leaned into the ledge with her hands, a breeze passing through the corridor. He slowly approached her once he felt he had given her enough a moment to breathe, keeping some space between them and taking her left, looking out where she stared, “I know you two have not seen eye-to-eye in previous years and have had your quarrels. I recognize that it may not have been my best decision and may come as a betrayal.” 

He said, looking over at her while her gaze avoided him, straight ahead, “I know it is daunting marrying a stranger, someone who you do not love or trust yet. When I first married your mother, I barely knew her. But over time, we grew to love and understand each other deeply. Your mother and I learned to support and respect each other through our journey together. You and Benjicot will have the same opportunity to grow and build a bond if you give things a chance to…grow.” He tried to reassure her, unsure if he was successful as she did not even glance at him. 

He turned his head and rocked back and forth against the ledge for a moment, “I know he was not the best as a child, but he’s grown despite his antics. Kermit tells me last night did not go as he hoped, he and his father extended their apologies this morning.” he explained, earning another bitter laugh, “Benjicot is a good man though, with good values and he is loyal. In time I can only hope that he will prove that and you will come to appreciate his character.” Elmo said, suddenly drawn to the sound of grunts and wood colliding from beneath them, craning his head to catch a glimpse of a training pit that had been haphazardly built, two boys swinging their swords in a spar; his body turned towards his daughter but watching on as he spoke.

Serra turned to him finally, frowning, “You think he will treat me with the respect and kindness I deserve? Do you truly think he has grown? Because it seems like everyone else believes that to be true, but he’s yet to show me any signs of that.” 

“I do.” 

“And if you’re wrong?” She asked. “Then I’m to be doomed to a life of misery and suffering, married to a man who finds me insufferable?” 

His gaze lifted from the spar below them, letting out a chuckle at his daughter’s rant and reaching out again to gather one of her hands in his, “You will be fine, I am sure of it.” He softly said, “While it’s natural to feel uncertain, trust that this union has the potential to bring joy and strength. Give it a chance, as I did with your mother. You have the support and strength of our entire family behind you. We will be here for you every step of the way, dove.” 

They stared at each other for a moment, and though Serra was unsure she felt any more confident in Benjicot, she felt a sense of comfort in her father’s words. His free hand lifted to cup her face, stepping forward and pressing a kiss to the top of her head, “You are a Tully, my dear girl. You will always be okay.” He muttered into her hair, backing up and releasing her hand. His gaze flickered towards the pit below them once more, flashing her a smile before he took his leave, brushing past her and returning in the direction of the hall without saying anything more and leaving her in silence, processing his words; picking at the edges of her nails, plucking at the skin. 

Her interest peaked at whatever his eyes had found amidst the yard as a shout interrupted her thoughts. 

Her gaze turned down to where her father’s own had been moments prior. She had to lean over the ledge of the window to see where his attention had been drawn to — there, her eyes landed on a dirt patch in a clearing of grass, a brown-haired boy engaged in a spar with another boy, circling one another with wood swords in hand; stripped down to their tunics as they trained, doublets long-since abandoned in the grass. Serra had never been one to take an interest in the hobbies of men, having never understood the fun of rolling in the dirt with faux swords, but as they turned slightly, her gaze was drawn to the taller boy of the two. 

Benjicot. He turned, broad-shouldered, lean, and admittedly handsome Benjicot, whose gaze was transfixed intensely on his opponent — a boy she recognized as a cousin of his — with such focus, sword in his right hand. His sweat-slick face, red and flushed, pulled into a frown of concentration. She watched on as he swung the sword down on the boy opposite of him, the swords colliding in a crack! that echoed through the yard, causing his opponent to stumble back before the sword swung in his direction again; just missing his belly and leaping back out of its path. There was hardly a chance for his cousin to recoil from his attack, the sword once more being swung upwards and just missing his chin in the process. She could admit that Benjicot was not just another Southern boy, weak and existing behind false confidence — Benjicot was also powerful and fierce. He was a ferocious warrior in battle. He was an impressive force to be reckoned with. Suddenly, the thought of her brothers and father fighting alongside him on the battlefield did not seem as daunting or terrifying to think about. 

She continued to watch on as his cousin stumbled back, holding his sword up and blindly swinging at Benjicot, who responded by lifting his right foot and kicking him by his chest onto his back with one swift blow; sending the male reeling backward into the dirt with a grunt when his head slammed back into the ground. Benjicot quickly stood over him, the tip of his sword being pressed against his throat, panting, “I thought you said you were going to take it easy today.” His cousin panted. 

Benjicot withdrew his sword, the pair laughing as he offered a hand to assist him to his feet after a moment, “I did.” He replied.

The two boys quietly chatted amongst themselves for a moment longer, laughter echoing across the yard. His cousin -- Emrys, a boy she had met once prior -- laughed as he walked away from their place in the training circle with a clap to his shoulder, shaking his head at whatever Benjicot muttered as he walked out of sight and into the castle floor beneath her. Serra, however, lingered; watching Benjicot now, who was seemingly unaware of her presence, go to the grass to pick up his doublet and a spare sword that sat beneath it. His back had been turned to her as he wiped off the swords of dust, his gaze cast out on the field that was slowly being engulfed by dusk for a minute.

She began to recede from her spot after a few minutes more passed, hoping to turn and leave before he even had the chance to see her. However, she was unsuccessful in her feat as he turned around abruptly, eyes turning their attention up to the balcony she stood on and meeting her gaze as she flushed with embarrassment and remained frozen to the spot -- there was no hiding the fact that she had been watching him now, looking down at him. His mouth twitched, the lines in his face appearing for half a second, but gone just as quickly as though what she assumed was a scowl threatened to surface as he held her gaze. 

Instead, he bowed. 

“My lady.” He muttered, standing upright before striding back inside; her gaze stuck on the spot where he had been. 

She blinked, glancing behind her once, the fact dawning on her that in moments, he would be in her hallway and she would be face to face with him. She clenched her fists, embarrassed enough as is and red-faced, beginning to hurry back to her chambers; the sound of footsteps echoing from the staircase as she passed them. If the Gods were cruel, they would have had her run right into him, but if they had any mercy to spare her-- 

Her thought was interrupted, slamming her door behind her and pressing her back to it, wide-eyed as she stood there, struggling to hold her breath to be as quiet as possible. She listened carefully to the hallway, able to make out the sound of footsteps approaching her door. Surely, he had not come to confront her? She hadn’t done anything wrong. 

The footsteps slowed to a complete stop just beyond her door, halting there, just outside. She tensed up completely, eyes closing as she silently crept further into her room and away from the door, praying the floor would not give away her presence as she slowly walked towards the center of the room; hand over her mouth to silence her heavy breathing and glancing towards the door to see if she could make out any feet beneath the door. Though she could not see anyone, even as she bent over at the waist and strained her eyes, she could still sense their presence. 

The footsteps suddenly continued, walking past her doorway quickly and receding down the hallway until she could no longer hear them, free to breathe and finally relax. What in good God's name was he doing? Was he just hellbent on tormenting her, by stalking around the castle like that? Surely, this couldn’t be the same man her father thought had changed and grown out of his tactics of terrorizing her as a child. 

She continued backing up until her knees met the frame of the bed, her hand dropping away from her mouth and letting out a sigh as she sat down. 

—

Benjicot did not even wish to join the feast.

The thought made him feel sick, doing everything in his power to prolong his having to head down to the dinner hall that had been busy with servants finalizing decorating, and setting up before they began greeting guests — he could hear the chatter from his chamber, and if he looked outside, stuck his head out the window and turned his head just right, he could see them coming and going with supplies. On the other hand, he knew if he was too late, his father would sooner have his head on a spike — there seemed to be no winning for him these days. 

Rather than feed into the dread that sat heavy in the pit of his stomach like a ball of lead, he chose to busy himself with tasks that had value to them, tasks that would busy his mind — rather than twiddle his thumbs, he organized and skimmed through his old history textbooks; previously a stack on the floor in a corner of his chambers. Rather than chew his nails, he chose to seek out Emrys and train. But even that had not done much for him, coming face to face with one source of his anxiety — feeling her gaze watch his every move. He could feel his shoulders tense, realizing someone was watching him from somewhere behind, and coming to find the Tully girl on the balcony that overlooked the training ground; reeling back when he turned. The very sight of her caused the taste of bile to crawl up the back of his throat, anger bubbling up inside him that he was forced to push down, somewhere deep within him.

He could still hear his father’s voice, his hand at his neck and warning him whenever he saw her — and then that stupid look on her face when he had come out of the doors the night prior. Pitiful and sad. 

He hadn’t even realized he was doing it, coming to her door and stopping outside of it, unsure what possessed him to follow her there — he didn’t have anything to say to her. He didn’t need anything from her. Maybe he just wanted to look at her again. Benjicot could hear her footsteps from beyond the door, creeping further from him as he could presume she was trying to get as far away from the door. And just as quickly as he had slipped into a daze that found him at her door, he shook it off and stormed back to his room, fists balled at his sides and jaw clenched. 

His gaze was fixed on the ceiling of his room, the servants coming and going meanwhile, with their gazes down as they retrieved soaps and oils for the young heir before hurrying out as quickly as they rushed in without a word. The room soon fell into a silence as he sank into the tub, embracing its warmth that worked to ease the tension in his muscles with his arms laid out over the sides of the tub, and clutching the ledges with a white-knuckled grip — he should have found it relaxing…the silence and the warmth the water provided. But the past twenty-four hours had left him too on edge to think of anything more than the war, his father’s words…his soon-to-be-bride. His head turned, leaning against his right shoulder as his hand released the tub, watching his fingers flex, stretching out before clenching into a fist. 

Benjicot had never pictured himself to be much of a husband. As a boy, he understood the duty of it — of marriage and honor, the need for heirs to keep their house strong, their future line secure. That was the value of it, after all. Was security. Built through hundreds of years of alliances, marriage pacts, and children that would follow the path of their father and their father before him. Just as Benjicot’s father had done at the young age of ten and six. 

Benjicot did not remember much about his mother  — he did not even know who she was before all the grief and illness that kept her confined to her room, as his father had avoided the topic of her much throughout his childhood. After trying to ask about her time and time again after she passed when he was ten-and-one, Benjicot gave up. Of the very little he could manage to get out of his father, he knew that she had struggled in childbirth with him, that she had reached for him, brought him to her chest, and uttered her love for him. Benjicot resembled his mother in a lot of ways — he was a splitting image of his sweet mother but had taken his father’s hair color. She had been born a Lannister and married into the Blackwood’s, barely sixteen herself; well-spoken and confident. Benjicot knew his father loved her, even if he did not say it aloud. 

He could recall the pain in his eyes whenever he pressed the subject to know her better, dismissing him as a boy and ending the conversation at that. 

“She loved you.” Was all he could offer.

Benjicot had heard whispers, too. That there had been at least four stillborn and two miscarriages before him; wracking her with guilt and grief that left her bedridden for days on end. His father had spent weeks trying to coax her from her room, taking her meals to her. There had been one more stillborn after him and that had been it, the final straw. That was the only version Benjicot had come to know — the empty shell of a woman, who sat by her window, looking out over the pastures for hours at a time with empty, sunken in eyes, struggling just to eat the least amount of food she could. She was skin and bones, and Benjicot feared that if he had hugged her too tight, she might crumble in his arms. The sight of her that last year frightened him honestly. 

He shook off the thought, sinking further into the tub until the water lapped at his chin, knees bent up and out of the water to accommodate the short tub that was already a tight squeeze for him. If that grief and that pain and agony was part of “honor and duty”…Benjicot wanted no part of it. He had distanced himself from the subject of marriage after his mother’s funeral and had avoided any mention of it as best he could. The horror he felt when his father had gone behind his back and forced his hand was undoubtedly made even worse by the prospect of his bride. 

A girl who could barely look him in the eye, more fascinated by bugs and creatures than to have had the decency to introduce herself when they first met. He could recall her mother having to introduce her, bent at her side and reminding her daughter of propriety; only then did she quietly speak her name, covered in dirt. Benjicot could have forgiven it if she had taken to something like swordsmanship and training in battle like his aunt had — a skilled warrior with an arrow, but instead, she collected bugs.

Surely, she’d had a say in their match, as well. 

The very idea perplexed him that she would even choose him after everything. Benjicot had never been shy of making it known that he could not stand her as children. Even if they had both grown up and changed since he still could not see the reason behind it or what she had to benefit by choosing him. Benjicot Blackwood was a man who needed to understand and have an answer for everything.

Benjicot was not unaware that she had grown much since they had last seen each other. He also could not deny that she had taken a likeness to her mother’s beauty, having grown into her looks in womanhood — she could not have been short of her pick from potential suitors who would have given her the time of day, asking for her hand. She was by means not unlucky in looks. She had less interest in playing with bugs that crawled all over her these days, too. The very fact that he could not make sense of it frustrated him to no end; instead, thoughts of Serra Tully stirred a feeling in his belly, ones that spread across his chest that he could not quite place a finger on — a mix of fury and…something more. 

He sat up abruptly with a growl, water splashing around him and over the ledge of the tub; spilling over onto the wooden floors as he cupped some of the water between his hands and splashed it into his face. His hands carded through his hair, tugging at the roots as he let out a sigh that echoed off the walls of his chamber, slumping back against the tub — this seemed to be his only safe space, away from the suffocating reality of the expectations placed upon him, laying heavy on his shoulders. It was doing little to rid him of the thoughts that plagued his mind if even just for a moment.

He stilled, frozen and unmoving as a thought crossed his mind. His right hand, which had found its way back to the ledge of the tub, slid underneath the water, his hand slipping between his thighs and taking his cock into his grasp— confident he would have some time at least. He was desperate for some kind of distraction at this point, a last-ditch effort to soothe his mind as his hand moved with languid movements against himself, head hanging back against the headrest as his eyes closed and he started to relax for a moment; attempting to lose himself in the lewd act. His mouth dropped open with a sigh, the early flickers of arousal beginning to burn in his belly as his hand increased pace, chest rising with a heavy breath— 

“My lord.”

The door shot open with minimal warning, Alistair’s voice interrupting the silence as he entered the room, coming to an abrupt stop at the door. The sudden interruption caused Benjicot to shoot upright in the tub, hand leaving his crotch and gripping the tub once more to pull himself forward, hissing, “Fuck!” He shouted, heart pounding as he panted, a hand dragging over his face, “What? What is it?” He snapped hurriedly, humiliated.

Alistair stuttered for a moment, visibly flustered as Benjicot turned his head slightly to look at him; hair falling into his eyes that he quickly brushed back. He nodded, “My apologies, my lord, I--…” he said, pausing. “Your father and the Tully’s have already been seated in the great hall. As have your guests. Your father has asked for you.” 

Benjicot was still trying to bring down his heart rate when he nodded, waving him out dismissively, “Thank you.” He grumbled. 

Alistair nodded once more at the heir, gaze down as he turned and rushed from the room, allowing Benjicot to finally slump back again; face burning from the humiliation of their interaction. 

— 

The feast was loud and dragging on. 

Benjicot had arrived and been greeted by the familiar faces of the many other houses of the Riverlands, painfully aware they were not oblivious to and noted his lateness as punctuality had not a trait that he had ever been known for since he was a boy. He had become quite practiced at avoiding their gazes as he took his seat, not bringing any further attention to himself than was necessary -- or at least more than already was. It had been no secret that the feast was hosted on his behalf, specifically emphasized in the letters that had been dispatched by Raven two days prior, and he could have only assumed that everyone had some inkling of what had brought them together. Samwell Blackwood was not a man who cared for hosting events as grand as this occasion had turned out to be often unless it was of high importance, and it had been no secret that he intended to find a wife for his son. Even glancing around, Benjicot could have counted at least a half dozen of the Lords who were within arms reach who had offered their daughters hands since he was ten-and-six, his face buried in a chalice of wine and scanning the table. 

His father, although he had announced his arrival with feigned pride at the sight of the boy Lord, Benjicot could see the hint of a discontented frown from the opposite end of the table when he entered. He had remained silent, however, relieved but unsure if he preferred the silence over a scold, leaving him on edge the entire night. 

It didn’t help his nerves that the only chair that had been saved for him was nestled right in between his father and his betrothed at his right, with Elmo sitting across from him on his father’s left, Kermit across from Serra. He had balled his hands into fists at his side during the walk to his seat at the head of the table, bowing his head with a muttered greeting to the Tully father and son who offered pleasantries among the hum of conversation. Meanwhile, Serra’s eyes had remained down at the table, hands in her lap, demurely sitting beside him and only briefly catching his stare when he muttered a quiet greeting to her while pulling out his chair and sitting down. 

They remained otherwise silent, the quiet that had befallen them only broken by his father, spiraling into Elmo and Kermit making conversation by recalling stories of their childhood. Benjicot sat with his elbows on the table in front of him, hands clasped together while his chin rested on his knuckles, humming and letting out a chuckle sometimes in response to certain memories, his eyes otherwise scanning the table and the guests. He watched the way they became rowdier with more wine. 

His thoughts were interrupted by the clink of a cup, his father standing from the table. The table finally silenced for the first time in hours, eyes watching his father with anticipation as he held his chalice high. 

"Lords and ladies, esteemed friends and allies, it is with great pleasure and honor that I stand before you tonight. In the spirit of unity and the strengthening of bonds between our noble houses, I am delighted to announce the betrothal of my beloved son, Benjicot, to the gracious and noble, Serra, daughter of Lord Elmo of House Tully.” Samwell announced, his voice carrying to every corner of the room. He paused, looking down at the young couple who looked up at him, his gaze landing on his son and nodding to himself before he continued, “May their union bring prosperity, joy, and enduring friendship to our families. Let us raise our glasses in celebration of this auspicious occasion." He finally finished, looking back out at the table that erupted in applause and cheerful exclamations of agreement. 

Benjicot, however, sharply inhaled; fighting the urge to scowl as he looked into his nearly empty cup, hiding his stare as his father began to sit down. In the corner of his eye, he witnessed a guard come forward, Alistair standing over his shoulder when Ben’s eyes lifted briefly to look over and see him muttering something into his ear; witnessing the moment his father tensed up. 

“Excuse me, pardon-- I…” Samwell said, standing up again. 

The prying eyes of the room remained on Samwell as he nodded, the guard stepping back and towards the wall where he had planted himself. The Blackwood Lord slowly turned his attention back to the table that had fallen silent, awaiting his next words, his cool stare shifting around for a moment before his mouth opened once more, “My apologies for disturbing your supper once again,” He begrudgingly stated,  “It has been brought to my attention that…the Prince Jaehaerys Targaryen was murdered in his bed last night.” 

It was at that point that all hell broke loose, his words met with a gasp from somewhere at the table before the table erupted in men’s anger and uproar at the news. Meanwhile, Benjicot watched his father slowly sit back down in silence, the prior joy on his face now replaced by a stoic expression; visibly drawn back into his thoughts as Elmo spoke up, “Gods be good... Pray that he went quickly.” He quietly muttered, his hand tightening around his chalice as the chaos raged on in light of the news. 

“Yes…” Benjicot blurted, his gaze meeting Elmo’s from across the table, the latter of whom had gone for a drink from his cup; glancing between the young lord and his daughter who was visibly shaken by the news, her hands now clenched on the table. Benjicot could make out in the corner of his eye as she looked over at him, turning his head just enough and looking down at her left hand that was closest to him. He released his cup, setting it down against the table, and reached across to lay his hand over hers as if to comfort her though he could feel her stiffen. He disregarded her reaction and turned back to her father, “Pray that his suffering has ended.”

Benjicot watched as her father stared at their hands, glancing again between them before he visibly relaxed at the sight and nodded in response to his words. He wasn’t certain his eyes were playing tricks on him, but he saw the small hint of a smile on Elmo’s face, thrown in the direction of his daughter that was brief before he looked away.  Serra’s hand quickly withdrew to drop into her lap, her gaze bearing into the side of his face as he lifted his chalice then with the now free hand and took a drink -- he only meant to gauge her reaction, get some hint of his prior question on her motive. He let out a ‘hm’ into his cup, his eyes casting left and meeting hers, his eyebrows shooting up. She looked down. 

He had an answer he could work with at least.

TAGLIST: @tannyfairy @username199945, @cxcilla, @thethiccestdaddy, @deltamoon666, @drwho-ess, @callsigncrushx , @clarityisnofun @jhepolie, @juhdoche @majoso12 @roseheart5 , @nixtape-foryou , @poppyflower-22 @accidentpronedork

[snowsonlylove]

Looking So Crazy in Love

Pairing: Academy!Coriolanus Snow x Enemy!Reader

Summary: Y/N Y/L/N and Coriolanus Snow have been butting heads since the very first time they met despite their parents being mutual friends, which makes them frustrated as it means that they have to see each other every time the families gather. Now, they’re both 18 and are considered young adults. Their friends, Arachne and Festus, are sick of them arguing and throw them in a closet to sort it out (Arachne secretly setting this up with Festus after seeing how Coriolanus looks at Y/N), which leads to them having rough, hateful sex.

Fic Type: Smut (NSFW) 18+, Enemies to Lovers

Warnings: blowjob, unprotected sex (don’t do this people, wear it before you tap dat ass), degradation, mommy issues, lmk if i missed anything

Word Count: 2.3k

I do not own Coriolanus Snow or Y/N Y/L/N (cuz it’s you, boo). All credits go to Suzanne Collins and her team. Song credits also go to Beyonce and her team. 

Also, ageless and empty blogs will be BLOCKED as this is a 18+ fic. Report my fics and you’re blocked cuz if u don’t like it, LEAVEEEE.

Y/N Y/L/N and Coriolanus Snow first met during the tender age of 3, both being the only children of their families and the apples of their fathers’ eyes. You may think that this makes it so that they have something in common, however that is totally not the case. Since the first time they’ve looked into each other’s eyes, all they saw was someone who can take away their parent’s love because of how similar they are.

Coriolanus felt that Y/N was someone that his parents would really love as there was a time where her mother mentioned having a girl instead of a boy. That statement made him blind with rage since he thought that his mother never saw him as good enough. He professed this to his father, who looked shocked as he comforted him before confronting his mother after, which led to a huge fight he would rather not discuss.

Y/N however had it worse as her mother always saw her as someone who could take her spot as the sole love of her husband and hated her since birth. Whenever she looked into Y/N’s eyes, all she saw was hate, burning aflame as she saw red with how much she hated her daughter. Y/N not only took away her beauty, but added to her life baggage as she started to have droopy eyes, saggy breasts and a flabby stomach, making her hate Y/N more.

15 years later, both Y/N and Coriolanus are now 18, both preparing for their coming of age gala hosted in the Y/L/N’s estate. As Y/N got ready for the upcoming gala, she thought about how much better life had been had her mother accepted her for who she is. She doesn’t know why her mother hated her, always criticising her looks, her weight, her actions. She was just sick of it. She wanted a way out of it, and she would find a way.

Coriolanus on the other hand, had started to notice how Y/N’s features have benefitted her lately, her ass plumper, her breasts more prominent and her facial features all enhanced into a perfect symphony. He doesn’t know what this tugging feeling is, but he always felt it when being in proximity, especially when in the same room with Y/N. He tried to be discreet as he took glances from time to time, admiring her features. Unfortunately, he was not as sleek as he thought as a certain Arachne Crane saw this exchange and devised the perfect plan before running to her go-to pal for chaos, Festus Creed.

As Y/N finished getting ready, Coriolanus arrived to the Y/L/N mansion looking exceptionally handsome with his curls perfectly tame, his dress shirt clinging to his perfectly sculpted muscles and his blazer and dress pants a perfect blood red, referring to the Snow’s love for roses as the Snow family entered the estate, the picture of perfection if there ever was one.

Coriolanus looked around the crowd, before treating himself to a tall glass of posca, anxious to see what his arch-nemesis looked like when all of the sudden, the lights dimmed in the estate as the Y/L/N family walked down the ginormous flight of stairs, all made of expensive granite as Y/N’s parents walked down hand-in-hand before Y/N joined shortly after. All eyes on her as they stared in either awe or jealousy as she sauntered down the flight of stairs like she owned it (which she does fyi). 

Coriolanus felt every movement around him slow down as he took in Y/N’s appearance as one of an angel, with her feathery dress cut down to a modest length, ending just above her thighs as the dress had jewels and rhinestones echo around her in a wave of beauty, wrapping around her features like a second skin of sorts. As he glanced at her, she suddenly met his gaze and gave him a look of confusion, which immediately made him snap out of his trance as he walked away.

Y/N reached the floor of the gala as she glided through the crowd to the drinks station, in which she entertained herself to a glass of posca, swallowing the harsh liquid in one go. She examined the crowd as she saw her friends talking and decided to join in their conversation. “Hi guys, what are we discussing?” Arachne looked at Y/N, feigning surprise all the sudden, “Oh! Look who’s joined us, the star of the moment.” Y/N looked at Arachne with a pointed look, tilting her head to the side, “That, I am. Thank you for saying that, Arachne. Always looking forward to hearing something so unprofessional from that dick-sucking mouth of yours.” She gave her a snide smile after.

Most of the friend group around them laughed, some even slapping their friend’s arms in disbelief. It was at that moment where Coriolanus showed up and swung a hand over Y/N’s shoulder, acting as if they were best friends. Y/N then looked at him incredulously, shoving his hand out of her shoulder. The group looked at them as if they were watching a movie. The atmosphere was tense for a moment before Clemensia let out a frustrated sigh, “Oh my god! Guys, what is up with you two? You guys always fight every time you’re together and it’s killing me over here!” 

Both Y/N and Coriolanus looked at her, shocked before their arms were pulled by two bodies. Arachne pulled Y/N and Festus pulled Coriolanus as they dragged the two to a quiet shady place in the Y/L/N estate before shoving them in a nearby closet and locking it from the outside. “Y/N! Coriolanus! We’re sick of you two fighting! You two better work it out if you want to be let out!” Y/N’s and Coriolanus’s hands were turned to fists as their hands furiously banged on the closet to be let out. “Let me out, you bitch! Oh, just wait until I get out of here!” Y/N screamed as her face turned red. Arachne and Festus laughed from outside the closet before pulling each other towards the gala, leaving the two of them alone.

Coriolanus sighed as Y/N gave up and tried her best to sit with whatever space they had. “Hey, are you okay?” Coriolanus said as Y/N looked at him, her face the picture of female rage. “Okay? What the fuck do you mean am i okay Coriolanus?! Are you fucking kidding me?! God! I can’t believe you’re that dumb!” Coriolanus was offended by that statement as he stared at her for a moment for furrowed brows before responding in an equally frustrated tone, “I’m just trying to comfort you, Y/N! God! I can’t even be civil with you anymore! Genuinely, what do I have to do to make you show me just an ounce of respect?!” 

Y/N looked at him with a deadpan expression, “Are you actually fucking with me right now? Coryo, we’ve never been friends! The fact that you think we'd be best friends now is seriously beyond me. Why do you even care, huh? Every time you look at me, all you do is look at me like I crushed your favourite Barbie doll or something, why do you think I’d be civil with you?” She kept on riling him up as Coriolanus stood in the closet, heaving huge, deep breaths as he tried to calm himself down before he suddenly exploded, “Because I like you, okay! Good God! I don’t know when or how I like you but it. just. happened. There! Happy now?!’

Y/N looked at him, her breaths slowing down as she looked at him with an expression of disbelief, “What… W-What? H-How, Coriolanus?” “I don’t know, Y/N! All I know is that I’m in love with you and it’s killing me that you’re not even looking at me whenever we’re together.” Y/N looked at him, her mouth turned to an “O” shape, “Oh…” Coriolanus continued, his hands suddenly going to cup her cheeks as he leaned his forehead towards hers, “Y/N Y/L/N… I have been in love with you and I haven’t been honest about it. I’ve gone from wanting to kill you.. to wanting to kill for you. Please, don’t push me away. Let’s work this out..” 

Y/N reluctantly leaned in as she closed the gap between them, their teeth and tongues clashing together in a crazed frenzy. It was almost like a battle between them as Y/N pulled on Coriolanus’s bottom lip as he pushed her against the closet with what little space they had, making the closet move with great force as they stumbled a little without breaking their kiss. They continue this battle as they roughly shoved each other’s clothes out of the other’s as Y/N tore Coriolanus’s dress shirt open after shoving his blazer off, ripping the fabric and tearing the buttons off in the process.

Meanwhile, Coriolanus’s hands went to the back of her dress and quickly pulled her zipper down before roughly shoving her dress down, tugging her lace underwear down and unclipping her bra with one hand. Y/N’s hands roamed around his chest as she moved from kissing his lips to kissing his neck, collarbone and shoulder before continuing all the way to his barely visible happy trail, tugging the zipper of his pants down just enough for her to pull his huge, aching hardness with pre-cum leaking on its tip.

Y/N tried her best to kneel as she looked up to him with her eyes glazed with lust as she pumped his dick up and down a few times before swirling her tongue on the tip of his dick and working up until she was able to take about half of his dick until she suddenly felt this force on her head, pushing her down further to take more of his dick. She then heard one of the most slutty groans ever as she smirked in accomplishment. She started with a slow but deep pace before Coriolanus aided her in increasing her speed into a rough, unforgettably fast pace as the closet echoed with his groans and her gagging on his cock.

This did not last long as Coriolanus groaned a final time before shoving her head all the way to the hilt of his dick as he came into her throat. Y/N moaned as she felt the warm liquid in her throat as she swallowed dutifully before looking up at Coriolanus with her mascara streaming down her face, her lipstick smushed as when she pulled his dick out of her mouth, there was a noticeably red print on his dick. After pulling it out her mouth, Coriolanus continued grabbing her hair as he pulled her into another rough kiss and lined his dick with her pussy before stroking it to her clit a few times and finally pushing it in her dripping wetness, both of them moaning loudly in the process.

Coriolanus moaned, “Ohh, so good, Y/N. Such a dirty, dirty girl. You enjoyed having my dick in your mouth, huh? You're my nasty little slut, yeah? My. dirty. little. whore..” He said as he thrusted his erection in her center with every word. Y/N sighed in pleasure as she shakily moaned while she played with her tits, “Y-Yes, Coryo. Fuck me h-harder, I’m y-your little slut. I’m such a dirty little w-whore.”

This fueled Coryo as his thrusts became rougher and he continued thrusting himself into her harder and harder, causing the closet to shake in tandem as their moans and groans echoed around the closet. There was also a very distinct sound of skin slapping echoing as his balls slapped her ass, both Y/N and Coriolanus wrapping their arms around each other as Coriolanus lifted her right leg up to his waist as his thrusts became deeper with him getting close.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come, sweetheart. Such a good little whore..” His forehead was glistening with sweat as he felt his body becoming warmer and warmer with Y/N moaning incessantly as she also felt herself getting closer, “O-Ohh, Coryo! I’m so close, so so close. Oh, you’re gonna make me come.” She panted, “I’m coming, Coryo. I’m coming. OHH GODD!”

“So good, Y/N. So good..” Coriolanus panted as he quickly pulled out of her and pushed her down to her knees before pumping his cock and cumming on her face and breasts. His cum was everywhere. It decorated her nose, her eyebrows, her eyelashes, her forehead, down to her cheeks and lips, which were covered with his pearly white, spent. The rest was all over her collarbone, shoulder and her breasts as well as the valley of it. She damn looked like a whore, his whore.

“Y’so pretty like this.. covered in my cum everywhere. Just like one of those district whores. But now, you’re all mine sweetheart, you’d do well to remember that.” He said with an evil smirk. Y/N looked up at him, her eyes gleaming with mischief as she gave an evil smile of her own, “Who’s to say I am? You know, I might as well be fucking someone else. Sejanus looks pretty handsome tonight. Might even invite him-” Her words were taken out of her as his eyes turned a dark hue and he dragged her towards him and kissed her lips hard before going down and sucking a big, fat hickey on her. He tasted himself on her tongue but he didn’t care as he kept sucking, therefore preventing her on finding any other guy. 

Y/N moaned as she tangled her hands in his hair as as he pulled his face from her neck, he said with a dark tone, “No, sweetheart… That’s never gonna happen with me. Unless you look forward to seeing Sejanus’s decapitated head on the news one day? That is not happening anytime soon.. You’re mine, understand? No one is gonna touch you from now on.. You’re mine as much as I’m yours, understood?”

Y/N gave him a small smile as she responded with a soft tone, “Understood, Coryo.”

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Word List: Blossom

beautiful words with "blossom" for your next poem/story

Appleblossom - a grayish red that is bluer, less strong, and slightly lighter than bois de rose, bluer and slightly less strong than Pompeian red, and bluer, lighter, and stronger than livid brown

Blossomhead - surf scoter i.e., a common American scoter (Melanitta perspicillata) of which the adult male has conspicuous white markings on the head and neck with otherwise black plumage and the female and young are grayish brown

Blossomless - being without a blossom

Blossomry - blossoms

Blueblossom - a blue-flowered California shrub (Ceanothus thyrsiflorus)

Emblossom - to cover or adorn with blossoms

Peachblossom - moderate to strong pink that is yellower and lighter than hermosa pink or nymph pink; a deep pink to moderate purplish red that is bluer and stronger than rambler rose

If any of these words inspire your writing, do tag me or send me a link. I'd love to read your work!

More: Word Lists

[tenderleavesbob]

Few things scared Time after all these years, but when Wild casually mentioned that Twilight, Warriors, and Sky had been whisked away by some Gerudo warriors for "adult time"? Terror lent such speed to his steps that he could have beat the postman in a race.

He couldn't imagine the Gerudo attempting anything flirtatious with Warriors without things ending in fire and blood. Sky? His love and adoration for his Zelda was so well known that disrupting it seemed like blasphemy. Considering who his Zelda was? It might BE blasphemy. Twilight was so trapped in his strange, private grief that he would probably hate himself in the morning, and Time already shuddered at the idea of dragging him out of that spiral.

It was a little makeshift bar by the oasis. Outside was a sign with a man's face and a clear warning that "Bozai" was forbidden. Time would wonder about that later. A Gerudo guard stood outside but seemed to recognize Time as one of Wild's companions, as she only nodded and let him pass. Time nodded back in thanks and hurried on.

The small bar was tucked away in a large tent. Wild told him that it was relatively new and they never let him inside, saying he was too young. That didn't help Time's worry at all. The entire setup relied on old crates and barrels to make up the chairs and tables, showing exactly how new the bar was, but it worked well enough.

Warriors and Twilight were dancing on one of those tables.

Time froze by the entrance of the bar. He only moved when a Gerudo smacked his ass. Then he scurried to a safer vantage point with his bruised butt, torn between the scene in front of him and the excited, proud exclamations of the brave, brave Gerudo who had actually touched a voe's ass.

Sky was sitting on a barrel close to the table, flushed and bright-eyed and playing what sounded like an upbeat love song on his harp, his too loud, cheerful voice hinting at how many drinks he had so far. Two other Gerudo were playing instruments with him, while two others comforted another one behind them. Her laments that she would never find a voe who would sing that way about HER mixed oddly with the song.

While Warriors and Twilight danced on the makeshift table, uncaring how it wobbled under them, a Gerudo Time recognized from earlier whistled and tossed rupees at their feet. Her despairing wife's voice rose clearly above the din as she begged the other vai to stop, they weren't even dancing that well, definitely do not throw red rupees please!

All three of his boys were dressed in vai clothes. That baffled Time. When had they found them? How had they found a shade of blue which matched Warriors's scarf so perfectly?

Twilight dipped Warriors, who cackled like a fiend and did nothing to stop it. The Gerudo cheered. More rupees joined the collection. Sky sang about Sun's eyes. The Gerudo behind him sobbed even louder.

All right. His boys were fine. They would probably need a potion and plenty of water later, but for right now, they were fine.

Time, however, wasn't. A headache building behind his eyes, he walked to the bar and slammed down a handful of rupees. "Anything, please."

[photogirl894]

🌹 Hunter

Red Rose 🌹

This is my contribution to the Clone Flowers Fic Event that myself and some other mutuals are doing this week! Naturally, I had to snag Hunter 😉 I got a little carried away with this one, but honestly, I'm super, super proud of it!!

*Takes place after the events of TBB s3*

Enjoy!! 🥰 (divider by @firefly-graphics)

Being a florist had always been your dream. 

You loved everything about flowers ever since you were young.You had the luxury of traveling to several different planets and systems because your parents were traveling merchants, so you got to see the local flora of different places all the time. You started asking for seeds you could buy or, if it were possible, you’d dig up some plants to take home with you. As you got older, you planted the seeds in a big garden, dreaming of one day selling all these exotic plants you’d collected over the years and sharing them with other people. 

Over your years as a florist, not only had you learned various facts and lore about the plants and flowers you collected, but you had also learned the language of flowers and the meanings or symbolism behind a lot of them. It was fascinating to you how many different meanings were behind each flower, especially when there were so many. You knew which ones represented friendship, courage, fidelity, hope, love…there were a plethora of meanings and you enjoyed each and every one.

When it came time for you to leave home as an adult and start your own life, you continued traveling the galaxy and eventually, you decided to settle on the island of Pabu, a peaceful paradise where you could settle down with a place of your own with your own garden and where you could finally live your dream as a florist. The mayor of the island, Shep, thought that having a florist on the island was a wonderful idea. You were able to open your stall and show and sell all the flowers you collected. You even had little pamphlets that you printed and had on display on your stall for people to read and learn about the different flowers you had as well as the flower language and meanings behind each one.

You thought your life was already perfect...until a certain someone came into your life.

A small family of Clones had been on the island off and on for some time and you’d caught sight of them before. They piqued your curiosity, having never seen Clones on the island before. It wasn’t until they decided to permanently stay on the island that you got to see them around and got to know them more…especially one in particular.

Hunter.

He was probably the dreamiest, most handsome man you’d ever beheld, which was saying a lot considering the many planets you had been to and the numerous men you had seen. You had heard about the sort of person he was, kind and helpful, and you'd seen proof of that in the way he had aided the people of the island multiple times. You found yourself watching him from a distance whenever you saw him either on the streets or in the colonnade. That was kind of a problem because there were a few times he caught you staring and you had to quickly look away, the heat rising in your cheeks at being spotted. Though, you could’ve sworn there were times where you caught him looking your way, too, which only made you even more curious. Though, it was probably just your imagination. There was no way someone like him would be interested in a simple florist woman like you.

The first time you’d gotten to see him up close in person and talk to him, he was out walking with his younger sister, Omega, and their lurca hound. They were passing by and Omega had spotted your stall. She was excited by all the different, exotic blooms you had and wanted to look at them. The way she ran over, her eyes wide with amazement, made you smile.

“I’ve never seen flowers like these before!” she exclaimed, her eyes scanning the many that you had.

“If there are any you want to know about, feel free to ask, young lady,” you said to her. “I’ve gotten several of these from different planets and I can tell you a few fun facts, too.”

That made Omega even more curious. She pointed to an orange, star-shaped flower with a red center. “What is this one?” she asked.

You peeked over to see which particular one she was referring to and then answered, “That’s the Damsel flower. They grow on Endor and here’s an interesting fact about them: they can spray pollen that makes their victims shrink into the size of an insect.”

The kid’s eyes went wide. “No way!” 

“It’s true,” you said with a nod.

Then she pointed to a set of black flowers you had in a vase. “What about these ones?”

“Those are black Fire Lilies,” you told her.

“And these flowers?” 

“Those are Sachi blossoms. I found them on Chandrila and it’s believed that their petals resemble the same shape as canary-moths.”

“Oh wow! Ooh, what about--”

“Omega,” her brother spoke up, stepping closer behind her. “Don’t overwhelm the lady.”

You turned your head to look at him and you chuckled. “I honestly don’t mind. I’m thrilled when I get to share my knowledge of flowers with people, especially children.”

“Well, Omega here definitely loves to learn,” he replied, ruffling her hair and making her snicker. 

It was then Omega spotted another flower and leaned in closer to see it: a set of red flowers in an ornamental vase. “Ooh, what are these?” she asked.

“That’s called Queen’s Heart. They grow around the royal palace on Naboo,” you enlightened her.

As she continued admiring them, she commented, “I love the bright red color.” 

The lurca hound came over, sniffed the flowers and then gave a loud bark with a small hop, seemingly smiling as it wagged its tail. 

“Batcher likes them, too,” Omega added, petting Batcher’s head. Then she looked over her shoulder and said, “Hunter, do you think we can get these for our new house? I think they’d look great!”

He chuckled, putting a hand on his hip. “If that’s what you want, kid. I’m leaving the decorating to you.”

“Yes!” she said with an enthusiastic nod.

You grinned down at the girl. “An excellent choice. How many would you like?”

“I might take just one for now and see if I’ll need more,” she answered.

“Understandable. If you find you want more, you can always find me here,” you told Omega.

After giving them the total for the price, Hunter fished out some credits from a pouch on his belt and handed them to his sister. She gave them to you and you picked up the vase of bright red flowers, placing it gently in her hands. As she took it, she asked you your name and then thanked you after you told her. Then she briskly walked off with Batcher at her heels. 

However, Hunter stayed behind and watched her walk away, a proud grin on his face. “She's been excited about finding things for our new house,” he told you, folding his arms across his chest. 

“You guys are new here, right? Or, at least, you’re now staying on Pabu for good?” you inquired. It was then you happened to notice he was wearing normal civilian clothing instead of his armor like before. Another sign that he was adjusting well to domestic life on the island. Though, he'd kept his signature red bandana, which you figured was a must for his everyday look. Not that you minded. It was a good look on him.

He nodded. “It’s been a long time coming, but yeah…we’re here to stay.” 

“That’s wonderful. Pabu is an amazing place. I think you all will be happy here,” you replied.

A sweet smile directed at you crossed his face and you could feel yourself starting to blush. You shyly brushed a lock of hair behind your ear and turned away, pretending to be examining one of the displays on your stall to hide your reddening face.

“What brought you here?” you heard him ask. 

As you pulled out from a box some clippers and some flowers that needed thorns removed, you answered him while you de-thorned the flowers, “I traveled a lot through the galaxy, searching for all sorts of different and exotic flowers to grow and sell on various planets. In my research of rare flowers, I learned of the blossoms of the weeping maya tree and later discovered that there was one on an island called Pabu. I came here at first to study it and collect the flowers, but found right away that the people here were so incredibly kind and welcoming. It felt like a place I could call home, which was something I hadn’t had in a long time. It didn’t take long for me to decide that I would just settle here and finally pursue being a florist like I always dreamed of.”

“I guess it’s safe to say you really like flowers,” he commented.

You finished getting the thorns off one flower and gave him a nod. “I do. I really do. I’ve been fascinated by them my whole life. Now, I have my own garden full of so many different kinds and I love getting to share them with others.”

“You sell them to people…but has anyone ever bought any for you?” was Hunter’s next question.

You scoffed playfully in response, turning your attention to the thorns on another bloom. “Of course not. Who would buy flowers for the florist?” To you, it was a silly notion, but you thought it was still sweet of him to ask.

There was a brief silence as you worked and you almost wondered if Hunter was still there, but then you heard him ask, “Which one would you recommend? Or rather…which do you like best?”

Hearing that, you put down your clippers and the flower in your hand and looked around for the flower you wanted to mention. Then you came around from inside the stall and motioned to a collection in the front. “I love roses,” you told him. “As much as I love exotic blooms that vary in looks and colors, I'm a bit of a sap for simplicity. I have a few different kinds: Ithorian roses, Jade roses, Tarisian roses….” You trailed off as you came to a group of roses that were so deep red in color that they were almost violet or black. “These are my favorite roses, though. The Malreaux rose,” you said with a wistful smile, your fingertips lightly touching the petals. 

Hunter stepped closer to you to get a better look at the roses. “What can you tell me about them?” 

The combination of him being closer to you than he was a second ago as well as him genuinely wanting to know more about the flowers made your heart skip a beat. “Well...they don't have the greatest history,” you said. “They were developed on the planet, Vjun, by the Malreaux family, who were the richest family on the planet. However…there was a lot of Sith activity there and some very dark things happened, especially involving the Malreaux's, but I won't go too much into that. I just love their color. The rich, deep red is gorgeous.”

“I agree. I think I'll take one of those,” Hunter stated. “How much?”

You told him the amount of credits needed and he pulled them out of his pouch again, placing them on the counter of your stall. After that, he bent over and withdrew one of the deep red roses from the bin, examining it for a moment as he turned it a couple times in his hand. 

A pleased grin crossed his face as he gave a one word remark: “Perfect.” Then Hunter's eyes found yours before he did something that took you by surprise:

He held out the rose to you. 

Dumbfounded, you stood there, looking back between him and the rose, stuttering as you tried to respond. What was he doing? You didn't know what to say. 

Then he smiled kindly and said to you, “You said no one buys flowers for the florist…so then I will.”

You gingerly took the rose from him. “Hunter…I'm speechless. You didn't have to do that.”

“I know. I wanted to,” he replied. 

Flashing you a coy smile, he turned away and left you alone at your flower stall. Your eyes drifted down to the bloom now in your hands. You had held many a flower before, but knowing this one belonged to you and was meant for you as a gesture of kindness felt different and special. Knowing this, you couldn't help but smile.

A couple days passed before you saw him again. He returned to your stall a second time with Omega again and also with his other brothers, Crosshair and Wrecker. He caught your gaze just as you were finishing up with another customer and you felt your breath catch at seeing him. Though, Omega calling your name brought you back to reality.

“Good morning!” she cried out, running over to you. 

“Morning, Omega,” you greeted her. “How are those Queen's Hearts looking at your new house?” 

Excitedly, she informed you, “They look great, just like I knew they would! Though, I think we're going to need more.”

“How many more do you need? I've got a few more available,” you said back.

“Could we maybe get three?” she inquired, holding up three fingers. 

You let out a small chuckle. “Is that why you brought all three of your brothers with you: so they'd all have something to do?”

“Very funny,” Crosshair sarcastically commented with a smirk while Wrecker laughed in amusement. That even got a snicker out of Hunter, too.

With that, Hunter offered you the credits needed for the three vases of Queen's Heart flowers and set them on the counter. You expected to see the three Clone boys grab them, but instead, it was Crosshair, Wrecker and Omega who picked them up. 

“We'll leave you to your other business, Hunter,” said Crosshair.

“Don't take too long,” Wrecker added. “I'm cooking tonight and you know I like to eat right away.”

Hunter rolled his eyes slightly. “Yeah, I know. I'll be on time.”

Both Wrecker and Crosshair and even Omega gave him knowing and what seemed like teasing glances before thanking you and leaving just you and Hunter there. 

“What other business do you have to do?” you asked curiously. 

He turned back to you. “I had my own things I wanted to discuss with you.”

“Me?” 

“I wanted to hear more about your travels through the galaxy and the different flowers you've collected. Whenever you're free to, that is.”

You blinked in surprise. Hunter was actually wanting to spend time with you? Surely, you had to be dreaming…yet you knew you weren’t. Even though you wouldn’t normally close your stall for a while, you knew you couldn’t pass up this opportunity. 

“I’m free now,” you said back. 

You could tell he wasn’t expecting you to make that reply. More than likely, he thought you would say you would be available later. “Are you sure? Don’t you need to run your stall for longer?”

With a snicker, you explained, “That’s one of the perks to running your own business: you can pick and choose your hours.” You pulled out from under the counter a wooden sign that said “Gone on break! Be back soon!” and put it up where people could see it. When you looked back at Hunter, you asked him, “Would you like to take a walk while we talk?” 

“I’d like that,” he said with a grin. As the two of you started walking, he asked his next question: “What is the wildest place you’ve traveled to collect a certain flower?”

You chuckled. “Oh, now that’s quite a story.”

“One, I’d be delighted to hear.”

During your walk, you both got lost in telling each other stories about both your adventures in the galaxy. You regaled him with some fun tales of learning about plant lore on other planets and he told you some of his times during the Clone Wars. You talked as though you had been friends for a long time. With him, you felt comfortable and almost free; like you could be yourself and share anything with him without fear of judgment. There were times you’d see him smiling at you as you talked and it only made you smile more. You felt as though you could’ve talked to him forever.

An hour and a half had passed before you both returned to your flower shop. However, you were just about to thank him for the walk when his commlink started to chirp. Then you heard Wrecker’s chiding voice come through, saying, “Hunter…you’re late.”

Hunter groaned in realization. “I’m on my way,” he responded before putting it away. 

“I guess I kept you too long, didn’t I?” you questioned guiltily.

“It wasn’t you,” he said. “I didn’t keep track of the time. I was enjoying my time with you.” Then he still smiled at you as if nothing was wrong. 

“I enjoyed it, too,” you replied, smiling back.

Then he perked up and declared, “Oh, I almost forgot.” He walked a couple steps over to the bins of Malreaux roses, pulled another one out and proceeded to hand it over to you just like he did the first time. 

“Hunter…,” you said, once again in disbelief at his gesture.

After you took it, he declared as he turned to walk away, “You’ll find the amount of credits needed for the rose included with my payment for the Queen’s Hearts. I hope to see you again soon, (Y/N).”

Once again, he left you alone at your stall with nothing but a red rose in your hands and a smile on your face.

A few days later, you arrived at your little shop early in the morning to get things ready for the day and were pleasantly surprised to see a third singular Malreaux rose on the counter with some credits next to it.

Hunter had come by before you to leave you your favorite flower once again. 

Two times before had been one thing, but now it had happened a third time…which made you begin to wonder. Your thoughts drifted to your knowledge of the flower language, specifically to the meanings behind roses.

Roses of the red variety like the Malreaux rose were usually given as symbols of love, affection and desire.

Did Hunter realize this?

You had said that the Malreaux rose was your favorite flower, after all. Maybe he was just simply continuing to get that one because of that, but there was still something in you that thought maybe it was best if he didn’t. There were other people on the island that knew of the language of flowers, either from you or they already had prior knowledge of it, and if they saw Hunter giving you these flowers that were meant as a sign of affection and that wasn’t his true intention, then rumors could potentially spark from that. You didn’t want to put him in an awkward situation, especially since it was clear sometimes that he wasn’t entirely familiar with how to be a part of a society like here on Pabu, having been a soldier most of his life. More than likely, he was unfamiliar with these kinds of things and was just trying to be friendly.

Though…it would be amazing if he was expressing interest in you…but that was a long shot in your eyes.

Even still…that didn’t stop you from keeping the three roses you’d received from him in their own special little vase at home, one you kept by the front door so you could place the roses inside as you walked in. 

The next time you saw Hunter or were able to get him alone, you would talk to him about it and set the record straight.

As luck would have it, you saw him the next day as you were closing up. It had been a busy day for you, having had to make a few flower crowns for a group of girls. The mayor’s daughter, Lyana, had wanted a party with her friends and you had offered to make all of them flower crowns, Omega included. For you, they were easy to make and took no time at all. Lyana and Omega came to your shop, both of them still wearing their colorful blooms in their hair. Hunter followed not far behind them.

“Thank you so much for the crowns!” Lyana exclaimed happily. “They turned out great!”

“We’ve all gotten a lot of compliments on them today,” added Omega.

You giggled at their excitement. “I’m glad you love them. They look perfect on both of you.”

With a devious smirk, Omega commented to you, “You should make one for Hunter.”

Lyana laughed and Hunter gave Omega a teasing grin as well as a look that said, “Don’t even think about it.”

After chuckling yourself, you responded, “As hilarious as that would be, I’m inclined to think Hunter doesn’t want one.”

“Well, Wrecker definitely does. Will you make one for him then?” asked Omega.

“I can bring one by tomorrow,” you replied, amused at the image of Wrecker wearing a flower crown and already planning out what would look great on him. “Right now, I’m heading home for the evening.”

“Okay. Have a good night,” said Omega as she and Lyana waved you goodbye and ran off in the opposite direction.

Yet again, there was now just you and Hunter.

You pulled your shawl up over your shoulders and you heard Hunter ask you, “May I walk you home?”

Him being so charming certainly wasn’t making things easier for you. You were so crazy about him and you had loved the time you’d already gotten to spend with him before, even if it hadn’t been much. You knew you had to talk to him about the roses, but you didn’t want to yet. 

“You may,” you accepted, thinking that you could have your conversation later.

He grinned at you before gesturing out with his hand and saying, “Lead the way.”

You started to walk away and noticed at first that Hunter wasn’t next to you, but then he suddenly appeared beside you like it took him a second to catch up. Waving that off as just nothing, you were content to just walk with him back to your house.

“The crowns you made were impressive. All the girls loved them,” he told you.

“Thank you,” you said. “I’ve gotten pretty good at making those and I thought it would make their party more fun. I’m happy they enjoyed them.”

“Are there other things you like to do or make with your flowers?” he asked.

You answered, “I like making bouquets or flower arrangements for things like festivals or parties. The usual things like that.”

“Are they hard to make?” 

“Mmm…they were at first, but the more I practiced, the easier they got.”

“I’m glad. I would love to see what you’ve made sometime, if you have any.”

You smiled and blushed at the attention he was giving you. Like always, you convinced yourself he was just being friendly, even though it meant a lot more to you than he knew. “Sure. I’d be happy to show you,” you said back. 

A few minutes passed and you saw your house coming into view. Even though it was a short walk, it still made you sad that your time with Hunter was about to end for the night. You had the thought of maybe inviting him inside for some tea just so you two could continue talking and spending time together, but you figured that might seem too forward. You just didn’t want to say good night yet.

The two of you reached the end of the pathway leading up to your house and you couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that you needed to talk to him now about the roses. Hopefully, this wouldn’t make things too awkward, especially after a nice walk home with him, but it needed to be done.

You turned to face him and you asked him, “Hunter…why have you been giving me all those roses?”

His head tilted, confused. “It’s like I said the first time: you said no one buys flowers for you and I thought you deserved to feel special, so I figured giving you your favorite flower would be nice.”

“Yes, but…do you know the symbolism behind giving someone a red rose?” Your hands fidgeted nervously as you prepared to explain it to him. “Red roses are usually symbols of romantic interest, attraction and affection.”

He looked at you plainly for a moment before he sighed quietly and a content smile crossed his face. “Finally caught on, have you?”

Your head reared back slightly, taken aback. “Wait…you did know?” you asked in disbelief.

His smile only widened as he reached into one of his pockets and withdrew a folded piece of paper that you recognized and held it up for you to see.

“You…you took one of my flower pamphlets?” 

Nodding in affirmation, he explained, “The first time, I simply wanted to give you your favorite flower. Then I took one of the pamphlets when you weren’t looking because I was genuinely curious. It was just a happy coincidence that the kind of flower I wanted to give you to…express my interest and affection happened to be that same flower you liked.” He put the pamphlet back in his pocket, stole a look at your still shocked face and then turned away shyly. “I’m still new to things like this and I wasn’t sure what to say or how to say it, having been used to the language of war for so long…so I thought maybe saying it in a language you understood best would eventually get my point across.” His eyes returned to you, awaiting your response.

Your hand came up to your chest, feeling your rapidly increasing heartbeat beneath your palm. Surely, this couldn’t be happening. “You’ve been romantically interested in me…all this time?”

Hunter smiled ever so sweetly and bowed his head again.

A happy gasp escaped you and your hand pressed even harder over your heart. This was not at all how you thought this conversation was going to go, but you were not complaining at all. This was even better than what you expected. “Hunter, I…I feel the same,” you replied, your lips curving up into a joyful smile. 

That made his own smile widen even more, his expression softened and his eyes lit up in a way that you hadn’t seen before. He took a step closer to you and asked you, “There’s something else I wanted to give you each time I gave you a rose, but was afraid to. May I give it to you now?”

A bit puzzled but no less intrigued, you simply nodded your head.

You were slightly startled when you felt his warm hand take yours. He proceeded to lift it up and your breath hitched when he pressed the back of your hand to his lips, his gaze locked on you the whole time.

“For the first rose,” he said as he lowered your hand, but keeping it in his grasp.

After that, he leaned his head down and placed a soft kiss on your cheek, sending a small shock through your skin.

“For the second,” he said.

His free hand came up to cup your jaw and you couldn’t help but lean into his touch, overwhelmed with joy at what was happening. He tilted his head up and pressed his lips to your forehead, letting them linger a little longer there than he had on your cheek.

“And the third,” he said as he looked back at you.

Then he reached around behind him and, to your great surprise, he pulled out yet another red Malreaux rose that you somehow never noticed he had tucked under his belt. He must’ve snagged it as you both were leaving your shop, which explained why it had taken him a few seconds to appear beside you. Your smile grew and your cheeks hurt a tiny bit from how much you were smiling, but you didn’t care. This was a kind of light pain that you would gladly grow accustomed to. Though, instead of handing it you, Hunter tenderly tucked it behind your ear, letting his hand caress your cheek as it came down. 

Then, looking intently into your eyes, he spoke in a soft voice, “Then this is for the fourth rose.” 

A second later, his lips descended down onto yours, capturing them in a gentle, sweet and affectionate kiss, one better than anything you ever dreamed of. His hand that still held yours let go and wrapped around your waist as you placed your hands on his firm chest and kissed him back. You felt as though it were just the two of you alone on Pabu, sharing this wonderful moment. The way his arms fit around you and your bodies seemed to fit together like matching puzzle pieces felt more than right; it felt like you were destined to be together.

It felt perfect.

When he reluctantly pulled away, he said to you, his voice a gravelly whisper, “I know we still don’t know each other very well, but I would like for that to change. I want to know you, (Y/N). I want to know everything about you and the things that make you happy. I want to listen to you tell me about every flower you know of, the meaning behind each one and see how your eyes light up when you talk about your passion. I want to make you just as happy and smile just as much…if you’ll have me.”

“I would love nothing more,” you said back almost right away. “I want to know you, too, and I’ve wanted that so much since you first came to Pabu. I hope I can make you as happy as you’ve already made me with the roses alone.” Then you took the initiative this time by taking his face in your hands and bringing him down just a little to kiss him again, feeling him smiling against your lips. After a few seconds, you pulled back and inquired, “Would you like to come in? I don’t want to say good night yet. I can make us some tea and we can spend more of the evening together, just the two of us. I can even show you my flower garden out back, too, if you’d like.”

“I’d like that very much,” he replied. 

You tightly grasped his hand and led him along the path leading to your front door. You pushed it open and brought him inside your warm and inviting home, your other hand lightly tracing the petals of the other three roses Hunter had given you sitting in the vase by your door.

Being a florist had always been your dream and you had achieved that a long time ago. Since then, your new dream had been a relationship with Hunter and that was now coming true. 

You had thought your life was already perfect…but now, with Hunter in your life, it most certainly was.