#I mean I alway paint his mother being a single mother

[mitsuki91]

Random but: no one else had this headcanon that Xenophilius Lovegood is the "secret" son of Abraxas Malfoy? Half brother with Lucius? No? Only me?

[slttygeto]

HUSBAND SUGURU! + PREGNANCY ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

tags: fem! reader, husband suguru!, nsfw, suguru is very hesitant about being a dad, but isnt forced into this :), reader is very motherly, dirty talk and talk about getting off the pill and being bred.

word count: 2,1k

Husband Suguru! whom before you even got married, sat you down and mentioned to you how starting a family wasn’t something he was looking forward to. you know of his past, of the trauma he’s been through. he fully expects you to break up with him when he tells you that, knows how much you want to have a baby of your own, but you don’t. instead, you cradle him in your arms and tell him that you love him and appreciate what you have right now, not what you don’t even see in the picture.

Husband Suguru! who swears he hasn’t changed his mind about babies, about starting a family in general even three years into the marriage. but when he sees you with your friend’s baby, the glow on your face, the motherly instinct—how you gently place your hand on the baby’s head, rock her back and forth and coo at her softly while her mother gets her food ready, his heart feels as though it is about to explode.

“There there baby girl,” your voice is barely above a whisper, and when the baby cries, your lip juts out and you pull the infant towards your chest in an attempt at soothing her. your eyes find his where he is sitting on the couch, and the lighthearted chuckle you give him pulls a nervous one out of his body. you are now convinced that your husband would never ever change his mind based on the horror painting his features as he turns to your friend’s husband to strike a conversation. but in reality, the topic of their conversation is all too surprising.

“Has it been difficult? You know, managing a career and taking care of the baby,”

“Oh yeah very,” the other man admits but Suguru doesn’t detect a single hint of regret in his voice. “but yknow, look at that,” he point his glass of water in the direction of his wife and you holding the baby. “seeing my wife with our baby, our creation—seeing her act all motherly like that? Totally worth it.”

Husband Suguru! who starts to consider the idea of getting you pregnant. he hopes for the rational part of his brain to win over, rather than the horny, disgustingly perverted one. but when you walk out of the shower in a crop top, his mind drifts elsewhere—and suddenly, the image of your belly swollen with his kids floods his mind and he has to put a pillow on his crotch to hide the very evident bulge in his pants.

Husband Suguru! who once he calms down and takes care of his raging boner, texts Satoru in a hurry, asking if they could meet up tomorrow morning. your husband tells you of his plans and you hum sleepily, telling him how catching up with his best friend seems like a good idea. Suguru drops the bomb on his best friend the moment they sit down and the ivory haired’s jaw almost meets the floor.

“You mean you wanna be a dad?”

“I’m not…too sure,” Suguru looks conflicted, he is holding his head in his hands. he knows very well that this is a topic that should be discussed with you, since you were the other person of interest in the situation. but he would hate to give you false hope, he’s seen the way your eyes light up at the mention of a baby, at one of your friends or colleagues being pregnant, how there’s a disappointed look on your face that you try so hard to conceal when Suguru gives you a face in response of a pregnancy announcement. but you are so patient, so accepting, you’ve never once forced him into anything. and truth be told, he wanted to see what kind of mother you would be to your baby—and then toddler, and then teenager and adult—you’d have a life together with a new person who would adapt either your personality or his, with a face of the love of his life. your baby could have your eyes and nose, he’s always pointed them out—even before you started dating.

“Dude, do you or do you not want to have a baby?”

“I don’t know man, it’s hard to think of.”

“Because you are thinking too hard about it,” Satoru says nonchalantly and it irks Suguru a little.

“I am not thinking too hard about it—this is a new responsibility, what if I am not fit to be a dad? I could be a failure for all we know—what if I pussy out of it and—“

“I would kill you.” Satoru warns the man and Suguru doesn’t try to hide how he stiffens up. “I am not joking, I would find you and bring you back to her as a sack of bones,”

“I wouldn’t betray her like that…”

“You’re too focused on the aspect of being a bad dad rather than a good one—yknow, you really think that she’d marry someone she doesn’t see fit as the future father of her children?” Satoru has a point. you did mention to him once (when Suguru was nowhere to be seen at a party you all attended) how falling in love with him was the best thing that’s ever happened to you, but the one thing that would top it is if he became a father to your children. Satoru, knowing his best friend’s stance on the topic, reminded you of how terrified the man was of the idea and all you did was give him a reassuring, understanding wave of your hands.

“I know, but I just know he’d love them hard and make them feel as safe as he makes me feel.”

Husband Suguru! who doesn’t really try to bring up the topic of ‘trying for a baby’. he cringes at the thought, feels as though it makes the process less romantic and intimate and more of a robotic task. as he is stripping you of your clothes, he is silent and lets his eyes wander over your figure. you are extremely shy tonight, unable to meet his eyes as his rough, calloused hands brush over the skin of your boobs before bending down to be at eye level with them. he brings the flesh inside his mouth and sucks—and blood rushes down to his groin at the thought of them being filled with milk, heavy and swollen, more sensitive than usual. his teeth graze the skin at an attempt to catch your attention and your thighs squeeze as you meet his eyes.

“Sugu…” your smaller hands rest on his face as he pulls away from your boobs to plant a heated kiss to your lips, effectively pushing you back on the bed. your back gently hits the mattress, and your chest is heaving in anticipation, unsure of what his next move would be.

“Baby,” he finally speaks up, nose brushing against your stomach as he brings his lips to the skin. “how about you drop the pill tomorrow?” he knows how much of a horrible job he is doing at this, but he feels you move, supporting yourself on your elbows.

“w-why would I do that?” your eyebrows are furrowed in confusion, and Suguru wishes to brush his thumb over the tense skin of your forehead.

Suguru is shameless as he kisses further south, planting his kiss above the tuft of your pubic hair before pushing your panties to the side. He parts the lips and gives your clit a kiss before moving to your inner thighs.

“why not? It’s doing horrible things to your body—“ he brushes his nose over your clit as he speaks. “beside, we need you off the pill if we want a baby, don’t you think?” when you don’t react to his words, Suguru looks up only to find you staring down at him with parted lips and eyes glossed over with tears.

“…are you sure?” you ask softly, and your husband swears he could never say no to you if you asked like that all the time.

“very,”

Husband Suguru! who fucks you with a new purpose. each drive of his hips fueling the other to go harder, deeper, to keep pushing his cum inside you and plant his seed deep within. your cunt does a great job at showing Suguru how ecstatic and excited you are with his sudden change of heart. you keep squeezing around him, barely able to keep your sounds in—he fucks you so deeply that the sound of skin to skin is louder than your moans and his groans. when he puts you on all fours, the cum starts to drip out of you but he pushes it back in with two thick fingers, lips pressed to your ass cheek.

“want more?”

“mmm! please,” you whine when he aligns his tips with your folds and fixes your arch with a hand on the small of your back. the gasp that escapes your lips when he fucks into you hard makes Suguru chuckle and he rubs your sides, soothing you.

“no need to beg for it,” he leans down and presses a kiss to your nape. “I’d gladly fill you up.”

Husband Suguru! who stiffens up when you show him the positive pregnancy test. up until this point, he is in control of his emotions—he lets you cry in his arms about how scary all of this was, despite you saying you’ve always wanted a baby. he is supportive, understanding of the heightened emotions that you are experiencing—when he sees your tears turn into happy ones, only half of him is able to relax. clearly, he is nervous but he doesn’t wanna show it. not right now.

The first ultrasound during your pregnancy was nerve racking—your hand squeezed your husband’s as you stared at the screen showing what appeared to be your unborn baby. Very tiny, but still there.

“Okay mom and dad,” the doctor presses the ultrasound transducer a bit lower on your stomach, a small smile on his face. “I got some news for you.”

“Good?” your anxious voice has Suguru rubbing his thumb on the back on your hand.

“It depends, how long have you been trying for this baby?” You couldn’t exactly disclose of your very active sex life, but you do give the doctor hints that it was definitely wanted.

“Well, look over here—“ he points to the screen with his gloved finger, ushering Suguru to come closer. “Look over here dad, what do you see?”

Suguru swallows hard as he stares at the screen in confusion, unsure of what to say. “..a baby?”

“Babies. Congratulations, you’re pregnant with twins.”

Your husband whips his head towards you fast, and you cover your mouth in shock. This wasn’t planned—twins? And for a first time? You didn’t know if the tears streaming down your face were of excitement or fear that maybe you weren’t ready for this.

But Suguru still comforts you, holds you in his arms—tells you that maybe finding out the gender won’t make all of this sound scary anymore. He knew you never really had a preference for gender—you were a natural mom.

However, finding out the gender was an emotional experience for the same man who never thought he would become a father.

Husband Suguru! who tells Satoru to buy the gender reveal cake for you two. he doesn’t want to throw a party, and neither do you. finding out within the privacy of your own home seemed like the best option—you didn’t want to reveal that you were pregnant to any family members—at least not yet.

“Are you ready?” You hold your own glass as you wait for your husband to stand next to you. Your bump wasn’t that evident yet, but signs of pregnancy were starting to show on your body and it brought this warm feeling to Suguru’s body.

“Yeah, hold my hand.” You chuckle slightly at his request but comply either way. Each of you holds their own glass above the cake before looking away as you push it down—you hold your breath, Suguru rests his forehead on your shoulder as he mumbles something about not being able to look at the cake. But you muster up the courage and lift your glass, eyes wide and lips parted in shock.

“Sugu—“ you don’t need to tell him to look, he was already staring at the glass with teary eyes. The pink frosting wasn’t something he was expecting to see—he knew he was going to be happy with either but two little girls? His own baby girls—the thought of being a girl dad brings tears to his eyes and you’re quickly pulling him towards you.

“Oh baby,” you hold back your own tears as you comfort your emotional husband, his arms wrapped around your middle. You hear little sniffles and a hand rubs your back before feeling a pair of lips pressed to your forehead.

“Gonna be the prettiest mom to the prettiest girls. Ever.”   

note: my posts are all self indulgent at this point… enjoy :D

2023: all works belong to @ slttygeto. do not repost my works on any other platofrm.

[writingroom21]

Hey boo, this is the anon who gave u the idea of the locked room one-shot thank you for writing it ❤️

I was wondering if you can write a one-shot like the reader is a daycare worker🤪 (her age is like 18-19) (I think you spoke about yourself working with children) and she looks after Rafes son named Felix or whatever u wanna name him and he is really clingy with the reader never lets go off her and gets jealous easily (Felix thinks of the reader as his mother since his birth mom left him after she gave birth) and he draws a painting of him, rafe, and reader. Rage doesn't know who reader is so Felix explains reader to him rafe falls in love and invites reader to babysit him paying her more than her daycare job and obviously there is smut❤️

Playing House

Warnings: 18+, smut, age gap (Rafe is 32 and reader is 20), p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it up), cream pie, breeding kink, (let me know if I missed any!)

Wc: 4.1K

This is a two in one request with this one

A/N: hey Anon! I just have to say loving the requests. Your brain is like amazing. Keep them coming

Being a single dad at 29 was not on Rafe’s bingo card.

When the girl he was regularly hooking up with sent him the positive pregnancy test he laughed at the image. There was no way she was being serious. SUre he didn’t like to use condoms but he pulled out and she said she was on birth control. There was no way in hell that she was actually pregnant.

Then she sent him a sonogram picture with her holding it up in the doctor's office. He was honestly fucked. At first he tried to play it off like it wasn’t his. Saying she must have been sleeping with others. But when she didn’t protest a paternity test he started to think she was telling the truth. Then nine months flew by and his baby boy was born. The moment he laid eyes on him he knew that was his son. The paternity test just confirms it.

It only took a week for her to run off leaving a note saying she wasn’t ready to be a mom. As if he was ready to be a dad. It took a lot of trial and error to get into a routine. He wanted to rip his hair out everytime he woke up in the middle of the night due to crying. But once again he would look in his eyes and he couldn’t. He’s learned a lot from being a father over the last three years.

He’s become more patient with others which is completely different from who he used to be. Not to mention he seems to actually have a heart. The mean old Rafe Cameron is now a gentle dad. But don’t get him wrong, he would fuck up anyone who messed with his son. That’s why he was worried when he was forced to put Felix in daycare shortly after his third birthday. 

Rafe got lucky having two younger sisters who were willing to watch him along with friends. But over time it became impractical to rely on them to watch Felix. They all had their own lives and couldn’t spend hours on end with the child. That led to Rafe signing him up at Happy Bee’s, one of the best daycares in Kildare. That’s where Felix has been spending his days for almost a year. It seems to be doing good for him. Felix seems to have friends that he wouldn’t stop blabbering about. But then one person always on the little boy's mind is you.

If Rafe has to hear about you one more time he might bash his head into a wall. 

“Daddy wook! Miss help me.” That’s what Felix calls you, Miss. Maybe that’s what you had the kids call you or maybe Felix just doesn’t like saying your name. Everything is always Miss this or Miss that. The other day Felix refused to eat his veggies, making a disgusted face. “C’mon bud you gotta eat them.” Rafe’s trying to shovel them into his mouth but Felix moves his head. “No. Miss doesn’t make me.” Rafe’s eye twitches at the mention of your nickname. “Well I’m not Miss, I’m dad. Which means what I say go’s, now eat your veggies.” 

For ten months Rafe has heard how you don’t make him do this or you let him do that. He honestly had enough after Feliz threw a tantrum so he didn’t have to go to bed. The following day he went into the center ready to have Felix switched to another worker. But as he was waiting for the director to talk to him he watched as you interacted with the kids. They all seemed to love you, hanging on to every word you said.

Then there was his little boy.

Felix clung to you like velcro. Wherever you went he followed close behind, holding on the back of your shirt. Not once did you get mad or pull him off of you. In fact you got the kids sentled with ease like it was second nature. In his 32 years of life he has never seen someone be so natural with kids. What really got him was seeing you read to Felix. His baby boy was curled in your lap with your arms wrapped around him. If he didn’t know any better it would look like a mother with her son.

He just watches as Felix babbles to you and you can’t help but seem excited. You effortlessly make him laugh and it’s mesmerizing. “Mr. Cameron. You wanted to see me.” The director is standing in front of him now but he keeps staring at you. “Actually I changed my mind. I’ll see you at pick up.” With that he got up and walked out the building with a sense of determination.

At pick up he waited until all of the kids were gone before going to get Felix. “Hi sorry my meeting ran late.” He apologizes to you, liking the way you smile up at him. “Hey buddy, how was your day?” Felix jumps in his arms, giving him a big hug before looking at you. “Made drawings.” Rafe looks at you with an amused look which you match. “He was a real picasso. You should be proud, you got a good one.” 

Your voice is soft, making you seem more approachable. “I’m Rafe. Don’t think we’ve really met.” You shake his hand telling him your name. “I was actually wondering something.” Rafe examines your features waiting to see your reaction. “Is everything all right Mr. Cameron?” Your eyes stare up at him and they look so innocent. You have to be young, if he’s guessing maybe 19 or 20. 

“Yeah but I wanted to offer you a better position. Come work for me. Felix is obsessed with you and I think you’d be good for him.” You’re taken back by his request. “I’m sorry Mr. Cameron but I can’t just leave my job.” The next excuse is ready to fly out of your mouth but it stops when you hear his voice. “Rafe, call me Rafe. I’ll triple your pay and you can move into the guest bedroom.”

Triple pay and a free room? This is a great deal and you don’t know if you should turn it down. You do need the money as you help your parents with your younger siblings. Not to mention you really love Felix. The boy is like your shadow and you’ve grown fond of him. His little eyes stare at you as if he’s waiting for your answer as well. His blue eyes are a perfect match to his fathers. But you think Rafe has specks of gold in them, making them even more beautiful.

“Why me?” Rafe shifts Felix to the other side of him. “He won’t stop talking about you. I want the best care for him. You wouldn’t be able to do that while watching other kids, so here’s my solution.” Lie. He wants to see you in his house. He wants to come home to see you playing with his son, greeting him from his long day of work. The more he thinks about it the more he believes this is for himself. Looking at you he knows this is for himself more than Felix.

“Okay.”

♡♡♡♡♡

You’ve been working for Rafe for seven months now. If you are being honest it’s really great. Felix is super chill so you get to just have fun all of the time. The pay is amazing, even after you talked him into paying you normally. The house is fancy and you get to experience what the kook life feels like. Overall you would say things were great. But there was one issue you really haven't grasped.

Rafe is fucking hot.

Not any normal type of hot but DILF I’d make him a dad again kind of hot. You can’t tell if it’s a pro or con of the job. Usually you would say it was a pro because you got to see him everyday. But the downside is he’s your boss who probably looks at you like a kid. It’s not like you are. You’re 20. He’s only twelve years older than you, that shouldn’t be a problem. But you guess it wouldn’t be professional and you need the job.

It’s not like he makes it easy on you. Every morning he goes on a run coming back with his shirt off, wiping the sweat off his forehead. Then he likes to make his way over to the kitchen where you are to chug water as he asks you what the plans of the day are. You can’t count how many times your eyes drifted to his abs or how many times you lost your train of thought. He always sends you a wink before heading off to shower. Leaving you in the kitchen trying to stop yourself from following him.

Then there’s the time where he walked around the house in the tightest pair of briefs. The outline of his dick prominent as he passed you. You almost fell to your knees right then and there. There have been little moments where you catch him staring at you or checking you out. To be fair you started to dress nicer, noticing he likes it when you do. This even led to small touches.

It started with a hand on your lower back when he passed by. Everytime his fingers would find a way to lift your shirt slightly. Until one day his hand was just touching your bare back, sending shockwaves through your system. It’s like every chance he gets his hands have to be on you. Not to mention the gifts he’s been giving you.

He had come home one day after going into the office with a box of chocolates. You gushed how they were your favorite and now they magically appear in your room every week. Then there’s the shopping sprees. For the past two weeks he’s been bringing you to the main land on Saturday’s under the pretense of getting this for Felix. But as you are shopping around you end up in some of your favorite stores. As if he doesn’t do enough for you, he encourages you to get whatever you want. Rafe just swipes his card not even caring what the total was. You were being spoiled in every way.

The attention has been getting to your head. It makes you feel special thinking that he cares about you. It also doesn’t help when he doesn’t correct people when they think the three of you are a family. 

You were rummaging through Felix’s bag trying to find the snacks that he likes. He’s been getting fidgety and maybe a snack would help keep him occupied. “Don’t worry about it. We can just go to the restaurant down the street. He gets food and time to relax.” You let out a sigh feeling bad that you may have forgotten to pack the snacks. “I swore I packed them before we left.”

You keep moving things around hoping they’ll pop up. “Daddy, eat.” Felix’s little voice grapes your attention. Giving up, you sling the bag over your shoulder again. Rafe picks him up, kissing the top of his head as he throws an arm around your shoulder. “I know bud. We’re going to go eat right now, right?” He looks at you so you could agree. Nodding your head you tickle Felix, kissing the hand he tries to use to push you away. His laugh is contagious, making the two of you let out your own. “Let’s get some food into that tummy, little man.” The three of you were wrapped up in your own world you didn’t see the lady watching.

“You have a beautiful family. You must be very proud.” She has a soft smile, eyes filled with joy as she watches you. Rafe responds before you can correct her mistake. “Thank you. I couldn’t be happier.”

Ever since then there’s been an energy around the two of you. It’s like the wall you two kept up were starting to crumble. Rafe was constantly texting you when he was actually in the office instead of working from home. Letting you know that he missed you and Felix or saying he can’t wait to go home to the two of you. Every message made you feel butterflies that didn’t help you stay neutral. You really hit your breaking point three days away. 

Rafe had worked late today and Felix was already in bed. When you put him to bed he was already half asleep. But when you were closing the door you heard him call out to you. “Night mommy. Love you.” You had been thinking over the words when Rafe got home. He had found you in the kitchen, leaning over the counter with your back to him as you ate ice cream. “Hey. Sorry the meeting ran late so everything was pushed back.” He loosens up his tie, taking it off expecting you to answer but you don't.

He walks up behind you, his hands finding your hips. “What’s wrong baby?” The close proximity would normally send tingles down your spine but it isn’t. “Felix called me mom today.” Rafe freezes behind you for a second. He knew that his son loved you but he didn’t realize how deep that love actually went. It’s honestly not like he didn’t see it coming. The three of you have been practically playing the part of a family since you started.

He leans his head on your shoulder and kisses it. The action a new addition to the others he’s picked up over the months. “Well you’ve been a big part of his life, our lives. He wouldn’t be wrong to see you that way.” You turned in his arms staring up into his eyes. “He wouldn’t?” Rafe places his forehead on yours, brushing your nose with his. “No baby he wouldn’t. But how does it make you feel?” His eyes are closed, enjoying being this close to you. His hands are squeezing your hips, fingers spreading themselves under your shirt. “I guess it made me happy and confused. I just don’t want to hurt him.”

Your hands move their way up his arms, finding his shoulders before the hair at the nape of his neck. This is the closest the two of you have been. It doesn’t feel like a boss with their employee anymore. “We won’t.” That’s all he says to you before he’s kissing you with an intensity you’ve never seen. His lips are crashing onto yours, emotions spilling from him to you. The kiss is making your head spin so much you didn’t even realize he had lifted you to the counter.

He slots himself between your thighs, slowly moving his hips into yours. The friction makes you through your head back giving him the chance to kiss the exposed skiing of your neck. Then as if the world was playing some cruel joke it all went away. “Daddy!” Felix’s voice echoes through the halls. Rafe pulls away, his head resting on your chest as you two catch your breath. “He must’ve had a nightmare again.” He places a kiss to your skin detaching himself to go check on the boy. “I’ll go make sure he’s okay.” His right hand grabs the back of your neck and brings you in for one last kiss before heading out of the room. 

That was the last time you got to be with him alone.

The next morning you woke up happier than usual. Only for you to get downstairs and see a suitcase by the door. Making your way to the kitchen you see Rafe already having breakfast with Felix. “Hey.” The two boys look at you and smile. They have the same exact one making your heart ache a little. “Daddy’s leaving.” You give Felix a sad/shocked face before turning to look at Rafe. “Oh he is?” Rafe’s eyes deflect from yours, feeling as if he was under inspection. “Yeah, just for a couple of days. They called me this morning and I can’t pass up this deal.” You just nodded, grabbing the extra prepared plate to eat yourself. 

“Well I guess it’s just you and me, little man.” The rest of breakfast was awkward. Rafe was trying to talk to you but you only focused on Felix. Then after Rafe said his goodbyes. “Bye buddy I’ll see you when I get back.” Felix hugged him tight before running off, leaving the two of you alone. “I swear I didn’t know about this last night.” You crossed your arms. “It’s fine I get it.” Rafe winces at your tone, not liking how it didn’t sound like you. 

He grabbed your waist pulling you closer. “Promise when I get back I’ll make it up to you. Take care of our boy. I’ll see you in a few days.” He pecked your lips before getting his bag and leaving. Our boy. You may be sad that he’s leaving you for a few days but how can you be upset? He just implied Felix was your boy and you couldn’t be happier. Guess you’ll just have to wait for him.

Today has been a long day. Felix had cried all day asking for his daddy, wanting to seek comfort in Rafe. You were woken up to the choked sobs of Felix telling you he didn’t feel good before throwing up everywhere. The day was spent cleaning your room as Felix sleeps in your bed. Every few hours you took his temperature to see that it was still normal but slightly raised. Rafe didn’t seem too concerned saying he may have eaten something that upset his stomach.

By the time it hit nine both of you were both knocked out in your bed. The tv plays an episode of Bluey, the background noise easing you two into a deep sleep. The front door opens, Rafe lugging his things in. “I’m home.” Rafe looks around to see no lights on besides the night lights for Felix. He checks Felix’s room only to see no one in there. The next room he checks is his. Sometimes Felix will sneak into his room and cuddle him to fall back asleep. He expected to see him there but when he didn’t he started to panic. Rushing to your room, he swings the door open, freezing when it does.

There you were with his baby boy, holding him to your side as you both slept. His heart rate races as he watches the two of you. Quickly he gets ready for the night, taking a shower and getting dressed. Slowly he makes his way back to your room and slots himself on the other side of the sleepy boy. For a few minutes he convinces himself this is how it always was. You, him and Felix.

In the morning when you woke up, you stretched in bed noticing that a certain someone was missing. You shoot up from the bed worried that Felix may have gotten out. In your groggy state you see a tall figure walking into your room. Now you're scared someone broke in. “Easy there. I got my sister to watch Felix since he was feeling better.” You rub your eyes trying to see if you are dreaming. “Rafe? What are you doing here?” He pushes you back to the bed and sets a plate on the table next to you.

“Taking care of you.” He kisses your check. “Thank you for taking care of him.” His lips skid across your skin, kissing the corner of your mouth. “Did you mean it?” He pulls back to look at you. “Huh?” You avert your eyes, scared of what the answer might be. “The other night when you said Felix wouldn’t be wrong for calling me mom.” The corner of his mouth lifts, a hand cupping your check. “Yeah baby I meant it.”

You crush your lips to his, throwing all caution to the wind. He meets you with the same fever. The kiss is different from the one in the kitchen. It feels like there isn’t a rush, just an excitement to explore each other. Which is exactly what Rafe wants to do. He pushes you back, his lips making their way to every inch of your skin. A moan slips your lips when he finds the sweet spot on your neck. 

Before you know it your sleep shirt is on the floor, his own following along. “God you’re fucking beautiful.” You blush under his gaze, hands pulling down his pants. Rafe’s lips move lower, placing sloppy kisses over your chest. Sucking a nipple into his mouth, he takes your shorts off. His middle finger slips through your folds feeling how wet you are. An involuntary moan leaves his throat. “Who’s making you this wet baby?” You squirm under him, squeezing his finger as it glides into you. When you don’t say anything he pulls away. 

The hand that was just in you grabs your face forcing you to look at him. “Answer me.” Your eyes snap open, meeting his blue ones. “You, Rafe.” He smirks at you, lowering himself once again. As he’s face to face with your pussy he smirks up at you. “That’s right baby. Don’t forget it.” His lips wrap around your clit sucking hard as he moves his hand to pump his fingers in you. His fingers are long and thick. Everytime they pump back into you, they curl hitting your g-spot. 

It didn’t take long until you were pushed over the edge. Your legs trembled locking around his head. His left arm wraps around your hips, keeping you in place as he keeps devouring you. Even though you are over stimulated he keeps going until another orgasim is rushing through you. When he finally came up for air you were laid out on the bed catching your breath. He kisses up your stomach until he reaches your lips. “How you feeling?” You kiss him again, taking a hold of his dick to line him up. “Really good.” You tease his tip, rubbing it up and down your slit. Impatiently he pushes in, groaning at the feeling of you wrapped around him.

He gives you a moment to adjust before moving his hips. Slowly he rocks his hips back and forth. The feeling is overwhelming. If you thought his fingers were thick, having him inside you was a different feeling. Rafe takes a hold of your right leg, lifting it over his shoulder as the other rests on his hips. From this angle he feels more intense. “Rafe, so good.” His forehead rests on your shoulder, hips rocking into yours. His pelvis hitting your clit each time. “Fuck if you keep talking like that I’m going to fill you up.” You clench around him, liking the thought more than you’ll like to admit. 

He bites your shoulder holding back a moan. “You’d like that wouldn’t you? Want me to fill you up baby?” You moan, the leg around his hip pulling him closer. Nodding your head you moan. “Yeah. I need it.” You wined out. His hands tightly gripping your shoulders using it to pull you onto him. “Don’t worry baby, I’ll fill you.” One of his hands moves down to your stomach, sprawling his finger out.

“Maybe I’ll fuck a baby into you. Make you a mom and give Felix a sibling.” You let out a loud moan at his words. Nail markers litter his back as you keep clawing at it to keep yourself grounded. “Please.” He keeps fucking you but his movements are starting to stutter. His hips lose their movement as he starts to reach his peak. “Please what? Say it and I’ll give it to you.” Your mouth gaps open, sucking in air as you feel like you're suffocating. “Say it. I need you to say it.”

The tone of his voice breaks you. “Fill me please. I want you to fuck a baby in me.” His eyes meet yours. “Please Rafe.” His mouth drops open, a moan escaping. “Ah fuck.” The warmth of his cum filling you triggers your third orgasim of the night. The two of you come down, holding each other. A few minutes go by and he finally detaches himself from you. Laying next to you Rafe turns to look at you. “You know I think we may need to do that again.” He leans over you to peck your lips. “Oh yeah?” You giggle. He nods, kissing you again. 

“Don’t think it worked. Gonna have to fill you until we know it did.”

[r0ttenhearts]

wasted on you

idol! scaramouche x reader

sypnosis: after an argument with scaramouche he has to perform for a show. the show must go on, despite his mind being anywhere but the present

warnings: angst, arguments, no comfort

“scara, we’re on in 5!”

“i know, i know. just give me a minute.”

scaramouche fumbled with his phone, typing a hasty response and sending it to you. it had only been a few hours since you last spoke, or fought. your angry voice still ringing in his ears, the harsh words left between you two as he left you there. alone.

it was eating at him, the way you looked so defeated. so done.

but you’d still show up for his show, right? you never missed one. even after bickering with him you’d always show. that smile on your face as he met you backstage after every show, embracing you while you praised him for a job well done.

he hoped that would be the case as he stood next to his friends, ready to perform that tedious dance routine heizou had choreographed for the group. painted nails adjusted his mic, a wide smile plastered on his face as he moved with his friends in sync.

his dark eyes scanned the crowd, looking for your usual spot he’d get you tickets for. the memory made him smile, your complaints of not getting the best view when he’d given you a different spot.

his smile faltered for a moment before perking back up as he realized you weren’t there. that comforting presence he’d always find when he felt the most nervous about his ability to perform wasn’t there. the one person he wanted to watch him wasn’t there.

“if you’re going to keep whining why don’t you just leave?”

“do you mean that scara?”

“i can’t even bother to look at your face right now. archons, don’t you see how lucky you are to have me? i could have anyone but i chose you.”

“maybe i shouldn’t have.”

his blood ran cold, recalling his words to you. he hadn’t meant it. he only said it in the moment because he was so angry. so angry about you pestering him. so what if your third year anniversary was on the same day of the concert? you knew how important it was to him, right?

more important than your relationship.

the rest of the concert droned on. he felt like a zombie, the same strenuously practiced choreography being repeated once more to a crowd of thousands of fans. the same songs he’d practiced with the group leaving his lips until they left the stage, heading back to their dressing rooms backstage.

he hoped, prayed, that you’d be there, sitting in his chair and ready to give him a hug. but you weren’t. he was greeted with nothing but an empty room, his makeup on the dresser left the way he had abandoned it. scara swallowed thickly as he pulled out his phone, opening your chat. his heart dropped seeing the “delivered” notification missing.

a dry laugh escaped his lips, almost collapsing at his dresser chair. his fingers tapping on his screen harshly.

scara: (y/n)? did you really block me

scara: this isn’t funny

scara: don’t be like this please.

scara: i didn’t mean it, you know that

he could feel a lump well up in his throat as the “not delivered” notification popped up. his phone was just acting up, right? you didn’t leave him. you couldn’t have. you promised him you’d always be there for him, especially after his mother left him.

it seemed cruel, the way he checked all of his social media accounts to see that you had blocked him on every single one. your bio now missing a ring emoji that you both once had on your profile.

tears welled up in his eyes, fist slamming on his dresser as he thought back to the argument. the very thing that had led to this.

to say he had been stressed was an understatement. with both the concert and your anniversary coming up he was faced with the decision to pick between the two. it almost seemed too easy, but he couldn’t forget the way your face fell as he told you he was still planning to attend to the performance.

you understood, didn’t you? perfect little (y/n) always waiting for him. watching him as he played out his part in the career he enjoyed. he could make it up to you after the concert, anyway. your anniversaries would always come again, but he couldn’t leave his friends high and dry for some relationship.

they needed him! it wasn’t even a question when it came to the two.

but if you knew that, why were you so angry? why did you shout at him that you wanted him to pick you instead?

“i’m sick of this, scara! i want to feel important to you! i don’t want to come second to none for the things you care about!”

“what are you bitching about now? you say this like we haven’t already done something for the other two. stop whining.”

the angry tears in your eyes as you shoved him was not something he was used to seeing. he didn’t think you’d be so upset at the news. even through your anger, your silence scared him more.

“i just thought.. i mattered to you, scara. i guess after three years i still don’t get the memo..”

“don’t be stupid (y/n). if you behave after we can do whatever you want for this stupid anniversary. you’d like that, wouldn’t you? you’re like a dog. threatening to bite but wagging your tail if i give you a crumb of a promise. it’s pathetic, really.”

“i didn’t mean it, i didn’t mean it.” he whispered to himself, eyes glued to your profile that now had him blocked.

“i wish you wouldn’t—“

“are you gonna keep bitching?”

that was the last night he saw you, the last night he ever called you his. he sat alone in that dressing room, his red eyeliner smeared as he cried into his hands. it wasn’t like him at all. he hadn’t realized how much he needed that bond, that intimacy he craved as he’d been lacking in it since he was a child.

maybe then he’d learn to cherish the things he had, before he pushed them away. he’s made a nasty habit of that, hasn’t he?

a/n: i got the idea to throw this together after the ask from @magica-ren so thank you!

part II

taglist: @samarill @sakiimeo @astrolomona @dearsumire @saeism @shoheartluv @0kauy @lelemnh @ayameei @aqualesha @msdevilis

[wittlesissyb4by]

Babydoll

He thought it was what he wanted, he really did. Ever since Christian was little, he enjoyed playing with dolls. Not so much because he liked to do what girls do–well, he did–but more that he wanted to be the doll. They got to wear pretty dresses and have their long blonde hair put into bows, their cutesy shoes switched out, and they got to be pampered and adored by someone else.

Speaking of pampered, Christian seemed to always gravitate towards the dolls that needed diapers. The ones that would squirt fake wets and messes so he could change them. He remembered begging his Mother for those toys.

His Mother knew that Christian would most likely not grow up to be a very strong, masculine boy. She knew her son was not like the others, he’d taken far too much interest in all things feminine, but she also never saw anything wrong with that. She would oblige him if he asked her to paint his nails, or put make-up on him, or make his hair curly. She thought it would be a phase, something he’d grow out of when he got to high school.

But college came and went and Christian was still living in her basement. She could hear him at night, making loud, pathetic mewling sounds. Watching god knows what on the internet and doing god knows what to himself. She found countless diapers in the trashcan that Christian did a pisspoor job of hiding. When a bra or panty set went missing, she knew the first place to look was in Christian’s room tucked into the back of his closet. She never said anything, though. She let her boy partake in his little fantasies and work himself raw. She’d change his sheets that only had a hint of piss soaked into them, as if most of it ended up somewhere else and this was only what leaked out when a certain item had reached capacity.

Christian had spent most of his life jerking off to sissy and abdl and feminization porn. He’d watched countless hypnos that made his brain rot, he even put his own penis in a cage sometimes and learned to cum like a ‘gurl’. But all of that was only when he was in the throes of hornydom. He’d dream of being a pretty little doll for someone, to get put in diapers and dresses and makeup and be ‘forced’ to live life as a little sissy bimbo. This, obviously, didn’t do much for the ladies, so he never had a true girlfriend.

So one day, Christian decided after 5 days of depriving himself of orgasms, that he was finally going to come out to his Mom. He was going to tell her about how he’s a sissy, how he likes to wear diapers, and be treated like a baby. He was tired of keeping all of this shoved down and tucked away for so long.

It felt so freeing to finally tell her. To let her know everything about what her son was secretly doing. But, apparently, it wasn’t much of a surprise at all. She hardly blinked an eye, and instead just smiled like a mother patiently waiting for her child to correctly solve what 6+8 is, and congratulating him for finally getting it.

“So you want me to treat you like a little sissy baby?” she asked, clarifying.

“Well, no…” he said. Or, at least, that’s what he wanted to say. Instead, he was awestruck by the idea, by the possibilities. He could finally get what he wanted! He could have someone treat him like the sissy baby gurl he’d always wanted to be! “Yes!” He said for real, “Very much yes!!”

His mother only laughed. “Are you sure that’s what you want? I mean, when will it stop? How long do you want to do this?”

“Forever.” He said, a single word sealing his fate. If he knew what he knew now, he would have never uttered that word.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.” Okay…maybe he shouldn’t have said that one either.

So started Christian’s journey into sissy depravity. His mother pulled out all the stops, showing no mercy. Like a stern parent raising her child once more, she kept him in line using discipline, time outs, and a new one most mothers can’t use: chastity denial.

She watched as her son slowly transformed into a babbling, drooly mess. She wasn’t sure if it was the hypnosis she’d been making him watch, or all the childish TV shows. He wasn’t allowed to play his video games any more, something he threw quite the little tantrum over. Instead, he was given blocks and rattles and (if he was good) some of his favorite dollies. She didn’t have to cook much, Gerber took care of all his meals. She’d shovel pureed prunes and peas into his mouth and wipe up the contents to shove back in. She didn’t think she’d ever be changing Christian’s poopy diapers again, yet here she was.

But after only a few short months, she started to notice even more of a change in him. He became more reclusive, more whiny, more tearful.

“What’s wrong, pumpkin?” she asked, drying Christian’s eyes with his food splattered bib.

“I on’t wanna be uh baby anymore!” he cried.

But his Mother showed no sympathy. “Awww!! Well that’s too bad, hunny! This is what you wanted! Remember? You wanted this to be forever.”

Christian looked up at her with his little doe eyes, like he knew he’d made a grave mistake.

“I guess this is as good a time as ever to tell you…” Mother said, clearing her throat, “I’ve arranged for you to have a little…procedure.”

“Puceedur?” Christian could hardly get the words out, his brain was so numb.

“Yes honey. You know those little princess parts between your legs?” 

He looked confused.

“The ones inside your pampers.”

That seemed to make sense to him, anything involving diapers was easy to get his head around.

“Well you see honey, this procedure, this operation is going to take those away!”

His eyes went wide, but he still looked hazy. Like he could only slightly understand the gravity of the situation. It took several more seconds to finally sink in.

“B-b-but…I on’t wanna lose my princess parts!!”

His mother just shrugged, arms crossed. “I’m afraid it’s too late for that, dear. You wanted this, and I’m just supporting you.”

She pulled a bottle from the bag, shaking it with her finger over the nipple, then brought that nipple to Christian’s lips.

“Drink up, honey!” she said softly, “This has all the ingredients to help you become the wittle baby gurl you’ve always dreamed of being!!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

This was a custom caption for one of my lovely followers on Substar! If you'd like one of your very own, simply subscribe to Silver or higher tiers!

[rhys-writes-some-shit]

"Sing to Me?"

Alastor x Reader (QP)

Yawning, you trudged out of the bathroom, drying your hair loosely with a towel. You were warm from your shower and the filling meal you'd had a little while earlier. Alastor was probably the best chef you knew, a fact you were extremely proud of. Even if your preferred form of protein was banned from the hotel premises, Alastor was always able to make do with what he had.

Despite it being late at night, you grabbed your laptop (a very rare, not VoxTech one) to work on some paperwork. You'd promised your boss to get these spreadsheets done, and you weren't one to shirk on your promises. Yawning again, you tuned your old-fashioned radio before settling down with your laptop. The radio had been a gift from Alastor. Many late nights had been spent listening to his broadcasts. They'd always been a comfort, even before you'd signed a contract with him.

Some light jazz filtered through the static, one of your favorite songs. Alastor knew you were listening. Smiling lightly, you started typing away.

The music was occasionally interrupted by a bloodcurdling scream or a sharp whimper. Your smile never left, humming along while Alastor had his fun. Part of you was vaguely aware that the radio show was now being broadcast all throughout Hell, that you didn't even need the radio, but you liked it, so it stayed on.

The spreadsheets were simple enough. With the radio in the background, you were able to focus just enough that the job came naturally. In the back of your mind, you started going over the next day’s schedule.

You'd ended up zoning out while you typed, not even noticing how the radio switched to static and then turned off by itself.

A single knock preceded Alastor's entrance, enough to break you from your thoughts. You were quick to notice the faint blood splatter on the sole of Alastor’s shoes, the only evidence of his previous activities.

“My dear, you know how I abhor those vile machines,” Alastor reprimanded, walking and starting to subconsciously organize your room. A chair was pushed in, a painting adjusted so it was even, the bottom drawer of your dresser lightly closed.

“Yeah, yeah.” You grinned to yourself. “I need it to do my job, Al. Besides, do you have any idea how hard it is to find a piece of electronic equipment that's not created by VoxTech?”

“All the more reason to get rid of it.” Alastor walked over to the window and stared out at it. He was a little lost in thought himself, it would seem.

Typing a line, you said, “I liked your broadcast.”

“I'm glad.”

He was quiet. Something was wrong. Your grin died down, pushing your laptop to the side. Alastor’s smile was still there, but dimmer. Sadder.

“Al? You okay?”

“Nothing to concern yourself with, dearest,” Alastor replied, a slight edge in his voice.

You wanted to push. To get him to talk to you. But you knew it wouldn't be worth it. If anything, he'd just get upset or shut down more.

“You know, sometimes I wonder what would've happened if we'd met while we were alive,” You said nonchalantly. “I mean, obviously that would've been impossible in the first place, considering I wasn't even born when you died, but I just wonder about it.”

“What a ridiculous thing to wonder about!” Alastor laughed a little. “As you said, it would have been impossible. And why think about being alive when we have all of death to enjoy?” His tone lightened a bit. “There is so much entertainment to be had! Life was quite dull, comparably.”

You wondered for a moment, trying to figure out where to lead the conversation. “Where did you live, when you were alive? You already know where I lived when I was alive, it's only fair I know where you lived.”

Alastor’s grin softened a bit, still sad, but with a hint of happiness in there. Nostalgia, if you had to guess. “New Orleans, Louisiana. I lived there with my mother. I had a delightful job as a radio host.”

“You're still a radio host,” you teased playfully. “What was it like, back then?”

“Ah, it was… entertaining.” He didn't say anything more, lost in thought as he leaned on his cane. You were vaguely aware that you were the only person who ever saw him like this. Alastor wore his smile like armor, guarding himself with a nonchalant facade, but very rarely, behind closed doors, the guard would fall, just for a little while.

Just as you were about to open your mouth to ask another question, Alastor spoke, “You seem quite tired, my dear. Maybe it is time we part ways for the evening.”

Pressing your lips together, you knew he was right. You really should be getting to bed, but you were worried about Alastor. You hadn't seen him like this before, so it was impossible to guess what he'd do once he was alone.

“You really should learn to hide your emotions better.” Alastor turned suddenly, chucking to himself. “There is nothing to worry about, darling. I am perfectly fine.”

“Yeah, you say that, but for some reason I don't believe you.” Stifling a yawn, you gave Alastor a look.

“Now, now, don't be like that.” Alastor came and sat on the edge of the bed, using his magic to set the laptop on top of the dresser. “What can I do to convince you to sleep?”

Leaning back, you thought for a moment. When the idea hit you, your face flushed with embarrassment for a moment, but you swallowed the anxiety. He did ask, after all.

“Sing to me?”

Alastor laughed, causing you to glare. “Again with the ridiculous ideas!” When your face fell subconsciously, Alastor hesitated.

When he didn't say anything, you accepted the fact that it was a ridiculous request. Assuming he'd leave the room on his own accord, you used your magic to turn out the lights as you slid under the covers of your bed. You never did get all those spreadsheets done like you'd wanted.

“Parlez-moi d’amour.”

Alastor’s slightly-static-filled voice was quiet. His eyes faintly glowed in the dark and you watched him with wide eyes.

“Redites-moi des choses tendres.”

Smiling softly, you sank into the bed, closing your eyes and allowing Alastor’s comforting voice to wash over you.

“Votre beau discours /

“Mon cœur n'est pas las de l'entendre /

“Pourvu que toujours /

“Vous répétiez ces mots suprêmes /

“Je vous aime.”

((The song))

[vanishedinvain]

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒'𝐋𝐋 𝐁𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈 𝐃𝐈𝐄

—𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞: 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥-𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡

pairing: benedict bridgerton x fem!reader (but she doesn't show up yet, sorry lol)

summary: benedict's last moment of contentment before the storm that marooned his dreams.

warnings: very very brief mention of a gun, baby's first fic (it's me, i'm baby)

wc: 1.6k

next chapter // series masterlist

The Wiminet Art House sits just outside the limits of Mayfair, owned by the Dowager Baroness Lyra Wiminet. It is only half the size of a wing at Somerset House, and most of the artists are either anonymous or so unknown, they are as good as anonymous. It crams in an overwhelming number of pieces, barely a centimeter between each frame. It features a myriad of styles: soft landscapes, portraits, absurd finger-paintings, violent war scenes. 

When it first opened, every London newspaper dismissed it as the eccentricity of a widow, mad without a man to guide her. There was no cohesion, they said. Downright tasteless. Where was the class? The refinement? It was a laughingstock for all of two days before the ton moved on as they always did.

It was also Benedict Bridgerton’s most frequented gallery. And Eloise had no idea why.

“You have been here at least twenty times in the past year, and they have only changed a single painting,” Eloise pointed out on one of these trips. Though she did not prefer to visit the same blasted gallery with the same blasted paintings, it was more merciful than watching Daphne and their mother flit about the house searching for the perfect dress to secure a proposal from the Prussian prince.

Plus her brother promised to buy her an apricot ice afterwards.

“What could possibly be left to see?” she asked.

They were standing in front of a rather large seascape, one that spanned a quarter of the wall. Benedict turned away to look at Eloise, a grimace upon her face as she tried to see what her brother saw. It was a quality Benedict most appreciated in her; she was stubborn and quick to snark, but she never wrote off his interests as frivolous. She was attempting to understand, even if she was staring at the painting like it personally offended her.  

“Do you remember when you were eleven and Colin brought home that mystery novel for all of us? The one where an opera singer was killed in the middle of a show.”

“An Aria Most Deadly,” she recalled, smiling, “I couldn’t put it down. Col was scolded for bringing home such a—how did Mama word it?—terribly gruesome and improper book.”

He chuckled, remembering their mother’s scandalized face. As Colin was being scolded, she had set the book down on the settee. Eloise, ever nimble, snatched it and ran up to her room with nary a scuff across the floor.

“You re-read it over and over, looking for the clues, even after you’d finished it days prior. A snide comment from the stagehand that was once humorous turned dark. The author’s insistence on describing the location of the candelabra suddenly became obvious.”

“The details were so much clearer in hindsight,” she remarked.

“That is usually the privilege of hindsight.” He gestured back to the painting in front of them. “What do you see?”

She stared for a moment, tilting her head to one side to see if a change in angle would help. It was a turbulent scene, violent even, with outbursts of red and orange screaming amongst the cerulean and imposing slate clouds as the ship went down.

“A shipwreck?” Eloise answered with a shrug. “An unfortunately timed storm?”

Benedict stepped back, and grabbed Eloise by the shoulders, shifting her to the right so that she could stand in his place. “Do you see that spot of red on the ship?”

She squinted slightly. “Clearly, a fire broke out on the ship. Likely from the gunpowder catching on the wood. I mean, it says it in the title, Ship on Fire in Water,” she said, reading off the plaque underneath.

“But look closer at this spot of red at the front of the ship. Or that one by the captain’s quarters. Compare it to how the artist paints the flames,” Benedict insisted, gesturing to each area of interest. “He or she blends out the flames with orange and a bit of yellow usually. But these particular spots aren’t. They’re blended with brown. Maybe even a bit of black. That’s not fire, is it?”

Her eyebrows raised as the realization dawned on her. “It’s blood! Someone was killed. The captain, maybe?” She turned back to look at him in unbridled excitement at the newly-uncovered narrative.

Benedict smiled widely, crinkles forming around his eyes, watching his little sister finally get it, get him. “Possibly.”

“What do you think was the motive? Was it a mutiny?”

He shrugged. “That I am unsure of, dear sister. Every time I come back, I see something new. So, perhaps we need to look at it longer. Or make our rounds and come back with fresh eyes.”

Eloise had bounded off before he even finished.

They spent another two hours in the gallery, making little comments on each one, attempting to decipher a story from it. They even requested a step-ladder for the ones that had been skied because Benedict, having met Lady Wiminet, knew that there was no rhyme or reason as to the placement of each painting.

There was a most brilliant park scene about half a meter down from the ceiling. The artist did not draw a realistic, soft sunset, but a heightened one with punchy plums and a bright tangerine shade to blend. It was a bold choice that Benedict would’ve never thought of. The scene itself was of a promenade, much to Eloise’s displeasure, but she found amusement in mapping out the interpersonal relationships of the swans in the lake.

They made their way back to the bloodied, fiery ship shipwreck, standing in amicable silence before Eloise spoke.

“I understand it now. Why you've been here twenty times. Why you sketch until your fingers shake at dinner, but then use your drawings as fire kindle at night. You’re chasing greatness.”

“I want to get one of mine on these walls one day, El,” he said quietly, as if they weren’t the only people in the room. It was the first time he had admitted that ambition out loud.

“You will,” she replied, equally quiet back.

He sighed in relief. He wasn’t worried about Eloise’s reaction, though her vote of confidence was cherished. He was worried about being so unworthy that the words would refuse to roll off his tongue, lodging in his throat as a croak. But the idea was out there now, and a mirthful giddiness sprouted forth in the soil where his insecurities were rooted.

“I’d be anonymous, though,” he added after a pause.

She frowned, but neither of them made further comments on the subject. He already understood what she didn't verbalize. She dreaded living and dying in anonymity without a university degree or prolific novel attached to her name, something to outlast her that wasn’t a dullard husband or terrifying child. She could not stand the thought that the world might feel zero impact from her existence. 

Benedict, however, was far less eager to sign his name on a canvas. He could be displayed in any gallery in England if he simply asked, regardless of whether he was even good enough. Who would dare criticize a Bridgerton painting, with nine generations of viscounts breathing down their necks? If he were to ever put his name on any of his work, he wanted—needed—to be so good that everyone would be too awestruck by what was in front of them to check whose name was etched onto the little copper plaque beneath the frame.

This was one of the only points of incongruence between the second eldest Bridgerton brother and sister that couldn’t be remedied by a simple anecdote or shift to the right. Though, perhaps there was no need for one; a painter would never ask a writer to adjust her palette and a writer would never tell a painter his meter was off-tempo.

It was an afternoon well spent away from the ornery obligations of the social season, coming home with their appetites spoiled from the promised apricot ices. Benedict grabbed An Aria Most Deadly from the library, and read the first few chapters before retiring for the night. He’d finished the novel after he pried it away from Eloise years ago, so he knew it was the conductor who had killed the opera singer. This knowledge only pulled the deftly placed clues into crisp focus upon this second reading; even the first chapter was littered with hints.

Perhaps that is why when he sits in the viscount’s study, the one that was never supposed to go to him, he often thinks about the night of Granville’s party. That night began with him feeling so alive, more alive than he could ever fathom. Yet, it ended with a sinking stone of dread taking up a months-long residence in the pit of his stomach.

Were there clues he should’ve seen?

If he’d been less drunk off the wine or the women or both, he’d have noticed Daphne wasn’t wearing the necklace gifted to her by the prince, even though he clocked the ostentatious clunk of jewelry when she left for the Trowbridge Ball. Or that the hem of her dress was muddy and her face was pinched, on the verge of tears.

If he wasn’t so preoccupied with how to take advantage of his freedoms as the spare of the family, he’d have noticed the blooming violet bruises on Anthony’s knuckles as he yanked Benedict into the study with considerable force.

It wasn’t until he was rolling his shoulder, about to complain that his arm could've been popped out of its socket, when the gun box was placed on the desk with a resounding thud. 

Things only clicked into place as Anthony began frantically talking about estates and dowries and an appointment with the duke at dawn, but there were signs from the moment he walked in the door.

The details were always so much clearer in hindsight.

next chapter // series masterlist

a/n: they dropped new abc pictures last month, and i decided to make it everyone else's problem by starting this fic. now it’s bridgerton eve!!! rejoice!!!

[queers-gambit]

My Date With the President's Daughter

part one: Blue Bunny

prompt: your father finds out about Tangerine in the worst way during a charity gala before marauders try to rob it.

pairing: Tangerine x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Bullet Train

word count: 6.3k+

note: a little Disney Channel throwback in the title anyone?

warnings: use of Irish names that DO NOT dictate race, more Mafia antics, short smut / interrupted smut (you'll see), NSFW i think, mature content, cursing, chaos and violence, weapons: guns and knives, blood. dead bodies, reader's a Daddy's Girl, abrupt ending, slight angst, more hurt and comfort i guess, author still has no idea what this plot is - revoke her internet access.

The theme of the gala that night was inspired by the Palace of Versailles; regal, royal, glittering and so very, very gold. It was held at one of the most expensive hotels in the city, the entire building rented out in preparation with three different caterers and expensive bottles of alcohol being served. The gala was THE place to be - most people vying for an invitation, everyone who was anyone in attendance; dripping in designer clothes, shoes, and jewelry that sparkled in candlelight.

Every single year for the past 25 years, your legendary father hosted a large charity event that your mother was project manager of - meaning she chose the themes, decor, and the invite list. Only elite persons (both in the public and private eye) with deep pockets were invited, knowing they'd cut a large check if they wanted your father to stay out of their business territories. So, in honor of the richer-than-rich attendees, your mother used grand and golden decorations; creating a tastefully regal atmosphere for those who didn't actually have a drop of royal blood in their veins.

You father, Fallon, meaning "leader" in the ancient Celtic language, looked as handsome and dapper as ever; his tux dry cleaned, steamed, ironed, and tailored, paired with clean and shining dress shoes that had a bright red sole. His hair was slicked back, tattoos on his neck visible from the swept-back style.

Your mother, Maeve, whose name meant "she who rules", looked like she had just walked off a runway. Her dress hugged her slender and impressive figure, the material shimmering under the soft lighting. Her heels were high, hair pinned off her neck to show off bright diamond earrings that matched the thin chain of glittering gems around her collarbones, the sparkling tennis bracelet, and the absurdly large wedding ring on her finger. Her face was lightly painted with make-up, always a woman who didn't need much - if any at all. You prayed to age as gracefully as she.

Your brother, Oisín - pronounced [Oh - Sheen] - meant "little deer"; a cheeky but shy lad at the ripe age of 10. He wore a matching tux as your father, and had an emerald broach pinned on his lapel to indicate he belonged to your family. His au pair was supposed to be watching him so you could mingle with donors, but Oisín didn't stray from your side; a wee hand holding the material of your expensive dress on your hip to keep himself from getting lost.

The gala was crowded. Large event room stifling, requiring the air be turned on. Perfume assaulting the senses in a clash of scents.

The trademark "cha-ching" sound effect echoed in your mind as you shmoozed a few guests into their donations; impressing your brother by how easy you made it look. You thanked each donor with a pretty smile and fluttering lashes, floating around the room to meet other investors; giving them your family's charity's mission statement and explained where their money would go. Most of the people in this room were seedy criminals - similar to your father - and the other few were corrupt politicians who were nestled in the criminal's pockets.

By no means was the night boring, but this was work for you; all business, no pleasure.

The decor your mother chose had a lot of glittering gold details; a few imported busts and statues, an entire wall full of sculpted grass to mimic the Palace's own garden designs; artwork hung in thick, intricate frames, bright crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. The event hall was specifically chosen for the floor-to-ceiling windows, sculpted shrubbery planted around the room; banquet tables covered in white cloth and chairs made of white plush - complimenting the detailed golden accents. It was gorgeous, you were impressed by your mother's attention to detail.

You wore a dress made of fine silk, the pretty green hue complimenting your skin tone; hair left down, pinned at the sides, showing off the dangling, expensive earrings your father gifted you on your 18th birthday. You, too, wore heels that forced you to walk taller and with calculated steps; rimmed eyes darting around to ensure there wasn't any shady business transpiring. But when surrounded by people who made their living by being sketchy, it was hard to clock each and every movement; being why your father had hired a very specific (and loyal) security service.

With several checks in hand, you visited your father's banker, a mute man named Bradley, and handed them over for safe keeping; your brother able to practice his sign language. Bradley was happy to reply, your entire family versed in multiple languages, and showed the young lad his process of collecting and documenting the donations. After tallying your new checks to the grand total, he used British Sign Language to inform you and Oisín of the updated tally generated so far.

"Why does Daddy need to do this?" The young lad asked, holding your hand tightly; not being a fan of social interactions - especially to this magnitude.

"To keep business moving squeaky clean," you answered softly, smiling at a few who passed you. "Money makes the world go 'round, don't it?"

He sighed, "Do we know all these people?"

"We do, they're Daddy's associates," you nodded, "and you best believe, they all know us. See, one day, you'll learn their names and what businesses they provide, how Daddy keeps them all employed."

Oisín looked uncomfortable, wondering, "Are they dangerous? Like the guys that came for Christmas?"

You came to a halt around the edge of the room, caressing his head while being careful not to muse his hair out of place. "They're all dangerous, in their own way, yes, lovie. But," you lowered into a squat so you could look your brother in his eyes, "you'll learn, Daddy's much more dangerous. So, we host events like this t'keep everyone happy and in line, you see? It's a power play."

He nodded, glancing around the room of adults. "Do I have to stay the whole time, though? Mommy said I could invite Darrel and Kevin - they're over there," he pointed towards one of the round tables, two of his classmates laughing with their mothers standing off to the side. "And I'm hungry!"

"Oh, you're a hungry lad, is it?" You smiled, watching his head bob. "Well then, in that case, we should feed you, huh? C'mon," you straightened and offered your hand, which he took gratefully. "We'll get yah fed, sweetums, and you can hang with your friends, yeah?"

"Daddy won't be mad?"

"No, I'll tell him you did really well tonight, helping me collect donations," you winked, leading him to one of the catering tables. You made up his plate with different options, carrying it to the table his friends, Darrel and Kevin, were sat at.

The boys - who looked adorably dapper in suits and bowties - greeted your brother happily; letting you set his plate down and greet the mothers kindly to thank them for their attendance that night.

"Oh, Miss!" Your brother's au pair, Lisa, hustled up to you, "I'm so sorry, I lost track - "

"No, no, 's fine, you're all right, deep breath, love," you assured, squeezing her upper arm. "Having a good night so far?"

"Oh, it's magical, Miss, innit?" She beamed, looking around in wonder. "Never been before despite working for your family all these years, I'm grateful for your mother's invitation tonight."

"Oh, we're very happy to host yah, sweetheart," you smiled. "But, uh, you mind keepin' an eye on Oisín for me? I've gotta work a bit more. He just wants t'hang with his friends, think he's a bit tired."

"Of course," she rushed.

"I'd wager you can take him t'bed after Daddy's speech, hmm? I know he'll want Oisín here for that, at the very least."

Lisa agreed, mingling with the other mothers as you pecked Oisín's head and told him to behave, that you were gonna go back to working the gala; which he at least acknowledged before being sucked back into a card game with Darrel. You didn't mind the blow off, liking the idea that he had as normal of a life as possible - a farfetched idea considering your father ran the bloody Irish Mafia and all. He's attended three different schools since he started his educational career, so you were content to leave him with his friends; letting boys be boys.

After making another deposit to Bradley, you visited one of the modern and unique glass bars (one of three stations) while feeling somewhat dejected by the night's missing guest. But speak (or think) of the Devil and He shall appear.

"You weren't kiddin' when you said your family goes all out for events like this. Jesus fuckin' Christ," a familiar, accented voice crooned; a body saddling up to the bar beside you. You first saw his hands clasped together on the bar, recognizing the golden rings and single bracelet, smirking as your eyes lifted to meet that of Aaron - or Tangerine.

"You're late," you mused, locking eyes with the bartender and holding up two fingers; indicating you now wanted two of the drinks you ordered, him nodding.

"Sorry 'bout that, love, yeah, no, Lem and I got caught up in somethin', had ta deal, then get cleaned up for yah. Figured you wouldn't want us walkin' in here with blood on us."

"You'd be right," you hummed, red painted lips stretching in amusement as you both casually leaned on the glass bartop with your forearms. "Doesn't matter, you're here now - thank God."

"That bad, huh?"

"Not like previous years," you admitted, sending a glance over your shoulder at the group of milling socialites. "Since Daddy inducted The Agency, some traction's picked up believe it or not. Seems like a lot of people like the idea of contract killers for hire and investing in the Black Market. Seems like you lot really up the ante, don't'cha?"

"Ah," he smirked, "you're welcome, then. Happy t'be of service."

"I'll only thank you when you make a donation to the cause."

"Yeah?" He smirked. "Well, you got anywhere private for me to write a check, then, love? Can't have anyone knowin' I'm charitable, got a reputation to uphold, know what I mean?" Then he leaned in real close, lips ghosted against your ear and making a shiver shoot down your spine, "C'mon, doll, 's been 3 weeks since I've seen yah."

"I know," you sighed, "but we've been busy tonight. Plus, Daddy would kill you - like, actually kill you - 'cause he's listed you specifically for me to stay away from."

"And yet, here you are, naughty girl, huh? Disobeying orders?" He smirked and put a space between you for the sake of appearances, two glasses of whiskey set before you. "Your Daddy's been preoccupied all night, love - don't think he'd even notice if we pop out for a bit. 'Fraid to admit but if I don't get you alone soon, I might actually lose my shit, darlin', honestly."

"Aaron, sweetheart, my family is hosting this event and we're responsible for collections," you deadpanned, but smirked, "'s a bit inappropriate to abandon such an important night by sneaking off."

"Can't tell me you're not tempted."

Now, you full-on grinned, "I didn't wear panties for a reason."

"You fuckin' tease," he growled over the rim of the crystal glass. When he tasted the whiskey, he hummed in shock, looking at the amber liquid, "Fuck me, that's nice."

"My family may or may not own several distilleries. You're drinking an exquisite, 15-year ol' whiskey, love." You took your own sip, casting another look around the room, finding your brother first, still with his friends before locating your parents. They were pleasantly distracted by an ambassador, making you grin at Tangerine, "C'mon."

"Hey?" He wondered, quickly setting his half-drank glass down as you snatched his free hand to quickly lead him away. He smirked and casted a look over his shoulder, instantly meeting Lemon's eyes - finding him laughing at the pair of you, toasting his drink at his brother in impression as if he knew what you two were up to.

Thanks to Thomas the Tank Engine, Lemon definitely knew what you two were doing - being excellent at reading people.

You lead your lover out of the event hall, checking up and down the empty hall and missing the way one of the security guards clocked your escape. You lead Tangerine into the large, private, unisex bathroom; shoving him against the closed door and instantly latching onto him in a deep kiss.

He was fully prepared, catching your hips; hissing a breath in through his nose, releasing a gentle moan out of sheer relief. When you pulled back, he grinned, "Got no idea how much I fuckin' missed yah, darlin'."

"Missed you more," you whispered in a rush, arms wrapping around his neck as he simultaneously began backing you up. It was a hungry kiss; heated, passionate, teeth clanking from impact, both attempting to make up for lost time. Ever in-sync, both your mouths opened to push your tongues against one another; exchanging saliva and the taste of expensive whiskey.

"C'mere," he panted after having backed you into the sink counter, seizing hold of your silken hips and hoisting you upwards. Your mouths were never far apart, joining together once more now that you were sat at a vantage point. Your hands shoved his navy blue suit jacket from his shoulders, it being set aside to the other end of the counter while you worked on his belt. "Never goin' this long again," he mumbled into your kiss, pushing the material of your dress up to let your legs spread wider in accommodation. Your lover rushed, "Jesus, fuck, feels like forever, don't it?"

You nodded as his hands pushed under the bunched material to grip the plush meat of your thighs; giving a gentle massage before sliding them higher until he met your bare hips. The cold counter bit into your exposed flesh.

"Oh, fuck me, you really didn't wear panties?" He groaned, glancing down as he lifted silk from your lap to catch a glimpse of your bare cunt - ready to greet him.

"Had a feelin' you'd show up, you just can't stay away, can yah?" You smirked, cheekily licking his lips as his belt clattered open. "Thought you'd might appreciate it," your chuckle was swallowed by his moan as the zipper of his trousers sounded almost shrilly to your over heightened senses. "Just need you close, so fuckin' close, please, missed you, baby - "

"No idea how much I've missed you, love, fuckin' hell," he rushed, reaching into his briefs the moment you had loosened the waistband of his tailored trousers to take hold of his cock. "This ain't gonna be nice an' easy, love, yeah? All right?" He checked, feeling you slide to the edge of the counter.

"Didn't think anything else," you grinned, gasping lightly when the head of his cock swept up and down your slit. "Plenty of time for that later, just need you fuckin' close - closer than close."

"Feel how fuckin' wet you are already? Goddamnit - "

"All for you, baby, c'mon, don't tease - "

In a single motion, Tangerine sheathed himself in your warmth, grinning in mischief, "Huh? Sayin' somethin', weren't yah, doll? Go 'head, finish your sentence, 'M listening."

You only chuckled, hands holding his neck and bicep in vice grips to keep yourself anchored as close as possible to him. "Three weeks without yah, and you wanna provoke me?" You whispered, feeling him begin to thrust in agonizing movements.

"Wouldn't be me if I didn't, huh?"

You chuckled breathlessly - gasping when, suddenly, the bathroom door burst open. You were facing that way, looking up from Tangerine's shoulder, only to discover your worst fear. "Holy shit! Daddy!?" You squeaked, Tangerine jolting and cursing in a hushed tone as he instantly yanked out of your wet warmth.

"Oh, you betta be fuckin' kiddin' me," your father seethed. "The fuck is goin' on here!? What the fuck are you goin'!? Who the fuck is that - is-is-is that who I think it is?" He growled, your lover fumbling to tuck himself away and pull his trousers back together - not moving from between your legs in an effort to preserve your modesty. But he had turned slightly to give your father a glimpse of his face, making your Daddy snarl, "Oh, bloody fuckin' hell! You serious? Fuckin' Tangerine, is it? You lost your mind, girl!?"

"Daddy, please," you warbled nervously, tears of anxiety gathering.

"Get the fuck out here - now! Boff of yah's!" He commanded in a roar, stepping out of the doorway.

"Oh, holy fuck," Aaron breathed, latching his belt and looking at you with wide eyes. "Well, was nice while this lasted, huh? Gonna miss yah, pretty girl - "

"The fuck are you - "

"He's gonna fuckin' kill me, sugar," Tangerine frowned, your dress falling gracefully into place when you slid off the counter. "Your father's gonna fuckin' kill me, Goddamnit," he pulled his suit jacket back on. "Think I can make it out that window?"

"He already knows it's you, runnin' now won't help," you sniffled, shaking your head and moving for the still-opened door. "You didn't think to fucking lock the door? Jesus fuck, Aaron..."

He followed after you, meeting your father in the empty hallway outside where the gala was in full-swing. He looked enraged, jaw clenched and wide eyes ablaze, looking the both of you over in disgust. "You out of your bloody mind you stupid girl? Huh?" He demanded, "I told you - very clearly - you weren't to fuckin' see him again."

"Daddy - "

"And this is how I find out? Huh? That my daughter doesn't respect my authority or listen to my words? How the fuck do you think people would react to that? They see you disobeying and get the idea to do the same."

"I'm not yours to command - "

"You're my daughter!" Fallon barked in anger, "My only fuckin' daughter, which means, you are, indeed, mine to command - just like everyone else in this fucking organization! You understand? My word is law - "

"This isn't just some petty fling, Daddy, that I'm engaged in to pass the time! I'm in love with him!" You blurted out, eyes widening when you heard your own words and watched your father's face fall.

"Beg your pardon?" He seethed slowly. "Have you gone mental? Finally fuckin' lost it? Huh? You must be outta your Goddamn mind if you think you love this silly fuck! He doesn't love you back, Y/N, you're just a coveted prize because you're my daughter - it's a thrill to men like him! Women like you, you're just trophies! There's no authenticity - "

"With all due respect," Tangerine interrupted boldly with anger lacing his words, "but you've got it all wrong, sir. Your daughter is the most important person t'me - outside my bruva, of course. She's not a trophy to collect, she's not a dainty object for me to store onna shelf - she's not a notch on my belt. But you're right about one thing," his arm extended around your waist, "she is the most coveted prize - but that's because of who she is, not who her father is. She's my prize, yeah, because she's the end goal men search their whole lives for and for whatever reason, she fuckin' chose me. I consider it the greatest honor - "

"You got some fuckin' nerve, don't'cha?" Your father growled. "You know what, lad? Since it's evident my daughter doesn't take me seriously, maybe you'll be smart enough to heed my warning. You leave her the fuck alone or - "

"I can't do that, sir," Tan refused, "'cause like it or not, I'm mad for her. Absolutely stupid for her. I love your daughter past words, don't even think I've ever loved someone 'cause bein' with her feels so fuckin' different in comparison.

"That so?"

Tangerine nodded, other hand shoving into his pocket to toy with the cool metal of golden brass knuckles. "There's nobody in this world like your daughter, sir. Bein' in love with her is like euphoria, yeah? Makes me think back and realize how wrong I was about my feelings for anyone else 'cause of how I feel for her. I say there ain't no way I've ever loved anyone else 'cause I've never felt this way before - I've only felt this type of love with your daughter. Yeah? She's fuckin' everything to me, so, with respect, I can't stay away. I won't."

"Yeah? Yeah? Fuckin' fine. All right, sure, let's see if The Agency has anythin' t'say about this, huh? When I pull the plug on this deal, I'll be sure to tell your employers why and let them deal with you for ruining this business partnership."

"Daddy," you gasped, rushing when he turned for the event hall's doors, Aaron following swiftly. You caught the metal doors when your father yanked them open and strode into the room, doing your best to catch him before he did anything too rash. "Wait, wait, Daddy, please, just listen, listen to me - I didn't mean for this to happen!"

"Didn't mean for what? Me findin' yah fuckin' in the bathroom like a desperate whore?" He snarled over his shoulder, the thick crowd slowing him.

"Well, yes, but I also didn't mean to fall in love with him! All right? But you know better than all of us that it's not a choice, it just happens! Look at you and Mum - "

He rounded on you, Tan at your flank, opening his mouth to scold you when something caught his eye behind you. You didn't have time to question him as rapid shots filled the air, a telltale sign of an automatic gun being fired in the crowded room. You flinched slightly, Tangerine instantly grabbing your waist to cover your body with his; turning to locate the threat, only to discover a gaggle of men in all black wearing ski masks and duffel bags on their shoulders.

"Friends of yours?" Tan snipped at your father, keeping you low as the crowd shrieked in panic - all trying to escape, still being shot at. This caused the seedy individuals with guns to take a stand and shoot back at the intruders, creating mass confusion and limited advantages.

"Bruv!"

"Brian," Aaron panted, people bumping into one another as they panicked in a flood of bodies. He looked down at you and then to your father, Fallon, only to find blood blooming under his white button up. "Oh, fuck," his eyes widened, gunshots still sounding, "right, we gotta move - can deal with everything else later. Here, here, here," Tangerine plucked a cloth napkin from a nearby table and shoved it over your father's wound to help staunch the bleeding.

"They got the doors, mate," Lemon shook his head when you noticed your father's wound. Luckily, it didn't appear to be in a fatal location, his hand holding pressure as the security detail were being gunned down. "The fuck do we do now?" Lemon asked over shrill shrieks.

"What we do best," Tangerine answered, pushing your father into action and brandishing his gun. "Stay close - "

"I'm not leaving without my wife and son!" Your father growled.

"Lem!"

"On it," he agreed, disappearing into the swarm of people.

Your lover kept you close, shoving through the crowd to lead towards a set of heavy metal doors. Several men stepped in your way, Tan sneering, "Right, fuck this." He opened fire.

You squeaked in shock when a different body tackled Aaron from the side to knock him out of sight, your father keeping a hold on you as straggling bodies dropped around you. "There he is!" You heard over the confusion, locating a set of men surging towards you.

There was nowhere to go, leaving you to physically block your father in a bid to protect him - not needing to when Tangerine intercepted the two threats. He didn't have his gun anymore, lost in a stampede of feet on bloody marble floors, opting to use his fists and brute strength against the robbers. The brass knuckles helped.

You had to admit, it was the perfect night to attack considering how much money Bradley was keeping track of. Plus the fact that everyone's guard was down made tonight the perfect opportunity for marauders to act against your family.

However, in a sea of confusion, you were separated from your father's side; losing him amongst the people and feeling a tight hand seize your upper arm. "I got the daughter!" The man in a ski mask informed through the visible comms system. "Moving for the south wing, bring the van around t'the alley."

"Aaron!" You begged, trying to wrangle free but discovering your strength was nothing compared to the 6'3'' goon's. "Aaron! Aaron, please! Help!"

"Shut the fuck up," the man snapped, backhanding you and never releasing his grip. A single trickle of blood oozed from one nostril as the man's ring split your bottom lip. "Fuckin' move!" He barked at you in a thick accent, "Move, bitch, let's go!"

"What do you want!? Please, just - just tell me! I can give you whatever it is - please! Fucking let go!"

Another enemy joined you, sneering, "Oi! The fuck you doin'? Don't damage the goods, fuckin' idiot, we gotta keep her in decent shape for the ransom! Fallon ain't payin' if his daughter's been assaulted - "

But a gunshot boomed and the other man's body jolted before falling flat on his back - dead with a hole in his forehead. You tried to capitalize on your captor's shock, unsuccessful, feeling blood splatter on your back from a different fallen body. You saw your father under the wing of his security, his own gun being used in defense, begging, "Daddy! Daddy, help!"

The one night you don't ensure your thigh holster's filled, of course this happens!

Fallon was only able to watch as Tangerine fought his way up to you struggling in the bulky man's grip; impressed when one contract killer engaged another. "Oi!" Tan barked, "Hands off my girl, yah fuckin' lunatic!" He threw several punches, the goon forced to release you to defend himself. Fallon watched as Tangerine waited until you were freed and a step to the side before opening fire again - killing the man who dared touch you. He realized that Tangerine had waited until you were clear to take the shot - feeling impression plant in his gut. Yet there was no time to dwell as intruders circled him.

"Oh, my God!" You whimpered, bodies left in growing pools of blood; your dress dragging in the tacky substance to paint abstract swirls on the shining floor; trying to avoid being swept up in the streams of panicking people. Your name was barked, another hand grabbing you, but this time, it was Lemon - sprayed in enemy blood.

"C'mon, doll, I got'cha!" He promised, being engaged by another robber. You sobbed in shock when an arm caught you in a headlock and forcefully drug you backwards; heeled feet scrambling in an attempt to keep up and avoid falling over.

"Lemon! Please! Fuck's sake!"

Breathing was hard to do in a headlock, dancing black spots blurring your vision slowly and your heart hammering in fear. A machine gun sounded again. The bicep tightened, dramatically limiting air.

"Fuckin' get off her, arsehole!" Recognizing Aaron's voice was a sheer relief, gasping for air when the arm constricted around your neck released suddenly. However, the momentum made you stumble to the ground at the same time for the goon's dead body to drop right next to you. His wide, dead eyes stared unseeingly at you, forcing a shiver down your spine and for your stomach to knot.

"Jesus Christ, oh, my God, oh, my God, oh, my God," you panted, scrambling when blood spread closer.

"C'mon, love, c'mere, c'mere," Tangerine grunted, hauling you to your feet and protectively keeping you to his side. Being in front of you now, you could note the blood on his button up, how the robber's own punches had bruised and bloodied his face; figuring you looked somewhat similar. "Right, listen please, need yah t'do somethin' for me, love," he kept a sharp eye out for other threats as he tugged up one of his trouser legs. He pulled out the gun strapped in the holster, handing it to you with the instruction, "Shoot first, answers later. Yeah? Hey?"

You nodded and accepted the weapon, unlocking the safety. "I have to find Mum and Oisín," you worried, men and women screaming as the brutal fight continued.

"Just stay close, love, 's fuckin' madhouse - FUCK!" He snapped, aiming and firing at a man racing for you two. "C'mon, we gotta move, gotta get you out of here - right to the fuck now - "

Your gun sounded, Tangerine watching another robber drop only feet away. He pushed you through the people, both with your heads on a swivel; working in tandem to clear the banquet hall of robbers and direct survivors to get out. Your curly-haired boyfriend held one of the robbers by the neck and repeatedly punching his face into a pulp after the other man had attempted to snatch you, too.

Nobody came remotely close to you again, not when Tangerine was on guard; protecting you, defending you, killing for you. The skin on his bare knuckles had split open, but Tangerine didn't even notice; he just moved on to the next threat.

Soon, the gunfire ceased, leaving a ringing in survivor's ears, and after a quick look around the room, Tangerine confirmed the threats were all eliminated - but so were several guests of the charity gala.

You gasped in guilt, hand slapping over your mouth when you nearly tripped over Lisa's body; bullet holes shredding her flesh.

"Bruv," Lemon panted, approaching the two of you and making Tan flinch. "Woah, hey, easy, 's just me," he held his hands up, your lover sighing in relief and keeping you sheltered behind him. "You two good?" Brian asked, sheen of sweat coating his skin.

"You hit, love? Hey?" Tangerine looked down at you, keeping one arm around you and his body at a protective angle. "Shit, your face - your fucking face, sweetheart, look at me, look at me, lemme see," he frowned, holstering his gun to take both your cheeks in his hands and look for other injury.

"I'm okay, promise I'm not hurt," you panted, hands trembling. "Are you two?"

"I'm good," he nodded, eyeing Lemon. "Yeah?"

"Good, yeah, I'm good," Brian confirmed, "but I got some bad news. Looks like they got the banker. I can't tell if they made off with the money or not."

"They couldn't've, we only accepted checks tonight," you explained. "No cash, no assets to steal."

"Take it that's not public knowledge," Lemon sighed. "Probably thought they could rob y'all blind in one move, thinkin' tonight would have cash donations."

You sniffled, "You seen my family?"

"Uh," Lemon looked around, nodding, "yeah, your dad's over there."

Peering around Tangerine's form, you located your father slowly stalking around the room; taking note of the dead bodies left behind, survivors clearing out into the hallways. Fallon made his way up to you three, your voice trembling, "Daddy? You all right? Where's Mum and Oisín?"

"They're safe, with the paramedics," he reported, instantly taking you in his embrace. "Ah, fuck, lost sight of yah in this mess, had me worried, girl."

"I'm sorry."

"Nah," he whispered, caressing the back of your head, "don't apologize, you ain't do nothin'." He took a breath, keeping you caressed to his shoulder, "Gotta admit, felt a helluva lot better knowin' your man had your six." You pulled back slowly, watching your father sigh and nod at the Twins, admitting, "Thank you for protectin' my daughter, don't know how t'repay yah."

"Wasn't nothin' to it, sir," Tangerine assured, adjusting his suit jacket, "just wanted to protect my woman."

"I saw," he nodded. "You boys okay?"

"Yes, sir," Lemon nodded, Tangerine doing the same.

"Very good... Then I think I owe you an apology," your father told Tan, shocking you - not knowing the last time you ever heard you father admit to an apology.

"Not necessary, sir, I understand," Tan deflected, skin glistening in a thin sheen of sweat, blood dabbed around from the robber's fists, "I'm just relieved your family's safe."

"No, listen, I was wrong," Fallon admitted, "sayin' all that shit to you - about you. You know, makin' my assumptions, goin' based on rumors. You've got a bit of a reputation, I was just tryna protect my daughter from gettin' her heart broke." He sighed, shaking his head, "Can protect her from damn near everything - except the complications of her own heart; the woes of a relationship."

"I understand, sir."

"But seein' you tonight, fightin' for her, fightin' to get back to her... I was wrong," Fallon sighed, offering his hand. When Tan shook it, your father offered, "For what it's worth, you've got my permission to... Continue whatever this is. Any lad willing t'put themselves in harms way for my girl is all right in my books."

"I appreciate that," Tangerine sniffled, meeting your eye and smirking slightly. "Your daughter means a lot t'me, swear I won't make yah regret givin' us your approval."

Fallon sighed, nodding, "Yeah, all right, good. 'Cause she's precious to me, you know? I'll fuckin' gut you if you hurt her."

"I believe it," Tan sighed, a single twinge of nervousness to his tone, "but you don't gotta worry, sir, right, 'cause last thing I want is t'hurt the woman I love. She's precious to me, too."

"Right, good, uh, well... Thank you, both, for helping tonight. Would've been a fuckin' bloodbath without yah."

You frowned, gazing around the marble floors, "Still a bloodbath, ain't it? Half our men are dead, several investors... Daddy, who the fuck were these men?"

"That's what I'm gonna find out," he growled, his surviving personnel taking note of the event-room-turned-battlefield, slowly starting to move bodies. Little known fact: the hotel had an industrial size furnace in the boiler room - somewhere your father could burn bodies without the police being tipped off.

"Th-They said something about a ransom," you told the trio in a trembling tone, "about ransoming me back to you, Daddy. Said you wouldn't pay if I was injured, so they shouldn't rough me up."

"Hey," Tan whispered, pulling you into his side securely, "don't gotta worry 'bout that - know there's nowhere for anyone to hide you that I wouldn't find."

Fallon actually liked that sentiment, watching you nod and for your lover to hold you securely and placing a kiss to your forehead. So, he asked, knowing the answer, "Can I trust you to take care of my daughter, lad?"

"Absolutely."

"Don't make me regret this."

"Not in this lifetime, sir."

"Good. I'll find you lot in the mornin', get gone."

After a brief reunion with your mother and brother, learning they were uninjured and safe, you boyfriend finally opened the door to the hotel room you two had been assigned. Lemon was right next door, and when you entered, your luggage was left on the bed for you both. It was quiet as you both cleaned up and prepared for bed; silent tears trickling down your cheeks, mind replaying the night's events over and over and over... Like a never ending nightmare.

In the shower, you sat on the floor with arms tight around your knees, Tangerine sitting with you as warm water cascaded; cocooning steam around you. Blood washed off in waves of pink, circling the drain; your boyfriend gently massaging your body with a washcloth, discovering a scattering of injury - some still open and weeping. He was forced to blink back tears when your neck revealed a significant bruise; considering it a reminder of his failure to protect you, not knowing you felt the direct opposite and knew, if he hadn't been there, things would've been much, much worse.

When you joined Aaron in bed, the silence continued. Your heads laid on plush, stark white pillows; on your sides to stare at one another with hands clasped together between you. No words were needed, no explanation or thanks necessary, neither feeling the need to speak on what happened that night. Tangerine let go of your one hand, slowly reaching out to caress your cheek and jaw, fingertip tracing soft lines; shuffling closer to rest his cut forehead on yours.

In the dark of the room, over the sounds of the humming air conditioner unit, Tangerine whispered, "I love you, doll."

"I love you, too, Aaron. Thank you for... You know, tonight... All you did."

"You being safe, in my arms, is enough thanks."

"I-I'm glad you were here."

He nodded in agreement, "So am I. Don't know what I'd of done if I wasn't - if I had t'hear about this later... If they had succeeded in snatching you. Might not have been able to forgive myself."

"Good thing we don't have to know." Your eyes danced between his, admitting, "I don't think I want t'go without you, love. I don't think I feel secure unless you're with me."

"Yeah?" He smirked slightly, "That your way of sayin' you wanna spend more time with me?"

"Might be my way of sayin' I wanna spend all my time with you," you whispered, tears glazing your eyes. "And Daddy approves, so we don't have to sneak around anymore, right?"

"Right, get yah all t'myself," Tan agreed softly. "We'll talk in the morning, sweetheart, yeah?" He stretched slightly to peck your lips, encouraging, "Get some rest, Bunny. 'S been a helluva night."

Tangerine made you feel safe, he protected you and killed for you - so while you were unsure how sleep would find you when your mind was plagued with replaying chaotic memories from that evening, you let yourself relax.

requesting rules and masterlist

Bullet Train masterlist

[mossy-green-aka-ferrythem]

I like. Have not played a single Hoyo game so it is quite shocking to see people take deeper looks into the games and their themes to uncover just how DEEPLY racist Hoyoverse is.

When I say racist I mean like. Painting this fantasy, ideal, "aesthetic" world that only wears the face of multiculturalism, while explicitly making it so all the heroes and good characters are white, while making the enemy characters typically with a darker shade of skin. Like just. In fucking Genshin. Look at the Hilichurls. They've literally got pitch black skin and masks, and despite having their own culture, are constantly and consistently treated nothing more as "pests". Like just. I swear to god there are so many "Hilichurl" like examples of weaving weird racism into video game enemies in the wider media sphere, but I digress.

What really gets me is like. I saw some shit from fucking Honkai or whatever where there is an entire character who was born black, but bleached her skin out of shame. Like. What. Also this is all second hand, so forgive me for getting details wrong, but doesn't she just. Keep hating herself for her skin color and her heritage? Also the way her mother is drawn is just like. Somehow both a racist and transphobic caricature rolled into one. Like they illustrated her in a way that doesn't feel done in good taste. It fees like they want to evoke a sense of confusion and maybe disdain. Perhaps they wish for you to sympathize with the girl who bleached her own skin (???) and like. What the fuck is this writing HOW DO PEOPLE JUST NOT GIVE A FUCK ABOUT THIS??????

Also. There is of course ZZZ. The issue here is more what people have already mentioned and something I don't feel like fully relaying. Which is the sort of heavy emphasis and inspiration from Hip-Hop and Rap culture, but without any black characters actually in the setting. Ben Bigger is like. Legit the blackest character there, problem is that he ISN'T HUMAN. Like it shows that they would sooner create an anthropomorphic bear, a fantasy character, than a black character that actually displays their culture in a proud way. Not really my place to say all of this, since others have said it much better than I ever could. Last thing I would say is that the Black edits of the characters (especially Ellen Joe), make the character designs leagues better.

To cap off this messily organized tumblr post and rant, it brings me to my biggest issue: erasure. The fact that when you search up Tighnari, you only get that dogshit anime boy, hell, the issue even still persists somewhat when you specify for Al-Tighnari. I am not well read on who Tighnari is, but even skimming past a description of that man is truly breathtaking. He sounds like a very well traveled, very wise man who likely had a sizable impact on the world. Thing is. When you search up Tighnari you don't see this man anywhere. When you bring up Tighnari, it is unlikely people actually recognize who the man himself was. Instead you have this character, who's skin is as white as a sheet, actively acting like a shroud being thrown over an old cultural icon. His design has been criticized endlessly for how little it lines up, but that's not the point. The point being is that Tighnari in Genshin has uprooted knowledge of the original in the public eye. This is but one example, and doesn't even BEGIN to touch upon the absolute shitshow that is Natlan. However, people have already exhaustively described what is wrong with it so I digress there. Oh and I said I would close this out but like. Fucking Star Rail or whatever has a character with Dark Skin who has "shacklebreaker" as one of their main skills and like. This is some J.K. Rowling type racism. Like what. What the fuck?

Look what's really important here is that I am just so fucking taken aback by learning the extent of it. I always bore a minor grudge against Genshin, but the clarification, and the knowledge of how deep this shit goes... just makes me realize this. There is no longer any confusion about how this got so popular, because racism is excusable in general fandom spaces. Racism isn't considered a dealbreaker to many people, and that is the root of the issue I believe. How general online fandom communities and people as consumers are just so unbothered by racism that they will just not criticize it, pass it off as normal, and will actively engage in racist tendencies, rather than making any effort to better themselves and to be more tasteful in what they choose to support financially, and what they choose to consume.

[twinsarekeepers]

I’m curious as to your honest thoughts on the show? Like I love pjo and all but the show was a bit of a let down writing wise. There’s always the point of “it’s an adaptation, not a carbon copy” like yes but this new writing isn’t exemplary better than the book just because it’s rewritten by the author himself

I think the show is well-written not because Rick is attached to it, but because I actually like the way the writers are approaching adapting the source material. I have a lot of issues with the original books in terms of writing quality because frankly speaking, I don’t think Rick is a very good writer. He has a lot of interesting things in those books that he never explores or drops within the first two and this fandom gives him and the books too much credit imo.

This is why I’m not very moved when people try to ascribe meaning to a certain scene or choice he made in the books to get mad at the show for changing. As an example, one of the main things people were upset about was the kids “knowing everything” in the show when they were getting tricked left and right in the book. Many posts were dedicated to how the book version is superior because it illustrates how they’re just twelve years old kids so of course they’ll make mistakes and get tricked by monsters.

That’s a perfectly fine interpretation but I was twelve years old when I first read tlt and I was able to anticipate almost every single trap, despite being pretty gullible and naive at that age. My knowledge of Greek mythology consisted of Disney’s Hercules, maybe two Google searches, and my second grade teacher’s reading of the kid friendly version of the Odyssey. No where near the level of Percy who’d been learning for a whole year in an established class on the topic with Chiron or Grover who was literally a satry born into the world or Annabeth, who spent the majority of her life dedicated to studying specifically quests and Greek mythology and was also on the run fighting monsters for a good portion of her childhood. Like twelve year olds can be dumb but those three stumbling into every trap was asking me to suspend my disbelief too far. I remember being upset that they weren’t able to figure it out because it was obvious that Rick wasn’t making that choice to show any personality flaws or character dynamics (because he would’ve had them learn and grow but they never did they just kept being not smart), he just wasn’t able to figure out a way for them to fall into those traps organically so he had to dumb them down.

I think the show was able to get across the characters’ childishness without compromising their established backstories. Yes, Annabeth knew it was Medusa right away because that makes sense for a kid who has experience with running into monsters. But, she still acted very much like a child in her interactions with her (and throughout the episode and season). She lashed out and called her a liar and wouldn’t listen to her side of the story because it painted her mother in a bad light. That’s peak twelve year old behavior.

Yes, Percy figured out Kronos was behind everything, but it makes sense because Percy knows Greek mythology and where Kronos resides. He still very much acts like a child when he asks Hades to give him back his mom in exchange for nothing because it’s the right thing to do.

There are dozens of examples like this for a lot of complaints of the show. And this is not me saying that the show is perfect: every single show has flaws. For me, I wasn’t the biggest fan of the dialogue or the exposition dumping. It didn’t hinder my enjoyment though because I don’t think it was egregious (and wrt the exposition dumping, I expected it because the book did it and there’s really no way to “show not tell” Greek myths). I also didn’t like that we didn’t get to really see the huge clashes between Zeus and Poseidon in the weather (we got references to it through news reports but I would’ve liked something more). I was able to look past it because I really liked the storytelling and the themes the show was pulling out of the original source material.

I loved Medusa-Sally parallels and Medusa-Annabeth parallels. I loved the juxtaposition of Pan’s quest to manifest density. I loved Percy and Annabeth’s opposite trajectory in respect to their relationships with their godly parents. I loved exploring Sally’s choice to send Percy to school instead of camp. I loved explicitly coding Annabeth as autistic. I loved Luke’s backstory being brought earlier into the story. I loved the deadline passing and Poseidon surrendering to save Percy. I loved Persues-Andromeda and percabeth parallels. I loved fleshing Grover out. I loved glory vs home seeking being the central theme of the show.

And lastly, I was able to understand that with a limited number of episodes and run time (due to the nature of child labor laws!), they did the best they could and I feel like they did a pretty good job for a first season.

These are not ALL of my thoughts on the show because that would be a very long post. I gave one detailed example of why I think the show succeeded in something the fandom tries to ascribe the books and it was like three paragraphs lol. Anyway this is not the post to try and convince me that the show is bad for whatever reason you have cooked up. I’m not going to change my mind and I doubt I’ll change yours. Here’s to a season 2 that builds on a solid season 1!

[libraryofgage]

PJO Steddie Part Three

Part One | Part Two

I hope y'all are ready for some backstory in this bitch hfdjsk

Anyway, we learn some more godly parents, but one remains a mystery for now.

Also, if you like my writing, maybe consider commissioning me! I have, like, student loans hitting harder than I'd like, so I've opened commissions on ko-fi. You can read more about prices and such in this post.

Anyway, hope you have fun reading! And, as always, if you see any typos no you didn't ;)

---

Getting to Athens, Tennessee, had required a mix of bus rides, a single divine taxi ride, and a pair of knock-off winged shoes that Eddie should probably put out of their misery before they get him killed. Getting back to camp, thankfully, only requires the van Steve and the kids use to get around.

Said van, at first glance, looks like a hunk of junk. It seems to have stepped right out of the 80s, its paint is faded and scratched with dents in more than a few spots, and the wheels look about two tiny potholes from popping. As they get closer, Steve pulls a key ring from his pocket, and Eddie notices that it's a physical key and not one of the wireless fobs.

When they get inside, though, the whole van is transformed. The seats are made of the softest leather Eddie has ever felt, there are seven in the back for all the kids to be comfortable without arguing about space, and the sheer number of cup holders is enough to bring Eddie near tears. "This is fucking metal," Eddie says, practically melting into the passenger seat as the kids buckle up in the back and Steve starts the van.

"I got it after we outgrew my BMW," Steve says, shrugging as he checks on the kids and Eddie before pulling out of the parking lot.

"Steve says it's a surprise gift from our father," El pipes up from the back.

"Yeah," Dustin says, his voice excited as he leans forward and pokes his head between Steve and Eddie, "Cuz he doesn't know he bought it!"

Steve snorts and pushes down the bill of Dustin's cap as he heads towards the highway.

"So, is Zeus your dad, too?" Eddie asks, twisting around to look at El.

"No. Steve and I share a human father," El explains.

Even without looking, Steve can feel Eddie's confusion. "I try not to think about how I came into being," he says. "Just know our father seems to be a bit of a slut for Greek mythological figures."

"Wait," Eddie says, waving his hand, "does that mean Zeus was, like, a woman? Is Zeus your mother?"

"No clue. Like I said, I prefer not to think about it," Steve says again, shooting Eddie a look.

And Eddie drops it despite his growing questions. When a gorgeous boy tells you to stop asking about the impossibility of his birth, you shut up and listen.

A while later, as Steve is about to drive over the Tennessee state line and the kids doze off in the back, Eddie glances at Steve and shifts in his seat. His leg starts to bounce, his fingers drumming against his knee, as he tries to figure out which question to ask first. Eventually, he ends up blurting out, "So how did you manage to not die?"

Steve blinks and snorts, stifling the rest of his laughter so he doesn't wake the kids. He glances at Eddie, an amused smile tugging at his lips. "Well, how much of the story do you want to hear?" he asks.

"All of it." Eddie wants to know everything about Steve. How has he kept all these kids alive and for how long? When did they start traveling the country like this? When did he learn about his heritage? What does he like? What does he hate? Does he believe in fated love and love at first sight?

Okay, that last one can probably wait a little longer. Like, two more days, at least.

Steve hums softly, tapping his thumb against the steering wheel as though he's trying to decide where to start. "I didn't know about Zeus until I was eleven," he finally says. "I only learned then because my dad couldn't figure out any other explanation for how lightning struck on clear days whenever I was angry at other kids."

"Didn't you have to deal with monsters?" Eddie asks.

"Yes. And no." Steve frowns, rubbing the back of his neck. "You know how in all those stories Zeus will change his form to get with all those women? Like, he'll become whatever he needs to get what he wants."

"I'm familiar, yeah."

"It's a little like that, but I don't change my form. I guess I change my vibe? I can make monsters think I'm the son of a lesser deity. It got even easier when El came along because monsters don't target her."

"Why not?" Eddie asks, perking up some. If El has somehow figured out how to make herself invisible to monsters, maybe other campers can learn, too.

Steve grimaces, and Eddie immediately pushes back the urge to push for more information when he says, "It's...complicated. Let's not get into it right now."

"Okay," Eddie says, flashing Steve what he hopes is a reassuring smile when Steve glances at him. "When did you meet El, then?"

"Five years ago now, when I was fifteen. El's mother showed up, dropped her off with me, threatened me with death if she ever got hurt, and then left. El was, like, just eleven at the time, and our dad was no help. He just shrugged it off and gave me a bigger allowance to care for her."

"Was he not around?"

"No. He...travels. We haven't spoken to him in four years. He hasn't tried speaking to us, either. Despite me literally being Zeus's kid, he can't exactly show me off or anything. And El...well, he can't take her to any functions, either."

Eddie nods, pushing down the urge to ask why. But Steve said he doesn't want to talk about it, so Eddie instead asks, "And what about the rest?"

Steve hums, merging into another lane. "Well, El and I stayed in place for about a year. Then we saw some weird snake monster dragging Will around like a road snack. We saved him, but I almost died. It was my first fight, you know? But I lived, obviously, and El and I agreed to take Will back to his hometown. School was one break anyway, so we just did a road trip in my BMW. We ran into Dustin and Mike along the way. Dustin had made these, like, mechanical wings, and Mike was goading him on to give them a try. We got to the cliff right as Dustin jumped off."

"Wait," Eddie says, holding his hand up to pause Steve's story. "Are you telling me the kid just...decided to recreate Icarus?" he asks.

"Yeah, pretty much. He thought he could actually succeed since he's so much smarter," Steve explains, getting an amused grin as he thinks of it. "Anyway, didn't work, obviously. Dustin fell but managed to catch himself on the cliffside, Mike was yelling his head off but not actually doing anything, and El just took off running toward them. Which meant I had to run toward them, too. So, Will is trying to calm Mike down, El is practically dangling herself over the cliff, and Dustin is lamenting the loss of his wings."

"How'd you rescue him?"

"I just climbed down myself," Steve says, shrugging like it's no big deal. "I had him get on my back and climbed up, chewed both kids out for doing something so dangerous, and then asked if they needed a ride home, which is how I found out they'd run away and were just wandering."

"Half-bloods running away is pretty common," Eddie says, sinking down in his seat as he watches the trees rush by in the darkness. "A lot of us don't feel understood by our human families, or we don't want to endanger them when monsters track us down."

Steve nods, gripping the steering wheel a little harder. "Yeah, that's what Dustin and Mike said, too. I couldn't just leave them alone, so I invited them to come with us. Mike and Will get along really well, and Dustin is a little shit, and it's good for El to have friends her own age, so it all worked out."

"That still leaves out three whole kiddos," Eddie says.

"Well, Lucas and Erica we met in Will's hometown. Their dad and Will's mom had found each other and, like, bonded over having demigod kids. When we brought Will back, we met Lucas and Erica at this, like, barbeque thing to celebrate him being safe. And their parents ended up suggesting that we continue the road trip so the kids could be around others like them before school started again."

"Usually," Eddie says, fiddling with one of his rings, "parents go two ways. They either get really obsessed with keeping their kids safe to the point they're never let out of the house, or they completely ignore and reject the godly influence. But it sounds like their parents weren't doing either of those."

"Having each other helped. There was someone they could turn to when they felt doubt or just wanted to complain. When you're isolated, though, you just do whatever you think will keep you going, even if it might hurt the people you care about."

"You put that...really well."

"I've had a lotta time to think about it," Steve admits, frowning slightly before sighing and continuing with the story. "Anyway, we met Max and her brother a few towns over. It's...not a great story, actually. Her brother was a dick, like, massively horrible. He had a lot of problems and took way too much after his godly father in terms of anger. We ended up fighting because of how he treated Max and it didn't end great, but Max joined us and that's when I realized we needed a new car because the kids were piled on top of each other in the back. We got this conversion van in the next town with my dad's credit card, and we've been traveling ever since."

It's a lot to take in, and Eddie can tell there's a lot that Steve is leaving unsaid, but he doesn't call him out for it. "Okay, so, the whole not dying thing?" he asks.

Steve snorts. "Well, when you're chaperoning a gaggle of demigods, you get good at fighting off monsters. We've also had some...help along the way from a few goddesses, though."

Eddie perks up, looking at Steve like he's an alien. "You got help from goddesses? Which ones?"

"Sometimes, I'll pray to Hestia and she'll direct us to a motel with vacancies that'll be safe for the night. Or, uh, Demeter. I'll pray to her and fruit will grow on some trees or something. Hecate treated us to lunch once, said she found us amusing, and thanked me for the entertainment. Nike, Lucas, Max, and I have all played basketball together. I mean, she smoked us, no question, but she's part of the reason this van can run a few more miles without any gas. Hera helped once, sorta."

"Hera helped you? Hera? The goddess notoriously known for hating children of Zeus? That Hera?"

"Yeah, kinda surprised me, too. But, I mean, she's also the goddess of motherhood or something, right? And all she really ever wants is Zeus to be faithful. I don't think it's too much to ask, and I can't imagine the bullshit she goes through because of him. Anyway, we were getting attacked by this hydra, and I was really struggling to protect the kids. I mean, those heads were practically tearing me apart. And then she just, like, walks up and flicks her hand and the thing is gone. She told me to do better and then, like, disappeared. Not the weirdest thing that's happened, but it's up there."

And Eddie is starting to understand how they're not dead. It's just Steve. Like the prophecy was just Steve. Somehow, he's managed to get himself into the good graces of several goddesses and get their help. It's not entirely unheard of to get a god's favor, but having so many just be genuinely interested in you is unthinkable.

Eddie gets it, though. Steve fascinates him. He's like a magnet that Eddie doesn't want to fight. "So, uh, the kids," Eddie says, trying to keep his mind from lingering on Steve and just how incredible he is, "Who are their parents?"

"Lucas and Erica are kids of Aphrodite."

"Oh, does she like you, too?" Eddie asks.

Steve frowns, looking like he's just been reminded of something sour and gross. "No, we're not on good terms," he says, his voice a little frosty, and Eddie's mouth is suddenly dry.

"Good to know," he manages, his voice a little strained.

"Anyway, Dustin is a child of Athena. Max's mom is Nemesis. Will's dad is Morpheus, and Mike's dad is Plutus. Which has worked out well for us, actually. He keeps finding money on the street whenever we really need it."

"What about El?"

"El's mother...is complicated. We don't really talk about her," Steve says, his words soft and pleading, and Eddie immediately zips his mouth shut, winking conspiratorially at Steve when he glances over.

Then he unzips his mouth and says, "You know, you're pretty metal, Stevie."

Steve laughs, quickly slapping a hand over his mouth and glancing in the rearview mirror to make sure the kids are still sleeping. When he sees that they are, he relaxes a little. "I've never been called metal before," he says, glancing at Eddie.

"Well, that's a shame. I'll be sure to tell you whenever you're being particularly metal, big boy."

"Big boy?" Steve asks, amusement clear in his voice, and Eddie suddenly worries that Steve doesn't actually like the nickname but it trying to play it off.

Unfortunately, the problem is that Eddie has never been one to filter himself. So when Steve calls him out for the nickname and he panics, Eddie's knee-jerk reaction is to say, "Oh, would you prefer something else? How about pretty boy? Sweetheart? Gorgeous? Handsome?"

Even though it's dark out, Eddie can still see the blush that spreads across Steve's cheeks, the way his fingers tighten on the wheel until his knuckles turn white. He's getting flustered, and Eddie feels himself getting flustered, too, at the idea that it's because of him. He suddenly wants to see what else he can say or do to make that blush spread, and he wants to know just how far it spreads beneath the collar of Steve's shirt.

"Just, uh, whatever you prefer, I guess," Steve mumbles, keeping his eyes resolutely focused on the road and missing Eddie's surprised expression. He does, however, sneak a glance just in time to see the surprise morph into an unbridled grin.

"Sure thing, sweetheart," Eddie says, leaning back in his seat and looking forward to spending the rest of this road trip discovering what makes his Stevie tick.

----

Tag List! There is still room, I think lol

@mugloversonly, @mentallyundone, @hairdryerducks-blog, @carriethesaint, @lunabyrd, @weekend-dreamer7, @farfaras, @littlelady03, @my-tears-are-becoming-a-sea20, @mogami13, @a-little-unsteddie, @itsall-taken, @queenie-ofthe-void, @tinyplanet95, @littlebluejane, @hangoversandhandgrenades, @rabbitwhoeatsstars, @bisexualdisastersworld, @steddieinthesun,

@paintgonewrong, @sadcanadianwinter, @deehellcat, @blanketlicker, @angrydonutdestiny, @booksareportal, @fallingchemicaldiscos

[mysterycitrus]

i know you've been talking about jason lately so i'll ask about smth different... robin jason (sorry)

idk idk lately i've been wanting to take a peek at his robin comics for the sake of writing fic (ofc...) but i'd like to hear what u think before that, a summary of sorts if u may (i also wanna contrast what u say with what i get out of it so yeah)

i feel like his robin days are so muddled by his identity as red hood later on, and even before that it was his death. u had people constantly blaming jason for dying in text (or else they'd have to admit bruce can make mistakes and everyone in dc is allergic to doing that) and painting him like someone reckless and violent (classist editorial u need to DIE), and then people in fanon painting him like a sweet fella who would do nothing wrong and as well as being bruce's Only Actual Son etc etc for the sake of making the situation around him all the more sadder (yeah yeah pathetic meow meow we've all seen it)

and i'm just curious bc i rlly wonder what the actual comics say about him, most likely something in the middle of this? exams are killing me but my god i'll come back to life after im done just to read jason robin's days... have a good day !!!

the difficulty with reading about jason as robin is that there are three primary periods that all differ fairly dramatically from each other — pre-crisis jason todd is a strawberry blond acrobat who’s almost adopted by dick grayson before becoming robin; post-crisis jason todd is a kid from crime alley who steals the wheels off the batmobile before becoming robin; and post-crisis, post-utrh jason todd is a very angry, very violent kid who becomes a cautionary tale after he gets himself killed (something he is often blamed for).

we can walk the line here. pre-crisis jason isn’t particularly relevant because so much of robin!jason’s stories depend on his reinvention after the reboot. all the crucial factors leading up to death in the family — growing up in the alley, both his mothers, his relationship with the robin mantle, his developing relationship with dick grayson, his slow schism from bruce, his relative isolation from other superheroes — are all crucial to who he is, especially after his death.

fanon about jason is annoying because there are valid criticisms that can be made about how he’s written with regressive, classist stereotypes, but as always it pivots way too far in one direction. jason wasn’t the “happy” or “angry” robin in the same way that dick wasn’t the happy or angry robin — they’re both characters that possess more than a single emotion. it’s true that jason was later written to be more explicitly violent (to contrast him with dick) but also like… they’re both pretty similar characters that differ in interesting ways. dick created robin to be a symbol of hope and joy. jason carried that on when he took up the mantle. they can both be angry at stuff without the world falling apart. it’s not that serious.

the dialogue about dick being a child soldier but jason being the true son makes me want to tear my hair out. jason became robin because bruce missed dick and was afraid of being alone. they’re both his gd kids. acting as though bruce wayne doesn’t love dick grayson so much that extra-dimensional beings can clock it is so fucking stupid. it once again ties into fanon’s obsession with each character only getting to be “one” thing. tim is smart, which means he’s the smartest. jason said robin made him magic, which means he’s happy all the time. dick chased after zucco in a grief spiral, which means he’s the violently angry one, with no other character traits. dick can’t have been nice to jason because he’s nice to tim, etc. seems a little silly, no?

i think i’ve only read jason’s brief run as robin once, though ive gone through a death in the family + a lonely place of dying a bunch of times, so ig my advice for reading him is to keep in mind the context in which he was created. dc comics was reeling from losing dick grayson as robin, and were really throwing anything at the wall to get something to stick. many, many negative tropes are baked into his introduction, and thanks to writers like jeph loeb and scott lobdell they have compounded over time. jason’s updated backstory is, with actual critical intent by the writer, a really good examination of how poverty and class will affect how someone views the world. his death was not his fault — and removing sheila haywood from that warehouse purposely makes his story less tragic. he was a good kid! and he was angry for a good reason. if jason had lived, i believe he would’ve carried on the robin tradition and left bruce behind once their differences became insurmountable.

[musings-of-a-rose]

I have a request. Im going deaf and use asl. Can you write a fanfic with Joel or Frankie or Javi or Marcus or Pedro being married to a deaf woman? Falling in love dating and marrying? Post outbreak? It can be trying at times for me to date. And I love the smut and fluff 😜 thanks

For You

Pairing: Javi G x ofc Ally

Word Count: 2700+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

Notes: I got a request from @jedi-in-crocs : I have a request. Im going deaf and use asl. Can you write a fanfic with  Joel or Frankie or Javi or Marcus or Pedro being married to a deaf woman? Falling in love dating and marrying? Post outbreak? It can be trying at times for me to date. And I love the smut and fluff 😜 thanks (Ally)

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**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

Javi G Masterlist 

Market day in Mallorca was always a beautiful affair. Rows and rows of tents adorned the streets, bursting with vibrant colors of fresh fruits and veggies, various paintings, clay jars and mugs, the smells of homemade snacks and treats filling the air as people bustled past each other, lightly bumping shoulders with each other as they set their eyes on something they want. 

But Javi's favorite row was for the flowers. Beautiful blooms and plants bursting from various pots and glass jars, some massive and sitting in large pots on the ground, other small and dangling in the air at the end of macrame chains. He stops to look at each and every one, touching some of the petals or leaves and smiling to himself before moving on to the next. 

But today is different. As he nears the middle of the row of tents and tables, he notices a new vendor. Her area was smaller than the others, but the plants and flowers she had were breathtaking. Bright colors and green leaves strategically placed on a couple of shelved hand carved wooden tables created this ambience of tranquility despite the bustling crowd. But this was nothing compared to the woman in front of him, straightening up from placing the last of her pots on the ground, gently dabbing at her brow to rid her skin of the few beads of sweat that had accumulated. She turns and jumps when she sees Javi staring at her. 

"Oh!I'm sorry I didn't see you. Welcome! Is there anything specifically you're looking for?"

He's momentarily speechless, her green eyes shining up at him, her face framed by her auburn hair, the sun catching it at the right angle and making it glow. 

"I… I don't.." Why can't he speak? She's staring at him, a friendly smile on her face as she studies him. 

"That's ok. Are you looking for a gift for someone? Your mom or significant other?"

"Oh, no. My mother has passed and I am not… I mean, I don't have…" Javi sighs. "I am single."

Is he imagining the slight flush to her cheeks at his answer? Her eyes flick away from his for a brief moment before returning, her cheeks still a slight shade of pink. 

"Well then.. are you new to plants?" Javi nods, trying to regain his composure. "Ok great. Then may I recommend…" She looks around for a few moments before reaching for a plant with green oval shaped leaves cascading down vines out of a small hanging planter. She turns and holds it out for him, his breath catching in his throat when their fingers touch briefly at the exchange. She clears her throat a moment layer, shaking her head. 

"I uh… this is a pothos. Very easy to take care of. Water once a week or so and make sure they get some light. They're pretty sturdy."

"Th-thank you, miss…"

"Ally." She extends her hand and Javi shifts the pot into his left hand, extending his right to shake hers, his body nearly shaking when they touch. He hears her breath catch as well. Could she feel the same? 

"I-"

"Hey lady! Do you have any monstera?" A large man pushes his way past Javi, nearly knocking him over to stand in front of Ally. 

"I uh…yes. Right here." As she shows him the plants, he proceeds for tell her some long winded tale of his own garden, her eyes flicking back to Javi apologetically. After several minutes it becomes clear that he won't be leaving soon and Javi had to head home for a meeting. He sighs, pulling out some money and setting it on the table for her. At the last minute he decided to write a little note, taking the pen and paper she had set there to make notes about plant care for people. 

I hope this is enough. I'll be back next weekend to make sure.

Javi leaves the paper and makes eye contact with Ally, her small, sad smile and nod indicating she saw him leave the money. 

Javi can't stop thinking about her all week. 

—----

Javi returns every weekend for 2 months. At first, he makes up excuses for coming, looking for plants, what does a slight discoloration mean, anything he can think of to talk to her. He's never been very good at flirting or picking up signals, but she laughs at all of his jokes, blushing whenever he compliments her, and he swears he's caught her more than once checking him out. 

One weekend, Javi decides enough of enough- it's time to ask Ally out. Mayne just for coffee so if she says no, he can cover it up as a just as friends coffee. Or a thank you coffee. Something. 

Javi walks to her stand, waiting a moment to watch her, back to him as she moves about arranging her plants, her fingers lightly brushing against petals and Javi imagines what it must feel like to have those same fingers brush against his skin, digging into his arms as they meld their bodies together…

He shakes his head. Now isn't the time for lewd thoughts. It wouldn't help his nerves. Javi stops at the entrance to her booth, giving her space to move about. 

"Hi Ally. Got anything new today?"

She doesn't turn around, still moving about her plants. Javi clears his throat a little louder than he normally would. Still, she doesn't move. No turning to give him her brilliant smile that warms him up. Did he do something wrong? Say something wrong? His brain works fast, playing through all of their interactions. Nothing seemed amiss. Could he have misread something? 

"She can't hear you." The vendor next to Ally says as she comes to stand next to Javi. 

"What?"

"Her aids are being repaired so she doesn't have them today."

His eyebrows pull together. "Aids?"

"Hearing aids. Did you not see them?"

He hadn't. He was too taken in by her sweet words and gorgeous eyes, her obvious love for the plants she so lovingly cares for. When he doesn't reply, the woman turns more towards him. 

"She's losing her hearing. It'll be totally gone one day, I think. At least that's what she told me. She taught me some basic signs too in case she didn't have her aids. Lovely girl."

Javi watches the back of Ally, still tending the plants she loves so much. "I have to go. Can you tell her 'Javi has some work to do but he'll be back soon?'" 

The woman nods and Javi thanks her, turning promptly on his heel and heading straight for his car, pulling out his phone to call his assistant to help him with his task. 

—----

A month later, Javi nervously approaches Ally's booth. What if she's mad at me? I hope I did not distress her too much. He swallows hard, taking the last few steps to her booth, watching her brush dirt from her hands, fingers rubbing gently on the gardening apron she always wore. She turns and sees him, eyes locking on his as she freezes, her eyes studying him, her focus slightly upset. She opens her mouth to speak but before she can, Javi raises his hands, willing the nerves to leave him as he starts to move. 

[Signed]"I am sorry I have not come. Your neighbor-" He points to the lady in the next booth over. "- told me about your hearing and how you use ASL-"

Her eyes well up. [Signed] "You know ASL?"

Javi shakes his head. [Signed] "I didn't. I spent the last month starting to learn it for you."

Pure shock flashes across her face as she points to herself. [Signed] "For me? Why?"

Javi takes a few steps towards her, closing the distance between them. He brushes a short strand of her auburn hair from her face, the sunlight glinting slightly off of the tiny tube connecting her hearing aids to the ear mold and he smiles, meeting her eyes. 

[Signed] "Because I always want to be able to talk to you, hear your thoughts. Anything you have to say."

Their eyes lock onto each other and he glances down at her lips, slightly parted. He brings his hands up slowly to cup her cheeks, giving her every chance to pull back. Instead, she grips his shirt, pulling him closer as their lips meet, soft and wanting. He wraps an arm around her, pressing his tongue to her lips as she eagerly responds. After several seconds, the lady in the booth next to Ally clears her throat and Javi pulls back, glaring slightly at the woman. Ally follows his gaze and looks at the woman, who is now smirking. Javi puts his finger on Ally's cheek, turning her head back to his. 

[Signed] "Will you have dinner with me?"

Ally smiles wide, brightening the entire area and warming Javi up as she nods enthusiastically. "I'm free tonight?"

Javi chuckles. "I'll pick you up at 8 for dinner."

—-----

Javi thinks he's never seen someone more beautiful than her. The dress she wore fits her perfectly, enhancing her physical features, but it's more than that. As Javi listens to her talk about cross pollination, he watches her confidence grow with her excitement about her plants, a non stop stream of words and he drinks in every one, his chin leaning on his fist as he watches her, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. 

"And oh my God I've been talking the whole time, haven't I?" She blushes, hiding her face behind her hands, elbows propped on the table.

"No, no. Please continue. I love watching you talk."

She lowers her hands and looks at him. "Watching me talk?"

"Yes. The way your passion for what you do pours out of you, touching anyone near you." 

Her face heats up more and she fans herself for a moment. "You flatter me too much, Javi." 

He catches her eye and signs. "That's because I really like you."

As dinner continues, he learns more about her. Her childhood, how she ended up in Mallorca, how her illness is causing her to lose her hearing, eventually a total loss. So she wanted to spend time listening to the small sounds, the way the wind moves through pine needles, the way water splashes against the leaves, the way grass flows against the breeze. 

"Can I show you something?" Javi asks as he nervously offers his arm to Ally as they exit the restaurant. She takes it almost instantly, leaning into him and making his ears feel warm. 

"Of course. Anywhere you'd like to go, I'm there."

Javi helps her into his jeep, driving back towards the compound. The guards let him in and he drives down the winning dirt road, turning down a nearly hidden path. He follows it down until it clears a little, overlooking the water. He reaches behind him, grabbing a thick blanket from the backseat before getting out of the jeep, walking around to offer his hand to Ally, helping her out of the jeep. Their fingers lace together as she follows him towards a small, clear space where he puts the blanket down, spreading it out. He offers his hand again, grinning at Ally as she sits, laying down next to him when he lays down. 

"You see those stars there?" He points to the sky and Ally follows his fingers, squinting at the rapidly darkening sky. 

"Yeah I think so."

"That's the Scorpius constellation."

"Really?"

"No idea."

She laughs, turning her head to him and finding him already looking at her, a faint smile on his face. She watches him back, eyes roaming over his handsome face, with his prominent nose and curls you just want to touch. She leans in and Javi meets her halfway, their lips crashing together as she slides her fingers around his head, tugging at the curls at the back of his neck. Javi feels his pants tighten even more and he pulls back, his eyes moving between hers, his eyebrows raised in question. She replies by gripping his shirt, pulling him to her as she unbuttons his shirt, sliding it off his broad shoulders, only breaking the kiss for Javi to toss his shirt somewhere over his shoulder, both of them giggling as he lays her back, slotting himself between her spread legs. 

He holds himself above her, his soft lips pressing to hers as he grinds himself against her, feeling her heat beneath his pants. Then her fingers are at his pant line, fumbling to open his button and the kiss breaks, his forehead pressed to hers as she manages to open the button, sliding his pants down just enough for him to spring out, hard and wanting. He pulls his head back just enough to look at her, his own lust echoed in the depths of her eyes.

[Signed]”Are you sure?”

She nods. “Yes. Please, Javi, I need you.”

He slides his hand up her bare thigh, pressing his fingers between her thighs and moaning as he feels how wet she is for him, her own moan at his light touch mixing with his. She grips his hand, showing him how to touch her, his thick fingers sending jolts of pleasure out from where he touches her. But then he pushes her panties aside, Ally silently grateful for wearing a dress as he touches her, his skin on hers, sliding his fingers and touching her how she showed him. Her release comes from nowhere, a loud gasp and moan coming from her as her back arches, her body tensing with pleasure. Her back lowers, her chest heaving as she looks up at Javi, his eyes nearly black in the low light and she wraps her legs around him, trying to get him to move. He smiles and presses his hips forward, slowly pushing into her as he watches her face contort with pleasure at the feel of him stretching her open, small pants puffing out into his face until he bottoms out. Javi stays like that, pulling out only a little before pushing in, just to give her a moment, until he feels her hands grasping at his back, her heels digging into his ass and he gets the hint. He sets a comforting pace, not too rough and not too light, adding in his signature thrust that has her pulsing around him, his name tumbling from her lips as he comes with her, unable to resist the feel of her engulfing him. 

They stay like that for several minutes, her fingers lightly tracing a mindless pattern across his sweaty, bare back, their breathing syncing together. Slowly, Javi pulls out, a hiss on his lips as he pats at the ground for his shirt, helping to clean her up with it before himself. He chucks the shirt on the ground again, laughing lightly with Ally before laying back down, pulling her close to him as he feels her hand on his chest. He presses a kiss to the top of her head as they watch the stars. 

6 months later, they get married, happy to spend the rest of their days with each other, thankful that Javi stopped in the market that day.

—----

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[miaajaade]

The Line Between Love and Hate-

III

Aemond Targaryen X Targaryen!F!OC (Rhaenyra and Daemon’s Daughter)

Previous: Prologue I II next: IV

A/N: ok so I finally got myself to where the story actually differs greatly to house of the dragon and the more creative juices need to flow I have no idea where this is going and I’m sorry if it sucks bad!

Series warnings: Age gap (both characters are of age), incest (Targaryen), death, future smut, slow-ish burn.

No minors under cut:

Everyone on Dragonstone were in high spirits after their journey, save of course for Visenya's father who was slow to trust anything the Hightowers did. Visenya was teaching her younger brothers Valyrian when it was announced that Rhaenys Valaryon had arived on dragon back. Rushing to greet her, Visenya found her mother and Daemon with grave looks on their faces.

"The greens are coming for you Rhaenyra." Visenya was confused at this, we had made peace she thought.

"Mother what is it? What's happening?" She went to her mothers side holding her hand.

"Your grandfather, Viserys, he's dead." Visenya looked at her confused, "They have crowned Aegon in front of the masses, they have usurped my throne."

"What? How? Why?" Visenya had questions bouncing back and forth in her mind, no single thought sticking. Someone had gone to fetch her brothers Daerion and Viserys who were sparring on the beach.

Later Ser Errick arrived, everyone stood on edge wondering why a kingsguard was on dragonstone. Daemon was ready to burn him, but he had always been slightly trigger happy. The knight produced King Viserys I crown, proclaiming that he fought for his queen. There and then they had a small ceremony for those on Dragonstone, crowning Rhaenyra as the Queen of Westeros. This moment signified that a war was very likely to come.

In preparation for what this may mean for them Her mother had tasked the boys to go to Storms End and Winterfell to remind the lords of their sworn fealty to her all those years ago when Rhaenyra was first named heir. Visenya begged her mother to let her go as well, but her mother had none of it, saying that she needed her on Dragonstone. For what, Visenya had no idea.

A Raven from Storms End arrived days later. Visenya had been in the chamber of the painted table with her mother when her father walked in whispering in her mothers ear. All Visenya could hear were the heartbreaking sobs of her mother. She could only think the worst. Viserys was dead.

"Mother? I- how?" Visenya's eyes were brimming with tears at the news she already knew.

" Aegon.. he had gone to Storms End himself, offering marriage to either Aemond or one of his sons. He chased Viserys on Sunfyre. Sunfyre clipped Arrax's wing and Viserys he.. he fell." She had continued on to tell her that Visery's body was dragged out of the water, and was being sent brought back to Dragonstone. Visenya couldn't believe it, she broke down in sobs as her mother brought her close and held her until she could breath. A raven was quickly sent off to Winterfell to bring Daerion back for the funeral. Rhaenyra announced that nothing would be done until the funeral, but Daemon wanted Aegon's head on a spike. Rhaenyra had none of this ordering Daemon to stand down, to mourn the death of his son. She needed him. Visenya in all her years had never seen her father as distraught as he was now.

Visenya had hoped there would be a day when her family could commune and be peaceful. Although she held disscontempt for her uncles she had never felt they had done anything unforgivable to her or her family. After the news from today however, she knew she could never stand the sight of either of them again. The only thing that filled her heart was hatred for the greens. She spent the rest of her days until the funeral hiding in her chambers. She often sat by the window, remembering the childhood she had shared with Viserys and how she longed to go back to simpler times.

The funeral was simple, just their family standing at the pyre offering items belonging to Viserys as they sent him off. As he burned we stood there, drowning in grief but ready to seek revenge for our fallen blood. Visenya was going to do whatever it took to avenge her brother. She would burn them all to the ground. She didn’t care how she would do it, only that she would dedicate her life to bringing him justice.

Unbeknownst to her however, Alicent sent a letter to Rhaenyra. A letter that Rhaenyra would take into consideration, a letter that would change Visenyas life.

My dear friend,

My heart breaks for you, for the loss of your son. A loss I could only imagine. A loss that would reduce to me nothing. I know I take fault in his death. But I am begging you. As a mother and your childhood companion to meet with me. I will come alone, you may bring who you wish. I want to offer you a solution to our perils, one that will not end in the death of anymore of our lineage. I want to offer you marriage, offer you the iron throne for one of your children. Please just give me the chance to explain my proposal.

With love,

Your Alicent

[mxlfoydraco]

I swear I liked a drarry reclist from you for this, but now I can't find it :x do you have any recs for drarry fics where Draco has muggle friends or embraces a more muggle lifestyle? Bonus points if Draco is gay in them because it pulls me out of the story if he has a single straight man thought....(I mean really....the audacity)

First of all, same. Second, I have a list, Draco in the Muggle World, I'm adding on:

Draco in the Muggle World Pt.2

The Liars Department by DorthyAnn (103k)

This is a story about Harry meeting up with Draco Malfoy four years after the war. And a story about Harry, well, not hating his job per say, but it's not like he has much to compare it to and it seemed fine. His whole life seemed fine. Then Malfoy came along with and his flashy suits and fast car making everything seem dull in comparison, and Harry... Harry couldn't just leave well enough alone.

Modern Love by @tackytigerfic (61k)

Harry Potter, of all people, knows that life isn’t always fair. And no one gets to be happy all of the time. But surely there’s something more—something better—than a rubbish Ministry job, and a lonely old house, and that feeling that everyone out there is doing a better job of living than Harry is. And it really doesn’t seem fair that Draco Malfoy is back in Harry’s life, all of a sudden, and even though he’s wandless, and living with Muggles, and making his mother cry with his lifestyle choices, he’s happy. So what’s he doing right, that Harry isn’t? Because things don’t really change, do they? And if Harry can’t be happy, he’ll settle for a good night’s sleep, some posh antiques, and the opportunity to find out what Malfoy has been up to for all these years. And that’s what starts it all.

Knead by @jovialobservationanchor (83k)

This is not a story about Harry renovating Grimmauld Place. This is a story about coffee shops and brewpubs, about Ginny and Luna on a farm with creatures, about magical Oregon, coastal road trips, flying, friendship, and Draco Malfoy’s lean arms.

The Man Who Lived by @e-sebastian (253k)

Draco breaks a cup, and one thing leads to another. A story of redemption, tattoos, dreams, mistakes, green eyes, long conversations, and copious amounts of coffee.

Set in New York twelve years after the war.

find a new place to be from by @oflights (47k)

Something is wrong with Malfoy Manor, and it’s driven Draco into the Muggle world. Thankfully, Harry is now on the case. A story about houses that haunt you and homes built for two.

you bring me home by @softlystarstruck (35k)

Harry is happy. He has his cat cafe and his hobbies. He has his friends, and Dolly Parton, and a shirt with a cowboy frog on it. It’s all a man needs, really. He doesn’t need to obsess over a magic-less, anxious Draco Malfoy coming into his cafe after disappearing from the wizarding world years ago. He doesn’t. Not even if the cats like Malfoy. Not even if Malfoy is soft, and funny, and a little bit neurotic. No matter how much he wants to obsess.

Sourdough by @academicdisasterfic (17k)

Draco writes romance novels and doesn’t leave his apartment much. Harry bakes bread and sells it to Draco. Draco is quite weird. Harry might like that.

Make Yourself by @anyaelizabethfic (103k)

Harry just wants to be safe within the freshly painted walls of Grimmauld Place, with his friends around him. But when he hears Draco Malfoy has been spotted at the local soup kitchen, he can’t help but encourage a different type of stray to come under his roof.

Star Quality by who_la_hoop (118k)

Two years after the war, and Harry’s content with his life. OK, so it’s a little annoying that he keeps winning Witch Weekly’s Most Eligible Bachelor award, and he’s really not looking forward to the unveiling of an enormous gold statue of himself, but he loves his friends, and he loves being an Auror. And if he yearns for something more, something he can barely bring himself to think about, well, he’ll probably get over it. No one’s happy all the time, are they? But then everything changes, and Harry’s thrown into a new and dazzling world he’s not sure he can actually escape from. And as time goes on, he starts to wonder: does he actually want to?

Rebel, Rebel by @makeitp1nk (28k)

Thirty-six year old Harry Potter is the coolest bloke in muggle Camden Town. That’s right — he’s left the wizarding world behind and has been living his best life ever since. But will one chance encounter with a certain blond from his past change everything? Yeah, probably.

(Un)wanted by @aibidil (36k)

Ginny's pregnant, then she's not and Harry's single. Harry, again with no family, doesn't know what to do with this turn of events, or how to find a new life—post-war, post-Ginny, post-abortion—in which he belongs. He doesn't expect that life to include dancing to the Backstreet Boys with Hermione and Draco Malfoy. A story of finding belonging in the unexpected.

The Miseducation of Draco Malfoy by @magpiefngrl (37k)

Zacharias Smith writes a tell-all about the D.A. Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy are not happy about it.

Had To Be You by @lettersbyelise (59k)

Draco Malfoy is possibly the last person Harry expects to find at the wheel of a Muggle car, on a beautiful summer day on the road to London. This is the story of how Harry runs into Draco once, twice, three times, and how he doesn’t leave their next meeting to chance. A fic inspired by When Harry Met Sally

Chasing Shadows by @manixzen (93k)

The murder of Lucius Malfoy seems impossible—no cause of death, no traces of spell-work, no potions in his system. The only leads Harry and his partner have are the trail of missing wizards the deeper they go. That and the help of the victim’s estranged son who now spends his time bartending at a queer-friendly Muggle pub. A case fic featuring a closeted Harry Potter, an out-and-proud, tattooed Draco Malfoy, and a murder mystery that seems to lead to more questions than answers.

coffee & communication: a (slow) romance by @softlystarstruck (10k)

Nearly a decade after the war, Draco has made a life for himself in Muggle London, writing romance novels and hanging out with his cat. But when he spills iced coffee all over a gorgeous man who turns out to be Harry Potter, has he tumbled into the start of his own romance without realizing it? And how difficult can it be to talk about desire, anyways? He writes smut for a living. Surely it can't be that difficult.

Meddling, Menswear, and Magic by @writcraft (18k)

Draco Malfoy is working in a job he hates and avoiding the magical world entirely, but he really is fine. When a bequest from Severus Snape brings Draco back to a much-changed magical world, he must find his place within it and navigate his growing attraction to Harry Potter in the process.

Way Down We Go by @xiaq (109k)

The war was over. Or at least that’s what the papers said. They’d been saying it, for months, as if people needed reminding. Maybe they did.

In which Harry and Draco both run away from their pasts and conveniently choose to hide in the same tiny American town. It’s super.

100 Beats per Minute by @oknowkiss (13k)

When Draco left the Magical World behind at nineteen, he didn't expect the cusp of thirty would find him comfortable and secure, with a stable life and a successful career as a sex columnist. Stable, that is, until he meets the subject of his newest column -- a stranger calling himself James, who has dragged them both to Ibiza on a sex quest of epic proportions -- and everything Draco ever knew turns upside down all over again.

Prats, Parcels, and Parseltongue by @ronbinary (10k)

Harry is the Muggle world's first snake-only veterinarian. Life is good, and calm, for once. Until Draco Malfoy shows up with a snake. And then another. And then he won't stop coming in.

Full by @orange-peony (16k)

The door opens and the bell goes ding. Draco’s eyes immediately fly to the entrance of his bookshop, his heart beating madly in the hope that it’s him.

The Year of Non-Magical Thinking by @whiskyandwildflowers (13k)

"I don't know what I'm going to do, Potter. I'll think of something. So will you. But this is my journey to self-actualization," Draco managed to smirk. "You can fuck off and get your own."

In the Shape of Things to Come by @academicdisasterfic (15k)

Existential angst and chronic boredom are plaguing Harry Potter in his cushy post-war life. However, a chance encounter with a tattooed, pierced, disgruntled Draco Malfoy in the middle of Muggle Camden seems to spark something in Harry again—and he never could stay away from Malfoy. Ft. assorted methods of body modification, eclectic but loving friends, a wide variety of grunge music, long tube rides, and a whole lot of trans love.

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A drag fairytale of New York in which Draco wears red lipstick and Potter can’t get enough.

Enjoy the Silence by @shealwaysreads (3k)

Draco stops speaking, gets some tattoos, and discovers that Harry’s happy to be quiet with him.

There's No Espresso in Azkaban by @sassy-cissa (7k)

When Harry finds Draco working in a Starbucks, he finds coffee has suddenly become more interesting.

Let Rainwater Wash Away by @carpemermaidtales (6k)

Harry really needed to learn the importance of carrying an umbrella. Or, maybe he didn’t, since not carrying one led him to stumble upon Draco Malfoy’s antique shop while seeking shelter from a thunderstorm.

Google drive link for all Gallaplacidia fics by @geesenoises

Exposure by GallaPlacidia (26k)

When Seamus uncovers Draco Malfoy’s camboy profile, he, Harry and Ron decide to anonymously book a private show so as to humiliate him later. Fascinated by Draco’s confidence, Harry keeps booking private shows under the disguise…

Can I Tell You Something by GallaPlacidia (33k)

It's not a party unless Draco Malfoy is there. He's so fun! So wild! So crazy! So many drugs! So many drugs. Too many drugs? Harry's starting to think it's probably a lot too many drugs. This is not a drug addiction recovery fic, although there is a drug addiction recovery. Feat. character development through wide-eyed MDMA trips and Draco Malfoy finding peace as a burlesque dancer.

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Risky Business: Final Part

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.2k

Summary: The repercussions of being in prison finally take a toll on you. You're yelling at everyone, short and curt, and you're in a constant state of wanting to cry. Will this bitter cycle ever end?

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Season Five Masterlist

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them.

x

As soon as he is done at the hospital, the police station is exactly where Chris ends up at. You, Derek, and Spencer are talking to him in a private room but he isn't saying anything. He's nervously playing with his fingers which is enough to paint a pretty picture for you. The picture is of his dad with his hands around Chris' throat.

His dad's been hurting him. There's a reason why you don't like him.

"Christopher, we know you've been going through a lot since your mother died," Derek starts. "When bad things happen to us, we get frustrated, kid. Sometimes we act out and do things we're not proud of."

He's not engaging in the conversation. He can barely look at either one of you. It's almost Friday and you're not a single step closer to finding out who made the website. If he doesn't talk, people will play it and die. Hotch seems to think that as long as he's here, he can't post.

You have a sick feeling he's not the one monitoring that website.

Penelope immediately did a search for Chris and his family. It's not a shocker that he's a loner but it's a shock that he's moved three times since his mother died. His father cut off his peer support. Three new schools in two years. That's a lot of adjustment for one kid to have to make.

"I want you to know that we're going to be confiscating your computer," Spencer says. "Our analyst is going through all of it so we can uncover the truth."

"Sure you will," Chris scoffs. "Truth."

As you're talking to him, Penelope is trying to get into his computer but can't. He's got a segmented hard drive, serious firewalls, and major-league encryption. There is no reason for all that protection unless he is hiding something. That's why Chris isn't worried. He knows Pen can't get into it.

You look at the clock and see it's 12:01 AM. One minute into Friday, and the videos start piling into the website. Kids are still playing this game despite the warnings you gave. Chris isn't going to give anything up so the two men leave but you still stay seated across from him. He looks at you nervously and you cross one leg over the other.

"What?"

"How long has your dad been choking you?" He leans back in his seat from shock. How the hell did you know that? He stutters out a response but it's nothing you can understand. "Has he always been this way? What about with your mom?"

If he wasn't going to answer questions before, he's certainly not going to answer them now. You get up and leave the room. Hotch wants Penelope to go in and try because if anyone will get him to talk, it's her.

"Hotch, his dad is choking him. He's hurting him. I saw it."

"Hi, I'm Penelope. Can I sit down?"

"You're the cop," he says sarcastically.

"Do I look like a cop to you?" she chuckles and sits.

"Yeah. What, you aren't?"

"No. FBI tech analyst. I just have some administrative cyber crud to go over with you. Just a geekette."

"Cool," he nods.

"You are glum. Time is a great healer."

"You have no idea how I feel."

"I lost my mom and my dad when I was about your age. I don't know. I think I have a pretty good idea of how you feel, and I felt totally alone. Till I found the netizens."

"BTDT."

That means been there, done that.

"Hey, I'm not lying to you. It'll totally get better. BTW, I like your nails," she smiles.

"Thanks. You into goth?" he asks.

"You know, I don't think I'm supposed to be anymore, but the love is still there."

"So, you're FBI?"

"Yeah, I know. It's crazy, but I love it. I enjoy your earring, too. Where did you score that?"

"Ebay. It's supposed to be Johnny D.'s from that pirate movie."

"Most awesome," she smiles.

"She's good," Rossi says. "She established rapport when Morgan, Reid, and Y/N couldn't."

"We should bring her out all the time," Hotch chuckles.

"Okay, your whole PGP disc encryption system is like crazy impressive."

"Yeah, I'm into that kind of stuff," he smiles.

"Stuff? Dude, you do not understand. I am jealous. That is state-of-the-art technology the feeb does not have."

"Whatever," he waves her off but is smiling.

"Okay, how did you get your anonymizing service?"

"I got it from some link from some dude online. What do you care?"

"I just think it's uber cool how you set your whole system up. Like how you use an e-shredder to obliterate your net activity and a window wiper as your secondary trash eraser. Who does that?"

"Everybody does that."

You turn when you hear someone coming in angrily. Chris' father is here and he isn't happy you're talking to him without him. He demands to have his son back and Hotch is forced to give him back since you're not arresting his son. Plus, he's a minor. His father has every right to take him away from here.

"The interview's over. His father invoked," Hotch says to Penelope.

"Dad."

"I'm getting you a lawyer. I screwed up and failed you when your mother died. Not this time. Unless you people have something to charge him with, we're leaving."

Will takes his son away and you look at Hotch in disbelief. 

"You heard what I said and you're still letting them leave? He's hurting his child!"

"There's no evidence of that."

Anger flares in your chest but before you can say or do something stupid, you back away.

"Sir, I'm sorry, I tried," Penelope says.

"If he invokes, he invokes. Concentrate on cracking the encryption."

"Yeah."

Everyone is sure Chris is the culprit so they dive deeper into his life while Penelope works on his computer.

"Judging by sheer volume, Christopher's mother was sick quite a bit. His father brought her into the ER repeatedly. She's described as being violently ill each time. She spends a couple of days in the ICU and makes a miraculous recovery only to be repeated time and again. No diagnosis, no discernable cause."

"There's another video going up," JJ announces.

"That's four kids playing in half an hour."

"How many kids go to this school?"

"Its catchment is the whole county. It's almost two thousand. Garcia, we really need to gain administrative access to the website. I've written down a number of things Christopher may have used as the password. I've already eliminated birthdays, holidays, pet names, and pop culture icons," Spencer says.

"No, there was something pathetic about him, not criminal. When he was leaving, he said he missed his mom. What's his mother's name?"

"Cynthia Summers."

Penelope tries her name and it gives her access.

"That's it. Alright, I'm logging in as an administrator and shutting down the main source, but kids are still posting videos through independent servers."

"Pull up the website history and see if you can learn anything from historical posts," Spencer says.

"Christopher's ER eval shows his bruises were caused by manual and ligature strangulation over time," Emily reads over his medical file. "He's also shown to have layered bruising on his sternum."

"It looks like a CPR artifact but there's no record of resuscitations."

"Wait, all these transmissions are transcripts of the same administrator?" Spencer asks Penelope.

"Yeah, there's only one handle."

"This is weird. In the posts, his voice changes. At times he's using more articles and more precise verbiage like he's trying to throw us off. That's pretty sophisticated behavior for a kid. A writer can disguise his own writing style to make himself appear younger or less educated."

"Yeah, but it's virtually impossible to pull off making yourself appear older and more educated than you actually are," Derek says.

"There are actually two distinct writing styles. Two writers using the same screen name--one teen and one adult. Christopher was being manipulated by an adult."

Hmm. I wonder who that can be. You roll your eyes and sit back in your chair while they come to the same conclusion you did half an hour ago.

"The mother's death is a textbook case of Munchausen by proxy. The kid has been choked and revived on multiple occasions."

"You said the father worked for the fire department, right?" Spencer asks Rhonda.

"Yeah, for a couple of months now.

"In what capacity?"

"As an EMT."

"That's our unsub. It's Chris' dad. He's been hurting his own son."

Everyone looks at you. You can choose to make some snarky comment about how they didn't listen to you again, or you can choose to be quiet. You choose the latter.

"So, the father poses as a classmate and invites local kids to join the game. He bumps up the stakes and encourages them to use their riskiest methods."

"He works on Friday nights," Rhonda says."

"Which means he gets called out to do the rescues. He's not just collecting video tapes. His Munchausen has evolved," Spencer says.

"I'll put out an APB for his truck."

"He'll have to find a place to download the videotapes. They're his trophies. After that, he'll clean up his mess."

"Christopher's the only witness against him."

Your team heads to Chris' house but of course, he and his father aren't there. After a quick search, you end up finding piles upon piles of discs from where Will saved every child that has died because of the game he created.

"There are dozens of discs here."

"I was right here. I never even looked around," Rhonda sighs guiltily.

"We only had consent for the laptop and he knew it was encrypted. We didn't have probable cause for a warrant. Mr. Summers didn't have a chance to come back and get his trophies. He'll definitely try to download the videos tonight."

"This kid was doing everything he could just to survive. The extreme abuse conditioned him to shield his father. When his father came into the room, he seemed genuinely relieved like his burden had been lifted. He was elated when his father rescued him. We need to rethink everything. Now, let's focus on the behavior. What's the pattern?" Hotch asks.

"Christopher knows his father's pattern. In his mind, it will never end unless Chris decides to end it."

You take out your phone, call Penelope, and put her on speakerphone.

"Pen, when you were talking to Chris, did he say anything to you to suggest that he was giving up?"

"Giving up?"

"Like he was trying to say goodbye."

"I don't understand."

"Did he give you anything?"

"Yeah. How did you know that?"

"What did he give you?"

"When we were talking, he gave me this pirate's earring."

"He's made up his mind. Suicide is the only victory over his sadistic father. He may also see it as reuniting with his mother. The father's going to want to download those videos from somewhere, Pen, and we have to stop that process."

"I'm already on that. I replaced the website with a phishing site. I'm downloading it to the servers now. When he logs onto that website, he's going to be rerouted to our server, and we can capture his information."

"Stay on that site, Garcia. It will buy us some time," Hotch says.

"Where are they headed?" Emily asks before the lightbulb goes off in her head. "Wait. What about the mother? It's all about the mother. Garcia, where is Cynthia buried?"

"Oaklawn Cemetery, halfway between here and Glenrock."

"Chris would willingly go there with his father thinking it's some sort of refugee, but Will still needs to download the videos. He needs a power source."

"There's a chapel," Rhonda says. "They use it for burials."

"Let's go. Garcia, we'll call you from the car," Hotch says.

You drive to the cemetery and spot Will's car right outside the place.

"Sir, Mr. Summers just logged on. He's caught in the phishing site."

"Is he downloading the files?"

"He's trying to but all he's gonna get is snow," Pen smirks.

You head into the chapel with the team with guns raised only to see Will with hands around his son's throat. It's safe to say that he doesn't get very far but Chris needs to be hospitalized after what his father did to him.

Without the distraction of a case, everyone is forced to think about you and how you've been behaving since getting out of prison. You never wanted to be the one to treat them badly. You're such a loving and kind soul that it kills you to hurt the ones you love.

"I'm sorry," you announce to everyone. "I'm sorry for what I said before." Two tears fall down your cheeks. "I'm not okay, and I'm trying but it's so hard. I didn't mean any of it." You look at Penelope who looks like she is about to cry with you. "I love how happy you are because I see such darkness every day. You are light." You look at Derek. "I appreciate your tough love because it helps me be a better person." You move on to Emily. "I love how you try so hard because that shows you care. I don't ever want to lose someone like you." You look at Rossi. "It's because of your experience that helps me. I'm going to make mistakes but I can always count on you to make things right. Prison did something to my mind. I want to be here for this team. I want to do my best..."

You can't even finish your sentence. Spencer reaches over and grabs your hand and you look at him with tears in your eyes.

"We're here for you just like you've always been here for us," JJ says.

"I'm trying, guys. I'm sorry."

"We know. You're doing your best and that's all we ever ask of you," Rossi says.

You're honestly so lucky to have people as amazing as the ones on your team. You don't know if you're going to be okay but you do know you have people to fall back on if you're not.

"Experience is a brutal teacher, but you learn. My god, do you learn." C.S. Lewis.

x

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