#or... we're dangerous men who have ''gone to the dark side'' or whatever

[cl0ckworkpuppet]

i think people who say trans men don't experience dangerous levels of bigotry (or bigotry "as bad" as other trans people) should really start talking to some trans men of colour (especially black trans men) and should also maybe shut up and stop turning oppression into a contest. just maybe a thought perchance? maybe??

[carrotsnake]

dungeon meshi fandom rant

i usually stay away from fictional autism headcanons or indulging in them wholesale because i'm more on the 'characters are constructs' side of things. some may exhibit traits we relate to but placing real-world diagnostic labels on walking metaphors makes things too nebulous. however laios touden is an exception to me since autism allegories (despite no authorial intent) are pretty hard-wired into both his arc and dungeon meshi's core themes about being an outsider. so for once the fandom autism memes feel genuine to me lol. it doesn't feel as fanon-heavy or platitudinous, actually it's pretty uplifting. i appreciate the positivity.

that being said the most dogshit dunmesh take i've seen lately is the assertion that laios and falin show us autistic men are villified for things autistic women are accepted for. the fuck are you people smoking? some rebranded MRA-pilled bullshit? log off tumblr and go outside, then point and show me where this is the truth. i don't know if you guys are all living in a feminist utopia that i'm not privy too, but if so send me the address because things couldn't be less like that everywhere i've ever been.

countless times i've been told 'oh you're exactly like a female copy of [socially anxious male friend/co-worker/family member who shares my personality] and then i gotta watch them get special treatment as i get left behind and scolded for not being normal enough. him being blunt is rebellious & brutally honest, me being blunt is just being a b*tch with no filter. how many times do you see autistic women reaching high positions of power and being revered as a misunderstood genius.

how about everyone reminding us to 'be nice' to the supposedly harmless awkward guy who keeps making sexual comments & invading our boundaries because he can't help it apparently. but strangely enough, i have gone my whole life without creeping on others. only to be called creepy and off-putting by these same social equality preachers for not applying makeup or styling my hair right. autistic women are more likely to be sexually harrassed and/or abused than neurotypical women and no one gaf (let's b real they don't care when it happens to neurotypical women either if the man has a good enough sob story.) shit like walking strangely, having a speech impediment and talking too much about esoteric topics was enough to be outcasted for us. once more, with feeling: what are you people smoking?

and critically, falin is pretty. she's conventionally pure, self-sacrificial, beautiful with hollywood curves, soft-spoken, and never questions anyone nor asserts herself over others when her needs aren't being met. her dislikes in the adventurer's bible are 'nothing in particular', she never spoke out against her village's bullying even when she had it worse than laios, quickly forgives her parents for exiling her, and never shows any opinion on marcille's use of dark magic. she's a paragon of femininity. anything less than that, and she would probably invoke similar if not more disgust from her peers than laios through the audacity of not conforming to gender expectations. but she likes holding bugs or whatever so...whoa! she's so feral and subversive amiright guys. but crucially she looks cute while doing it so we're not too uncomfortable to stan.

i love laios so much, he's in my newest blorbo collection for sure but calling the female characters who don't like him judgemental is not a good look. we as the readers who have been inside the main chara's head know he's a good guy - but in the context of dungeon meshi's world, where sexism is as prevalent as stranger danger, it's fair for them to assume bad intent and keep their distance. they're looking out for their own safety and you're mad about that because, what, it makes your 2D nigel sad? cry about it.

so quit using anime characters as fodder for your thinly-veiled 'everyday men milk themselves' preaches. the touden siblings are not a good example of this. if you unironically agree with that take: it's time to go talk to some real women broski.

[twjournals]

All For Good Reason

Warning: dark!Peter Parker x reader, both characters are of age, eventual dub-con, stalking, assault, violence

Word Count: 1.6k

Summary: You have noticed something is not quite right about Peter Parker. A squeaky clean image, but always disappearing at the first sign of danger. You are determined to find out whatever he is hiding. Peter notices your interest in him. He thinks this is a game of cat and mouse. After all, you have your reasons and he has his.

This will be a new upcoming trilogy I will be working on! This will be a dark story so keep that in mind for future posts.

"Parker..." You tsked as you stared through the binoculars at him in the distance. "What are you up to?"

It was not what it looked like, well it was but it wasn't. One might call it stalking, but if you were being completely honest it was all for good reason. Ever since you had moved to Queens, you settled in quite nicely but one thing that did not settle right with you was your next-door neighbor, Peter Parker. There was nothing necessarily wrong with him, at least not as far as you knew, but there was certainly more to him than what was on the surface.

He had always been nothing less than nice whenever you encountered him, in class and outside of it. Well, when he did come to class or stayed through a one. It surprised you how Peter was even passing college. Your family had even gone as far as inviting him and May to dinner on a few occasions, almost every time ending early with Peter hauling ass get out of there and into the night. That was the thing about him. He was almost always in a hurry to be somewhere. Maybe that was where you just needed to mind your own business, but you could not help but wonder why he was always in a panic.

That was how you ended up here sitting in your car, staring through a pair of binoculars for the second time since this week. You had to get to the bottom of his madness. It was dark out, the only source of light being the street lights and the lights to very few businesses that were still open on this street. You did not understand why Peter would come out to this side of the city. You did not feel comfortable being out here even if you were locked up in your car.

You watched as Peter disappeared down a dark alley casually. You dropped your binoculars with a sigh, setting them in your lap as you stared at the dark path he went down. Why did he seem on a mission? What could possibly be down there? You leaned back in your seat, propping your knees up against the steering wheel. It was time to play the waiting game.

You sat in silence, keeping an eye out for him but you never saw him again. You were at mental war with yourself. Should you go looking for him at this point? What if he was hurt? But he was fine the last time you followed him here. What if he was in trouble? He was more capable of taking care of himself rather than you trying to help.

Fuck, why would you come out here? You thought to yourself. You could have just minded your own business, but no you just had to know what Peter Parker was up to.

The clock on your dash rolled as time went on. You gave in. The last time you had left, but this time you were more curious than ever. You were mentally cursing at yourself as you opened the car door. What were you thinking?

You started across the street, walking toward the alley and hugging yourself from a mix of fear and the chill of the cool night. The street was quiet. The silence made it creepier than it would have if people were on it. You peaked down the alley but it was empty.

You forced yourself to keep moving, walking into the alley and looking around you, taking in the overstuffed dumpsters and open air. You sighed, letting your arms fall as you gave up your search. He was gone wherever he was.

You snapped from your thoughts when you heard tires shrieking nearby. You panicked as they began pulling down the alleyway, quickly ducking behind one of the dumpsters and trying to stay as quiet as possible.

You listened to the slide of the van door and the sound of multiple men getting out.

"What are you doing?" A deep voice harped.

You heard a gun cock and you quickly covered your mouth with your hand to keep silent. You suddenly regretted ever leaving the house. "I thought I see someone."

"Stop fucking around. We have work to do." The man snapped, throwing something at the guy. At this point, you were holding your breath. "Probably just a raccoon or something."

The guy finally gave in and you had no choice but to listen as a lock broke off one of the doors to a building.

"Come on. We don't have all night."

The men hoarded into the building, filling their bags full of everything they needed. All you had to do was wait and they would be gone before you know it.

"Well well, what do we have here?" You jumped when a man spotted you out with his flashlight, pointing his gun at you. "Go on. Come on out." He demanded, nudging his gun.

You were scared to move. You couldn't seem to get your feet working properly to carry you.

"Let's go!" He raised his voice and you flinched, quickly sliding out from behind the dumpster. He grabbed your arm, gripping onto it as he pulled you close to him. His gun pressed into your back.

"Hey, boss! Look what we got here." He stiffened a laugh as he dragged you along toward the entrance.

The boss man came out of the building, his eyes falling on you and taking you in. You could feel his eyes scanning along your body. The longer he stared the more naked you felt even though you had clothes on.

"What's a pretty little thing like you doing out here all alone?" He smiled a smug smile, circling around you as he kept his eyes on you.

"I-I-"

"Now don't be scared. We're not gonna hurt you. We just wanna talk." He assured you.

You swallowed the lump formed in your throat. "I was just looking for my friend." You answered honestly.

"Your friend? Out here?" He looked around, stretching his arms out with a stiff laugh. "I highly doubt that."

The man at your side pressed his nose into your hair, breathing in your sweet scent. You tried to move away, but he pressed the gun harder against your back.

"You can consider me your friend." He smirked as his head was still pressed to yours.

"I won't tell anyone. I honestly didn't see anything I swear." You started to plead but the man in front of you put his hand up to mute you. You closed your mouth instantly. You did not want to push your luck.

"Trying to leave so soon hm?" You watched as he stepped closer to you, closing the open space between the two of you. "Not having fun?"

He pushed the guy off of your side. "Go make yourself useful."

He scowled as he walked off to help the other men. "You always get all the fun."

You looked down as he towers over you. "Please don't hurt me." Your voice was quiet as you spoke. You could not bring yourself to face the consequences of coming here.

"Don't you worry that pretty little head of yours. I'll take good care of you." He smirks as he pushes you up against the brick wall behind you and pinning you there. You definitely had been at the wrong place at the right time. You made a mental note if you even made it out alive, you would never follow Peter here ever again.

"Please..." You closed your eyes tight as his hands rubbed up the curves of your body.

Before his hands could get any higher, you feel a gush of wind knocking the older man off of his feet onto the pavement. You fluttered your watery eyes open, blinking back the tears and looking around to see what was going on.

He groaned as he shuffled back to his feet and grabbing you by your throat, squeezing it tight. "Do you think this is a fucking game? Who else is out here?"

"I-I don't know." You clawed at his wrist, pleading to him.

"Don't lie to me!" He yelled as he pulled you off the wall in an attempt to slam you back against it.

"I swear, I don't-" You begged but a flash of red and blue cut you off, sent him flying against one of the dumpsters nearby.

Your eyes stared at the person in front of you, dressed in a red and blue suit. Spiderman. You tried not to be in such shock, but you could not help yourself. You had always heard of the hero, but never had you seen him this close.

His stunt had gained the attention of his other men. Spiderman shot his webs, trapping the older man to the dumpster when he tried to get back to his feet.

He turned to look at you, noticing the other men resurfacing from the building. "Go." He instructed.

He didn't have to tell you twice. Your feet had found the strength before you had even found them. You ran as quick as your feet could carry you out of the alley, stopping for a moment to glance back at all the commotion. You had to make sure he was at least okay even if your mind screamed for you to keep going. You were impressed at the sight of all of the men webbed to the van after they had taken their beating. Spiderman shot his last web over the man's mouth who yelled threats at him before turning to make eye contact with you.

You wanted to thank him, but your voice was lost behind all the adrenaline pumping through your veins. For if it wasn't for him, your own stupidity would have had you dead.

He stood up straight while trying to catch his breath. Even though you could not see his eyes underneath the dark fabric, you knew his eyes were staring right back at you. You gave him an apologetic smile before you ran back to your car, vowing from this point forward, you would never follow Peter Parker into the dark again.

[adelior]

Name: Unconditionally

Author: R. Adelio

Genre: Romance, Minecraft, Comedy, Fluff

Main Lead: Technoblade, Dreamwastaken, DreamXD

Female Lead: Reader

Chapter: 2

Special Addition: Tchnomaid

Letters: 7,463

Tags: Kissing, Deep Kisses, Fluff

<- ->

You felt Niki wrap her arms around you, including Tommy and Tubbo. Fundy stood by the entrance with Eret leaning against the wall. "We thought you'd never come back" Niki admitted, tears pouring out of her eyes. "What do you mean? Did something happen?" Tommy pushed himself away from the embrace and looked at Wil, giving him a slight nod.

"Dream has taken away our traveling rights to the Nether. We only found out not too long ago, and when Niki told me you went to get spider eyes from the piglin market I was scared you were going to get trapped in there forever."

"And this is all because I trespassed their fucking territory?!" You questioned, clenching your fists. "Well," Fundy started, stroking his fingers through his hair. "Dream has always been seen as someone strict and demanding. I'm not surprised he's doing this. If we want to gain his trust back we need to go contact... him." He elaborated, making sure to exaggerate the last word.

"Him?" You, Tommy, and Tubbo asked in unison, confused on what Fundy meant. "Men who are on neither side, with odd genetics." Wilbur pinched the bridge of his nose, seeming disappointed that they'd have to go that far as to contact these 'Men'

"Oh!" Tommy perked up, instantly standing. "You mean Techno and Phil?! I haven't fucking seen them in ages! I wonder how they're doing" Eret cleared his throat, gaining everyone's attention. "This might just be a rumor but I heard that they are no longer staying in the inn. They moved to a cold tundra where barely anyone inhabits"

"Tundra... We'll have to look more into it." Wilbur shrugged his jacket off, gently wrapping it around you. You looked into his eyes, you could see a mix of emotions, but you weren't too sure on what they were. "Everyone, except for [Name], get ready. We're going to be visiting an old friend."

"Wait a second, why can't I come-" You stood up, only to be stopped by Wilbur himself. "[Name], you still need to finish brewing the potions. Besides you don't know the vicinity well better than we do, you've only been here for a year and a hal-"

"But I don't want to feel useless Wil, please let me come with you I'll do anythi-" The brunette lifted his hand, causing you to stop in place as the rest of the group walked out of the nether portal room. Tubbo looked back, giving you a compassionate smile before following everybody else. "It's best if you stay here. That's an order as your Leader."

"Wh.." You stood there, completely in shock. Never have you experienced Wilbur giving you orders that you were against, especially because it made the both of you seem distant. "I'm sorry." Was all he said before walking away.

The rest of the day was spent alone in your office, lazily brewing the potions that you were ordered to finish. You understood why he made that decision, you knew better than to question his motives. But even so, leaving you alone in this empty house was suffocating.

You darted your gaze over to his leather jacket, the one he gently placed on your shoulders. It was enough to make your heart skip a beat. 'No, I shouldn't' Shaking your head, you put the ingredients away and placed the finished potion bottles into the chest.

Deciding that you should spend the rest of your day exploring the facility, you shrugged your sweater on and turned to follow a path that led to a cave once you left the building. Something that has been catching your attention ever since you arrived. You've never really explored this route, nor did you question anybody about it.

"Do not enter.." You mumbled as you softly swiped your hand over the carvings of the wooden sign. "Shit, then this is probably dangerous." Stepping back, you were about to turn around but you hear a faint voice coming from deep inside the cave, urging you to go further in.

"Come here, human." The voice singsonged, it was comforting yet deep, a voice that sounded similar to the one that Clay had. You looked back as a soft breeze escaped the entrance of the cavern. Usually, when facing obscure and suspicious areas such as this one, you tend to stir away, not wanting to cause any trouble.

But this is different, the voice is so soothing to the point your legs moved on their own. Panic surged through your veins, unable to stop yourself from going deeper into the cave. It was dark, you couldn't see anything but a singular light at the end of the tunnel.

"Good girl.." The masculine voice praised, your cheeks warmed, eyes tightly shut. You refused to see what was beyond you, feeling the presence of something much more superior than yourself. "What is the matter? Are you afraid of me?" It questioned, causing you to vigorously shake your head.

The being chuckled, crouching to your level until his face was close to yours. "I've never seen a beautiful human such as yourself before." He brushed a singular finger over your closed eyelids, only tempting you to open them. "What the hell are you..-" You asked, gulping as you feel its hand travel towards your neck.

You couldn't move, you were unable to lift a single hand. And even if you did you don't think you'd have the courage to hit whatever was in front of you. "It is futile for you to know who I am, human."

The both of you stayed in silence for a few seconds, until you feel the warmth of someone pressing their lips against yours. You quickly opened your eyes, only to be met with a dazzling emerald gaze. "What are y-" Once your lips parted, he deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue into your mouth where your muscles danced.

"Sleep my gem," You heard his voice in your head, "We will meet again soon." Darkness, the next second you saw nothing but the void. "This is simply a see you next time gift." He whispered against your mouth, a smirk breaking out.

Your body jolted forward, causing you to wake up from your slumber. You quickly looked around, scanning your surroundings, it was your bedroom. "What the hell, was that all just a dream?" The realization hit you when you blinked the tiredness away. 'I JUST MADE OUT WITH SOME RANDOM MAN IN MY DREAM-'

You slouched forward, pounding your fist against the bed. 'WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH ME-' The more you think about how the kiss made you feel the more your face burned. "UGHHHHHHHHHHH" Throwing one of your pillows towards the door, you didn't expect Wilbur to show up, the cushion hitting his face.

"Oh shit-"

Wil stared at you in confusion, pillow in hand. "Is something wrong?" He asked, walking to where you sat on your bed. "No, don't worry about it" You lied, darting your eyes anywhere but the man who you crushed on. The feeling of guilt surging through you as you recalled the 'dream'

"It doesn't look like it." He sighed, sitting at the end of your bed. "[Name], did something happen when we were gone?"

"HM?" You snapped your head towards him, causing the brunette to jump a bit. "Oh nothing at all, hahaaahhah" Awkwardly laughing, you forced out a cough. "Why do you ask-"

"Well... When we arrived you were passed out in your office. You seemed drained so I carried you here. It's been 19 minutes."

"Oh, I was just tired there's no need to worry!" Sitting there with a dumbfounded expression, the image of the man you kissed in your dream flashed in your head. 'Why am I so shameless..-' You silently cursed yourself for imagining it once more, a random man out of all things. Despite your reassuring words, Wil looked at you as if he had something on his mind.

"If you say so."

<- ->

ec: @quacobs (instagram)

[jadelotusflower]

Robin Hood Rewatch: 2x08 Get Carter!

This is actually one of my favourite episodes of the season, partly because I really enjoy relationship angst, but mostly because we get multiple characters dealing with their trauma/grief. If we can't get these guys and gals into therapy, at least we get to see them talk (and hug) it out.

Also the best episode title they're had for a while - I have no doubt one of the writers is a fan, and Carter is so named only because they wanted to make this reference. The assassin seeking revenge for a dead brother is wholesale lifted from the plot of the film, and Joseph Kennedy almost has a passing resemblance to Michael Caine's look in that role.

"Get Carter - before Carter gets you!"

Carter is one of the only guest stars they actually will bring back later, and for good reason.

"Why don't you ever kiss my ring?" Vaisey, always making things creepy.

Marian is simmering with unrestrained anger, eager to get into the fight, while Robin is the one advocating for the watch and see approach, and it’s quite the role reversal.

The gang's reaction to her charging off is quite funny though, she knocks John over completely and Djaq throws her hands in the air.

Robin’s now getting a taste of what the rest of the gang have to put up with dealing with his recklessness.

Tying Marian up in the middle of a melee, however, is disgusting behaviour - while Marian was hot-headed throwing herself into the fight (nothing Robin hasn't done before himself), he knows that she can hold her own with a sword and doesn't need protecting. Tying her hands is the absolute worst thing he could have done, because how is she meant to defend herself? I can somewhat understand where Robin is coming from in this episode (even if he goes about it badly), but this is unjustifiable.

Clearly she gave that guard she clanked on the head amnesia, because he never reports back that Marian was fighting with the gang.

“I owe you my life”/“I won’t take it just yet.” Nice.

Scimitar is still missing in action.

Robin doesn’t want Marian to be seen in case she needs to return to the castle, when he’s spent the whole season urging for her to join the gang. I think he realises he made a mistake asking her to flee last episode without giving her time to deal with her grief, and wants to leave her options open. But telling her that she’s not ready to make the decision (about whatever she wants to go back), however correct, is patronising.

There's a fundamental conflict that Marian wants to be treated like a member of the gang, but doesn't want to cede to Robin's authority like the rest of the gang - in turn Robin expects her to follow his orders like the others, but isn't treating her like he would the others either - he would never tie them up to keep them out of a fight, and Marian has every right to pissed at him about it.

Djaq and Much having a little tête-à-tête about Carter - I just really enjoy that they’re often paired together in these gang scenes, they balance/play off each other so well. Just this pure platonic frazzled vs calm vibe.

Much just has this really great memory for faces - he was able to recognise fake Richard last season just from his profile despite wearing a helmet, and now he knows he remembers Carter's face from somewhere (or as it will turn out, Carter's brother).

Much really just does not let up, and I love that about him. "You'll be disappointed though, with uh, today's wound. I mean if you're planning to go back to the Holy Land and, uh, kill him." That not so subtle probing for information and Sam Troughton's delivery is always perfect.

"Wasn't me, was it?" Oh Much, so close.

“The crusty one” - lol

It's not explicit, but implied that Vaisey and Guy believe Edward was the one passing information to Robin, and Marian is cleared of any suspicion (paving the way for her return). Guess Guy never showed the Sheriff that hair dagger after all.

Vaisey is actually giving Guy some really good advice here, albeit laced with his usual cruelty and getting all up in Guy's personal space.

"Grow up Gisborne" - now I don't think it's deliberate on Vaisey's part to invoke a Marian parlance, seeing as she really only says this to Robin (and once to Much), but it's a nice little callback, however unintentional.

Marian asks for an apology (and deserves one), but Robin doubles down and doesn't come out of this exchange well.

Because his delivery is terrible, but he's otherwise quite correct - as skilled as Marian is, she’s used to relying on (and having to worry about) only herself and not work in a team, and look to a single point of command. But both of them have their backs up - they're two strong personalities and neither is going to give ground, reverting to the ideological clashes of season 1, except now in much closer quarters.

Robin's also not used to being challenged in this particular way, and in his frustration is reacting like a captain disciplining a soldier, not a lover helping their partner through their grief. I do wonder if the conversation would have gone differently if they'd been alone.

lol at the gang awkwardly standing around listening to Robin and Marian fight. Djaq trying to busy herself with her mortar and pestle as Robin and Marian argue around her.

A really great scene between Marian and John aka the camp dad. Marian really just needs someone to listen to her and appreciate what she's going through - Robin is too fixated on the dangerous way she's channeling her grief and not even trying to address the root cause. He trying to tell her what to do, not listen to what she actually needs.

On the other hand it's probably better coming from John, a neutral party without the emotional baggage she has with Robin.

Because Robin and Marian are really being driven by completely different motives - Marian by grief and therefore loss, and Robin by trauma and therefore fear. In her sorrow, Marian has lost all her fear of being discovered, in fact she wants to make it know she's with the gang, to finally be free to say which side she's on and fight openly, to make her father's death worthwhile, and can't understand why Robin is trying to stifle that.

"I thought you used to have your own men Little John?" So someone remembers Forrest and Hanton!

After Carter takes down the gang one by one, Robin takes down Carter in three seconds (including catching the long dagger Carter throws at him, and flinging it back) and it's lights out. Can you believe it's the first concussion of the season? (Notwithstanding the multiple head injuries Allan sustained last episode).

While Marian has been known to be punch-happy, the "he'll tell us more if he knows we're willing to hurt him" is just so (intentionally) out of character - it is however somewhat reminiscent of Robin in 1x08, wanting to get his punch and torture on with Guy. However rather than understanding where Marian is coming from, he pushes her away with the "go and cook something" jibe. This almost feels like he was going for familiar banter and miscued, but is also an asshole thing to say. When their positions were reversed in 1x08 Marian at least tried to reason with him - Robin is seems to be ill-equipped to do the same.

Allan just having a little snooze against the castle wall. He really seems defeated and depressed after last episode.

Marian's corset has a pouch to hold a dagger - or at least I hope there is because otherwise it's ouch time.

Leaving Marian at the camp is again a mistake on Robin's part - it excludes and isolates her from the gang, rather than trying to involve her so she can bond with them, engaging in their outreach to the peasants - who she helped as the Nightwatchman, but never really had the opportunity to come to know. It would remind her that they are not just fighting against the Sheriff but for the people, which in her frenzied grief she has perhaps lost sight of.

Instead, Robin's focus is on Carter, who he rather identifies with and so finds it easier to address his motives, and try and change them.

Carter is in many ways Robin’s dark mirror, what he could have become in the Holy Land if he chose a different path. It’s important that this happens right when Robin is backsliding - he’s trying to save his own soul as much as Carter’s.

Okay, let's talk about Marian’s forest gear - fashioned from the outfit she wore when she fled the castle the previous episode - but dear me it's awful. The grey culottes, rather than becoming trousers have now been turned into that corset, and her vest/skirt overlay have now become those trousers. Just baffling.

“I’m good with nuns” followed by Allan straight up knocking the Mother Superior over and stealing her ring is iconic.

Much gives Robin a sword to use going after Carter - still no scimitar.

I really love the confrontation/fight scene between Robin and Carter - it's very well choreographed and written, but we also see the best of Robin's character (after seeing some of the worst earlier).

Carter's brother is called Thomas - Allan's brother was called Tom. Lots of dead brothers in this show (including Djaq's).

The story of Carter's brother Thomas dying because he "stopped listening" and led a raid against orders is a little on the nose, but gives context to Robin’s fear for Marian’s safety in part triggered by his war trauma - someone charging in against orders and then dying in his arms.

But it shows Robin as a man who, even when Thomas' recklessness had cost not only his own life but others of Robin's men, was still moved to instruct the stretcher-bearers to make Thomas the hero, and himself the negligent captain, in order to comfort his family.

The fight is fairly even, and although Robin gets the upper hand in the end, it's only partly his skill - rather his true strength is in reaching the man inside the assassin, and then surrender and allow Carter to take his revenge if that's what he wants, and despite his fear, trust that there is good still in him, and that he can leave behind the life as a killer as Robin has done (tried to do).

This scene is the core of why I really love Robin as a character. He's riddled with PTSD and a reckless bravado, he's at time emotionally stunted with those he loves, makes terrible mistakes and often says the wrong thing, but he also has this great heart and compassion that allows him to reach people, to understand and help them, even at the risk of his own life. He's trying.

"He was a hero - just not on that day" is quite a poignant line.

Much and Djaq together again, just saying.

Robin finally finds out that Roger of Stoke was intercepted. I had assumed he'd figured that out once he knew Allan was a traitor but okay.

Poor Much crying out for Robin's attention - he's got his own trauma from the war and wants to talk about it, to commiserate with Robin about what they went though, but Robin can only cope by not talking about it, not even thinking about it.

Much makes a good point that Robin should have listened to him about recognising Carter, but it comes across as jealously over Marian and Robin misses just how deeply Much carries his hurt.

One of Robin's biggest flaws is that he's overwhelming in his affection, compassion, and understanding for strangers, but takes those he loves for granted - Carter's response to grief was the same as Marian's, but Robin listened to Carter, consoled and comforted him, while keeping Marian at arm's length. Perhaps because strangers don't ask for anything beyond that - it is the granting of kindness, but not the sharing of self. It's the latter Robin truly fears, but what Much and Marian deserve (although tbf Marian has problems with this as well).

“Either I’m part of your gang or I’m not” is a valid point, and Robin's still not happy even when she agrees to stay behind!

But she disobeys him, and saves his life. It's a rite of passage - almost all of the members of the gang have this.

Allan looking rather distressed as Guy is about the chop off Robin's head, and he makes a small movement just before the swing (as does Much).

Guy again pushing Marian past the point of discomfort - she left, wrote him a letter asking him to leave her alone, straight up told him to his face to leave her alone, and still he persists.

Her kissing Guy (to distract him from seeing Much and Will) is really the only time she sends mixed signals, but Guy's whole energy seems to be just to wear her down until she agrees to be with him and it's gross. It is however kind of amusing that he tries to be authoritative and forbid her from leaving, and she immediately walks away.

Robin and Marian are back in playful banter mode, although I wish there had been a deeper discussion (and that Robin had apologised in return). It doesn't quite feel like the conflict between them has been resolved, it really is just a "truce".

But I do like that it's Marian who reaches out to Robin at the end of this episode, because up until this point it's Robin who has been (somewhat) the one making overtures - asking her to join the gang, telling her he needs her, telling her he loves her, while Marian's been more reserved. This feels like her acknowledging that sometimes she needs to take the first step.

This was a long one - but as a I said, I really love this episode!

[zmediaoutlet]

Ohh, what an excellent answer re: Deanna! But what about John/Deanna? Would Dean being a woman have a difference there? she would probably remind him of Mary; would he treat her more kindly than Sam, in some cases, on the basis of that? (of course, that would also make it oh so wrong on so many levels - on top of the wrongness it already is when we're talking about John/Dean...)

(read on AO3)

She didn’t look the same.

There were similarities, of course. The tip and tilt of the eyes, andsomething about the strong turn of her jaw. Mary’s jaw had been strong, and setmore often than not into something stubborn. She looked at him square-on, hisgirl, right in the eye, telling him what she thought and what they should do.It wasn’t defiance, because Mary hadn’t ever thought he was in charge. Theywere equals, through and through, and if they fixed to do something or if theyfought it out or even if they just disagreed, it was done with them bothstanding tall. That jaw, flexed, and her chin high.

Deanna’s not that way. She’s stubborn, sure, and she’s tough. John’s seen tothat. She’ll look a man in the eye, and punch him in the eye too if it comes tothat, a sure right hook that she’ll follow up with whatever dirty trick she hasto. She can strip a gun as fast as John and she’s probably a better shot,though he wouldn’t tell her that. He keeps her on her toes, keeps her sharp. Heneeds her focused, and she is. Probably the best hunter he knows of, man orwoman, and he thinks—he hopes—Mary would be proud, even if he’s sure Marywouldn’t want what’s become of their family with her gone.

But she’s not—she looks at John square, her eyes huge and green (not blue),her long hair swinging over her shoulder (lightest brown, not blonde), but herlips are movie-star full and there are freckles over her nose and when Johnsays sweetheart, she doesn’t smile at him all confident or roll her eyesand push away saying there are dishes to do, or weeds to pull, but instead justflushes up like a rose, her ears going pink and her cheeks red and her chinducking, her shoulders curving, and John can’t forget, ever, that this is hisdaughter, not his wife.

It’s awful. For a hundred reasons, for more than, but that’s what keeps Johnup at night. It’s part of why Sam hates him, he’s pretty sure, even if he knowsSam’s not aware of the full extent of it. John’s mortally certain that, if Samfound out, he’d either disappear on the first bus out of Dodge never to be seenagain, or there’d come some morning when Sam would sneak in while Johnstruggled through whatever passed for sleep that he got now and would slit histhroat, age thirteen or not, and if there is an afterlife, John doesn’t thinkthat even in hell he could blame him for it. John’s done some good, he doesn’tpretend otherwise, but he’s done a lot of bad, too, and this is—the worst, he’ssure, and he doesn’t have an excuse.

If he were better, he thinks sometimes, he’d leave. He could get into thetruck and say he was taking care of some hunt, somewhere, and it was toodangerous to bring the two of them along, and Deanna would frown but shewouldn’t argue, and she’d wave from the door of whatever motel or apartmenthe’d gotten for them, and he’d hold that image of her behind his eyes forwhatever years left that would follow. He can picture it, perfectly. Her hairpulled up into a ponytail, her eyes squinting against the morning. Coffee cupin hand, resting lax against her thigh. She’s kept the family going, and she’ddo fine, better, without him.

But there’s always something. A‌ shadow in the corner of John’s eye; aghoul, pinned under his gun, smiling about the devils lurking in every detail.A‌ demon, in Wichita, with its mouth curving bloody even as John’s got itpinned to a chair, saying and where are those pretty kids of yours, John?,so all he can do is race home, heart in his throat, the truck giving its utmostunder the thinnest carved slice of inconstant moonlight—to get back to a cabin,alone among bare trees, to find the Impala parked safe and quiet, and the lighton in the window, and his girl appearing after a moment behind the glass,rolling her eyes at her little brother, safe. His heart hardly slows, and hesits there in the dark, engine off, watching. He can’t. He can’t, because evenif he brings danger they’re in more danger without him. Even with what he is.Even with what he’s done.

It’s awful, and he has no excuse. There was a fight, he and Mary had—Deannanearly two years old and asleep upstairs, bills coming due, life chafing theway that life did—and he remembers it in weird, sunlit clarity. Mary’s hair hadbeen half-up, in that way she ruefully called messy and that he loved, andshe’d been in bare feet in a thin dress that clung to her, and she’d been tiredbut snapping mad all the same. There’d been a bruise on her arm, which hehadn’t put there; her jaw had been square as a boxer’s. She’d said, excusesare just the thing you say to justify what you did.‌ She was right, andhe’d gone away madder for it. By the time she died he still hadn’t come up withthe right response. Maybe there wasn’t one. He sits in the dark cab of his darktruck, and runs his hand over his face, and feels the week’s worth of notshaving on his jaw, and thinks sweetheart, grieving like he usuallydoesn’t, in no more detail than that.

After a while, the light in the cabin windows dims. Midnight, when he checkshis watch—the kids adhering to their curfew, even if he’s gone. Well, Deannais. Sam’s probably going to read with his flashlight under the blanket untildawn comes or he passes out, whichever’s first, back in the little closet he’sturned into a bedroom. John should go inside. He didn’t bring food, too lit-upby the demon’s hint—that they were too close, that he’d pictured—that he’dthought—and they’ll have to get some cash, in the next few days. Things to do.He doesn’t want to do them.

The door to the cabin opens, and Deanna steps out onto the sagging porch.She’s bare-legged, in the moonlight, though he sees after a second that she’swearing shorts at least, one of his cast-off coats tugged over her shoulders.She looks right at him, even if it’s got to be hard to see. He takes a deepbreath, and doesn’t think about it more. He opens the truck door, and gets out intothe cool autumn night, the wet mulchy ground sinking under his boots. “Heythere, sweetheart,” he says, and it’s quiet but it carries across the clearing,and there’s no way to see it in the moonlight but he knows she’s pinking up,and he watches her chin duck and the little smile tuck into her cheek the wayit always does, and he hates it, hates it, and holds out his hand for her totake.

Her boots are just tugged on, unlaced, silent on the leaf-strewn ground. Herlegs long and white, and the shorts with the frayed hems from where she’ddestroyed some jeans in a werewolf hunt a year or two back, and a baseballshirt with a half-washed-off logo for some band he doesn’t know, and his bigcanvas coat over her shoulders, and her hand with bandaids over three of theknuckles when she slips it into his, and her face still ducked down, and hervoice steady but soft when she says, “Hey, Dad.”

It aches. He tucks her hair behind her ear and feels the heat under herskin. “You good?”‌ he says, and he means all of it but she leans in, looks upat him, licks her lips. He’s seen her play whorish for boys, and for men, andhe’s seen her shift gears into charmingly cute for old guys who want a littleshine of pretty, and he’s seen her, even, with a guy her own age she actuallyliked, grinning and flirty, confident. Never, anywhere else, is she like this.Her lips shine, and her white teeth tug into the bottom one, nervous, and heruns his thumb over her bandaged-up knuckles and says, “Sweetheart,” low andhelpless, except he’s not helpless, except he is.

The truck-bed, folded down for her to sit, and his case of weapons shovedaside. He can’t see the color of her eyes in this light. The metal’s cold andhe shrugs out of his own coat, lays it down, and peels his other coat off hershoulders and chafes her forearms when they appear. “What happened?” he says,quiet, because there’s a bruise on her arm too—memory, jostled—and theknuckles, and now that he’s close a scrape on her jaw, and she shrugs it off,away, says, “Fight at school.” She’ll tell him the truth, later, or Sam will ifhe thinks it’ll get her in trouble—Sam’s in that phase—but all John says fornow is, “Good reason?”

She scoffs, but her teeth catch in her lip again and she only nods,eyelashes cast down, and he thumbs over her jaw, careful of the scrape. Hetouches her knee and it bumps up into the shape of his palm. Eagerness orsurprise, he can’t tell. She isn’t wearing a bra, nipples pebbled hard in thecool air. His hands feel very rough when he’s near her. The callus on his thumbslides over her skin, marbled in the light but so, so warm, and he steps closeand her knees part automatic around his hips. His balls ache. With Marysometimes it was like a fight, push and pull, her giving as good as she got. Hehad to hide marks, sometimes, at the garage. With Deanna—he slips his thumbover her bottom lip and her mouth parts instantly, hot breath rushing over hisskin. Her hands fist in his canvas shirt, her chest rising. He pushes his thumbin, just a little, just enough to catch the soft wet of her tongue, and then hecups her jaw and leans down and kisses her, finally, and groans hard not at thetaste but at how her whole body curves up into his.

A fumble, a rush. Like being a teenager himself again. A‌ week since he washere last, and a week before that when nothing happened—and he doesn’t muchlook to other women, and knows in his gut how sick that is. He slides his handsup her cold thighs, over her hips and up her sides under the shirt, her skinblazing hot there against his cold fingers, and she gasps, clutches at hischest, her knees around his hips. She’s sitting too far back but it gives himroom—he slips a hand over her ribs, up the soft swell of her tit, her nipple sohard against his fingertips the skin feels rough, and just brushing it makesher chest heave, her breath coming gaspy and stuttered against his lips.They’ve got practice being quiet but maybe it’s been too long because she says oh,a complete syllable, and his dick strains against his zipper to hear it.

Jesus, the need in her. How easy it is, to bring it up to the surface. Heskims his hand down her belly and goes right for gold, curving his hand downover her worn-thin shorts, the seam slipping against his palm. She flinches,grips his shoulders. “Dad,”‌ she says, breathless, and it’s like there’sa roaring in his ears, a forest fire burning through the trees on all sides. Hecan’t feel the wet yet but he knows if he had the patience—but just rolling hisfingers has her gulping, flattening her weight against his hand, her hipssquirming, and he—yes, god—yes—“Come on,” he says and he knows it sounds rough,but she understands and nods frantic, pushing back and sliding on her ass upthe truck bed, bringing his coat with her—and he climbs up, standing for asecond above her, seeing her spread out, still clothed but—her eyes are on him,then, her mouth open, and he gets down on his knees and goes for the button onher shorts, gets it open and helps her wriggle them down over her hips,bringing her undies down too—purple cotton, printed with turtles—and he pullsthem down, off along with one boot, and her knees spread and he leans down withhis body covering hers from the light and rubs his fingers in her short-trimmedhair and finds the wet seam of her and slips, and then pushes in, just one, andshe’s so hot and tight and clinging that he bites her shoulder through hershirt, even as she grabs his wrist and lifts into it.

God, god. “Fuck,”‌ she breathes, and he gets one knee between hers and pullsout and pushes back in with two, with an audibly wet squishing noise which hasgot to be setting her face on fire—she gets so wet so fast and doesn’tunderstand that it’s the hottest thing in this universe—and he sets his thumbover her clit and works steady, firm, not that it’ll take much. Her thighsspasm and he can’t feel her skin through his jeans but god, if only—and shekeeps her hold on his wrist but doesn’t try to guide him, which is just as wellbecause it’s not as though he needs it, because he knows this body, knows whatit wants, and he knows she’s had boyfriends—has at least gone home with boys,and when very drunk he’s wondered, vicious with himself, if she compares whatshe gets from them to this—if it’s better, two kids fumbling stupid, awkward—ifshe doesn’t get there, if she lays in the dark after the kid’s emptied intosome Planned Parenthood free condom and passed out and she’s throbbing, unsatisfied—ifshe remembers—and he’s kissing her then, soft, pushing his tongue against hersand letting their mouths brush together, her hand clutched into his shirt, andshe comes rippling, her hips curling into his hand, her muscles seizing hardaround his fingers and her nails in his wrist for just the most intense handfulof throbbing seconds before she lets go, her breath sobbing in her chest, herinsides spasming still around the fingers he hasn’t moved.

He lays his cheek against her hair, rubs his thumb over her pubic mound. Twoyears since the first time and still, even with all he thinks about himself,the first thing he feels is this overwhelming sense of protectiveness. Shepants, clutches her thighs around his hand and his leg, muscles twitching, and hekisses her forehead, her cheek. He shifts his wrist and his fingers glide likethrough silk, his knuckles slipping together, and—sometimes he’d slip down,shoulder her legs apart and do his best, and there’ve been times that was it,that he’d brought her there shuddering three times, five, and then pushed offand said—wash up, honey, and taken himself away before he could do moredamage.

Tonight, though—with it cold, and her hand still locked into his shirt. Hepulls his fingers out and drags them flat over the whole messy swale betweenher legs, from her so-sensitive clit to her vagina and past, sliding smooth,until his fingertip curls against the rim of her asshole. He looks her full inthe face and she blinks at him in a wave of clear moonlight, lips bitten andwet, and he thinks, he could. He could, and she wouldn’t stop him, and she’dlike it after a while—and maybe want it, too, and tip her ass up for it thesame way she’ll spread and offer her pussy, bright red and eager to please, andhe groans and says, entirely without input from his brain, “You’re killing me,”and her face does something he doesn’t understand but it’s—he has to be in her,he has to, and he kneels up between her legs and undoes his belt, his button,his zip, and she scoots up, seeing, spreads wider, lifts on an elbow andreaches down, and his dick practically leaps straight out when he shoves hisjeans down his hips, his ass bare to the night sky, but—god—her hand, knowing,and he picks up her thigh and leans in, lets her guide because he always has,always, even that first time when they really were both drunk and frightenedand she’d shushed him saying dad, come on—it’s okay—and thistime’s just like that time in how she presses him up in the wrong place atfirst, too high, and drags his cockhead down between the lips to home and holdshim there for an unbearable second before she presses, in, and he takesover and pushes, steady, hilting up inside with her making that same breathlesshigh noise in her chest, her thigh clutching over his hip, the heatunimaginable, fuck, fuck, Mary.

No—

“Oh, fuck,” she says again, and he’s reoriented, and fucks in quick andsharp without fully meaning to. She groans then, deep, deeper, and he slides ahand under her shirt to tweak her nipple, gripping her tit in a rough palm,fucking forward, bringing her hips with his. The truck rocks, counter to theirrhythm, and she gets a hand in his hair, grips, says, “D—” but he fucks intoher again before she can say it and she gasps instead, and then he’s fuckingher easy, slipping through her wet and letting her clutch all around him,knowing that he’s making it good, that he’s getting her there, and the worldfading past his back—just the pound of her heart in her throat where he’sburied his face, and the press of her skin, and below where his balls slapagainst her ass and he grinds in deep, forces his pelvis against hers and feelsher thighs start to shake, her hands gripping. She goes off again, his easygirl, and he wants to yank out of her, to shove her on her belly and push inagain—to take her ass—to get her on his lap and play with her clit until she’swrung out and desperate, wanting only to sleep—to get her to say, at last—no,Dad, no—stop—but she doesn’t, and he doesn’t, and he lifts up and drags hischeek against hers and gets a hand under her ass to tilt her into just theposition he wants and drills her hard, not trying to get her off but justwanting to empty himself out—to be done—but she does come again, shocked andsuddenly-loud, clutching around his dick, and he unloads in her only then,stomach coiled and gritting whatever noise he might’ve made into silencebetween his teeth, his hips slamming in two, three more times, his fingersgripped so tight into the meat of her ass that his knuckles hurt, and ache morewhen he finally lets go.

She’s quiet, after. Always is. Their breath slows down only slowly, anddespite the cool air John’s sweating like a pig but she doesn’t push him off,or complain. Her fingers are soft against his neck, light on his side. Hekisses her jaw, obscure apology, and she makes a very soft sound for that, andnone at all when he pulls out, wet following. She’s been on the pill since shewas fifteen but he has a moment, every time, where he thinks—good—andthen the sickness washes in to cover it, and he has to turn his face away. Heturns away now, kneeling up, tugging his jeans into place. She’s a mess belowhim, breathing quietly at the night sky. He glances around, habit, but ofcourse there’s nothing to see. Just the woods, and the dark cabin, and hisgirl.

Her jean-shorts fell down to ground, and both boots too. She’s left in hersocks, bunched around her ankles. He climbs down and says, “C’mere,” and hesees her chest expand on a big breath before she sits up. She wrinkles hernose, slipping a hand between her legs, and his stomach flips, knowing thatit’s him she’s feeling. She just scoots forward, though, and he holds up theshorts and she blinks at him, but presents one foot and then the other, lettinghim slide them up her legs. She missed a little patch in her shaving, on theside of one knee, and he holds his palm over that and leans down and kisses hersoft, her mouth opening plush and giving. Endlessly giving.

“Go on,” he says, when he pulls away. He puts a little smile in it, so asnot to seem cruel. It’d be too cruel, to be cruel now. He picks her up by thehips—he can still pick her up, even with her grown—and she slides her shorts upthe rest of the way, and drops onto her bare feet on the soft wet ground. Hepicks up her boots and hands them to her. “I’ll get this squared away,” hesays. “You go and clean up.”

She’ll need it—wet as they were—and she’ll need to pee, to wash up. Deannanods, and fishes a hairtie out of her pocket, and in an instant her hair’s in amessy bun, heavy at the back of her head. She picks up her boots again, buthesitates, and then leans into his side, not exactly a hug. “Glad you’re home,Dad,” she says, quiet, eyes flashing up, and then walks barefooted across thebig clearing, up the steps. Into the cabin, without looking back.

John drags a hand over his face. There’s spunk on his coat. Where arethose pretty kids of yours, he hears, like it’s echoing across theclearing, and he looks behind himself like a fool, and then up at the moon.“Yeah,” he says, chest sore. When he looks down he sees her panties, floateddown among the leaves. He stoops and picks them up, stuffs them into hispocket, and gets to work. He’s got to clean this up and square it away, andthen get into the house where the broken-spring old couch is waiting to be hisbed, and then—the morning, and Sam wanting to join some club or other, andDeanna making breakfast in the lit-up kitchen, and looking in the paper forsome kind of dark, something that’ll take him away from here again. “Excuses,”he says, to no one, and bites the inside of his cheek. Then he grabs up thecoats, and puts up the tailgate, and heads over to the water pump, to wash.

[lovemychoices]

The Lost Prince - TRR/TRH AU [Liam x MC] Mini Series - Part 1

After being married for three years and unable to produce an heir. Liam gets an unexpected news that changes his & Riley’s life forever.

Genre : Romance, Drama

*THIS SERIES PRACTICALLY THROWS CANON OUT THE WINDOW* YEET!YEET!

Characters except my OCs belong to Pixelberry, I am just borrowing them

Word count : 1500++

Chapter Summary: Liam and Riley struggle to get an heir forcing Riley to go with plan C. Meanwhile Liam gets some life changing news that could change his life forever.

A/N : So I had this series kept in my draft for quite sometime and finally decided to post it. I might regret this later. This will be a 5-6 part mini series and is going to be a prequel for another series I have planned called Heirs : A prince of Cordonia. I did not check for edits so forgive me for any grammatical mistakes.

Warning : Mentions of infertility and some pregnancy complications, that might be sensitive to some readers.

Riley nervously taps her feet on the carpet floor of the SUV while fidgeting with the fingernails, she was trying her best not to bite on them a habit she developed as a child whenever she felt nervous or uneasy. They were on their way to meet the OB-GYN for what felt like the hundredth time. Riley and Liam have been married for two years and were unsuccessful in producing an heir, something that they were being put under pressure for ever since they were married.

They tried the natural way during their first year of marriage when that didn’t work they opted for other options like IVF and IUI even some traditional methods but nothing worked. “Everything will be alright love.” Liam takes her hand assuring her. “Liam, I can’t go through with this again. What if it’s a false alarm again? What if I’m not pregnant.”

Liam wraps his arms around her shoulders, pulling her closer. “Then we try again, there are some couples who try ten year before they are able to conceive.”

“But we’re not like other couples, we don’t have time. The longer Cordonia doesn’t have an heir the more dangerous it will be for the monarchy. What if something bad happens?”

“Hey look at me Riley.” He tilted her chin with his fingers so she’s looking at him. “I will never let anything bad happen to us. Whatever it takes, remember?” Riley gives a grateful nod and leaned her head on Liam's shoulder. When they reached the doctor's office, the were both heartbroken to hear that their IVF treatment was yet again not successful.

At that point Riley had already felt like giving up and was considering a third option. “I think we should move to plan C.” She said in a perpetually tired voice, her eyes downcast. Liam is about to say something but she holds up her hand and continues. “Before you say anything, Hana and I already have a few candidates lined up and by the looks of it they seem pretty promising.”

“Love, I don’t want to pressure you into doing something you don’t want to.”

“But that’s just it Liam, I want this. I am just so tired with all the failed attempts, I just can’t do this anymore. I want to have a family with you even if it means I’m not the one who’s going to be carry them myself. It will still be our child and that’s the only thing that matters to me.”

Riley's request took Liam by surprise, he knew how much the whole pregnancy experience meant to her. He gets up from his chair and walks to where Riley is seated, he takes her hand in his and kneels in front of her, his eyes gazing warmly into hers. “My love, you know all I want is your happiness. If this is what you want, what you really want then you have my full support.”

If she was being honest, surrogacy was the last thing she wanted. What if something went wrong? Like the surrogate going rouge and running away with their baby? There have been such cases. But she didn’t want to be selfish, she knew how much having an heir meant to Liam and while he could wait the council couldn’t nor could the media.

Riley gives a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’ll have Madeleine set up an appointment for the candidates next week so the both of us can conduct the interview ourselves since we won’t have anything going on.”

Liam nods giving her a comforting squeeze. “I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

*************************

Liam sat in his office going through some documents that required his attention though his mind wasn’t really paying attention. Riley’s request kept ringing in his head, he wanted to make her happy and he would move heaven on earth for her. It’s not a big deal, a lot of people who can’t have a baby often go for surrogates.

He is suddenly pulled out of his thoughts by the sound of his office phone ringing and picks it up.

“Your majesty, there’s someone on line it’s someone calling from the states. She says it’s important, something about Maya Reinhart?”

“Maya Reinhart?” He mimicked, he only met one person with that name Maya and it was 6 years ago when Leo took him for an impromptu brothers bonding trip to LA.

6 years ago…

The sound of live music filled the air of the rooftop party in downtown Los Angeles. It was after Liam just graduated from college and Leo decided they should celebrate with their annual brothers trip.

“Look alive brother because tonight we're going to party out ass off.” Leo grinned patting Liam on the back. “Now take your pick, tonight we're are not two princes only a couple of two normal but still handsome young men looking for adventure.”

Liam shrugs. “And by adventure you mean a one night stand with someone?”

“Who said it was just the one?” Leo gave a mischievous grin, making Liam shake his head. “ Oh, if anyone asks what we do, just tell them we’re models or something. Now go have fun!” He eagerly pushed Liam into the crowd and heads the opposite direction toward the bar where a few ladies were seated and were ogling their eyes at him since they arrived.

Liam scanned the room taking in the lively atmosphere of the party, it was nothing like the balls they had back in Cordonia. There were no formalities or protocol they needed to follow, everyone could just have fun and let loose.

“Are you lost?” Liam whirled around and saw petite brunette with the most beautiful smile sitting by one of the L shaped couch next to the edge of the glass banister holding a book. But that wasn’t the only thing about her that caught his attention, what caught his attention was the colour of her eyes. One of it was blue while the other was half blue and half brown.

“Um.. No. I was actually looking for a place to sit. Do you mind?” He gestured to the empty space beside her. The woman gave a shrug before nodding and returned to read her book.

Liam sheepishly took a seat next to her. “So..why are you reading at a party?”

“Because I’m studying for the bar exam on Monday. I would rather stay at home but my housemate insisted I come, so here we are.” She said and closed her book, turning her attention towards Liam. “So what about you? Why are you doing at a place like this, clearly this must’ve been your first choice in your itinerary.”

“What gave you that impression?”

“Because you’re here talking to someone who’s reading a very boring textbook instead of enjoying himself sipping champagne by the table of supermodels over there.” She gestured to where Leo was standing.

“You’re right this wasn’t the first place I had in mind when I came to LA but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t starting to enjoy myself.” He grinned then extended his hand. “I’m Liam by the way. Liam….” He paused when he remembered not to use his real last name. “Deveraux. Liam Deveraux.” She smiled and shook his hand. “Maya.”

“Only Maya?” He raised an eyebrow. “For now, if you can keep me interested until the end of the night I might just give you my last name.” She playfully winked which made him snort out a laugh. “So Liam, I assume from your accent that you’re not from the states. What brings you to this side of the pond?”

“I’m here on a modeling job with my brother.” He lied then pointed to where Leo was standing.“He’s the one standing by the bar talking to those women.”

“Why aren’t you joining him?” She looked at him curiously.

“Because I’m enjoying the company I have now.” He grinned. “By the way, you have really pretty eyes.”

Maya chuckled. “It’s called sectoral heterochromia. It’s sort of genetic but very uncommon in humans. My grandmother on my mother’s side had it. People normally stare at me weirdly when they first notice my eyes, like I’m some sort of alien or something.”

“Well I think it’s beautiful.” He smiled and her cheeks started to blush. As the night went on the two talked and drank, enjoying each others company. After four bottles later Liam finally worked up the courage to ask Maya to dance with him.

The two swayed rhythmically to the beat of the music with Maya’s back pressed in front of Liam, his hands moved along the silhouette of her body and his lips inches away from her neck. He spun her around to face him and capture her lips in a heated kiss ignoring the crowd around them. She pulled back letting out a soft giggle and gazed into his dark blue eyes, both smiling back.

After that, everything else went by quickly. Liam invited Maya to his suite for coffee but one thing lead to another and the next thing he knew they were both eagerly taking each others clothes off and having mind blowing sex. The next day he woke up and Maya was already gone, the only thing she left was a piece of note on the bed that said. Thanks for last night, Maya. Liam let out a sigh then plopped back onto his pillow and murmured. “She didn’t give me her last name.”

Present day….

“Put them on.” Liam said. “Hello am I talking to his majesty King Liam Rys or Cordonia?” The person asked it was a voice of a woman but it sounded nothing like Maya. “Yes this is he and please call me Liam, may I know who is on the line?”

“My name is Leah Sanchez, I am a friend of Maya’s.” She sputters. “I don’t even know if you even remember her…”

“Yes I remember Maya, we met that one time 6 years ago. What’s this call about? Did something happen to her is she alright?”

There was a short moment of silence before the woman said something. “Liam, Maya passed away a few weeks ago from ovarian cancer and I’m sorry for springing this information on you but there is something else you need to know. When she died she left behind a son. Liam, he is your son.

***************

I’m using tags from my other TRR Series and adding other’s that I think would be interested in this series. Do let me know if you want to stay on the list. if you would like to be added or removed.

TRR/TRH - @charliejane-blog @dcbbw @hopefulmoonobject @cmestrella @pixieferry @lodberg @traeumerinwitzhelden @romanticatheart-posts @gnatbrain @the-soot-sprite @texaskitten30 @ao719 @desiree-0816 @emceesynonymroll @jessiembruno @kinkykingliam @jlpplays1 @annekebbphotography @thecordoniandiaries @cora-nova @rainbowsinthestorm @jessiembruno @leelee10898 @client-327 @kingliam2019 @dangerouseggseagleartisan @zaffrenotes

[httphoneyb]

Fatal | Mobster!Tom x OC!

Summary: Violet Thorne and Tom Holland are both on opposing sides in the midst of a mob war. What happens when fatal collides with dangerous?

t w o

--

"Dad, I don't know what you want me to do here!" Violet sighed loudly throwing her hands in the air. Her father watching her pace back and forth infront of his desk.

"My love, I don't understand why you insist on me giving my seat to your brother. You are my first born thus, it's yours," he explained in a hushed tone.

"I want out of this dad! I've been trying to get out of this! And I can't do that i-if you keep dragging me back in!" Violet didn't understand how her father couldn't comprehend what she's been trying to say for the past hour.

The skin on her arm felt raw. Her nails dragged across it continuously since the topic was brought up.

"Then explain to me why, Violeta!" He stood slamming his hands on the dark oak desk.

Violet knew he had a rule about speaking to his children calmly, reserving his assertive voice for their enemies and prisoners.

He was always a gentle man around her and her brothers, some would say you wouldn't be able to tell he ran a mob while he was around his children. This circumstance was a rarity in her family.

So she stood and let the silence envelope the room.

"Exactly my point. You have no reason for wanting to be out of the business. Not a valid one anyway."

When in fact she did.

Her whole life Violet watched her brothers grow up like soldiers. As soon as they could walk, a gun was placed into their hands and the boys were taught how to shoot.

She didn't want a family like that. She's terrified to have a family like that.

"This could all be yours, my love. This...this empire was built on first borns, you are to continue it on. I'm growing old, Violeta. I need you to take my place. Especially when we're in the midst of a war."

"A war?"

"The Hollands have been crossing multiple mob boundaries in the past months. They're making alliances with the Diaz mob and broke their truce with the Rizzos. They're expanding. I can't do this on my own, Violeta."

"Pappa but you're not on your own..theres five other boys in the house waiting to take your spot. Leo has a knack for this, Dad. Use him!"

He chuckled lowly, "We both know you'd give Leonardo a run for his money."

"That's not my point. What I am saying is tha-" Violet was cut off by Luca, the youngest of the six, as he swung the wooden doors open doors open.

"We found the mole," was all he said before turning around and leaving.

"Mole? What mole?" Violet walked with her father out of his office, confusion written all over her face.

"Some of our info was leaked and other mobs got ahold of our shipments, drug and weapon outlets, even some safe houses." She could feel her father getting angrier as she reached the basement of their mansion.

"What?!"

Angelo, the third oldest joined them, "We found a usb full of our shipment dates and outposts. It was a cook, says the Hollands sent him."

Of course it was

She watched her father take out knives and guns as he headed for the lowest floor. The mere smell of that place made her stomach churn.

"You coming?" Angelo stopped midstep and turned to her.

"Yeah I'm just gonna save myself the trouble and head out for the day," Violet backed away from the flight of stairs.

"Hey Vi..just so you know, you're gonna have to suck it up one day, this job has no place for personal morals," Angelo turned around and decended the stairs, leaving Violet chewing at her lip.

What if he was right?

What if she really just needed to suck it up?

What if this was meant for her?

What if

What if

What if

Wh-

"Earth to Violet!" Leo waved a hand infront of her face.

The raven haired girl was dragged out of her own throughts.

"Tom wants to talk to you." Leo whispered, afraid that their father someone would hear.

Violet's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, "Tom? Tom Holland?"

"Yes Tom Holland! Who else!" Her brother sighed in annoyance, "He sent a letter this morning, good thing I got to it before Dad."

A light blue envelope was placed in her hand.

"A letter? Guy doesn't own a phone?" she scoffed, eyes skimming through the writing, the letters were smooth and neat, contrasting the many wrinkles on the paper.

"He's traditional I guess. Whatever. It just says he wants to meet with you to discuss some things blah blah blah...some thing about weapons yadda yadda.." Leo talked animatedly. His hands always waving around as he spoke.

"Why not Dad? I'm not in charge."

"Dad has it out for him, he's paranoid these days. Thinks everyone's out to get him."

"And what if it's a trap?"

"I'll have men tail you for protection, but other than that I think this is you know...good."

"Good? Good how?"

"Look, I don't wanna see this war that Pappa's been talking about happen. People will die. If theres a way to stop it, I think only you can pull it off."

"As much as I'm flattered, there's no point in me talking to him. I'm not taking Dad's place."

Leo rolled his eyes at his stubborn sister.

"No one said anything about that! Just go talk to him and see what he wants!"

"Fine."

"Yes!"

"But-"

"Oh no."

"You have to handle that southwest gang of criminals scamming our casinos."

"Ugh."

---

"Have they replied?" Tom asked as Harrison walked into the room.

"She's on her way now, actually. Eager girl," Harrison chuckled. "What do you want with her anyway?"

"Nothing harmful. Just trying to see if she could hold her own." Tom smirked as the burn of scotch travelled down his throat.

Violet rolled up to the front of the Holland mansion, a bit bigger than the Thorne's but then again, who's keeping track these days? Right?

Sam Holland walked to the car and opened the door for Violet. "Miss Thorne."

Violet took his hand and bent to look back at her driver in the car.

"When should I pick you up ma'am?"

"I'll call for you, Artie. Thank you." she smiled gratefully and followed the twin into the house.

"Bring a weapon with you, Thorne?" Harrison called from the top of the foyer.

"You think I'm gonna go into enemy territory without one?" she retorted. "Whoa! Kid! What're you doing!"

"Can't take any chances." Sam began to pat her down staring from her waist.

"Think we're gonna roll and show our bellies just cos you're a woman?" Harrison chuckled.

"I was counting on it.." she pouted as Sam seized her gun.

"Now there's no need for that ,Sammy." All of a sudden Tom appeared next to Harrison and started decending the stairs. "Don't you know how to treat a lady?" He grinned at her, "Let her keep the gun."

"Tom-"

"Let her keep the gun." Venom dripped from Tom's voice as he spoke slowly, "After all, this is just a casual talk right?" His eyes moved to hers, an ominous meaning behind his words unsettled her but stayed holding his gaze.

"Sure is." she took her gun back and slipped it on the band on her jeans as Tom looked behind her and whispered, "Then tell your men to turn around and go home."

Violet's heart dropped to her stomach and turned, the men Leo had sent with her we're parked outside the gates of the mansion, headlights turned off and obvious guns in hand. She sighed and called her brother.

"Yeah?"

"Tell them to go home." she said simply into the phone as Tom smirked at her.

"Vi, you can't be serious."

"Just do it."

She hung up the phone and threw a taunting smile at the boys before her.

"Follow me." Tom led Violet up the stairs and into what she assumed was his office. Much like her father's, the office was very manly and dark.

Taking a seat infront of his desk she asked, "Why am I here, Holland?"

"I want a cut of your drug profits." Tom said simply.

"And what do I get in return?" Violet leans forward to place her forearms on the desk.

"Safe travels. I know that for years your family has been funneling your weapons through my side of the city to get to them across the Atlantic. And for years my guys have been giving you trouble," Violet nods, pouring herself her own cup of scotch, "All I'm asking for is say..20% of your drug profits and I let your guys through with no hassle."

Violet finally breaks eye contact with Tom and doubles over in laughter, catching the mob boss off guard.

"20%?! Ha! You're delusional." She scoffs at him.

He stared at her with a look of both amusement and annoyance.

"Mr. Holland," Violet recollected herself as she sat with poise, sharp eyes looking at the man before her, "did you know that my family runs America's biggest underground drug cartel? We have 8 different bases across the country, and 2 abroad. Bringing in approximately twenty-million dollars a year each. You're asking me to cut 20% of my 200 million a year to..what," she did the math quickly in her head as Tom gaped at her in disbelief, "$160,000,000 for safe travels, as you put it, for one of our outposts?You've gone insane. Your men aren't anything mine can't handle. Now if you'll excuse me."

Tom ran his calloused hands up and down his face in exhaustion. Man she was a hassle.

"Wait."

Violet sat back down and looked at him in boredom.

"15%"

"Eight."

"Thirteen."

"Six."

"Fifteen."

"Six."

"Twelve."

"Three."

Tom cussed outloud and leaned back in his chair. "8% and I'll tell you what the Rizzo's down south are planning."

"Why would I care about some shithole mob?" Violet scoffed at his poor attempt to negotiate.

"They're trying to kill you."

Tom saw that what he said piqued the stubborn girls interest.

"Fine. 16 million a year. Now, tell me more."

Tom inwardly smirked at this, "They think that killing you would kill your empire. They know Robert would never give his seat to anyone else. And they also know you're refusing to take it. If you're gone..all they have to do is wait for your dad to die and your mob along with it."

The room was filled with silence as a million thoughts ran through Violet's mind.

"Huh," she chuckled.

She's laughing? Why would she be laughing at the fact someone's trying to kill her? Tom thought to himself.

"Guess that's just another thing on my list," she got up and slid her coat on, "enjoy your sixteen million, Holland."

"Pleasure doing business with you, Violet." The pair shook hands before Violet said, "Buy your share under a different name, my dad would never sell to a Holland."

"Will do," Tom walked her to the front door, "And for the record..I wouldn't mind you being the business, Violet. You'd be a worthy opponent." Tom complimented her genuinely.

Violet only looked back at him, winking she said, "You bet your sweet ass I'd be."

Tom chuckled as the click of her heels faded and Harrison was at his side.

"So...?"

"Ferocious that one.. smart too." Tom had a sly smile decorating his face.

"But I've got her right where I want her."

---

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