#prodigal son week

[all-pacas]

CHASE: [walking into House's office] You sabotaged Foreman's job interview, didn't you? HOUSE: Foreman's already been over this. It wasn't me. CHASE: Everybody's chasing ghosts over this. Which means either nobody did it, or somebody wants everybody chasing ghosts. Now who does that sound like? HOUSE: [almost smiling, growing serious:] Now, why would I do that? CHASE: Because as long as Foreman thought you were guilty, he was gonna be useless around here. HOUSE: [laughs] Sometimes, I forget why I hired you.

(they then proceed to have a short and completely honest conversation about why house did it, no bullshit at all.) just!!!! first of all, this is the nicest thing house has ever said about chase. but also! chase is sharp as hell. he is pretty consistently good at Getting house, at reading people, and in turn house actually gives chase quite a lot of honesty -- maybe because chase so rarely pushes for it. chase in s8, after being stabbed. knows and explains that house was worried, that he was making up excuses to visit. chase in s5, promising to do surgery if house tells him why; house telling him the truth -- that the patient reminds him of himself. in the same scene, house asking chase to manipulate his boss: house at other times calling chase sneaky. a schemer.

house, despite the "his dad made a phone call" line, admitting with a proud little smile: this is why i hired you.

one scene earlier, house and foreman have an argument over treatment. house says foreman has two choices: a futile argument with house before doing what he's told, or just going ahead and doing what he's told. foreman throws up his hands and goes to obey, and house calls him out: he had a third choice, to not do what house asked. but he wouldn't, because foreman trusts house's instincts more than his own.

cut to chase in house's office. house says no, it wasn't me!. chase says yes, it was, and here's why. he knows he's right. house knows he's right. it's the next scene.

(also: in the first ten minutes of the episode, the patient complains to foreman he can barely bend his fingers. this turns out to be the Big Clue that leads to his diagnoses, but it takes house realizing it on his own in the last five minutes: foreman apparently forgot to mention it or didn't think it was important. another sign he's not Ready)

[rickybaby]

also your tags are excellent, truly the culmination of a 10 year long narrative

and no one is more aware of the narrative than Daniel.

he reeled christian in by making a whole show of giving toto his merch to wear which of course led to the whole clandestine hotel room meeting in mexico of all places. He sat across christian at a swanky restaurant and told him point blank he wanted to race for redbull again, when he hadn't yet been near another race car, when all he had to back himself up was just his belief that christian would do anything for him. And every time he went about making his batshit crazy fairytale comments about redbull (re miami and monaco) his main opponent didn't just stumble but had a glorious fall

and of course, being aware of what the Silverstone test represented? The 'yeah i had a young driver's test at silverstone ten years ago that ultimately got me the red bull seat' and treating it like his one-shot audition and nailing so fucking much that they had to give him a seat only after 7 laps (like it was just a formality for christian, mr. i was just going in to work and stopped by to see how daniel was doing when he had his phone in hand hyping him up to marko)

[hamletthedane]

What’s with all the Godfather posts?

I want to saw open Michael Corleone’s skull and poke at his brains with a stick in the name of science

[deepfriedtwinkie]

am I part of the Walking Dead fandom now: no (sorry, TWD people)

am I part of the Tom Payne fandom now: yes (not sorry to anyone at all)

am I a tourist in the Walking Dead fandom now, strictly for the duration of Tom Payne’s presence: you bet your post-apocalyptic ass

would I die for Paul Rovia: NAME the TIME and PLACE

[17goiingunder]

@gareththegreat

"Okay, you’re goin’ to drink this beer, and then you’re goin’ to go over to that girl and introduce yourself. It’s simple.” Dave pushes the overflowing mug of beer towards Gareth, before picking up his own mug. “Don’t worry, I’m with you. I’m not goin’ to let you drown.” Still, it must seem terrifying. Maybe he should stick to tennis instead of being a self-appointed dating coach. “Cheers.”

[something-of-a-hermit]

Why is O Superman (Laurie Anderson) so incredibly comforting but also I’m sobbing my eyes out at 12am over the line “and when force is gone, there’s always Mom (hi, mom!)”?

[edwardshundredyearoldspunk]

we've been hosting this girl idk really the specifics but she's from guatemala and my dad (who is never here) basically called my mom at like five in the morning one morning being all like "go pick up this random girl because we're hosting her." supposedly he was "under the impression" that she was his supervisor's son's fiance and he was requesting a green card for her idk how any of that works so idk but anyways turns out she's not the supervisor's son's fiance (they barely know each other and are online friends at most) and the supervisor's son isn't actually the supervisor's son he's just some random guy and the supervisor just calls young men by "hijo" and my dad just aSsUmEd and this random girl has been here for almost a fucking month and I'm going about-to-tear-my-hair-out crazy because I haven't been truly alone in almost a MONTH because obviously she doesn't know anyone here and doesn't leave the house because she doesn't know english or the area or ANYthing! and I'm on the verge of a meltdown because I need ALONE alone time which I am obviously not getting when she is always here and her being here is disrupting ALL of my routines and none of it is her fault but I want her OUT and she's so unassuming and nice and does the dishes (which I appreciate a lot because it's my least favorite task) but she has moved EVERYTHING in the kitchen and all the spoons are a mess and all the pots and pans are in the wrong place and all the plates are stacked wrong and I am ABOUT TO HAVE A MELTDOWN ABOUT IT because up until this weekend I was under the impression that she was at least somehow known to someONE close to me so it meant my discomfort was worth it because it meant we were helping someone close-ish to the family but it turns out she's just SOME RANDOM GIRL??? and of course we can't just kick her out I mean she doesn't even know english she has nowhere to go but I am this close to ending it all and going to live in the woods

[subbmissivesuccubus]

Bully- Part 1

Summary: Your bully's, Gojo and Geto, find out an embarrassing secret of yours and will never let you live it down. But maybe, you don't want them to.

Disclaimer: 18+ fic. Gojo X Fem reader X Geto. Humiliation kink. Free use kink. Gojo and Geto being mean. Bully Geto and Gojo. Dub-con warning. It is subtly implied that reader wants and enjoys what's happening to her, but the boys don't care to ask for consent.

a/n: Sorry it took so long wah but here's part one to the series. I plan to write many more cause damn it is so fun haha. I promise, the next part will have all the gratuitous smut and ruthless fucking this premise deserves. Consider this an appetizer <3

Taglist: @bisexuawolfsalt @candycandy00 @nekonanamii @sirimiripetrichor @collectionofdolls @dreamsxmerci

You sighed as you walked towards your classroom, dragging your feet, knowing full well what was waiting for you. It was the end of the day and it was your turn to clean up the classroom and just your luck- you were paired up with the two people you couldn't stand.

Gojo and Geto. The two 'strongest' sorcerers of your school. Their reputation preceded them. One of them was the prodigal son of a famous family with a deadly technique while the other had an incredibly useful and powerful skill as well. Everyone disliked them to some extent, but nobody could deny that the Jujutsu world would be worse without them.

Which is why it always confused you as to why these two powerful men seemed to love bullying you.

They were never malicious but damn if they weren't annoying. They loved to tease and prank you, joking about how weak you were and how you couldn't do anything by yourself. Forget the fact that you were actually quite strong and capable- but compared to them- everyone was weak.

But they seemed to enjoy bullying you especially even if there were classmates who were of lower grade than you. Stealing your drink right before you were going to take it from the vending machine, taking unflattering pictures of you and distributing it, embarrassing you in front of strangers by treating you like a dumb baby in front of them, making loud sex noises if you were on the phone with someone, tossing away your books and stealing your money-

Gojo spanking your ass casually a few times, Geto licking off some chocolate that was smeared next to your lips like it was a normal thing to do and even that one time when they cornered you in the hallway and convinced you to let them grope your boobs:

"If you let us squeeze your tits, we'll leave you alone for a week~" Gojo had said, wangling his fingers comically as they both stared at your chest like perverts. The offer was too good to give up which led to them squeezing your clothed tits for ten second each before they left, laughing at how easy it was to use you. And of course, they continued to bother you anyway.

You could have made a complaint to the higher ups about their behavior, something your friends have told you to do but you refused. You didn't want to be the wuss who was running to the elders over something so childish when everyone has an important job to do. Dealing with some bullying was easy compared to fighting to the death with some curses.

Besides, if you reported on them...

You steeled yourself before opening to the door to the classroom, met with the sight you expected: Gojo and Geto, lounging around, not doing any work as they waited for you to do it for them because, in their words: 'the weaklings need to put in more effort'.

But what you were not expecting to see was your phone in Gojo's hand using earplugs that he had connected to the device. You knew you left your phone in the locker assigned to you in the hallways which meant these two managed to pick the lock and take it. But the anger over that was dwarfed by your sudden realization:

The way they were looking at you as you closed the door, giving you a shocked look but you could tell there was an underlying hint of pure glee.

Uh oh.

"Give me back my-"

You yelped as Geto suddenly grabbed your wrist and pulled you towards him, barely giving you a second to collect yourself before he wrapped his arms around your neck, catching you in a choke-hold. Before you could even react, he pulled your back against him and manhandled you as he sat on a classroom bench and forced you to sit between his legs, wrapping said legs around you. You were completely caught, your nails doing nothing even as you dug it into his arms.

"Holy fuck!" Gojo explained, eyes wide and a huge grin on his face as he continued to listen to the audio on your phone, looking over at you and Geto opposite of the table he was sitting on, "You're a perverted freak, aren't you?"

"Give it back!" you snapped, grunting in annoyance as you tried to break out of Geto's hold but the man simply laughed as he held you tighter, his legs not budging.

"This is some nasty stuff!" Gojo continued, "Who knew a weakling like you would be such a masochistic slut~" he removed the earbuds from the socket and increased the volume as he confirmed what you had feared:

"Yeah? you like that don't you? Little slut~" a man's voice echoed throughout the room from your phone speakers, "Everybody looking at you as I fuck this sloppy little pussy~ Oh this cunt is dripping for me- did you like being spanked in front of them so much?"

It was an erotic audio you had saved on your phone, one of many that you enjoyed in private. You had even saved it under non-suspicious names which meant that the boys were digging through your files to find something- and they did.

"This isn't even the only one we heard, you know." Gojo explained as he dangled the phone in front of you mockingly, "What was it again? A girl getting humiliated by her teacher in front of her classmates-"

"A girl getting groped by her boyfriend on a crowded train." Geto recollected, his lips so close to your ear you could feel his hot breath dance against your skin.

"Being used as a free-use toy by a group of guys~" Gojo said, a giant shit eating grin on his face, "Seems like this one has a humiliation kink~"

"I'm not surprised." Geto said, leaning into your ear and blowing into it, making you gasp and jump, "No wonder she never reported us to the principle for all the times we preyed on her. She was probably enjoying it."

"Oh!" Gojo said like he just realized it, "Was that why? Was your pussy growing wet every time we bullied you, little slut?"

"Fuck you." you spat out, both of the men laughing in response.

"Yeah, I bet you wanted us to fuck you." Geto growled into your ear, your shiver not going unnoticed by him, "You're fucking loving this~"

"Why don't we check?" Gojo suggested, cutting off anything you might have said, his hands inching towards your belt, a dangerous gleam in his eyes, "Let's see for ourselves if we made your pussy wet~"

"Gojo-"

"That's a great plan!" Geto interrupted, laughing as he tightened his hold your your neck, making you gasp, "Take those pants off. So baggy and loose- what a waste of a nice ass."

"I agree." Gojo said, finger now running over the metal of your belt, "it hides so much. With what I felt everytime I've spanked you- your pants do you no favors."

"Don't you- fucking dare!" You choked out, face turning slightly red from the lack of air and from Gojo slowly starting to fiddle with your belt.

"Oh, what are you gonna do about it, little slut?" Gojo teased, licking his lips as his long, lithe fingers started to tug at the leather of your belt, "Look at your fucking face- that look in your eyes? You're loving this."

"No- I'm not- fuck-" you sputtered out, failing to convey your frustrations. You couldn't stand these two assholes. Constantly picking on you and thinking they were so high and mighty- treating you like a bug on their path. So smug and narcissistic and not caring about anyone but themselves-

But as much as you'd hate to admit it, you couldn't deny that your body was throbbing. Everytime they bullied you, you felt that heat. Your heart-rate quickened and your pussy would grow wet, leaving you a confused mess every-time you got bullied. When it first happened, you didn't understand what was happening. Through some internet searching, you found those audios and realized you weren't the only one out there.

A masochist with a humiliation kink.

And without them knowing, the two guys you hate were fulfilling those fantasies for you.

Well now, they were more than aware.

"Come on, little bitch~" Geto cooed into your ear, his silky voice making you shudder, "Why settle with these audios when you can experience the real thing?"

"I...I..." you panted, heat rushing to your face and your heart pounding in your chest. You could feel your pussy dampen and had no doubt that if Gojo actually took your pants off, they'd see you be wet and needy.

"Too slow~" Gojo suddenly said, unbuckling your belt in a matter of seconds before ripping it off of you just as fast, throwing it aside. You yelped as you instinctively struggled, Geto laughing behind you as he tightened his hold on you even more, rendering you helpless. Gojo laughed as well, his bright blue eyes peeking from behind his glasses as you could see the gleam of excitement in them.

"You excited, little bitch?" Gojo cooed, licking his lips as his hands started trailing up your leg, running over the fabric of your pants as he inched up higher and higher. Everywhere he touched felt like it was on fire, a rush of heat coursing through you.

"He asked you a question." Geto said, clicking his tongue as you refused to say anything, "Weren't you taught any manners?"

"Fucking- i'll kill you-" you gasped out, face growing redder as you heard Geto's growl of annoyance, feeling the vibration of his chest against your back. "Don't worry about it, Suguru." Gojo said, smirking as he started undoing the buttons of your pants, "We can punish her later for her disrespect. For now, I just want to get at this pussy~"

With a big grin, Gojo ripped your pants off of you in one fell swoop, making you squeal as he tossed it away. You shivered as your bare legs were exposed to the evening air as well as their lecherous stares. You could see Gojo's eyes trail up your legs before zoning in on your clothed pussy, the man letting out a snort as he took in your panties.

"Pink with a bow on? Really?" he joked, "how plain and not sexy."

"I think they're cute." Geto chimed in, also shamelessly staring down at your clothed cunt, "But it doesn't matter. It's not going to be on her for long, anyway."

"True." Gojo said with a nod as he hooked his finger into the waistband of your panties and pulled it out before letting go, allowing the elastic to slap back against you, "but next time, wear something sexier."

"I hate you- so much!" you snarled, face bright red, biting your lower lip as the white haired man looped his fingers back into the waistband of your panties, this time, very obviously wanting to get it off of you. You gasped, unable to stop your shivers as Gojo leaned forward and placed a kiss on your tummy, his tongue peeking out to lick at your skin as he slowly starting pulling your panties down. He laughed as you tried to squiggle out but your movements only made the slide of your panties all the more easier for him.

"Look at that~" Gojo gasped as your cunt got exposed, practically drooling as he stared like a pervert, a twinkle behind his blue eyes, "You might be a weakling but atleast you have a pretty pussy."

"Atleast she's good for something~" Geto teased, shuffling behind you and in that moment, you felt it. Something long, hard and thick pressed up against your back and it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what that was. You gulped as you felt the imprint of Geto's cock against you, unable to help yourself as your eyes darted towards the front of Gojo's pants and sure enough: His erection was straining against it.

They were too focused on your cunt to notice where you were looking and you were too focused on their dicks to notice that your panties were now completely off and that Gojo had tossed the fabric aside. Geto immediately hooked his legs over your own before forcefully spreading them apart, leaving you wide and exposed to their perverted gazes. Gojo let out a whistle as he dragged a chair over before sitting on it, his face now right across your bare cunt.

"Fuck- fuck you- fuck you!" you gasped out and cursed, feeling lightheaded from the situation. "How does she look?" Geto asked, both of them ignoring you and you could hear the hunger in his voice and the sensation of his cock twitching against you. "Oh, she's perfect~" Gojo responded and you knew they were referring to your pussy as its own person- somehow giving it more praise and respect than they've ever given you, "And oh so wet~"

"I want to see." Geto demanded, not having the same view as Gojo, "Can't let you have all the fun."

"Sure thing, pal." Gojo said, not taking his eyes off of your pussy as he continued to stare, hand reaching into his pocket to pull out his phone. "Gojo- don't you dare-" You barked out, understanding what he was going to do- but what you hoped sounded aggressive came out soft and subservient. The man simply snorted in response, ignoring your pleas as he opened up his phone camera and started taking pictures of your pussy. You shut your eyes and squealed everytime you heard the shutter of the camera, trembling body still held tightly in Geto's arms.

"Her hole clenches every-time I take a picture~" Gojo cooed, bringing a hand up to thumb at your pussy lips before spreading them apart even more, making your back arch against Geto, "And look at this little clit! So fucking cute!"

"Just show it to me already!" Geto snarled, impatient. "Alright, alright." Gojo responded with a roll of his eyes, standing up before turning the phone towards the two of you, a shot of your spread pussy on screen. You turned your head away and closed your eyes, ears ringing at how humiliated you felt-

and pussy dripping at how good it was.

"Oh, she does look delicious!" Geto praised, gripping your chin as he forced you to turn your head back towards the phone, making you look at the picture, "You have such a pretty cunt and you hid it from us for so long?"

You whined cutely as you looked at the picture- a closeup shot of your spread cunt with a clear view of your clit and hole, your cunt glistening with slick.

"Seriously!" Gojo barked as he started swiping, showing off the various photos of your pussy that were now in his possession, "If we knew all you wanted was some fucking, we'd have pounded this pussy ages ago! I've always wanted a sex toy."

"Don't you have like a dozen already?"

"Yeah, but I'm sure this bitch's cunt will feel way better than some silicone~"

"I hate you-" you gasped out, any and all fight leaving your bones (not that there was much to begin with) as you leaned your head against Geto's shoulder, "I hate you both- so much-"

"Yeah?" Geto asked, the tone in his voice clearly indicating that he wasn't taking you seriously, "Well, this pussy says otherwise."

He let go of your chin and snaked his hand down quickly to cup your pussy, making you yelp. You didn't know if what you felt was shame or relief that there was finally a hand on your cunt- finally some friction against your dripping womanhood. You tossed your head back, eyebrows furrowed and lip trapped under your teeth as Geto's long fingers started gliding through your pussy lips. The slick sound of him rubbing circles over your hole and collecting your wetness echoed through the room, the sound making your ears burn and your chest feel like it was on fire.

This is was so...so...

so fucking fun...

"She's loving this~" Gojo predicted accurately, eyes darting between your blissful expression and Geto's fingers toying with your body, "Fucking whore- slutty bitch- oh, we are going to have fun with you~"

"Her pussy is growing wetter by the second." Geto noted, cock fully erect and throbbing against you, his other arm slowly letting go of the hold around your neck, confident that you were going to stay right there like a good little girl. You gasped as the head spinning pressure was finally off of you, taking in a few deep breaths but choking on it just as quickly as the man started using his slick covered fingers to run circles over your clit.

"You're dripping all over the table, little bitch~" Gojo teased, taking a couple more pictures before pocketing it, "Fuck- let me feel too- or- actually-"

He sat back on the chair, pulling it closer before gripping your thighs, an eager grin on his face:

"I'm gonna eat~"

"Get used to this, little bitch." Geto growled into your ear, pulling his hand away from your cunt and snickering at your whine of disappointment, "You're our toy now and we are going to do whatever we want to you, understand?"

His hands came upto your chest, lithe fingers starting to undo the buttons of your shirt one by one, revealing a patch of skin before the peeks of your bra. Gojo licked his lips and moved forward, his hot breath fanning against your slick cunt.

"Whatever. We. Want."

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Hiiii I absolutely loved you Max fics I don’t know if you ever would want to do that but if your interested please do a mafia storyline with Max or Mick! ❤️

Little Lion Man || MV1 & CH16

Pairings: dark!Charles Leclerc x fem!reader, Max Verstappen x fem!reader Summary: you find yourself caught in a war between the mafia families that ruled Monaco. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, guns, murder, pregnancy, slight non con/reluctant vibes, forced marriage WC: 3.5k

For a nation so small it was hard to believe that Monaco could be home to not one but three mafia families. There was the Leclerc famile, Verstsppen familie and the Sainz familia. The Leclerc’s had always called Monaco home but the Dutch and Spanish families had made their arrival known in the 90’s, almost burning the city in the war that broke out.

Just over 30 years later, it looked like history was going to repeat itself as the prodigal sons took over the family businesses.

“You are my daughter, if I say you will marry Charles then you will marry him. End of argument.” You would hardly call it an argument when you weren’t even given an opportunity to say your piece but your father left no room for a rebuttal as he slammed the door closed behind him. There was a reason the Sainz’s called him the Peacemaker.

You were a bargaining chip, a pawn in your father’s arsenal to end the war between the Leclerc’s and the Sainz’s before it could spill out into the street and affect everyone’s bottom line. The last thing anyone wanted was to lose their men, their money and their product.

Two weeks later you were shoved into a wedding dress that could have been a film prop for any 80’s rom-com, puffy sleeves and all. It was hideous.

“You are quite beautiful,” Charles said as you reached the dais where the priest waited. “I suppose that will make this easier.”

By ‘this’ you assumed he meant the moment the reception was over and you found yourself stepping into his bedroom, your bedroom too now. Charles had been quiet for most of the evening, indulging in a handful of whiskeys over ice as he mulled over what his life had become, but he found his voice as he tugged his tie off. “On the bed.”

Your fingers tightened around your waist as you hugged yourself, trying to fight back the tears you thought you had finished shedding when you resigned yourself to your fate. “You don’t have to do this, we can come to an arrangement.”

Charles scoffed and continued to unbutton his dress shirt. “This is the arrangement.”

You swallowed as he shucked the shirt over a leather armrest and you saw the dark tattoos that curled over his biceps and down his forearms. A snake moved with his muscles and entwined around a gothic cross. Beneath it, thorny roses with blood drops splattered over the petals decorated the otherwise sun kissed skin.

“I don’t know what my father told you but I-”

“Your father said you would be an obedient wife,” he interrupted as he pointed a ringed finger to the bed. “I’m only as terrible as you make me.”

You took a step back as he stepped closer, his hand lifting to your face. It was reflex to flinch from his touch, knowing the violence his hands were capable of dealing to those who displeased him. You couldn’t help shivering as his cold wedding band touched your cheek and his other arm snaked around your waist, dragging the zip of your dress down your spine.

“What does that even mean?” you whispered. You took a breath and grew the courage to tip your head back and met his uniquely green eyes - the colour brighter than the soul behind them.

He pushed the puffed sleeves from your shoulders until the dress fell to the floor and inhaled at the sight of your body being bared to him. Biting his lip, he stepped back and ran a hand over his shadow of a beard. “Behave yourself, and I will too. Push me, and I’ll push you back harder.”

You felt the colour drain from your face at the threat and he chuckled as he closed the distance between you, forcing your lips apart with a demanding kiss. His palms ran down your spine and over the curve of your ass, pulling you flush against the hard expanse of his body.

“One other thing,” he murmured against your lips. “Disappoint me or my family and, well…it will be the last thing you do, chérie.”

You collapsed into Max’s arms the moment he opened the door, your fingers digging into the straps of muscle along his back as you clung to him like a lifeline. The penthouse apartment was quiet except for the tv playing in the master bedroom and your sobs filled the foyer before he could even close the door.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Max said, despite holding you just as tight. “He probably has Arthur or Lorenzo following you.”

You started to pull back but his arms caged you in his embrace so you settled for talking into his chest. “I know how to lose a tail. I was careful.”

He sighed and rested his cheek on your head, inhaling the floral scent of your shampoo he had missed. “I know, liefje. How long is he gone for?”

You screwed your eyes closed and wished he had never brought Charles up, but you knew Max wanted to know how long he could have with you. “He’s in Nice for a meeting. A few hours at least.”

The hatred for your husband had led you into the arms of Max, his rival and head of the Verstappen familie. The three families would meet each quarter for negotiations and settle disputes, or at least that was what it was meant for, but they just used it as a way to flaunt their wealth and success over each other.

It was after the wedding when you went to your first one that Max had caught your lifeless eyes as you sat beside Charles, decked out in a custom designer dress with diamonds strung around your neck, slowly choking you. He had been struck down by the vision before him and had never wanted something for himself so much in his life. He had been willing to go to war for you and he didn’t even know your name. He had learned it soon enough.

“Do you know who he’s meeting?” Max asked. Even when he wasn’t meaning to he was phishing for information, a reflex he couldn’t seem to stop with a mind as sharp as his.

“Please, mijn leeuw, not tonight,” you whined as you buried your face in his neck. (My lion)

“I’m sorry,” he said with a kiss to your forehead before he tipped your chin back to meet his ice-blue eyes. “What do you need from me, liefje?”

“I need to forget. Please, help me forget.”

Max closed his eyes as rage hardened his features and you knew he was rueing the day he let Charles live. The solution to your problem couldn’t be solved with a bullet and although Max knew that, it was still a bitter pill to swallow. He wanted nothing more than to bathe in Charles’ blood for what he had done to you, but the retaliation would be catastrophic. He had too many people relying on him, friends and family alike.

All Max could give you was a few short hours of his time to show you how he would treat you if the circumstances had been kinder. For a few short hours of stolen time he could erase the touch of Charles from your mind.

Max took your hand, his fingers easing your wedding ring off before placing it on the hall table with your handbag. You relished the freedom that came without the constricting band and flexed your fingers like it had been physically painful to wear the gold jewellery. In a way, it had.

Linking his fingers with yours, Max led the way through the apartment and into the bedroom you found comfort in. This should have been the place you called home, the solace you returned to at the day’s end. It was the one place you felt safe, even though just being here put your life in danger. If Charles ever found out you knew you would be dead, your body left somewhere it would never be found.

“Max…do you believe in God?” you asked in the quiet afterwards. Your arm was curled around his waist, fingers tracing the lion tattoo that covered his rib cage. You could feel the time ticking away with each heartbeat in his chest that you rested your head upon.

“No,” he said honestly, his accent thickening with his amusement. “Do you?”

You looked at the slight change in skin tone where your wedding band usually sat and slipped out of his embrace to find your clothes. “I have to,” you whispered as your throat began to tighten at the thought of returning to the cold mansion Charles owned. “There’s got to be something more than this hell. Maybe one day he will answer my prayers.”

Max could remember the feeling of taking over the family business, how he thought he was invincible - godlike even. Now he felt powerless to the situation. He didn’t like the feeling. He wanted to be the one to answer your prayer.

“One day…” he promised himself aloud, missing the way your spine stiffened at the words. There was no guarantee you would survive long enough for him to keep it.

You stared dumbly at the two pink lines and felt the walls of the bathroom constricting around you. You couldn’t imagine bringing a child into the world you were imprisoned in, it was unfair and deadly. What if the babe had dirty blond hair and ice blue eyes? A new fear sent a shudder down your body and you looked at your stomach, nothing to show - yet.

The door crashed off its hinges as Charles busted it in and you screamed at the surprise, cradling your abdomen on reflex.

“I called you ten fucking times!” Charles growled. His eyes narrowed as they scanned the room before settling on the pregnancy tests lined up. For the first time since you had wed him, Charles looked lost for words, and after a moment his hard stare softened. “We are having a baby?”

You couldn’t remember when he ever addressed anything as ‘we’, it was always you and him - separate, not together. You didn’t know how to react to the instant change in him but you nodded stiffly as he waited for an answer.

A smile grew on his face as he stepped forward and pulled your hands away from your stomach to place his own beneath your camisole. “My son, my heir,” he chuckled, the warmth of his palms almost blistering your skin.

“It might be a girl.” You flinch at the look he gave you and muttered an apology. Just because he was suddenly being gentle didn’t mean he would stay that way, especially if he ever found out the child wasn’t his. Nausea rolled through you and you pushed away to hurdle yourself at the toilet before you emptied your stomach.

It wasn’t morning sickness.

It was a sickness of the heart.

You knew if Max were to believe the child was his then he would have no choice but to go to war, it was a matter of pride and family. On the other hand, Charles would never let the child live if it wasn’t his and despite just learning of its existence, you were willing to do anything to protect it. You needed to tread carefully and that meant no more escaping your guards to see Max. It meant playing the good wife, at least for the next eight months.

You could feel his intense stare from across the table, willing you to meet his eyes. Too many times you felt them drifting up from your husband’s hand clasped on your lap only to snap them back down before you could give in. It would do no good to look at Max. You hadn’t seen him since the night before you took the pregnancy test and you had dreaded going to the quarterly meeting.

There was no hiding the bump in the tight dress Charles had chosen for you. There was no way that Max had missed it when you walked in on your husband’s arm. He had seen it and he had questions.

“I’m going to the ladies room,” you excused yourself after the meal, while the men talked business.

“Arthur will go with you,” Charles said with a nod to his younger brother sitting at his other side. “I don’t trust any of these assholes.”

His hand lingered on the small of your back as you stepped out and you glanced across to see Max’s eyes fixated on that touch. Though you did not welcome the hands of your husband, you no longer feared them the way you used to. Charles was far gentler now that you were, potentially, carrying his heir. It could also be Max’s.

A hand clasped over your mouth and silenced the scream that rose in your throat. “It’s me,” Max whispered, soothing your racing heart.

You looked around the powder room wondering how he had made it past Arthur and saw a narrow cleaner’s entrance left open a crack. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“You never came back, never answered my messages.” The hurt in Max’s voice made your chest ache and your hands dropped to the growing swell of your abdomen. He followed that movement, his chest filling with the deep breath he took and the pearl buttons on his shirt started to strain until he exhaled. “I didn’t believe the rumours.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” he asked, the biting tone wanting detailed explanations like you were one of his men answering for your actions.

Your lips parted, ready to tell him exactly what you were sorry for, before they slammed shut. “I should go.”

He caught your arm as you moved past and he pulled you flush against his body to bury his face in your neck. “Tell me, please. I’ll make it happen, I’ll answer your prayers, I’ll go to war for you - for both of you. Just tell me, is it mine?”

The confession threatened to slip past your lips, the truth that you didn’t know, that he very likely could be. The confession threatened to eat you alive like it had done every time you saw one of Max’s men around Monaco. They always managed to get a message to you, but you never had a response to send.

“No,” you muttered as you pushed him away.

He rocked back on his heels but remained steady as he watched you retreat to the exit. “No, it isn’t mine or no, you won’t tell me?”

Your back hit the door and you blindly reached for the handle, sparing one last look at his shimmering eyes so you could remember them a little longer. “Whatever helps you to sleep at night.”

“Dammit, liefje, just tell me. I need to know.”

You broke away at the endearment that weakened your resolve and your shoulders curled in on themselves. “I can’t tell you, Max, because I don’t know. I. Don’t. Know.” Your voice cracked and the weight of those words fell tenfold on your shoulders as your hand slipped from the doorknob. “I don’t know who the father is, Max. I-I’m sorry.”

His strong arms grappled you into a tight embrace as you broke down in them, your knees giving out as you felt his lips on your forehead, smelt his cologne on his neck. “It’s okay, liefje, I'm going to fix this.”

You pulled back with eyes and blinked away the tears as you placed your hand on your belly. “How? What if it’s not yours?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of everything,” he promised as he tipped your chin back. “Mine or not, this baby is yours and that’s enough.”

A knock sounded at the door and you panicked as Arthur asked if everything was alright. Your reply was muffled as Max stole a kiss and quietly repeated his promise before disappearing back into the cleaner’s room. Wiping your eyes, you unlocked the door and met your brother-in-law’s narrowed eyes before they searched the room behind you. “You’ve been crying.”

“Pregnancy,” you said with a wave of your hand. “It’s called hormones, Tur. Happens all the time, just ask your brother.”

Max’s chair was still empty when you reached the table but he entered from the main door a few minutes later. The mask he often wore in front of those outside the familie was firmly in place as he unbuttoned his suit with one hand and dropped back into his seat, apologising for taking an important call.

“Your men can't handle one evening on their own?” Charles baited over the rim of his wine glass with an antagonising smile.

Max returned the grin with his own as he slipped his phone into his suit jacket. “You have no idea what my men are capable of.”

You could feel the ripples of those words across the table, the feel of a threat in the air. It not only set Charles on edge but Carlos too - the two sharing a look of concern before facing the Dutchman once more.

Max took a mouthful of his gin and tonic and bit into the lime wedge without reacting to the strong citrus taste. Taking his time, he picked up his napkin and cleaned the drops of juice from his fingers before laying it over his lap as everyone watched closely.

It looked as if he were nervously fiddling with his rings under the napkin and Carlos snickered, relaxing back into his chair until your lion spoke again. “But you will…”

The air stilled for a moment as the napkin drifted to the floor and warmth splattered your cheek. You couldn’t think fast enough to process what had happened or why the wetness on your cheek was red. It could have been minutes but it felt like hours before your brain connected the dots and you saw your husband's body slumped in his chair before you, his green eyes open but unseeing.

Across the table, Max had risen to his feet, the fidgeting revealing a silencer he had been screwing onto his gun. He was cold and precise as he took out Carlos next, his accuracy unmatched. Around the seats he went, faster than they could react as the doors were busted open and his second in command arrived. Danny was ready to die protecting Max’s back while you dropped to the floor and prayed for protection of your own.

“We have to get out of here,” Arthur growled as he caught your ankle and dragged you back where he was kneeling, his white chinos turning red as they absorbed his brother’s blood. “Stay low, protect my nephew.”

“Do you have a gun?” you asked with a shaking voice.

“Of course not,” he spat angrily. No one was meant to have weapons at these meetings and you were assuming Max had retrieved his from the reception area before returning.

“Then you’re fucked.” You kicked your Louboutin into his face and scrambled away as he howled in pain, reaching the edge of the table close to Max.

“Liefje, are you alright?”

“Arthur, under there,” you rushed as you pointed behind you, closing your eyes as he lifted the cloth and the muffled gunshot rang out.

“Not anymore.”

“Time to go,” Danny suggested, reloading his magazine and kicking a few bodies to check they were truly dead.

“Is that it?” You asked, hope filling your voice despite the devastation in the room surrounding you.

Daniel threw his head back and laughed but Max just shook his head and said, “This is just the beginning. We just declared war.”

“But they’re dead.”

“Someone will take over, and when they do - we will need to be ready.” Max reached out and wiped the blood from your cheek. “You’re free of him now, you both are.”

Your breath rattled out of you as you felt the weight lift from your shoulders and as the sirens grew in the distance you managed to smile, the first genuine smile in months. Your prayers had finally been answered. “Thank you, mijn leeuw.”

Five Months Later

Ice blue eyes met yours before a piercing cry erupted and Max’s laugh was one of pure joy. “Mijn zoon,” he cooed softly as he rested his cheek on your head and you watched the midwife gently bring your son to your waiting arms.

Tears blurred your vision at the warm comforting weight of his tiny body lying chest to chest with you. You had never felt anything more precious, never held anything more delicate. He was perfect.

“My little lion man,” you whispered, brushing a kiss over the tufts of dark hair he already had. “We love you so much.”

As if he knew what the words meant, his eyelashes fluttered and he peeked them open to bear twin green irises. He would be an heir. He could unite the families. Or, he could tear it all apart.

Only time would tell.

[the-daydreaming-show]

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐚 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧(?) 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐬, 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐞 (but patience).

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: A small collection of stories like Batmom! Scarlet Witch as a mother for her children, unintentionally but not by accident, and how it started all with each one.

Being a member of the Wayne family comes with its quirks.

Being Bruce Wayne's wife has twice the quirks when you consider your husband's nocturnal activities, and it's this second category of quirks that usually concerns you the most.

Or at least that's what you thought would happen when you married him. But, even with being a retired vigilante yourself and already knowing everything that Bruce was Batman implied, it turned out that the other side of the coin was the one that began to bother you the most.

¿Your husband goes out every night dressed as a giant bat and comes back just before the sun rises?

No problem, you handled that like a champ.

¿The city press, who are desperate to know about the woman who finally put Gotham's prodigal son off the market and how the marriage goes every moment of every day?.

Yeah, you hadn't been ready for that.

Over time you got used to the drama and the questions, it helped that you could read their minds before they asked the question for your response planning. But there was one question that haunted you from the first official gala you and Bruce attended after the wedding (which was less than two weeks after the wedding, by the way): ¿When are you going to be pregnant? ¿When do you plan to have a child? ¿Can we soon expect ball gowns to become looser for a bulging belly with a Wayne heir?

And so, on and on, for infinity.

The answer had been maybe or someday, considering that they were both of you still young and in no rush.

In truth, tho, you two had never really considered the possibility of having children. Bruce didn't feel fit to be a father for many reasons. And the possibility of you passing your powers to a biological child was too high to risk. So it was never a card on the table to have children together when you got married, and you both were fine with that. There were talks about adopting as a possibility, but far in the future, like it was almost like a fantasy you two knew that would probably never happen anyway.

But then, things happened…

ACT ONE: a boys tale.

chapter one is Richard “Dick” Grayson

chapter two is Jason “Jay” Todd

chapter three....... (coming soon)

chapter four....... (coming soon)

chapter five....... (coming soon)

ACT TWO: is a girl's world.

chapter six....... (coming soon)

chapter seven....... (coming soon)

chapter eighth....... (coming soon)

TAGLIST: If someone wants to be added or removed from this list, you can request it. The TAG LIST is OPEN.

@some-lovely-day @simonsbluee @yuki-chan23 @miyakana @myst3batz @otchae @d3m0n8ch1ld @marsenbie @mynameisnotlaura @andieperrie18 @totallynotme420 @igotmessymind @amarawayne @calsjack @kodzukenmaaa @mellowdiy @noah-uhhh-what @blarba-girl @dead-sane-stuff @huhuhhuhh @kimmis-stuff @undecided-shipper @thedazzlingburglar @chxrry-blxssxm-tea @stilesxreid @blarba-girl @mellowdiy @noah-uhhh-what @dead-sane-stuff @huhuhhuhh @undecided-shipper @g0shikix3 @athenniene @cluelessteam @urminebutidontwantyou @pato-spoiler-27 @beanpd

[perlelune]

no body, no crime | Coriolanus Snow | xi.

Your childhood friend returns from his exile in district 12, but he's not the sweet, quiet boy you once knew anymore.

Warnings: NON-CON, Plinth!Reader, Gaslighting, Drugging, Murder, Forced Marriage, Forced Pregnancy, Loss of Virginity, Somnophilia

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

Hugging your frame, you retreat.

“I think you should leave Coriolanus.”

Your parents frown. He shakes his head.

“I’m not gonna let you deal with this on your own, princess.”

As he reaches for you, you shy away from him. 

“I’d rather be alone forever than be anywhere near you.”

His sky gaze clouds over with anger, the hand falling at his side slowly clenching into a fist.

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do, actually.”

Coriolanus gasps. A look of hurt spreads across his features as he gapes at you like you stabbed him in the chest. This is an expression you’ve never seen him wear. You grow uneasy. He turns to your parents and sighs.

“I told you she’d react this way,” he says, sounding dejected. “Between the hormones and…everything else I told you about. I knew she’d be in denial.”

Strabo squeezes his shoulder.

“It’s alright, son. It’s not your fault,” you father says, giving a forlorn smile.

Your mother’s eyes shimmer with concern as she looks at you.

“Sweetie, everyone cares about you here. If we just sat down and-”

A wave of irate heat surges through you. It begins in the pit of your stomach, swelling as you watch Coriolanus’ interactions with your parents. The way they comfort him, hug him. Like he’s more their child than you are. The prodigal son they always wanted.

After all, you are the throwaway child, you’re viciously reminded. The District 2 orphan they graciously took in who never quite met their expectations. Tragically lacking at every turn. A disappointment.

Your palms tingle as your blood starts to boil.

You rush down the stairs.

“No! Ma, Dad…” You seize your mother’s hand. “He lied to me, did things to me. He kept me in his house. He-”

Coriolanus’ brows thread, his eyes misting over with unshed tears.

“If you need to make me the villain in your story to make this okay, princess. Go ahead.” A mirthless chuckle floats from his lips. Once more, he looks at you like you’re the one causing him great hurt, not the opposite. His shoulders slump. “I’ll be the villain if that’s what you need.” He rubs his eyes, sadness twisting his features as he talks to your parents. “I’m sorry. I never realized it’d be this…difficult for her to accept what happened between us.”

“Nothing happened between us!” you shout, tears of frustration pressing behind your eyes.

He scoffs, blue gaze flicking over your belly. “Nothing?”

Your mother cups your face, her expression puzzled. “So Coriolanus isn’t…the father? You two never-” She glances at him then you. “Is William the father of your child then, sweetie?” She caresses your cheek. “We’re not judging you. We just want answers.”

You chew on your lip. Your attention darts from him to your mother, your insides clutching. A lie sizzles your tongue, nearly spilling in desperation, but you quell it. What would be the point? Your mother’s always known you wanted to wait. That was the plan, initially. And William isn’t the one you spent every day with for the last few weeks. Your parents are also aware of that fact.

There’s no doubt who the father is. They know it. You know it. And from the smug way he’s standing by your parents’ side, he also knows it.

“No, it…it can’t be William. It’s Coriolanus,” you admit begrudgingly. The words alone ache as they skip off your tongue. A single tear rolls down your cheek. “But he lied to me, Ma. So much.”

She tilts her head.

“Lied about what?”

Your eyes flood with tears.

“The night of the party, Sejanus-”

Your father’s thunderous voice interrupts your tearful confession.

“Enough!” he curtly rumbles. “You dare bring your brother into this? When Coriolanus was the only real friend he made all these years?”

A shocked exhale leaves your throat. You shake your head, hastily wiping your tears.

“Dad, you don’t understand-”

 “You’re not a child anymore!” he bellows.

His razor-sharp tone has you leap back in fright.

Your voice comes out small.

“Dad?”

He heaves out a deep sigh, pulling out his breast pocket square to dab the fat beads of sweat that have formed on his forehead.

“However this happened, it did.” He takes a deep breath. “Whatever mistakes were made, a child is involved now. A small, innocent child. My grandchild. I will not hear anymore about this senseless teenage drama.” You deflate, your eyes growing wide. The finality in your father’s words pulverizes the last shred of hope within you. “And I will not let my own daughter drag our house into further ruin after losing my only son.” Your father winces, his hand clawing his chest. His knees buckle and he starts sinking onto the floor. Your mother and Coriolanus rush to his side. Your jaw drops. All the color drains from his face. Your mother starts weeping. You go to your father, helping him sit in the living room with your mother and Coriolanus as he takes large gulps of air. It lasts a while, long, horrifying minutes, his wheezing breaths causing your own pulse to race. You begin to wonder if you'll lose a father on top of a brother.

“Breathe, Dad, please…” you whimper, holding his hand.

After some time, it thankfully stops. Your father’s exhales slow down and he regains some color. Relief fills you. You genuinely thought you were about to see your father die right before you.

“Take it easy, Mr. Plinth.”

“Honey, your heart…”

Strabo waves off his wife and Coriolanus as they fuss over him.

“I’m fine,” he assures, his frown returning. His disapproving stare cuts into you. You shrink. “You’re an adult now and you need to start acting like it.”

Your mouth opens then clamps shut. You don’t want to upset him again, not when the argument from before sent him in such a state.

You lower your head. “Y-Yes, dad.”

“Sit down,” he instructs.

“O-Okay.”

You take a dour seat on the opposite couch. 

“Coriolanus, you sit down too,” he adds.

Your stomach sinks. The blond’s eyes find yours across the room. Your father is still recovering, hand on his chest, and your mother is too busy caring for your father. None of them see what you do. The winning glint dancing in his blue orbs and the almost imperceptible smirk as he sits next to you on the couch.

“Of course, Mr. Plinth.”

Once your father is better, he and Coriolanus start discussing the logistics of your new…situation. The entire conversation is a vivid nightmare, making you question your own sanity. You are there, but might as well not be, with the matter-of-fact way your future is being discussed as if everything is already set in stone. 

Your heart skips a beat when Coriolanus promises your parents to marry you before the fall. He says he wants to do it quickly to avoid any gossip, before you start showing, but also provide enough time to make it grand and memorable. It’s a stark contrast to what you and William had in mind. A small, intimate gathering of only your parents and a few of William’s closest friends. You both decided you only really needed the other in the end.

Coriolanus however sounds like he wants the entire Capitol to watch him slip a ring on your finger. 

Your insides curl in horror.

The moment living arrangements are brought up, your heart races.

“I can’t move in with the Snows,” you interject, shocked by what your father just suggested. Though, it shouldn’t surprise you. Your father’s a traditionalist. Of course, he’d agree with Coriolanus that you should move out of their home and swiftly into his.

“You will have no choice. We’re selling the house.” 

You bolt to your feet, your brows grazing your hairline.

“What?”

“The paperwork is already signed.” Your father crosses his arms. “We are moving on the floor below theirs. I had the entire place renovated. It’s quite spectacular, you’ll see.”

A humorless laugh escapes from your throat.

“You can’t be serious.”

“It’ll be good, sweetheart. A fresh start,” your mother assures, rising to clutch your hands in hers. Her hopeful smile sends a wave of queasiness through you.

Your father’s gaze narrows.

“Coriolanus has graciously agreed to salvage your virtue by taking your hand in marriage…or whatever’s left of it, I suppose. You should be grateful he’s allowing you to save face. Many men would shirk the responsibility. You are lucky it was him.”

Your mind races, a million thoughts crowding it at once. 

“When is this move supposed to occur?”

“The entire house will be empty by the end of the week.”

Your breath catches. You give a slow, acrid nod.

“So it’s all been decided. I don’t get a say.” You snicker, backing away from your mom, backing away from all of them. This is a madhouse. Your brother died and they all lost their minds.

…Except for him.

He looks far too content with himself not to understand what he’s done to you, what he’s still doing to you. How could you be stupid enough to trust Coriolanus Snow?

You still remember the way he was at the Academy. Always observing, gauging, weighing in every situation to figure out what to do or say to get himself ahead. Always looking out for himself. You saw things in him that were never there. And now you’re paying the consequences.

“I don’t even know why you asked me to be here. Clearly, as always, you know best, Dad.”

“Sweetie…”

You slap away your mother’s tentative hand. Her mouth falls as heartbreak fills her eyes.

“May I be excused, Father?” you snap.

“You may,” he replies with a similar tone.

Turning your back to everyone in the room, you make a beeline for your room. 

The faint knock on your door is ignored as you bury your head further in your pillow. You don’t want to talk to anyone right now. No one in this house anyway. You have been betrayed. Sold out. Abandoned. By your own parents, no less. If Janus were here, this wouldn’t have happened, you’re sure of it. He always stood for what’s right. He never let anyone hurt you. He’d have never doubted a word coming out of your mouth. Your brother’s death left you prey to a monster.

“You shouldn’t have left the way you did. I knew you weren’t ready.”

Your head whips up. Adrenaline pours in your blood as you find Coriolanus leaning against your bedroom door. He locks it shut and you sit up immediately.

“All of this could have been avoided.”

“Leave me alone,” you hiss, shrinking in a corner of your bed.

Coriolanus frees a long, weary breath. He takes sluggish steps across your room. You tense when he sits on your bed. His deceptively soft voice propels ice in your veins.

“Like I said before, it doesn’t have to be like this. You’re making this harder than it has to be, princess.” He strokes your ankle. Bile rises in your throat. “I’ll be a good husband, a good father. I’ll take care of you, just like I promised.”

“How can you even be sure I’m pregnant?” you chance, hoping to erode that frustrating certitude laced in his tone. “It was just two or t-three times. It could be a mistake…”

A lopsided slant tugs his lips skywards.

“A mistake? After all the time I spent making sure it takes?” Befuddlement knits your brows. A chilling expression settles over the blond’s features. He chuckles. “Oh princess, god you are so sweetly naive. It wasn’t just three times.” A sinking feeling spreads through you. Coriolanus inches close to you, a small smile creeping on his face. “You know me, I’m a lot more thorough than that.”

You tremble, disarmed by his statement.

“What do you mean? It was. I remember…”

He arches his brow. “Do you?” Coriolanus cocks his head, fondling the side of your face. “You know, you look so pretty when you sleep. Vulnerable, defenseless. You also make such lovely noises. I mean, how could one resist…” You shudder, your eyes growing wide as saucers. “I’m glad the tea helped you find rest. You seemed so at peace. Like that sleeping princess in the fairytale. You never stirred, never woke up, never screamed. Not even once. You just kept making those sweet little noises…” His smile broadens, crooked and taunting. “Like you couldn’t get enough of it.”

You gasp and leap from your bed. The implication behind his words makes your head throb, queasiness engulfing your entire being.

All those times you awoke feeling strange, your body tired in a way that didn’t make sense. 

Now it makes all the ghastly sense.

A sinkhole opens beneath you, the blood seeming to drain from your body all at once.

You stagger backwards until your back collides with the wall, the only thing keeping you on your feet as your knees threaten to give out.

You let out a shaky breath.

“Get out of my room.”

“I’ll come back tomorrow,” he announces matter-of-factly as he gets to his feet. He sighs. “Hopefully you’ll have calmed down so we can have the rest of your things moved to the penthouse.”

As your quivering frame clings to the wall, Coriolanus snorts.

“Cheer up, princess. You have a bright future ahead of you. I can already see us. Me as President and you as my beautiful First Lady. They will love you, I know it. Especially in the districts.”

“You’re…”

“Crazy?” he finishes. He approaches you. You’re paralyzed as he frames your jaw and articulates, “Not crazy. Focused.” His thumb skims over your bottom lip. “Which means when I want something, I usually get it.” His eyes twinkle. “Snow lands on top.”

He drops a quick kiss on your cheek.

“See you tomorrow, princess,” he chimes. You remain still until he unlocks the door and disappears through it. When he’s gone, you let yourself crash onto the floor, unable to hold yourself up anymore.  

You listen for the car outside, the sign of Coriolanus’ departure. Once the revving of the vehicle stops, only silence remaining, you make a mental checklist. You set aside the turmoil inside you, bottling every emotion tight. A warm coat. The sturdiest boots in your closet. Perhaps a dress or two. Sensible pants. Just in case. That stash of money Dad hides beneath a drawer in his study in case of emergencies. What else do you need? 

The more you mull it over, the more determined you become.

In a few hours, Coriolanus will return to take you away. He will not find you.

You will make sure of it.

As you rush through the cold streets of the Capitol, you keep pulling on the hood of your coat. Your panicked gaze darts across the night, your heart jumping every time so much as an alley cat crosses your path. Paranoia creeps in, making your nerves flare and your heart drum. 

What if Coriolanus had you followed? What if he was just waiting around a corner to drag you back to his house? Nothing is impossible nowadays. It might be silly but even as you snuck outside your childhood home, eyes seemed to trail your every step. Still, even as you peer around you, you find nothing but darkness crowding your sight. 

Your feet bounce as you linger on the doorstep. You hesitate before knocking, your fear and insecurities colliding inside you. You tremble as the chilly wind seeps through your coat. This could go so horribly wrong. You were so stupid. 

It would make all the sense in the world if he turned his back on you now. You wouldn’t even blame him. It’s what you deserve.

But before you can brace yourself to knock again, the door opens in front of you.

Overwhelmed with emotions, you toss your arms around him.

“William!”

He doesn’t move at first, frightfully still as you latch onto him. Your chest wrenches. Did you lose him as you feared? 

However, to your utter surprise, his warm, familiar hand sweeps over your back.

He lifts your chin.

“What’s going on…Are you okay?”

Whatever resentment he may have held onto, there is nothing but fondness and worry glistening in his forest gaze now. As if you never ripped his heart from his chest. As if you never left his loving embrace.

You grip the lapels of his shirt.

“William, I know what I said. I know you probably hate me…but I need to leave this place. Tonight.” Your voice warps with tears. “And I don’t want to do it alone.”

His brows draw together, confusion painted on his boyish features. He steps back to check you over. “Wait, slow down. Did something happen? Are you hurt?”

“I’m pregnant.”

William stares at you for a long time. Shock, hurt and a million other emotions fleet across his face. Guilt flickers through you. You should have had this conversation with him a while ago.

He bites on his thumb and chuckles but it’s bereft of any amusement. He paces across the room for a while, looking at everything but you. Your heart shatters as you watch him. You didn’t want to put him through this.

He stops in front of you eventually, his mouth tight and his gaze sharp.

“Tell me everything. For once, I want the truth.”

“William, we don’t have time. In a few hours-”

He cuts you off sternly. “I’m not going anywhere with you until you talk to me.”

Your shoulders sag.

“Right, that’s fair.” You gnaw on your lip. “I-I just don’t know where to start.”

He closes the door behind you. You let him take your hand and escort you to the living room. He points for you to sit across from him. William studies you, his hands joined in front of his face. His intense stares bears a hole into you. You fidget, wondering what he’s thinking. His face is hard to read. 

William releases a deep breath before running a hand through his tousled curls.

“How about you start at the beginning?” he says, his eyes diving into yours.

[therandomartmaker]

DPxDC, of dead hearts and brothers.

danny is damian’s older brother au; reincarnation type. danyal is the soft-hearted but still exemplary heir, but convinces ra’s that it is better to have him be the right-hand to damian, losing his heirship. ra’s, having danny as his favourite (cough danny and his inability to not be involved with old creeps lmao) allows him this; thinking that it’d allow danyal to be protected and also give him another option for youth (taking over damian’s body, afo-shigaraki style /hj)

this is all fine and dandy until ra’s decides damian has reached an equal skill to danyal’s stagnant training, and sets up a fight to the death. the lazarus pits are always there for the al ghul family, after all. he expects danyal to win. he expects damian to learn that all of his children are disposable. precious, but tools for ra’s’ use (all except precious danyal, the heart that kept giving).

danyal dies, damian’s sword stabbed into his heart, his last advice to “drive it in harder.” and his last words, “congratulations, brother.”

they bring him to lazarus pit, but it takes him. he sinks into the pool of acrid green and they wait; hours. a day. a week. he doesn’t resurface. they continue waiting because what else are they to do? they are al ghuls, not danal. not precious danyal who could mourn.

this proceeds, a sigil at the pit’s edge once a month, waiting for the lost son to return; but eventually damian is brought before the bat (far less dramatic, ra’s was tired of damian’s growing frustration without danyal to soothe him but no assassin’s had the same emotional state as danyal to provide a pseudo-sibling to play the same role; thus the bats’ family was the next option)

the bats only find out abt danyal when damian sets up for a day of fasting, facing the direction of the pit.

it’s dick who asks why he is fasting, and damian explains calmly. They learn of the boy who knew kindness, of the al ghul’s heart, of the prodigal heir turned advisor to damian. they learn of damian’s brother. when they find out why he’s dead, horror drips down their spines, at damian being forced to kill someone who’d only done good for him.

damian has one thing to say; “Danyal’s advice was not ‘how to kill’. i killed far better than he, after all. i was efficient, but danyal worked cleaner. Danyal’s advice… was ‘to kill your heart.’”

time moves on; damian is adjusted to ‘outside life’ far easier, danyal taught him how to interact with others and understand that words are rarely literal. the lazarus pits are quiet, madness unlikely in those brought from it, and jason affected far less in the long term. until one day there is a knock at the manor door.

alfred opens it, to see a dark haired young adult, assassins’ garb, injured. he does not seem conscious. alfred brings him in; calling the rest to reach a decision on how to treat him, and what his intentions are.

Damian wakes up to the sight of his brother in the moment that damian killed him.

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Here's a free pass for anything that feels okay

"This is ridiculous," Jason scoffed. He'd been hiding in the long bar. Nursing a drink. Avoiding the party. But now? He'd been dragged back out into the party. Where it was too bright. Too loud. And every marriage-minded mama was more than willing to marry their daughter to the prodigal Wayne son- given that Tim was an avowed bachelor and Dick was still too busy being a scoundrel.

"It's not every day you come back from the dead," Dick said cheerfully, "C'mon old man. There has to be one likely wallflower."

"Last I checked," Jason sighed, "I'd need to be introduced to them-"

"Well you're in luck," He said, waving Stephanie over. "Steph has spent WEEKS making friends all over the city. Just for you."

"This is obscene."

"And I have the perfect partner for your first dance," Steph said taking his arm. "She's absolutely the sweetest. And she'll be too shy to talk to you."

"That's something," he grunted. He'd forgotten how annoying giggling socialites could be. And he had no idea how Bruce and Dick put up with it.

"She speaks both Latin and Greek and has a divine singing voice when she can be persuaded," Stephanie said, pitching her voice to be heard as she marched him toward where you stood. Tucked away in a corner.

And Jason assessed you. Too old to need a minder necessarily but not at your last prayers. Bespectacled. And you were indeed shy. Smiling politely but it was clear that you really did prefer to wait things out.

Still. Steph had taken pains to make the introduction- he supposed it was the least he could do to squire you around the floor. Perhaps, if he danced with you it would stir some of the more timid men out of the bushes. A husband with a tidy bank account and a permissive streak would suit you.

"Your sister was sweet to think of me," you tell him.

"She thought we could be friends," he said, not wanting to sound rude.

You nod, "Of course. We could all use more friends."

Jason smiled a little, "Will you be going to the spiritualist meeting tomorrow?"

"No," you answer, smiling a little. "My Aunt has told me I'm not to go until I learn to stop pointing out their tricks."

"Tricks?" Jason asked, curious.

"Most of them are terrible charlatans you know," you tell him.

"Most?"

You shrug, "You came back from the dead," you tell him, "So they can't ALL be wrong."

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

i explain india but i'm drunk.

Hello maggots of mine you're all such babygirls and bastards just like Aziraphale and Crowley. I'm so proud of you all for existing. Yes i'm a wholesome drunk you now know this about me. The wine tastes like rotten grapes and smells of battery acid and cost 245 rupees INR. Speaking of INR, thanks to a maggot's ask, I'm here to explain India. I've never set foot outside of this country. But I'm also very very shit at general knowledge.

To any non-Indians reading this, this is a totally legit 1000% everything covered all-inclusive summary. To any Indians reading this, I'm so so fucking sorry.

India, explained.

So there's south india and there's north india and there's north east india. north india is very racist about south india and they're both very racist about north east india. Most of these people are also probably racist either to other countries or they have internalised racism. It's a wild trip.

There are. A lot of languages here. And a LOT of scripts. I can read two scripts, understand four Indian languages and speak in two of them (badly), and those two are not my native tongues. I cannot speak in my native tongues. It's basically English at this point. These aren't dialects, those are separate. Picture like, Europe, but more, in terms of how many languages.

Everyone hates each other which is valid for the entire planet honestly.

In south india we have a lot of coconuts. Like a lot. There are so many coconuts you have no fucking idea guys you cannot escape the coconuts. I was nearly killed by a shower of coconuts when I was 5 I escaped by one second.

There are also cows. People will tell you that you are being racist when you say India has cows everywhere. But it's true. Two weeks ago I had the pleasure to be stuck in a traffic jam. Next to the street barrier thing (what divides a street im too drunk for this) I saw a huge bull fucking HUMPING a cow. The vehicles just had to move around them. They were having sex right there.

If you're a middle class Indian kid, your career options are: doctor, engineer, scientist, CA, lawyer, government official or family disappointment.

Needless to say, I was going to be doctor and am now instead family disappointment. I'm babygirling so hard it's insane. The prodigal son.

It's very ace-friendly and heterophobic in the sense that you are not supposed to be exhibiting any sexuality whatever in a respectable household. Just shut up and give virgin birth already. But be married. That's crucial.

Oh yeah gay marriage isn't legal trans people are constantly othered by society and/or given no respect whatsover and we're just all vibing here this is totally not why I'm finishing a small bottle of cheap wine on a thursday past midnight alone in my room.

Foreigners are like a zoo species you see them you're instantly concerned like what are they doing outside the TV screens and then either people are normal (rarely), they run up and take photos or try to slip into conversation (more often than you'd think, even I've been guilty of the conversation thing as a kid) OR they start talking about how 'this western culture is ruining our culture'. Which is fair but honestly both the 'cultures' these people are talking about usually involve incredible amounts of bigotry and are more similar than they think.

I think the lesson here is that humans just suck as a species. Except for you maggots. I love you all and I will defend you with my life.

THE CHAAT. THE CHAAT IS INSANELY AMAZING. YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND THE CHAAT. I HAVE NO SPICE TOLERANCE SO I HAVE TO BEG ON MY KNEES FOR THE SPICES TO BE REDUCED BUT STILL. THE CHAAT. THE CHAAT, YOU GUYS. YOU NEED IT.

Sorry yes I'm normal. ALSO THE STREET DOGS. THE INDIES. THEY'RE SO LOVELY AND SWEET AND CHAOTIC AND I KEEP TALKING TO THEM. Once when I was crying I made the dog distress while and like five dogs that I didn't know came running to me and comforted me and licked me.

INDIAN DANCE MUSIC. I FUCKING LOVE IT IT'S INSANE. My family were elitist as fuck so I never got to listen to Bollywood music as a kid but it's AMAZING I'm so glad it exists. Bhangra too.

Beaches very very pretty hills very very pretty honestly the nature is fucking beautiful if you can just quickly pretend humans don't exist, which again is true of this entire planet. Yeah. Okay I'm so fucking drunk.

Yeah lots of diversity which is very nice when the humans aren't screaming at each other about it but the rest of the time it's very nice

The garbage and sewer stories? yeah they're all true im sorry

Traffic rules more like traffic suggestions amirite

Well, we still have far better healthcare access than america. so. there is that.

If you speak English well you'll be mocked and isolated. If you speak English poorly you'll be mocked and isolated. Honestly, just be rich. That'll fix it all.

All the conservatives hate each other and don't realise they're the exact same but in like different flavours.

Oh yeah we have auto rickshaws. Look them up. They're so much better than cars I don't get motion sick as easily in them. But the drivers all hate you and never want to take you anywhere.

Eyyyyyyyyyy it's so fucking fun here *drinsk more alcohol* I am so fucking not looking forward to college.

Please someone crowdfund me out of here let's all go chill in Alpha Centauri I've heard it's nice this time of the year.

I will, however, miss the casual live cow pornos. A true highlight.

[I got this peer-reviewed by my friend in India's top law school, just in case, because I'm too drunk and generally dumb. They say I will not be killed. And they've been on Twitter so.]

Irrefutable legal proof y'all. I don't mean to offend anyone except bigots. Fuck you, bigots, if you're not offended then I've disappointed my community.

[spinningwebsandtales]

Imagine Peter Rekindling His Crush On You

Peter Quill X FemReader

Rating: T

Warnings: Suggestive themes, spoilers, mentions of an abusive relationship, fluff

Word Count: 1.4k

(A/N:) Okay I have seen GOTG Vol. 3 twice now and I freaking LOVE this movie! It has reignited my love of Peter. I had this idea and I had to write it! I’m even staying up late to get it done as I want to get it posted ASAP! I hope my fellow Peter fangirls enjoy it as it has a little bit of angst and fluff. I had so much fun writing this and I hope I can get more ideas to write for Peter! Until next time happy reading! ~Countess

SPOILERS FOR GOTG VOL. 3 BELOW!!!!! DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVEN’T WATCHED THE MOVIE!!!

A week had gone by since Peter had returned to Earth and it had been pretty calm so far. Catching up with his grandfather had been easier than expected and his last remaining Terran relative welcomed him back like the prodigal son. But now Peter was wanting to find more people he had known all those years ago. It didn’t take long until his thoughts had begun to dwell on you. He remembered the crush he had harbored for you, even after Yondu had taken him away his thoughts had gone back to you if he was in need of something good to remember. He asked his grandpa about you, but for some reason the older man was keeping quiet about you. It aggravated Peter but he didn’t ask much, not wanting to push his grandpa’s buttons too much. Though he couldn’t shake the feeling that the older man was up to something.

It shocked Peter that one fateful day that you turned up to his grandpa’s front door, like it was the most normal thing in the world. You waltzed in easily, hands full with vegetables.

“Mr. Quill I brought you...,” you paused almost dropping your bundle of goods. You fumbled around, regaining control but still staring at Peter who sat on the couch. Normally he would have laughed at someone giving him such a look but he knew he had to have the same expression on his face. While he still loved Gamora so much, it was a blessing to see you once again. You aged, just as he had but he couldn’t help but see how much of a beautiful woman you had become.

“Peter,” you asked as tears pricked the corners of your eyes.

“Hi (Y/N),” Peter spoke while rising from the couch. He took the vegetables from you and laid them on the kitchen counter. You followed close behind, still unbelieving that Peter was standing right in front of you. Grown and more handsome than you could have ever imagined. You swallowed loudly, stepping closer to him. He leaned backwards, suddenly uncomfortable with how close you were. You suddenly hugged him, shocking him more.

“It really is you!”

Peter chuckled finally hugging you back, “Yeah. I had some loose ends to fix.”

You punched his shoulder roughly.

“Ow! What was that for,” he squalled.

“For leaving without saying goodbye,” you glared.

“I had no choice!”

You continued to glare before relenting. It wasn’t Peter’s fault, you knew that. But it had hurt that day that he had disappeared. You were sure he was as good as dead until you had saw Thanos’ defeat and Peter had stood amongst the heroes that had saved the Earth. But now with him standing in front of you in person, the relief was becoming so overwhelming. You had thought about him a lot since then and you were afraid that you would never get to see him again. Or that if you did get to see him, he wouldn’t remember you at all. But now you were so relieved that that wasn’t the case. You hugged him again, but this time he was scared you would punch him again. Peter held you away from him about to say something else when you looked down. A little boy that hid behind you, tugged on the hem of your shirt. Looking up at Peter with large bright eyes. Of course, you were married. Any guy would be stupid to pass you up, he just hated he was too late. You looked down at your son, rubbing the mop of his hair affectionately.

“Peter this is my son,” you pushed the little boy forward who pushed back too shy to stand before Peter. 

Peter’s eyes went from the young boy to your left hand. He didn’t spy a ring on your finger, but that didn’t mean you weren’t taken. He looked back to the boy who still was trying to escape. He squatted down getting eye level with him before smiling warmly.

“I’m a good friend of your mom’s,” he said holding out a hand. “We knew each other when we were kids.”

“Hi,” he answered timidly before looking back up towards you. Satisfied with him braving a new stranger you let him dart back behind you. You chuckled, shaking your head.

“He’s a little shy sorry about that,” you said.

Peter waved it off, though his heart hurt he was glad you found some happiness in life. You sent your son off to go play as Peter invited you to go outside to sit while you watched your son play. While you enjoyed the sunshine warming your face, Peter couldn’t help but look at your ring finger, the lack of ring bothering him. He didn’t have a right to be jealous of someone who had been there for you, but his heart was betraying him.

You were enjoying the silence, just glad to see Peter once again when he interrupted the silence.

“Who’s the lucky man,” he finally asked. His curiosity and jealousy too much to bear. You stiffened, refusing to look at Peter. You were really hoping he wouldn’t ask but of course he would once he saw your son. You sighed, deflating back into the chair.

“He’s not in our lives anymore,” you replied vaguely. Peter just continued to stare and you sighed again. “He left me a little after I gave birth. He was verbally abusive and he didn’t really love me. He just lied to get to me. I married him like an idiot and I suffered since.”

Peter felt his rage starting to choke him, especially when he saw a stray tear make it’s way down your cheek. He couldn’t imagine someone being so cruel to you and leaving  you alone to raise a child alone. His hands clenched into fists as he trembled in rage.

“He didn’t deserve you,” Peter snarled.

You jumped in your chair, surprised at the anger in Peter’s voice. Every emotion began to swirl inside your mind as you saw how much he actually cared about you.

“Any man that is dumb enough to marry you and knock you up just to belittle you and abandon you is not worth anything in any universe.”

Peter thought about his father who had killed his mother and left Peter alone in the world. If it hadn’t been for Yondu, in his own twisted way, rescuing him he wouldn’t be here talking with you. Peter suddenly took your hand giving it a gentle but firm squeeze.

“You deserve better,” Peter continued.

You laughed nervously a blush darkening your cheeks. “Laying that Quill charm on thick aren’t we?”

“I’m serious,” Peter replied. “He deserves better too.” He gestured to the little boy racing around the yard, giggling gleefully. You touched your cheek, surprised to find tears streaking your skin.

“I’ve missed you,” you whispered. Sure you had been so young when Peter left but it had left a void in your life you had tried to ignore. But now with him back on Earth and a grown man, you found that he had meant more to you than anything. You felt foolish for finding someone else to take his place and the one you found had been a waste of time. Your son was the only good thing that had come from that relationship and marriage. Peter tugged you back into another embrace, kissing your cheek. His beard quickly catching your tears as you clung to him tightly.

“I missed you too,” Peter said. He never wanted to let you go now that you were back in his life. While Gamora still hurt, he found that holding you and seeing you again felt right. He felt a conviction well up inside him, that he wanted to show you how much of a real man he could be.

“Can I take you and him out sometime,” he asked.

You sniffed before nodding. “I would like that very much.”

“Be prepared for the best date of your life,” he announced making you laugh.

“I’ll hold you to that,” you smiled through your tears.

“I want you too,” he replied before jumping up from his chair. He kissed you again before taking off after your son. The little boy squealed as Peter chased him around the yard, scooping him up and throwing him up in the air. You couldn’t lie to yourself anymore as old feelings came back to you. Peter was back in your life and you couldn’t say it was a bad thing at all.

[n30nwrites]

Rewind (Bridgerton)

Pronouns: He/Him

Relationships: Anthony Bridgerton x Kate Sharma, Penelope Featherington x Colin Bridgerton, Benedict Bridgerton x Reader, Anthony Bridgerton x Reader, Kate Sharma x Reader, Penelope Featherington x Reader, Colin Bridgerton x Reader

Soulmate AU, Polygamy, Reader is autistic

Warnings; Mentions of homophobia? Mentions of absent parents, Christianity but the Reader doesn't believe in God, Talks of Unwanted touching, Talks about canonical child death and sickness

This is just a small excerpt because no one else will fulfill what I need because I am very much in love with the people surrounding Bridgerton. IDK if I'll continue it.

You weren't the eldest son, nor were you the youngest. A Classic middle child, having your older brothers torture you and your younger ones followed in their footsteps soon enough. But all of your siblings wanted one thing.

Your parent's attention.

Your father, The King George, was a mad men, at least he was considered one. Your mother was too busy ruling England and keeping everything picture perfect to really care about you guys.

Well you didn't really count yourself as one of your siblings.

Simply because you weren't meant to be here.

When you were first taken to this universe, you had been a babe, just freshly born. It was strange, to have full consciousness when being a young'en. The minute you could, you were walking and talking, far earlier than any other babe, but you had too.

By the time you were five, you had been considered a spectacle. The prodigal son, they claimed. You had your wits, you were respectable, truly the perfect gentleman.

You played your cards right, up until you couldn't.

Growing older meant more siblings, and you took care of them the best you could. But you hated these new rules. You couldn't be alone with a woman who wasn't a relative, your brothers were rude and loved it, and your sisters were innocent. Naive really, which you felt was a strange thing. To know about Sex but they couldn't. You tried to teach your sisters as well, education was the future.

But it was all useless.

Eventually you became a recluse. You stuck to yourself, in your room with instruments. Your English guitar, harp-lute, piano, and even the improper ones like a violin, cello and flute. You had to make the best of a situation, and that was what you did.

Even well into your adulthood, your brothers were still your biggest bullies. They thought you were a prude for never having Sex, which frankly if women couldn't without being criticized and shamed, then you shouldn't either. They said you were secretly a woman, or queer.

Well you could attest you weren't a woman, and well you kind of were queer. Bisexual, but they wouldn't know that word.

But you were brought into this universe for some odd reason. You weren't sure why, you didn't really get into Bridgerton like everyone else. Not that you were different from others, you just couldn't commit to watching a tv series, but you had seen the edits.

It just made no sense for you to be the one. It wasn't until the marks appeared that you understood.

Soulmates. That was a new adaption. Apparently they were rare, rare enough that out of all your siblings, you were the only one to have one. Your mother said it was a gift from God, though you thank she only said that because the bishop was there when you got them.

Them as in multiple, that put the bishop out of his head. He said it was blasphemous, you were too entranced with them to care. A matching soulmark would tie you to these people. 5 people.

That was a lot of people to keep happy. Especially when this century wasn't very happy with queer couples and polyamory. After that, your mother had insisted you hide them, and you weren't willing to risk a Romanov situation because people were too religious.

Your mother didn't like that you weren't religious, but she didn't bring it up again after one intense arguement that caused you to leave for a few weeks.

But you agreed with her, you wouldn't tell others. You were here to find a way out, you already had some ideas, one being a specific spot in the woods where you found something from the future.

A portable Radio/Cassette player. Wasn't that far in the future where you were, but it would work. You had headphones with it, and you finally felt some sort of sanity. Music in this era wasn't nearly as relaxing as yours was.

Keeping to yourself was easy after that. Every servant was ordered to knock on your door loudly by you, and to stop any sibling that would come your way just in case they caught you. Your servants were almost your friends, you knew they were reqired to be there, to be kind to you, but it was the closest you had to an actual relationship.

You stayed away from your mother on days like this. She's irritated, you don't know why, you don't care to ask. Your siblings are stomping around the palace but you don't move from your room, you instead walk around your room, shirtless, listening to your music. Your favorite servant, Zelena, is behind you, just watching you. She's always been touchy with you, your hair, your chest, you assumed it was just the way she communicated. And while you were uncomfortable with it, your mother had told you that you couldn't afford to be rude to people.

Zelena stayed next to you while you played the English Guitar. You knew enough about it in your old life, having made adjustments to the strings to be able to play older songs. The ones you could remember (Which you wrote down because eventually, you wouldn't.)

You ignore the knock at the door, simply nodding your head to Helena, who opens the door gently.

A gentleman is at the door, he's staring at you the minute he walks in. Like he's almost amazed at you, you didn't understand.

You never did.

He seems to look at you yet avoids eye contact. You set the instrument down to the side, gently. "Can I help you sir?"

He says your name, and you nod your head. "Can we be alone?" He asks. Your mother said it was improper to be with women alone, not men. So you nod your head and your maids walk out of the room. You figured this man was a duke or something, he had to be important considering he was in the castle. Perhaps a suitor for one of your sisters.

"My name is Benedict Bridgerton."

"Bridgerton? I've heard stories about your family before from my mother. She enjoys the drama that surrounds your family." You tell him, "Last I heard the Viscount found a wife."

"My brother, Anthony." He confirms.

"What brings you to my room?" You question. "Surely it's not to tell me about your family?"

"I just had to meet you."

"You really didn't." You frown slightly, to be fair, you knew a bit about Benedict. You weren't the biggest fan of his story, kidnapping a bride from her wedding day and tying her to a pole. It was strange, but you couldn't change the writers opinion. At least you think that was his story, TikTok could only tell you so much and it's not like you read the books.

You could only hope that it was different in the tv series, considering that's where you were right now. The actor himself you knew very little about as well, but you didn't really care for actors. You stood from the couch in your room, "Why is the artist here?"

"You know of my work?"

"I know a lot of things Sir." You take a few steps away from the couch. "Can you get to the point?"

He seems unsure now, fiddling with his fingers. "You're my soulmate" He tells you, and you look down at one of your marks.

"Which mark are you?" You question, and he looks hopeful. He pulls up his sleeve, the little feather on your wrist, in matching spots. You looked at your own and slightly traced it.

"Benedict!" The voice is angry and your door opens. You glare at the person who opened it. He didn't knock. It's Anthoyn Bridgerton, looking angry. "Benedict what are-"

"Next time Viscount I would ask that you knock instead of rudely interrupting." You cut him off, glaring at him. He seems to have brought a group of people behind him. Benedict stands up and walks right next to you. You put your hands behind your back, picking at your wrist. "It seems you've brought company." You tell Benedict.

"I was about to explain." He tells you, but you look at Anthony, more specifically behind him. You can see your mother through the crowd.

"If we must speak, we will not do it in my room." You grab Benedict's wrist, still refusing skin-to-skin, and pull him with you. Your glare causes the eldest Bridgerton to move to the side, he walks next to his wife.

Outside your room is a lot of people, it's almost overwhelming. There's the Featheringtons, really you only recognized Penelope but you knew by the yellow dress that they had to be her relatives. You could guess they were her sisters and the eldest-looking was her mother. You then saw your own mother, with what seemed like all of your siblings behind her. You rolled your eyes, your eldest brother seemed to glare at you. He hated you though, and you didn't particulary care. You just hated the drama that came with them. Then the Bridgertons. All of them, it seems. The eldest Bridgerton son is there with his wife, Kate. As is their mother, then Benedict who was next to you, Colin who seemed to glance between you and Penelope, Daphne with her husband, Simon. Eloise, Francesca (you truly hoped she got a better story in this show than the books), Gregory and Hyacinth.

"Brimsley, a pleasure to see you again." You avoid everyone to speak to your mother's right-hand man.

"Perhaps if you came out of your room more sir."

"Ah but if I did I might just die." You smile slightly, "Especially if I see William's face." Your brother takes a step towards you but quickly faltors at your mother's expression. "What have I done to warrant a family meeting without me."

"Being born really." George remarked and you smiled at him, cruelly.

"Brother you make me wish I wasn't and that instead I was with Charlotte, Amelia, Alfred and Octavius." What you said was cruel. Amelia died of tuberculosis, Alfred and Octavius died of smallpox, and the young Princess Charlotte who you weren't really sure how you died, you were barely there during the funeral. George (The fourth?) seemed to quiet down, looking sad. You were being rude, you didn't care. They back you into a corner and you attack, like always. "Edward! If you want to strike me you might as well try, but we both know you lack in that department, and many others."

"Quiet." Your mother tells you, and you wish you could care but you didn't. "This doesn't pertain you." She says your name gently, as if convincing you to calm down.

"Obviously it does if it has my soulmate running towards me." You jest towards Benedict. "What? Now that my attraction to men is out we must kill them all? It's not like it's been a secret."

"It is not godly." One of your brothers say.

"God is not Godly." You dennounce him, "You follow a book that has been rewritten multiple times, through many different languages. I do not believe in your God, you know that."

"Hush." Your mother calls your name and you just stare at her. "This was for the better of the Kingdom."

"Why does the Kingdom matter more than I?" You question, "Frankly, none of this does. But why are the Bridgertons and the Featherington's here?"

"You know who we are?" One of the other Featherington sisters say, she seems hot, considering the red to her face.

"I know of Penelope." You looked to her and nodded. "Who wouldn't? She's absolutely beautiful." You notice the looks that you recieve after you say your words. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No, I just think its best-"

"She wants to discourage us from going after you." Benedict says as he grabs your wrist causing you to look at him.

"Us?"