#strike commander dad

[moe-broey]

I don't think this is Moe's first offense (saying something brazen/flippant) but I do think it's the first time it's called the King a bitch. And it won't be the last! The funniest part of Anna being the one to take charge and chew Moe out is that it gives Moe the opportunity to do The Exact Same Thing to Alfonse one-on-one (you know... to test the waters... to see how he feels about it....). Which it is. Also promptly chastised for.

FAVE PANELS...

[hoshifighting]

Bodyguard

— Synopsis: During a trip defined by your father, you, in an act of provocation, choose Seungcheol to be your personal bodyguard. — WC: 8.8k — WARNINGS: Smut, reader makes Seungcheol do push ups in front of her, choking, "ma'am calling", squirting, mentions of gun, reader gives Seungcheol lots of filthy hints, pussy eating, fingering, handjob, penetrative sex, unprotected sex and etc.

You walk in your high-heeled shoes inside the basement, their echo reverberating through the dimly lit space. As you enter, you're greeted by a straight line of men, all dressed in black suits, their expressions solemn and focused. Their posture straightens as they catch sight of you, a clear indication of respect.

You stop by the side of your Dad, crossing your arms as you survey the group before you. "Sweetheart, those are the recruited soldiers recently," he informs you.

You tilt your head slightly, analyzing the men in front of you, before deciding to approach one. Your eyes land on a particular soldier, his black eyebrows thick and striking. Without hesitation, you walk towards him, your gaze sweeping from his feet to his head.

"What's your name, soldier?" you inquire, your tone firm but not unkind.

The soldier meets your gaze, his expression composed. "Seungcheol, Ma'am," he replies respectfully.

You nod, considering him for a moment before asking for his last name. "Choi, Choi Seungcheol, Ma'am," he responds promptly.

Curiosity piqued, you pressed further. "Have we met before?" you ask, searching his face for any sign of recognition.

The man shakes his head slightly. "No, Ma'am," he replies, his voice steady.

Lie.

You continue your line of questioning, wanting to learn more about this soldier who has caught your attention. "How old are you?" you inquire, noting the maturity in his features despite his youthful appearance.

"28, Ma'am," he answers without hesitation.

You consider him thoughtfully for a moment before nodding, acknowledging his response.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you," you command, your voice firm and authoritative.

He promptly moves his gaze to meet yours, finding your cold expression unwavering.

"Which department were you placed in?" you inquire, your tone sharp and demanding.

"East patrol, Ma'am," he responds promptly, his voice steady despite the intensity of your scrutiny.

Nodding to your Dad, you signal for him to make a readjustment regarding the department of Soldier Choi.

Your Dad, slightly puzzled, asks, "Which department should I put him in, Sweetie?"

You tilt your head slightly, squeezing your eyes as you continue to analyze Soldier Choi. After a moment of consideration, you respond with a decisiveness that catches everyone off guard.

"My private security guard," you declare, your tone leaving no room for argument.

His eyes widen in surprise, and he struggles to suppress the urge to gag. The soldiers standing beside him also try their best to conceal their reactions, but the shock is evident on their faces.

You need to contain the bubbles in your chest, which wants to make you laugh in his face. 

You and Seungcheol hated each other. 

Everyone at the agency knew about this tea, apparently, only your father didn't know.

You give them a last look, and they bow respectfully before you turn to Soldier Choi. "Meet me in two hours," you command, your voice leaving no room for negotiation. "In the storage room on the fourth floor," you add, glancing at your wristwatch, noting the time.

Soldier Choi nods in acknowledgment, his expression unreadable as he absorbs your instructions.

"With packed suitcases," you continue, your tone leaving no room for questions, "We are going to Japan."

With that final directive, you turn on your heel and stride purposefully out of the basement, leaving behind the line of soldiers and the curious glances that follow you.

You couldn't shake the bitter taste in your mouth as the name Choi Seungcheol echoed in your mind. Years of working with the FBI had honed your instincts for identifying potential threats, and Seungcheol's sudden appearance in your life triggered a flood of memories.

Training years ago had brought you face to face with him, your Dad decided that he wanted you to follow his lineage, two young adults embarking on a journey into the world of espionage. You had formed a light camaraderie with him, feeling a connection that bordered on friendship. 

But everything changed when Seungcheol made the fateful decision to follow the path of another spy agency. It felt like a betrayal, a sharp sting that left a lingering bitterness in its wake. 

And when he came back to your Dad agency, because the other agency simply rejected the bunch of young men at their door, you couldn't forgive him. 

Japan, 8h34 p.m. 

You sit back in the plush armchair of the hotel room, arms crossed casually over your chest as you watch Seungcheol sweat it out with a series of push-ups. His muscles flex with each repetition, a testament to his dedication to maintaining his physical prowess.

"Are you tired yet?" you quip, a playful glint in your eyes as you observe his exertion.

Seungcheol pauses briefly to catch his breath, his chest rising and falling with each heavy inhale. "No, ma'am," he responds between breaths, determination etched into his features.

You raise an eyebrow, impressed by his resilience. "Are you going to give up anytime soon?" you tease, a smirk playing at the corners of your lips.

He grits his teeth and resumes his push-ups, a low groan escaping him as he pushes himself to continue. "No, ma'am," he grunts, his voice strained with effort.

You chuckle softly, finding amusement in his unwavering determination. "Well, don't strain yourself too much," you jest, leaning back further into the comfort of the armchair. "Wouldn't want you collapsing from exhaustion before our next mission, now would we?"

Seungcheol shoots you a playful glare, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips despite his physical exertion. "Not a chance, ma'am," he retorts, his resolve unshaken.

As Seungcheol's arms tremble with exhaustion, you can't help but savor the view of his determination. Despite the strain evident in every muscle, he continues to push himself beyond his limits. It surprises you just how strong he still is, a testament to his resilience and unwavering dedication.

"Still going, huh?" you remark, a playful grin tugging at your lips as you watch him struggle through each push-up.

Seungcheol's breaths come out in heavy pants, his movements slowing as fatigue sets in. "Can't... give up..." he manages to groan out between labored breaths.

You chuckle softly, impressed by his tenacity. "Oh, I see," you tease, leaning forward slightly to get a closer look at his struggling form. "I guess I'll have to find someone else to carry me around then."

His response is a strained grunt as he forces himself to push through another repetition. The effort is evident on his face, and you can't help but admire his determination, even as his movements become slower and more difficult.

You can't help but tease him further, enjoying the sight of his struggle. "Oh, come on, Seungcheol," you taunt, feigning sympathy. "You're looking a bit shaky there. Don't tell me you're starting to feel your age."

With great difficulty, Seungcheol manages to retort, his voice strained but determined, "You're...in the same age...as me."

Touché.

Your smile falters for a moment, caught off guard by his response. Despite the playful banter, his words hit home, a reminder of the passage of time and the challenges that come with it.

"Alright, that's enough," you concede, your tone softening as you watch him collapse onto the ground, panting heavily, his arms sore from the exertion.

As you approach him, Seungcheol sits on his knees, catching his breath, his gaze fixed on the ground. 

"Choi Seungcheol..." you say slowly, drawing out each syllable as you watch his reaction closely.

He meets your gaze with a mixture of apprehension and curiosity, wondering what you have up your sleeve.

"You thought you could hide from me, didn't you?" you continue, your voice laced with amusement as you lean in closer, your eyes gleaming with mischief.

He shifts uncomfortably under your scrutiny, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features before he schools his expression into one of mock innocence. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Ma'am," he replies smoothly, though there's a hint of tension in his voice.

You chuckle softly, thoroughly enjoying the opportunity to tease him. "Oh, please," you retort, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. "You can't hide from me, Seungcheol. I always find my targets, no matter how hard they try to evade me."

Seungcheol lets out a low groan, rolling his eyes in mock exasperation. "You just love to make my life difficult, don't you?" he quips, in feigned annoyance.

"Wouldn't be much fun otherwise, now would it?" you reply with a grin, leaning back in your seat as you revel in the banter between you.

You grab Seungcheol's chin roughly, forcing him to meet your gaze as you shake his face slightly. "How pretty," you remark, a hint of sarcasm in your tone. "Wanting to work with me again, hmm? I bet you've missed me, haven't you?"

His jaw tenses under your grip, but he maintains his composure, his eyes locking onto yours with a mixture of defiance and apprehension.

Releasing him abruptly, you let him stumble backward slightly before continuing. "Well, since you seem so eager to work with me again," you say, your voice dripping with disdain, "you better act like the good bodyguard they recruited you to be. Or else..."

Seungcheol arches an eyebrow, a silent challenge in his expression as he waits for you to elaborate.

You lean in closer, your voice low and menacing. "Or else," you continue, "the feedback about your image within the FBI will be ruined. You wouldn't want that, now would you?"

A flicker of uncertainty crosses Seungcheol's features at the mention of his reputation being tarnished within the agency. Despite the facade of confidence he wears, you can see the doubt creeping into his eyes as he weighs the consequences of defying you.

With a satisfied smirk, you straighten up, knowing that you've effectively reminded him of the stakes at hand.

"Now come on," you say, your tone lightening as you change the subject, "I'm craving the pasta from the restaurant down the street."

Seungcheol gets up slowly, a flicker of annoyance crossing his features as he adjusts the gun at his hip. He follows you begrudgingly, his expression revealing his dissatisfaction with your little revelation.

You sit across from Seungcheol at the restaurant, the aroma of freshly cooked pasta filling the air. But instead of digging into his meal, he sits with his arms crossed and a bratty expression on his face, his untouched food growing cold in front of him.

You can't help but coo at him teasingly, your voice dripping with mock concern. "What's the matter, Seungcheol? Not hungry?"

He hears you, but refuses to meet your gaze, instead opting to scoff and look away, his stubbornness evident in every line of his body.

You lean forward slightly, your playful demeanor not faltering in the face of his resistance. "Come on," you cajole, reaching across the table to nudge his plate closer to him, "don't be like that. You'll regret it if you let this delicious food go to waste."

But Seungcheol remains unmoved, his bratty facade firmly in place as he continues to sulk in silence. During dinner, you convinced him to eat the meal in front of you, after much insistence.

As you walk in the direction of the elevator, a mischievous glint sparkles in your eyes as you suppress a smile, preparing for the best theater of your life. With a dramatic flair, you pretend to stumble, a hand flying to your forehead as if you're about to faint.

Seungcheol reacts immediately, his reflexes kicking in as he reaches out to steady you, his strong arms wrapping around you to prevent you from falling. You suppress another laugh at his quick response, marveling at the effectiveness of your little performance.

"Oh!" you exclaim, feigning distress. "I suddenly feel terrible. These heels are killing me."

Without missing a beat, he scoops you up into his arms, carrying you bridal style as he heads towards the elevator.

You tease, unable to resist the opportunity to poke fun at Seungcheol's expense. "Wow," you remark with exaggerated admiration, "even after millions of push-ups, you can still carry me around like it's nothing. Oh! Seungcheol, you're so strong."

He lets out a slight blush, rolling his eyes at your playful comment. "If you say one more word," he warns, his tone tinged with mock irritation, "I'm going to let you fall."

You smirk in response, unfazed by his threat. "Sorry, Seungcheol," you retort teasingly, "but it's not you who gives the orders around here."

With a playful twinkle in your eye, you lean back comfortably in his arms, reveling in the banter between the two of you.

After a leisurely soak, you emerge from the bathroom feeling rejuvenated, a soft towel wrapped snugly around your body. With a contented sigh, you begin to apply cream to your arms, the familiar routine calming your mind as you focus on the simple task at hand.

But as you turn towards the bed, you can't help but burst into laughter at the sight that greets you. Seungcheol is sprawled out on his bed, his face buried in the pillow and his back turned to you, seemingly oblivious to your presence.

You shake your head in amusement, unable to resist the urge to tease him. "Looks like someone had a long day," you quip, your laughter bubbling up uncontrollably.

Seungcheol stirs at the sound of your voice, turning his head slightly to glance at you over his shoulder. "Oh, please," he mumbles groggily, his voice muffled by the pillow. "Don't remind me."

Your phone rings suddenly, shattering the peaceful atmosphere of the hotel room. With a quick glance at the caller ID, you see that it's your father on the line. Without hesitation, you answer, a sense of urgency creeping into your voice as you listen to his instructions.

"Dad?" you say, your tone tense with anticipation.

His voice crackles over the line, his words coming in fast and urgent. "I need all the bodyguards down at the hotel right now," he announces, the seriousness of his tone leaving no room for argument.

You end the call, your mind already racing with possibilities as you turn to face Seungcheol, who is still lying on the bed, his face buried in the pillow.

"Well, Seungcheol," you say with a wry smile, "it looks like it's not the best time for you to catch up on your beauty sleep."

He lets out a soft whimper, throwing the pillow away and scrambling to his feet. Rushing to put on his suit.

As Seungcheol opens the door to leave, his hand hovering over the handle, he pauses and turns to you with a commanding tone. "Don't. Leave. The. Bedroom," he orders, his voice firm and authoritative.

You can't help but laugh at his seriousness, a playful glint in your eye as you tease him. "Aren't you forgetting something?" you ask innocently, raising an eyebrow.

He raises his gaze, and his eyes widen as he realizes that you're still standing there in your towel, holding his gun in your hand. With a sigh of exasperation, he closes his eyes briefly, his frustration evident.

"Oh my god, get dressed," he mutters, extending his hand to retrieve the gun from you.

You can't resist teasing him further, a mischievous grin spreading across your face. "What's the matter, Seungcheol?" you tease, waving the gun teasingly. "Afraid of a woman only wearing a towel?"

He grunts in response, his cheeks flushing slightly as he takes the gun from you. "Just... don't leave the room," he repeats, his tone slightly exasperated, before abruptly closing the door behind him.

You had made a split-second decision to disobey Seungcheol's orders and follow your father's soldiers, the urgency of the situation outweighing any concern for staying put. Now, you find yourself in the midst of the action, adrenaline coursing through your veins as you navigate the streets, your senses on high alert.

Spotting Seungcheol in a corner of the alley, you can't resist the opportunity to tease him. Sneaking up behind him, you lean in close to his ear and whisper, "Boo." you murmur teasingly, your breath ghosting over his skin. "Fancy meeting you in a dark alley like this. Are you up to no good again?"

Before he can respond, Seungcheol reacts with lightning-fast reflexes, pushing you against the nearest wall with surprising force. Your arms are pinned behind your back, your face pressed uncomfortably against the rough bricks, as he restrains you with an iron grip.

Wide-eyed, Seungcheol freezes as he realizes his mistake. "Y/N?" he exclaims, his voice laced with disbelief as he spins you around to face him.

In that moment, the realization dawns on him, and his expression morphs into one of sheer horror. He's just smashed the daughter of his boss's face into the bricks, mistaking you for a suspect in the chaos of the moment.

Seungcheol turns you around, his expression a mixture of relief and frustration as he finds you with a sly smile on your face. Before he can say anything, you tease him, your words dripping with mischief.

"If you can handle me that roughly, too-" you quip, your voice muffled by his hand as he clamps it over your mouth, cutting off your words.

"Shut up," he hisses, his tone urgent as he scans the alley for any signs of danger. "What are you doing here?"

You remove his hand from your mouth with a playful smirk, unable to resist teasing him even in the midst of the tense situation. "Oh, just thought I'd see if you could handle a little rough handling," you quip, a mischievous twinkle in your eye.

Seungcheol rolls his eyes, his patience wearing thin as he struggles to keep his composure. "This is no time for jokes, Y/N," he scolds, his voice tight with exasperation. "You could have gotten hurt."

Seungcheol's frustration is palpable as he glares at you, his voice tinged with annoyance. "I told you to stay in your damn room," he says through gritted teeth, his eyes scanning the alley for any signs of danger.

You can't help but laugh at his exasperation, finding amusement in his frustration despite the seriousness of the situation. With a teasing glint in your eye, you retort playfully, "Oops, looks like I missed the memo. But where's the fun in following orders, Seungcheol?"

His jaw clenches in frustration at your nonchalant attitude, but there's a flicker of amusement in his eyes as well. Despite his annoyance, he can't help but appreciate your daring spirit and the playful banter between the two of you.

"Stubborn as ever," he mutters under his breath, though there's a hint of fondness in his tone as he shakes his head at your antics. "Just… stay close."

You cross your arms, watching as Seungcheol patrols the area with a vigilant eye. The tension in the air is palpable as you wait for any sign of trouble, knowing that the safety of your father's operation depends on the diligence of every member of the team.

As your dad's voice crackles over the radio, announcing the end of the patrol, Seungcheol holsters his gun at his hips once again. He turns to you with a stern expression, his eyes narrowed in admonition.

"Come on," he says briskly, gesturing for you to follow him. "You could've gotten me into some serious trouble if your dad found out you weren't in bed."

As you walk back towards the hotel with Seungcheol, you can't resist teasing him about the earlier incident in the alley.

"If my dad finds out you manhandled me in that alley," you retort with a smirk, "you'll be in some serious trouble."

Seungcheol turns around, his expression a mix of annoyance and concern as he quickly shushes you. "Sorry, okay?" he says, his voice hushed but earnest. "I thought you were a suspect."

You can't help but chuckle at his apology, enjoying the way he squirms under your playful teasing. "Oh, I'm sure you did," you reply, a mischievous glint in your eye. "But you know, Seungcheol, I kind of like it when things start to get rough. Are you this rough in bed too?"

Seungcheol's eyes widen in shock at your bold remark, his cheeks flushing slightly as he turns around abruptly, continuing to walk towards the hotel without another word, his eyes darting around to make sure no one overhears.

[...]

The next day, Seungcheol's sole function seemed to revolve around being around you, and you found yourself enjoying his presence more than you anticipated.

While the other bodyguards were out on a mission, Seungcheol had taken it upon himself to ensure your day was filled with activities. You had gone for a refreshing run in the park in the morning, followed by a leisurely shopping excursion in the afternoon.

Now, as you laid in the hotel bedroom, meticulously painting your nails, Seungcheol observed you with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. He rolled his eyes as you swung your feet back and forth while focusing on your manicure.

"Oh, come on, Seungcheol," you cooed teasingly, glancing up at him with a playful grin. "You'd rather be in the midst of a mission, fighting off bad guys, than having a relaxing day with me? I saved you from an exhausting day out there!"

Seungcheol sighed, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips despite his efforts to appear unaffected by your teasing. "I never said I preferred being in the middle of a fight," he admitted, his tone teasing yet genuine. "But sometimes your idea of a 'relaxing day' is a little... unconventional."

"Oh, right, because fighting with guns and shit is way more cool," you quip, your focus still on your nails as you glance at Seungcheol with a playful smirk.

Seungcheol lets out a chuckle at your remark, unable to hide the amusement in his eyes. "Well, I can't argue with that," he replies, his tone light and teasing. "But there's something to be said about the thrill of a good Yves Saint-Laurent high heels.."

You roll your eyes playfully at his response, shaking your head as you continue painting your nails. "I'll take a relaxing day over dodging bullets any time," you retort with a grin, enjoying the banter between you.

Seungcheol lets out a scoff at your comment, but his expression softens as he watches your hair fall loose from your bun, knowing it's bothering you as you try to focus on your manicure.

Without hesitation, he gets up from his seat and moves behind you, his hands deftly gathering your hair into a ponytail. You can feel the warmth of his touch as he gently ties it back, securing it in place with practiced ease.

"Thanks," you murmur, grateful for his assistance as you return your attention to your nails.

Seungcheol chuckles softly, his fingers lingering for a moment longer before he steps back, his task complete. "There you go," he says with a smirk, his tone light and teasing. "Now you can finish your masterpiece without any distractions."

You grin at his playful remark, unable to resist teasing him in return. "Who knew my personal bodyguard was also a hairstylist?" you quip, your tone filled with mock surprise. "Maybe I should start charging extra for your services."

Seungcheol rolls his eyes at your teasing, but there's a hint of amusement in his gaze as he settles back into his seat. Despite the lighthearted banter, you can't help but appreciate his thoughtfulness and willingness to lend a helping hand, even in the most unexpected of situations.

After finishing your manicure, you eagerly show your hands to Seungcheol, a playful grin on your face as you ask for his opinion.

"What do you think?" you inquire, wiggling your fingers for emphasis.

Seungcheol inspects your nails with a critical eye before shrugging nonchalantly. "I don't like red," he remarks casually.

You can't help but raise an eyebrow in disbelief. "What?!" you exclaim, mock indignation coloring your tone. "But I distinctly remember you saying red was your favorite color!"

The smile that Seungcheol had been suppressing finally breaks free, transforming into a hearty laugh at your feigned outrage. "Alright, alright," he concedes between chuckles. "I guess I'll make an exception for your nails."

"You should," you retort with a playful glint in your eye, enjoying the banter.

Seungcheol raises an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "Oh, so my opinion is important now?" he teases, his tone laced with amusement.

You nod, a mischievous smile tugging at your lips. "Yes, it is," you reply, your voice tinged with mock seriousness. "Because these red nails are going to be on your back tonight."

His eyes widen in surprise at your bold declaration, and you can see the shift in his posture as he processes your words. "Uh..." he stammers, his cheeks flushing slightly as he clears his throat. "Maybe we should stick to talking about nail polish and colors-"

You shoot Seungcheol a playful smirk, enjoying the way his cheeks still hold a hint of color from your earlier comment. "Not feeling so bold anymore, huh?" you tease, nudging him gently with your elbow.

Seungcheol rolls his eyes good-naturedly, but there's a spark of amusement in his gaze as he meets your playful challenge. "Hey, I can be bold when I need to be," he retorts with a grin, his confidence returning as he meets your gaze head-on.

You chuckle at his response, appreciating the way he's able to bounce back from your teasing with equal parts wit and charm. "Oh, I have no doubt about that," you reply, unable to hide the fondness in your tone.

You watch as Seungcheol leans in closer, his expression curious as he questions your sudden change in behavior. Tilting your head in confusion, you furrow your brow as you meet his gaze.

"Why did you suddenly choose me to be your bodyguard?" he asks, his tone laced with genuine curiosity. "You used to hate me, and now you're even flirting with me."

You can't help but laugh at his incredulous tone, finding amusement in his confusion. "Isn't it funny how things change?" you reply with a playful grin. "Besides, it's quite entertaining having you do everything I ask."

Seungcheol scoffs at your response, clearly still puzzled by your sudden shift in attitude. "Flirting with me doesn't make any sense," he insists, his voice tinged with disbelief.

You simply shrug your shoulders nonchalantly, a mischievous glint in your eyes. "Oh, I don't know," you reply casually. "Angry sex is way better when you're doing it with someone you hate."

You glance at him through your lashes, a smirk playing at the corners of your lips as you watch his reaction. Seungcheol's mouth goes dry, and you can see him squirming uncomfortably in his seat, clearly taken aback by your boldness.

"Cat got your tongue?" you tease, leaning in closer to him.

Seungcheol shifts uncomfortably in his seat, his expression torn between desire and restraint. "We can't do that," he finally manages to say, his voice strained as he wrestles with his own demons.

You bite your lip, unable to resist the urge to push him further. "And why is that?" you press, your voice low and seductive.

Seungcheol hesitates, his gaze flickering between you and the floor as he struggles to find the right words. "It's unprofessional," he finally murmurs, his tone tinged with regret.

You can't help but chuckle at his response, finding amusement in his attempt to maintain his composure. "Oh, come on, Seungcheol," you tease, reaching out to brush your fingers against his cheek. 

His eyes darken at your touch, and you can see the internal battle raging within him. "This isn't the time or place," he insists, his voice strained.

You bite your lip, a mischievous glint in your eyes as you lean in closer to him. "But if it wasn't because of that," you murmur softly, your breath ghosting over his lips, "would you fuck me?"

Seungcheol inhales sharply at your bold question, his resolve crumbling in the face of your undeniable allure. For a moment, he's silent, his eyes locked with yours in a silent exchange of longing and desire.

So he abruptly gets up and heads to the bathroom, you watch him go with a mixture of amusement and satisfaction. Leaning back on the bed, a small smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you revel in the realization that Seungcheol isn't entirely immune to your charms.

Finally allowing yourself to relax, you let out a soft sigh, feeling a sense of victory wash over you. Despite his attempts to maintain a professional demeanor, you can't help but notice the way he reacted to your teasing, the flicker of desire in his eyes betraying his attempts to resist your allure.

[...]

As Seungcheol stirred from his sleep, a sense of concern gnawed at him, prompting him to glance over at your bed. He looked once, relieved to see you there, but when he looked again, you were gone. Panic surged through him as he quickly scanned the room, his heart racing as he realized you were nowhere to be found.

With a curse under his breath, Seungcheol threw off the covers and sprung out of bed, his mind racing with worry. He searched every corner of the bedroom, his movements frantic as he called out your name in a hushed voice, hoping against hope that you would respond.

But there was no sign of you, and Seungcheol's frustration boiled over as he cursed under his breath, the weight of responsibility pressing down on him like a lead weight. "Damn it," he muttered, running a hand through his hair in agitation. "This girl always manages to get me into trouble."

As you made your way to the rooftop pool, a mischievous grin played on your lips. You weren't actually in need of a breather; rather, you saw it as the perfect opportunity to play a little game with Seungcheol, to remind him of the importance of staying vigilant in his role as your bodyguard.

Settling into a lounge chair by the pool, you couldn't help but chuckle to yourself as you imagined the look on Seungcheol's face when he realized you were nowhere to be found in the room. It was all in good fun, after all, and you were certain he would appreciate the lesson in staying alert.

Suddenly, you felt hands wrap around your waist, and you were swiftly turned around to face Seungcheol, who looked both relieved and exasperated. "Are you crazy?" he exclaimed, his voice edged with frustration as he took in the rooftop's empty expanse, save for the two of you.

You couldn't help but maintain your composed demeanor, a smirk dancing on your lips as you met his gaze. "Seems like you found me," you remarked casually, teasingly raising an eyebrow in amusement.

Seungcheol's frustration boiled over at your nonchalant response, and you could practically see the steam coming out of his ears. "You think this is funny?" he demanded, his voice tinged with irritation as he struggled to maintain his composure.

Seungcheol's frustration was palpable as he confronted you, his voice edged with exasperation. "You could have chosen anyone, why me?" he demanded, his tone tinged with a hint of desperation. "You're so hard to handle! Did you know that?"

You couldn't help but chuckle at his words, finding amusement in his exasperated state. Sliding your hand across his cheek in a teasing gesture, you met his gaze with a playful glint in your eye.

"Why not you?" you countered with a smirk, your tone teasing as you brushed off his question. "After all, who else would be able to handle someone as difficult as me?"

Seungcheol's reaction was immediate, brushing your hand away with abruptness as if your touch had burned him. His frustration boiled over as he demanded to know what game you were playing, his voice tinged with a mix of irritation and confusion.

His eyes blazed with rage as he leaned in closer, his frustration evident in every line of his face. "What the fuck do you want from me?" he demanded, his voice laced with anger as he searched your face for answers.

You met his gaze head-on, your expression unreadable as you replied calmly, "I just needed some fun."

His eyes narrowed even further, his frustration boiling over as he leaned closer to you. "Your idea of fun is putting my serious job at risk," he spat out, his voice trembling with pent-up rage. "And let me tell you, it's not fucking fun for me."

Undeterred by his anger, you leaned in even closer, a teasing smirk playing on your lips. "You mad?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper as you egged him on.

Seungcheol wraps his hand around your neck, his hand pressing you against the border of the building, his rage palpable in every movement. "Listen to me," he growled, his voice low and menacing as he struggled to maintain his composure. "You need to start taking this seriously. You're not just playing games with me—you're putting yourself in danger."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." he replied sharply. "Because if everything goes wrong, you're still going to be the boss's daughter, and I'm going to be dead."

Your expression darkened at his words, a frown forming on your lips as you felt his hand tightening around your neck. Despite the seriousness of the conversation, you couldn't help but feel a thrill at the intensity of his grip, the adrenaline coursing through your veins.

But instead of backing down, you met his gaze with defiance, refusing to let him intimidate you. "I wouldn't let them do that to you," you declared boldly, your voice tinged with determination.

"I wouldn't let them touch you," you continued, your voice low and husky, each word dripping with determination. "Not before I—" you paused, the sensation of Seungcheol's body pressed against yours and his hand tightening around your neck sending shivers down your spine. "—not before I fuck you," you finally breathed, your voice barely above a whisper as you leaned in closer to him, your lips brushing against his ear.

A sudden moan escaped your lips as the intensity of the moment overwhelmed you, the rush of adrenaline heightening your senses and fueling the fire that burned between you and Seungcheol.

He widened his eyes in surprise at your unexpected reaction, clearly taken aback by your excitement in the midst of the tense situation. "What—" he began, his voice trailing off as he struggled to comprehend your response.

You smirked, a wicked gleam in your eye as you leaned back slightly, your gaze locking with his as you reveled in the raw intensity of the moment. "What, you didn't expect me to enjoy this?" you teased, your voice dripping with amusement as you watched his expression darken with desire.

Despite the seriousness of the situation, you couldn't help but feel a surge of arousal coursing through you, the electric tension between you and Seungcheol igniting a primal urge that refused to be ignored.

Seungcheol's eyes bore into yours, a mixture of surprise and desire flickering in their depths as he struggled to process your bold declaration. "You... you're serious?" he asked, his voice hoarse with disbelief.

You couldn't help but chuckle at his reaction, finding amusement in his stunned expression. "Dead serious," you replied, your voice laced with a hint of mischief as you leaned in closer, the heat of his body radiating against your skin.

A smirk tugged at the corners of Seungcheol's lips as he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, "Then what are you waiting for?"

As you and Seungcheol moved with urgency and desire, your kiss deepening with each step, the tension between you reached its peak. From the rooftop to the hotel hallways, the elevator serving as a brief respite before you continued your passionate embrace, the heat between you only intensified.

Finally, as you reached the hotel room, Seungcheol threw you onto the bed, a surge of adrenaline coursed through your veins, your heart racing with excitement as you met his hungry gaze. With a playful smirk, you propped yourself up on your elbows, reveling in the desire that burned in his eyes.

But as his gaze traveled over your figure, lingering on the delicate camisole that barely covered your curves, a flicker of disapproval crossed his face. "You walked around the hotel like this?" he muttered.

You couldn't help but chuckle at his reaction, the heat of his gaze sending shivers down your spine as you teased, "Don't like it? Then take it off."

The challenge in your words was unmistakable, and you watched with anticipation as Seungcheol's desire flared, his hands moving to grasp the sides of the camisole. With a swift motion, he ripped the delicate fabric down the middle, exposing your bare breasts and lacy panties to his hungry gaze.

You gasped at the suddenness of his action, a thrill coursing through you at the raw desire burning in his eyes. "Seungcheol," you moaned, your voice husky.

As Seungcheol's lips trailed along your neck, leaving a trail of fiery kisses, bites, and licks in their wake, you couldn't help but squirm beneath him, your body responding eagerly to his touch. His fingers toyed with your nipples, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your body, making you moan with delight.

"It's so difficult to hold myself back around you," he confessed, his voice husky with desire as he continued to lavish attention on your sensitive skin.

Your breath hitched at his admission, a surge of arousal coursing through you at the raw honesty in his words. Feeling your arousal pooling between your legs, you moaned softly, unable to contain the overwhelming sensations that consumed you.

Unable to resist any longer, you whispered, "Finally, you admitted it,"

Seungcheol's lips curled into a smirk as he felt your body respond to his touch, reveling in the intoxicating mix of desire and arousal that filled the room. "Oh, so you were waiting for me to admit it, huh?" he teased, his voice laced with amusement as he continued to explore every inch of your skin with his lips and hands. "Well, now that I've admitted it, what do you plan to do about it?"

With a smirk of your own, you whispered, "I plan to make sure you don't hold back anymore," your voice dripping with desire as you pulled him closer.

As Seungcheol's hand ventured lower, his fingers slipping beneath the delicate fabric of your lacy panties, you couldn't help but inhale sharply, your breath catching in your throat at the sudden contact. A surge of electricity shot through you as his fingers made contact with your slick folds, the sensation causing you to jolt in pleasure.

He chuckled softly at your reaction, his lips pressing gentle pecks along your jawline as he continued to explore your arousal. His eyes locked with yours, a mischievous glint dancing in their depths as he teased you with his touch.

With a deliberate slowness, he slid his fingers deeper, exploring the wet heat between your thighs. As his digits entered you, you couldn't suppress the loud moan that escaped your lips, your mouth falling open in ecstasy as pleasure surged through your body.

As Seungcheol's fingers pumped in and out of you, you found yourself overwhelmed by the intensity of the sensations coursing through your body. The sound of your wetness mingled with the filthy sounds of his fingers plunging into you, filling the air with the heady scent of arousal.

With your vision blurred by pleasure, your hands fumbled with the buttons of Seungcheol's shirt, the fabric suddenly feeling suffocating against your skin. You needed him closer, his bare chest pressed against yours as his fingers plugged deeper in your cunt.

As you struggled to undo the buttons, your fingers clumsy with desire, you let out a shaky moan, the sound a symphony of your arousal filling the room. "Seungcheol," you gasped, your voice thick with need as you tugged at his shirt, desperate for him to be as exposed and vulnerable as you were in that moment.

A shaky moan escaped your lips as Seungcheol's fingers found your sweet spot, sending shockwaves of ecstasy coursing through you. Your body trembled under his touch, the pleasure building to dizzying heights as you tugged at his shirt, desperate to feel the heat of his skin against yours.

Seungcheol's lips curled into a smirk as he watched you struggle with the buttons of his shirt, the desire burning in his eyes mirroring your own. "Having a little trouble there, sweetheart?" he teased, his voice dripping with playful arrogance as he continued to pleasure you with his skilled fingers.

You let out a frustrated groan, the need for him overwhelming your senses as his touch drove you closer to the edge of ecstasy. "Just shut up and help me," you demanded, your words laced with a hint of desperation as you tugged at his shirt, your fingers trembling with anticipation.

With a low chuckle, Seungcheol obliged, quickly undoing the remaining buttons of his shirt before tossing it aside, his toned chest revealed in all its glory. "Better?" he asked, his voice husky with desire as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against yours in a searing kiss.

"Much better…"

Seungcheol wasted no time in pulling your panties down, his eyes fixed on yours as he spread your legs apart. You squirmed beneath him, craving his touch as he caressed your inner thighs.

Rolling your hips in search of more, you let out a needy whine, biting your lip in anticipation. Every fiber of your being was aflame with desire, and you couldn't wait for him to give you what you needed.

As Seungcheol's warm tongue made contact with your wet folds, a jolt of pleasure shot through your body, causing you to arch your back and scream his name in ecstasy. His smile against your pussy only added to the sensation.

His strong arms held your hips firmly against the mattress, preventing you from squirming away as his tongue worked its magic. Each flick of his tongue against your sensitive bud sent waves of pleasure crashing over you, leaving you unable to do anything but moan incoherently.

"God, yes," you mumbled, your eyes rolling back in your head as he continued to suck and lick you with increasing fervor. The intensity of the pleasure was overwhelming, and you found yourself lost in the bliss of the moment, completely at the mercy of his skilled touch.

As he teased and tantalized you with his tongue, you felt yourself spiraling closer and closer to the edge of release. With each flick and suck, he pushed you further towards the brink, until finally, with a loud cry of pleasure, you tumbled over the edge, your body shaking with the force of your climax.

Seungcheol continued to lap at your wetness, prolonging your pleasure until you were completely spent, you cried out in ecstasy, unable to contain the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your body. Gripping his hair tightly, you pulled him closer, eliciting a low moan from him as your actions only fueled his own desire.

Your legs trembled uncontrollably as the intensity of the sensation threatened to overwhelm you, and you could feel yourself teetering on the edge of another climax. With each flick of his tongue, the pleasure intensified, sending waves of ecstasy crashing over you in relentless waves.

But, Seungcheol got up, leaving you whining with need, you couldn't help but watch in anticipation as he removed his shorts and underwear. His mouth and chin glistened with your arousal, evidence of the pleasure he had just given you, while his big pink cock stood proudly, already wet with precum.

Taking a moment to appreciate the sight before you, you let your eyes roam over the lines of his abs, the bulging muscles of his arms, and the strong, muscular thighs that spoke volumes of his training and dedication. He was every inch the epitome of strength and masculinity, and the sight of him standing before you left you breathless.

With a teasing grin, you commented on his impressive physique, "Fuck, you're so hot." causing his cock to twitch in response and his cheeks to flush with arousal. You knew the effect your words had on him, and you reveled in the power you held over him in that moment.

As you almost jumped on him, eagerly positioning yourself on top, you wasted no time in reaching for his throbbing cock, your hand wrapping around it firmly. Seungcheol let out a sharp hiss in your ear, the sound sending shivers of pleasure coursing through your body.

With a wicked grin, you began to stroke him slowly, teasingly, relishing the way his breath hitched in response to your touch. Seungcheol's grip tightened on your hips as he struggled to maintain control, his arousal evident in every gasp and moan that escaped his lips. "God, yes, Ma'am." he groaned, his voice thick with desire as he surrendered himself completely to the pleasure of your touch.

Your movements grew more urgent, more insistent, as you stroked him faster and harder, your own arousal building with each passing moment. "You're so fucking hard for me," you whispered, your breath hot against his skin as you continued to pleasure him with skilled hands.

Seungcheol stopped your movements abruptly, grabbing both of your hands and pressing them firmly against the top of your head as he held you in place. A sly smile played on your lips as his cock tapped against your eager pussy, causing you to squirm with anticipation, desperate to feel him inside you.

"Please," you pleaded, your voice filled with longing as you begged for him to fill you completely.

Seungcheol's grin widened as he teased you, drawing out the anticipation until you were practically begging for release.

You waited with bated breath as he slowly began to thrust himself inside you, savoring every inch of his cock as it filled you completely.

With each movement, you could feel him stretching you, filling you in a way that left you breathless with desire. Every vein, every contour of his cock sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body, the sensation overwhelming in its intensity.

You moaned softly as he buried himself deep inside you, your walls clenching around him in a desperate attempt to hold him close.

As Seungcheol finally entered you completely, his pelvis pressed tightly against yours, a wave of pleasure washed over you. You could feel every inch of him buried deep inside you, his cock curved perfectly to hit your g'spot with each movement.

With a soft moan, you arched your back, pressing your body closer to his as you reveled in the sensation of being filled so completely. Your hands were tied in his, holding on tightly as you surrendered yourself completely to the pleasure of the moment.

Seungcheol moaned in response, the tightness of your grip and the warmth of your wetness driving him to the brink of madness.

Seungcheol teased you, a mischievous grin playing on his lips as he remarked, "You've been wanting this since the beginning of this trip, haven't you?"

You scoffed playfully, shaking your head as you countered, "You're wrong. I've wanted this since our training days."

His grin widened at your confession, and without missing a beat, he thrust deeper inside you, causing you to cry out in pleasure. "Is that so?" he murmured, his voice thick with desire as he relished the feeling of you tightening around him.

You nodded eagerly, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you surrendered yourself completely to the pleasure of the moment. "Yes," you moaned, your words barely audible as you lost yourself in the sensation of being filled so completely by him.

As you warned Seungcheol that you were about to cum, he swiftly turned you onto your chest, pressing your upper body onto the bed while lifting your ass up. With a primal instinct, he thrust his cock back inside you, eliciting cries of pleasure from your lips.

"Oh my god, oh my god," you whimpered, the sensation in your stomach growing so intense that you knew there was no turning back. And when his hand began to draw perfect circles on your clit, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body, you couldn't hold back any longer.

With a loud scream, you felt yourself climaxing, your body convulsing with the force of your orgasm as you squirted all over him and the bed, coating your thighs and his in your ecstasy. Seungcheol's jaw went slack at the sight and sensation, his own arousal reaching new heights as he watched how incredibly horny he had made you.

Seungcheol's breath was hot against your ear as he whispered, his voice husky with desire, "I'm not done with you yet."

Your body trembled in oversensitivity, the waves of pleasure still rippling through you from your earlier climax. "Please," you whimpered, your voice barely above a whisper as you pleaded with him to give you a moment to recover.

But Seungcheol had other plans, his hands gripping your hips firmly as he began to thrust into you once again, his cock driving deep inside you with each powerful movement. You gasped in surprise, the intensity of the sensation overwhelming as he continued to pound into you relentlessly.

"Fuck," you moaned, your words barely coherent as you surrendered yourself completely to the pleasure of the moment. Your body was on fire, every nerve ending tingling with sensation as Seungcheol pushed you to the brink of ecstasy once again. "Seungcheol, w-wait," 

As the slickness of your arousal connected your bodies, the sounds emanating from your wet pussy echoed in the bedroom, filling the air with the intoxicating symphony of your passion. Seungcheol closed his eyes, throwing his head back in ecstasy, overwhelmed by the intensity of the sensation.

Your pussy was so wet, so tight around him, that every movement sent waves of pleasure coursing through his body. He could feel the creamy ring of your arousal coating his cock, driving him to the brink of ecstasy with each thrust.

But you were too much, your insatiable desire for him driving him to new heights of pleasure. As your pussy throbbed tight around him, merciless in its grip, he couldn't help but surrender himself completely to the overwhelming sensation.

As Seungcheol continued to thrust into you, he spoke to you in a low, husky voice, urging you on to another orgasm. "That's it, Ma'am," he murmured, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered sweet nothings to drive you wild with desire. "I want to feel you cum for me again."

You tensed under him, the sensation of his words sending a shiver of pleasure down your spine. Your body responded instinctively to his touch, every nerve ending alive with anticipation as you surrendered yourself completely to the pleasure of the moment.

And then, with a final cry of ecstasy, you let go, your body convulsing with the force of your orgasm. Your pussy clenched around him, milking him for all he was worth as you rode the wave of pleasure until it consumed you completely.

Seungcheol rolled his hips, his eyes squeezed shut as he savored the feeling of your cunt wrapping tightly around him. It was deliciously intense, and he relished in the sensation of being completely engulfed by you. With each movement, he felt a surge of possessiveness wash over him—it was his, and his alone.

As he neared the edge, he couldn't hold back any longer. With a low groan of pleasure, he released himself inside you, his hot cum painting your walls white. He held onto your ass tightly in his hands, anchoring himself to you as he rode out the waves of ecstasy.

Lost in the moment, he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he reveled in the intensity of the pleasure coursing through his body.

As Seungcheol lay there, his body still trembling with the aftershocks of pleasure, you couldn't resist teasing him a little.

"Look at you," you purred, tracing a finger lightly along his chest. "All worn out already?"

Seungcheol cracked open one eye, giving you a playful glare. "I could say the same about you," he retorted, a hint of amusement in his voice.

You laughed softly, running your fingers through his hair. "Oh, but I'm never too tired for round two," you teased, winking at him.

He raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "Is that a challenge?"

You grinned, leaning in closer. "Maybe," you replied, your voice dripping with mischief. "But you'll have to catch your breath first."

Seungcheol chuckled, pulling you closer to him. "Challenge accepted," he murmured, his lips brushing against yours in a tantalizing kiss.

[entitled-fangirl]

Doll.

Cregan Stark x Velaryon!wife!reader

Summary: Cregan is a girl dad. That’s it. That’s the summary.

Masterlist

………………………….

"Where are you, my perfect girl?" Cregan wondered aloud as he walked to the door.

His daughter, Lyanna, sat in her chambers, brushing the string hair of her favorite doll.

Only three now, she was a striking resemblance to her mother- violet eyes and that silver Targaryen hair.

He smiled as he leaned onto the doorframe and watched her.

She looked up to him with her bright eyes and held her doll out to him.

He chuckled lightly and walked into the room, kneeling next to her and taking her doll, "What am I to do with it?"

"Brush."

He raised his eyebrows but made no move to argue, running his fingers through the tangled string of the doll.

The doll was well aged it seemed, having been dragged everywhere they went. It held the same features as she did, clearly custom made to hold the same look.

Cregan never considered he'd get even more protective when the child began to slowly look like her mother.

Speaking of, Y/n entered the chambers with a smile, "And just what exactly are you two doing in here?"

Cregan only turned his head with a smirk, but Lyanna jumped up and ran to her mother, giggling when she was picked up with ease.

He watched the two approach him as Y/n took in the sight, "Brushing hair, are we, my love?"

He let out a breathy laugh, "I was commanded to, I'm afraid. Princess's orders."

Y/n mocked surprise, "A princess's orders? Well, you can't deny those, can you, Lord Stark?"

Lyanna giggled again, finding comfort in her mother's arms.

But her mother frowned, "Lyanna, why don't we brush your hair now? It seems we've been focused on the wrong hair."

Cregan looked up at that, only now noting the tangled mess that was his daughter's hair.

She huffed and shook her head.

Y/n gave her a patient smile, "You shall feel better when you do."

Lyanna shook her head again with a mean grunt.

Y/n's eyes lit up and she leaned to rest her forehead on the side of the girl's head, "If you let me brush your hair, surely your father will let you brush his."

Lyanna's eyes lit up excitedly, and Cregan's widened.

The woman looked to Cregan, "If that's alright."

He hesitantly nodded, "If it gets her hair brushed, I suppose."

Lyanna then began to wiggle, and Y/n set her down, watching as the girl ran around the room, grabbing all of her combs and hair ties.

Y/n took a moment to lean down and give Cregan a soft kiss, "You look dashing today, my prince."

Lyanna paused and looked at the two, "Papa's not a prince."

The two couldn't stop soft chuckles from leaving their lips. Cregan spoke up, "I only am because of your mother."

The girl looked more confused than before.

Y/n reached out and pulled the girl towards the bed. Y/n sat at the foot of it, having her girl stand so she was the right height for brushing. She became to patiently and softly comb through the hair of her daughter, "You truly are a princess, you know, Lyanna."

Her head tilted, "But why?"

Cregan stood himself up and walked towards them, "Because your mother is a princess, too."

"No, mama would be a queen. And papa is the king," she said nonchalantly as if common sense.

Cregan laughed and set himself in front of his daughter with his back to her, fulfilling his promise of brushing his hair, "I am no king, darling."

Y/n spoke up again, "Your grandmother, Rhaenyra, is the Queen. Grandsire Daemon is the King consort. Everyone else are the princes and princesses."

"Uncle Jace?"

Her mother nodded as she worked a knot through, "Yes. Even uncle Jace."

Lyanna took that for an answer and began to hastily run a comb through her father's long locks, practically tangling it more than before, but he allowed her to.

"Your mother once lived in a large castle," Cregan smiled. "With servants and guards and large dragons!"

Their daughter's eyes widened, "Dragons?"

He nodded, amused that he had caught her attention, "Oh, yes. Very large dragons. Ones that breathe fire when commanded."

"But only when their Targaryen rider commanded," Y/n chirped up to keep their daughter from panicking.

Lyanna hummed as she worked on her father's hair, seemingly unaware of her mother still working through hers. "Are they mean?"

Y/n smiled, "Oh. No. Dragons are quite kind when they wish to be. Their size is the scariest part."

Cregan reached out, picking up the doll again and messing with it absentmindedly.

"Hey!" Lyanna yelled. "That's mine!"

Y/n frowned, but her voice never rose, "Do not yell at your father."

"He has my favorite doll! Give it back!"

Cregan turned his body around completely to look at his girl. He held that commanding look in his eye that he rarely wore around his family, "Excuse me?"

Lyanna's brows furrowed and she held her hand out, "Give it back."

Y/n leaned back, abandoning the hair brush to watch Stark blood fight itself.

Cregan's shoulders pushed back, "Do not speak to anyone that way, much less your father."

Lyanna stomped her foot, "It is mine!"

He forced himself to take a deep sigh and his voice lowered in pitch and volume, "Speak again in this manner, and I will take the doll away."

Their daughter grew angry quickly. "DON'T!"

Y/n frowned, "Cregan-"

But it was too late. He stood up with the doll in hand and placed it on top of the dresser, out of the girl's reach.

She immediately turned to her mother and wailed. Y/n pulled her into her lap, comforting her.

Cregan looked at his wife with a disapproving gaze, "Do not-"

"Cregan." She spoke gently, "Be delicate with our girl."

"She's playing you for a fool."

Lyanna pulled away from her mother with puffy red eyes and tear streaks on her cheeks. Y/n gently wiped the tears away and cooed at the girl. Lyanna sniffled as she spoke, "Then I'll… I'll lose you."

Y/n frowned, "My girl, what do you mean?"

"I won't have you."

"I'm right here, Lyanna."

"But then you'll leave."

Y/n looked up to Cregan, who looked just as confused as her. He knelt down beside the two, "Your mother is not leaving, Lyanna."

"She'll… she'll leave the room… and… and I won't have her anymore."

Her mother quickly connected the dots. "My sweet girl. Is that doll me?"

Lyanna nodded and hiccuped lightly.

Cregan felt his heart drop to his stomach. What horrid father takes away a reminder of the girl's mother?

Y/n cooed, "Lyanna, I am safe. You are safe. Your father makes sure of it."

"But when you leave, I won't have you."

Y/n felt her eyes water and her lip tremble. She pulled the girl off of her lap and into Cregan's arms. "I can't…" She stood suddenly and left in a rush.

Cregan held the girl firmly, trying to distract her from her mother's absence. "Dear daughter. Please listen. Your mother loves you very much. With or without a doll, your mother will not leave. Not ever."

Lyanna sniffled but nodded.

He smiled lightly, "C'mere, girl."

The child practically melted against her father's chest.

…

Cregan later creaked open the chamber door that he shared with his wife.

She sat in the bed, her eyes puffy from a past session of crying.

"My love, what happened?"

She sniffled and shrugged, "'M fine. Overwhelmed, I suppose."

He nodded, walking up to the bed. He brushed hair from her forehead and placed a kiss there. "Lyanna is fine now. She fell asleep."

Y/n sighed, "I should have been more help."

"No. No. That's fine. You did what you could."

"It was the doll," she sniffled.

He took a breath as he sat on the bed. "Alright?"

She looked up and smiled through her tears, "Your hair is horrendous from Lyanna's brushing. Let me fix it."

He gave a playful huff and sat in front of her, his back to her once again. "Talk to me."

"I had a favorite doll when I was younger. Much like her," she said as she ran her fingers through the reddish locks. "But… It looked much different. Brown hair, and dark eyes."

Cregan imagined it in his head, unsure of where she was going with it.

"I always thought that… that my doll was so beautiful. And… and I looked nothing like it."

A breath escaped him as he began to understand. "So you believed-"

"-I believed that I was ugly."

"You know that's not true."

"I do now. I didn't then."

He felt her begin to part his hair and pull lightly at various parts. "I don't quite understand still."

"Our daughter sees me in her favorite doll. I… I could receive no greater honor."

"Ah." He was sure she was braiding his hair at this point.

Silence filled the room for a while and he relaxed into her hold. Finally he spoke, "I have petitions after this."

"I know."

He frowned, "What are you-"

"-Let me finish!" She giggled.

He playfully huffed and kept still.

A while later, she tied off the braids and kissed the crown of his head from behind. "Finished."

"Thank you, my love." He stood and approached the vanity to see her handiwork. Two braids ran down the top of his head, keeping the top layer of his hair up. "This is… rather impressive."

She smiled, "I am a Velaryon. If I know anything, it is how to braid."

He smiled back, moving to her and pulling her in to his arms, "I'm sorry for before. I should have spoken calmly to her. I lost my temper."

She leaned against him, "We all make mistakes, Cregan."

He nodded, "You have no idea how frustrated I get when she looks like you, but attains my stubbornness."

She began to laugh, "Well, perhaps the next one will be the opposite."

He frowned, "The next one? When will that be?"

She took his hand, leading it down to her currently flat stomach, "Maester says almost seven months to wait."

Cregan's eyes widened, "W… T… Truly?"

Y/n smiled, "Truly."

He let out a surprised and excited breath, grabbing her face and pulling her into a searing kiss. He pulled away and stared into her eyes, "Another one."

"Another one."

"The gods have blessed me tenfold."

"Aye. But you have to be the one to tell Lyanna that she will not be an only child."

He grinned, "A small price to pay, I assure you."

………………………………

Cregan Stark taglist: @misswynters, @cosmosnkaz, @sithapprentice, @kaniromi, @lovemesomevesey, @its-jackie-bb, @callsignwidow, @8812-342, @nyxbranwenn, @thorins-queen-of-erebor

[memetic-trigger-hazard]

Trope blender strikes again!

Since the formation of the Justice League Dark to deal with supernatural threats, Diana had been acting as the team's 'Superman' for lack of a better term.

It was, however, not a position she was entirely suited to, as ironically enough when engaging supernatural threats she was better suited to the same role that Batman played in the Justice League, engaging with superior training, tactics and specialised tools while also acting as battlefield tactical command.

With the lack of any other candidates however, she made do. But not for long.

Thanks to a wandering little girl, Diana had gained a new cousin and uncle who were refreshingly free of the hubris of the Greek pantheon, as well as an unexpected (and terrifying) meeting with her Grandfather who was far different from the stories, she supposed death and a few millennia would calm someone down. She was pleased however to add some paternal family members she could enjoy calm moments with.

Her Uncle was willing to help, however his backlog from the previous King in addition to the repairs and ongoing negotiations for reparations with the United States government made her feel guilt for placing further demands on him.

Her younger cousin however was more than happy to "get out of the house", her Father's comments about the expansiveness of a TARDIS castle completely ignored.

Ellie was already training with her old friend Pandora (So many happy reunions) so Diana was more than willing to take her to Themascerya for an initiation to the Sisterhood of Amazon's. Danny was ecstatic that his daughter was making friends.

Now Ellie as Banshee is JLD's front line fighter and Diana is the tactician, a dynamic duo of their own. Diana is so proud of her little cousin.

Which is why today was very..... Strange.

~

Basically the JLD have to head to the Watchtower for some threat, Ellie is super pumped because SPACE and Diana is excited to take her smol bean cousin to the Watchtower for the first time.

Batman and Co arrive and Drama TM occurs because "Holy shit that little girl looks like a Talia with blue eyes", Damian starts accusing and mouthing off, Ellie freaks because her Dad has warned her about the League of Assassins, so she freaks and bails.

Diana is explaining who Ellie is, how they're related when Uncanny Valley Danny in human form comes out of a portal in his "Royal Casual" work attire. Loose jeans,button up with vest, fluffy slippers with a coffee mug in hand. He's facing Diana, paying 0 attention to who else is there beyond "cool space station".

"Hey niece, why is my daughter running through my castle screaming about killer birds?"

"Ah, I believe she is referring to Robin being a former member of the League of Assassins." Diana replies.

Batman and the rest of the Justice League are tense, assessing this possible ally who RADIATES power and death. Anyone affected by death can feel it like static in their teeth during a lightning storm. Those who have been into the Lazarus Pits feel safe yet the overwhelming urge to KNEEL BEFORE YOUR KING.

"Well shit, someone actually escaped from the Fruit Loop Supreme? Anyone who gets away from my asshole grandfather is alright by me." Danny replies as he turns to look at the various heros, taking a sip from his mug.

"Danyal?" A faint hopeful whisper as Damian takes his mask off to look at his Brother (HOW, HOW? HE LOST HIM HE'S HERE HOW?) His dead twin somehow here and changed so much.

*Slurp*

"Well shit, didn't expect this."

This entire time Bruce's brain is making crunching noises.

It's not the extra son that's apparently God of the Afterlives. It's not the granddaughter.

Diana is his son's niece. Bruce had sex with his grand niece. Barbara is right, he needs therapy.

[struggling-with-drivers]

Under the Opulence - Max Verstappen

⋗ Pairing - Max Verstappen x Reader

⋗ Summary - Your family isn't kind to you, and in fact, they all think Max would be a much better fit for your sister. Max likes to differ.

⋗ Word count - 3.4k words, hurt/comfort

⋗ Masterlist - This has been finished for some time, but I've only gotten around to given it a name Feedback and reblogs are appreciated

The grandeur of your family's foyer, adorned with polished marble and intricate chandeliers, set the stage for Max’s introduction to the world you came from. As you and Max entered, the echoes of your footsteps reverberated through the opulent space, the air charged with excitement and anxiety, but most noticeably on your side, dread. 

Gabriella, your sister, emerged from an adjoining room, her presence demanding attention. With her radiant smile and effortless poise, she seemed to glide into the scene like a queen entering her court. She was the star of the family, the golden child who effortlessly commanded attention and adoration. With her striking looks and sharp intellect, she had always been the one to effortlessly charm anyone who crossed her path. Even your past romantic interests had succumbed to her allure, leaving you with the bitter taste of never good enough.

"It's okay, we're sisters," Gabriella would nonchalantly reassure you. "They weren't good enough for you if they wanted me more."

Her eyes, adorned with an air of confidence, locked onto Max, acknowledging his presence with a subtle yet unmistakable hint of curiosity. Bluntly scrutinising Max, she drank him up with her eyes, then she battered her long eyelashes a few times before slotting into the role of the perfect twin sister.

Max, a bit taken aback by the unexpected encounter, met Gabriella's gaze with a polite smile. That was all your sister needed before stepping forward, presenting her hand gracefully, a subtle gesture that belied the underlying power dynamics at play. Max, being the gentleman he was, reciprocated the greeting with a warm shake. However, as the customary exchange lingered for a moment longer than expected, you felt an unspoken tension building. 

“Gabriella, but you – my dear – can call me Gabbie.” Her voice sang in the foyer, bouncing so wonderfully off the walls. You wanted nothing more than to leave. Their hands were still intertwined. 

Instinctively, you began to withdraw your hand from his left, realising that you were caught in an awkward silence. Gabriella's grip on Max's hand tightened imperceptibly, and you hesitated for a split second, torn between asserting yourself and avoiding a confrontation. Finally, you reluctantly released Max's hand, a subtle concession that felt like surrender.

However, your parents made their grand entrance, drawn by the commotion in the foyer.

Gabriella finally let go of Max. She stepped back, allowing a brief respite from the charged exchange. 

Your mother, an elegant woman with an air of sophistication, approached with a warm smile. "Oh, there you all are! We were starting to wonder when you'd make it to the heart of the festivities."

As she spoke, her eyes lingered on Gabriella and Max, a subtle but knowing gleam in her eyes. It was as if she sensed the unspoken currents beneath the surface. Your father, a more reserved figure, stood beside her, observing the scene with a discerning gaze.

"Mom, Dad, this is Max," you introduced, trying to steer the conversation away from the palpable tension that lingered.

With an air of practised nonchalance, Gabriella returned her attention to Max, a playful smile gracing her lips. "Well, Max, it's a pleasure to finally meet you. I've heard so much about you," she purred, her words leaving an ambiguous trail of intentions.

She tried to grasp his hand once again, but instead, he started helping you out of your coat to keep his hands busy.

Max, still wanting to leave a good impression, responded with a friendly smile. "Likewise, Gabriella. Your sister here has spoken highly of you too," he said, casting a glance in your direction, before he extended a polite hand toward your parents, exchanging pleasantries as he tried to steer the conversation towards the two newcomers in the foyer. 

Gabriella subtly positioned herself beside him, a silent claim reaffirmed. The atmosphere remained charged, your parents seemingly ignorant of the intricate dynamics playing out before them. The dreadful feeling returned to you as your mom made eye contact with you once more. You averted your eyes.

Gabriella, seizing the opportunity, looped her arm through Max's, as if marking her territory. "Max, let me give you a tour of this magnificent place. There are so many things you haven't seen yet," she exclaimed, her tone holding a mixture of innocence and mischief.

Your heart sank as you watched them disappear into the lavish corridors of your family home.

“Let them go, honey. I’m sure he will be quite interested in our family’s history.” Your mother commented, foregoing the formality of any other type of recognition or greeting to you as she and your dad disappeared after Gabriella and Max.

Leaving you on your own in the opulent foyer, you wished to leave once more.

Determined to regain some semblance of composure, you wandered into the adjacent parlour, a room adorned with plush furniture and rich tapestries. The soft glow of antique lamps cast a warm ambience, but even the comforting setting couldn't dispel the growing unease. You settled into a chair, the plush upholstery offering little solace for the whirlwind of emotions swirling within. The room seemed to close in on you as you anxiously waited for Max and Gabriella to return. The dreadful feeling intensified with every passing moment, and your mind raced with unsettling thoughts.

Finally, the door swung open, and they entered the parlour. Gabriella's laughter echoed through the room. Max wore a polite smile, seemingly having enjoyed the tour, but you couldn't shake the feeling that Gabriella was orchestrating an elaborate performance.

"This place is quite… something," Max said, casting a glance in your direction as if seeking reassurance or acknowledgement. You tried to smile at him. Gabriella, however, continued to dominate the spotlight.

"We have quite the family history," she replied with a sly smile, her eyes flickering between Max and you. "It's a shame you won't be able to hear all the juicy details."

You forced another smile in response, but the unease gnawed at you. As they settled into the room, Gabriella strategically took the seat next to Max, her gestures and expressions aimed at enchanting him right before your eyes.

The conversation flowed effortlessly between them, a dance of words that excluded you from its rhythm. You felt like a mere observer in your own home, watching as Gabriella captivated Max with tales of the family's past, her laughter ringing like an enchanting melody.

Your attempts to engage in the conversation were met with fleeting glances as if your presence were an afterthought. Gabriella was ever so quick to recapture Max’s attention, despite your valiant efforts to seek a way into the discussion.

Desperate for a reprieve, you finally excused yourself under the pretence of attending to something in the kitchen. As you escaped the room, the weight of the evening bore down on you, and you couldn't shake the sinking feeling that this family gathering had become a stage for a performance in which you had no choice but to play a reluctant supporting role.

In the kitchen, you busied yourself with trivial tasks, the rhythmic clinking of dishes providing a brief respite from the orchestrated drama in the parlour. The tension that had followed you from the foyer to the parlour lingered like an unwelcome guest, and you desperately sought a moment of solitude to collect your thoughts.

As you absentmindedly stacked plates from the dishwasher, your mother entered the kitchen, her gaze lingering on you with a knowing expression. It was as if she could sense the turbulence beneath the composed facade you were desperately trying to maintain.

"Oh, dear, are you alright?" she inquired, her tone carrying a hint of concern.

You forced a smile, attempting to deflect the obvious discomfort. "I'm fine, just needed a moment away from the chatter in there."

Your mother's eyes softened, but there was a glint of curiosity. "Well, I must say, Gabriella and Max make quite the pair. They look so good together, don't you think?"

The question hung in the air, a subtle prod at the heart of the matter. You felt a knot tighten in your stomach as you processed the implications of your mother's words. It was a commentary that cut through the facade you were desperately trying to maintain.

"Oh, Mom, they're just chatting. It doesn't mean anything," you responded, attempting to downplay the situation.

Your mother, however, seemed undeterred. "I don't know, dear. They do seem to have a certain chemistry, don't you think? They'd make a handsome couple."

The weight of her words settled on you like an anvil, and you struggled to find a suitable response. The kitchen, for a brief moment, had been a sanctuary, but now felt like a confessional where you were forced to confront the complexities of your feelings.

"I...I don't know, Mom. It's just an introduction," you stammered, your attempts to maintain composure faltering.

Her gaze lingered on you for a moment, and then she sighed, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "You know, sometimes we find unexpected connections in the most peculiar places. And if they happen to find something special tonight, well, we should be happy for them, shouldn't we?"

You felt a surge of frustration and helplessness.

“It’s such a shame his looks just aren’t quite there, but he certainly has other features to make up for it. Wouldn’t you say so as well? Yes, a shame, but Gabriella has always been so kind-hearted. I’m sure she doesn’t mind either.” Your mother continued, before finally smiling at you. 

Her message was loud and clear, as she had expressed her approval of Max as a suitable match for Gabriella. 

Your mother wanted you to break up with Max and hand him over.

It was as though Max was a commodity to be exchanged, a possession for your sister to play with until she grew tired and moved on. It made you feel sick to the stomach. 

“Dinner is all ready, your father just put down the roast on the table.”

You followed your mother into the dining room, the scent of the roast filling the air. The grand table, adorned with fine china and polished silverware, became the stage for the next act in this familial drama.

As you took your seat, Max seated next to you, your parents strategically positioned Gabriella opposite Max. The tension in the room was palpable, and you couldn't shake the feeling that every word and gesture would be scrutinised.

"So, Max," your mother began, her eyes flickering between Max and Gabriella, "how did you find our home? Quite exquisite, isn't it?"

Max, thankfully pr-trained, nodded appreciatively. "It's a stunning place with so much history."

Gabriella's eyes gleamed with satisfaction, and you braced yourself for what would come next. Your mother, however, wasn't finished.

"And speaking of history," she continued, casting a pointed look at Gabriella, "our family has quite a rich one. Gabriella, why don't you share some of the highlights? Max might find it fascinating."

“It’s alright, I think I heard enough earlier,” Max told your mom, “I would much rather hear childhood stories about her.” He turned his head, making himself able to look into your eyes, and you felt the dread spread. Despite the way he looked at you, it did nothing to calm you down, knowing your parents would not deliver what Max was expecting to be told about.

Max's genuine interest in hearing about your childhood seemed to momentarily disrupt the carefully choreographed performance. Your mother, however, skilfully manoeuvred to maintain the narrative she had meticulously constructed.

"Oh, Max, you're sweet," your mother said, offering a polite smile, "but Gabriella's achievements are the true highlights. She's always been the shining star of our family."

Your sister, seizing the opportunity, began to regale Max with tales of her academic triumphs, artistic pursuits, and social accomplishments. As she spoke, you felt the distance between you and Max widen, a chasm fuelled by your parents' insistence on casting Gabriella as the focal point of the conversation.

Max, sensing the discomfort, tried to redirect the conversation toward a more inclusive narrative. "I'm sure there are some other stories you could tell, perhaps some that aren’t about Gabriell-?"

“Please Max, do call me Gabby.” Gabriella interrupted Max.

Your mother exchanged a knowing glance with your father before responding, "Oh, there are plenty of stories, but I think Gabriella's achievements are what make our family truly special. Don't you agree, Max?"

Max hesitated for a moment, his frustration simmering beneath the surface. However, not wanting to create a scene, he nodded uncomfortably, "Yes, I guess Gabriella is quite accomplished."

Gabriella shot you a coy smile, her triumph was evident in the subtle control she exerted over the narrative. As the conversation continued to revolve around her, Max's attempts to steer it in a different direction seemed to hit an invisible wall.

Your parents, seemingly oblivious to Max's growing discomfort, continued to extol Gabriella's virtues. The room buzzed with the clinking of silverware and the murmur of praise, all while you sat there, a silent observer of your own family dinner.

As dessert was served, Max couldn't hide the subtle tenseness in his shoulders. He glanced at you, a mix of empathy and frustration in his eyes. Despite the challenging circumstances, you appreciated his efforts to bridge the gap.

When Max tried to ask about your childhood again, your mother skilfully redirected the conversation. "Oh, Max, we can talk about that another time. Let's focus on the present moment and enjoy the evening."

Your sister, seizing every opportunity to keep the spotlight, interjected, "You know, Max, I've always been curious about your interests and aspirations. Tell us more about yourself."

The shift in attention to Max was noticeable, but it wasn't the genuine interest he had hoped for. Instead, it felt like another tactic to steer the conversation away from you. Max, his patience waning, briefly shared short anecdotes about his work, nothing he hadn’t already told to the media. However, his eyes kept returning to you, his fingers intertwined with you. As though you were oblivious to the way your sister's feet – under the table – were trying to urge Max to look at her. 

The night wore on, and Max's frustration continued to build, a silent storm brewing within him. The genuine smile he had worn upon arrival had now transformed into a tight-lipped expression, betraying his growing discontent.

Your dad had taken it upon himself to serve a glass of whiskey to him and Max, while your mother brought forth an array of finger foods and other light and savoury snacks. Your family settled around the nice fireplace in the big sitting room, it’s even more extravagant and opulent than the smaller parlour room you had tried to take refuge in earlier in the day. 

When your sister, seemingly oblivious to the tension, leaned closer to Max, her voice dripping with false sweetness, "You know, Max, we're so thrilled to have you here. It's not often we get such distinguished company." 

Max, no longer willing to play along, shifted uncomfortably on the beige couch. "Thank you for having me. It's been... quite an experience," he replied, his tone carrying a subtle edge.

Your father, still under the illusion that the evening had gone splendidly, raised his glass. "A toast! To family and new beginnings."

Max's frustration reached its peak as his eyes locked on your dad’s raised glass. Max abruptly stood up, the sound of him slamming his glass down echoing in the sudden silence. The tension in the room was palpable as he looked directly at your parents.

"I appreciate your hospitality, but I can't ignore the blatant disregard for your own daughter," he said, his voice measured but firm. "I came here hoping to learn more about her, but it seems the spotlight is reserved for someone else."

Gabriella's eyes widened in feigned innocence, a practised mask that Max wasn't buying. Your parents exchanged uneasy glances, finally sensing the budding cracks in their carefully constructed facade.

"I won't be a part of a charade that dismisses her existence," Max continued, his frustration now laid bare. "If you can't appreciate the amazing person she is, then I want no part in this. Goodnight."

Without waiting for a response, Max pulled you from the couch. As you both retreated from the sitting room, leaving behind the echoes of tension and shattered illusions, you felt a strange mixture of relief and sorrow.

Max led you through the ornate hallways of your family home, the grandeur of the surroundings now feeling suffocating. The air outside was cool and crisp as you stepped onto the front porch, the distant sounds of the night providing a stark contrast to the stifling atmosphere within.

He turned to you, his eyes reflecting a mix of frustration and concern. "I'm sorry, I didn't expect it to be like this."

You managed a small smile, appreciating his genuine intentions. "It's not your fault. Thank you for trying."

Max sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Your family... it's not what I expected."

You nodded, feeling a lump forming in your throat. "It's never been easy."

"Look, I don't know what's going on, but you deserve better than this," Max said, his voice filled with sincerity. "I'm here for you, no matter what."

As Max navigated the darkened streets, a palpable tension and heavy silence filled the car ride home between you and him. The glow of streetlights cast fleeting shadows across his determined expression, the lines of worry etched into his brow.

You sat beside him, lost in your thoughts, the events of the evening replaying in your mind like a broken record. The weight of the strained interactions with your family weighed heavily on your shoulders, a burden you couldn't shake.

Max glanced at you from the corner of his eye, his concern evident in the furrow of his brow. "Are you okay?" he asked softly, breaking the silence that had enveloped the car.

You sighed, your gaze fixed on the passing scenery outside the window. "I don't know, Max. Tonight was… a lot. I’m sorry for Gabriella."

“They shouldn’t have said any of that.” Max ignored your comment, “that’s not- even I know that’s now how you treat family.”

“I’m sorry for Gabriella.” You tried to tell him once again, instead finding his hand reaching out to tangle it into yours. 

As Max's hand intertwined with yours, a comforting warmth spread through your fingertips, grounding you in the present moment. His touch was a lifeline, offering solace amidst the turmoil that had consumed your family gathering. You squeezed his hand gently, appreciating the silent support he offered.

Max pulled the car over, letting him turn to you and gaze into your eyes.

"I know you're sorry, love," Max whispered, his voice laced with understanding. "But you can't take responsibility for someone else's idiotic words. Gabriella's actions were uncalled for, and it's not your parents should have stopped it, not… Encouraged it."

His words resonated deep within you, reminding you that you were not solely accountable for the strained relationship with your parents. The weight on your shoulders began to lighten as if Max's presence alone could alleviate the burden.

You turned to him, finally meeting his concerned gaze. "Thank you, Max. Your support means the world to me."

He smiled softly, his eyes filled with tenderness. "I'll always be here for you, no matter what. We'll get through this together, alright?"

A surge of gratitude washed over you, grateful for the unwavering love and understanding Max consistently provided. You squeezed his hand once more, as he pulled out of the ditch. 

The car continued to glide through the darkened streets, but the heavy silence had transformed into a comforting embrace of shared vulnerability.

As the glow of streetlights continued to cast fleeting shadows, you realised that it was in the darkest moments that the strength of your relationship with Max shone the brightest. And with his hand clasped firmly in yours, you knew that together, you could weather any storm or awful family dinner.

⋗ a/n - thank you for reading this, sorry that it took so long to post this one

[madrone33]

Number 1 Rule of adapting the Odyssey into EPIC is: if it can be more dramatic, it will be more dramatic.

The Greeks decide to throw the infant Trojan prince from the walls because they're scared he'll try to avenge his family? No, Zeus comes down to personally give Odysseus a vision of being killed and says his family WILL die. Kill the baby that reminds you of your son right now, it's the gods will.

Odysseus goes to greet the inhabitants of an island and gets trapped in a cave for two days by the cyclops that's eating his men one by one? Nope, we got BOSS BATTLE 30v1 in the Ithacans' favour until BAM fourteen pancakes are made by Polyphemus' club and oh shit Polites is DEAD-

Athena is just vaugely absent for the whole journey until the end? We got emotionally charged platonic breakups instead, with yelling and insults and "well I'm breaking up with you FIRST!"

Smooth sailing to Ithaca? STOOOORM-

Odysseus' great-great-great-grandfather giving him a speed boost to help him on his way home? Get ready for trickster wind gods, mischievous winions, and a game that was rigged from the start.

Random-ass suspicious and greedy crew mates open the bag? It's Eurylochus, his second in command, his brother-in-law, the man he trusted, Eurylochus WHYYY

Parking in the wrong harbour and getting boulders thrown at the fleet by angry man-eating giants while Odysseus backs away veeery slowly? Nah Poseidon himself pulls up to dunk on them, and Odysseus has to make a last minute getaway using the power of STOOORM to avoid being curbstomped like his fleet.

Odysseus gets some stronger drugs from a god to make him immune to the other drugs of a goddess? Well these drugs actually give him magic powers which he uses to engage in a Pokémon/Yu-Gi-Oh style BOSS BATTLE!

Get some closure with dead loved ones and acquaintances, and be the first interviewer of the fallen heroes of past ages? Nope, we just got TRAUMA and a whole boatload of guilt!

A neat outline of what the rest of the journey will look like, a warning against an island of cows that will slow him down, and the way to appease Poseidon? This Tiresias just says "Y'know there used to be a world where you made it home, BUT I DON'T SEE IT NO MORE. IT'S GONE. IT'S OVER. Also, your palace is fucked."

Sailing past the sirens while getting to be the first mortal to hear their song and live? M U R D E R

Sailing past Scylla to avoid Charybdis and accidentally getting six men eaten because he thought he could totally take Scylla, even though Circe said he couldn't, and then he realised he, in fact, cannot take Scylla? ... Eurylochus, light up six torches.

Eurylochus waits till Odysseus is out hunting and then goes behind his back to mutinously rally the crew and feast on some sacred cattle? Betrayal on both sides, stabby stab, K.O., and then Odysseus helplessly watches them make the greatest mistake of their lives as they ignore his pleas.

Quick clean and easy lightning-strike to the ship, leaving Odysseus to cling to some driftwood and paddle away? Zeus himself appears to the mortals, monologues, makes Odysseus be the one to choose, and then smites the whole ship leaving Odysseus to nearly drown anyway.

Telemachus gets advice from a disguised Athena to yell at the suitors and then sail away to look for news of his missing father? Telemachus gets into a full on beatdown with the suitors and gets FIGHT CLUB TRAINING from Athena!

Athena goes "dad I want my favourite mortal back? Did you forget about him? I think you forgot about him" and Zeus instantly replies "nonsense. How could I have forgotten that funny little mortal? Of course you can have him back my sweet favoured child <3" and then Athena skips off to Ithaca? "Father please-" "LIGHTNING BOLT! ANOTHER LIGHTNING BOLT! LIGHTNING BOLT TO THE FACE HOW DARE YOU ASK ME OF SUCH A THING!"

Poseidon does a double take "wait they let him go?? Oh hell nah!" and then sends a giant fuck off storm for Odysseus to swim through until he reaches the Phaeacians? No, Poseidon's just been there on Ithaca's shores, waiting for eight years, now get in the water BITCH- except Odysseus is just like "oh yeah? Fucking FIGHT ME"

You thought the suitors in the Odyssey were bad? Jorge really just said "dial that shit up to ELEVEN"

[mariasont]

hi hiiiiii!!! could you do a hotch x bau reader where there’s an age difference between them like she’s in her 20’s and she has a crush on him and thinks it’s stupid and the team tease her about it but apparently he has a crush on her too? thank youuuu i love your work so much

Stupid Crush - A.H

a/n: your wish is my command, thank you so much for requesting i hope you love it <3

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

warnings: idiots crushing on each other, age gap (20s and 40s), garcia spilling the beans about reader's crush (not cool penelope!)

wc: 1.4k

Your tennis shoes were scuffing into the padded floor, hands resting on your hips while your bottom lip bore the brunt of your anxious chewing. You were here to train, led by your favorite boss.

But your concentration was slipping, stolen by the sight of that same boss, Aaron Hotchner, who managed to make even the simplest training gear look exceptionally good.

You were trying to be discreet, but with your track record, you were sure that wasn't the case. As the youngest member of the team, you'd grown accustomed to the good-natured teasing--a sort of rite of passage, really. But the teasing took on a new intensity whenever it involved your poorly concealed crush on Hotch.

The whole team knew, and they would never let you forget that they knew, constantly reminding you of the way you laughed a little too hard at his dad jokes, how you were the first to agree with his plans, and how you were always finding an excuse to stay late and help him with paperwork.

And to your absolute horror, their teasing was as subtle as a sledgehammer. Morgan winking at you when Hotch compliments your work, Prentiss sending you mortifying texts anytime he was near, and Garcia had taken to called you Mrs. Hotchner when in private.

You blinked--once, twice--as you attempted to refocus your attention to where Hotch's mouth was moving, explaining something about a wrist release move, meant to disarm a larger attacker from behind--a lesson you definitely should be absorbing. Instead, it took the unexpected call of your name from his direction to snap you out of your daze.

He was motioning you to the front. Your brows leapt upwards, and you looked around, hoping for an out of some sort. Bu the knowing looks and suppressed chuckles of your teammates made it clear--they wouldn't dream of intervening, not when they were about to be so thoroughly amused.

You let out a small, defeated sigh as you allowed your legs to carry you forward, all the while ignoring the team's exchange of looks as if they could just sense how flustered you were sure to get.

"How do you want me?"

You resisted the urge to slap a hand over your mouth as soon as you said it, the room filled with muffled snickers. Hotch didn't bat an eye, all but manhandling you, turning you to face the wall with him at your back.

"Now, when the unsub grabs you from behind, like this," he says, his arm a firm band across your chest in a way that made you have to remember how to breathe. "Your first instinct is to panic. But you need to stay calm and think about your next move."

"That might be kind of hard for her." The comment, possibly from JJ, washed over you, igniting a wave of heat that spread like wildfire across your skin.

"The key here is to use the unsub's grip against them. You're going to twist your wrist towards their thumb. The thumb is the weakest part of their grip. So you'll rotate like this," he guides your hand, "and pull down sharply."

You followed his instructions, doing your utmost to overlook just how close he was to you and the way it was sending your senses into a tailspin, especially as his voice seemed to echo intimately in your ear. 

"Now, as you're doing that, you want to step to the side, out of their immediate reach. This will give you the space to turn and face the threat. Then, with your free hand, you deliver a strike to the unsub's face or neck to incapacitate them."

As he stepped back, air filled your lungs once more. You managed to move independently, but you kept your chin dipped low, hiding your face, terrified by the thought of him noticing the fluster all over your face.

"Let's try that again, but this time, I want you to do it without my guidance," he instructed. His voice was clear, but your attention had drifted to the curve of his cheek, the focus in his eyes. "Remember, swift and precise movements. And don't forget to breathe."

Another round of giggles. You were going to hide all of their favorite mugs later.

You returned to the starting position, fitting snugly against him. This time, his hand on your hip brushed against bare skin, eliciting an instinctive twitch and a giggle from your lips.

"You okay?"

You pressed you lips together, silently thanking the gods as his hand found a new home on your shoulder. A mute nod was all you could muster, not trusting your own words as you repeated his instructions, ignoring the searing heat that seemed to engulf your body.

"Good. That's exactly what you need to do." Your nose and ears were burning. "It's not about strength; it's about leverage." He pressed a hand to your back as he faced the rest of the team. "Alright, take five."

After the demonstration, you and Garcia were huddled by the water cooler, taking a generous sip as if that would somehow cool down your insides.

Garcia leaned in, pushing her glasses up her nose, and murmured, "You know, if you keep acting like that, Hotch is going to figure out that you're not just for his profiling skills."

You sputtered, water dribbling down your chin as you tried to form a denial, but what emerged was nothing short of babble, and you were acutely aware that your expression was likely revealing everything you wished to hide.

A throat cleared behind you, and you felt a chill run through you, your hand automatically setting the cup down. Garcia's eyes turned to saucers, and you didn't need to turn around to know who it was--your body's instinctive response to his nearness said it all.

"Could I see you in my office?"

You whipped around, thumb jabbing into your chest as your gaze collided with his. "Me?"

"Yes, you."

Your heart seemed to sink, but still, you obediently followed him, like a puppy. Morgan's elbow connected with your side as you walked by, mouthing a good luck.

Alright, new plan, you weren't just going to hide Morgan's favorite mug, you were going to throw it out the window.

You trailed Hotch into his office, gesturing to the chair in front of his desk, your heart pounding as he closed the door with a click--never a good sign.

"I'm really sorry, sir. Garcia's just, you know, she's probably drunk, and I don't have—well, you're definitely hot, obviously, I mean, not obviously, but I didn't mean—,"

Hotch cut you short with the raise of his hand, moving so he was sitting in his chair behind the desk. "What are you talking about?"

"Garcia's comment, about me having a crush on you," you admit, and then your mouth forms the perfect o of realization. "Unless you didn't hear that, and I just outed myself for no reason?"

His brows nearly disappeared into his hairline. "You have a—,"

"Right, so you didn't hear that. Forget I said anything. I'm sure there's something I need to do... somewhere else, so I'll just—,"

You were scrambling out of your chair, silently pleasing for the floor to open up, but you didn't get far, a hand wrapping around your wrist, keeping you firmly in place.

"Hold on a second."

"Please, Hotch. I've humiliated myself enough, don't you think? If you have any respect for me still, let me leave with at least some of my dignity intact."

You were already mentally mapping out your options: transferring, resigning, even fleeing the country. A different name, a new passport--Garcia could probably help with that.

"I hold you in a higher regard than just respect." Each word was diminishing the space between you.

Maybe you could go to Puerto Rico? That's still technically U.S. territory. Or maybe Mexico, though, given Reid's history, it's probably best to steer clear.

"Well, that's good, I guess."

He pauses, pinching the bridge of his nose before looking up. "I'm not good at this."

"Good at what?"

"Asking pretty women on dates."

"Who are you asking on a date?"

"Christ." He exhaled sharply before leaning forward, pressing a soft, firm kiss to your lips. 

When he pulled away, you blinked up at him, raising an eyebrow. "Oh, am the pretty woman you're trying to ask out?"

"Is that a yes?"

You couldn't help the wide smile that spread across your face. "That's sooooo a yes."

You looped your arms around his neck and pulling him down for another kiss. This time, it was deeper. You decided that you could kiss him forever, and it would still be your favorite pastime.

Maybe it wasn't such a stupid crush.

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna @readergf @sarcasm-and-stiles @edencherries @aurorsworld @princess76179 @malindacath @freyy253

[ma1dita]

to catch a thief

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 3.7k

summary: (post-TLT, sea of monsters compliant/spoilers) The one where duty calls at Camp Half-Blood. Again. Your reunion with Luke is nothing you both could have ever expected. (Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader)

a/n: we’re so back trouble!verse ;) sorry for the post birthday hiatus on this, hope you like it! crack banter but err... she got a lil angsty

(posted 3/22/24, semi-edited)

—

When you wake up to the gentle rolling of the sea, it feels like a comforting embrace in a distant dream. Tangled within pristine white sheets, you could smell the salt through the small opening in the bay window–though this was a far cry from a fairytale conjured by your mind.

This was your reality. 

You wouldn’t call it a nightmare per se, but the circumstances were definitely less than preferred. 

This is not the CSS Birmingham. No, that went up in flames. Retracing your steps to what led you to this—cushy cruise line of a prison, you reckon it’s been a few days now since you’ve become a stowaway, or a hostage. You haven’t quite decided yet. 

Gods, this is what you get for passing up on that summer research internship. 

Dropping off Percy, Annabeth, and Tyson at camp was supposed to be a fun walk down memory lane—until meeting with your dad, finding out Thalia’s tree had been poisoned, watching Chiron get fired, and essentially getting kicked out by the troll of a man who originally got sent to the Fields of Punishment for marketing the taste of human flesh made you remember that nothing at camp is the way it used to be.

Not like before, when you and Luke used to run it.

Your dad told you to go home and wait till you were needed. Home. Driving away from it this time around was harder than you thought it would be. You’d never been the patient type, and to drop everything just because a god told you to?

Hilarious, really.

But almost a week later, after rejoining your friends on an undead ship that you let the kids commandeer, your vital mistake was thinking that Clarisse’s quest would be a breeze. Rookie move, since the last one you were on left you almost as scarred as Luke was. Even thinking of him now, you run your thumb over the rough patch of skin on your palm. 

At the very least you hoped Tyson was okay. The last memory you have of the young Cyclops was watching him from your place on the ladder as he stopped the engines from overheating. Maybe it was the ex-head counselor in you, or your increased threshold to pain, but there was no way in hell you were leaving that kid behind.

The sound of voices from outside your door gets louder now, your throat feeling like you’ve been swallowing wads of cotton and a persistent ringing in your ear that hurts just as bad as when you watch Chris Rodriguez walk in with a plate of food. The last one he slid through the door bumps against his boot, still uneaten and he sighs. 

“So what, you’re on a hunger strike now? I forgot how difficult you could be.”

You bark out a laugh. Thankfully it’s loud enough that it almost conceals the rumble of your stomach. Gritting your teeth, you mumble, “Wish it could be an idiot strike. I forgot how much of a bitch you are when it comes to your brother, Rodriguez. How long are you going to keep me here? It’s been days.”

Your former friend rolls his eyes at your dramatics like he doesn’t hold the key to your freedom.

“Three since you woke up, actually. Come on, you’ve gotta eat, or I’ll get my ass kicked,” he grumbles. You raise an eyebrow at that, walking towards the window to dodge the uncomfortable tension that fills the room. He plucks an apple slice off your plate.

“He couldn’t splurge on a balcony view? Monsters aside, it’s not like you’ve reached full occupancy.”

“There are more mortals here than you think. To be honest, he was worried you would find a way to overthrow us,” the tanned boy admits, placing the tray on the dresser. It was always a wonder to him how you and Luke were more alike than you think, even now—even when Luke hasn’t come to see you. Talking to you reminded him that you’re both pains in his ass, and Chris was still unsure of who to be more wary of, but he’s been in charge of watching you for the most part.

“Well tell your stupid captain he has no right to be worried about me. I’d much rather try to jump if given the opportunity.”

There’s no response, so you turn to face Chris who’s eating a croissant with a bashful grin.

“Seriously dude?”

“Listen, I’m hoping if I think of the right words to say, he’ll come in and deal with you himself. Opposite sides of a war and you’re still both giving me a headache. Just like old times,” he chuckles, flakes of pastry dotting across his chest plate. Your mouth quirks into a bitter smile. Old times, when Luke would shove you if he couldn’t think of a reply fast enough. When you’d punch him to get your point across if he wasn’t listening. How a kiss could end any waging war between the both of you.

You swallow, turning slowly to watch your reflection in the glass of the windowpane.

Why hasn't he come to see you? The first day, you remember spending out on the sea—treading water with no land in sight, calling out to your friends until your voice went hoarse, but you didn’t cry. You know better than to show weakness now, even when no one’s around. Chris tells you over a gulp of orange juice that you washed up next to the Princess Andromeda on the second day like it was fate. Though fate was never truly that kind to anyone; it felt like it was laughing in your face. Knocked out cold for two days after, and ignoring all of Chris’s attempts to keep you alive in the days that followed, you’ve been in this room ever since. You barely notice Chris’s departure. 

Entering the ensuite bathroom, you splash your face and sip on water from the tap before stopping at the doorway. A shadow flits at the seam near your feet, someone standing just out of sight when you peer through the peephole.

But you know Luke’s there. Sons of Hermes have almost undetectable footsteps, however, Luke walking in and out of your life for as long as he has—there’s no inconceivable way to not know him. Perhaps you couldn’t hear the sound of his feet, but there’s a way the wind shifts your hair, your heart slowing in ease at his presence, and the scent of him reminiscent of skin kissed with the peel of an orange. The skin you used to kiss and greet and know like your own.

The shadow fades just as your hand reaches out towards it, leaving like he always does. Always out of reach.

Even as the Princess Andromeda continues to set sail upon the calm waters of the Atlantic Coast, you look out to the unending horizon and still feel like you’re drowning.

—

“Status report, soldier?”

Chris rolls his eyes, popping the last piece of apple into his mouth as he strolls into the command deck. The both of you had a flair for the dramatic—it serves as his reminder of why you two worked so well. Luke is sitting in his captain’s seat, watching the waves crash against the hull as the sun begins to set on the skyline.

“She’s angry. Anyone would be if they were locked up like that.”

“Well, yeah, but tell me something I don’t know. Something useful, Rodriguez,” Luke says, flicking his pocket knife closed. It’s still sticky with the juice of the fruit, catching onto his finger. He hisses, but then the sound of loud footsteps boom down the corridor, along with the sound of maniacal laughter as the door slams open. The two sons of Hermes look at each other curiously, knowing it all too well.

“You know, the next time you send a 9-year-old to stand guard, remember to not make it the one we used to throw into the lake,” you drawl, sauntering into the bridge and looking around until your eyes land on your ex, “and also remember that you taught me how to pick locks.”

Ethan Nakamura heaves behind you, hands on his knees before he stands to attention and salutes his captain.

“Sir, I was just following orders… and I’m not 9 anymore!” he snaps, glaring at you. Laughing at the absurdity of the situation makes it easier to get through. You thought being surrounded by the undead on the CSS Birmingham was scary enough, but standing in a room with ghosts from your past was somehow worse. Honestly, you learned a lot more by being in that room than if you were to jump ship like you wanted to.

“I taught you how to tie your shoes, Ethan. You’re always gonna be a little kid to me,” you scoff, brushing him aside and walking towards Luke, “your new digs are fancy, by the way. I could tell by all the teenage soldiers chasing me through the tourists.”

He stands up and meets you head to head, as the both of you inspect each other closely. 

It’s been a long year without you.

You look thinner. You’ve lost the softness in your cheeks and your eyes are tired. He wonders what you chose to major in, who your roommates are, if you still think of him with a smile on your face. You’re still beautiful.

“You know me, I like to travel in style,” Luke says offhandedly, a half smile on his face. For someone leading a war against the gods, he’s calm in your presence.

“Back when I knew you, we traveled in a tin can that we also called a car.”

His clothes are nicer than anything you’ve ever seen him in. He looks really fucking good, for someone on the run. It’s almost frustrating to see how brawny he’s gotten, muscles rippling as he crosses his arms. You suppose he has nothing to do now but practice and spar (that or he’s definitely flexing for you). Pulling at the drawstring of the joggers you wear, you realize his initials are embroidered on the pocket. Pretentious fuck. Did he change you once you got on board?

Chris and Ethan suddenly get the feeling that they’re interrupting something—a reunion in a blockbuster romantic movie they’ve seen the mortals play out on the ship deck’s projector on Friday nights. The two of you stand there arguing like a married couple despite the fact you are no longer lovers and the bickering continues even when more of Kronos’ army files in. You laugh again at the sight of children walking in—some strangers, others you’ve sung to sleep in cabin 11, all still children, even back from the time before when laughter didn’t have to have a reason, light and airy in the summer sun.

“You’re sick, you know that? Did you just plan to let me rot in that room until it was all over? You didn’t even talk to m—”

“Classic, you’re more mad that I didn’t talk to you over the fact that you’re a prisoner,” he seethes, but you don’t stand down—not now or ever.

“Prisoner? I walked out and none of your Boy Scouts could do anything about it!”

His face is turning red now, jaw tightening at the angst but deep down he misses this—the banter, the thin line between hate and love you both tread on. You may be a damsel. But you were not in distress.

To further prove your point, you swing an arm toward one of the boys in black (their uniforms were annoyingly corny), and they all take a step back toward the wall. Your eyebrows furrow, “What type of prison has guards terrified of the prisoner?”

He shrugs, “It was only time before you came and found me. I even gave you a bay window.”

That was not the right thing to say.

“I’ll fucking kill yo—”

“Sir? So do we try and detain her, or….” one of the demigods you don’t know interjects, and Chris Rodriguez sucks at his teeth before he responds. 

“Alright. We’ve seen enough of the show. Everyone file out and let Castellan reunite with his girlfriend.”

“GIRLFRIEND?”

“Girlfriend…”

The both of you look at each other, one in anger, the other in sheepishness now that you’re alone. It's even funnier that neither of you deny it.

“You left me there in that room, and by the sight of things around here you prefer being in the company of monsters than being with me, so by the gods, what do you want, Castellan?”

You fall into the captain’s chair exasperatedly, watching him watch you.

“I’m giving you a choice,” he says simply. “You can stay here with me, or you can go.”

“A choice? You captured me to tell me I have a choice,” you spit, as if that was the stupidest thing he could say. “You didn’t give me a choice when you left me.”

“It was a matter of the circumstances. And I didn't capture you—are you mad that I betrayed everyone or not, because I can’t really read you right now, Trouble…”

Your eye twitches and your hands are in fists across your lap. Another wrong thing to say.

“Keeping me here until I get the nerve to talk to you is not a choice, asshole. Do you think you could just hide me away until the bad part’s over? To save me until everything's good enough for you?” Your eyes catch onto the droplets of blood that fall onto the hardwood flooring near your feet. His hand is bleeding, and like it’s nothing of the sort you reach out for it.

Luke thinks that if he lets you your hand will still perfectly fit in his, so after a moment, he pulls his hand away out of your reach. Pulling a handkerchief out of your pocket (also embroidered with his initials—note to self, never let a son of Hermes have money), you stand to wrap it around his hand to stop the bleeding. You pretend not to notice his heartbeat increase through the throbbing of the cloth.

“Don’t let my actions make you believe that what we had wasn’t good, Trouble.”

“Stop calling me that. Why are they all scared of me? Why won’t you let me touch you?” you whisper, putting pressure on his finger until the blood clots. It doesn’t even hurt, to tell you the truth. Not touching you when you’re right here in front of him is a pain he can’t find the words to describe. But what he’ll never understand is that he’s right. You two were good together. You’d have him through the bad too, if only he let you.

“Because you might think you can fix me.” Or worse, you might change his mind. You don't have to say you love him for him to know it. A part of him wishes he didn’t have to do all of this to prove to you he feels the same. 

“Would you have left with me?” he mutters. A wistful look cuts through your anger and he knows he’s finally said something right. His pocket knife is on the control board and your hands drop to your side again when you realize that he may have forgotten to tell his battalion of who you are to him, but he still remembers how you like your apples cut. The silence is loud, even with the twinge that comes with the pain in your eardrum as you sway a little on your feet. Your body still knows it can relax with him, knees buckling with a false sense of security despite your willpower.

“I would've made it so that there was no other option for you but to want to stay.”

A soldier bursts through the door and apologizes for the intrusion, but the both of you have found out all you need to know. The moment is over and Percy Jackson has been captured by the army in his efforts of trying to save the day. There’s a look shared between the two of you that wonders if this will become a trend.

—

Licking your lips as your… Luke guides you out onto the main deck with your hands behind your back, you can taste the salt in your air. It’s almost as evident as the surprise in your friends’ faces when they see you alive. This time, they don’t question your allegiance but in the chaos that ensues, for a moment, you do.

For a moment, you wonder what would change if you decided to stay with him. Would the sky fall under your feet? Would the gods kneel like Luke said they would? Looking at him in your periphery, you realize it’s not what the both of you want, even if it’s the easier way out—to be together despite it all.

The two of you against the world instead of the world against the both of you.

But he won't even touch you—he’s holding you over the sleeves of your shirt, too scared of what you’ve become in his absence. You suppose you’re scared of what he’s become too. 

The realization hits that you could defect from your friends, family, and home. You could undo everything that you and your friends have worked towards. But nothing he can say will change the fact that he didn’t choose you.

Luke was right, then.

You did have a choice, one that he still forces you to make as you nod at Percy to flip his last drachma into the open water, opening a direct line of communication to your father to catch the thief—of both lightning and the beat of your heart, in the act.

You realize that if the gods were the least bit grateful that you’ve kept their kids alive for the past half-decade, perhaps fate would be on your side and Luke would still be yours. But life has a funny way of working itself out when Luke admits to the open air of another crime to tack onto his list.

“Kronos was right. I should’ve killed you, Percy.”

The son of Poseidon goads Luke into another duel and you survey your surroundings for a way out. Annabeth burns holes into the side of your head and it gets you thinking, moving faster than you have in days as you walk towards her and Grover. At the raise of your hand, the demigods holding onto the pair drop to the deck, incapacitated with illusions of madness they will never comprehend. The more of them that surround you drop like flies as Luke’s eyes flicker between you and the boy he has at swordpoint.

You’ve gotten stronger in his absence—you never needed to touch him to use your powers after all. Just waiting for the right moment to strike, attacking when Luke finally let his guard down for you. He cracks his neck, knowing you’ve made your choice, so he makes his. 

“Get them.” 

The monster scrambles across the deck but it approaches you first, clawing at the wood and barely missing your feet as you scream for help, defenseless without a sword and you hear Luke yell your name in alarm before a punching glove-tipped arrow sends it hurtling overboard.

Your eyes lock with his again as you disembark with the Party Ponies, you with your crew as he corrals the mess you made of his. It has to be the salt air that makes your eyes seem a little misty.

Your fates have always been tied. 

You protect your home, and he does what he can to protect you. Luke looks over your form like he’s checking if you’re okay, even from a distance— and it makes you wonder if this is how it's supposed to be. Someone leaving, and the both of you apart. 

It’s weird to be the one leaving this time, but it isn't as easy as Luke makes it seem each time he does it.

You avert your eyes once you see him put his hand in his pocket, him finding what you snuck in on the way to the deck. Luke pulls out a leather bracelet with a black camp bead, the one he missed in the year he’s been gone. He rolls the bead between his fingers, the thing you last touched before leaving him, an emblem of his archnemesis and the summer that changed everything—the consequences of his actions ripping you away from him. When he slides it on his wrist, it lightly clinks against the hilt of his sword, the lone clay bead a force of its own against Backbiter's reverberating power. He feels nostalgia for what could have been crawling through him—though Luke supposes he’s always been too vulnerable when it comes to you.

Is this what you’ve been feeling every time he walks away? 

It starts to rain after you leave. Luke watches his crew take cover from the downpour, running in all different directions to hide away from the storm that ravages the Princess Andromeda. 

But he stands still, looking up at the sky and hating it for how openly it’s able to cry. Luke is far away from home again—from you and it makes him wonder how much longer he’ll have to be away from you when being with you is what he truly wants.

The mission continues and the ship keeps pushing forward even as the rain washes over him, soaking through his armor and straight to the bone. Raindrops pelt through every crevice, though this onslaught is much kinder, more gentle, even when it’s angry. He closes his eyes and lets it touch his skin. 

For a moment, it feels like you. 

—

A hand penetrates the tide searching for yours, gripping onto your unconscious one. He’s spent hours ripping holes through time to try to find you, an advantage given to him in a dream by the Titan. The agreement, what keeps him from not running back to you is that you live—and as Luke pulls you out of the ocean waterlogged and turning blue, he wonders if it’s all a farce. 

Losing you isn’t worth the wrath of the gods if you’re lifeless in his arms like this. 

He shouts your name, pumping your chest with his fists and breathing life back into your lips until you cough out saltwater, head lolling against his knee. Luke’s fingers stroke your hair, touching you for the first time in a year. As life slowly brings the color back into your cheeks he silently thanks Hestia for keeping your flame alight. His soldiers call out to him from the deck, and he steels his resolve as he rows the lifeboat back to the ship. Still, Luke has to uphold his side of the agreement. 

He wonders if you’d stay. Even if he knows the answer, Luke wonders if you would ever change it for him.

—

And they tell me you are evil and I answer: Yes, I know. –Patricia Smith

 ½ luke taglist: @kissingyourgrl @dorcas4meadowes @lorarri @andrewgarfldsgf @noodlesketchbook @10ava01 @poppysrin @ashisabitgay @timhalamet @liv1104 @leeknows-wife @mxtokko @bugcuti3 @luvvfromme @midmourn @2hiigh2cry @yuminako @niktwazny303  @lukecastellandefender @intergalactic-padawan @iliketopgun @annybah @dangelnleif @thegrinningghost @alyssajunelle @obxstiles @m00ng4z3r @visndcaitswhore @b0ok-lover @elegant-face-tree @this-barbie-is-having-breakdowns @amortencjja @idonevenknow1359 @maliaaaa @targaryenluvs @sakyira @dhdjdjjdhsjdiri

[honestsycrets]

hi !! i love your writings so much, especially the Miguel ones (SPECIFICALLY THE ONE WHERE HE IS A DAD AHA-)

May I request a Miguel O'Hara fic/ blurb/ ( anything, really :D ) where he does the skin to skin contact with his newborn baby girl? thank you so much !! <33

❛ pairing | miguel o'hara x wifey!reader

❛ tags | fluff, family fic, post-birth scene, papa!miguel, Spanish is not translated.

❛ sy's notes | the amount of baby fics in my inbox—

Miguel never wanted to cause you pain. Less so, be responsible for it. The pain was a sacrifice that you were willing to make-- because you loved him. Pleading for a child, his little Mireya was all his idea. In your mind, it was only right that if you carried her for nine months, he would be the first to hold her. 

For all the nights of stroking your stomach and waiting in longing, he finally had what he wanted-- he finally had his little daughter. Her tiny little body was eclipsed by his massive muscle. She was impossibly small. He felt like a peasant or a beast, her small body enveloped in his bare arms. 

“Mi amor,” your exhausted voice was recognizable, but it didn’t register. Nothing did. He peeled away the paper-thin blanket from her plump lip for his first look at his little girl. His body felt impossibly warm, emotions bubbling in warm mirth and deep pride. “Can I... see her?” 

He doesn’t want to ignore you, but the little girl in his arms commands any ability he would have had to be a useful husband. He truly tried to be over the past nineteen hours of labor. Now, he’s busy being a father. 

“Miguel? Mireya should do skin-to-skin now,” the spider woman aiding your labor called. You willed her down with your hand and shook your sweat-slicked head at her. It was better to change the soiled sheets than to deal with Miguel. She nodded. 

“He needs a minute.”  For nine months, Mireya felt more like an idea than an attainable reality. Miguel did everything to make sure she was safe. Now here she was, her puffy lips petal pink. He knew her eyes would be the warmest shade of brown he’s ever seen, even with them firmly held shut. There was no doubt in his mind that she would be gorgeous. Miguel nestled her with practice in one arm, ghosting his index finger over her tiny button of a nose. After a few moments, he swayed toward the bed where you lay, body swollen and achy. You grimaced as you moved, your core red-hot. The spider woman made herself scarce, a lopsided smile on her lips.

Your fingers fluttered over the clean sheets to invite him over. Miguel complied with your wishes. He settled on the plush bed, shifting Mireya out of her warm blanket and onto his naked chest. Her small chest was against his, throwing his hand underneath your neck to urge you closer. Mireya’s soft cheek plastered against Miguel’s chest, their breaths heaving in near unison. Her peaceful rest seemed to relax something in Miguel as well, stroking her back as she slept, so impossibly small.

It was easy to be jealous of the way he looked at her— in full admiration, rapture, and pure love that you simply could not measure up to. You glanced at your little daughter, a smile pulling at your lips. For your part, you were unable to understand that this little girl, whose chest moved in time with Miguel’s, was yours too. It would come, in time, but for now, you were enamored with the delight that strikes Miguel's normally trained face.

“Mireya,” you murmured, slipping your finger against her tiny palm. Fully asleep, her tiny digits dangled over your index finger. “Your papa wants to see your eyes.” 

“Déjela,” Miguel murmured. “She’s tired.” 

“Already protecting her,” you shifted your finger away from Mireya’s hand, tracking the stubble that peppered Miguel’s jawline. “Where does that leave me?” 

Miguel clicked his teeth as your hand flicked off his chin. 

“Don’t be jealous already.” 

“Mmm,” you settled your head down, heavy eyes shifting shut. “I have to be. You’re a hard man to keep Miguelito.”

"Tch," as if giving him a child wouldn’t keep him busy. Miguel’s eyes tracked his small daughter’s soft breaths to your head that rested on his shoulder. His familia was complete, fully and wonderfully complete. As long as he didn’t get another case of baby fever, it would hopefully say that way. For now, it was just right.

“Gracias, Mami.” 

“Hm? For what?” 

“Por mi hija-- for Mireya.” 

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Sophia Loren (Marriage Italian Style, Houseboat)—Major Italian star, first actress to win an Oscar for a performance not in English (for Two Women (1960)) and later when Roberto Benigni won an Oscar in 1999 he jumped over the chairs towards the stage going "Sophia Sophia!!" because he was running towards Sophia Loren and said he cared more about her than the Oscar, that's the effect she had on people. She was big in the 60s already even though she gained a lot more notoriety after that. And I mean. Can we take a moment and just.

Pola Negri (The Wildcat, Men, A Woman Commands)—Legally obliged to submit her as she's from Poland, but also it is one of the greatest stars of silent film, both in Hollywood and Europe, so she has to be here. The og femme fatale and a fenomenal dramatic actress. And just so hot in this 1920s vamp style. Obviously her career slowed down in America with the introduction of sound movies, because of her accent and low voice. I'd say her voice is so much hotter thanks to that, but I'm just a simple simp. But then she made movies in Germany, and after the war she was even offered Gloria Swanson's role in "Sunset Boulevard'' but she declined. She was probably bisexual as after romances with Charlie Chaplin and Rudolf Valentino in the 20s, since the 1940s she lived with her 'female friend'.

This is round 4 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Sophia Loren:

She has maxed out all her stats: beauty, elegance, sensuality, she's got it all. her mesmerizing eyes, her sensual mouth, her sharp face shape, her everything is so striking and unlike any other beauty in films. she was also voted the world most beautiful woman when she was freaking 65

im submitting her in honor of my dad bc she was the first celebrity crush of his he ever admitted to me and my sister :) and he was right. shes so pretty

OSCAR WINNER. Worked with some of the hottest leading men in Hollywood but remained faithful to her husband whom she had a loving marriage with till he died (even though Cary Grant almost tempted her once, it's complicated)

One of the most well-known sex symbols of the Golden Age of Hollywood, and unlike some unfortunate others, she seems to have been pretty well at peace with occupying that status. She made assertiveness and a tempestuous temper seem glamorous, and although she's famous for side-eying Jayne Manisfield's cleavage, honestly? She's one to talk.

Absolutely, drop-dead sexy, also a hard working, extraordinarily talented actress who didn't shy away from the less glamorous roles to gift us some gritty, memorable performances

Submitting this on behalf of my dad, who knows nothing of tumblr or this blog, but I remember being a kid watching Houseboat while my mom thirsted after Cary Grant, dad thirsted after Sophia Loren, and I was excited that they lived on a boat. Anyway, she's extremely beautiful and was an international star, doing a ton of movies in Italy before being recognized in the US.

JUST LOOK AT HER Y'ALL

Very smart and beautiful, the characters that she played (I mean those in the movies that I put in the previous question) are as strong and determined as her which I think adds to her hotness.

Global superstar and my late grandfather's long time movie star crush and for a man as quiet as he was, and as hopelessly devoted to his wife as he was, the fact that I know that means she was EXCEPTIONAL.

Big in the chest, snatched in the waist, pretty in the face 😳

Sexy, beautiful, deep. A real star.

Her performance in "Man of La Mancha" is just so very captivating. Dubbed as "the Italian Marilyn Monroe", she looks beautiful in any movie and at any age.

Forget the exotic sexpot of her Hollywood films and go back to her Italian career: sparking with Marcello Mastroianni as the woman who drives him mad and outwits all his fumbling attempts at macho posturing in their early films, and showing a tender side in their 1970s films. Sophia isn’t self-conscious about who she is or her beautiful body: she enjoys being herself and she wants us all to enjoy ourselves too.

She starred in films as a sexually emancipated persona and was one of the best known sex symbols of the time. She is a great cook and her filmography is immense.

On the misattributed quote that Sophia owed everything to spaghetti: 'Did you actually say the quote frequently attributed to you, "Everything you see I owe to spaghetti"?' "Non è vero! It's not true! It's such a silly thing. I owe it to spaghetti, no, no. Completely made up."

Pola Negri:

A tempestuous green-eyed vamp of the silent screen, she tantalized with both her onscreen and offscreen romances. Rocked a Polish accent - well, once there was sound! A true proficient at promoting herself and using all possible tools to do so - from a dead Rudolf Valentino to a cheetah named Teddy, the latter of which she brought to a press conference.

First European actress to be contracted by Hollywood! She survived poverty and illness to become The Queen of Tragedy, she divorced a count to date stars like Charlie Chaplin and Rudolph Valentino, then spent the rest of her life living with Margaret West in what could have been a romantic relationship.

I don't have much to say about her actual career, personal life, etc. but I just need everyone to see how hauntingly beautiful her face is. I haven't been able to stop thinking about her since the first time I saw her LOL like its pretty clear why she was such a star

[icedragonlizard]

I might get torn apart for posting this, but imo it must be said.

To make it crystal clear, I don't excuse Susie's actions in Planet Robobot. But I don't excuse Taranza's actions in Triple Deluxe either.

I think people in the Kirby fandom infantilize Taranza way too much.

I am not joking when I say that I've seen people go as far as to say that he was "never a villain in the first place". That he's "innocent".

I'm sorry, but that's just flat out wrong. He was objectively the villain during Triple Deluxe. "He was just following orders!" is not proof of innocence when he was following the orders of a dictator. Taranza was a dictator-enabler. A dictator's right-hand man. That's not innocent. He lowkey kidnapped people in the name of this dictator.

Who knows what he could've done off-screen during the game while dragging Dedede around with him... probably could've tormented a lot of unshown Floralians while Kirby was trying to stop the takeover.

I also believe that Taranza loved playing the villain. He looks incredibly smug while dragging Dedede around and provoking bosses into fighting Kirby. Not to mention the very things that he says in his monologue right before he uses Dedede like a puppet to fight Kirby.

.... So much for the claims of "never a villain in the first place".

I very much believe he's reformed (Susie too, tbh) but I wish people would stop totally erasing his actions and pretending he did no bad.

This is not meant to demonize Taranza in any way. It's just... I absolutely hate that people treat him like a poor little innocent baby while simultaneously treating Susie like an irredeemable, unforgivable monster. They committed very similar crimes, but somehow get treated like they're opposite ends of the spectrum morality-wise.

Now, when comparing them, Susie is indeed the worse of the two overall, because her actions were done on multiple planets vs. one country. But that doesn't change the fact that it's still hypocritical to treat one of them like they're innocent while demonizing the other.

Regardless of the different scales of their crimes, they're both ultimately just second-in-commands to corrupt higher-ups that then helped give Kirby something to fight the final boss when it mattered.

I like to think that Taranza and Susie are both rather morally grey people with good and bad qualities. To me, they're friends with Kirby now, but they still have flaws despite not being as bad as they were before. I'd put Magolor on the same boat alongside with them too.

Taranza can both have grief and still have flaws. And I think Susie 100% has had grief for her dad too, even if she's less open about it.

One of the reasons why Susie discourse is so aggravating is because people simultaneously downplay and infantilize other villains, especially Taranza. People are hypocrites. I bet people wouldn't give a crap if Taranza or Magolor were to turn Meta Knight into a robot.

I get why the colonization and capitalism themes for both Susie and Planet Robobot as a whole can strike a nerve to some people and elicit discomfort, but I don't really think that warrants a massive and unfair discrepancy to how she gets treated compared to the others.

While I can get why those themes can make some people not like her as much as others, I don't think it makes it fair to treat her like an unforgivable demon because her villainy happens to be more real.

Just because the others are less real doesn't mean they're innocent.

The double standards suck.

[deliciousangelfestival]

The Lady - 2

Character: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader, Eddie Horniman x Female Reader

Summary: After fifteen years away, a step-daughter returns for her Duke step-father's funeral, only to inherit a staggering 8 million pound debt and strike a risky deal with a criminal underworld figure.

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Chap 1, Chap 2, Chap 3 , Chap 4 , Chap 5 , Chap 6 , Chap 7.

Your ongoing support means the world to me! Reblogs are a fantastic way to help spread the word about my work. I'll do my best to reply to all your comments. Thank you for your continued encouragement!

Bucky leaned back in his chair, studying her reaction keenly. "I understand your concerns," he said, his tone surprisingly understanding. "But trust me, this is a business matter. We're not in the business of hurting innocent people."

"If someone died, I'd probably get deported," Bucky added casually, his tone belying the seriousness of his words.

"You're American too?" you blurted out, your voice tinged with disbelief. It was only now, under the stress of the moment, that you noticed Bucky's lack of a British accent.

"Yup. Just like you. So we have something in common," Bucky replied, his smile masking the underlying tension between you.

Leaning back in your chair, you feigned deep contemplation, buying yourself time to process the weight of Bucky's request. "After thinking thoroughly, it's not gonna happen," you finally declared, your words a thinly veiled refusal.

Bucky's easygoing demeanor vanished instantly, replaced by a steely resolve that sent shivers down your spine. Drawing closer, he rested both arms on Rupert's study table, his gaze piercing you unwaveringly.

"Your Grace, because of my friendship with Rupert, I'm giving you this last chance," Bucky declared, his voice low and commanding.

With a swift motion, he produced a business card from his suit pocket and slid it across the table towards you. "I'll be waiting for your call."

As he retreated, you couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding creeping over you. The stakes had never been higher, and you knew that the choices you made in the coming days would shape the course of your future in ways you couldn't yet comprehend.

The weight of the situation pressed down on you like a suffocating blanket as you surveyed the room, your eyes landing on the familiar photos adorning the walls.

Among them, a small picture frame caught your attention, capturing a moment frozen in time: you and Rupert, smiling at a polo game.

Your voice faltered as you addressed the silent figure in the photograph. "Why did you choose me?" you whispered, the weight of the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. "Dad."

Feeling lost and overwhelmed, you pondered your next move. Should you confront your mother, who seemed to have kept secrets hidden all along?

Or seek answers from the twins, who had already distanced themselves from the burden?

After careful consideration, you decided to turn to your childhood friend, Eddie, for guidance. With a sense of determination, you grabbed the car keys and set off for Halstead estate, hoping that Eddie might offer some much-needed clarity in this sea of uncertainty.

As you stepped onto the familiar grounds of Halstead estate, memories of summers past flooded your mind. Despite the initial awkwardness of being left behind by your mother, the warmth of Eddie's family soon enveloped you in a sense of belonging.

The memories of summers spent here flooded back. Your mother left you behind, as the twins didn't want you to join the holiday. So, your mom left you here since Eddie's manor was closer to you.

Initially awkward, but it became enjoyable with Freddie always cracking jokes and Eddie, the adventurous one.

Reminiscing about fishing trips, horseback riding, and clay shooting, you couldn't help but smile at the fond memories made in this idyllic setting.

Suddenly, a familiar voice broke through your reverie, and you turned to see Freddie, Eddie's brother, approaching with open arms. Despite the passage of time, Freddie seemed unchanged, his jovial spirit shining through.

"Y/N! Come here. Give me a hug."

You embraced him. It had been 15 years, and he seemed different, almost radiant.

Freddie said, "I'm sorry about Rupert. I lost my dad last year too."

You replied, "I'm sorry too."

"So, it's obvious you're not here for me. You want to see Eddie?" Freddie asked.

"I am," you confirmed.

"He just finished a conversation with a guest. Let me take you there," Freddie offered, leading the way.

When you walked into the study room, you heard an elegant female voice saying, "I'll give the info later."

As she walked out, you noticed her stylish demeanor and sensed a mysterious aura around her. There was a hint of leadership in her presence, but what struck you as odd was the faint smell of weed lingering in the air.

She smiled at you before departing.

"I didn't expect you to come here so soon," Eddie remarked with a smile as you turned to face him. Seated in a leather chair, he exuded the air of a true duke.

"I didn't know where else I could go," you replied.

Freddie cleared his throat. "I'll leave you two alone."

Eddie offered you a seat and poured a drink, which you gratefully accepted.

"I heard you got the title. Congrats," Eddie said, raising his glass in a toast.

You chuckled softly. "The title is useless when all I've got is debt."

Eddie fell silent for a moment. "I went through a similar situation myself. What kind of problem are you having right now?"

"Do you know Bucky Barnes?" you asked.

Eddie clicked his tongue in response.

Crossing your arms, you continued, "So you know him. That means you knew about my stepdad's weed business."

Eddie leaned back in his chair, thoughtfully swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "Rupert got into the business earlier than me," he began, his tone reflecting a mix of resignation and regret. "The woman you saw before is Susie Glass."

"He had a business with her," Eddie continued, his voice tinged with disapproval.

You clenched your jaw, the realization sinking in.

"I didn't know much about the details, but your father was on the list that worked with the Glass," Eddie explained, his expression troubled.

"He wanted out," you interjected, your voice firm with determination.

Eddie nodded grimly. "And that's where Barnes came in. He's a syndicate, setting up a branch in the UK from New York. His business was unique and deadly."

The dimly lit study seemed to take on a more sinister atmosphere as Eddie spoke, shadows dancing across the walls like flickering flames. The air was tense, each word carrying the weight of unspoken truths and hidden dangers.

"Rupert owes Barnes 8 million pounds," you stated, the gravity of the situation sinking in.

Eddie hesitated for a moment before responding, his expression thoughtful. "That's..."

"I know, it's insane," you interjected, your voice tinged with frustration.

Eddie met your gaze, his eyes reflecting a mix of sympathy and determination. "I could pay off your debt," he offered quietly.

You recoiled slightly, taken aback by his proposal. "Then what? I'll still in debt. It never ends," you countered, a note of bitterness creeping into your voice.

You sighed, the weight of Rupert's decision heavy on your shoulders. "Why did Rupert choose me?"

Eddie nodded in understanding, his expression reflective. "I asked the same thing when my dad chose me instead of Freddie."

Your brow furrowed in confusion as you looked at him, prompting Eddie to chuckle softly. "Problem solver," he explained simply.

You nodded slowly, considering Eddie's words. "Both of us did join the military. Is it because we went through difficult situations?"

Eddie leaned forward, his gaze unwavering as he locked eyes with you. "Probably," he agreed, a reassuring smile playing on his lips. "But I'm sure you could handle it. If not, I'll be here to help you."

A warmth spread through you at his words, and you felt a slight blush creeping up your cheeks. "Thank you," you murmured gratefully, appreciating his caring demeanor.

You nodded firmly. "I've got all I need. I'll go now," you declared, trying to maintain composure as you turned to leave.

Eddie nodded in response. "Sure. I'll see you next time," he replied, his tone gentle and understanding.

As you walked away, you couldn't help but feel a swirl of emotions inside, like a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts and feelings. You tried to keep a cool facade, but deep down, your heart was racing.

Meanwhile, Eddie watched you go, a flicker of concern crossing his features. Then, a voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Did she notice?" someone asked quietly.

Eddie glanced over, meeting the gaze of the speaker. "Not yet," he responded softly, his expression thoughtful as he contemplated the situation.

You drove for what felt like an eternity until you finally arrived back at your own manor. As you stepped inside, you noticed Hugo playing in the living room with Susan. Ignoring your mother, your focus was solely on your little step-brother.

You were just ten years old when you first met Rupert, and he had quickly become the best father figure you'd ever known. During the eight years you spent here, you learned to appreciate Rupert's love for his legacy and the history of the manor.

Sighing heavily, you knew you were about to make a risky decision.

Heading to Rupert's study again, you picked up Bucky's business card and dialed the number. After just two rings, his voice filled your ears. "I've been waiting for your call, Your Grace," he said smoothly.

Rolling your eyes at his confidence, you replied, "Just one job and you clear the debt?"

Bucky chuckled, his tone dripping with assurance. "It would be a big explosion. They'll think it's a terrorist attack. But no, Your Grace. Five small explosions, and we're done."

Bucky's voice crackled through the line, his tone both humorous and tinged with an unmistakable edge. "Think of it as fireworks, Your Grace. Except instead of pretty colors, we'll be making a statement."

You couldn't help but let out a nervous laugh, the gravity of the situation juxtaposed with Bucky's nonchalant demeanor. "And what kind of statement would that be?" you asked, trying to match his casual tone.

"The kind that says, 'Don't mess with us,'" Bucky replied, his voice dripping with a dangerous charm. "We'll leave 'em scratching their heads and scrambling for cover."

Despite the seriousness of the conversation, you couldn't deny the thrill of adrenaline coursing through your veins. "And you're sure this will work?" you inquired, a hint of skepticism creeping into your voice.

Bucky's confidence was unwavering. "Trust me, Your Grace. When it comes to making a scene, I'm the best in the business."

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Author Note: Hey friends,

If you've been enjoying the content, I've set up a Ko-fi account.

Your support through tips would mean the world and help me keep creating.

Only if you feel like it!

Here's the link: Ko-fi

Thanks a bunch for being fabulous followers!

[bcacstuff]

Day 3 Highlanders 7 con 21 July 2024 at the Hilton Metropole Hotel, Birmingham

Charles Q&A

They only let him do some stunts. The apple "may have" already been cut in half 😅

At his first OL audition (over zoom from his bedroom), he did a Peaky Blinders accent because thought the English all have the same accent - he works hard on it, accents don't come naturally to him

William inherited the "good Fraser fire" from Jamie but learned how to be reserved (a "board") from LJG so he often feels the conflict within himself what he is vs what he was "trained" to be

One of the auditions (all on zoom) was the Death Song scene with JB - it was weird for him to see these "fictional characters" in real life. Couldn't mention the other audition scenes because they're 7B spoilers

He had phantom pain in his arm from the stick. They sent him to London to have a mold made of his arm

He has no piano in his flat but would go to the Edinburgh train station and use the public piano

Dream role: anything - "I love employment" but likes characters that exist between good and evil

Superstitions: not for acting but the supernatural - hasn't used a Ouija board because he doesn't know if they work but what if they do??

William is "a bit of a shit" and a "brat" when we first meet him in 7A

They did audition someone else for William for S6 (those episodes would have been late in 6) but he would have been too young. Since they shortened 6, they didn't cast William until later.

Someone asked whether he was intimidated by S&C. The audience member then went on telling a story how Caitlin before she got to set, was told S&C were a "power couple" and together in real life. Then when she got there she was told opposite (you could hear people gasp when she said that)

While Charles really didn't answered above, he later on was asked what his favourite movie is, he didn't really have one but said he really loved Ford vs Ferrari, so when he met Caitriona he thought "Whoa"

Mom had watched the show but he binged it in 2 weeks when he got the audition - didn't have the part yet

Felt imposter syndrome and a lot of pressure - do I want to take on being Jamie Fraser's son?

Ultimately LJG is William's dad but important for him to find out who is he to learn about himself

This convention is "so fun" because they couldn't answer any questions during the strike and all they were asked were things like "what's your favourite colour"

Scenes that stuck out when he binged: Claire and BJR in Garrison Commander; the shinty scene

Doesn't have a go-to karaoke song - has never done karaoke. But he would do something like Tequila so all he has to say is 1 word (then they played it when he was leaving the stage)

Sophie, Richard & David

Sophie is apparently a favourite "on the internet" to play Harry Potter's mom in the HBO series. She says "I'm working on it" (ie she'd like to do it).

Their favourite locations to film - Sophie Lallybroch (inside and what they created on set); Richard - University of Glasgow; David - Hopetoun House

David making fun of the questions they always get asked (what would you take from set; what other characters would you like to play) - everyone laughs

If they could play another character, Sophie would play Rollo

Certain scene they were really proud of - Sophie birthing scene "broke some blood vessels"; David never thinks he does well - could have done it differently especially the scene where Jamie offers his body;

What cocktail would your character be: Sophie - Spicy margarita; Richard - Old Fashioned; David Pina Colada because he likes the song (doesn't know any cocktails - people were shouting them out to him)

What would you like to learn how to do: David - Magic the Gathering - watched them play last night and wants them to teach him before wrap; Richard is learning to fly

Which time period do you prefer - Brianna 50/50 - Sophie 1700s "corsets aside" especially since they're all filming together. Richard agrees. David: Lord John in modern times is living in the West Village in NYC running an art gallery called Fraser's 🤣🤣

Karaoke songs: Richard's - Piano Man; David - To be With You (Mr Big): Sophie - Party in the USA

Favourite costume - Richard "from this year" but didn't say which one (didn't want to spoil anything); David - Governor of Jamaica (Sophie says you've had some really good costumes and David said you just realized that???)

Favourite scene to film: Richard - driving around the Highlands (felt like our own little "side Outlander"); Sophie - when she confronts Bonnett in the jail (felt very empowered); David - first day, first scene he filmed dragging Sam on the horse "was a highlight on reflection"

Everyone is treated the same by production

Sophie used to be the makeup trailer DJ but Wendy has taken over

The first scene with Roger & Jamie was fun to shoot but he felt Jamie had "a bit of an overreaction"

What are you obsessed with? Richard - Magic the Gathering; David - his son; Sophie - music

Any scenes that you were intimidated by: David one coming up in 7B (we should all know what it is); Richard - intimate scenes; Sophie - ones that are emotionally challenging and you "take with you"

Question about what you're proud of. Sophie tells the story of when she potty-trained her dog. The dog became so excited he jumped on her, split her lip and she ended up in the emergency room. David then says "do you know what proud means??" • Richard - passing his driving test because he failed 3x; David - when he finished his first block of OL

Character you haven't worked with you would like to - Richard & David said each other. Richard: maybe in the next block then Sophie says "but you're in the 80s", someone mentioned Jemmy and the stones and it just went downhill from there 😅; Sophie - Black Jack

During closing ceremonies everyone is taking photos and Cree (of course) says "go on take your photos like we're animals in a zoo". Then he says something about a "gaggle of lusty women" and Sean says "there is if your name is Sam Heughan"

Sean had organized other fan events then started watching Outlander. He wanted to do an event and learned the person to contact is Steve Himber as he "represents" Sam and Caitriona to get it started. Then Steve says he's "not responsible for Steven Cree"

All credits including pics to my friend at the con (who wishes to remain anonymous) Thank you so much for keeping notes for us (and for me to post!) Great Job, well done! 🧡🧡🧡

[theyapper0]

FIRST PART OF "DISHONORED GUESTS"

(A "Welcome to Heaven" rewrite for my Hazbin reimagining)

(Before I get into it, I gotta give some context...

The "Dad Beat Dad" episode didn't happen (bc I don't want Lucifer at ALL in season 1 so there is a better build up to his character. I think he came WAY TOO SOON in canon LOL) 

Charlie doesn't ask Lucifer for the favor to get a meeting to Heaven, instead Alastor encouraged her to contact Adam and DEMAND a meeting as the Heir of Hell) 

(There are also 5 parts to this btw 😋)

____________________

The episode starts w/ a flashback. It's all blurry and all the viewer sees is blurry flashes of colors. 

You can hear Vaggie's voice, she sounds slightly younger. She's shouting out military commands. 

Then you hear another voice, it's the same voice that you heard from the first Episode, the Exorcist Angel that accompanied Adam during Charlie's meeting w/ him (Lute) 

A hand is placed on Silhouette!Vaggie’s shoulder, she's looking up at her, “Easy, soldier”

Lute then tells the rest of the division to “Try not to take the kid to seriously, she still cries about imps under her bed”

There's laughter from a group of Exorcists

Vaggie: UGH!! LUTE!! THEY SAID I COULD LEAD THIS TIME! YOU'RE RUINING IT!!!

Lute laughs, “Okay okay, I'll be quiet. You're doin’ great so far, V. Keep it up”

The dream ends abruptly. Vaggie is woken up to Charlie, who's buzzing around their bedroom. TODAY IS THE DAY THEY GO TO HEAVEN!!!!!!! AAAAHHH!!!! 

Vaggie goes to grab her spear but Charlie puts her hands over hers, “Maybe… don't bring it?”

Vaggie tries to protest, "What if it goes south?”

Charlie: I know but… I wanna make a good impression on Heaven. ‘show them we're not just violent beasts who don't trust anyone

Vaggie hums… 

Charlie: Come on, Vaggie! Nothing bad’s gonna happen! It's Heaven! ^^

Vaggie sighs and lets go of her spear, “Yeah… That's exactly what I'm worried about…”

Her spear is dull anyway, her blade sharpener broke the other day and they haven't had the time (or the money) to get a new one….

Angel, Husk, and Niffty still go to the club with Cherri Bomb

So Charlie and Vaggie go through the portal to Heaven and they walk go the gates of Heaven. 

I'll put the rest under the cut since this is LOOOOOONG

St. Peter isn't there at the gates, Emily is though. She's been waiting for their arrival!!! 

Emily introduces herself as Emily Eveningale!!!! and explains to them her job, making the people of Heaven happy. And then she's like “IT'S SO GREAT TO MEET YOU!!!!!!!🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩”

She explains that the Trial will be starting the moment the clock strikes midnight and that she'll be putting a magic timer on them to ensure they don't forget! 

Charlie's like, “MAGIC TIMER!!!??? SWEET!!!”

But then Vaggie then steps forward and is like, “Yeah, you can just put it on me, we won't be straying too far from each other anyway”

Emily: Ok! 

Emily graces the magic timer on upon Vaggie's wrist. Picture like an animal branding thing. 

Vaggie winces as it's put on.

Emily is like “Yeah, I’m really sorry if the stamp hurt! The trial will be starting at midnight!”

So they’ve got basically the whole day to waste LOL

The Heavenly Gates open and Emily brings them inside, she’s taking them to the Head Seraphim, Sera Eveningale.

So the three are walking through Heaven. Charlie and Emily are yappin’ and yappin’, getting along GREAT!! They meet each other’s energy super well and are basically like two hyperactive puppies at a dog park LMAO!

Charlie and Emily talking 

Vaggie is sota hanging back…. She looks on edge and keeps looking around.

Adam is walking with Saint Peter, they're talking and just having a grand ol’ time. Lute is trailing behind them. (she's still like Adam's bodyguard when she isn't training the Exorcists)

Lute spots them walking past with Emily. She sees stupid shitty fucking Charlotte and…. VAGGIE….. 

Adam looks too, but only focuses on Charlie and Emily. He heard Emily say something like “So what’s Hell like??? :O”!!

He’s not gonna like that.

They get to the Heavenly cathedral (it looks like the one in Hell (where Charlie had her meeting with Adam), just less run down and ugly). It's beautiful!!! 

Sera greets them with as much hospitality as she could muster 

They all talk for a while :) 

“A very interesting belief, the redemption of a Sinner…. And an even more interesting method of doing so with your hotel”

Charlie was gonna go into detail about it but Sera cuts her off and is like “Ah, we can save it for court” 

Sera repeats that the trial starts at midnight. “

“We'll show you to your chambers for the time being” 

So Sera and Emily are leading Charlie and Vaggie to their chambers.

While they're walking there, Emily speaks quietly to Sera… “Can't we give them something…. Nicer?” 

Sera just looks at her and doesn't say anything.

(Keep in mind the title of this episode)

So they get to the chambers and…..

Yeah, it's basically the dungeon in the basement. 

It’s dingy, dark and cold. They don't complain too much bc they're used to stuff like this in Hell but COME ON!!! They just saw a whole bunch of beauty in Heaven, they really couldn't have a nicer room!

Emily is like er… sorry, I wish I could give you a better place to stay. Charlie's like no worries? It's fine! ^^ 

Emily says they don't need to stay here until the trial, I could show you around!!! 

Charlie's like !!! Really!!!!

Emily is like yeah!!! 

Sera: Emily…

Emily: What? Oh come on, Sera!! It's fine! Nothing bad’ll happen! 

Sera is like “ok fine but,” She snaps her fingers and these white cuffs appear on Charlie

Vaggie is like HEY!! GET THAT SHIT OFF HER! 

Sera tells her to relax and is like “dw, it's just Heavenly cuffs. It disables Miss Morningstar’s satanic powers for as long as she has them on” 

Charlie is like “oh nonono I'm not gonna do anything, I swear”

Sera is like I'm sorry but you can never be too careful 

Sera leaves like “see u in court”

Emily hums, slightly annoyed but quickly hides it and smiles again. 

Emily asks Charlie if she's ever been to an aquarium and Charlie is like NO!!!!! Is it really as blue as I've heard?? And Emily is like the BLUEST!!!! 

Emily flies out like “race you outside!!!!” 

Charlie goes to run out but realizes that Vaggie hasn't moved, she's like “U coming, Vags?” 

Vaggie shakes her head and is like “nah, I don't think I wanna see Heaven…”

Charlie laughs, “What? Scared you'll love it and actually give redemption a shot?”

Vaggie smiles and they come closer to each other, she cups her face, “You know I'd never leave you”

Charlie smiles at her and holds her wrists. Vaggie looks down at the cuffs on Charlie and frowns

Charlie: You're worrying, Vaggie. Everything's gonna be okay, I know it

Vaggie hums, “Just be careful, okay?” 

Charlie nods, “Of course”

They kiss.

Charlie: So you're SURE you don't wanna come? I mean, I can stay here with you”

Vaggie looks at her, “Babe, we both know you wanna go see that aquarium, you're literally tap dancing in your spot right now. 

Vaggie: Go. I'd rather stay here :)

Charlie says that she'll bring her back something, from what she saw, the food in Heaven looks DELICIOUS!!! 

PART 1

PART 2

PART 3

PART 4

PART 5

[christinesficrecs]

These are also very classic but I feel like they're a little more well known. If you managed to miss it, Bones Straining is THE fic to read, followed closely by Reach Out. Also, forgot about this ficlet if you're up for a tiny bit of angst.

The Time Traveler’s Prerogative | 9.2K | Explicit

After the events of “117”, Derek doesn’t magically transform back into his twenty-five-year-old body. Instead, he’s stuck as a sixteen-year-old for an unknown amount of time. So the pack has to learn to deal with it.

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In Which Stiles Falls in Love Twice…With the Same Person

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Stiles was the first one. He doesn’t know how it started, what’s wrong with the house to make it like this, but he knows that he’s the first of them. The next one was Boyd, then Lydia, then Erica, and lastly, Isaac. It seems a habit, anyone who ever moves into the house leaves someone behind. But no one’s lived in the house for the last ten years.

Until Derek Hale.

See Me In Hindsight by weathervaanes, wishingonalightningbolt | 19.6K | Explicit

Stiles is 18 when he finds out exactly what’s going on in Beacon Hills. He has a few months left before he goes off to college, has a while to help Scott become the best werewolf he can be - and also to get into Derek Hale’s pants. And his heart.

Bones Straining Under the Weight  | 15.6K | Explicit

One of Stiles’ favorite things about life is Derek Hale’s food blog. He never expects to meet the man in person.

JEALOUS ORCHARD, THE SKY IS FALLING  | 5.8K

Stiles is away at UCLA for school. It may only be a few hours from Beacon Hills, but Derek still only visits every once in while. Suddenly, every time Derek even talks to Stiles, the boy just can’t help but bring up his new college BFF, Tara. When Derek visits, jealousy strikes. And make up sex ensues.

Can’t Be Saved (Not So Frail)  | 16.3K | Explicit

In which Kira is Derek’s ward, Stiles is Scott’s brother, and omega heat cycles are good for everyone.

This Kind of Luxe by horchatita394, weathervaanes, wishingonalightningbolt | 15.1K | Explicit

As they have for almost every US President since the 1910s, the Prime Minister and the royal head of their country pay a visit to the United States after inauguration. Which is why, when President Jonathan Stilinski is elected into office, Queen Talia Hale of Norland plans their trip.

For Love is Not Ours to Command | 18.5K | Explicit

Where Derek's skills at thinking on his feet mean that he and Stiles have to act. For the sake of Stiles' dad, of course, for the sake of the pack. No personal interest interference at all, whatsoever. Right.

Like Heaven Catching Lighting | 41.5K | Explicit

Prince Stiles of Cor has always known, somewhere in the back of his mind, that he was never truly going to marry for love. Fighting it has only made it worse. Now, presented with a choice between two children of the Hale family of Ignis, Derek and Cora, he must make the decision to determine who will rule by his side. If only it were that simple.

Sweet Dreams 'til Sunbeams Find You | 9.2K | Mature

But that’s when it happens. Stiles is on a down stroke when Derek opens his mouth against Stiles’ neck and says, “What do you think about having kids?”

Whispers in the Dark | 6.9K | Explicit

Stiles Stilinski would call himself a starving artist except for the simple facts that he is neither starving, nor does he know anything about art (unless you consider a novelist an artist, which Stiles only does sometimes). So when his best friend insists he accompany him to a show in the city, Stiles thinks it will probably be the most boring evening of his life.

Enter Derek.

[lvoryingrid]

Embers of Sorrow Chapter 1

Hawks x fem! TodorokiReader

Synopsis: Years after her family's trauma, lawyer (Y/n) Todoroki visits her ailing mother with Fuyumi. On her way home, she is attacked by a villain but is saved by Hawks, the No. 2 hero.

Years had passed since that fateful evening, and (Y/n) Todoroki had carved out a life for herself that was distinctly separate from the oppressive shadows of her family's tumultuous past. Now a formidable lawyer dedicated to putting villains behind bars, she had vowed never to follow in her father's footsteps, choosing instead to pursue justice through the law. Her fiery red hair, now a striking cascade of waves, blazed like a beacon, drawing the eye and commanding attention wherever she went. Her turquoise eyes, once innocent and wide, had hardened into mirrors of steely resolve, each glance reflecting a spirit that had been tempered by years of struggle and unwavering determination.

Though she had distanced herself from her father and his overbearing presence, (Y/n) had remained deeply connected with Fuyumi and Natsuo. The three siblings had woven an unbreakable bond from the threads of their shared pain, each thread a testament to their resilience and their collective desire to forge a brighter, kinder future. Together, they had become each other's sanctuary, a living proof that even in the darkest of times, family could be a source of strength and hope.

However, her relationship with Shoto was a different story. Strained and brittle, it bore the scars of their father's relentless and unforgiving training regime, a regime that had left little room for the nurturing of familial bonds. While she admired Shoto's strength and resolve, the emotional distance between them was a chasm she longed to bridge. Each interaction was tinged with the unspoken weight of their shared history, and despite her efforts, the ghost of their father's influence still loomed large, casting a shadow over their attempts to reconnect.

One brisk autumn afternoon, (Y/n) sat in her office, the golden hues of the setting sun casting a warm glow through the window. She was deep in thought, her brows furrowed in concentration as she reviewed a particularly challenging case file. It was about a civilian who had accidentally activated his quirk, resulting in injuries to several bystanders. His claim of not being able to control it seemed genuine, yet the incident's severity demanded careful scrutiny.

Her phone buzzed, breaking the intense silence of the room. She glanced at the screen and saw Fuyumi's name flashing. A small smile tugged at her lips despite the gravity of her work. She picked up the phone, and before Fuyumi even spoke, she could sense the soft, comforting tone in her sister's voice.

"Hey, Fuyumi," (Y/n) greeted, her voice tinged with warmth and a hint of relief.

“(Y/n), how are you doing?” Fuyumi began, her tone genuine and carrying a hint of happiness at the chance to talk to her older sister.

"I'm good. How are you?" (Y/n) replied, slowly putting down the case papers she had been engrossed in. She turned to gaze out the window, her eyes tracing the familiar skyline of the city.

“I just left work and I'm heading to the hospital to see Mom. Do you want to come with me?”

(Y/n) felt a pang of anxiety twist in her chest. Visits to their mother were always fraught with complex emotions. While Fuyumi and Natsuo seemed to find solace in these visits, (Y/n) harbored conflicted feelings. Touya's words echoed in her mind: "Our family is broken. Dad's a monster, and Mom... she's just as responsible for our fate as he is. We were deemed failures from the start." Yet, there was something in Fuyumi’s voice today that felt different, almost hopeful.

“I’ll be there,” she said firmly, pushing aside her doubts.

“Great,” Fuyumi replied, a note of relief in her voice. “I’ll meet you in the lobby.”

As the call ended, (Y/n) leaned back in her chair, her eyes drifting back to the city skyline. The sun was setting, casting a golden hue over the buildings and painting the sky in vibrant shades of orange and pink. It reminded her of the countless sunsets she had watched with her siblings, each one a fleeting moment of peace amidst their turbulent lives. They had dreamed of a future where they could escape their father's crushing expectations and their mother's overwhelming despair.

With a deep breath, (Y/n) stood up, feeling the weight of those dreams and the hope that maybe, just maybe, this visit could be different.

(Y/n) walked through the hospital’s sliding doors, immediately enveloped by the sterile scent of antiseptics and the rhythmic sounds of footsteps and distant conversations. She spotted Fuyumi standing near the lobby's large windows, her expression transforming from weary vigilance to jolly relief as she saw (Y/n) approach.

“Hey,” (Y/n) greeted her softly, pulling her sister into a tight, comforting embrace. “How’s she doing?”

Fuyumi’s face brightened, her grey eyes sparkling with a mixture of hope and lingering apprehension. “The doctors say she’s having a good day,” she replied, her voice a soothing balm to (Y/n)'s frayed nerves. “She’s been more and more relaxed.”

(Y/n)’s heart clenched at the news, a tumultuous swirl of emotions threatening to overwhelm her. She took a deep breath, striving to steady herself. “That’s wonderful to hear,” she said, her voice steady but her eyes betraying the storm within. “Let’s go see her.”

Together, the sisters walked down the familiar corridors, their footsteps echoing softly against the polished floors. Each step was a journey through the labyrinth of their shared history, filled with memories and unspoken fears, but also with an unyielding bond of love and resilience.

Rei Todoroki lay in the bed, her once vibrant eyes now dulled by years of pain and medication. The sterile white room, with its muted colors and the beeping of medical equipment, seemed to amplify the contrast between her past vitality and her present frailty. Yet, as her gaze fell upon her daughters, a flicker of recognition and warmth ignited within her eyes.

“Mom,” (Y/n) said softly, approaching the bedside with a mixture of trepidation and hope. “We’re here.”

Rei’s eyes welled with tears, the delicate shimmer betraying the flood of emotions she had long kept at bay. Her hand, though trembling with age and weariness, reached out to grasp (Y/n)’s with a tenderness that spoke of deep, unspoken regret and longing. “My girls,” she whispered, her voice a raspy echo of what it once was. “I’m so glad you came.”

Fuyumi, with her own heart a mosaic of sorrow and solace, pulled a chair close and settled beside their mother. Her expression was a portrait of quiet resolve and tender affection. “Mom, how are you feeling today?” she asked, her voice soothing and filled with genuine concern.

Rei’s frail lips curved into a smile, a gesture that seemed to light up the room despite her physical frailty. “I’m great now that you’re both here,” she said softly, her voice carrying a depth of emotion that transcended her physical state. She held both their hands, her touch a fragile bridge connecting the past and the present, the hurt and the healing.

As the three of them settled into the quiet of the hospital room, the warmth of their reunion began to soften the edges of their unspoken tensions. Fuyumi, always the gentle mediator, took the lead in filling the room with a sense of comfort and normalcy. She chatted with their mother about her work and recent experiences as a school teacher, her voice a soothing thread in the delicate fabric of their conversation.

Rei’s eyes softened as she listened, a smile tugging at her lips. “That sounds wonderful, Fuyumi. I’m so proud of you,” she said, her voice filled with a warmth that seemed to defy her frail state. “You’ve always had such a big heart.”

Fuyumi’s smile widened, and she looked over at (Y/n) with a glimmer of mischief. “And what about you, (Y/n)? How’s the legal world treating you?”

(Y/n) nodded, her own smile touched with a hint of pride. “It’s challenging, but rewarding,” she replied, her voice steady and composed.

Rei’s eyes, though dimmed by the years, lit up with genuine interest. “You’ve always been so driven, (Y/n). It sounds like you’re making a real impact.”

As the conversation continued, (Y/n) observed the interactions between her mother and sister with a sense of detachment. Despite the outward calm she maintained, a storm of emotions brewed beneath her composed exterior. She had never felt particularly close to her parents, and her relationship with them remained strained by the weight of their past. The scars of her upbringing lingered, and while she wore a facade of serenity, it masked the turmoil she felt inside.

(Y/n) turned her gaze to the window, watching the last rays of sunlight dance across the city skyline. She thought about the countless times she had tried to bridge the gaps within her family, only to find herself on the fringes of their emotional landscape. The distance between them was not just physical but emotional, forged in the fires of their shared history and the painful legacies of their upbringing.

Rei’s gaze shifted from Fuyumi to (Y/n) with a soft, inquisitive look. Despite her frail state, there was a genuine curiosity in her eyes. “So, my dears,” she began, her voice tender, “how are your brothers doing? I haven’t heard much from them lately.”

Fuyumi’s face brightened with a playful glimmer in her eyes. She leaned in slightly, lowering her voice with a conspiratorial tone. “Well, Mom, Natsuo has been quite busy lately. In fact, I think he might have a girlfriend.”

(Y/n)’s eyes widened with mock surprise, and she let out a soft, amused giggle. “Really now? That’s news to me!" Fuyumi chuckled, a mischievous sparkle dancing in her eyes. “He’s definitely been spending a lot of time away from home. You know how secretive he is about those things"

(Y/n) laughed softly, her earlier tension easing with the light-hearted exchange. “Ah, Natsuo. He’s always been so serious about his studies, so it’s nice to hear he’s got a bit of romance in his life. I remember how he used to turn red whenever I’d tease him about his crushes."

Rei’s eyes twinkled with amusement, and she managed a weak but genuine smile. “It sounds like he’s growing up and finding his own way. I’m glad to hear he’s happy. And what about Shoto? How is he?”

The mention of Shoto brought a subtle shift in (Y/n)’s demeanor. She took a moment to gather her thoughts before responding. “Shoto is... well, he’s still the same as ever. Dedicated to his hero work study and determined as always. We haven’t had much chance to catch up recently, but I know he’s been keeping busy.”

Fuyumi nodded in agreement. “He’s been doing great with his hero duties. He’s always been so committed to his role, and while he doesn’t always show it, I think he’s finding a way to balance his hero work and personal life.”

Rei’s face softened with understanding, though a shadow of concern lingered in her eyes. “I’m glad to hear he’s doing well, even if it’s from a distance. I know he’s had a lot to carry on his shoulders.”

(Y/n) looked at her mother, feeling the weight of her words. “Yes, he does. We’ve all had our own struggles, but we’re managing. We’re a bit of a patchwork family, but we’re making it work.”

The conversation drifted into lighter topics, the sisters sharing anecdotes about their daily lives and their moments of respite amidst their responsibilities. For a brief time, the room felt filled with the echoes of laughter and shared memories, a small island of peace in the sea of their complex emotions.

The hospital room was bathed in the soft hum of the night, a serene lull enveloping the space as Fuyumi and (Y/n) prepared to part ways. The air seemed to hold its breath as Fuyumi, with deliberate and tender movements, leaned in to press a gentle kiss to their mother’s cheek. Her touch was light, but it carried the weight of a promise.

“I’ll visit again soon, Mom,” she whispered, her voice a soothing balm that spoke of unwavering love and commitment.

(Y/n) followed, her heart heavy with the sorrow of impending goodbyes. She brushed a stray strand of hair from their mother’s face, her fingers lingering in a gesture of affectionate farewell. “Take care, Mom. We’ll see you soon,” she murmured, her voice trembling with the ache of her emotions.

With their farewells spoken, the sisters turned away reluctantly, the dim glow of the hallway lights casting a gentle, melancholic hue over their retreating forms. As they walked together towards the hospital’s entrance, the silence between them was a canvas of quiet reflection, each lost in their own reverie.

Fuyumi was the first to break the silence, her voice soft and contemplative as they reached the lobby. “I’m glad we came,” she said, her words carrying a sense of relief and solace. “It felt good to see Mom a little more at ease.”

(Y/n) nodded in agreement, her eyes reflecting a mixture of sadness and hope. She managed a faint, reassuring smile. “Me too. It’s a start, at least.”

They embraced once more, the hug a silent exchange of comfort and shared grief, before parting ways. Fuyumi headed towards their family home, the rhythmic crunch of leaves underfoot marking her departure. (Y/n) began her walk home, the autumn air crisp and invigorating, carrying with it the scent of fallen leaves and the subtle promise of change.

As she meandered down the quiet, dimly lit streets, her mind meandered through the day’s fleeting moments of connection with her mother. Each step felt like a movement through a fragile tapestry of emotions, woven with threads of hope and melancholy. The autumn breeze whispered through the trees, echoing the complex blend of uplift and unease that lingered in her heart.

ost in thought, she was suddenly jolted from her reverie by a rough hand gripping her shoulder. Before she could react, she was forcefully shoved against the wall of a narrow alleyway, the harsh impact knocking the breath from her lungs. Her heart raced as she looked up, her turquoise eyes meeting the cold, calculating gaze of a masked figure.

“Give me your bag,” the masked villain growled, his voice muffled and menacing. The glint of a weapon—perhaps a knife—caught the dim streetlight, adding a tangible edge to his threat.

Instinctively, (Y/n)’s hands moved to protect her belongings, but she remained calm, her mind racing even as her body was pushed to the brink of fear. She could feel the weight of the villain’s threat, but she was also acutely aware of the city’s quiet hum just beyond the alley—a reminder that help could be near if she could buy time.

“Alright, alright,” (Y/n) said, her voice steady despite the pounding of her heart. “Just—let me get it for you.”

With careful movements, she reached for her bag, her fingers brushing against the strap as she slowly unfastened it. She tried to keep her movements deliberate and non-threatening, hoping to avoid any sudden actions that might escalate the situation.

The villain’s eyes were locked on her, his grip on her shoulder firm and unyielding. “Hurry up. I don’t have all night.”

As (Y/n) fumbled with the strap of her bag, her mind raced, each heartbeat echoing with fear and the desperate hope for a way out. The villain's menacing presence loomed over her, the blade’s glint a harsh reminder of the danger she faced. Her breathing was shallow, and despite her attempts to remain composed, her hands trembled.

The alleyway felt increasingly claustrophobic, the walls closing in as the villain's impatient growl echoed in the narrow space. Every second felt like an eternity, her anxiety mounting with each passing moment.

Suddenly, a red flash streaked past her peripheral vision. Before she could fully comprehend what was happening, a powerful force surged forward, shoving the villain away from her with an explosive impact. The masked figure was flung against the opposite wall, his weapon clattering to the ground.

Instinctively, (Y/n) ducked, her heart pounding as she turned her gaze toward the source of the intervention. As the dust settled, she saw a striking figure standing between her and the disoriented villain. Crimson wings, like fiery plumes of a phoenix, flared out dramatically behind him, their brilliance casting a warm, protective light. The man’s blonde hair, tousled and wind-tousled, glowed under the streetlights, making him unmistakably recognizable.

It was the No. 2 hero, Hawks.

Masterlist