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bat-boys · 29 days

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domestic bliss

pairing: Azriel x fem reader

word count: 4.5k words

warning: suggestive language but no actual smut. just lots and lots of fluff!

summary: a series of scenes that give an insight into the domestic bliss you had built with your mate

a/n: oh my goshhh thank you so much for all the love and so sorry I've been a bit MIA. I'm in the middle of a couple of wips that I'm struggling to piece together so wanted to give you something quick whilst I get my act together. I hope you enjoy it loves 🫶🏻

Part 2

A soft breeze and warm sunlight trickled into the room through the open floor-to-ceiling doors leading out to your room's balcony. The sounds of the birds chirping outside and the busy city below created a peaceful atmosphere that soothed your soul as you lay stretched out on your bed, book in hand.

A noise akin to a purr escaped the lips of the fae male sprawled across your body, head resting gently on your stomach, as you combed your fingers through his luxurious midnight black curls. Your lips tilted up in an affectionate smile as you continued to soak up the words on your page. As you gently scraped your fingernails along his scalp, another deep groan elicited, leaving you giggling and your toes curling.

Sundays like this were your favourite. Slow, lazy and steady. Filled with quiet moments of simplicity. When Azriel wasn't busy off doing god knows what, god knows where, and you didn't have to attend any stuffy meetings or pour over lengthy negotiations and treaties as the emissary of the Night Court. When your mate could spend the day with you lounging in bed, just enjoying each other's presence.

"Why did you stop?" Az grumbled as you lifted your hand away from his head.

"I was turning the page, dummy." You chuckled at him.

"Well, hurry up."

"Big Illyrian baby," you cooed, a soft yelp leaving your lips when you felt Azriel gently bite down on the stretch of bare skin he was resting on. A satisfied sound left his lips—and caused your eyes to roll—when he felt your fingers back in his hair.

You, however, couldn't help the pulse of love and affection you sent down the bond when the next time you had to turn the page, one of his shadows appeared to do it for you.

Another chapter of your book was read before he spoke again, dispersing the soft, comfortable silence that had fallen between you. You had been convinced he had fallen asleep as you played with his hair.

"When do you go to the Court of Nightmares?" He mumbled against your skin, his lips pursing to kiss your hip quickly.

"Tomorrow." You sighed. It was your least favourite job as the official emissary, the one you dreaded doing every couple of weeks. Like Mor, you had been born under that particular mountain, crafted in its dark shadows, a dreamer bred to be a nightmare. It had taken years of wit and cunning to get to a position to meet the High Lord, years of barely surviving until you could petition him for a job—anything to get out of there.

"Do you want me to come with you?" He lifted his head slightly, his hazel eyes meeting yours. Silver nearly lined your eyes as you took in his soft, gentle expression. Azriel understood just how much going there took out of you. He knew that you would return home hollow and would require the rest of the night to be cooped up in bed with his arms around you.

He also recognised that you could absolutely do it alone. That you didn't need him beside you. You were strong enough to face your past head-on and would leave whatever meeting you were attending with Rhys and Feyre with the winning cards in your hand. But that didn't stop him from offering a comforting hand to hold throughout your time there.

"Please." You whispered. His lips stretched into a gentle smile as he lifted his body off you to scoot up the bed and press his lips to yours in a loving kiss.

"Of course, my love." And you knew that was that. No explanations, no words needed to be exchanged with Rhys. When it was time to travel to the Court of Nightmares, you would find your mate beside you, a reassuring hand in your own as he stood quietly beside you.

Azriel could see the tumultuous thoughts flitting across your brain, so he did the only thing he could. He bent down once again to press his lips to yours, pouring as much love and affection as he could down that beautiful, gleaming bond you shared.

Kissing Az never got boring, even after all these years together. He captured your bottom lip in his plush, slightly chapped lips, tugging slightly to elicit a soft groan from you, which he swallowed with his mouth. You lifted your arms to circle his neck, gently playing with the soft hairs there - your book long discarded and falling to the floor. He sighed against you as he wrapped his arms around your bare torso, pulling your chest flush against his as he deepened the kiss into something fiery that had a slow, dull ache beginning between your legs.

You could feel him against your inner thigh and smirked against his lips as you reached a finger towards his impressive wings and carefully dragged a fingernail along the underside of his right wing where they met his back, a spot you had discovered many years ago. A primal part of you stretched out in satisfaction as you felt Azriel shudder against you at the touch.

"So eager to go again, my love?" He teased, alluding to the several times he had already taken you that day as he gently nipped your skin before torturously slowly pressing open-mouthed, hot kisses along your jaw and down the column of your neck.

"Distract me, Az." You breathed, tipping your head back to expose even more of your delicate neck to him, groaning when you felt his canines skimming along your skin.

"With pleasure, sweetheart."

…

The noise was almost deafening, the room packed to the brim with politicians, courtiers, nobility and High Lords and their entourages. It was enough to overwhelm anyone, but Azriel watched from the edge of the room as you dazzled person after person, drifting from one group of fae to the next, completely and totally in your element.

You enjoyed nights like these when you got to flex the skills you had built up as an emissary to the Night Court, speaking to old friends, charming acquittances, and building friendships with those you had yet to meet. The beautiful deep black gown you wore also helped.

Azriel watched as you stood amongst courtiers from the Winter Court, catching up with some of the gossip from one of your allies. A flute of champagne dangled from your fingers; half drank as you tipped your head back to laugh at something one of your friends had said. The dress you wore tonight was some torture explicitly designed for him. It was sleeveless, showing off the delicate curves of your shoulders and décolletage, the high swell of your breasts threatening to spill over the top of your dress every time you drew breath. The slit that every now and then gave Azriel the view of the smooth curve of your leg was maddening. But what was true torture was the choker around your neck, encrusted with gems the same colour as his siphons—a reminder of where his hands had been last night.

He had almost sent a mental note to Rhys that the pair of you wouldn't be attending the party tonight when you had emerged from your bathroom and asked him to zip you up—favouring the idea of ravishing you right there and then. It was only the thought of watching you so expertly work the room, charming everyone so thoroughly, but knowing that only he had the privilege to take you home, that had him attending tonight.

As if you could hear his thoughts, your eyes drifted from the fae before you to lock eyes with your mate across the room. Matching smirks danced on your lips as he nodded at you, and you nodded back - an inside joke between the two of you started on that first official party you had been forced to attend when the mating bond was still so new.

A fire built in your body, beginning in your stomach and dipped lower and lower as you watched him push off the wall he had been leaning on and stalk towards you. He never once dropped eye contact, his shadows twirling before him and telling him where to step, creating a direct path to you.

You tracked him across the room, your skin burning from his gaze. When he stopped just in front of you, his shadows dispersed to dance among your skirts and play with the hair that cascaded down your back.

"Emissary." He greeted, bending his body into a tight bow whilst that playful smirk danced on his lips.

"Shadowsinger." You purred.

"Rhys has asked to see you urgently." The desire swirling in his hazel eyes made the grin on your lips widen as your stomach dipped in anticipation.

"Excuse me." You politely bowed your head to the people you previously held court with, dropping your now empty glass on a nearby table as you followed Azriel out of the room.

Your heels clacked on the beautifully tiled floor as you closed the distance between you and Azriel. You were still walking behind him but close enough to brush your hand against his. He turned his head slightly to smirk at you, and you felt his hand beside you curl and unfurl as he resisted the urge to touch you in front of everyone.

After moments of strutting through the House of Wind, you reached a part of the house away from the centre of the party, with fewer and fewer people milling around. It was only then that, with lightning-fast speed, Azriel's hand whipped out to grab yours and pull you into a shadowy alcove.

With firm hands, he pushed you against the wall, his shadows swirling to hide you from prying eyes, as one of Azriel's hands dropped to your hips and the other reached up to grip your neck. You groaned in delight at the feeling of his hands on you, the messy, feverish kisses he was now peppering along the bare skin of your neck, shoulder and collarbones.

"Az." You moaned as you felt his canines drag along that sensitive junction where your neck met your shoulder, his tongue following to soothe the slight sting.

"Fuck Y/N." He groaned into your skin, relishing in the way you tasted - so sweet. Even after years of being together, he would never get tired of tasting you, of his lips and tongue on your flesh, on your lips and in between your thighs.

"What if we get caught?" You managed to say, your chest heaving as you breathed heavily, hands gripping Azriel's broad shoulders tightly.

"That's never stopped you before, love." He teased as he ran his lips across the swell of your breasts, his touch feather-light, causing a shiver to run down your body and your eyes to roll to the back of your head.

The hand that was holding your hips in his grasp moved to slip under the slit of your dress, skimming down the curve of your leg, tracing over your knee and down your calf before wrapping around your thigh to lift it and hook it over his hips.

"You were torturing me out there, Princess." His voice had become deep and husky, and he elicited a groan from your lips as he was able to press his hips into yours with the new angle. Your body was set alight as you felt his straining erection through the material of his pants as he pushed into you.

"Looking delicious in that dress for everyone to see." His words caused molten lava to pool in your stomach, the throbbing at the apex of your thighs to become incessant, and the wetness gathering there began to drip down your thigh.

Anticipation curled in your stomach as you felt Azriel's hand travel from your thigh to your hip, skimming so lightly it was pure torture down your bikini line before reaching your swollen and slick sex - freezing when he realised he had unrestricted access.

"You've got to be kidding me, no underwear? Fuck you're killing me love." He groaned against your neck, roughly nipping at your jaw and causing a moan of your own to slip past your lips.

"All for you, Az." You whispered, throwing your head back against the solid wall behind you as he traced your slit, gathering the wetness pooling there.

"There they are." Rhys's unbothered drawl broke through the hazy atmosphere you were creating in your shadowy alcove, shattering the moment and causing you both to freeze.

"I knew those lovebirds hadn't gone far." Cassain chuckled from beside Rhys. You knew Azriel's shadows were keeping you covered, that they couldn't see anything and could only recognise you both because they knew how his shadows felt and what they looked like to the untrained eye.

"Piss off, Cass." Azriel snarled as he slowly extracted himself from you, carefully dropping your leg and trying to straighten your dress.

"Someone's cranky," Cassain teased, and you rolled your eyes as you watched Azriel's face turn into a murderous expression. Azriel was usually so calm and collected, not easy to rattle at all, except when it came to you.

"You know not to interrupt a male and his mate." You sighed as you gripped the front of the dress and tried to rearrange it over your chest. You noted the still-hungry look in Azriel's eyes as he watched your every move. A promise in his gaze that told you this wasn't over.

"If you wanted to enjoy each other's company in the hallway, that's totally up to you; we get it - looking beautiful as ever Y/N -," Rhys added as Azriel dropped his shadows once you looked presentable, "but we're doing a debrief in my office, and then you're all done for the night so you can move this to your bedroom if you wish…"

"We'll be there in 5 minutes," Azriel managed to grind out, his eyes still on yours, desperately trying to calm down.

"Is that all he lasts?" Azriel's eyes flared, and you knew Cassain had overstepped. You gave them both an eye roll, territorial fae bullshit.

"Cass," you warned as you heard your best friend chuckle at the snarl that ripped out of Azriel's mouth as he sauntered back down the hallway.

…

Azriel padded through the quiet hallway of the home he shared with you. His feet were cool as they touched the dark wood floor, a nice contrast to the heat pushing up against the windows from the summer sun outside. His shadows flitted and danced around him as they coaxed him to follow them, to follow them to her. His lips curled up in amusement at their behaviour as he neared the kitchen, where he could hear you humming and the soft sounds of you bustling around the kitchen.

He rounded the corner to lean on the doorframe; strong arms crossed over his bare chest as he took in the scene before him. His heart almost stopped dead at the sight of you standing at the large island in the middle of the room, mixing bowl in front of you and wooden spoon in hand, your glorious hair pulled half up into a messy bun tied at the back of your head - tendrils falling around your face and gleaming in the sun -, wearing nothing but one of his shirts.

A deep and primal part of him purred at the sight of you in his clothes, knowing that it was unlikely you had anything under that soft cotton. The fit was incredibly baggy on you, the hemline falling to your mid-thigh, the collar threatening to slip down your shoulder, and the sleeves so long you had had to roll them up. He delighted in being taller than you, bigger than you. A small part of him always soared when he bundled you up in his arms, being able to protect you with just his body. He knew, more than anyone, that you could handle yourself. In a tight situation, you could take down as many enemies as he could. But there was something so delightful about your body being so much smaller than his.

A soft melody slipped past your lips, and Azriel joined in as he pushed off the doorframe. Unable to contain the need to touch you any longer, he approached you. You jolted slightly at the feeling of his large, warm hands on your hips, and a soft yelp left your lips when you felt Azriel bury his head in your hair and press a chaste kiss to the skin of your neck.

"Morning, love," Azriel mumbled into your hair, breathing in your intoxicating scent.

"More like afternoon, babe; we spent all morning in bed!" you joked as you turned back to the task at hand.

"And whose fault is that." Azriel teased as he pulled away from your neck to reach around and gently nip at your earlobe, which sent a lick of fire straight to the apex of your thighs.

"Yours." You shot back, angling your head slightly to look at your mate.

"Hmm, I'm not so sure about that," he smirked, his beautiful hazel eyes dancing with mischief and desire as he dipped his head to press your lips in a searing kiss. Kissing Azriel was like this: all or nothing. Either his kisses were chaste, quick things meant to convey a simple hi or, more often than not, a quick acknowledgement of you during conversations or as you passed each other in corridors or hallways. His other types of kisses were slow, leisurely and utterly torturous, and he poured every ounce of love he had for you into them. His lips moved lazily with yours, licking across the seam of your lips and begging for entrance before licking into your mouth - your knees almost buckling at the intoxicating sensation and the fire burning in your body. He knew what he was doing, as was evident when he pulled away with a smirk on his lips, "what are you making?"

He grinned when he watched your eyes drift back into focus, your body slamming down to reality after a kiss that was so heady but given so casually.

"A lemon drizzle cake." You replied somewhat breathlessly, which made him chuckle, and you felt his chest rumble on your back.

"My favourite." He said as he returned to his spot behind you and wrapped his arms around your torso, bringing your back flush to his chest as you continued baking.

"I know, love." You softly spoke as you began to stir the mixture before you. Judging by the smile in your voice, he knew you were thinking of that moment a handful of years ago when you had both accepted the mating bond with a lemon drizzle cake.

It had been your first time to the Court of Nightmares since you had escaped and been made part of the Night Court. You had been secretly dreading it, knowing that your usual skill set as emissary would all fall apart in that place when your eyes would land on your family and those familiar snarling faces. And it had. Everything had gone to shit the moment your family had spotted you beside Rhys' throne and had smelt that mating bond on you. It had started with shouting and had escalated to your family barging their way up to the throne and threatening to gut you for turning into a whore.

Rhys had pulled rank and ordered everyone to leave, and you had been quickly winnowed to the safety of the townhouse, where everyone had rallied around you and tried to distract you. Rhys and Azriel had gone back to calm the situation and assess the aftermath. You had been cooped up in the arms of Cassain for the evening, a loving and supportive brother figure you had never had before. But deep down, you had wanted only one pair of arms around you to soothe you and remind you that your family do not dictate who you are.

Everyone had eventually retreated to bed, but you had stayed, needing to see him, knowing he would return at some god-forsaken hour. He had found you then when he winnowed to appear in the living room of the townhouse, curled up on a sofa in front of the fire with a book in your hand. At his appearance, you slowly put the book down to look at him.

The bond was newly snapped in place, but he could feel your emotions faintly and was so overwhelmed by the fact that you had stayed up for him that all he could think to say was, "Good book?"

He had watched fascinated as your lips curled into a soft smile, the first since the incident so many hours ago. "Couldn't put it down."

He chuckled lowly but didn't move from his spot as you slipped a bookmark into the page and popped it beside you, swinging your legs off the sofa to sit facing him.

"Az, I think we need to talk." He watched as you outstretched your hand, gesturing for him to come and sit with him.

His heart had sunk as he had walked over to you, joining you on the sofa. He knew you needed to talk about the mating bond and how you moved forward—you had been friends for so long, and he had been yearning for you since the first day he met you. And now he was terrified that you were about to reject the bond, reject him, and he was going to lose the woman he loved and the friendship he cherished with you all in one go.

"Y/N, you need to do the right thing for you - please don't accept something because you feel bad for me. We can work it out. I can perhaps get Rhys to station me in the Illyrian mountains so you can stay here, and I-"

"Respectfully, what the hell are you talking about, Az?" You stared, baffled, at the male before you as he rambled on. He couldn't look at you, and his expression conveyed such sadness.

"The logistics of you rejecting the bond—that's what you want to talk about, isn't it?" A bark of laughter left your lips, shocking him and causing him to snap his head up to look at you in confusion.

"Oh Az, no honey, that's not what I wanted to talk about," you softly said as you held one of his beautiful, scarred hands in one of yours and brought the other to cup his cheek. You watched, fascinated, as he internally debated whether to lean into your touch, "Stay here a second; I'll be back."

He watched, confused, as you flashed him a warm, comforting smile before dashing off the sofa and disappearing into the hallway outside the living room. The wait may have been seconds, minutes at most, but it felt like hours to Azriel. His heart had stopped dead when you returned, a dish in your hand in which a delicately decorated cake sat atop it. He watched keenly as you walked back to him, smiling sheepishly and nervously, and sat back beside him on the sofa.

"This is for you. I want to accept the mating bond." Those words, spoken so softly in the dead of night, in a house that had seen so much joy and heartache before, were enough to set Azriel alight. He had no words to describe the feeling that was coursing through him as he looked between you and the cake you held out towards him.

His hands moved on their own accord as he took the dish from you, noticing the sugar icing that had been meticulously drizzled onto the soft sponge and the sweet little decorative flower you had piped into the centre. Just from looking at it, he could tell you had baked this cake and poured every ounce of feeling into it, and he felt himself getting choked up at the thought.

"Are you sure?" He whispered, and the vulnerable look on that face was enough to break your heart.

"Yes. I have loved you for years, Az and the snapping of the bond in place made it seem as if the Mother and the Cauldron had finally listened to all those prayers I sent them. I baked this earlier to give it to you after we had returned from a successful meeting at the Court of Nightmares," his lips quirked ever so slightly at the sarcasm that dripped from your voice, "it may not be the moment I intended; but it's still perfect anyway. It's a larger version of those lemon sponges you love from that bakery we found last year. The owner gave me the recipe. I want you, Azriel."

Azriel had given up on finding his mate, resigned to always wondering. When you had crash-landed into his life a handful of years ago, he had silently hoped it would be you, and when he had tripped and fallen head-first in love with you, he had begun to beg that the mating bond would snap one day. So many years of yearning for you, unaware that you felt the same, that you were begging for it to be him as well. So many wasted years. And when the mating bond had finally snapped, when you had returned from a month-long summit at the Day Court and taken one look at him, he had almost fallen to his knees then and there.

He had finally found you, and you wanted him back. Words would come to him later, spoken against the soft sheets of your bed, in between feverish kisses and in the afterglow of what was to come, so for now, he held your gaze as he lifted the small slice you had cut for him and took a bite.

"Az, baby. I need to put the cake in the oven." Your words brought him out of the daydream he had been enjoying and back to the present moment. He chuckled and kissed your temple before unwinding from your body and taking a step back so you could move to put the cake tin in your hands and into the oven.

He leaned back against the counter as he watched you carefully manoeuvre it inside before triumphantly shutting the oven door and turning back to him with a satisfied smile.

"Come here." He held out his hand, a gesture so similar to the one you had given him all those years ago that a smile danced on both of your faces. You let him pull you against his chest, one of his hands falling to your hips and the other coming up to cup your cheek, his thumb gently brushing some flour that had somehow made its way to your face.

"Happy 10-year anniversary, love." You whispered into the gentle silence, and the shadowsinger gave you a beautiful smile.

"Happy 10 year anniversary, sweetheart." He whispered back as he closed the distance and gently pressed his lips to yours in a loving kiss that held 10 years of the most beautiful memories.

Read Part 2 here!

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fanaticsnail · 7 months

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Snail Masterlist

Hello and welcome, I'm Snail!

I write mainly "x reader" for the One-Piece fandom, all catalogued below the cut. I enjoy writing in my free time, forever chasing the green leaf of lettuce dangling in front of my eyes. I hope you enjoy your time on this page. It is a pleasure carving out worlds that you get to be placed in the middle of. Love you 🖤

Ao3: Archive of our Own link, if you prefer reading on that platform.

WIP List: My current works in progress.

Request: Guidelines for asking for a particular craving to be written for you.

Fic Gift Swapping: I write for you, you write for me. It's a win-win.

Pollen Masterlist: NSFW for multitude of characters for the pollen-trope.

Ko-Fi: If you feel so inclined to support me as I keep creating works, this is a link to enable that should you so desire.

Fic Inspo: mood boards, clips and prompts for all to use.

Glimpses: parts of my life I share.

Fic Recommendations: a collection of works I find myself returning to, written by some beautiful authors.

"Straw Hats and Beyond"

Monkey D. Luffy:

Bachata (Dance Series) (one-shot)

Gyrating, thrusting, swaying and grinding. Where did the straw-hat captain learn to dance in this way? The crew, holding many a whispered conversation regarding the captain's sultry movements, finally is approached head-on by the quartermaster of the Going Merry. Flushed cheeks, gasped breaths and soft smiles ensue as the captain aims to teach her a few of his moves.

Run Away With Me (one-shot)

After being left after a night of passion by her marine lover, sorrow eclipsed the hardening heart of the owner of the library. The librarian, after swearing off sea-baring men, is physically swept off her feet by a mischievous, straw-hat wearing captain who woos her with his undivided support of her dreams of romance.

Australian Luffy (HC Drabbles)

Just some silly dialogue with Aussie slang from Monkey D "Loz"

Ravenous (NSFW one-shot)

Luffy is hungry, and he will stop at nothing to get what he wants. He doesn’t care where it happens, how it happens, or what exactly happens - all he cares about is the who and when. The who is you, and the when is right now and until his hunger is fully satisfied.

Roronoa Zoro:

Blade Song(Dance Series) (one-shot)

The Straw-Hat pirate crew finds themselves amongst a fire-side, sea-front celebration. Swaying, gyrating and twirling occurs with all but one of the crew. The swordsman, never truly learning how to dance in such a way, regrets his miseducation as soon as he sees the object of his pining dancing within the arms of the blonde chef.

Flowers (one-shot)

Men are known to only receive flowers once in their lifetimes, and they are not even able to see them. The Straw-Hat botanist desires to rectify this for one member of the Straw-Hat pirates, the tri-sword wielding First Mate.

Gua-Sha (one-shot)

Slightly fixated by the dragging of the smooth rock against his crewmen's cheeks and jaw, Zoro immediately pipes up and welcomes the opportunity to have his face massaged to relieve any built up tension and pressure behind it. Pining always from afar, Zoro hopes this small moment would bring the two closer together.

Something Like That (request) (one-shot)

A traveler finds themselves accidentally crashing an exclusive event at Baratie, celebrating a foreign holiday with unusual customs. Pulling you away from your evening meal, your eyes met with the hazelnut gaze of a green-haired swordsman. A sprig of emerald leaves, pearls of flowers and a ribbon hung above your heads - what is this? why is he leaning down to press his lips atop your own?

You Deserve Better (Pollen!One-Shot NSFW)

Zoro has inhaled pollen while lost and away from his crew. His crew return from a day of celebration and tease him for is senseless navigational skills. But you notice something's wrong with him. He's hot. So, so hot. And he needs your help to combat his illness. You want to help him so badly, why won't he let you get Chopper? And why was he holding you like that?

Blackleg Sanji:

Bar Shift (4/4 Series)

An all-rounder, front of house manager finally acquires the first day off she's had in a very long time. Sanji, the ever faithful "work-husband" makes her breakfast just in time for Patty to break the news to her that her peaceful day off is to come to an end. Covering the bar shift for one of her staff members, shenanigans and mutual pining ensues.

Waltz (Dance Series) (one-shot)

The chief negotiator and relations expert of the Straw-Hat pirates attempts to teach her captain how to perform a waltz to woo the upper class in a formal setting. She finds joy in movement, but Luffy himself was found to be truly incapable of performing the dance to an adequate level. At lunch, she notices how Sanji holds himself; his posture strong and rigid as he effortlessly glides around the table. She asks him to dance, and he truly surprises her.

3, 2, 1 (request) (3/3 Series)

Sanji notices some interesting etchings against the Going Merry's Chronicler's Journal. Questioning her, she informs him the 'x's and numbers are indicating his amount of cigarette breaks per day and the duration they are taken. Brainstorming ideas on how to achieve the same rush of adrenaline, endorphins and breath control in a healthier way than nicatine addiction; the chronicler, in her genius, suggests they share kisses and bold embraces for the duration of his many breaks: all kept under the strict limit of the egg-shaped timer.

"Someone. Someone Help Me" (NSFW Pollen!Drabble)

"Thank You" (NSFW Pollen!One-Shot)

Sanji has inhaled pollen. There is nobody around to help him and he is a desperate, pleading, subby mess.

Your Flirty Chef (one-shot)

Sanji has been working hard lately, your flirty chef no longer as present as you’d like him to be. You both have some unspoken flirtation between you, hopefully something to shatter by moulding him beneath the touch of your hands.

Sanji x Reader x Zoro:

Eyes Meeting (NSFW part 1)

Lips Brushing (NSFW part 2)

Sanji is in a relationship with the ships chronicler. Zoro accidentally stumbles across them engaging together in intimacy. As soon as his eyes meet with the chronicler's, he is enchanted by their beauty in their bliss.

Koby:

To the ends of the earth (one-shot)

The newest recruits taken under the wing of Vice-Admiral Garp are desperately required of breaking in their training. Leaving them in the care of a young lieutenant, Koby begins to develop a crush on his superior as he pushes his body under her command to perform to the best of his abilities.

Téir Abhaile Riú (3/3 Series)

The mighty Marine vessel Vice-Admiral Garp captains was in dire need of repair. Docking against the peer of a small country town, the Marines are welcomed to the shore by an impromptu performance by the local town celebrity band: the 'Merry Mellifluous Quint'. One of the five members catches the eye and attention of the fast-learning, pink haired cadet who in term becomes immediately smitten by the attention she receives from him.

It's All Okay (NSFW One-Shot)

When submissive Koby gives in to his dominant craving, and all he's met with is support, praise and affirmation in your arms.

Trafalgar D Water Law:

Law Wants You (NSFW Drabble)

Trafalga Law wants you. He wants all of you.

Don't Be So Shy (NSFW Drabble)

Trafalga Law enjoys comforting a shy reader while they take control.

You're The Cure (NSFW Pollen!one-shot)

Law bought you a pretty flower from a port, wanting to impress you with it, and perhaps use it as a courting gift should you want him. As the Polar Tang's Herbalist, you know there is more to this flower than meets the eye. Trafalgar Law got more than what he bargained for with this little gift.

That Thing I Like (One-Shot)

You are ships counselor to the Polar Tang. For the past four days, you had been called into Law’s office over the Den-Den transponder speakers. The crew assumes you two had began a relationship, but what actually occurs is far more intimate than any romantic encounter.

Eustass Kid:

Shameless (NSFW Series 3/3)

You have a type, one that has been forcefully revealed by your crewmen's incessant nagging. After being ordered to return to your workshop to receive further instruction, you become fully aware of why you have been hidden away from meeting with the captain of the Victoria Punk. He was exactly your type.

"Good Boy" (one shot)

Eustass Kid didn't know exactly when it happened, but now he craves to be praised by you. He thrives beneath your words, but the one time you didn't call him a "good boy" has him in a bratty rage.

Restrained (NSFW one-shot)

Eustass Kid didn't know what possessed him to allow his lover to restrain him against his Captains' chair. But yet, here he is: stuck and loving it.

Cellist Kid (NSFW drabble)

Your academic rival and you do not get along. You find his boorish intensity revolting, and he finds your attitude standoffish. As your conductor decides to pair you together to practice, tempers flare and passion ignites.

Massacre Soldier Killer:

Will You Let Me? (NSFW Pollen!one-shot)

Your crew was docked at a port, exploring a new land while you requested to remain behind. Enjoying being without the unruly bunch, your momentary calm was disrupted by the staggering step of your superior. Coughs, grunts and stuttering over his words: your concern grew more severe as you offered to help him through it.

Soul King Brook:

Parts You Left Behind (one-shot)

You are the ship’s counselor aboard the Polar Tang. Giving your captain the permission he desires to behave idiotically with the two Nakama captains, you give yourself permission to behave with similar unbridled stupidity. The Soul-King Brook has your romantic attention: you love his energy and decide to reciprocate his flirtations, no matter how crass and distasteful they come across.

Multiples:

Get Well Soon (Drabble one-shot)

You're sick, and they do their best to support you through it. Zoro, Sanji, Mihawk

Mistletoe (one-shot) (Straw-Hat holiday special)

The botanist aboard the Going Merry shares a cultural tradition with her crew; introducing them and reeducating them on the importance of mistletoe and the mischievousness of her playful lips. Every single member receives a kiss from the botanist; all welcome to her sharing her culture with them.

The Selkie and the Sailor: Mini Fic Drabble (One-Shot)

A mythical creature has rescued the captain of the straw-hat pirates from drowning in the sea. As her eyes meet with the crew, she is immediately taken with one of the sailors: Zoro, Sanji, Luffy

Kiss their cheek (Drabble one-shot)

It was a simple reaction, an impulse you felt organic and out of your control. Their cheek was right there, and the swell in your chest and spike of adrenaline prompted you to lunge forward and capture their cheek beneath your lips. How do they react to such a soft touch? Do they shy away, or do they respond in kind? Sanji, Zoro, Luffy, Law, Kid

Recovery (one-shot)

You are in a recovery cot in a hospital willing to accommodate you, resting as your body heals from your latest battle. Expecting to recover alone, you are pleasantly surprised to find yourself within the company of the person you craved the most.

Zoro, Sanji

Please, I'll be good (one-shot)

After rescuing you in the heat of battle, he can no longer contain his desires for you. He was so good. He can keep being good if it means you'll keep kissing him.

Koby, Sanji, Corazon, Sabo, Buggy, Shachi, Ace, Penguin

Last One Laughing (One-Shot)

The Heart-Pirate crew were bent on getting their Captain to smile, no matter the cost. Swapping jokes after mealtime, you all continued to check over your shoulder to see if you managed to break the upturned curve into Law's face.

Platonic Heart-Pirates x reader

"Can You Buy Me Supplies?" (Dialogue)

How the OP characters react to you asking them to purchase you sanitary items for your menstruation period. One sentence dialogue.

Robin, Franky, Chopper, Zoro, Sanji, Luffy, Nami, Usopp, Brook, Kid, Killer, Law, Mihawk, Crocodile, Buggy, Shanks, Beckman, Doflamingo, Corazon.

How They Kiss (drabble)

Four different kisses with all of your favourites. Where would you place them in these categories?

Hallmark Piggyback (drabble)

Short piggyback on @indydonuts post about OP characters in a hallmark movie. Drabble is for Law x reader x Mihawk - amnesia trope

Lathered Up (NSFW One-Shot)

After spending far too long at sea in the Polar Tang, all you wanted was a shower. Your two lovers join you in ridding their bodies of grime while enjoying ridding you of your stress. Shachi x afab!reader x Penguin

"A little bit older"

Buggy D. Clown:

You Kissed the Clown? (15/15 Series)

An upper-class tinkerer finds herself amongst the crew of the Staw-Hat pirates. Falling within the blast of a giant flash of red smoke and captured with her crew in the claws of the Buggy Pirates; she is confronted by her flight, fight and freeze response. Immediately, she finds another way of distracting the infamous clown-captain: a passionate and disarming kiss. As time and distance fall between them, feelings of romance, infatuation, fascination and longing cling to the clown and the tinkerer in each other's absence. How could they feel so deeply for each other; they only shared one single kiss?

Happy Birthday, Pumpkin (one-shot)

Buggy longs to kiss you but always shies away in case his affection is not reciprocated. Finally, an opportunity presents itself for a consequence-free kiss and he can barely hold himself back in anticipation. Happy birthday!

I Can't Do This Without You (one-shot)(smut)

Buggy attempted to use some unusual, waxy pollen to form into a "buggy-ball". He was an idiot. He can't manage the consequences without his loyal and ever faithful crewmate to help him out.

A Small Kindness (Smut One-Shot)

A blue-haired man with a round red nose is down on his luck. He's lost everything, not a single berry to his name after being defeated again by the straw-hat crew. A small kindness from a stranger propels him to get back on his feet. How could he repay you? Surely you needed something in return.

Headcanons & Drabbles:

Soft-Dom Buggy Bratty Buggy Cross-Guild Interrogation The Clown Apologises

Buggy x Reader x Mihawk:

Swing, Sway, Shag, Smimmy (Buggy x Reader x Mihawk) (4/4)

Buggy is infatuated with his prized acrobat. He issues a dance night-off for his pirate crew, choosing to "make a move" in the hopes of charming his beautiful acrobat under the hawk-like gaze of his guest of honour. Unbeknownst to Buggy, the feeling of infatuation is mutual regarding the acrobat. Can they learn to 'play nice' to woo the acrobat? Yes, yes they can.

Dracule Mihawk:

The Apprentice (6/7 Series)

Mihawk is a bitchy boss, the apprentice is his bratty underling. Professionalism, sword-mastery and affiliation for wine consumption drives their relationship. Mihawk pushed his apprentice a little too far, prompting her to submit a formal resignation effective immediately. Calling her bluff, he attempts to chaperone her towards a cellar door to begin an afternoon of wine-tasting, only to find absence at his side as his apprentice simply walked away from him. And he was angry about it. Ongoing series.

You Should Be Sad (Completed Series):

Upon rising to the title of Warlord and Worlds-Greatest-Swordsman, Dracule Mihawk began to neglect his fiancé and her desires. Unable to provide her with the one thing she truly longed for, he remained apathetic as she broke from their lengthy courtship. A decade later, and many a bottle of brandy relinquished, he drifts to Baratie in hopes of drowning away the memory of her: only to have his hopes shattered as the hired band begins to play with his ex-fiancé singing her vengeance at him.

Let Me Take Care of You (one-shot)

The personal assistant to Dracule Mihawk notices he is not quite acting himself: a small wince as he reaches for his breakfast wine glass, a grimace as he draws it to his lips and the narrowing of his eyes as he begins to slouch. Luckily for the both of them, the assistant has a resume of many a skill: remedial massage being the key element provided to the broody warlord. He reluctantly accepts their touch, longing for the burden to be released from his shoulders.

El Tango de Mihawk (one-shot)

A talented thief manages to obtain an invite to the marine ball and decides to utilize it as a great opportunity to steal from the wealthiest members of the world government. Mihawk immediately recognizes them and decides to toy with their scheming, tango dancing ensues.

The Marine's Mistake (request) (one-shot)

Something horrible occurred to rid the warlord of his signature facial hair. Cadets had gathered and began whispering in hushed tones as Garp held a seated meeting with the warlord at a table in a run of the mill tavern. A new transfer does not recognize the sleek cheeks of the handsome gentlemen and immediately decides to approach to flirtatiously engage him over a drink or two. Mihawk is amused.

My Love Mine All Mine (request) (one-shot)

Mihawk returns to his castle in kuraigana nine days after he was due to return. He finds his lover sleeping in his bed, face falling to rest atop his pillow. Soft drabble, pining, longing.

Hanahaki: The Hawk and the Fledgling (request) (one-shot) Part 2

Mihawk notices his Fledgling, an apprentice he took under his wing, has become lazy in their training. Upon one final vocal reprimand, they collapse; sputtering a cocktail of saliva, blood and... petals? Is that petals in their hand? Surely not.

The Spear and the Sword (request) (one shot)

Drabble Part 2

Mihawk is required by Vice-Admiral Garp to obliterate an approaching armada of barbaric pillagers from their attack on a marine base. As this army was not enough for him to handle alone, Garp calls in another warlord, a ferocious warrior-woman armed with a spear, to aid in his ability to complete this task with as much succession as possible with as little damage done to the defenseless base. Both begin their armed ascension, showcasing their abilities in contest to see how many troops they best by the end of battle, against how many injuries they themselves acquire in the thralls of combat.

Little Sparrow (one-shot: drabble)

Mihawk has been up with your daughter, soothing her as she experiences her leap weeks. You spend some moments with your husband as he holds her in his arms.

Sapsorrow: (8/10 Series)

The two wards of Dracule Mihawk and his green-haired apprentice stumble across a large collection of treasure in one of the large and ornate wings of Castle Kuraigana. The central object in the room is a embroidered pillow, a small circlet of intricately carved gold lay in the middle.

The three of them begin fiddling with it, it becomes stuck on the green-haired swordsman's finger. A struggle occurs, the ring slips from his finger and a large bell-like tinkle rings against the marble floor. Perona frantically tells the Ward to get it before it's noticed. She stoops, finds the ring and slips it on for safekeeping.

Mihawk, stumbling across the three of them, accuses them of toying with the object. His eyes widen as his focus shifts to the ring fitting perfectly on the appropriate finger of his ward.

"Whom so ever fits the ring becomes wed to the warlord who owns it."

Macule Drihawk (drabble)

When Dracule Mihawk drinks, he becomes an entirely different person. That person's name is Macule Drihawk.

Red Haired Shanks:

Dancando Lambada (one-shot)

After your ship crashed just off the coast line of your hometown, your friend: the bride, is left without a Captain to perform her ceremony to unite her with her beau. Fortunately for you, you see a ship coming in off the coastline. Will their captain help you in exchange for a night of good food, fine drink and sensual dancing?

Remember Me (one-shot)

Ten years since the love of his life was claimed by the sea, Shanks finds himself celebrating her memory with many a drink in a fishing village. Spluttering over his amber ale, Benn Beckman pales in freight at the sight of a woman drinking merrily at the bar. But it couldn't be her, she was lost to him.

Where is my bride (Sapsorrow Spin Off Drabble)

Once lost, again found: Shanks has accidentally bcome lockd into a cruel plot to have him marry a woman he has never seen nor heart of. The timer is ticking, the claws of the spectre of a woman scorned tethered to him and awaiting to claim his soul should he fail. He has seven days to wed. But where are you?

Two More Times (one-shot NSFW)

A meet up with a beautiful Captain has you feeling unworthy of being by Shanks' side as his partner. Shanks does not like being ignored - he wants to showcase his pretty girl sat on his knee. He reminds you of your importance to him, while punishing you for behaving like a brat. His brat.

Drabbles & Headcanons:

Shanks Likes to Dance HC Drabble

Sir Crocodile:

My Favorite (Sir Crocodile x Reader)

Sir Crocodile has founded a league of highly trained assassins named "The Choirs" - all coded after the nine choirs of angelic influences. You are his favorite: his prized "Seraphim" who's ferocious brutality is only outmatched by your incredible beauty. Not truly knowing if your affection is all an act to continue being paid a wage in berry, he has not made a move of his own aside from calling upon you to sit on his knee of an evening, and have you utter praises into his ear. It is only when the two other members of the Cross-Guild begin flirting does he find his limit being tested. Will he bend, or will he break?

Sands of Time: Intentions of Series

Sir Crocodile thought he was safe from the intentions of the haunting Sapsorrow Queen. His soul has been laid claim, his time is running out. How can he have a stranger fall in love with his within the year? Would she truly take his sould should he fail?

When We Wake (one-shot)

Blissfully waking within the arms of your lover, you are both struck with the thoughts of how precious you have become to one another. Whispering confessions of adoration to one another while the other slumbers, you are both completely overcome with such deep devotion.

The Duality of Sir Crocodile (NSFW drabble)

The duality of a dominating gentleman. Spoiling and endearing, encumbering and brutal.

Benn Beckman:

When You Had The Chance (one-shot)

Serving as first mate to the Buggy-Pirates, it was your job to keep your captain grounded and uplifted. When tempers flared, he decided to confront his childhood rival once and for all - pulling out all the stops to finally lay their feud to rest. One of them would be leaving with their life, the other fallen at their feet. Instead of stifling his fury, you decided to elevate your captain’s wrath: seeking vengeance of your own against the man who once cast you aside after you confessed your feelings for him. Crew against crew, Captain against Captain, First-Mate against First-Mate - will you win, or lie at the mercy of the man you once loved.

"Mister Beckman" (one-shot)

The first mate of the Red-Hair pirates is attempting to relax and enjoy his evening with you, but is rudely interrupted by Shanks' tinkering and clanging within the Captain's quarters.

Kind And Gentle (One-Shot)

Your shoulders and back ached with a pain you had attempted to cast aside as you went about your duties. The ache turned excruciating, your focus now being taken hostage between the gripping pain. Fortunately, the grip of two firm hands found your body and eased you through the torment.

You shot a baby? (Dialogue)

Part 2 (one-shot)

Donquixote Rosinante:

Benn Beckman shot Eustass Kid's arm off. You are not happy about it.

Daughter of the Sea (5/5 series)

As a reformed spymistress working for the new title holder of "Worlds Greatest Swordsman," you are prepare for the worst, anticipating every possible outcome. What you did not prepare for was Mihawk's oldest rival presenting you with a sight that had the pair of you perplexed: his latest plunder.

After first meeting years ago, Beckman had longed for you from afar. All those feelings come flooding back to him once he sees the young baby in your arms.

Despiértame mi Corazon (Dance Series) (Gift One-Shot)

You have been on the run from Donquixote Doflamingo, sheltering and caring for a young, sick child. Your emotions catch up with you as you process the change your life has led you to. You’ve left it all: family, career, friends - all to support Rosinante in his quest to cure the boy. Upon seeing you in this state, your Corazon will do anything to see you smile again.

Donquixote Rosinante's Journey with Modern Slang (crack dialogue)

Mild background context: Law's skills as a doctor saved a person with the devil-fruit with the ability grant a single wish. Law used that wish to bring back Donquixote "Corazon" Rosinante as he was: lying in the snow and unresponsive. He wanted the chance to use what he's learnt to save him, and save him he does. Both now in their 20s, Rosi is adjusting and attempting to learn the current slang to relate to his grown son.

Rosinante's Trip Down Under (one-shot)

Modern AU, Rosinante visiting your hometown in Queensland Australia. He is overwhelmed by the cultural differences, but loves to learn the slang.

Donquixote Doflamingo:

Pretty Red Ribbon (one-shot)

After your birthday was ruined last year at the hands of a certain pink-feather-donning, glasses-wearing gentleman who you love to hate, your fellow warlord, Sir Crocodile, gives you a little gift you did not expect to darken your doorstep.

Play Stupid Games Win Stupid Prizes (NSFW One-Shot)

Doffy is attempting to gain the upper hand against you. He's longed for you, yearned for you - in his own unique way. Considering you never give in to his flirtatious advances, he takes matters into his own hands and attempts to spike your drink. The problem? Your quick wit and nimble fingers switch whisky glasses with him, causing unforeseen problems that he has no cure for…

Bogard:

The Break is Never Easy (Dance Series) (request) (one-shot)

You were invited as an artist to showcase your work at the bi-anual ball thrown for the marines. A decade has passed between you and your severance from your ex-fiance, old flames reigniting as tension builds throughout the night.

Misc Drabbles:

You're Angry at the Tall Men: Drabble (One-Shot)

He knows what he did to earn your wrath; your fury ignited in your eyes and the flames physically tangible and searing the room with your scorn. Your brow was furrowed, your lips curling into a snarl to bare your pearled teeth at him. Buggy, Shanks, Mihawk, Sir Crocodile, Corazon, Doflamingo.

An Affectionate Embrace: Drabble (One-Shot)

Forehead Kisses (short drabble)

You're being a brat because they're neglecting you. Prepare to be greeted with the forehead kiss you crave from them.

Zoro, Crocodile, Kid, Killer, Beckman, Mihawk

Interrogation (crack dialogue)

Cross-Guild crack dialogue x reader.

"A little bit bolder"

Chef Zeff:

Honey Glazed (one-shot)

After completing the closing shift of chaotic energy aboard Baratie, conversations turn into flirtations as the chef's hold a completely hypothetical conversation regarding how to adequately prepare and cook-with human. The front of house manager offers her body to be the central focus for the fixation of the chef's unhinged thoughts. Zeff does not shy away from a flirtatious challenge.

Monkey D Garp:

Bonnie Lass: Part 1, Part 2(NSFW) (2/2 Series)

As the assistant to one of the warlords of the seas, it is your task to man the small den-den-mushi earpiece assigned to Mihawk: managing his assignments, scribing the notes of importance. As the receiver drones on, you answer the call and are greeted to the familiar brogue of the Vice-Admiral you had not yet met face to face.

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gffa · 8 months

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Okay, so it was a month since my last BATFAMILY fic recs set, but in my defense a) huge life changes and b) I did a quick count up of how many recs I had built up and it was literally well over a million words. A million words! In one recs set! And this is like the seventh one of these that I've done! And I still have at least a thousand fics on my reader that I haven't started! Because this fandom has seriously not just consumed my brain, but given me absolutely amazing stuff to read that scratches all the itches I desperately have--well, okay, scratches the itch I have for my Dick Grayson Problem, but same thing.

I've really needed some escapism lately and being able to laugh or cry or just sink into a nice, long novella or even novel-length fic has really been a godsend has done a lot to soothe me and help me process feelings that sometimes otherwise can feel too overwhelming to deal with. All while also giving me the exploration of issues or decompression time with the characters' issues that the canon itself doesn't have the space for. So, I hope this list can give others something to read in the way it has given me so much that I've loved and brought me joy or emotional catharsis, because fandom has been really incredible about Bringing The Good Stuff and I want to repay the favor!

BATFAM FIC RECS - BABY DICK IS THE CUTEST FERAL ROBIN I'M NOT HEARING ANY ARGUMENTS: ✦ The Halfway Point by Sugarcookie222, dick & bruce & alfred & clark, 5k After a miscommunication with Bruce, a 13-year-old Dick runs away. He makes it as far as a diner in a nearby state. Bruce had left to finalize the adoption papers but clearly needs to work on his communication skills. He calls Superman in a panic to help him find Dick.

✦ be safe, they said (be good) by deargalileo, bruce & dick & alfred, 4k there's a tree in the wayne's backyard. a very specific tree, one that seems to attract daring children like bees to honey. unfortunately for the children, it is not a tree that is suited for climbing. fortunately for the children, they have fathers who are there to stitch them up.

✦ a haunted ballroom by lothIoriens, bruce & dick & alfred, 11.9k wip When Dick stumbles across the ghosts of Wayne Manor dancing the night away in an abandoned wing of the house, he thinks that, finally, something might be normal again. But the ghosts are nervous, and he doesn't know why. Something is brewing underneath the surface of Wayne Manor, and it's up to Dick to find out what it is—and it's up to Bruce to make sure nothing happens to his charge in the meantime.

✦ Straight On Til Morning by audreycritter, bruce & dick, 1.2k Bruce wakes Dick up on a school night to show him the sky. It dredges up memories for Dick, and it would be a disaster, except it’s Bruce. And Bruce understands.

✦ (More) Pressing Matters by Syl, bruce & dick, 39.2k Dick Grayson arrives at Wayne Manor, a cold empty place, shortly after his parents' murder: A re-telling of the Boy Wonder's well-known origin story.

✦ First Action Hero by Goldmonger, bruce & dick & clark & cast, 3.5k “Jerkwads,” Dick said darkly, taking Clark’s hand. He looked up at him then, dressed smartly in a black suit and tie, and wearing converses with Sonic the Hedgehog on them. “You okay, Uncle Clark?”

✦ Lil Birdy Wants to Fly by lil_taair, bruce & dick, 3.8k Bruce would have usually appreciated the cheeky smile that was directed at him if his son wasn’t 25 fucking feet off the ground

✦ World's Finest: Fortress of Friendship by WingFeathers, bruce & dick & clark & diana, 6.9k Finally, Dick talks Bruce into letting him see the Fortress of Solitude – provided that Dick stay safe and out of the way while the Trinity discusses some Secret Important Business about a certain young Amazon. Clark promises that the Fortress will be safe, but is that a promise he can make?

✦ Stolen Son by springfox (dallystrings), bruce & dick & jim, 8.6k Dick is excited to visit an American mall for the first time, and Bruce struggles to understand the difference between 'guardian' and 'dad'.

✦ Comfort Food by motleyfam, bruce & dick, ~1k Dick struggles to find his appetite in the aftermath of his parents’ deaths.

✦ The meaning of justice by Fleur_de_Violette, bruce & dick & babs & cast, 4.6k As Bruce drives toward Gotham Academy, he tries to imagine all the possible reasons for the principal to call him. He has a lot of imagination. Especially when it comes to bad things happening to Dick. Still, his ward being a suspect for attempted murder hadn’t been on his list.

✦ The Question Game by Santana2, dick & bruce, 1.3k Basketball can be a very enlightening game if you play it right. Little expansion on Robin's part in Downtime

✦ Cat's Eat Birds by Nightwing_DC_2112, dick & bruce & selina & cast, 12k After a run in with the Scarecrow Robin is separated from Batman fighting off the effects of Crane's Fear Toxin when an unlikely ally steps in to prevent him getting into further trouble.

✦ World's Finest Mini Issue: Happy Birthday by WingFeathers, bruce & dick (& minor clark/bruce & alfred), 1.8k Bruce hoped for an emergency to get him out of his birthday party. He just didn’t want Dick to be the one in need of help. BATFAM FIC RECS - ADULT BATSON AND BATDAD ARE MY KRYPTONITE, I FOLD LIKE WET CARDBOARD FOR THEM: ✦ Truth Serum is the Worst by JackHawksmoor, dick & bruce, 3.1k Batman gets dosed with a truth serum and unexpectedly spends most of the time talking about how desperately he loves his children, how awesome they are, and how he wishes he was better at being a father.

✦ Holy Time Travel Fuckery, Batmen by That_One_Curly_Haired_Fangirl, dick & bruce, 4.4k Batman is dead, and Dick has reluctantly taken up the mantle. So then why are there four Batmen, all clearly Bruce, standing in front of him on this rooftop?

✦ The Waking World by Fairy527, dick & bruce, 2.2k This isn’t the first time Dick has gone to Bruce after a nightmare. However, this is the first time his nightmare has involved Bruce's murder at his own hands, and it doesn't settle well.

✦ More Alike Than You'll Ever Admit coffeeandchocolate, dick & bruce, 1.2k Dick Grayson has always been there alongside Batman. So if no one else is going to acknowledge that his first year wearing the cowl was harder, well, he's just going to have to do it himself. After Bruce returns from being lost in time, he and his eldest argue.

✦ Almost, Nearly by CKBookish, dick & bruce & jason & cast, 8.1k Dick was just supposed to go with him to lunch. He wasn't supposed to get shot. He wasn't supposed to be bleeding out in the pouring rain on the steps of Wayne Enterprises. But then Bruce hadn't expected that sniper and he had seen it far to late. BATFAM FIC RECS - EVERYBODY LOVES DICK: ✦ Behind Granite and Lime by JeanjacketCarf, dick & bruce & jason & tim & barbara & cass, 14.5k wip Cassandra had noticed. Of course, she noticed. That was the problem, she couldn’t turn it off. She always had to see, always had to know. So she knew when Dick came back from his mission that something was wrong. Or something is off with Dick. Hopefully, it doesn't have anything to do with those murders.

✦ Soup's On by HoodEx, dick & donna, 2k Taking care of Dick never feels like a burden, it feels like an instinct. And Donna's really good at following her instincts.

✦ to dream away a sleepless night by waffle-wonder (cosmic_croissant), dick & bruce & jason & tim & damian & cass & stephanie & duke, 2.7k Dick was fine. He was fine. Sure, he was having a little trouble focusing on unlocking his apartment door, but that didn’t mean anything. Or- Dick is exhausted. His family catches him when he falls.

✦ Temporary by daringyounggrayson, bruce & dick & alfred & cast, 14.8k The double homicide at Haly’s Circus is not Bruce’s first case involving a child, and while there's no overt indication that Bruce should react differently to this case, he supposes that his previous cases did not involve the witness known as Dick Grayson. On the surface, the Grayson case seems like any other gang case, but the more time Bruce spends with the boy, the more he begins to doubt his own instincts.

✦ To the Moving and the Strange by SilverSkiesAtMidnight, dick & bruce & alfred & tim & cast, 6k Thankfully, Alfred tips his head in acknowledgement. “I do,” he agrees. “I remember a great many things. But I have forgotten things too, and I expect as time goes on, more of them will slip away from me, and it’s entirely possible that I won’t even notice they’re gone. My memories of them will simply be… less.” Dick looks at him, studying the lines of his weathered face. “Does that ever make you feel like... like if you loved them more, you’d remember them?”

✦ better luck nest time by ScarlettSwordMoon, dick & bruce & jason & tim & damian & cass & steph & duke & cast, 47k wip Feeling as if Dick’s family does not appreciate him enough, an alternate Earth version of Babs turns Dick into a bird. Now each member of the Batfamily must confess something to him if they ever want to see Dick as a human again. AKA The tale of a family and their birb.

✦ deep roots (are not reached by the frost) by fanfictiongreenirises, bruce & dick & jason & tim & damian & cass & cast, de-aged!dick, 85.2k wip Dick gets reverted to a younger self after being kidnapped on during a case. But this is far from a routine de-aging.

✦ Bludhaven Police Department by Lady_of_Lorule, bruce & dick & jason & tim & barbara & amy & donna & wally & cast, 31.1k Sgt. Amy Rohrbach learns that her partner, rookie cop Dick Grayson, is not what he seems. Or how Amy finds out that Dick Grayson is the heir to the entire Wayne fortune, the vigilante Nightwing, the leader of the Titans, and meets some of the Batfam and the Titans along the way. BATFAM FIC RECS - DICK AND DAMIAN WERE THE BEST BATMAN & ROBIN, I'M NOT HEARING ARGUMENTS ABOUT THAT EITHER: ✦ Too Many Walls and Not Enough Bridges by CamsthiSky, dick & damian, 3.7k There's something bothering Damian. Dick's determined to help Damian feel comfortable enough to share it.

✦ All The Small Things by Geeves, dick & damian & bruce & cast, 20.1k After Bruce's return to the Bat, Dick and Damian have to deal with just being brothers, but things are just a bit too messy to be that easy BATFAM FIC RECS - BATKIDS ALL HAVE MANY SIBLINGS AND THEY'RE ALL PETTY ASSHOLES AND/OR WONDERFUL BABIES AND I LOVE THEM WITH MY WHOLE BEING: ✦ Do-over by mx_chrx99, dick & jason & todd & damian & steph, 6.2k Jason never really got to do the "family vacation" thing. Neither did Tim, Steph, or Damian. Dick did, but that was ages ago. Now's their chance to make up for lost time.

✦ pick up off the floor by deargalileo, dick & jason & bruce, 3k there was a lump on Bruce's office floor. a Dickwing shaped lump.

✦ the trials and tribulations of fatherhood by InkpotSprite, bruce & dick & jason & tim, 2k Dick, Jason and Tim compete to see who was the worst child. The answer surprises them all. On an unrelated note, Bruce is wondering if adoptions are a lifetime deal, or if they can be undone.

✦ A Time To Reflect by Experimental_Muse, bruce & dick & jason & tim & damian & cass & duke & alfred, time travel, 14.5k Bruce finds himself stuck in the past, and while waiting for the league to pick him up, struggles to get along with his past self. Plus being in a practically empty manor is a bigger adjustment than he'd like to admit. BATFAM FIC RECS - SOMETIMES YOU JUST THINK BRUCE AND DIANA SHOULD KISS IT OUT: ✦ One equal temper of heroic hearts by victoria_p (musesfool), bruce/diana, nsfw, 1.5k Bruce and Diana reconcile at Nanda Parbat.

✦ Thanksgiving at the Kents by starknjarvis, bruce/diana & cast, 8.9k Clark convinces Diana to come to the farm for Thanksgiving, and Diana finally gets the chance to meet Bruce's kids. There are far more of them than she had expected.

✦ Escape Artistry by David Hines (hradzka), bruce/diana & cast, 24.2k Wonder Woman is eager to learn new things. Batman, less so. Primarily JL animated continuity; some comic elements from as far back as the Golden Age. Complete. BATFAM FIC RECS - I WILL DIE ON THE HILL THAT TIM DRAKE'S TRUE LOVE INTEREST IS CONNER KENT AND NOBODY CAN STOP ME, NOT EVEN GOD: ✦ Will you die for (marry) me? by Ididloveyou_once, tim/kon & cassie & bart & cast, 7.8k Tim sacrifices himself on a mission and lives. Conner hates that. They struggle through the aftermath.

✦ A Saturday Evening by malcyon, tim/kon & clark/lois & jonathan kent/martha kent & kara, 13.8k Kon invites Tim over for dinner. Tim's not sure if he should have accepted that invitation.

✦ Sending all my love to you by Paintedqueen, tim/kon, 10.9k wip Conner and Tim get blasted into New Earth where they meet an old friend.

✦ Composed of Us by starlikeknight, tim/kon & bruce & dick & cast, 37.1k wip Or, a spiralling Tim clones a baby without thinking about the consequences. And there are many, many consequences. BATFAM FIC RECS - I SAY THIS IS A BATFAM REC LIST BUT SOMETIMES YOU JUST GOTTA SHOVE THOSE ASSHOLES OUT OF THE WAY AND READ SOME SUPERFIC: ✦ All these things (that I'll never know) by Paintedqueen, conner & clark & kara & jonathan & implied tim/kon & cast, 12.7k Kon-El's journey on what it means to be Kryptonian.

✦ birthday bash by yeeyee123, conner & clark & jon & tim/kon, 11.8k Kon’s pumped that Clark has brought him in to help put together Jon’s 8th birthday party. No really, he is! Just don’t ask him directly about it, or he may need to go leave the room and take a breather. Inhaling helium gas from all those balloons isn’t good for you, you know?

✦ Catching Icarus by Fantasyfire, conner & clark & justice league, 24.8k wip A bad encounter with magic banishes Superboy into another world. Stranded, the Kryptonian clone must deal with a whole new league and a much different Superman.

✦ Nobody's Child by Kizmet, clark & conner & lois & ma kent & pa kent & cast, 18k Superboy is deaged. While Young Justice looks for a cure Batman sticks Clark Kent with babysitting duties. BATFAM FIC RECS - TAKE THE ANGST DIAL, TURN IT UP TO ELEVEN, AND BREAK THE KNOB OFF, THAT'S WHAT I'M HERE FOR: ✦ Adeamus by miss_aphelion, bruce & dick & stephanie & damian & jason & tim & clark & cast, 32k I'll always be there to catch you, Bruce had promised him once. Dick would like to believe it hadn’t been meant as a threat at the time. (or; Bruce takes over Gotham to keep his sons safe, but he’s already trained Dick too well to always protect others first)

✦ Gorgon’s eyes by Fleur_de_Violette, bruce & dick & jason & tim & damian & barbara & cast, 9k Dick will give time to his family. He’s just came back as Nightwing after being undercover in Spyral; he understands that they won’t forgive him immediately. Except, when an encounter with neurotoxin leaves him completely paralyzed, he has no choice but to rely on them.

✦ bad signal by prismatical, bruce & dick & jason & tim & damian & cass & cast, 38.4k The rescue mission went well. Nightwing is safe. Everything should be alright. Right?

✦ And The Crown Will Sing by ScarlettSwordMoon, bruce & dick & jason & tim & damian & barbara & cast, read the tags, 84.7k wip After an encounter with alien technology, Bruce re-evaluates some previously held ideals. Gotham doesn’t need a Knight, she needs a King. Bruce will do whatever it takes to secure his rightful place as ruler of Gotham. He will do whatever it takes to keep his sons by his side. Even if it means breaking them in first. [Dark Bruce Wayne, eventual Dark Batfam]

✦ borderline by TheResurrectionist, bruce & dick & jason & tim & damian & cass & steph, 22.7k wip A mysterious force connects the Batfamily's minds together.

✦ Parting is all we Know of Heaven by Sword_Kallya, dick & bruce & jason & tim & damian & amy, suicidal ideation, 11.9k Three months after Batman returns from the timestream, Dick Grayson has disappeared.

✦ Behind Granite and Lime by JeanjacketCarf, dick & bruce & jason & tim & damian & barbara & cass & cast, read the tags, 18k wip Cassandra had noticed. Of course, she noticed. That was the problem, she couldn’t turn it off. She always had to see, always had to know. So she knew when Dick came back from his mission that something was wrong. Or something is off with Dick. Hopefully, it doesn't have anything to do with those murders.

✦ A Little Out of the Ordinary by dizarys, tim & dick & conner & slade & cast, 1.5k A boot scraped against stone at the same time pain seared through Tim’s chest, radiating from one sharp, jabbing point. With a gasping wheeze, he tried to grab at it. But his arms refused to move.

✦ Override Two: Family Protocol by zombiesbecrazy, dick & bruce & jason & tim & damian & barbara & cass & cast, talon!dick, 78.3k When faced with an impossible and inescapable situation, Dick does the only thing left that he can do to save his family. Surrender himself to the Court of Owls to become their Talon in exchange for their lives.

✦ Weekend Commute by CKBookish, bruce & dick & jason & tim & donna & wally & cast, 7.4k Dick Grayson makes his way home during the first snow fall of the year, when he finds himself confused and cold, miles from home.

✦ What These Hands Have Done by WinterSky101, bruce & dick & jason & tim & damian & cass & steph & alfred & cast, 14k Dick is mind controlled into attacking his family. Unsurprisingly, he takes the whole thing very badly.

✦ birdsong by ScarlettSwordMoon, bruce & dick & jason & tim & damian & steph & cast, 22.7k After getting a face full of Scarecrow’s newest toxin, Dick isn’t haunted by his typical nightmares. No. This one has little green pixie boots. AKA Batman: Ego but make it Robin.

✦ New Krypton by Hawkstout, dick & clark & bruce & cast, read the tags, 15.9k wip Robin is captured by the Kryptonians and put under the care of Kal-El, the man he has known as Superman. Kal-El wants to do his best for Robin and keep the boy safe and healthy. He's fond of him. They were friends once. He hopes that once Robin understands the invasion of his home is for the best that he will grow to see him as a guardian, maybe even as a father. But Robin doesn't need another father. He needs a way to escape.

✦ i was not born to drown by daringyounggrayson, bruce & dick & tim & damian & donna & wally & roy & cast, 25.2k Or: After getting shot by Doctor Hurt, Dick develops chronic migraines.

✦ Running Headlong into My Arms by gleesquid, bruce/selina & dick & jason & tim & damian & barbara & cass & steph & alfred & cast (& some minor pairings), 54.2k Bruce doesn’t like to credit one thing for saving his life, but if he did, it would be Haly’s Circus that Friday night in September, just as summer was beginning to die. (He'll always be a sucker for kids with sad eyes, no parents, and more fight than the world knows what to do with.) Or: in a universe where superheroes don't exist, Bruce Wayne finds his family.

✦ Waking In The Night Light by I_Have_To_Get_Off_This_Planet, bruce & dick & jason & tim & cass, 7.1k Aside from the soft pitter-pattering of rain against the window, it’s quiet in the room. Tranquil, Bruce thinks. Or at least, as tranquil as a hospital room can get. BATFAM FIC RECS - THROW BABY DICK AT BATTISON, C'MON DO IT, IT'LL BE HILARIOUS: ✦ take these broken wings and learn to fly by fishingclocks, dick & bruce & alfred, 49.2k wip or, How Dick Grayson Burrowed His Way Inextricably into the Heart of Bruce Wayne

✦ A Bat and his Birds by SalParadiseLost, bruce & dick & jason & tim, 3.1k Bruce Wayne adopts a child on impulse... and then another... and then another. He doesn't know what he's doing, but somehow it doesn't end up too bad except for the fact that his kids think he's a vampire.

#lumi.txt #dc #batfam #bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #barbara gordon #cassandra cain #conner kent #clark kent #timkon #wonderbat #fic recs #batman fic recs #long post

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suzukiblu · 11 days

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WIP excerpt for tabetharasa behind the cut; alpha Jazz, a dark alley, and a very pretty omega. ( + non-chrono link for mobile users )

Jazz has no idea why Red Hood thinks he smells anything but delicious, but there’s a very reckless and dubiously-ethical part of her that would be willing to prove it to him. Not that she would, obviously, because that would be, again, incredibly unethical and highly inappropriate and also a total dick move.

She just could, that’s all. Just if it came up or whatever.

“Well, it’s not,” she says, mildly put out by whatever’s going on here, and Red Hood growls. His scent blockers continue to be useless. Just–absolutely useless, yes.

Ancients, he smells so good. What is she even supposed to do about how good this omega smells?

Maybe offer to walk him home, or at least offer him her jacket so he has enough alpha scent on him that no one bothers him on his way back to his den. Although he’s a crime lord–or a vigilante? one or the other, whatever–who’s built like a truck, so that probably isn’t really a concern, she supposes.

Then again, some people seriously do have no sense of decorum.

Or survival instincts.

“Shut the fuck up!” Red Hood snaps. Jazz frowns. That seems like a disproportionate amount of anger in his tone. Maybe he's sensitive about his pheromones. Well, if people have been telling him he smells like death . . .

Though “death” doesn't necessarily smell bad, in Jazz's opinion.

Admittedly, that's a liminal's opinion and besides the point anyway. But still.

“Alright,” she says. “But can you get to your den safely? Or . . . somewhere you can den down, anyway, I don't know. I assume you have a headquarters or a safehouse or two, something like that. Or at least can afford a heat hotel or know a decent clinic.”

Red Hood hisses at her. It crackles through his modulator, but the sound of it still makes her jeans a little . . . uncomfortable, she'll just say. Sue her, she likes omegas with a bite to them. Johnny 13 definitely didn't win her over by being the sweet and polite type; he won her over by being a blunt asshole in a leather jacket who'd convinced her that he was a sincere and straight-up person.

She wonders how “sincere” the average Gotham crime boss really is, but it’s a little difficult to concentrate on that question with the scent of old books and burning cedar filling up her nose. And also that note of lilac. That note of lilac is a problem.

A serious problem.

“I realize heat drop is probably imminent and you must be uncomfortable, but it’s a valid concern on my part, given your condition,” she says, which normally she’d make sound politely disapproving but really can’t make sound any kind of disapproving right now. Again: the lilac. “So can you?”

“Fuck makes you think I'd let you anywhere near my den?” Red Hood snarls. Jazz blinks; tilts her head.

“Nothing,” she says. “What makes you think I was asking to go anywhere near it?”

Red Hood–stalls, briefly. Jazz tries to be polite about how incredibly obvious a tell that statement was.

Flattering, but incredibly obvious.

“I mean, I'd be happy to escort you if you’d like,” she says. “Or lend you my scent, if you need it. But I'm not trying to presume anything.”

“Fuck off,” Red Hood snarls. “Nobody escorts an omega like me.”

“Do you think maybe you have some self-esteem issues?” Jazz asks. Heat is almost definitely making him a bit more volatile and emotional than normal, considering the kinds of things he’s been saying to her, but it still seems like a valid question. Being on their cycle doesn’t make people different people; just makes it a bit harder for them to censor and control themselves.

Or a lot harder, sometimes.

Judging by how strong Red Hood’s pheromones smell right now . . .

Well, he might be having a harder time than he’s used to having, so far as “controlling himself” goes.

Jazz certainly is, all inappropriate knotheaded puns aside.

Do Poison Ivy’s pollens make cycles hit harder, actually? Or does the suddenness of the effect disorient or throw people off, maybe?

Well, that’s a worrying thought, since Red Hood seems to be out here alone.

“‘Self-esteem issues’?” Red Hood repeats incredulously, his pheromones briefly sparking with bewilderment. Jazz decides not to press it, since he might be feeling a little vulnerable right now.

“Yes,” she says. “Is there someone you can call, if you don’t want an escort or to borrow my scent? I could wait with you until they show. No offense, just Park Row’s not a very nice neighborhood.”

Red Hood laughs.

“No fucking shit!” he says, spreading his arms. “It’s Crime Alley!”

“I know, sorry, I just keep accidentally calling it ‘Park Row’ in my head. Still new in town,” Jazz apologizes. She assumes a crime lord would prefer his territory be correctly referred to, anyway. Seems like a thing. She knows standard humans don’t actually have haunts–even most liminal ones don’t, including her–but sometimes she does . . . well, not forget, exactly, but just . . . expect them to anyway, she supposes?

She spent way too long in Amity, yes.

Even without Crime Alley being Red Hood’s actual haunt, though, it’s still disrespectful to call it the wrong name. It’s still his territory either way, and she imagines someone on their cycle especially wouldn’t appreciate the mistake.

“What is your damage?” Red Hood snarls, his voice modulator crackling threateningly as he visibly bristles, and Jazz catches notes of that electric and unexpected edge in his pheromones again. Still vaguely familiar, but still not quite what it seems like it should be. Just . . .

Really, if she didn’t know better . . . well, she’d think he was liminal. But that seems like a very unlikely coincidence for her first week in Gotham, so . . .

Then again, her life is her life.

It’s not really the time to be asking Red Hood about his levels of ecto exposure, though, and she’s pretty sure they’ve both got more important priorities right now.

“We don’t really have time to unpack all that, to be honest. You really do need to get home,” she says. “Or at least call someone to pick you up. If you go into heat drop alone in Crime Alley, I can’t imagine it’s going to end well.”

Red Hood hisses. That might’ve sounded like a threat, Jazz realizes belatedly.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” she says, apologetic again. “But it’s not safe, is it?”

“If anyone I don’t want near my ass tries to touch me, I’ll put a bullet up theirs,” Red Hood growls, low and crackling.

“That seems like a lot of trouble when you’re on your cycle, though,” Jazz says. He’d have a body to deal with, and maybe someone would call the cops–well, she supposes it is Crime Alley, so maybe not . . .? But it’d be self-defense anyway, and if he is a crime lord, maybe he has people for that.

Hm.

She really needs to get familiar with this area as soon as possible, yeah. And just Gotham in general, really. Every city has its own idiosyncrasies, but Gotham is its idiosyncrasies.

Well, so is Amity Park, of course.

“I think you belong in Arkham, lady,” Red Hood says. Jazz feels like a Gothamite should be more understanding of someone taking supervillain attack side effects and hostile heated-up crime lords in stride, but apparently not.

“Technically, you’re not wrong,” she says with a wry smile. She’d offer him a handshake, but that’s not really appropriate for an alpha to offer to an omega in heat. Especially not an unmated alpha, which Jazz very definitely is. “I start Monday. Jazz Fenton, psychiatric intern. At your service.”

Red Hood manages to very clearly stare at her without actually taking off the helmet. It's actually an impressive amount of expressiveness to get across, under the circumstances.

Or there could be a touch of liminal empathy happening, admittedly. That's possible too. Especially with another liminal involved.

Jazz briefly considers what knotting a liminal omega might actually be like if an empathy loop got established somewhere in the process, which is a lie, because what she’s actually imagining is picking up this liminal omega and showing him exactly how delicious she thinks he smells.

Definitely inappropriate.

“They will literally eat you alive,” Red Hood says.

“I mean, there’s a risk of it,” Jazz allows, because nothing is a perfect guarantee. It’s just not a very large risk. Comparatively, she means.

“You applied to Arkham on purpose, lady?” Red Hood says disbelievingly.

“Oh, no,” Jazz says, shaking her head. “They made me an offer. Somebody read my thesis and liked it, apparently.”

Well . . . “thought we should interview you for either a position or to have your file established for whenever the convictions start rolling in”, whichever. The interviewing psychiatrists had a range of reactions during her interview, she supposes is the best way to put it.

Jazz really doesn’t think it’s fair to classify her parents as actual supervillains, but an increasingly long list of professionals has, admittedly, not agreed with that assessment.

She can’t imagine what they would’ve thought if she’d told them about Danny, considering.

Well, it’s not her problem if someone else is going to be close-minded about things like that.

“I’m sorry, I’m really not trying to be pushy here, but are you sure you don’t want to call anyone? Or want my scent. Or . . . literally anything,” she says, gesturing a little awkwardly with her shopping bags. “I do get told my pheromones are pretty discouraging to unwanted attention, if that helps?”

“Sure they are,” Red Hood snorts. Jazz tries not to look disapproving, given his compromised state. That kind of thing can bother omegas in heat, she knows.

“That’s what people tell me,” is all she says. Obviously it’s not just the default parts of her scent that make it a strong deterrent, but as for the force of the emotions and claim she can put into it . . .

Well. She just hears it’s “discouraging” to other alphas pretty regularly, that’s all. And also some betas, depending on their sexuality. And, um . . . well, a little closer to “catnip”, for omegas, but . . .

“I’ll believe it when I smell it, knothead,” Red Hood snorts again. “Prove it.”

Jazz isn’t sure that’s a good idea, considering–again–his compromised state, but, well . . . he’s clearly a strong omega himself, and maybe she’s a little miffed by him just assuming she’s lying about something like that, that’s all. She knows plenty of alphas do lie about their pheromones or even lay on fake ones, but . . . well, it’s hard not to wonder if he just thinks she’s a lesser alpha because she’s female, or because of how she’s dressed or looks or speaks, or just because.

Her inner alpha doesn’t love the experience of one of the most gorgeous-smelling omegas she’s ever scented sneering at her worth as an alpha without even giving her a shot to prove it, either way.

“Are you sure?” she asks.

#dpxdc #anger management ship #hardcover ship #wip: alpha jazz and a dark alley #tabetharasa #omegaverse

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jimblejamblewritings · 3 days

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love letters and second sons | part 1.

Summary: The princess is finally ready to debut in society. But before she does, she decides to disguise herself and see the true faces of the ton.

Author's Note: Hello! Yes, I'm here with a wip before finishing my other stuff. The Bridgerton girlies have got me. Congratulations to you all. So before you read this, please read: I Hate Accidents by @i-hate-accidents AND Over The Garden Wall by @homeofthepeculiar AND The Ultimate Deception by @maximoff-pan. These stories are some of my favorites and really inspired this fic.

Warnings for the Series: light sexism in line with the times, light classism in line with the times, mental health stigma, shitty doctor care, smut, suicide attempt (will get it's own warning when the time comes),

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x princess!reader

Word Count: 5.4k

Author's Note: To those who have read my other works, you'll notice that the author Mercutio's stories are something special

My Dearest Ton and Wonderful United Kingdom,

I am pleased to welcome you all to the start of another social season. Of course, people love and look for love all year round but each year the season just seems to invite love to blossom. I hope all of you find the match to your souls. Marriage is a business but can it not have love as well? A business built with love surely must be a business that tries to last. I ask our respectful citizens and subjects of the United Kingdom to make love a part of their search.

I would also like to ask about businesses that do not involve marriage or love. How are you? In the business of health, is everyone safe from all sickness? In the business of finance, does everyone have enough to eat and clothe themselves without falling into poverty? Are businesses afloat even if only by a small margin? How are you? Truly, I want to know. If you would like to write to me, please do so. The royal mailboxes should still be in perfect condition.

Of course, if you have something urgent then I am sorry but you must come to the palace and request an audience. My valets hold all letters for a day or a few out of safety for everyone. But rest assured, I read every letter once received.

I would also like to say that I can feel the winds of the ton calling me to grace their presence and to stop being rude by ignoring them. Naturally, the wind is very rude to say this and then cut through my dress and chill my bones even when it is snowing. But I digress, the wind is right. The time for introduction must be soon. And a lovely time that will be. I cannot wait to meet you all.

Yours truly,

A Not So Young Anymore Youngest Princess Y/N Hanover (Truly, I need a proper surname and not just the name of my father’s house)

My Dearest Ton and Wonderful United Kingdom,

Would you like to know what I have learned yesterday? I know the Americas are still a touchy subject for some but I hope you don’t mind me talking about it, just to share my studies. Philadelphia is the center of American debate. So many great men (and women that have probably gone unnamed but aided their counterparts in their quest of education) have lived and are currently still living there.

Going to America simply for a debate sounds terribly dreadful. But what if we had one here that wasn’t relegated to just the universities. An entire city becoming a center of debate seems incredibly foolish, not to mention disruptive to its current residents, but buildings of debate do not seem like a bad idea.

Even if some feel like they aren’t smart enough, they should participate. Ideas are nurtured by sharing them. May some debates lead to great compromise and understanding and maybe even propositions for laws.

I, for one, debate with my father every day on which science is the most important to teach to young children and which science can wait until university should they like to pursue that path. He believes all of it. I believe that medicinal science is too much for a young mind and they only need to be taught how to mind their health until they can understand better. What do you think? I am delighted to hear your opinions. Maybe mine will be swayed.

Yours Truly,

Youngest Princess Y/N Buckingham (I am trying out new surnames until one I like sticks)

My Dearest Ton and Wonderful United Kingdom,

I apologize if my stance may be radical but nothing in society ever got done if the start wasn’t a little radical. I believe that young women should be properly taught about relations… let me just say it, sex. Not when they are children, no, but when they are about to debut. Consider it. You all know that as a royal, despite being a woman, I have been taught all things. Everyone is aware that I know what sex is. But if I and my sisters were taught sex so that we may be aware of malicious advances and be able to protect our virtue first rather than waiting for our virtues to be saved by someone and risk them being too late, then others should as well. Therefore, I implore all mothers and governesses to teach their young ladies about to debut what sex is. And to fathers who may be without wives, please find any woman to teach your daughters.

I shall return with more radical ideas for a better and more prosperous United Kingdom.

Yours truly,

Youngest Princes Y/N Kew

The printed letters delivered to London, had everyone enthralled in the early morning. Some people that lived close enough to the central town square didn’t bother with the prints and went straight to the wooden pin board there to look at the princess’ handwriting on the original letters. Whenever the Young Princess or the author Mercutio Quick wrote, people stopped and paid attention.

Princess Y/N was the people’s princess. The one who listened to their complaints and wasn’t cheap on her charitable acts. She was so much like her father, Farmer George. Even with his illness he still ran a good country… when he was in charge. So much better than her eldest brother, George IV. Then again, any royal sibling was better than their eldest brother, even if only by a very small percentage. Everyday the public hoped another child would challenge George the Younger. They would rally their support behind them.

They were hoping that any day George IV’s daughter, Charlotte, would have an heir. If she was pregnant then it would be so easy for the public to support her and convince either George IV to step down or convince Parliament to present a motion to King George. They would have a ruler and an heir. Charlotte the Younger would be the easiest transition for George IV to understand.

But neither her father nor husband seemed to care about the lack of heir. But the thought of succession and coups and duels was forgotten for a moment to read the Young Princess’ letters welcoming them to the new social season with new balls, debutantes, and drama.

In the Bridgerton house, the family ran around like chickens with their heads cut off. They were trying to get ready to present Daphne to the Queen while also trying to read the Young Princess’ letters. Benedict laughed as he slapped his copy of the letters.

“Mother would have a fit if she had to speak with Daphne about sex.”

“I’m surprised she would even suggest such a thing,” Colin said as he returned to reading the first letter, thinking he might actually write to the Young Princess about his familial concerns and wanting to travel desperately but being unsure about leaving them.

Eloise finally smiled as she came downstairs with the rest of her siblings. “I for one think it’s rather refreshing. She is right. Our mamas should be teaching us more than just how to meet the Queen… Daphne! You must make haste! Do you think she heard me?”

Colin rolled his eyes. “She most certainly did. But on the matter of the princess, what is wrong with a woman’s husband teaching her about sex?”

“Everything is wrong with that.”

“Hmm.”

He looked down to reread the paper, wondering if he could understand what the princess actually meant. Even though the letters were left at home, talk of the princess never ceased. How could it? The monarchy’s youngest princess might actually be joining them. Everyone wanted to know what she would look like, not in the face of course. Even her fourth brother didn’t take off his mask until after five months of being introduced to society and he was the shortest time it took to see the royal children’s face.

“Do you think she will be tall like her eldest sister or short? Plump?” Eloise asked as their carriages started their way towards the palace. “I’d imagine I’d be very lovely and plump if I could be stuck in a palace all day with the most wonderful food imaginable. Not that anyone should ever value a woman based on her body but Penelope has stated that her sisters are terribly upset because all the dress makers have started saying that plump is going to be in fashion once again in only a few years time and by the time they become plump it’ll be out of fashion again.”

Daphne looked out the window. “I wonder if she’ll look like the Queen or the King. Oh, what makeup do you think she’ll wear? What mask did she have created for herself? When do you think we’ll actually see her face?”

Violet touched the knees of all her girls. “Whatever she is like, do not be rude and gawk. The poor thing will already have the vultures’ eyes on her all night. If she even comes out tonight. Perhaps it will be at a ball this week. That would be quite a fantastic introduction. I do hope she at least meets us this season.”

Francesca smiled. “I imagine her dance card would be quite full.”

“She’d have bracelets of dance cards going up to her arm,” Daphne agreed.

“But she isn’t coming into society yet. She’s just introducing herself to us,” Eloise said.

“She’s still a princess royal. A very well-known one at that. There’s no way the men would pass on an opportunity to dance with her. They’d want to start making their intentions known now, get ahead of everyone else.”

The boys’ carriage was speaking of a different matter entirely. The princess and Mercutio had written to the ton at the same time. With the presentation to the Queen taking up so much of the day, most people wouldn’t be able to read his work until later that evening. Colin and Benedict simply couldn’t wait. Colin sat with his brother as he drove the carriage and read the story out loud:

“Arsehole,” Cecilia muttered.

Ignoring the sharp stinging of her backside, she hopped off the bed to find something to put on. All she needed to accomplish was getting back to her room, clothed. She knew there must have been some spare clothes in their dressers. It was just a matter of sorting through which garments were hers and which belonged to the others. She had been sorely mistaken to ignore the three members of nobility behind her, thinking they hadn’t heard her.

Lovell scrunched up his face, resembling a rat. “Is receiving another punishment something you really care for? Because this attitude you’ve acquired is going to earn you one.”

“Piss off.”

“Is that any way to talk to your dominants?” Madison asked, adjusting herself in Tommy’s arms.

Cecilia scoffed as she walked towards the door, placing one hand on the doorknob. “Lavender.”

The other three faces fell at the use of that forbidden word. Cecilia’s hand reached up ever so gently and wiped away tears. She wondered if the tears were for her former lovers or for finally realizing her mind was deluded to think she would be with anyone above her station such as Lovell.

“I don’t want this anymore.”

“Cecilia.”

“You never believe that I don’t enjoy breaking our established rules. You only listen to Madison.”

“Cecilia.”

“It is clear you both like her more than you desire me. I am down.”

“Cecilia.”

“You shall see me around this manor, doing my job as I always have. But that is the extent of our relationship.”

“Please, just give u—”

“Good day, Lord Parham. Lord Newall, Lady Wilcher.”

“Riveting,” Colin said as he finished reading. “Mr. Mercutio has done it again.”

Benedict nodded. “Indeed he has. I was a bit worried when he announced that he wanted to dabble in the themes of erotic pleasures in his stories but this was just as enjoyable as all the others.”

“Agree… Oh, it says here that they have earned a publishing deal. The penny stories will still come out once a week, chapter by chapter but readers can also purchase a book if they would like to keep the story properly or are in a rush to read it. I for one will be buying the books.”

“I second that.”

“I wonder what his next story will be about. Actually, no, I wonder what our dear sisters and mothers can be talking about.”

“The princess, no doubt.”

”Do you think any of our brothers will approach?” Eloise asked in the women’s carriage, more to herself than anything.

That made Hyacinth’s face light up. “If one of them marries the princess does that mean we get to be princesses too?”

“As if any of our brothers even could or want to.” Francesca pulled her face away from the window.

“If anyone is going to bring them to the marriage mart,” Daphne started as she fanned herself. “It would be the princess. Anthony would be a good match for her.”

Violet laughed, thinking of the idea. “A viscount and a princess are a perfect match.”

All talk of the princess stopped as they approached. The worst thing that could happen could be a footman overhearing them and mistaking their speech for malicious gossip rather than light-natured and report it to the princess or the queen or even worse, King George himself. They would forever be ostracized from society.

From upstairs, you watched from a window where you knew no one could see you even if they looked up. How you desperately wanted to be down there. All the men were dressed up and looking like penguins. Handsome they were but still penguin-like in silhouette. And the women’s dresses. Some, while upper class, were of a lower social standing and wore older dresses that looked just as gorgeous as the empire and rather shapeless dresses of today.

But today was not your day. You actually weren’t sure when your day would be. Your mother and father let their children choose when they would be introduced to society. Of course you all had to wait for a certain age and it had to be a date at the start of the social season but you could pick the day. And unlike your last sibling, you wanted it to be at a ball instead of the selection of the Diamonds. You didn’t even care which ball it would be. Perhaps it was selfish but you did want a day all to yourself or at least a day with you as the main focus. But that wasn’t this year. Or any year perhaps.

You were excited to finally leave the walls of the palace if you were allowed, having proven yourself capable of not causing an incident. Unfortunately, you couldn’t say you had proven yourself without illness. You weren’t that lucky. You and all your siblings were locked inside until the royal physicians could observe and confirm that you weren’t sick with whatever madness your father had. They didn’t have to observe you. That was also why you picked a ball instead of today. You wanted to prove you didn’t need a chaperone literally holding your elbow. You wanted freedom like your siblings. Freedom to explore that you weren’t sure would get because of your illness.

After a nearly fatal drowning in the lake — an event your siblings still get chewed out for at least once a month — you started showing symptoms like George did. For you it wasn’t about if you would be as sick like your father. It was about how bad and how quickly the illness would get.

You didn’t get to see George as often as the others. The doctors thought you shouldn’t be around him for prolonged periods of time unless it was after an episode. They thought that too much exposure would make you more like him instead of better. They wanted to send him to Kew but you promised that you wouldn’t go to his quarters as long as he got to stay at Buckingham.

Charlotte, silly as it may have been, had hope. They caught your sickness early. Nine was a very young age to almost go mad. Maybe you could be saved from a cruel fate unlike George. They were too late for him but not for you. Of course this only brought jealousy from your siblings who didn’t feel like they got as much affection anymore. Every time you even twitched, it became about you. They could never hate you. It wasn’t like you asked to be sick. But it was hard to be around you. Everyday visits became once a week. Still, you cherished those visits. Like the one yesterday. They expressed their sympathies and hopefulness that you would get to introduce yourself and maybe it could even be this year or maybe this month.

You could have scoffed. After what you did just two days ago, you were unsure. The daylight came into your room before you were prepared for it and you had been convinced that Buckingham was on fire. You couldn’t be calmed down until you jumped into the water fully clothed. Immediately, you pulled yourself out of the trance but no one really cared. The royal physician had been called anyway and you had ruined all chances of attending the presentation to the Queen.

“Your Highness!” a voice disturbed your thoughts and your eyes from looking at your siblings’ carriages leave in the morning. Your lady-in-waiting approached you with a paper, an entire pamphlet. “It’s already spread through the ton like a fire. We haven’t read it yet. We figured new literature would be a treat for you.”

“Thank you, Pandora. Shall we read it in the kitchens this morning when we return home?”

“Not your room?”

“I’m so terribly sick of my room and the washroom and the balcony and the bedroom.”

“You are getting restless.”

“It’s only a matter of time. Maybe even tomorrow it’ll happen. And soon it will only be a couple of years at most before the mask is gone. By the way,” you said as the two started to leave. “Did you hear about the Feather girl that fainted? Is she alright?”

“Oh yes, she’s fine.”

“Good. Have someone send flowers to her tomorrow with an inquiry about her wellbeing after taking such a tumble. Oh and no flowers to the Diamond. I want to meet her myself one day. Now, let’s read about this… Lady Whistledown. She already sounds like an interesting woman.”

Interesting it was indeed. The maids and kitchen staff hung onto your every word as you read the pamphlet. You weren’t exactly sure how you felt about the pamphlet yet but Pandora was right about one thing. It was literature. Lady Whistledown seemed bold enough to list subjects by name. By their entire name as if she wasn’t afraid of any repercussions. You supposed she wouldn’t be since Whistledown was obviously not her real name.

It wasn’t the subject of what she published that bothered you. A lot of it was standard gossip that goes around during the social season but it was her personal opinion. She almost seemed to want the ladies she wrote about to have miserable ends like inquiring about Daphne Bridergton’s flame burning out quickly. The lady must know that what she published could ruin a reputation. Gossip is no longer gossip when publicly written down. It has the potential to become fact.

You slapped the pamphlet against your hand. “Well, I suppose Mercutio Quick from York will no longer be the entertainment of the ton. Sad, and right as I earned a publishing deal too. Perhaps, I should take up a different art. Like making dresses for all my days or learning to play the harp and cello properly so it sounds better than a dying whale according to my brothers.”

The cook shook his head. “Your stories are very entertaining. Even Lady Whistledown couldn’t stop that.”

“Thank you for saying that. I am rather jealous that she is penning under a woman.”

“But you have chosen a name based on your favorite characters, have you not?”

“I have but maybe I should’ve chosen better. This Lady Whistledown might be making more change for women then I hope to accomplish.”

At this, the staff scoffed. Pandora cleaned up your dishes from the kitchen island in front of you.

“Your Highness, with the utmost respect, you are the one who is going to do more for women than this Whistledown. Everybody already wants someone other than your kind brother on the throne. They’re all praying your niece gives them any child so they may protest for her with the added benefit of an heir. They love her and what you write about in your letters make her seem even better. Hell, they love you and they don’t even know you. They listen to you. And with your words, Princess Charlotte the Younger will be on the throne and you will prove women are more than capable of whatever and we might have real change. Is she still on board?”

“Yes. She hates her father as much as anyone else does. George is nice once you get to know him… sort of. But Lettie approves as long as I agree to be in her court. I said yes of course.”

“Then it is settled. Thank God we might actually get change in our wretched lives. Now you must wash up and oversee the Bridgerton gowns before they are sent off. Shall we pick certain ones from your wardrobe?”

“Give the Diamond the one with lace and her family’s colors. Pick whatever you want for the rest of them. Oh and patterns must be on the Feather mother’s dress. I noticed she wears the most ill-favored ornamented dresses but she seems to like them. And put in an order with the modiste, I should like to do this often if this first gesture goes well and the gift wardrobe will need more clothes than it has at present. Clothes for the lower classes as well, nothing that could get them attacked and the clothes stolen off their bodies.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“And, by the way, I already washed up.”

“Yes, but now you’ve been sitting amongst smoke and smells.”

You gave up your fight and nodded as you jumped down from your stool and began the walk to your room. No one was around today. They wouldn’t be for most of the social season as they had other duties, including watching your siblings. Despite your madness, you weren’t the biggest concern at all. It was your rakish brothers in brothels, your sisters constantly leaving their husbands or suitors, and all of them sneaking away. You paused for a moment before walking quicker until you reached your room.

Why couldn’t you sneak out? Now would be the perfect opportunity. And no one was looking for you. It would be so easy to scale the vines up the garden wall and just have fun for a moment. You washed up quickly and put on a very simple dress — one more like the style of today rather than your father’s time. Grabbing a cloak and your mask, you put them down on the bed before sitting down at your writing desk to pen a letter. The slam of the door nearly made you jump out of your skin. You calmed as you realized it was just Pandora.

“Oh, good. It is just you.”

“I have the Bridgerton and Featherington dresses but what do you mean it is just me, Y/N?”

You stood up, abandoning the letter now that someone was around. “I am going out to see the ton.”

“What?”

“It is still dark. I have a map, my cloak, and the mask. And I have a very clear destination with vehicles that will get me back in the most discreet of ways should I need to use them.”

“Your Highness.”

“Pandora. I am nearing my introduction to society. You will all have to let me go at some point. I know everyone cares for my wellbeing but my happiness is gone. I am seen as nothing but my illness. Before I have an episode in public like the king, let me meet the ton. Let me not be Farmer Y/N for a brief moment of my life before I am a farmer forever, before I stay in that garden just like Father.”

Pandora’s mouth shut. She simply locked the door and unlocked the window. “You must return before your midmorning promenade and snack. Since you ate downstairs, I can convince them to overlook your absence of a breakfast request. And don’t take your mask. It’s better if they don’t know who you are at all.”

She gasped as you hugged her.

“Thank you, Pandora! Thank you! You are truly the bestest friend a woman could have.”

“Just go so you can come back quickly and I can have my sanity back.”

You closed the window, shocking Pandora as you pulled a picture frame off the wall to reveal a staircase that led outside. The door was hidden behind the trellis covered in vines and flowers. You pulled the hood over the cloak over you. The last thing you did was check for your bracelet and if your papers were inside. Until you were introduced to society, all the royal children had bracelets that couldn’t come off unless cut off. There were just in case measures with the eldest two but became necessary after so many nights sneaking out. The bracelet wasn’t going anywhere but you didn’t want to lose your birth certificate. It was your first safety measure. Even if you were kidnapped or harmed, you’d be returned to the palace for a pretty penny. You did pull your sleeves down so your bracelet wouldn’t be noticed.

You couldn’t contain your smile at the excitement of being out. London was so different without all the noise. The brothels and pubs were starting to close down for their few hours of rest and relaxation. You stuck to streets where you could see all the action but wouldn’t be easily spotted. No one bothered you until you arrived at your destination.

The footman stood to attention. “May I help you?”

“Yes, hello. I bring a package from Buckingham House for the Bridgertons, courtesy of Princess Y/N.” You handed him a letter with your official stamp at the end of it.

The footman’s eyes went wide as he handed you back the letter and ran inside. The Bridgertons looked up at the frantic knocking, pulling slips over Hyacinth and Daphne before telling the footman he could enter. The Bridgerton boys came upstairs after hearing the heavy pounding of their employee’s footsteps running up the multiple stairs.

“Is there a problem, Marshall?”

He panted before taking in a deep breath. “The Young Princess’ lady-in-waiting is here, bearing gifts.”

“WHAT?!”

The Bridgertons collectively yelled before the scramble happened. You tilted your head when you saw the windows open and a maid shake out some bedsheets. She squeaked when she looked down to see you. You laughed as she ran back inside. It couldn’t have been more than five minutes before you were escorted into the house by a very out of breath footman. The Bridgertons stood on the steps at the end of their entrance hall in chronological order with their mother starting the line at the very bottom step. Nervous smiles graced their faces when you finally reached them. You curtsied to which they curtsied or bowed back.

You gave them a second to assess you before speaking. Even though it wasn’t true in the slightest, everyone thought the ladies-in-waiting and manservants were reflections of the royals themselves. Not in character or value but in appearance. They figured they could form some sort of picture as to what the young masked royals looked like. If you were ugly then surely the princess was too. You hoped they at least found you to be average looking in appearance.

Anthony Bridgerton — the new head of house from what you remembered of your studies — stepped from behind his mother to greet you formally. He bowed once again, deeper, before offering up his hand. You settled yours in it to receive a chaste kiss.

“To what do we owe this sudden pleasure, Mrs…”

“Keaton,” you lied, just using Pandora’s last name.

“Mrs. Keaton?” He didn’t recognize the name as one belonging to an upper class member of the ton. He wasn’t sure he recognized the name at all.

“Apologies, I should explain. The princess doesn’t distinguish in her court, we are all there to work. All women are ladies-in-waitings, all men are valets. Regardless of station, regardless of marriage.”

“So, I am to take it that my earlier statement was incorrect.”

You nodded. “Simply Miss Keaton.”

“Well that sounds like very forward thinking actually. All the same, it is our pleasure to meet anyone in her highness’ court.”

Violet smiled as she watched the interaction. If her son was close to anyone in the princess’ court, especially someone that seemed so close to the princess as to be sent here, then he would be able to meet the princess with good graces. He’d be ahead of any man by leagues.

“Princess Y/N has sent me on her behalf. She extends warm greetings to the Bridgertons and the Featheringtons whom I will meet after our encounter. The princess congratulates Miss Daphne Bridgerton for earning Diamond of the Season as well as congratulations to the Dowager Viscountess for raising such a fine woman and to Viscount Bridgerton for chaperoning and keeping the family together therefore allowing his sister to shine.”

He cleared his throat and started to smile. “Please give the princess all of our thanks for the most kind of compliments.”

“And she would like to assure Miss Bridgerton that I have not been sent on behalf of any princes. Her brothers will not be bothering you today.”

They all chuckled when you laughed.

You set the first box down on the table next to you and opened it. “The princess has brought new dresses for the ball. The Diamond and the rest of her family should have the opportunity to shine with the utmost and wholehearted respect and support of the Crown. Please, enjoy them.”

The family ran to the table, picking out dresses and suits and matching them to the person’s name on the paper pinned to each garment. They kept singing praises and admiring the outfits. Violet turned back to you.

“When are you planning on visiting the Featheringtons?”

“In an hour or so, I must be back before the princess’ morning promenade. She has a very busy day afterwards.”

“Will the princess be introducing herself this season?”

“Hyacinth!” Anthony and Violet yelled at the same time.

You laughed. “It is no trouble. I’m at liberty to answer as the princess’ head valet.”

“Valet? I thought you said they were all men. They are usually all men.”

“If the princess should become heir to the throne then she will receive a male valet alongside me. For now, it is just me. The Crown believes someone of the same gender should always be with her should she need to confide in someone about very personal matters.” You took a breath before testing the waters. “Such as affections of the heart.”

It had dawned on you in that moment that you could spy on the ton. When the time came, you would still have to dance with all the bachelors of the United Kingdom but you at least you would have a better picture of them. You’d have to apologize to Pandora for the countless strokes she was about to earn from you but you couldn’t make this your only time sneaking out.

Violet smiled, knowing she was right. “Well, would you like to stay for breakfast?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“It would be no trouble at all. We have more than enough room. Eloise, dear, if Penelope is to come over please request that she do so now.”

(part 2)

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@venomsvl @peaches-n-sunscreen @summerellaz @supernaturallover2002 @sambucky8 @9daykrisr @thebitchinleo @23victoria @scarlets-widow @pagetpagetpagetpaget @lovexnatasha @awesomebooklover17 @1234-angelika @imatrisk @blackreaderatrisk @princess-jules47 @alexloveskili @a-marie-a @siriuslysirius1107 @i-have-no-life-charlie @daykrisr999

#benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #benedict x reader #benedict bridgerton x princess!reader #benedict fluff #bridgerton fluff #fic

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morallyinept · 1 month

Text

For anyone who needs to hear this today...

Dieter and I are just weighing in on some of the conversations floating around where people are feeling like they're not wanted here, or who feel like they might want to leave...

You ARE absolutely wanted here.

Whether you're a creator, reader, silent lurker. It doesn't matter if you have 1 follower or 10k. Whether you write one chapter every few weeks, or churn out fics on the daily.

This is a fandom, not a competition.

You. Are. All. Wanted. Here.

Tumblr, for want of a better analogy, is a crap factory of a website. 😝 It's gone down the pan in the last decade massively, and it's the complete opposite of what other social media platforms do, (in terms of likes and algorithims etc... you have to re-blog everything - not like it - here to get any traction) you get out of Tumblr what you put in, effectively.

No-one here is better than anyone else, we're all part of that big Pedro table and continuously squish up to make room for everyone. And if anyone isn't doing that, then they should be the one's to leave, not you.

I get it. I feel it too. I've contemplated leaving several times. Yeah. It's a hard place sometimes to try and make a tiny space of it your own.

☝🏻But remember, even the biggest blogs on here started off with zero followers and had to build their niche from scratch. Rome wasn't built in a day.

It takes time and effort. It might look like it's easy for others, but it really isn't. And I'm in no way a "big blog" in the slightest.

But I stay here doing my own thing, because ultimately, I love writing and creating - it makes me happy, and I love the sense of community here.

I get immense joy out of making my silly banners and posts, and having a giggle with like-minded people when Pedro shaves his beard off (🫠). I ignore the drama and focus on having a positive time here.

But I get that doesn't work for everybody. Sometimes it's hard to tune all the fuzz out, right? It's massively overwhelming some days on here - I feel ya, bub.

The level of talent in this fandom is incredible, but it often leaves you feeling like "where do I begin?" Or "who do I talk to?" And "how do I talk to someone without coming across as weird?" And "how the hell do I re-blog everything and reply to comments and remember to answer DM's and Asks, whilst remembering to update my WIP and see what my fav blogs have posted, and catch up on that fic I like..? 🤯

In short, you can't.

You simply can't do everything.

And you shouldn't try to either as that's when you'll burn out and when things start feeling overwhelming. Then your enjoyment wanes and then that's when you feel like you want to give it all in.

Just breathe.

The best advice I can give (and I'm no expert!) is to curate your own experience here as best as you can.

Eliminate that overwhelming feeling to make your Tumblr time and space enjoyable.

Make it work for you and your needs.

Some easy things you can do that might help:

Update your notifications - I personally filter out the likes, otherwise I find I miss notifs like new followers or comments etc... Tumblr can be glitchy as hell too, so by removing the likes, you can see all the stuff you don't wanna miss. To turn them off, go into your activity (app version) and hit custom, scroll down to custom again and then untick likes:

There's a new option now to subscribe to specific blogs you like and adjust your home feed settings to that. You click on the blogs themselves and add them to get notifications and then they'll appear under Blog Subs on your feed. You can then switch through feeds to just see the blogs you've added, rather than everyone you follow. It's then easy to switch between feeds:

Limit your time here - if it starts to feel overwhelming, take a break! That's your brain telling you that you might need it. We'll all still be here when you come back. Don't compromise your peace of mind or happiness for the sake of scrolling for hours.

If you're a creator and have writer's block etc... again, take that break! Whether it's a day or a week, or a year. Take as long as you need. Those that are worth it will still be here and will wait patiently for you. Don't put unnecessary pressure on yourself. And if anyone does pressure you, block them.

Forget the numbers. I know, I know, it's easier said than done. Of course we want re-blogs and engagement, it's why we're here and putting our work out there. We wouldn't do it if we didn't want that engagement. But don't let the numbers be the main reason why you do it, otherwise your expectation can often be met with a harsh reality when it doesn't go how you think it will. Do it because it makes you happy, first and foremost. There will always be someone who looks forward to what you put out there.

If you want engagement, you need to engage back. This community survives and thrives on sharing. Re-blog everything you like. Re-blogging is the number one must on Tumblr. It's how the site works. Likes are lovely, but it's simply just a book marking feature here, which is essentially useless as your likes get pushed to the bottom of your like pile the more you like things. RE-BLOG EVERYTHING. By re-blogging you can also use tags so you can easily find things again. Liked that Frankie Morales fic you read last week? Re-blog it with the tag 'Frankie Morales' for example, and then you can search your own blog to find everything you've ever tagged with 'Frankie Morales'. You can even schedule re-blogs in advance too. You can't do any of that with likes. You'd have to scroll through every single like you've ever liked to find it again... and ain't no-one got time for that. If you're someone who is asking for engagement, you need to be prepared to give it back. I repeat, RE-BLOG EVERYTHING!

"Yeah, but if I re-blog everything, my aesthetic will be compromised, or my blog will be bulky and I might annoy everyone by appearing on their feed too much..." These are all valid concerns, but you can simply make a side blog specific for re-blogging things if you want. Whatever way you choose to do it, re-blog, re-blog, re-blog!

Be bold and reach out using DM's and ASK's. I don' think there's a single writer or artist out there who doesn't like getting a comment or a message complimenting their work. And we all love to chat about it, and that's an easy way in and to make friends too! It can be daunting, but I assure you if you're polite and kind, people will want to engage back with you. We all have one thing in common here at least - Pedro! 🥰

Sometimes, it can feel like everyone has their own friend groups or cliques and it can be hard to find your own community within a community. Almost everyone I engage with on a daily basis here, new and old users, are some of the nicest, kindest people I've spoken to. You really have nothing to be afraid of. They're just like you - they want to talk and make friends.

These are just some tips that I've found have worked for me on my own Tumblr journey with quelling that overwhelming feeling. And I hope they can help you in some way, especially if you're contemplating being here right now.

You might feel that what you put out there isn't appreciated because it doesn't get the notes or engagement you want, but I promise you, there is always someone who you have touched with your words and work.

Be kind to yourself and know that you really are a valued part of this fandom.

🖤

YOU. ARE. STRONGER. THAN. YOU. THINK. 🖤

Do you. Then do Dieter.

Self-Care With Dieter & Jett

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fandom #self care with dieter & jett #dieter bravo #you are stronger than you think #do you #then do dieter

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 months

Text

Dirty Work 35

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: ah, we arrive at the Odinson stronghold.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

"Remember the rules, pet," Mr. Laufeyson reminds you as you pass beneath an iron archway covered in ivy and roses.

"Yes..." your voice trails off as your mouth falls open in awe.

It's a fairytale. Even more beautiful than his own garden. There's a fountain at the center of the long drive, round hedges framing it and mosaic stone all around. Petals flutter on bushes and grass sprawls all around, marble statues and stone benches speckled over the expanse. The house is built of white brick with figures of sprites and elk along the facade.

"...Mr. Laufeyson," you finish breathily.

"Yes, it is rather marvelous," he says without genuine reverence. "I assume mother will be using it as her venue for Walpurgisnacht, however, she may just as easily book the banquet hall in the next city."

"Oh," you utter.

"Not to worry, she will likely have much sorted out already. It's why I wonder at her insistence that you accompany me. She is ever decisive and much prefers doing things by her own hand," he steers around the curve of the drive and stops just before the steps. "Suppose we must take it in stride."

He flips the engine and it quiets. Birds cheep and insects hum just outside. He unclicks his seatbelt and you mirror him, climbing out just a hair after he does. You turn to gape up at the facade once more as you shut the door gently.

Mr. Laufeyson comes around and heaves, "well, then--"

"Should I get the bags?"

"Don't bother, the help will deal with it," he assures and points you ahead.

He walks beside you, stretching his neck as he pushes his head side to side. He extends his fingers and rolls his shoulders. Still the tension nestles once more in his posture. You take the steps one at a time and fall a pace behind him. He marches ahead to the doors and waits for you to catch up before he pulls it open.

You step inside and quickly slip off your shoes as you eye the shining floor. It's just as immaculate, if not more, than his estate. You try to imagine how long it would take you to clean it on your own. Maybe that's why you're here.

"Darlings," Frigga trills as she appears in an archway to your left, "oh, you have arrived."

She goes to you first and kisses both your cheeks, barely glancing off your chin. Then she turns to Laufeyson and cradles his cheeks as she admires him, "I'm so happy you came."

"Mmm, and father knows we were invited?"

"Of course," she tuts as she draws away from him, "tell me, have you eaten? You were on the road such a long time. I have cucumber sandwiches and some iced berry tea."

"I'm not hungry," Laufeyson mutters as he peers around, almost expectantly.

"What about you, hon?" She takes your hand.

"Um, I..." you look to Laufeyson for your answer but your stomach growls before you can answer.

"Feed her," he says as he flutters his fingers, "get her settled. I think I can keep myself entertained."

You frown guiltily. You didn't mean to disobey him. His eyes dull with that unimpressed haze as he turns on his heel and strides away.

"I believe your brother is outside," she calls after him.

"Thank you for warning me," Laufeyson as he scoffs and disappears through another doorway.

"Ugh, boys," she chides, "pray you only ever have one son, though a brood is never a bad thing."

She turns, her hand still around yours as she drags you through the gilded archway. You let her as you drink in the beauty around every corner and crevice. This is like a dream. You've never seen anything like it. Not outside movies. You remember that one you watched on cable with Anne Hathaway. You only saw half before your father shut it off.

"Please sit," she takes you to the long white island and gestures to a tall velvet stool, "Loki didn't say if you were coming or not. I'm so happy you did."

She releases you and goes to the other counter, takes a scalloped plate and fills it with all sorts of food from platters. She brings it to you and watches you across the narrow island. "So, tomorrow, I must look at flowers. We have a healthy supply in the greenhouse but I think a few exotic breeds would do well. Then we will go to the bakery to arrange desserts and the like. Oh, the winery may need to wait until Sunday..."

She tallies off her to-dos as you nod along. Her own long list jumbles with your own in your head. You blink at her as she prattles on.

"Darling, please eat," she interrupts herself, "anyhow, as I was saying, perhaps we could make a special day of it. A day at the winery then the spa."

You nibble on the corner of the cucumber sandwich, grateful for the excuse not to respond. You doubt she'd hear you if you did. Your stomach roars in delight as you feed it, only then realising how hungry you truly are. You weren't very concerned with your appetite as the motion of the car roiled your stomach but now, you're ravenous.

Your mind wanders back to the long drive. You turn your gaze away, afraid Frigga might see your thoughts. The same sets in as the memory sinks in your brain. You can't believe you did that to him. While he was driving, too.

"Oh, goodness me, you must be so tired and hear I am blabbing your ear off," she clucks, "I forgot the tea... unless you prefer wine."

"Tea," you answer abruptly, recalling the last time you drank. You won't give Mr. Laufeyson any reason for distaste. "Thank you."

"Aw, so polite, dear," she preens, "are you excited for Walpurgisnacht?"

You twist your lips and swallow a mouthful, "um, sure... what is it?"

"My, I didn't even think," she pours a glass of deep red iced tea into a tall glass. She nears you again and places it by your plate. "May Eve. It's a celebration of Springtime, to embrace love and fertility."

"Mm, oh," you furrow your brow. That's odd.

"Yes, we will have many visitors to help us celebrate. And some games too. Mostly drinking and food, as is our way," she explains, "I can't believe this will be your first Walpurgisnacht! How delightful."

You nod and take another bite. It's almost nice how she assumes most things aren't a first for you. How she treats you like somehow you belong here.

"I didn't even think," she taps her manicured finger on the marble, "I should've invited your father. I know he's sick but it is always good to have family close."

You almost choke. You gulp and lower your eyes. You reach for the tea to wash away the sudden bitter taste on your tongue.

"Oh, I hope... I hope he is okay," she says.

"He's... he's fine," you sniff, "he's... mad at me. We aren't... we aren't speaking."

"How tragic," she touches her chest, "Loki didn't say a word. Well, then... dear, are you alright? Where are you staying?"

Your chest sinks. Of course, he wouldn't talk to her about you and explain everything that's gone rotten. You are still just the house manager to her.

"Mr. Laufeyson kindly offered--"

"Oh, I know, I know he would," she sounds ready to cry, "my son can be so caring. It's a pity he holds it in."

"Yeah, uh, it's very nice of him," you pick away a stip of crust.

"I didn't mean to bring up sour grapes," she says, "I'm sure everything will be alright. These things happen. Families fight but they always come back together. Gosh, if only you knew the state Loki left in last time. He and his father had such a row. Not to mention he wouldn't even speak with his own brother for well over a year. Stubborn."

You look at her in surprise. It's not that Laufeyson isn't cold and distant, it's just that you didn't expect all that information dumped on you. You want to ask why but know better than that.

"I only hope things go better this time," she says.

You nod and pick up a grape from the plate. You really hope so too. As long as you follow the rules, it should.

✨

After you eat, Frigga takes you on a tour of the immense house. You don’t remember where most things are as you remain astonished by the grandeur. You can barely imagine spending the night. The thought that she lives here every day is astounding. She is the luckiest woman in the world.

She takes you up the wide staircase with its curved banisters and shows you the upper floor. You yawn behind your hand, caught as she peeks back at you. You drop your hand and smile, flicking your eyes as you try to seem more awake.

“Oh dear, are you tired?” She preens, “let us show you your room.”

“It’s okay–”

“Rest is important, and a part of Walpurgisnacht. It’s about renewal so you must take care,” she reproaches, “I made up a room just for you.”

“You did?” You murmur as she waves you ahead.

“Oh, yes, of course, like I said, I’ve been looking forward to this very much,” she chimes, “just here,” she opens the left side of a double door. You admire the patterns carved beneath the layer of champagne-tinted paint. “I believe the staff will have brought your bags already.”

“Um, thank you,” you smile nervously, “it’s all very wonderful…” You gaze around the room, “it’s too much.”

“Not at all,” she touches your arm gently, “I know my son can be a stickler, whoever knows where he got that from. You are here to enjoy yourself.”

“Thanks,” you rub your palms together, “for everything. It’s so nice.”

“Certainly dear,” she touches your cheek gently, “should you need anything, you can tap this button.” She points to a tiny silver button by the light switch, “Hilde will be around.”

“Hilde,” you nod, “okay. I think I’ll be fine.”

“Oh, you are so sweet,” she preens, “please don’t hesitate to ask for anything.” She squeezes your shoulder, “please make yourself at home.”

She leaves you with a gentle click of the door. You hesitate at the threshold, terrified of tainting the perfection of the room. There’s a four-postered bed, the sort you dreamed about as a girl, with a white frame and bedding in the same hue, trimmed in silver. The night tables have curled feet and a matching wardrobe stands against the wall.

There’s a vase of flowers arranged on the vanity and a rug with dainty roses patterned on it beneath the foot of the bed. Each piece matches the next, gilded in silver, with a touch of colour here and there. The windows are tall and open, letting in the last of the morning hues. You are overwhelmed with the sheer beauty of this place.

Your luggage stands beside the bed. Just yours. Does that mean you’ll be sleeping alone? Perhaps that is for the better. It wouldn’t be seemly for Mr. Laufeyson to be commingling so closely with his house manager.

You should find him and let him know which room is yours. You go to the door and stop yourself. It feels wrong to go off roving through the house. No, you should stay and listen. You’re certain he wouldn’t be far from you. That only makes sense, doesn’t it?

You linger by the door, ear to the crack between the doors as you listen to the house. Nothing more than a distance scuff here or there. Not until you hear hinges catch for just a moment. You hold your breath and try to see between the doors but can’t.

Footsteps, long and deliberate. That has to be Laufeyson, right? You hope that it is. You wait for them to pass before you open the door and peek out. Oh no! It’s not Mr. Laufeyson.

Before you can retreat and hide, the gray-haired man stops. He has broad shoulders and his arms are bent behind him, one hand balled in another. You gulp and slowly pull back but it’s too late as the man pivots on his heel.

“I suppose my son told you it was best to avoid me,” the man says, his tone rigid but not unkind.

“Um,” you let go of the door and step up, slumping your shoulders as you stare at his suede slippers. “No, sir, I only… thought you were Mr. Laufeyson.”

“Mr. Laufeyson,” he scoffs, “you must be the one my wife spoke so highly of.”

“Sir,” you dip your head lower.

“Odin,” he offers as he comes closer, little by little, as if approaching a skittish deer, “father of Mr. Laufeyson,” he snorts and offers his hand, “and your name?”

You accept his hand meekly and mutter your name. He grips you firmly, warmly and gives a short shake. He keeps a hold of your hand and turns it, placing his other hand over your knuckles.

“Let me have a look at you,” he urges you into the hall, “my eyes aren’t as good as they used to be.”

You let him lead you further out. You bite your lip and exhale. You unpinch your teeth and lift your head. You look at him, squirming as he considers you. His steely hair is brushed back from his face and small coils gather behind his ears and neck. His eyes are blue and vibrant, like Thor’s, and his face is creased with and determination.

“Now,” he smiles, “how did my son capture a lovely creature like you?”

“Sir?”

“Please, Odin will do nicely,” he pats your hand, “may I use your name?”

“Yes, s– Yes, Odin,” you correct yourself.

“Wonderful, it’s a beautiful name,” he brings your hand up and kisses it, “it fits you well.”

He finally lets you go and you feel your cheek burn. You don’t know how to react. With everything you heard, you expected a horrible, grumpy old man. Someone like your own father. Yet, he’s just as pleasant as Frigga.

“Thank you,” your lips curve just a little.

“Polite little thing,” he muses, “do you like chocolate?”

“Pardon?” You’re taken aback by his question.

“Chocolate,” he repeats, “Loki hasn’t much of a sweet tooth and the other one would devour them all. I’ve got some truffles, would you like one?”

“Well, I… er,” you rub your neck, “I wouldn’t want to bother,” you stammer.

“Bother? Why ever would I ask if it was?” He dismisses, “you are my guest, I do prefer to know those who are staying under my roof. I would be a shit guest otherwise.”

You scrunch your lips up at his profanity. He notices the wince and he chuckles, bring his fingertips to his chin, “excuse my language.”

“It’s okay,” you assure him, “um, sure, I will have some chocolate… Odin.”

“Ah, wonderful, just this way,” he points you towards the other end of the hall, “this is part of the trap you see,” he says as he ushers you along, “I keep them in my office.”

He laughs and you join in thinly. You’re not sure he’s entirely kidding. He shows you into his office. The decor is wrought in gold and oak. It reminds you a little of Laufeyson’s study in the style, but not the colours.

“You will have your chocolate,” he assures as he closes the door, “but first, you will tell me how you ended up with that son of mine.” He strides around the desk as you hover across from him. He pulls out a drawer as you clasp your hands tight. You can’t tell him everything.

“How…” you utter.

“Yes,” he pulls out a square red box, “he hardly seems your type.”

“Oh, well, I am only his house manager,” you shrug.

“Sure, if that’s what he tells you to say, say it,” he tuts, “but it doesn’t mean I must believe it.”

You drop your head and frown. You’re a poor liar but you don’t dare tell the truth. He sighs and you peek up from under your lashes.

“Not to worry, I keep a promise,” he comes around and offers the open box of truffles, “this one is dark with raspberry, you might like it? Or this one, strawberry and cream,” he points to a dark bulb, then a white one sprinkled with pink sugar, “perhaps you will surprise me.”

You shyly reach for the box and pick out the plainest of the bunch. You thank him quietly and stare at the treat. He knows you’re lying and he’s still being kind. You wish you could tell him the truth, maybe he could help you understand it. Yet, the thought of saying it all out loud suffocates you in flames.

“Crushed toffee,” he says, “my favourite.”

“Oh, uh,” you hold it out.

“No, no, you have it,” he insists as he strolls back around his desk, “I am hardly interested in talking about my son, so let us not dwell on him. Tell me about you.”

“Me?” You blink.

“Yes. Do you read? Do you enjoy music? What are your favourites?”

You stand there, holding the truffle, speechless. You don’t know what to say. You are boring. No one ever cared about any of those things, so much so, that you never much thought of them yourself.

“Please, sit,” he takes his own advice and lowers himself into the leather chair, “enjoy your chocolate, then you may answer my questions.”

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #maid au #dirty work #mcu #marvel #avengers #thor

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